Underland, Featuring the Music of Nick Cave

I just ran across this event coming up in Portland on March 13th: You’ve got yer Nick Cave music and your  modern dancers and you mush it all up with costumes by Imitation of Christ and that’s what you’ve got.

Here’s a really over-compressed short video about the show.

Underland video

Some of the songs included in the program are: Wild World, Mercy Seat, The Carny, The Weeping Song, The Ship Song, Stagger Lee, and Death is Not the End. The dance opens with a reading from his novel, “And The Ass Saw The Angel.”

Songs Least Likely to Appear In A Nick Cave Dance Program: Scum, 6″ Gold Blade, and Little Empty Boat.

Postscript: Wow, was I wrong about not using Stagger Lee in the program! When it started as a very intense, Apache-style duet between the brute and the maiden, and the first F-bomb dropped in, I heard the row of nice fifty-year old ladies in front of me take in breath sharply, and I thought, “wait until we get to the line about crawling over fifty good p*ssies to get to a fat boy’s assh*le.” A couple disgruntled ballet fans walked out, but I think the fifteen year old dance students were pretty psyched about a getting to hear a filthy dirty song.  My review of the ballet is a million, jillion gold stars, flecked lightly with blood. It was so super, I can’t tell you. If you hear about it coming through your town, I highly recommend it.

Pete Ellison is Great!

I want to tell you about my friend Pete. He set up this site for me, and made the above logo of me in my Gothic Lolo outfit, and remixes songs and generates new ones, and is a helluva Dance, Dance, Revolution player, and has had songs on two versions of DDR fan game In the Groove, and also made the song for this video, and was the first person I knew personally who has something selling on Itunes on his record label, Diskowarp. He also has songs in several versions of Dance, Dance, Revolution! He knows an awful, awful lot about J-pop music and Japanese pop culture, and once casually suggested to a J-pop band, The Moist Towelettes, that they cover the Frank Chickens hit, We Are Ninja, (Not Geishas) and they did. They even made up a cute little dance.
His hysterically happy Becky record is available via Itunes, and he also drew the cover. He also has music projects called Peroxide Mocha, Kid Whatever, and Grammar Rodeo. As if that’s not enough, he’s also one of the country’s foremost experts in hideous mugs.

He’s such a special person, I just wanted to take a minute to tell you all about him.

The Portland Invasion Of Damien Hirst’s Brain

damien hirst brain slices

A Damien Hirst exhibit got me out to the Portland Art Museum’s modern art branch, the Jubitz center (Paid for by the people who brought you The World’s Classiest Truck Stop!)   It’s really nice, with four floors of famous and less-famous artists, bringing Stumptown face to face with its first Kenny Scharf, Philip Guston, Francis Bacon, and more. It’s great to have a contemporary art wing to the sometimes fusty and provincial museum.

Once I had enjoyed Oldenberg’s giant, breathing icepack (later visited its brother in the lobby of Cedars-Sinai hospital when my friend Lola broke her leg), a nice assortment of Duchamp stuff, and the Longo crawling-drowning-yuppie sculpture, I made it to the top floor of Hirst pieces. Two of them were giant, one Pharmacy installation and a glass display of many, many animal skeletons. The other two pieces were a drug-spot painting and the above painting of sliced brains, that looked a lot like homemade seitan.

“But for me, from my point of view, I don’t mind if it falls over… if you break the glass you replace the glass, if the sheep falls out you can always get a new sheep.” – Damien Hirst

It’s good for me to go to the museum, not only because I love art, but it’s also a helpful reminder of how tired my whole nosering-and-glasses, bob-haircut, art-chick schtick is. It’s like coming to the place in Battlestar Galactica where all your identical Cylons live.

2015 Update: I was excited to see the Away from the Flock at the Broad this week.  He’s beautiful and sad and it’s like meeting a celebrity who is also a dead lamb in formaldehyde.

Emo-Philia!

I am back from my first trip to glorious Bend, OR, where I went on a comedy pilgrimage to see Emo Philips. Although it took seven hours to drive there and back, and we got pulled over in Redmond for looking weird, and we had curly fries and vodka for dinner, and we sat with a retiree couple who were just glad to be out of the house, we knew it was all worth it when the emcee took the stage and said “I’ll bet you can’t wait for your headliner,  Elmo Philips!”

Emo is, dare I say it, even more dashing at 50 than he was at 30, and his jokes are as surreal and mean-spirited as ever. He has gained approximately 3 pounds, so you can no longer see his hipbones rub together when he walks. He was kind enough to chat with us in greenroom afterwards, although I mostly just talked nonsense at him. I’m petitioning to bring him to Portland in July for a show. He’s aching to join us in our pinko outcast majesty, and I believe he has an inkling that he might well serve as our king.

Snow Day!

From the bus stop at 7AM- I thought things might go badly.

Thank goodness we had five inches of white stuff dumped on us Tuesday, because after MLK day on Monday, we might have had to work four days *in a row*. Unfortunately, that much snow keeps Portland at a standstill, because we don’t really have much by way of chains or snowplows, and essentially we depend on local children building snowmen to clear the streets. Multnomah county is bussing in snowman-hungry children from as far away as Nevada to get the city back to normal.


Bulldogs, annoyed that the snow is up to their elbows.

Goth Nite


Over the long weekend, we took the opportunity to take in a spooky, sinister goth nite  at Hive at Lola’s room, and we dressed appropriately as a chubby French Maid doll and a transvestite military man. Walking up to the bar, I wondered- Aren’t I getting a little old for this shit? If the reader has an opinion, I would kindly ask them to keep it to themselves.

Bike Essay

Me and my bike, making snow angels.

I sent this essay in to a contest for to promote bike commuting, and it was not good enough to win a prize, but it’s plenty good enough to annoy you people with.

Mental Health: I am the last sane person at my office, because I never have to worry about the over-capacity parking lot. Whenever I arrive, I put my bike in the same bike room. And if the racks were full, I could lock my bike to another bike, or I could chain it to a railing. If I were really stuck, I could put it in my office. Try that with a Jeep, and you’ll find you can’t. My tinkling laugh rings out when co-workers run into meetings panting they had to park and walk from Vancouver.

I am guaranteed an hour and a half of quiet “me” time a day, when I am not annoyed by the horrible, grating chitchat of friends and loved ones. If you are a friend or spouse, I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about the others.

Continued Education:

I can pull a blown tube, replace it, and put the tire back on the wheel while standing. It’s like the world’s slowest, lamest magic trick. I can trigger the signal at stop lights by rolling over the mysterious tar circles. The motorists think it’s magic, or that the light turning green has something to do with elves. br /br

Fitness: I have calf muscles that could cut diamonds, or at least slice bread, or definitely spread butter on bread. Unfortunately, that makes for really greasy, buttery calves.

In closing, go ahead and ride a bike, because who wants to live forever anyway?