Lost: Cool Calm Pete's Trail Through Snail Mail

Mr. and Mrs. Donald Wilkinson

So like a week ago I got a package in the mail. It was from my friends Don and Alex Wilkinson. It was addressed to Jon "Warlock" Hanks. Mysterious yes, but I was pumped. I love getting shit in the mail from friends, and this time it was a CD to listen to. Sweet!
     A burned CD of hiphop music cryptically labelled "Cool Calm Pete." I guess I missed alot of hiphop during the mid 2000s trying so hard to keep my pulse on punk music. Well I gotta thank the Wilkinsons for sending me this disc in 2013 because it's never too late to appreciate some good ass music.
     It turns out the blank disc was (is) a copy of Lost by rapper Cool Calm Pete. Smooth sultry grooves, with just the right edge of creepiness to compliment the directly mellow rhymes of this NYC-based Korean rapper. Down with Def Jux, you know the boy can rap and the beats are not to be trifled with. I like the attitude of this guy. His style is aggressive without being phony. Seemingly more influenced by Wu Tang and Rakim than Company Flow, he wears the "backpacker" label on his sleeve without coming off as a corny wigger. 

The boy Pete

    At a time (2005) when every new MC was trying to be Eminem, Cool Calm Pete comes off as very comfortable in his own skin. And sound the gong, because as records like this continue to come out (and the fact that I am writing about them 8 years late) proves that hiphop has truly gone universal. Maybe this is already an overstatement at this stage in the game, but rap music no longer belongs to one culture. As Pete asserts on "Tune In", "the new American pastime is rap." Whether a marketing ploy or a an organic shift in cultural attitudes, rap music is for everybody, even the nerdy Korean kid from Queens.
     Lost is a good ride from start to finish, from its eerie down-East directions introduction to its obligatory Def Jux-esque guest spots (RJD2 and Blockhead respectively) filling out the end. Thirstin Howl III and Jungle Mike Gee also make modest appearances, ever upping the credibility of Cool Calm Pete, although he really needs no assistance from the established.
     Modern production techniques are blended nicely with raw turntabilsm. Familiar breaks intermingle with space-aged effects and violin strings, making it hard for the listener to place what era this shit came out in. I'm not surprised that it came out in 2005, but I wouldn't have been to learn that it was a recent release, either.
    So what happened to this dude? Or am I just proving that I know nothing about the current rap game as well by asking that question? Why has this dude not blown? I'm not some guru or anything, but how had I not heard this record until eight years after its release? The answers to these questions are I don't know and also who cares? Because listening to Lost will probably keep me distracted from wondering for another eight years. Hell, A Prince Among Thieves still blows my mind.
Thanks, Donkey.

Whoa, It's Magic!

Whimsy Lens

Some snapshots and descriptions of funny/interesting/whimsical shit I've run across...

                                          It was ADHD awareness week when I was in West Chester, PA. I paid no attention

Wild Western Etiquette

True...

Carving on the property that my homie Kevin lives on. One of the oldest farms in PA, the family that owns it actually received the deed from William Penn!

Whimsical-ass-house in Zionsville, IN

diy  stone deaf forever

Interesting choice for a mural in a sandwich shop in Springfield, IL?

Creepy and ill-frequented, situated across the street from Cristy's and Tripoli's, Gilly's Pizzeria isn't the most popular place on Salisbury Beach.

Note written to San Rafael, CA restaurant owner: "Dear Mrs. Hernandez, the lime green color you selected for your new restaurant is garish and ugly. That color may be appropriate for Puerto Rico, but it isn't for Marin County. You could have used a warm, colorful scheme like the one at Las Camellias, just up the street. It's attractive and tasteful. I enjoyed the food at your place on Fourth Street, but I will not patronize your new place unless you repaint it. Furthermore, I will encourage my friends not to dine at your restaurant until you remove the lime green blight" This note is framed and displayed on the front door of the establishment in question, which is still painted lime green.

Salisbury Beach

What can I say?

Hold It

Tripping

Surrounded by epic beauty. Inspiration is out there. Here's some sights I've seen. We got us a pretty good country here, folks. Let's not forget that...

Joshua Tree National Park, California

Between Albuquerque and Santa Fe, New Mexico

Badlands, South Dakota

Kansas/Colorado Border  "Kanorado"

San Francisco, California

Yellowstone National Park, Montana

Plum Island, Massachusetts

Niagra Falls, New York

West Seattle, Washington

Burnin' And Lootin': Warlock Reviews The Encyclopedia Of Reggae

"The Encyclopedia Of Reggae" by Mike Alleyne

Right about now in this time, as I would like to tell it to ya:

Also from the Northgate Branch of the Seattle Public Library, this book caught my eye the other day. It's called The Encyclopedia Of Reggae: The Golden Age Of Roots Reggae. My friend Brian has The Encyclopedia Of Punk in his living room (I'm prone to leafing through it when I go to his house) and my other friend Pete tells me that there's an Encyclopedia Of Metal as well. Like Punk, Reggae is a bit cheesy. Sort of tabloid-ish with a bit of a high school yearbook vibe the coffee table book is great for leafing through at your buddy's house or would probably do well in a pristine bathroom, (it's a fancy coffee table book) The Encyclopedia Of Reggae is by no means a definitive history or even necessarily weighing in heavily as a worthy contributor...but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't cool for me to roll up one spliff and peruse the book while I listened to a strictly Jamaican playlist that I concocted for the occasion.

