Last night I had plans to see a movie. I didn’t have time to make dinner at home, so on my way there I stopped at a döner kebab.

It was empty and the proprietor was nowhere in sight. The only noise came from the Tee-Vee, loudly blaring the fútbol game. There was a sad, desolate [...]]]>

Last night I had plans to see a movie. I didn’t have time to make dinner at home, so on my way there I stopped at a döner kebab.

It was empty and the proprietor was nowhere in sight. The only noise came from the Tee-Vee, loudly blaring the fútbol game. There was a sad, desolate feel to the place.

A voice said, “One moment, please. I’ll be right with you.”

A stocky, older Middle-Eastern man appeared. He had a head of perfectly styled, slicked-down black hair, like Ronald Reagan. “What can I get you?” he said in a high-pitched, slightly effeminate voice. This was an elegant man.

“A shawarma sandwich, please.”

“Coming right up.” As he cut the meat off the big, rotating spit, he said over his shoulder, “Do they like fútbol in your country?”

“My country is here now,” I said. “But they prefer fútbol americano where I’m from.”

“Oh, you’re from America!”

I still tend to get nervous when I tell a Middle-Eastern person I’m from the U.S.A., after all the shit that’s gone down there: Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel, taking out Bin Laden… I can’t help it.

“Yes. New York.”

“Oh, New York!” he exclaimed.

“Yes, it’s wonderful! Have you ever been there?”

“No, never. I’ve always wanted to visit the U.S. It seems like an incredible country.”

“It really is; especially New York. A city full of immigrants from every part of the world, and they all get along.” A little exaggerated, perhaps, but basically true.

“I’ve heard that; they all get along!”

“Not everywhere in America, but in New York, they do. In New York, you’ll find a Syrian restaurant next to a Chinese take-out, next to a Jewish deli, next to an Italian restaurant… and they all get along. Plus, you get to eat a lot of great food from all over the world!” I added, laughing.

“I’ve heard that,” said the schawarma man, turning toward the counter to put the lettuce, tomato, and onion into the sandwich. “Maybe when they were in their home countries, they fought with one another, but when they get to the U.S., they get along.”

“Yep. They have other things to worry about once they get there. Where are you from?”

“Syria.”

“Oh gosh. I’m so sorry about what’s going on in your country.”

“Yes, it’s terrible,” said the schawarma man, putting the sandwich onto the grill to heat up.  ”The Syrian government would have fallen a long time ago if it wasn’t for Russia and China, who send them weapons.”

“It’s all about business, isn’t it?”

“Business?? Mafias! Russia and China are in with the mafias: drugs, arms trafficking… But still, the Syrian government will fall soon. The same family has ruled my country for 42 years. And the people are convinced that everything’s good, when it’s not. That’s why I left 30 years ago. I was sick of it. I am 50 now.”

“You’ve been here since you were 20 years old? So you’ve spent the majority of your life in this country. Your life is here then.”

“Yes, it is. When I go back to Syria to visit… I don’t know. I don’t feel good. I don’t feel like I belong there.”

“How do you feel here?”

“I have a daughter who is 18 years old. She fits in here perfectly. But I do not. I don’t know where I belong.”

“You feel on the outside looking in.”

“Yes. That’s how I feel here. And when I go to Syria, I don’t feel good either. I feel like I’m on a balcony, watching everything happen, from above.”

“You have Ulysses’ Syndrome. Do you know what that is?”

“No.”

“That’s what we immigrants get when we move to another country, another culture. We don’t fit in anywhere. We feel we’re forever wandering the earth, like the hero Ulysses in The Odyssey, unable to get home.”

“Yes! That’s what I feel. We are lost.”

“Yes, we are lost.” I said. ”We don’t know where we belong. We’re floating, like our feet never touch the ground. Sometimes we fall into depressions.”

“Yes, I have depressions sometimes,” he said, taking the shawarma off the grill.

“That’s because you have Ulysses Syndrome. It’s completely normal to feel that way. Lots of people do.”

“Yes,” said the shwarma man, wrapping my perfectly-wrapped, delicious-smelling sandwich in foil. As he handed it to me, he looked into my eyes with a big, warm smile and said: “We are lost!”

“Yes, we are lost,” I said, laughing. Then I paid him and went to see the movie, leaving him to his fútbol game and empty restaurant.

A reader sent me this picture of Sinead and asked for my opinion of her new look.

My honest opinion? She looks just me when I was in college, except with better hair and fashion sense.

I was a real mess. It would’ve done me some good to look more like Elton John. At least he was [...]]]>

A reader sent me this picture of Sinead and asked for my opinion of her new look.

