Way Back Whensday

What we were listening to…

5 years ago (interesting album this)

10 years ago (may they long live)

20 years ago (it’s a bit difficult today to convey how different this album sounded to everything else going on at the time. DJ Muggs’s lush and intricate soundscapes. B-Real’s antagonistic and nasal vocals, and Sen Dog’s (Mellow Man Ace’s brother) powerful expultations (yes, english nerds, i just made up that word – it’s an exultation that must needs expelled – like the only way Sen Dog could truly express his joy was to let it build to a point PUFFIN’ ON A BLUNT! where he could no longer hold it in and he was just lucky to time it perfectly for whatever song they GET YOUR FACE DOWN! happened to be working on – and yes, his non-expultative work was nice as well, but not as WHEN THE SHIT GOES DOWN! fun as when he played the punctuative hype man.) gangsta rap fans loved it. latino rap fans loved it. alt-rap fans loved it. and for some reason – perhaps it was the weed – metalheads ended up loving this record. i kid about the weed. i really think non-rap devotees liking this record had more to do with the blending of rap and rock genres that had been gaining momentum around this time. this records falls into a web spun by early RHCP, Fishbone, Beastie Boys, UDS, and FNM’s The Real Thing (and to a lesser degree Run DMC and Aerosmith’s Walk This Way). Cypress Hill’s debut sits in that web, as will House of Pain’s, Rage Against the Machine’s, and the pinnacle of what will become known as rap-rock: the Judgement Night soundtrack, which took as its conceit the logical conclusion reached by following these prior albums’ leads. that record then delivered that conceit to an awaiting mass audience via a Hollywood vehicle – which then spewed all the crap-rock bands that sullied the late 90s and early 00s (shudder, shudder). (no, there’s no real accounting here for what happened to 311 after ’94 but i will save that for a later date.) at any rate, i wore this tape out.)

Way Back Whensday

On a quest for KC’s perfect fish and chips – Fox and Hound

Saturday afternoon.
I’m getting ready to hit the KC Voices Vol. 9 launch party.
Sa Rah and I are jonesin’ for fish and chips.
“Let’s get back to our fish and chips reviews.”
“Let’s.”
“Fish and chips you can count on?”
“Fox and Hound were good last time we went.” (Which was probably 4-5 years ago.)
What a difference the years can have.
And so it unfolded that at approximately 12:15 PM on 11/12/11, we were served one of the most wretched meals of our lives heretofore.
Our order:
1 Order Pretzel Dunkers
1 Kid’s Pizza (of the pepperoni variety)
1 Kid’s Hot Ham & Cheese Sandwich (for some strange reason named
1 Side Caesar Salad
2 Bowls Beer Cheese Soup
1 Order Fish and Chips
The pretzels arrived. Hot, tasty, and boding well of things to come.
Wrong.
The soup comes. Looks good.
The kids’ food comes. Looks normal.
The salad comes. Standard fare.
The fish and chips come. They look really, really good. Batter a golden brown. A fat chunk and a couple of flat and larger planks. Exciting. (No malt vinegar served but that’s all right. I will ask for some after a few bites without.)
First, the salad: tastes like it looks. Standard. And that’s OK. I don’t expect an inventive or remarkable salad.
Then, a bite of fish: Whoa, sumpin’ ain’t right here. Mushy, gushy, flavorless, limp.
Then Sa Rah takes a similar bite and is like What the fuck is this?
Our waitress comes by and S. tells her something is wrong.
The manager comes by to check it out and assures us the fish is good, etc., but nothing saves the fish. It is not right. I try a few more bites (in various places) to try to give them the benefit of the doubt. No one can fuck up fish and chips this bad, can they? They can. I’m done. I’ve got soup and salad.
The soup: HOLY MOUTH RAPE! It tastes like Cheez Wiz melted with sand and liquid smoke flavoring. I can’t even eat an entire spoonful.
And herein lies a huge issue with being an insulin-dependent diabetic and being served shite food: You must eat. You’ve taken your insulin 30 minutes ago, and it’s already working on your body. You don’t get an option to wait for later. You can order another dish, but why risk being served another plate of foul?
So I notice the kids aren’t really eating anything but fries. Blood sugar dropping, I try the pizza: No. Sauce like mashed tomatoes. I try the hot ham and cheese: bread like buttered cardboard with something like gummi ham in the middle. Again no.
Management (and to their credit, they were kind about our dissatisfaction) gives us a couple free appetizer cards (anyone want ’em?).
We leave.
The kids and I roll to Krispy Kreme for Pumpkin Spice Donuts (I still need sugar, no matter how uninterested I am in eating by this point).
Sa Rah heads to Whole Foods to fill herself with Roasted Brussels Sprouts in an effort to cleanse herself of this violation.
Avoid it. Avoid it like the mf’ing plague.
The only reason the dish gets 3 on our ratings is because the batter itself was good on its own.
But, damn, it ain’t worth it, folks.

On a quest for KC’s perfect fish and chips – Fox and Hound

Way Back Whensday

What we were listening to…

5 years ago (probably my fave band of the oughts. undoubtedly one of the best live acts i’ve ever seen anytime. if you’ve never listened to their 2003 album ‘burn, piano island, burn’ do it right now. it will bend you over and have its way with you. then, once the record completes, you will find yourself gasping for breath and pushing repeat. incredibly, some of these guys went on to play in telekinesis and fleet foxes.)


10 years ago (disorder)

20 years ago (i miss early 90s rap so much. i know that probably makes me a whiny, old man but tough titties. )

Way Back Whensday

On listening to your vehicle

Though it talks to me quite regularly, I rarely listen to my vehicle. Loud music (growing ever more loud to compensate for my ever dwindling hearing), chattering children, podcasts, lectures, audiobooks, and rapping to an audience of one altogether obstruct my ability to listen to what my vehicle tells me. But last night, on the way home from trick-or-treating, the kids cold passed out in their carseats and I turned down the bass-heavy tunes on the radio. My ears adjusted and I heard my vehicle speak.

A windy whistle calling me to adventure here and there. An occassional and seemingly arthritic groan from the suspension system. A squeak, a tap, a scrape – stop. A scraping sound when I brake? Not every time I brake. Every three or four brakes. There. Nope. Nope. Nope. Scraaaaaaappppe. That ain’t right.

That’s my vehicle telling me something I need to hear but don’t want to. Probably something I should have heard many moons ago had I just turned things down a bit and listened. How long has that been happening? How long can I go without having it looked at? How much will it cost to fix?

Should’ve listened more often.

On listening to your vehicle