"Angels for Sale!"

Field Ops
Originally uploaded by deglinkta.

Another typical day at the Field Ops booth in the New Orleans French Market.

"I think that's obnoxious!"

"What part in particular, ma'm?" (knowing full well she'd never read a single line)

"Just the image, and...and the name- Scam Bible!"



It was the Devil that got under her skin. She'd felt his icy touch aeons ago, and now mistook the Pump Handle for her long lost Prince of Darkness. There is an eerie similarity if you buy into that rubbish, but no dice. Pumpy's just a street smart working boy with bills to pay like everybody else.

"Well, I think it's obnoxious to hear your Benny Hinn tell people he'll to send an angel to their door for a couple of hundred bucks. At least I deliver on my promise, and for a lot cheaper. Can I sign a copy for you?"

I actually appreciated the frank response for a change. Most of these southern-fried biblebumpkins can barely articulate a dirty look. For a split second, the old bird made me feel like Jerry Springer- sweet success!

In truth, I'll bet Jesus himself would laugh at the waiter's hilarious bag of tricks. You don't make it through that kind of trial and tribulation without a damn good sense of humor.

Shing-a-lings

CD Reviews by Mr. Shing-a-Ling



The Books- Lost and Safe (sound collage, folktronica)
 
     In my last review I talked about music as ambience, non-linear audio environments. Using electronic or organic means to create a field of sound that can be appreciated in a "Gestalt" sort of way, the whole experience being more that the sum of its parts. Many ambient artists use recordings from the field in their works. They look for inspiration in rural and urban environments, perhaps incorporating the distant roar of a factory or the clanking of a chain on a flag pole into the their compositions. But one thing that is missing from all ambient (and should be by definition) is a lead part or a melody. And sorry, no guitar solos. But not all sound artists have looked at found sound in terms of only ambient possibilities. There are some who hear actual musical or melodical stuctures in the environment. Obvious examples are bird songs. A close friend of mine who is currently getting his PhD is composition has looked to birds for inspiration in melodic development. And anyone who has listened deeply to Jazz players such as Eric Dolphy or Wayne Shorter can find moments in certain solos where the chirping notes of thier saxes transfrom into almost animalistic biological expressions. Human speech can also contain highly melodic possibilities. Minimalist composer, Steve Reich, saw this back in the 60's and used interviews from various speakers to form his compositions, most notibley on his masterpiece "Different Trains" where he lets the spoken word dictate the melodic and rhytmatic essence of the musical pieces he creates.
    Sound artists, The Books, two musicians from two different sides of the Atlantic, have tapped into the melodic potential of the spoken word. Lost and Safe comes as their third album and it mostly stays true to the same musical vision as on the first two. They encorporate plenty of live instumentation, notably guitar, banjo, and violin into cut up and reassembled pieces of sound which include people speaking, children playing, laughs, and grunts. One can't help but imagine the amount of time that must have gone into such a seemingly delicate arrangement of sounds, so called musical or non-musical. The Books are one of the few artists in modern "electronic music" that absolutely don't sound electronic at all. In fact, they might be filed in the folk section of a CD store due to the huge folk-like presence in thier music. They seem to draw alot of influence from grass roots America. The only thing electronic going on here is the electronic manipuation of oranic sounds. It's sound editing as an instrument. How these guys tour live (and I guess they have started doing it) is beyond me. It's pure studio genius. But both of the musicians in The Books can play thier instruments damn well which I guess explains their innate ability to arrange found sounds in such a musical way.
   Some highlights on Lost and Safe are "Be Good To Them Always", where snippits of voice redordings seem selected for their highly emotional content. All these different voices coming together in some magical way and accompanied by rythmatic acoustic guitars and violins. And "An Animated Description of Mr. Maps", which is driven by what seems to be the rustling of footsteps and slamming of doors with several levels of vocals and strategically placed sound samples.
    Artists like The Books are reminding us all of the musical world around us, suggesting that you don't always have to look to "musical instruments" for musical possibilities. Music is alive and well in the voices of your friends, the humming of the insects, or the chiming of a distant clock tower.

Episode 7

Poe Blog
Originally uploaded by deglinkta.

Welcome to yet another Poe Blog w/Peter Francis.

"Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum.."

