greetings,
earlier this week i had the opportunity to dine at the new skyline chili on brown street with andy of ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS. i selected the standard three-way chili and a mountain dew while andy opted for the three way w/habanero cheese and a dr. pepper.
during dinner i was able to engage andy in a brief dialogue regarding one of his more recent songs. i am referring to that rip-snortin' boot-stompin' back of the hand butt-thwackin' less than 2 minute quickie that we *already* know and love as, "la petite mort."
after our brief conversation, and my subsequent research later in the day, i was able to ascertain with a fairly high level of probability, that this new song is about none other than - the great mortimer snerd (top photo), a petite 36-inch "woody," if you will, who spent his entire life getting handjobs in the lap of edgar bergen (lower photo, to the left of snerd).
for an introduction into the man that we *now* know as mortimer "la petite mort" snerd, please take a mere two minutes out of your busy day to view this brief yet entertaining snippet:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAO7ucHerWc
if your appetite for "all things snerd" has not been sated but merely whetted by this video, and you feel an unabated hankering and hungering for more, then please by all means consult your local library - that trough of knowledge where you are always welcome to, in the words of another dayton songwriter whose name escapes me at the moment: "pin back your ears and feed."
during a recent e-mail exchange with suzanne gourlie, a book buyer at the dayton metro library, i was able to place a patron request for the book "ventriloquism for dummies." i believe that this is the latest title in the popular and very familiar black and yellow "for dummies" book series. i am quite certain that it will contain additional information on both messrs. snerd and bergen.
however, please keep in mind that my interpretation of the new ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS song "la petite mort" could be all wrong.
it may in fact just be about drinkin' beer and doin' french chicks.
edgar bergen: "is your mother living yet?"
mortimer snerd: "nope . . . not yet"..
. . . . . . . . . . . . (pictured, left to right, a happy fan)
the buddha den, dayton's premier music blog (and alter-ego of kyle melton, music reviewer for the dayton city paper, the gem city's alternative weekly) has just announced their top five local albums of the year.
and the winner is . . .
"As far as we're concerned this was one of the best year's for local releases in a very long time. We heard a lot of music here at The Buddha Den, and here's what we're calling the cream of the crop:
#1 ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS Goodbye Ohio Perhaps the biggest surprise in the Dayton music scene this year was the meteoric rise of Andrew & the Pretty Punchers. We first caught them late in 07, without a bass player, but by mid-year the band found its stride and just took off with it. With their debut hashed out in a matter of days, the disc captures the intensity of the band's live show and frames the songwriting of Andrew Smith perfectly. Sure, it's not an overly-polished gem, but that's why we love it... BUY IT!
[ED NOTE: "nya nya - told you so"]
congratulations to ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS!
holler if you're still looking for a copy of the CD. it is also available at gem city records or on eBay.
merry christmas and a happy new year to everyone!
reporting live from deepest east dayton i remain,
kevin (smith)
-----------------
rounding out the buddha den's top five local albums of the year:
#2 Captain of Industry The Bronze On this the band's third album, Captain of Industry honed their indie-prog into an exceptionally potent brew on The Bronze. Whether dipping into dreamy indie-pop or blasting out labyrinthe-like amalgamations, COI remains one of Dayton's finest.... BUY IT!
#3 Jordan Hull Jordan Hull We could easily ramble on about his age or his similarities to certain singer/songwriters from the 60s, but that would be a complete waste of time. What's important here is that you realize the burgeoning talent that is Jordan Hull and get on board now. With a debut this strong, it's hard to imagine what might be around the corner for Jordan Hull... BUY IT!
#4 My Latex Brain Good Is Dead My Latex Brain have been at this for nearly a decade at this point, and it's respective members have been in the Dayton music for even longer. What's so amazing is how Good Is Dead obliterates any so-called theory about how this is a young man's game. From Hoops' insightful stabs at...well...pretty much the entire Establishment...boiling over top of the incessant grind of drummer Roger Owsley and bassist Chris Corn, this is band at the absolute top of their game... BUY IT!
