The Important Albums from 1980 for Tosh

 I turned 26-years old, working in a record store (Licorice Pizza), and only a handful of albums were essential to me in 1980. In no special order: Magazine's "Correct Use of Soap," Wall of Voodoo's first EP, The Cramps "Songs the Lord Taught Us," Human League's "Travelogue," Colin Newman's "A-Z," and The Feelies "Crazy Rhythms." Three of the albums were totally new sounds for me at the time: the Cramps, Wall of Voodoo, and Feelies. "Crazy Rhythms" I was really crazy about. At the time, their guitar orientated music sounded serious, and in a sense, sound like Television's younger brother. I also was impressed by how they allowed 'silence' between the tracks on the album. A moment to pause before the next aural adventure. -Tosh Berman

Tosh's Journal - October 21 (Alfred Nobel, Edogawa Rampo & Lux Interior)

TOSH’S JOURNAL

October 21

Alfred Nobel invented dynamite, and he blew up my world. I had dreams every night for a whole year of obtaining the Nobel Prize for literature, and then… I didn’t get it. I brought this up before, but I can’t even begin to tell you how much it has disturbed me. I planned around my life on obtaining the prize, and the way I see it, I should have won. Day-after-day, I put words on a blank page, for not entertaining you dear readers, but to convey to the judges of the Nobel Academy my importance to my field of interest - which of course is (or was) literature. But now, and since I missed out on the award, I’m thinking of quitting writing and becoming a criminal. And no, not a literary outlaw type of criminal, but a true one. I will now devote myself to one purpose, and that one purpose will be destruction. If I can’t build up my world, then I’ll tear everyone else’s pathetic dreams down. If for not anything else, at least we will be placed on the same eye-to-eye level.

As Alfred once said, “Home is where I work, and I work everywhere.” I need to get to follow that advice to the “T,” and we’re not talking about Texas. Whenever something goes boom in the night, I’m the face behind the t-made disaster, even if you can’t see my beautiful face among the smoke. “Justice is to be found only in imagination.” Well, baby, I got a big head full of imagination!

The only one is stopping me from doing what I have to do is Kogoro Akechi, who is considered to be the greatest detective in Japan, and perhaps the world. He is a master of disguises, so I’m not sure who is around me. He can even do gender switches. One moment you’re in bed with a beautiful woman, and you wake up in the morning with a male cop. I get the impression that I’m being followed. Especially when I’m walking around Shinjuku. I often look at a window display, and through the reflection, I see a presence looking at me, and when I turn around, he’s gone. This happens a lot. I once received a letter from Akechi, mentioning that he was a fan of my writing. Even that, I suspect he is just buttering me up so he can nail me in the end. I need to ensure the end doesn’t happen.

When I step in a room, I make sure the keyhole is covered up. He’s not into technology. He likes to get his information from the old-fashioned way by looking through windows, keyholes, and occasionally reading one’s lips from a distance. He’s a very trained individual. Sort of like the shoe repairman, or plumber, he knows his trade well. Without a doubt, he’s an enemy. But an enemy I can respect. He also has manners, Unlike Alfred Nobel, who never delivers his promise.

Akechi and I share similar musical tastes. I have been told through my record store connection that he has been purchasing albums by Don Byas, and I’m not sure if he is doing that to pick up more clues about yours truly, or he has a genuine love for Byas’ music. I did see him once at a Cramps show. Both of us we’re located in the front of the pit, right in front of Lux Interior, and we both got red wine spilled on us. Lux had the bottle in his mouth, and he spat out the bottle as well as the wine. Both of us were wearing white suits, and since we were dressed alike, we also had the same splatter of wine stains as well.

To be terrorized, yet committing terrorism, is my lifestyle now. I will wander the landscape, and yet, I must keep my eyes open for Kogoro Akechi because, like Bob Ford shooting Jesse James, I must be vigilant and on guard at all times.

Music Listened to on July 12, 2016

Such a beautiful record.  I love the fatality of it all.

It is like you are taken to the cliff's edge, and your looking down, and the person behind you, pushes you over. 

Jacno, a total mystery to me as of last year.  I'm thrilled to discover him.  This specific album is superb.  On the surface he's a combination of Serge Gainsbourg and Jacques Dutronc, but I suspect he has his own thing going.  

October 21, 2014

October 21, 2014

Alfred Nobel invented dynamite, and he blew up my world.  I had dreams every night for a whole year of obtaining the Nobel Prize for literature, and then… I didn’t get it.   I brought this up before, but I can’t even begin to tell you how much it has disturbed me.  I planned around my life on obtaining the prize, and the way I see it I should have won.   Day-after-day, I put words on a blank page, for the purpose of not entertaining you dear readers, but to convey to the judges of the Nobel Academy my importance to my field of interest - which of course is (or was) literature.  But now, and since I missed out on the award, I’m thinking of quitting literature and becoming a criminal.  And no, not a literary outlaw type of criminal, but a true one.  I will now devote myself to one purpose and that one purpose will be destruction. If I can’t build up my world, then I’ll tear everyone else’s pathetic dreams down.  If for not anything else, at least we will be placed on the same eye-to-eye level.