-Peter Francis

Promethean Books presents

Episode Seven of

"DIDDLING: Considered as One of the Exact Sciences"

By Edgar Allan Poe

"A very simple diddle, indeed, is this. The captain of a ship which is about to sail, is presented by an official looking person, with an unusually moderate bill of city charges. Glad to get off so easily, and confused by a hundred duties pressing upon him all at once, he discharges the claim forthwith. In about fifteen minutes, another and less reasonable bill is handed to him by one who soon makes it evident that the first collector was a diddler, and the original collection a diddle.
And here, too, is a somewhat similar thing, A steamboat is casting loose from the wharf. A traveller, portmanteau in hand, is discovered running towards the wharf at full speed. Suddenly, he makes a dead halt, stoops, and picks up something from the ground in a very agitated manner. It is a pocket book, and- "Has any gentleman lost a pocket book?" he cries. No one can say that he has exactly lost a pocket-book; but a great excitement ensues, when the treasure trove is found to be of value. The boat, however, must not be detained.
"Time and tide wait for no man," says the captain.
"For God's sake, stay only a few minutes," says the finder of the book- "the true claimant will presently appear."
"Can't wait!" replies the man in authority; "cast off there, d' ye hear?"
"What am I to do?" asks the finder, in great tribulation. "I am about to leave the country for some years, and I cannot conscientiously retain this large amount in my possession. I beg your pardon, sir," [here he addresses a gentleman on shore,] "but you have the air of an honest man. Will you confer upon me the favor of taking charge of this pocket-book - I ,em>know I can trust you - and of advertising it? The notes, you see, amount to a very considerable sum. The owner will, no doubt, insist upon rewarding you for your trouble - "
"Me - no, you! - it was you who found the book."
"Well, if you must have it so - I will take a small reward - just to satisfy your scruples. Let me see - why these notes are all hundreds - bless my soul! a hundred is too much to take - fifty would be quite enough, I am sure - "
"Cast off there!" says the captain.
"But then I have no change for a hundred, and upon the whole, you had better - "
"Cast off there!" says the captain.
"Never mind!" cries the gentleman on shore, who has been examining his own pocket-book for the last minute or so - "never mind! I can fix it - here is a fifty on the Bank of North America - throw mw the book."
And the over-conscientious finder takes the fifty with marked reluctance, and throws the gentleman the book, as desired, while the steamboat fumes and fizzes on her way. In about a half an hour after her departure, the "large amount" is seen to be a "counterfeit presentment," and the whole thing is a capital diddle.

(To be continued...)

The Tattooed FloorDick

Field Ops
Originally uploaded by deglinkta.

Something happened at the Field Ops booth the other day that reminded me of another great use for the Scam Bible.

One of those tattooed-from-head-to-toe types passed by the table, exhibiting the usual mating-like behavior that occurs when someone is trying to get up the gumption to step up and let us know they're pissed about our silly little book. This always unfolds in just about the same way-

First there's an initial jolt of recognition followed by a brief but concerted stare as their brain retrieves the unpleasant memory or tries to make sense of the cover's subtly satanic elements. Next, afraid of being noticed, they quickly avert their eyes and shuffle on down a couple of booths, stopping to fidget with some chinese trinket or whatnot, all the while nervously glancing back, and attempting to regain their composure. Finally, they make a wide circle, peeping not so subtly over rows and rows of knock-off purses and African handicrafts, just like they were a kid again, and eventually, if they muster the courage, wind up back at the table, where I greet them knowingly, but real friendly-like:

"How goes it, sir? Don't be shy. It's one of the only hilarious criminal repertoires in existence. I'll bet Kenneth Lay got his start as a scamming waiter, blah, blah, blah..." (or something like that)

This guy just nodded his head, and forced a smile, or at least I think he smiled, because he was so covered with tattoos that what seemed like his mouth might well have been an oriental carp or part of his indigenous New Zealand war pattern. I mean this cat was covered. Ouch!

I'll admit, at first I fell victim to the old stereotype that all tattooed guys are sailors or ex-cons- hip, in short, so being that I love the sea and have always been a little morally challenged, I figured we'd have something to talk about.

So much for that. This guy couldn't have been more square.

"I own a bar." He said, staring at me intensely, as if he expected a dramatic reaction.

"Sorry to hear that, Queequeg" I shrugged. "How much you want for it?"

Then he made a disturbing confession:

"I caught one of my employees reading this the other day, so I grabbed it from him and slapped him upside the head with it."

What the f#@ck?!! ... What a dick! ... But that wasn't all:

"Actually, it was my dishwasher."

Wow. A poor, overworked, underpaid dishwasher, taking a break on his pickle bucket and trying to get a laugh from his brand new book. Say no more. Ever wonder how certain restaurant managers earned the term "FloorDick"? Which brings me to that other great use for your Scam Bible. If you're minding your own business and some a-hole walks up and slaps you with your own copy- snatch it back, roll it up tightly, and jam it in his f#@king eye. Then proceed to beat the tarshit out of him to your heart's content. Trust me, nobody cries for jerks like that, so do us all a favor and give him a proper ass-whoopin'.