#5 The Northwest Ordinance State of Ohio These guys are just so Ohio it's almost like a bad joke: four guys from big Ohio cities converge in Dayton, meld their record collections and love of vintage garage and punk, and hey it's The Northwest Ordinance. This is just such a savory slab of guttural rock n' roll goodness that made it's way onto our speakers constantly this year. From their straightforward buzzsaw grind to their unsettling lurch, if this one doesn't make you jump around in yr house, you have no soul... BUY IT!
more at: http://buddhaden.blogspot.com/
.
And now . . .
PART TWO: "The Day Of The Grapefruit"
As a toddler I always suspected that much of mother's rage and maternal jealousy could be traced back to that deeply-flawed attempt at surreptitiously delegating her diaper duties. I also believed that each time I "reached up" to my big sister, especially when in a clean state of diaperhood, it only enflamed that jealous rage even more - like so much kindling on a fire built from the logs of duplicity. A fire that was to hound me into my later years - specifically, grades one and two.
But it wasn't just me who felt this unchecked wrath. It constantly revealed itself in the general tension at home. not to mention the occasional outright explosion - like the unfortunate incident involving a squirrel; the 4th chewed clothesline of the summer; and then - the sudden barrage of whole florida grapefruit and high-pitched maniacal laughter from the second floor bathroom window.
That's right. Mother, that bellwether of emotion, had melted down again.
More often than not, for safety reasons, the house went into "lock down" mode after one of these occurrences. My big sister would move me and the pen to the backyard while the other siblings would slink away to their rooms, quietly close their doors, and pretend to read . . . anything.
I can remember the day of the grapefruit like it was yesterday. Seeing the forlorn look on my father's face when he returned home from work. Watching him step from the garage, nattily decked out in a suit with very thick, vertical, wooden stripes- no, wait - those are the bars of the pen-
I can remember the day of the grapefruit like it was yesterday. Me *standing* in the pen *above* the very thick, vertical, wooden bars - seeing the forlorn look on my father's face when he returned from work. Watching him step from the garage to begin that long traipse - his own personal Bataan Death March - from the garage to the house where dadhood awaited him. Dragging his feet as usual, and then, on this day, stopping entirely to take in the fallen clothesline, and the carnage of rinds and grapefruit pulp scattered throughout the yard and against the garage door.
And then . . .
My father, the animal lover, seeing . . . the squirrel.
That poor, poor squirrel. Earlier in the day: so full of life, chewing on the clothesline. and now, later in the day - so full of death, not chewing on the clothesline.I can also vividly remember how desperately I wanted to "reach out" to mother after this blow-up, to share my observations with her so as to maybe offer her some relief, or perhaps just a brief respite from her pain and seething anger - or maybe something as simple, yet cleansing, as the catharsis of self-knowledge.
But alas and alack - I could not find the words.
Well, actually, I *could* find the words. I just didn't know how to talk yet.
But the saddest part was to think that mother brought it all on herself, with that hare-brained scheme to transfer my diaper changing needs to my big sister.
Sad. Sad. Sad.
Mother - we hardly knew ye . . .Yet.
FINIS, PART TWO
APPENDIX: GUIDE TO ATTACHED PHOTOS:
Exhibit A: mother apologizes for the squirrel fatality by offering me a kiss - although my right fist remains coiled, cocked, and ready (see detail Exhibit A.1) - still not quite sure what to believe or who to trust at this point.
Exhibit B: father returns from work and offers consolation for my already in progress "grapefruit as weapon/deceased squirrel" trauma. It appears from the photo that I have completed stage one of the healing process - commonly referred to in the toddler trauma literature as the "recoil in horror" or "duck and cover" stage. This behavior typically manifests itself with an overt "ducking and covering" reflex - perhaps under a favorite "blankie," or a couch, or maybe a nearby carpet remnant.
