I Just Read About That…

SOUNDTRACK: THE DEAD MILKMEN-Big Lizard in My Backyard (1985).

My friend Alison said the other day that she had “Bitchin’ Camaro” stuck in her head.  And soon thereafter, so did I.  So Philadelphia’s Dead Milkmen are a bratty punk band.  They skewer all kinds of things: pop culture, racists,  right wing pigeons, junkies and, quite possibly, music itself.

This first record showcases quite a breadth of song styles.  Although they stay comfortably within the realm of two-minute punk, they plays “blues,” “jazz,” and even “surf.”  Interestingly, their guitars are quite treble-filled which is a bit unusual for a punk band (typically pretty bass heavy). And yet a song like “Swordfish” (“I believe in swordfish!”) has a pretty wild and creative bass line running through it.

But I think the Milkmen are most well-known for their lyrics.  So Big Lizard starts in right away with lyrics that could easily offend the wrong target: ‘Cause we hate blacks and we hate Jews/And we hate punks but we love the F.U.s.”  Of course, the chorus reveals the truth: This is a tiny town and we don’t want you hanging round.”

“V.F.W.” stands for veterans of a fucked up world.  “Beach Song” opens up like a beach song until you get the bratty, screamed lyrics: I don’t wanna be on the beach NO FUN!.”  Of course, “Violence Rules” tackles a real issue: “violence rules, guns are cool and we’ve got guns in our school.”  And there’s the twisted, “Takin’ Retards to the Zoo.”

We also get one of my favorite catchy lyrics (from “Nutrition”): “I’ve got nowhere to go/Just hang out on the street/My folks say I’ve got no ambition/ At least I give a shit/About the stuff I eat/Yeah! I care about nutrition.”

Only 6 of the 21 songs are over 2 minutes, so musical styles definitely come fast.  Rodney Anonymous’ vocals are snotty and funny (even when the lyrics aren’t especially funny, the delivery is).  We only get one song with Joe JAck Talcum singing (he’s the whiny guy).  It’s so hard to tell if his delivery is serious at all, and yet I find it very endearing (and he’ll get much more prominence on later discs).  So, this disc is fairly simple, but it works very well for what it is: in your fast, bratty music, that is quite often very funny.  It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty darn good.

And it features “Bitchin’ Camaro.”  I’m going to go to a hardcore show and see F.O.D.

[READ: March 23, 2010] “The Pura Principle”

I have been intending to read Díaz’ The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao for quite some time.  I just haven’t yet.  So I was pleased to get a chance to read one of his short stories to get a feel for his writing.

One thing I had been told about Oscar Wao was that it mixes English, Spanish, Spanglish and a kind of ghetto slang which makes the book shall we say, more difficult to read if you’re a suburban gringo like myself.  But hey it’s set in New Jersey, so at least I know the towns he’s talking about!

This story is like a short story version of that summary of the book.  The writing is indeed in English, Spanish and Spanglish (and when the second sentence–the crux of the story– is “No way of wrapping it pretty or pretending otherwise: Rada estaba jodido” you know this is not your typical English short story.  I still don’t have an exact translation for that sentence (and it took a while to realize that Rafa was a person’s name) but I got the gist, and I was delighted by how much I followed the story.

Essentially, Rafa gets cancer. His younger brother, the narrator, watches as Rafa goes through the typical stages of cancer: lazing around the house, getting a really dumb job, then shacking up with a Dominican gal who makes no bones about the fact that she wants to get her citizenship.

The young lady, Pura, causes nothing but friction in their house.  Their Mami hates Pura from the get go, being rude to her in ways the narrator has never heard his mother be rude before.

Meanwhile, Rafa is wasting away, and the narrator feels emboldened by this.  Rafa used to be able to beat the crap out of him, but, when he’s down to a hundred or so pounds, he’s not so tough.  And the narrator uses this as a chance to give him a piece of his mind.

Then Rafa disappears.  And when he returns, he shows off his wedding ring.  Mami goes ballistic and kicks him and his puta out of the house.  Several weeks later, when Mami is out, but the narrator is home ditching school, Rafa sneaks back into the house.  And from there, all hell breaks loose.

The story spins out a couple of quick, disparate plot angles and then ties it all together nicely in a violent bow.

I really enjoyed the story: the pacing, the plot, the jokey language even amidst the anger.  It was a very clever story and makes me want to read Oscar Wao even more.

It’s available here.

For ease of searching I include: Junot Diaz