No, Baby

Hey, more Who talk...

Aimlessly reading some entertainment headlines today, I came across the news that Mike Myers is slated to star in a Keith Moon biopic. I like Myers as much as the next guy -- I shamelessly admit to loving all three Austin Powers movies -- but I'm having some difficulty finding this to be a good idea. Maybe he could pull off Moon's later years, though he's already about a decade older than Moon was when he died. But as a teen, when Moon joined the Who? Just not plausible.

Besides, actor/former Phantom Planet drummer Jason Schwartzman is clearly the best man for the job. I suggested this in the pages of Magnet in 2002, but the article is no longer available online, damn it. Just take my word for it.

Blog Me, Feel Me, Touch Me, Heal Me

Though it looks like it only exists as a place to read his novella, Pete Townshend has a blog. I didn't much care for the excerpts, but in looking at some of the comments, I found this guy who's writing an online Townshend bio. I haven't waded through much of it yet, but I will shortly. If any rock star is worthy of an exhaustive biography, preferably in hardcover with lots of photos, Pete's it. This'll do for now.

Misc.

Something I feared might happen -- not having anything worth blogging about -- has essentially come to fruition. Still, I forge ahead:

**This is possibly the creepiest thing ever, even more so than the real thing.

**I saw Idlewild at Metro Thursday night. I find Idlewild to be one of the best bands going these days (Warning/Promises will probably top my best-of list), and they did not disappoint. Great songs played with passion, with no real dead spots...just the "hits". A couple of bonuses (bonii?) capped the evening nicely: The place was maybe 3/4 full, so there was plenty of room to move around; not too many people were smoking, so I walked out of the club as April fresh as I walked in; and the show was over by 11:30. I was home by 11:45, walked the dog (not a euphemism for anything perverted) and was in bed by midnight.

**Saw my final Cubs game of the year, a desultory loss to the Cardinals, on Sept. 17. Final tally with me in attendance this season: 5-7. Overall record since 2001: 21-28.

**Happy 40th to the fine folk at Fort Recovery. As I mentioned in my first post, Jerry and I almost bought the farm together one long, drunken night about 10 years ago. Given that I generally have very little to write about, I'll tell the story now. (I suppose I could save it, but nah.)

I was living in Lexington, Ky. (definitely a story for another day), and I drove up to Columbus to see Guided By Voices play at the Alrosa Villa, now infamous for being where Dimebag Darrell got shot. We both (me and Jerry, not me and Dimebag) proceeded to get liquored up. Go figure, and at a GBV show? Crazy. Anyway, In my altered state, I thought I was in better shape to drive Jerry's car than he was. Turns out, not so much, as right near his house was an intersection that I thought was a four-way stop. We go through the intersection only to then hear screeching brakes and a screaming horn to our left; I punched the gas just enough (and the other guy swerved just enough) to avoid what would've been a nasty collision.

I'm not exaggerating when I say it's only been recently that I stopped having nightmares about dying in that crash. Again, I'm not kidding.

Long story short, Jerry was incredibly pissed off at me (rightly so) and proceeded to berate me until I went to sleep. After I left the next morning, we didn't speak for about two years. A few of my attempts at IMs were greeted with, "Blow me." Our friendship had always been a little tenuous anyway, due to that guy thing of always feeling compelled to rip on one another, and this episode was nearly end of it.

I'm happy to say that we did end up speaking about The Incident at one point, though what I remember most about the conversation is that Jerry said I was being a jerk that night previous to the near-fatal non-crash. Our friendship can probably be summed up by the fact that I thought the same thing about him. But at least we talked about it, and we remain friends.

His alt-country/Americana band, Moviola, comes to town later this year. Check them out.

Hard to Argue

Quote of the day, taken somewhat out of context from The Chicago Tribune:

Detroit Lions backup cornerback R.W. McQuarters, an ex-Chicago Bear, is certain (former Bears coach) Dick Jauron won't approach his second Chicago trip any differently.

"Dick is Dick," McQuarters began. "When I say Dick is Dick, Dick is Dick."

Completely switching gears, I was reminded today of a conversation I had with two of my friends four years ago regarding what we thought was the greatest rock 'n' roll song of all-time. One of my friends said the Beatles' "A Day in the Life." My vote is for the Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again." "A Day in the Life" is inarguably a classic -- a milestone, even, for pop music -- but it doesn't really rock all that much. Both songs are epics, yet the Who's power and that spine-tingling Roger Daltrey scream seal it for me. Of course, I'm also way more into the Who than the Beatles, so it's not that tough a call.

The version of "Fooled" in The Kids Are Alright is beyond amazing, by the way. The shot of Pete Townshend jumping high and landing on his knees while Daltrey screams up a lung is the finest moment in rockumentary annals.

Reader(s), let's hear what you think.

The Sign at the Fork in the Road Said "Straight On"

A little late on this (as if there were any expectations), but I saw a great Portastatic show Friday night at the Empty Bottle. I hadn't seen Portastatic since a short show at a Nashville record store in 1997 and missed Mac McCaughan and crew's last Chicago trip a couple of years ago due to being old and lame. So, I'd built up hearty expecations for this gig, and it didn't disappoint.

Though I might quibble with a song choice or two (I usually do, it's a curse), the four-piece band, featuring Superchunk's Jim Wilbur on bass, heartily rocked the packed, sweaty crowd. Highlights included a bunch of great material from the recently released Bright Ideas, a stunning version of "Naked Pilseners" and a second encore consisting of the awe-inspiring "Spying On The Spys," probably my favorite Portastatic tune.

And now, a related digression: The only other time I caught Portastatic was in 1995, opening for Guided By Voices at D.C.'s Black Cat. At that point, I'd interviewed McCaughan twice -- the tally is up to three times (here's one of the results; I hope I've improved) -- but never in person. It being a GBV show, I naturally proceeded to get oiled; when I finally mustered up enough liquid courage to approach McCaughan, I babbled nervously and incoherently for a few minutes until a patient McCaughan was rescued by the lead singer of Nation Of Ulysses. I slinked off, entirely mortified.

I was able to speak with McCaughan for a few minutes pre-set at the Empty Bottle, knowing at least in my own tiny mind that such a confab would result in a small measure of closure/redemption for my previous embarrassment. McCaughan surely remains oblivious to the whole notion, and rightly so. But the combination of his fantastic performance and that brief, non-drunken chat made for a memorable night indeed.

At Least I'll Have the New Journey Record

I'm continually amazed at what you can find on the Internet. Here's a site that predicts when you'll die. FYI, don't invite me to anything on May 9, 2039. I'll be sweating it May 8, that's for sure.

Stop the presses! Journey's new record, Generations (due Oct. 4), has an updated track list (did anyone know, or care about, the old one?):

Faith In The Heartland
The Place In Your Heart
A Better Life
Every Generation
Butterfly (She Flies Alone)
Believe
Knowing That You Love Me
Out of Harms (sic) Way
In Self-Defense
Better Together
Gone Crazy
Beyond The Clouds
Never Too Late (remixed version)