6.10.2008

"Lightning Fingers" Caffrey

Recently I've been watching my fair share of YouTube videos, and I've come across a phenomena that you may find interesting. There are a lot of guitar players out there that want to show off their chops. However, they are not quite ready to show their faces. Case in point, Matt "Lightning Fingers" Caffrey. Lightning Fingers is one of my newest Twisted Friends. He is a huge fan of Tool, South Park and profanity. He was the first to show me Tourette's Guy and My New Haircut on YouTube and I haven't turned back. All in all, he's good people. But when he showed me his video, I had to ask, "Why no face? Does Lightning Fingers make rock faces the likes too awesome for the world to gaze upon?" I guess we'll never know. Enjoy!

P.S. There is a Part 2.

posted by Jim at 6:28 AM | Comments (0)

6.04.2008

The Good News and...

I know I've been neglecting Twistedjim.com lately. But there's a good reason. I swear. I've been working really hard on (ha, I said 'hard on') The Last Alien. Unfortunately, that's the bad news... which you are getting first. The Last Alien has a very slight chance of being released this year. I know, I promised. But there's something wrong with it. The characters have all gotten lazy and have decided not to tell the story. Really, blame Casper Edwards, the bastards.

I know some of you are saying The Last Alien doesn't really exist. Right, Dave? But it does. I promise you this is not like the girlfriend I had in high school from Utah. Alien is a real thing and you will have it in your hands as soon as I get my shit together.

Wait... WAIT! There is good news. There will be at least one, and most likely two Jim Dayton books this year. I have been working on a project with Tyson for the better part of a year and it is almost finished. I could say more, but that would spoil the surprise. The other book is one that I announced nearly three years ago. That's right, Bar Codes and Bloodstains may be released as early as August 1.

posted by Jim at 12:24 AM | Comments (0)

5.20.2008

Sounds Like a F*#$%ing Sore Throat, Bob

After seeing Radiohead last Wednesday and The Cure last night, I can openly admit I'm old. Where Radiohead was a good mix of 18-50 year-olds, The Cure was 35+ with kids. It's funny and sad to compare how five 35-40 year-old men enjoy a concert. One brings his daughter and embarrasses the hell out of her by pumping his fist and dancing during Hot, Hot, Hot. The second brings his kids and explains that "this music changed my life as a teenager" and "what you're smelling is marijuana." The third leaves the kids at home and wears the old goth clothes that don't quite fit like they did back in high school. The fourth throws up on his twenty year-old date after smoking pot for the first time in fifteen years. And the fifth wears the same old black Dickies work shirt (or t-shirt) that he wears to every concert with the hope that he hasn't gotten too old to fade into the background amongst the younger concert-goers (this last one is me, if you couldn't guess).

The Cure: Starlight Theater 5/19/08
The Cure is Twisted Wife's absolute favorite band. If her iPod could only play one band, it would be The Cure. I could tell a little part of her died when 311 covered Lovesong. When the band threatened to make Bloodflowers their final album, I thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown. I would bet that she can name every member of the band since 1978. She is a superfan. So, going to The Cure concert with her is weird. It's like going to a sporting event with the guy who wears face paint. You can bet she will sing every song and give dirty looks to those around her that try to talk on their cell phones over the music. So, it was even more strange when TW agreed to four of our friends joining us for the show. Not just any friends, mind you, but former Twistedjim.com contributors, Tyson and Scott, and their wives. Sure, Tyson's wife is a fan from back in the day and Scott's wife likes to go to concerts, although she prefers Phil Collins (Sorry, Stephie). Honestly, I thought this might hinder TW's enjoyment of the show. Turns out, I didn't know TW as well as I thought.

With six of us going to the show, there were driving arrangements to be made. TW and I ended up driving Tyson and his wife while Scott and his lady met us at the show. Before anyone could go, we had to drop off Scott's tickets. Of course, I did this all wrong. I took the tickets to the door. And, like a drug deal, I handed Scott the tickets and he handed me some money. A quick, "see you at the show" was all we needed. By the time I got back to the car, TW needed information. Since I didn't get any, she had to go up to the door, which led to ten minutes of talking between TW and Scott's wife. Yep, it was awesome, and so much more efficient than Scott and mine's method.