"Just play dat. I-mon wan' hear it 'pon di turntable"

It has the vibe of a reggae album cover, with all kinds of old photos and fliers, etc. I poured over the photographs of my obscure and ill-documented heroes for hours. Those dudes sure did consume a shit ton of joints and Red Stripes!

The Encyclopedia Of Reggae doesn't actually attempt to cover "reggae" as a whole, but focuses on what it refers to as the golden age of reggae--the 70's--thus largely omitting the nitty gritty details of ska,dancehall and digital dub from its dubious indexes. What I find crazy about this book is the undertaking of the sheer scope of "reggae" (Jamaican) music. I can't think of any other form of popular music that is so tenuously intertwined with the religious, political and social climate of one specific geographical location. Documenting the history of punk must have been an undertaking, for sure. New York, London, Detroit and LA all started taking their rock a little rawer and rowdier around the same time after the hippie crash, but the history of reggae music is concentrated, with roughly 95% of it unfolding on the island of Jamiaca and the other 5% on the island of England. And as far as the history of metal it's not that hard to recount Maiden's numerous lineup changes, is it? But actually writing about the history of reggae music in a linear manner is mindblowing. You can't write about it without attempting to break down the entire culture of  a nation for the reader. Rock & Roll can be called American if you like, but so can Disneyland. There is only one Jamaica and its history is inextricably linked with that of reggae music.

Reggae album covers have always been dope

So after that tirade, I say Kudos to Mr. Mike Alleyne for his attempt at chronicling such a sprawling subject. Or, I should say, Big Up Yaself.

There's all kinds of lists in the back of this thing, all subjective, like "Top 25 Essential Roots Reggae Albums" "Top 10 Songs About Ganja" "Top 10 Underrated Artists", etc. Also there are a few sections deviating from the "encyclopedia" format of blurbs about artists, record companies, etc., including a three page insert attempting to explain the connection between reggae music and marijuana and another spread about Chinese Jamaicans and their involvement in reggae music in the 70's and beyond.

And on that categorical note, here's the playlist that I threw together and am listening to as I write this.
Ah sey one. Bad like yaz.

"Cobras!"

"Cobras!" photo by ANelson Tampa, FL, circa 2001

Sonic Slab Review Revue (The Third)

Today's snatch o' spins comes from the Northgate branch of the Seattle Public Library system...

Miles Davis-Agharta "If peeing your pants is cool, consider me Miles Davis." That lady from Billy Madison  was right. Well, I don't know if she was right about the urine but Miles Davis is cool as fuck! Agharta is a double album that was recorded live in Tokyo, Japan on February 1st, 1975. It's Miles at some of his most ravenous, psychedelic best. Miles was pretty tight with Jimi Hendrix and it's on recordings like these that you can hear the musical influence that no doubt surfaced from their friendship. Davis wails on his trumpet like a rock star would his strat. A crazy thing about this record and about jazz in general I think is that the recording is not studio based. It's recorded live as a performance so there is a definitive vibe. The songs are serendipitous events rather than polished compositions. Agharta is one of two double-albums that Miles recorded that day! Agharta was recorded in the afternoon and is reportedly more mellow than the evening-induced Pangaea. If you ever thought jazz was boring, you might want to check these shits out. Drop some acid if you like. Catch the vibe. This ain't no trolley time swing. This is Miles Davis.

The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion-Controversial Negro What I'm about to say is gonna sound dickish, but I mean it in a sincere, objective and down to earth kind of way: I guess if I liked Jon Spencer Blues Explosion more than I do, I would really like this CD. I like the band ok, I guess. Well really I only know that one song from Ed Templeton's part in Heavy Metal. But whatever, while I don't know and am not really blown away by the material, I love the intimate recording (live in Tuscon. It sounds like it could be a show at the local punker bar or whatever). I like live recordings of one entire show rather than a compilation of a bunch of different stops on a tour or what have you. So I like the album and I want to like the band more than I do. For fans of JSBX I'm sure this shit rocks your world, and I get it. I'm just saying if I never listen to it again, personally I'll be fine. And I hope that makes sense... Also not entirely sure about the title...

"Cobras!"

