And to comment on my own post: I got into an interesting conversation with a photographer tonight about band photos. We agreed that it was a problem—photographing a full band and not just individual members. The canonical shot is a bunch of people against a brick wall.
I was wondering if there are good shots that anyone thinks of as good band photos.
I always refer to photos of peoples standing about slightly separate from each other as a 'band photo.' Like, three friends and myself standing on a giant rock? Band photo!
Musicians are "filthy", no? "Filthy licks", "filthy fills", etc? Do you feel me?
I've definitely heard of filthy licks, but when it comes to fills I think they're more sick than filthy.
Heard, and provided my fair share, of.
when it comes to fills I think they're more sick than filthy
Granted. So you only feel me...sort of?
I once sat a row behind the drummer from Motorhead on a flight to Cleveland. No, wait, it was the bassist. And now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure the band was Anthrax. Oops, it was actually Metallica. And it was the band's second bassist, Jason Somebodyorother, who joined up after the first guy spontaneously combusted or whatever. Anyway, Jason totally felt me after he learned how much rock and roll lingo I know.
Speaking of Mötorhead, Lemmy's available on Netflix (not instant). Added!
Apparently Frank Zappa once said: If ever there's an obscene noise to be made on an instrument, it's going to come out of a guitar. On a saxophone you can play sleaze. On a bass you can play balls. But on a guitar you can be truly obscene...Let's be realistic about this, the guitar can be the single most blasphemous device on the face of the earth. That's why I like it...The disgusting stink of a too-loud electric guitar: now that's my idea of a good time.
Here's a thought: the person I was describing in the OP is a drummer, and I admire his playing. Calling out his drumming with a negative term is a way of suggesting he's better than I am (which is true!) in a way that expresses simultaneously frustration and admiration.
My Aunt Adrienne was in town tonight. Story/quote of the evening: "The last time I was in L.A., we were going to see Paul Butterfield -- he used to hang around the University [of Chicago], not going to classes, he just wanted to play music with some people, so I knew him -- and he was really freakin' out, smoking pot in this shitty motel room on Sunset and blocking up the doors with towels so no one would know -- I think Kesey was there that time, handing out electric kool-aid, and Del Close was definitely doing this thing with electric fluorescent lights..."
Møtörhèåd, maybe, if they'd rocked harder.
I certainly use disgusting as a term of --- I don't quite know --- certainly, not praise simpliciter. Filth, on the other hand, tends positive.
(Doesn't everyone just rely on tone to do the hard work of conveying meaning?)
19 is a glimpse into our dystopian future, after metal bands finally learn about Unicode.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=khJKq_kJK7Q
Tête de moteur
17: he used to hang around the University [of Chicago], not going to classes, he just wanted to play music with some people, so I knew him
Where he met up with Elvin Bishop, who was a student.
Stanley, I charge you with getting everyone around there to refer to Trump's winery as "Château Vulgarian".
I think the full name is Chateau de Vulgarian Court-digité
20: They should come to Chicago and have our mutual FB friend come do the pics, right? Or chip in to bring her to them?
26: With the product informally known as "Rug Juice".
It will be fabulously expensive, come in a bottle flecked with gold leaf, and taste like piss.
If he's really running for president, he'll presumably print a copy of his birth certificate on every bottle.
Imagine you're a hyperentitled Swedish hipster - in fact, imagine you're a whole flock of them - and you've won a Levi's design competition and got an expenses-paid trip to San Francisco.
Obviously, the first thing you'll do is take gratuitous band photos everywhere. In fact, you're going to project "band" as hard as you can without actually learning an instrument. You'll hire a bus with a Kenworth-ish conventional-drive cab (for the look) and tinted windows.
You will put up at the Phoenix. And you will of course not miss the opportunity to shout "LARS! LARS! LAAARRRS!" outside my room at 2.20 am after I get back from drinking with Wlfsn, Josh, and Minivet. Don't bother if you're not going to keep it up for at least forty minutes, and don't be a little bitch and jack it in when my boss* ventures out in a towel to curse at you**. No. Complain to my sleepless and heavily jetlagged colleague who is also peering round his door watching the show that you're "from a little town in Sweden" and deserve more understanding, and whatever you do, keep yelling.
*This must have been quite the sight
**Perhaps I should have intervened instead