Fortunately, we got to the show just in time to talk to all the people we haven't seen in years long enough to completely miss the opener. That's right, I can't even tell you their name, which is probably better for them, really. We talked just long enough to almost miss The Cure's first song, but not long enough to miss getting another round of $7.00 beers. One of the people we ran into let us know that Robert Smith had a cold or something that he caught in Chicago and was going to sound terrible. I looked at TW. Thankfully, she shrugged and said, "who cares." What? Who cares? This was my first inkling that TW had an evil twin. I kept looking at her hoping I would notice the one difference between her and the real TW. I settled on the fact that maybe the concession stand lady slipped something in TW's beer and headed off to our seats. If nothing else, this would put her in a good mood for the show and we could discuss what she did with my real wife on our way home.

The first song ended as we got to our seats, and Robert Smith mumbled something followed by his first of fifty apologies for his voice for the evening. I couldn't really tell anything was wrong until they finally played a song I knew. That song was Lovesong. And, although it was played correctly unlike the 311 version, the lyrics sounded like shit. I knew I should have felt some compassion, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I was disappointed. I'd seen The Cure before and expected more. Plus, I was paying to see someone do their job halfway, which pisses me off. It's like going to a show where the lead singer holds the mic out to the crowd expecting them to sing the songs for him. It was crap. I will stop right now and say that TW and I saw two completely different shows. She saw her favorite band playing their hearts out through adversity. I saw a great band playing a mediocre show. However, I know I am in the minority on this point of view.

The good news is that a mediocre show for The Cure is still head and shoulders above most band's best shows. I enjoyed watching them play extended solos, cut verses and apologize at every turn for the problem. It made Robert Smith, a god to some of the people in the audience, very human. And for that I will give them an extra Rock Fingers. But I won't completely let them off the hook. And although TW had a great time seeing her favorite band, I'm the one handing out the reviews and I couldn't make this show measure up to The Cure I've seen in the past. Maybe they were just wearing their same old black shirts and hoping that they haven't gotten too old to fade into the background of their careers.

posted by Jim at 7:34 AM | Comments (2)

5.17.2008

C'mon... C'mon... You and Your Cronies

I absolutely love how Thom Yorke dances. I think it is some crazy variation of The Running Man mixed with Seinfeld's Elaine dance. In other words, it looks like a five year-old who has just developed a sense of rythm. I asked Twisted Wife if she would be embarrassed if I picked up some of Thom's moves and pulled them out at the next wedding we go to. Fortunately or unfortunately, my "Thom Yorke" will not be seen this wedding season.

Radiohead: The Verizon Wireless Amphitheater 5/14/08
Until Wednesday, I had never seen Radiohead live. You would think that being a fan of their music would force me to go to one of their concerts. No, instead I decided to wait until they were not coming to Kansas City so I could drive eight hours round-trip to see them. It was a bonus to pay nearly $4.00 a gallon for the gas and an extra $60 for a shitty hotel room. Truth is, I was waiting for their genius to age just right before I stood 200 yards away on a muddy hillside barely able to see that there were actual people on the stage. In other words, I'm a complete idiot... idiot like a fox! Besides the show, this was a chance for TW and I to spend two days away from the Twisted Kids. And boy did we need it! The stress level in the car went from 100% to 0% in under three seconds after leaving the wee ones with Twisted Mother In-Law. Granted, it went from 0% to 100% in under two seconds 40 miles outside of the city. But in between, we had a great road trip.

With this being show #4 in our Twisted Summer of Shows series, we have gotten used to parking a half mile away from the venue, pot smokers, neo-hippies, $40 t-shirts and the assholes that think the band came to play background music for their conversations. Oh, and let us not forget, the one drunk-ass that screams the band's biggest hit before every song knowing damn well that they will play it during the encore. I love that guy! ("CREEP! CREEP!" ahh, the memories). Regardless of all the crap we went through to see this show, it was amazing. The highlight for me being the band's unnerving rendition of You and Whose Army? The camera mounted on the piano that Thom Yorke used to sing to the audience via the video backdrop gave the song a very eerie feel, his lazy eye and disheveled appearance making the challenges in the song even more adversarial. I can only relate it to a drunk homeless man that really, REALLY wants you to give him a dollar for "food."