The Budos Band-III To me, there's not alot of new, exciting shit happening in music right now. The Roots  work for Jimmy Fallon. There's a ho-hum obligatory rock n roll hall of fame induction, annually. Above the underground, there's not alot of exciting groups or collaboratives pushing the boundaries. This musical generation doesn't really have a Motown, Stax, 2Tone, or  even Hellcat. But wait. From Brooklyn, NY (Believe the Hype) comes Daptone Records, a seriously on point soul music collective with a diy ethos. Fuck yes, I am into this. They have an insane roster and the Budos Band are no exception. Honestly after having listened to the first two records I hesitated at checking this one out, mostly because of the cover. I hate snakes and there is a very real photo of a giant hissing cobra on the cover. Honestly, I don't even like picking up the case. And a bunch of song titles are snake-related: "Black Venom" "River Serpentine"..."Nature's Wrath" may be a bit of a stretch but I can't help but think of slithering disgusting snakes when I listen to most of these songs. Thanks alot, Budos Band. Having said all of that of course this record is tight. I try to describe the Budos Band to people and sometimes I say that they sound like an ill college football marching band at a house party cuttin' the fuck loose in like 1973. I don't know. It's a weird description I guess. But they are real funky and heavy repetitive groove orientated with these huge brass horn lines, wicka wa wa soul guitar, etc. All instrumental. All dope. Highly recommended like most everything on Daptone. Fuck those fucking snakes though.

Mucklecrapshoot

Carbon Footprint

Took a ride to the Muckleshoot Reservation skatepark this morning. It's a bit of a jaunt from Seattle, but for whatever reason I feel compelled to get in my car and drive to some far-flung park most mornings. I'd say it's about freedom, but sometimes it almost feels like I'm forced to take the ride! It sounds like a gay extreme sports thing to say, but I mean it more in the actual metaphorical sense: the fire won't burn without the stoke. Now--to transfer some of the appreciation and enthusiasm for skateboarding into other of life's pursuits... and vice versa.

When I arrived at the park after about an hour's drive (with traffic) the chain link fence was locked. Fuck. The first time I ever went to Muckleshoot I towed the line. Like today, the gate was locked that day, so I scrambled all over the reservation trying to find the appropriate person to talk to about letting me into the park. I had after all, driven "all the way from Seattle", a phrase that would for better or worse, become my mantra while dealing with Muckleshoot's peculiar infrastructure.

Anyway, I finally ended up at the general information kiosk in the main hall of the reservation's pseudo-city hall building. Nothing primitive about the architecture--quite the opposite. The vast hall seemed disproportionate to the reservation's civic needs, but what the hell do I know, I'm just here for the grinds.

"Stay away from the skatepark, Carol Anne."

So there was this very short receptionist at the kiosk. She looked like Zelda Rubinstein, the clairvoyant in The Poltergeist. The lady was fuckin' weird and she knew it and she knew that I knew it. She was listening to and singing along with "    Iko Iko" (I chose the Cyndi Lauper version for the link because the lady had a certain Lauper-ish quality to her, I'd have to say. Not anything that I can really put my finger on, but in the same way Cyndi Lauper has always kind of reminded me of a bag lady, the lady at the desk struck me as having a twinge of the Lauper to her vibe.)
"Hi!" I said to her.
No response, she just kept a rockin... "Is the skatepark open today?" I queried. "I just drove down from Seattle and I see that the gate is locked and I don't understand why..."
"My flag boy and your flag boy..." she was actually singing along to the Madri Gras Indians anthem, right in my face.

"Can I have a paper bag?"

"The skatepark is closed for repairs", I finally got out of her, after she made three or four phone calls and eventually got the Reservation Sheriff to physically arrive and confirm her ludicrous statement.
"Well I've been over at the skatepark and I can tell you that there's nothing wrong with it" I pleaded my case.
There was some trash scattered about, which is what the "repairs" turned out to be. I offered to pick up all the trash if they'd let me skate.
"The repairs have been scheduled", Zelda Lauper scorned me.
I left without skateboarding that day.

The next time I went down there I hopped the fence and skated the park without incident.

Muckleshoot Skatepark: Drink it in. No, really. Drink it in.

Today I hopped the fence as well but eventually security showed up. I skated there by myself for awhile and suddenly felt like wearing my helmet. Lame? Maybe, but I was illegally skating by myself on a somewhat eerie Federal Indian Reservation. I wasn't trying to get knocked out.

So there I am riding, helmet on the noggin when the security dude showed up.
I've been reading this book called The Art Of Happiness by His Holiness the Dali Lama, and part of it talks about compassion. It's a trip. That is to say I've been tripping out on it. It's like a little game that I'm playing with myself these days--I'm trying to zap all these fools with my compassion rays--breaking relationships down to universal similarities rather than arbitrary differences.

RIP Yauch

Anyhow when the Reservation security guy showed up I zapped him.
"What's up man, how are you?" I asked tentatively.
"So you're down here trespassing on my property..."
"Aw man, I meant you absolutely disrespect. I just drove down from Seattle and I had to skate! Kid in a candy store I guess..."
"Well I understand that," he said. "We keep it locked when it's wet and dangerous, but it looks pretty dry today..."
"It's riding great!" I enthusiastically assured him.
The fellow sheepishly wished me a good morning and split. The park was unlocked, and I kept skating. Compassion, dude. Compassion.

Not Going Down Easy

I had new pants
I wanted her
To take off
But she took off
She never took off
That plane
Never landed in the rain
Gulp and gasp
Pain
From a glass
A bitter numb sensation
Alas
Alas

Card Stache Against You