My honest opinion? She looks just me when I was in college, except with better hair and fashion sense.

I was a real mess. It would’ve done me some good to look more like Elton John. At least he was talented.

The irony is, when I was in college, I wished I looked like Sinead. But there was no way I could, ’cause I couldn’t stop shoveling ice cream into my mouth.

All the lesbians at my college — meaning, nearly all the women– were crazy for Sinead. She was so hot performing “Mandinka” at the 1989 Grammys… in spite of the dorky dancing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JugUQJv9YlY

Please save the “she’s old, she’s fat, she’s ugly” comments for TMZ or The Superficial. It’s always irritated me how women are crucified for aging in a way that men never have to deal with. At least the woman has hair now.

Last week, the idea came to me to do a “Freaky Ladies” series of blogs. Why? Well, there are a number of strange, original, brave, and talented women in music and other arts who, in my opinion, haven’t received the recognition and prestige they deserve. So let’s pay tribute to them, shall we, Motherf*ckers?

This first [...]]]>

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqhym59ypUI

Last week, the idea came to me to do a “Freaky Ladies” series of blogs. Why? Well, there are a number of strange, original, brave, and talented women in music and other arts who, in my opinion, haven’t received the recognition and prestige they deserve. So let’s pay tribute to them, shall we, Motherf*ckers?

This first Freaky Lady I didn’t even know of until today. Anyone remember this song”Big Hollow Man” from the ’80s? I heard it only once on the radio, never heard it again, never knew who it was by… but it burned itself into my memory so deeply that, over 20 years later, I could still remember one line from the chorus.

So today I typed it into Google, and… bingo! The miracle of Internet. Thank you, Jesus!

Song’s still catchy even after all those years. I love that riff. And you gotta love the Siouxsie Sioux/Nina Hagen-ish look and attitude, coupled with those wonderfully playful and cheesy ’80s video effects.

Since I knew nothing about Danielle Dax, I looked her up on Wikipedia and found out she was a musician, producer and visual artist throughout the eighties and nineties. According to some comments, she played all (or nearly all) of the instruments on her songs(!) Don’t have verification if that’s true, but she is officially credited with playing keyboards, flute, and sax in the same band.

In 1996, she ended her music career to work in interior design. These days, instead of rock clubs, she appears on interior decorating shows. Now that’s freaky.

Interesting woman; interesting life.

She was a cypher, already difficult to know when she became humongous in 2006. As the years went by, what we saw became more and more tacky: wandering half-naked down the London streets, strung-out and incoherent, her bad implants popping out of her skimpy dresses. The continued public bad behavior; the YouTube video of her [...]]]>

She was a cypher, already difficult to know when she became humongous in 2006. As the years went by, what we saw became more and more tacky: wandering half-naked down the London streets, strung-out and incoherent, her bad implants popping out of her skimpy dresses. The continued public bad behavior; the YouTube video of her and Pete Dougherty, both babbling and high; that final sham of a “concert” in Belgrade. The singer turned into a clown.

When she went no one was surprised, least of all her long-suffering family. A pathetic stardom, typical of these times of Facebook/ Twitter, texting, instant gratification and voracious consumption. Virulent drug addiction coupled with the lack of privacy and personal freedom that come as the price of massive fame. Every move of this imperfect life followed by a predatory paparazzi that stalks its prey as quicky and mercilessly as any raptor in a horror movie. How would any of us handle it?

It was almost impossible to see behind the horror show into who she was. Because once upon a time, she was a person to those who truly knew her, and simply someone the rest of us hadn’t met yet. A normal girl with an enormous talent who hit the jackpot once the diverse factors of the entertainment slot machine came into place – musical style, choice of band, hit songs, emblematic ’60s look — and who got lost almost immediately.

In short, the unluckiest girl in the world. May she rest in peace.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i1iu52L9mUk

Remember this video from the Golden Age of MTV?

The dance sequence at 2:47 spurred my fascination with choreography, pushed my eating disorder into high gear, and permanently twisted my fashion sense and sexuality.

Still love it after all these years!

Primero, quiero pedir disculpas a todos los que han dejado comentarios en este blog que no han sido aprobados hasta ahora. Este Word Press es una cosa rara; a veces me avisa cuando llegan y a veces no. En este caso, ha pasado de avisarme completamente… probablemente en espíritu de venganza, por mi comportamiento tan [...]]]>

Primero, quiero pedir disculpas a todos los que han dejado comentarios en este blog que no han sido aprobados hasta ahora. Este Word Press es una cosa rara; a veces me avisa cuando llegan y a veces no. En este caso, ha pasado de avisarme completamente… probablemente en espíritu de venganza, por mi comportamiento tan pasota respecto a este blog.

