I still haven't found my blogging muse to return, but...

An underrated song by an underrated innovator. I am learning this song on my ukulele, so you will be in trouble once I do!

I'm Bringing Sexy Back, old school style, just in time for summer!

"You Down With OPB (Ocean Pacific Brand)?" "Yeah, you know me!" There I was, pacing the aisles of Wal-Mart, looking for something to fill the void in my life, when I chanced upon the discovery of the re-release of a clothing line near and dear to the hearts of those of us who came of age in the early eighties. Yes, I'm talking about the venerable OP clothing line, sold exclusively now at the Mart.

Gone are the days when we would have given our front teeth just for the opportunity to own an OP shirt. True, perhaps we placed too much value on material things when we were in middle school. And, probably, our sexuality as well, as I remember worrying profusely that a friend of mine and I wore similar blue OP shirts to middle school one day, only to be called "fags" by a bunch of cooler people who now probably work at Wal-mart. So, confident now in both myself, my sexual orientation, and the world in which I live, I hurl down the gauntlet of fashion and proclaim this summer not only the Summer of Mike but the Summer of Eighties Inspired Beach Wear! Who's with me?

A word on makeup for men...

Gee, I wish I were in a situation that I could wear makeup everyday. Not like being a drag queen, but makeup like that of rock stars in the seventies. Just think about it - coming to get my next advisee in the Advising Office with King Diamond-esque makeup on. I would want to be advised by me! That is one of my complaints about history - no theatricality! We need makeup, otherworldliness, to get our message to the people! Like Bowie said in "Diamond Dogs," "This ain't rock and roll...this is GENOCIDE!" I need to cut back on the caffeine, I think...

Of all the things to see when you are sick...

Those of you that know me know of my like for the Flaming Lips. I have seen them in concert, which were some of the most amazing musical experiences I've ever had. I have nearly all of their recorded output, which seems to have been getting better year after year. I have been praising them for quite some time, with good reason.

But, their latest album was not so great, mainly as it seemed to be a retread of many of the ideas from the album before. And, very peculiarly, I have been noticing the Lips' music accompanying different commercials. A lot of them. As I lay on my sofa, troubling deaf heaven with my bootless cries and cursing my intestinal fate, I saw a commercial for Kraft Salad Dressing that had Flaming Lips' music as its soundtrack. I thought it was a fever dream. But, I saw it again today and am saddened.

I realize that their music is their's to do with as they wish. If they want to shill for salad dressing, then they should should shill for salad dressing - I would rather hear them than yet another commercial with Katrina and the Waves "I'm Walking on Sunshine," after all. But, there is just something disconcerting about how music so quickly departs from being sublime to being subservient to the capitalist juggernaut. I'm still going to listen to the Flaming Lips, to be sure, but this whole episode has given me pause. What is next? The Sex Pistols' "Pretty Vacant" used for a Tampax commercial?

Variegated Brainstem - Year Two, Day One, Hour Ten!

What a day it is today! The birds are singing, the squirrels are considering the current economic situation. Mothers pause to look lovingly into the faces of their babies, and former enemies throw down their machetes and axes to finally embrace in peace. We here at the Veeb are buoyed by the spirit of this day, and anxious about the dual goals of this Friday: celebrating our blog's anniversary and taking our Spam Vindaloo to the Arts and Sciences' Spam Cookoff. Although our initial excitement about our recipe was shared by all, last night's blind taste test revealed that among the things that the good Lord never intended was for Spam to be marinaded - Spam's density as a meat prevents its ready access to marinading forces. As a result, we are not so sure about our dish's success. Even served in one of television art teacher Dan Mihuta's clay bowl creations will probably not help...

But, in addition to the cookin', there is the rockin'!

Today is the first day of the rest of the fiscal blogging year that is the Variegated Brainstem!

Today is the day that one year ago the future of the world was set into motion!

Today is the day that one year ago a iron gauntlet was hurled into the face of humanity!

Today is the day that one year ago people began to realize again that MUSIC IS REVOLUTION!

Today is the day that one year ago a humble graduate student with nothing better to do took considerable time from his studies to bore the world with his acid casualty observations!

Ladies and Gentlemen, it is our extreme pleasure to welcome you to:

VARIEGATED BRAINSTEM, YEAR TWO: THE RECKONING
Enjoy!

1970s Soft Rock - why the mundane can be frightening...

Having recently admitted my love and secret shame of MOR seventies soft rock, I have been, as I often do, hyper-looking at and listening to videos and songs of this genre. I must be OCD when it comes to music, because I get fixated on something like "sunshine pop" and then, for 3 or 4 weeks, can do nothing but download and listen to this type of music. And, as before, my new obsession has become seventies soft rock, and I have been sucking this stuff down like an opium addict. HOWEVER, this video by the band Exile has kinda creeped and freaked me out.

I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the disembodied lips on the wall and on the floor. Maybe it's the lead singer's rough androgyny that makes him/her look like a man, then a woman, then a man in such a way that makes me wonder if he is a demonic entity - the dance gyrations don't help. Maybe it is the singluar theme of the lyrics, which proclaim that the only focus of the protagonist will be to get his baby and kiss her all over, all over, all over, again and again - not that I am against kissing or kissing all over, for that matter, but the band's singleminded focus on this particular activity make me wonder if there might be tentacles and spinal fluid sucking involved. Maybe it is the fact that the band is, in my opinion, WAY to into their music, as if they are heralding a new age of utopian revolution or that their music rocks in a similar way as, say, the Ramones. Maybe I'm just overanalyzing it, but you have to admit that they don't make bands like this anymore, which might be a good or a bad thing depending on how you look at it. Either way, enjoy!