Going in, I didn't know what to expect from this show. I kept wondering if Radiohead was one of those bands that plays the hits with a few of the new songs added in for flavor or would they stick to the newer material because they were tired of kissing the ass of the people that only came to hear Creep. I was pleasantly surprised to find out they were the latter. If I wanted to hear Creep, I should have seen them in 1992. All in all, I'm glad I've finally seen Radiohead. They are one of the greatest bands of my time, and now I can check them off the list of Bands I Want to See Before I Die.

Going back to the crowd for a moment, there were A LOT of KC people who made the trip to St. Louis for this show. One of which happened to be right in front of TW and I. She was wearing what I kindly refer to as a tablecloth dress. She had multiple skull and crossbones tattoos and a Betty Page haircut. She was carrying a typical indie-rock boyfriend that is, undoubtedly, in a band that plays some sort of "fusion" (whether it's funk-metal or blues-rap or art-funk-blues-metal-soul is immaterial). I didn't know her, but she turned up two days later at the DMV when TW and I were renewing our car tags, she had number 599 and we had 600. Wait, she was in front of us at the concert, she was number 599 at the DMV... crap! I think we're stalking her.

posted by Jim at 11:18 AM | Comments (0)

5.07.2008

So Close to Seeing a Summer Blockbuster

Okay, so Iron Man is more of a Spring blockbuster. Nonetheless, I was giddy when Twisted Daughter asked if we could go see it last Sunday. I thought, "Holy crap! I'm going to get to see a movie only days after it opens." This never happens, thus Extreme Movie Night Reviews was born. So, instead of having to write a review after viewing 30 minutes of the DVD because it is late for return, I was going to review one of the hottest movies so far this year.

Iron Man Review
As some of you may know, I am a nerd. Not just any type of nerd, but a Comic Book Dork. I know, I know. It's hard to believe that I have spent an outrageous amount of time and money to read about the ultimate struggle between men in tights, masked villains with overactive Napoleon complexes and scantily clad, well-endowed bimbos. And out of the stacks and stacks of books one hero stood above all the others... Iron Man. I can't remember a time when I've ever said any superhero but Iron Man was my favorite. Anyone? Sure, I like Batman because he's dark and Superman because he's strong. But Iron Man is everything I need in a superhero. Tony Stark is a wealthy industrialist, which, no matter how you slice it, makes him a total dick. He didn't inherit his wealth like that pussy Bruce Wayne. Nope, he was a genius inventor who made a shit-ton of money by, most likely, exploiting his workers and building weapons. Thus, Iron Man is born, a crime fighting suit worn by a philandering douche. He even had that swinger moustache. Yes, Tony Stark is the perfect candidate for superhero-dom. Even now, Stan Lee's brilliance makes me smile.

Needless to say, I was amped to go see this movie and share my love of Iron Man with Twisted Daughter who has adopted many of my loves in her short life. Just like Asia's Heat of the Moment, I was sure TD would pick up on the magnitude of this amazing tidbit of pop culture. So, I tossed her in the car and drove to the AMC 30-Plex in Olathe for the matinée. During the drive, she kept making gunshot, explosion and jet noises in anticipation of seeing my hero zip across the screen and blow up as much shit as possible all in the name of justice. I should have been telling her it was bad to blow people up, but instead I cheered her on with loud shouts of "Are you READY!" To which she would scream, "YES! IRON MAN!" immediately followed by another rash of explosion noises. It was awesome.