La verdad es que he estado metida en mil movidas este último mes, y debido a mi personalidad obsesiva que no sabe hacer nada con moderación, las cosas me salen “todo o nada”. En este caso, se ha traducido a un descuido enorme respecto a email e informática. Y con los años, esta tendencia mía va a peor.

Supongo que hay una pastilla que me curaría de ese defecto, pero los farmaceúticos te joden la creatividad. Y tengo mis mejores ideas cuando estoy corriendo desnuda por el Caprabo(TM) de mi barrio.

Tengo varias cosas para enseñaros, empezando por unas fotos que saqué en una tienda por la Ronda San Antoni. Un par de artefactos de nuestra edad de consumición compulsiva, hasta las personalidades más legendarias de la cultura pop.

Pero primero, un breve historial: cuando tenía 12 años, el profesor de historia nos dio la tarea de preparar una tesis sobre alguien histórico. Después de mucha discusión con él — una batalla que acabé ganando simplemente por agobiarle, no por convencerle —  me permitió escribir sobre Marilyn Monroe.

Pero desde entonces, la pobre Marilyn ha sido quemada para mí hace ya muchos años. No fue culpa suya, porque en mi opinión, sigue siendo uno de los personajes más fascinantes y encantadores de este siglo (y pico).

Todo empezó con ese retrato de Warhol, en su época algo curioso y revolucionario. Quién hubiera imaginado que los retratos de Warhol se convertirían en el agobio de decoración de hogar modernita y low-cost durante el siglo que venía?

Aquí tenemos una clase de “wall art” para la casa:

Aprecio especialmente el detalle de imprimir su nombre debajo de cada retrato. Por si cupiese la duda de cómo se llama ese rostro. Por si el comprador es alguien que ha vivido en una cueva durante toda la vida.

Vi un cartel que hizo lo mismo con el pobre James Dean. Su famosa foto, en chaqueta de biker, estampado en carteles, biombos, papeleras…

Pero el golpe más bestia fue lo siguiente, de nuevo a Marilyn:

Si Marilyn y James Dean hubiesen sabido que sus rostros acabarían, 50 años después de sus muertes, ornamentando papeleras y recoge-escombros, se habrían suicidado mucho antes.

__________________________

Oh, y esta noche: Planeta Catalunya! Como siempre, en el Café Teatre Llantiol de Barcelona, C/ Riereta 7, 23h. Click aquí para más info y reservas. Sólo quedan unos 4 shows hasta el summer break, y quién sabe qué nos pasará entonces. Si el planeta (universal, no catalán) seguirá existiendo o no.

I don’t remember if this was the first Bob Seger song I ever heard. What I do know is that the first time I heard it on the radio — on some classic rock station in Milwaukee — I was very young, and it blew my mind. My whole body knew I was hearing something [...]]]>

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r2aBOTNGWMY

I don’t remember if this was the first Bob Seger song I ever heard. What I do know is that the first time I heard it on the radio — on some classic rock station in Milwaukee — I was very young, and it blew my mind. My whole body knew I was hearing something incredible. The brute energy of the music blasted right through me and made me want to jump and sing along to it. Five years old and already possessed by rock-n-roll!

I believe Bob Seger is one of the most underrated singer-musician-composers in the history of American rock music. That unmistakeable, charismatic, whisky-soaked voice! Those tunes! Those lyrics! Hit after hit, from “Old Time Rock-n-Roll” (which frankly I can’t stand anymore, after having it overplayed to death thanks to the movie Risky Business, Tee-Vee commercials and karaokes) to introspective, climax-building ditties like “Night Moves” and angsty anthems like “Fire Lake” to full-blown ballads like “Against the Wind”.

Perhaps Seger himself perpetuates his own obscurity by staying out of the limelight these days. I don’t know what he’s doing with his career right now, but according to Wikipedia, he prefers to spend his time attending his son’s high school football games. It seems that he’s left his ramblin’, gamblin’ rock-n-roll days behind him.

Like Iggy Pop, Bob Seger comes from Michigan, in the heartland of Ameica. “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” contains the best of American rock-n-roll: the balls-to-the-wall, exuberant energy and the bluesy, African roots that tend to disappear as the years go by.

I decided to use this song in my new show, “Por eso soy así” — both the original and a cover I recorded on Garage Band — not just because I love it musically, but also because the lyrics perfectly describe my vagabond years: rambling and gambling. Traveling, experiencing, discovering, but also taking risks and gambling with your own future. A perfect description of my own wild years!