As Alfred once said “Home is where I work, and I work everywhere.” I’m needing to get to follow that advice to the “T” and we’re not talking about Texas. Whenever something goes boom in the night, I’m the face behind the t-made disaster, even if you can’t see my beautiful face among the smoke.  “Justice is to be found only in imagination.” Well, baby, I got a big head full of imagination!

The only one is stopping me from doing what I have to do is Kogoro Akechi, who is considered to be the greatest detective in Japan, and perhaps the world.  He is a master of disguises, so I’m not sure who is around me.  He can even do gender switches. One moment you’re in bed with a beautiful woman, and you wake up in the morning with a male cop.  I get the impression that I’m being followed.  Especially when I’m walking around Shinjuku.  I often look at a window display and through the reflection, I see a presence looking at me, and when I turn around, he’s gone. This happens a lot.  I once received a letter from Akechi, mentioning that he was a fan of my writing. Even that, I suspect he is just buttering me up so he can nail me in the end.  I need to ensure the end doesn’t happen.

When I  step in a room, I make sure the keyhole is covered up.  He’s not into technology.  He likes to get his information from the old-fashioned way by looking through windows, keyholes, and occasionally reading one’s lips from a distance.  He’s a very trained individual.  Sort of like the shoe repair man, or plumber, he knows his trade well.  Without a doubt, he’s an enemy.  But an enemy I can totally respect.  He also has manners.  Unlike Alfred Nobel, who never delivers his promise.

Akechi and I share similar musical tastes.  I have been told through my record store connection that he has been purchasing albums by Don Byas, and I’m not sure if he is doing that to pick up more clues about yours truly, or he has a genuine love for Byas’ music.  I did see him once at a Cramps show.  Both of us were located in the front of the pit, right in front of Lux Interior, and we both got red wine spilled on us.  Lux had the bottle in his mouth, and he spitted out the bottle as well as the wine. Both of us were wearing white suits, and since we were dressed a like, we also had the same splatter of wine stains as well.

To be terrorized, yet committing terrorism, is basically my lifestyle now. I will wander the landscape, and yet, I must keep my eyes open for Kogoro Akechi, because like Bob Ford shooting Jesse James, I must be vigilant and on guard at all times.

February 20, 2014

February 20, 2014

People think I am a great reader, but I am actually one of those people who pick up a book and then leave it by the bathtub (I do a lot of reading while taking a bath), especially if its a collection of essays or short stories.  Those books take me the longest to finish, due that each piece in the book is sort of complete narrative or thought.  Right now I am reading Maurice Blanchot’s “Desperate Clarity” which is a collection of literary reviews he did during the Nazi occupation of France.  The most fascinating aspect of the book (so far) is what is not being said, and that silence is so powerful and depressing at the same time.  It got me thinking what is not being said, because we are so used to writing that deals directly with an issue, but now and even then, writing is sometimes about everything except that issue.

Another reason why I just have to stop reading this book is because I dropped it in the bathtub.  When I go get a bath, I use Japanese bath power which gives the water a nice green visual as well as a smell that conveys the forest of one’s imagination.   So as I let that book dry, and myself as well, I go back to bed in the morning to read “The Futurist Manifesto” by F. T. Marinetti, written in 1909 and published in French in the newspaper Le Figaro.  My first thought was ‘how crazy that a newspaper would publish something so uncommon as this manifesto. ' Personally, I’m a huge fan of art related manifestos.  One of my favorite all-time books (and yes, I haven’t finished that one as well) is “Manifesto: A Century of Isms,” edited by Mary Ann Caws, where one can find “The Futurist Manifesto” in its complete romantic glory.

Marinetti strikes me as a man who is in love with the ideal of man-made world where machinery becomes sort of a God, or maybe not an actual ‘figure’ but the imagination of man (and I am using that gender specifically, because the Italian Futurists were not that hot on Feminism) is alone on a spiritual plane.  Some of their basic political ideals are dodgy at best, but one can admire their paintings, poetry, photographs, and I think especially music or sound making.  The whole ‘Art of Noise’ aesthetic is something that is still with us, and whenever there is sound, I think that concept is the foundation of our desire to make some music AKA noise.  John Cage, was too influenced by The Futurists’ approach to sounds, but he is more of a natural process or liking silence as a form of sound as well.  The beautiful photography by Ansel Adams is totally the opposite of Marinetti’s stance against nature, yet it takes a machine, the camera, to photograph what is the ‘ideal’ of nature at its most stunning.

For me personally, the sound of Poison Ivy’s guitar (The Cramps) is the most beautiful sound on the planet.  It has roots in “The Art of Noise” but a much warmer sense of chaos and there is a beauty in her performance that is touching as well as sexual and obsessive.  The obsession to capture either silence, pure noise, or even structured noise (music) is very appealing to me, in fact I also admire the Japanese composer Toru Takemitsu for being on the tightrope between chaos and beautiful order.  Marinetti, I think is essentially looking for order within the spirit of the machine age and politics.  A zen liked peace in a horror landscape.  With that in thought I go back to the bathtub, with a fresh supply of Japanese bath scent of the forest, and continue reading Blanchot’s “Desperate Clarity. ”