Went to see Nick Lowe last night at the Ark in Ann Arbor.  He was in really fine form.  As he’s gotten older (he’s 58 now), his music has gotten more and more straightforward and direct.  He really lays it out there.  I’ve heard his newer music described as “country”, and whlile this is not true in instrumentation,  I think what people are reacting to is the emotional directness of what he is saying.  And what is he saying?  Well, certain themes couldn’t be more clear:  Regret.  Ending up a bitter, lonely person.  The slim chance at redemption that is, nonetheless, a chance.  He is not pussyfooting around what he thinks is really important, and there are no Elvis Costello crosswood puzzle lyrics.  It’s just out there.  Oh, and it’s very catchy, too.

The lowlight of the concert (though I’m sure it will be a highlight to read about!) is that for the first time ever at The Ark we had the kind of drink, unruly losers you normally see at metal concerts, screaming out at inappropriate times, drumming along in double time, talking loudly, etc.  I don’t think I’m going out on a limb here to say the average audiences at the Ark are white middle-class forty-something college-educated professionals who hired a babysitter for a night out (myself included here!), so needless to say no one was very happy about this.  Intimidating liberal stares did nothing.  “Shush” from audience members did nothing.  The Brad-meister actively thought about asserting his adult male, ntesterone and Wine-tini infused self, and whether or not a head butt really works in real life.  The ushers  came by and there were loud shouts and they refused to move.  So during “(What’s So Funny ‘Bout) Peace, Love and Understanding” (can you say “irony?”), the Ann Arbor bike cops showed up, and there was a scuffle, and one guy “fell” to the floor and was handcuffed, and the other guy and their girlfriends were escorted out (the other loser in the Savoy Brown T-shirt wisely clammed up when the 5-0 showed up).  I musy say, it certainly made for a memorable evening’s entertainment!

 Encore:  “The Beast In Me” (but of course!)

 We went to the Funky Ferndale Art fair on Sunday, and Coop got to do some modeling for Metro Parent magazine.  Here’s the results.  Look out Hollywood!

My favorite new comedy show.

Check out their site here.

 What have I been reading/listening to?  James Ellroy’s L.A. crime novel WHITE JAZZ.  It’s about a totally corrupt lawyer/cop/enforcer for the LAPD named David Klein who plays every possible angle and both ends against the middle in 1958 Los Angeles, trying to investigate a routine break-in at a drug Dealer’s house that turns into something much, much bigger.  He’s a murderer, he’s a racist, he’s a thug, he’s got a little too much interest in his own sister…  It’s populated with historical figures and events (Howard Hughes, Joan Crawford, tearing down the Chavez  Ravine slums to make way for Dodger stadium) and enough stacatto slang to make your head spin.  Rumour has it that when Ellroy turned in his manuscript to the Publisher they said “Dude, this is waaaay too long”, so he took it back and removed every adjective and made every sentence about two to three words long.  It reads like the lovechild of Mickey Spillane and Jack Keruoac.  Best of all, when you listen to it on your iPod, it sounds like Leut. Bradshaw of Firesign Theater fame on all-night bender.

Western and Adams-the whores briefed nice-quasi-deputies for the night. Bluesuits out in force: popping tricks, impounding trick cars. Prostie vans behind Cooper’s Donuts; Vice bulls bagging IDs. Men stationed southbound and northbound-hot to foil sex prowlers hot to rabbit. My perch: Copper’s roof. Ordnance: binoculars, a bullhorn. Dig the panic: Johns soliciting whores-cops grabbing them. Vehicles impounded, van detainment-fourteen fish bagged so far, prelim Q&A: ”You married?” ”You on parole or probation?” ”You like it white or colored? Sign this waiver, we might cut you loose at the station.”

It’s also supposed to be a movie directed by James Carnahan of SMOKING ACES and the much, much better NARC, starring swooney hipster George Clooney.  Honestly–what’s not to like?

Let’s get something straight off the bat:  I’m a guy.  I like boobs as much as any other guy.  Maybe more than any other guy.  But I gotta come out and say something –What is it with clothing trends these days?  Specifically, what’s with the baby doll tops all women, young and old, grandmas and babysitters, are being forced to wear?  You know the deal –it’s got this big, scooped-out top, and this kind of elastic band under the breastal area, and then this kind of frilly thing underneath.  What is with that?  Because a) it practically forces a lady  to put her chestal area on complete, unfettered display, usually in a combo with some Victorian push-up thing, until your boobs, if you’re blessed that way, are forced out so far and so up that you practically need a tray underneath to hold them.  And then the bottom part, unless you are Kate Moss model-thin, kind of sticks out and makes you look pregnant, or worse.  I mean, who came up with this thing?  Russ Meyer?  I mean, and I repeat here, I am a guy, and from a guy point of view…well, we won’t go into that.  But from a Dad point of view, from a “women are equal partners in society” good liberal point of view, this is, well… not right!  Is there any lingerie left for the bedroom anymore?

What really worries me is, what’s next for us guys?  Man sheaths?  Am I supposed unzip my junk wrap my junk in a gaily colored silk sock? What is happening here?  Hello?  Hello?  Is this thing on? **BRRZRRPP**

I will admit something kind of embarrassing and frustrating.  I am losing, or have lost, a portion of my hearing.  I am not getting any younger (yet!), I spent several years in very loud rock and roll bands, and now, it seems, I am paying the price and/or learning the difficult lesson the rest of the aging trailing edge boomers already know.  When my children talk to me on at crowded fairs in a high voice with a lot of background noise, I can’t really understand them.  I have to ask them to say it again.  And sometimes again.  And maybe one more time.  When I’m in a car and there’s a lot of traffic noise, and my friends in the back of the SUV are chatting, I have to take it on faith that they’re not mocking me.  I know people are talking, but I can’t hone in on what they’re saying. 

Obviously there’s not much I can do about this.  I know a few people with hearing aids or who have difficulty hearing. They were born with hearing loss.   I don’t think my problem is serous enough for an electronic device–it’s mostly situation specific.  It can get very frustrating, because you can feel stupid saying “Pardon” and “What?” and “What was that again?”  And what’s more frustrating if the person does repeat it, and you do understand, it’s usually not “disconnect the blue wire or the house will explode” or “I must have you–now!” but some lame everyday thing that makes you wonder why you bothered to ask them to repeat it. 

Anyway, welcome to middle age.  It’s awesome.  I said–it’s AWESOME!

If you are one of the two or three people who actually check on this thing to see what we’ve been up to, sorry if I haven’t updated, but what with the Michigan State Fair and school starting and the PTA being back in session I’m not even sure what day it is anymore.  But suffice it to say everyone is fine, everyone is busy busy busy, and everyone could use a nap.  Oh yeah–like that’s gonna happen.  See you in June 2008, baby.

More startling pictures here.