(By the way, doesn’t it seem a little strange that no one gave Seger a mic stand for his TeeVee performance? I know they’re not really playing, but still: it’s a bit awkward holding the mic in one hand and playing the piano with the other, all the while trying to pretend to sing!)

Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man

Yeah, I’m gonna tell my tale come on,

Come on, give a listen

Cause I was born lonely down by the riverside

Learned to spin fortune wheels, and throw dice

And I was just thirteen when I had to leave home

Knew I couldn’t stick around, I had to roam

Ain’t good looking, but you know I ain’t shy

Ain’t afraid to look a girl – in the eye

So if you need some lovin, and you need it right away

Take a little time out, and maybe I’ll stay

But I got to ramble (ramblin’ man)

Oh I got to gamble (gamblin’ man)

Got to got to ramble (ramblin’ man)

I was born a ramblin’ gamblin’ man

I’m out of money, cause you know I need some

I ain’t around to love you now, and I gotta run

Gotta keep moving, never gonna slow down

You can have your funky world, see you ’round

‘Cause I got to ramble (ramblin’ man)

Oh I got to gamble (gamblin’ man)

Got to got to ramble (ramblin’ man)

I was born a ramblin’ gamblin’ man

I wrote about the American videoclip series Schoolhouse Rock in my last post. It’s fun to note that Schoolhouse Rock has inspired a number of popular cover versions, such as Elliot Smith’s eerily beautiful cover of “Figure 8″:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tR_jNDD5-gQ

Perhaps the most popular Schoolhouse Rock song to cover is “Three is the Magic Number”.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GA69pmhrBiE

De La Soul did a [...]]]>

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jeq5a8bBh8c

I wrote about the American videoclip series Schoolhouse Rock in my last post. It’s fun to note that Schoolhouse Rock has inspired a number of popular cover versions, such as Elliot Smith’s eerily beautiful cover of “Figure 8″:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tR_jNDD5-gQ

Perhaps the most popular Schoolhouse Rock song to cover is “Three is the Magic Number”.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GA69pmhrBiE

De La Soul did a great cover of “Three is a Magic Number”, which became a popular single in 1990:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0irL1M15DH8

Blind Melon’s cover of the same song:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LVfe6rdHRKI

Jeff Buckley’s cover:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=clC13bXYrno

[For maximum enjoyment of this video, I recommend turning the up volume LOUD!]

Schoolhouse Rock was a series of short musical, educational clips that would run on Saturday mornings when I was a kid. They remain immensely popular not only for my generation, but for later generations who didn’t grow up with the series.

Schoolhouse Rock was created [...]]]>

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEqRo7J_Y0Q

[For maximum enjoyment of this video, I recommend turning the up volume LOUD!]

Schoolhouse Rock was a series of short musical, educational clips that would run on Saturday mornings when I was a kid. They remain immensely popular not only for my generation, but for later generations who didn’t grow up with the series.

Schoolhouse Rock was created in the seventies, at the height of Black pride consciousness. To put it in perspective, Blacks had only recently been granted civil rights. Less than 15 years before, Black Americans couldn’t even vote and were brutally oppressed in daily life. In the seventies, schools were still being desegregated throughout the nation, including my own. Black children had few role models and heroes represented in the popular culture.

For this reason, the Black superhero in the “Verb: That’s What’s Happenin’” clip made a big impression on me. I remember thinking: “Wow! A Black Superman! Cool!” So I can’t even imagine how it must have affected Black kids to finally see a Black Superman, heroically rescuing people and receiving adoration just as any white superhero would.

Other details stand out in this cartoon: the happily integrated movie theater, the young Black protagonist making his way through the world with confidence, encouraged to dream about his future (as Martin Luther King did), climbing mountains, going to the movies alone and returning home safely to the loving arms of his mother. All this hope and optimism reflected in one cartoon, daring to put the dreams of a people into image and music.

I also remember from this era the slogan “Black is beautiful,” in conversation as well as printed on bumper stickers. “Black is beautiful” was the Black community’s attempt at self-healing, an effort to change the negative way white society saw Black people — and to change the way Black people saw themselves — after a couple hundred years of systematic denigration in American society.

I am certain that the Schoolhouse Rock cartoons, along with programs such as Sesame Street and The Electric Company, helped changed the consciousness of America. And that’s why they’ve become not just musical, but beloved cultural and historical artifacts.