Stage two of post-traumatic toddler stress ("full cranial axis pivoting") typically involves a child's head involuntarily pivoting on its axis (i.e. the shoulders). Although "Exhibit B" is only a photo, the pensive discomfort in my toddleresque visage is still quite noticeable. Clearly my head is still reeling and darting about, although the full 360 degree pivots appear to have ceased. My troubled face tells me that I am still not certain that the savagery has truly ended, or that the coast is in fact, clear .
Exhibit C: father inspects the right side of my head for grapefruit damage.
(Note: "Crunchy In The Pen" (a work in regress) is for Peggy, with love and laughter.)
.
"Crunchy In The Pen" (A Work In Regress): PART ONE
"Take care, Crunchy. I can still see you in that playpen in the kitchen reaching your arms out to me to pick you up when I got home from school. Life was much simpler then, wasn't it?" (Sandy, my big sis)
Actually sis, when I reflect back on those years behind bars, when I was in "the pen," life was just a tad more complex than I think you may have realized.
I faintly remember that mom's ill-conceived scam was supposed to go something like this: while you were at school, she would train me to reach up for you whenever my diaper needed changing by holding up a large photo of you whenever I committed an excretory indiscretion.
Unfortunately (for mom), her diabolical scheme went terribly awry when I naturally took a liking to you and began to reach up for you regardless of my current diaper status and/or contents.
Well, at least that's how I remember it.
FINI, PART ONE
.
The morning after my sister Peggy died, my son Andy stopped by the house to share tears and to talk (well - actually to listen).
Having both been blessed with a healthy dollop of "Smith humor" - "Sugar" (Peggy's name for Andy) and Peggy got along splendidly.
I shared with Andy pretty much what he already knew - that Peggy and I had been much more than sister and brother - we were the best of friends. Peggy and I "had each other's back" decades before that expression even came into existence. as I told someone later in the week "Peggy and I never got the memo on 'sibling rivalry'"
It was slightly bittersweet, but mostly just very sad, to have Peggy confirm this one final time in the letter she left for me:
"I have always felt a special bond w/you that I can't really explain. I can't imagine there was ever a brother loved as much as you, from the time you were little."
Later in the week, while going through some pictures for my earlier blog post (titled "Peggy"), I found three photos from 1954-55 when I was between 6 months and 1-year-old. They are the only family pictures that I have from that time period. With my recent conversation with Andy still fresh in my mind, I was struck by Peggy's "Mama Hawk" body language in each of the three pictures. :-)
Granted, it was just by chance, but in each photo she seems to be watching out for me already, either by glancing in different directions - keeping an eye on the flanks - or by standing hands on hips, the first line of defense, directly in front of Dad and me.
See Andy . . . what did I tell you about your Aunt Peggy "havin' my back" for a long, long time? . :-)
I love you and miss you, sister and friend.
.
I am very proud, and yet somewhat frightened, to announce:
The 1st Annual ANDREW & THE PRETTY PUNCHERS 1/2 Yard Beer Drinking Contest For Charity!
The show will be at South Park Tavern on Saturday, December 13th @10:00.
The excellent Dayton band Hospital Garden will open.
ANDREW AND THE PRETTY PUNCHERS will probably play at about 11:00.
The beer drinking contest, open to anyone, but thankfully very much optional, will be judged on speed of consumption. Specifically, how long it takes each contestant to throw back a 1/2 yard of beer. A half-yard of beer is an 18 inch high glass that contains 32 ounces of "momma's milk" (i. e. beer).
The current record holder at the South Park Tavern is "Rocker," a good friend of the band and all round nice guy. Rocker drank a 1/2 yard of beer in 6 seconds flat. Ever since then chicks can't keep their hands off of him, and being a pipe fitter by trade, this seems to have worked out to everyone's general satisfaction.
The $2.00 cover charge and the beer drinking contest proceeds (uh . . . money, that is) will go to the St. Vincent de Paul charity.
See you on the 13th!
.