Below is an American high-school’s recent interpretation of the same song. In my opinion, the performance lacks a bit of soul, but the students do their best considering that most of them are white and weren’t even born when Schoolhouse Rock was on TeeVee!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=obw5NXzHL9I

Lyrics:

I get my thing in action (Verb!)
To be, to sing, to feel, to live (Verb!)
That’s what’s happenin’

I put my heart in action (Verb!)
To run, to go, to get, to give (Verb!)
(You’re what’s happenin’)

That’s where I find satisfaction, yeah! (Yeah!)
To search, to find, to have, to hold
(Verb! To be bold)
When I use my imagination (Verb!)
I think, I plot, I plan, I dream
Turning in towards creation (Verb!)
I make, I write, I dance, I sing
When I’m feeling really active (Verb!)
I run, I ride, I swim, I fly!
Other times when life is easy
(Oh!) I rest, I sleep, I sit, I lie.

(Verb! That’s what’s happenin’)
I can take a noun and bend it,
Give me a noun -
(Bat, boat, rake, and plow)
Make it a verb and really send it!
(Show me how)
Oh, I don’t know my own power. (Verb!)

I get my thing in action (Verb!)
In being, (Verb!) In doing, (Verb!)
In saying
A verb expresses action, being, or state of being. A verb makes a statement. Yeah, a verb tells it like it is!

(Verb! That’s what’s happenin’.)
I can tell you when it’s happenin’,
(Past, present, future tense)
Ooh! Tell you more about what’s happenin’,
(Say it so it makes some sense)
I can tell you who is happenin’!
(Verb, you’re so intense)
Every sentence has a subject.
(Noun, person, place, or thing)
Find that subject: Where’s the action?
(Verb can make a subject sing)
Take the subject: What is it? (What!)
What’s done to it? (What!)
What does it say?
(Verb, you’re what’s happenin’)

I can question like: What is it?
(Verb, you’re so demanding.)
I can order like: Go get it!
(Verb, you’re so commanding.)
When I hit I need an object
(Verb, hit! Hit the ball!)
When I see, I see the object
(Do you see that furthest wall?)

If you can see it there, put the ball over the fence, man!
Go ahead. Yeah, alright.
What?! He hit it. It’s going, it’s going, it’s gone!
(What!)

I get my thing in action.
(Verb, that’s what’s happenin’)
To work, (Verb!)
To play, (Verb!)
To live, (Verb!)
To love… (Verb!…)

Anyone remember this?

All throughout my life this song pops into my head without warning. It’s one of the first songs that I can remember. I was very, very young when I first heard it — maybe three or five years old at the most.

Even though I didn’t completely understand the lyrics at the time, somehow [...]]]>

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5qd9Bd4nX9Q

Anyone remember this?

All throughout my life this song pops into my head without warning. It’s one of the first songs that I can remember. I was very, very young when I first heard it — maybe three or five years old at the most.

Even though I didn’t completely understand the lyrics at the time, somehow they were burned into my consciousness. I think it was because of the music more than anything else. I always loved this tune and I know it’s influenced how I hear and compose music.

I’ve always adored the songs from Sesame Street in general (pre-Elmo years). There was another show on at the time, The Electric Company, but it just didn’t grab me like Sesame Street did, and I know it was because of the music. The music from Sesame Street was truly wonderful. It wasn’t typical children’s music. It was composed by truly talented artists with soul and wit and whimsy. It was music good enough for adults to enjoy, and that’s why it’s stayed with me all these years.

This morning this song came back into my head again. I did a search on YouTube, not believing that I’d actually find the original cartoon. But there it was, preserved after so many years. I watched these images for the first time since I was three or five years old.

It was heartbreaking. I shot me back to being a child and identifying so easily with every creature in the video: an ant, a cockroach, a puppy, the sun and stars. Back when everything seemed friendly and connected and wondrous I knew of none of the horrible things that happen to us in this world. To be honest, I can’t watch this anymore without losing it.

___________________________

Oh, everything comes in its own special size

I guess it can be measured by where you put your eyes

It’s so big when you’re close, it looks smaller back a bit

That’s about the size of it.

That’s about the size, where you put your eyes

That’s about the size of it.

Well the big becomes the little when you see it back a bit

The huge becomes the dinky which is just the opposite

Of the larger that gets smaller, it never seems to quit

That’s about the size of it

That’s about the size, where you put your eyes

That’s about the size of it.

That the big becomes the little, that’s the way it seems to go

That they make up a larger thing is something good to know

It’s nice to know that though we’re small there’s always room to grow, and

That’s about the size of it.

That’s about the size, where you put your eyes

That’s about the size of it.