We were about five minutes late when we pulled into the parking lot. But with previews, I figured we had another ten minutes before the movie started. So, we got tickets, popcorn and drinks as quickly as possible and ran to theater #7. The place was packed with kids and parents laughing and shouting through the first preview for Mike Meyer's upcoming movie, The Love Guru. TD and I found two seats on the aisle near the front which had a terribly distorted view of the screen, but I didn't care. This was going to be fun and I wasn't going to let awful seats spoil it. The second trailer was for The Dark Knight. TD quickly turned her head and started slurping her lemonade soas not to see Heath Ledger's Joker. Granted, it is pretty creepy. Before the third preview, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, could get rolling, TD leaned over and said, "I need to go to the potty." She had just gone at home, but I jumped out of my seat and shuffled her to the restroom.

Once she had exhausted her fake peeing, we started back to the theater. As soon as I pulled open the door, TD turned and said, "No, Daddy, I don't want to see Iron Man."

I was screaming in my head, but my heart wouldn't let me scream at TD. I turned and knelt down to be at her level and asked why. No answer. I asked if the Batman preview had scared her. No answer. I told her that we needed to go back into the theater or we were going to miss the movie.

"I DON'T WANT TO SEE IRON MAN! AAAAHHHH!" The high-pitched screaming echoed through the theater, caused dogs to bark in the distance and set off all the car alarms in the parking lot. It even got the twenty-something manager to get off his ass and come down to the door of theater #7.

"Sir, is there a problem?"

"No, she's just a little scared from the Batman trailer."

The manager smiled, "that one's awesome."

I asked TD again if we could go back into the theater for the movie. Quickly a second blast of high-pitched wailing that sounded like "No" rippled through the building. In the back of my head, I could see myself picking her up and trying Tom-and-Jerry-style to force her through the door. But I knew she would grab the door frame, go boneless or scream until I had no more fight in me. I was screwed. At this realization, I bent down to TD and in my most fatherly voice I said, "I'm very disappointed." She looked at the ground and acted as if she knew what disappointed meant.

As we walked out of the theater, me boiling and TD no longer scared, she looked at me and said, "Iron Man is a good movie for people who don't get scared during the previews." A most fitting review.

posted by Jim at 10:50 PM | Comments (0)

5.05.2008

Real Good Marketing: Really... I'm Not Obsessed

NOTE: This is a new recurring segment for twistedjim.com. Yes, I am actually going to start talking about the business I am in. Sorry, but it's time.

For the past year, when clients and colleagues ask what are my favorite brands or who has marketed their product better than anyone else, I point the finger at two entities. Can you guess? I'm sure some of you would say Apple because of my iPod fetish. Wrong! Maybe Starbucks because that's what everyone says. Nope. The two best brands have been [adult swim] and Nine Inch Nails.

With the whole Boston-Terrorist Marketing Plan, Metalocalypse and Candy Mountain Massacre, [adult swim] has taken cartoons to a whole new universe. These guys aren't just raising the bar, their holding it over everyone's heads and making them jump for it. Only to jerk it away when anyone gets close.

Trent Reznor has shown everyone in the music business that allowing people to remix your music in GarageBand, playing cryptic on and offline games with your fans and giving away your latest album is the secret to success.

These are just two companies that are doing it right in my opinion. They have realized that their fans are the absolute of their success and embraced them with both arms. By giving up the tight control of their industries, they have become the new model for business in the 21st century. Everyone else get in line.

posted by Jim at 10:17 PM | Comments (0)

4.30.2008

The Jack White Show... Sorry, That's The White Stripes

Last night I did what I said I would never do again... I went back to The Uptown Theater. I know it's been less than a month, back off! I realized after I bought my tickets to The Raconteurs that I was going back to the band slaughterhouse. I knew the sound was going to suck, and I went into the show being heartbroken because I was really looking forward to seeing this band.

The Raconteurs: The Uptown Theater 4/29/08
This show should have been the jewel in Twisted Wife's crown. For those of you that don't know the story, TW is always recommending bands to me. 9 times out of 10, I am lukewarm on her referrals, 50% of the time the bands simply suck. The White Stripes were no different. Despite the critical acclaim, I just couldn't bring myself to drink the Kool-Aid. I firmly believed this was an over-hyped band during a time when the music industry was grasping for any hope of survival in the rock genre. This was until one summer night at Starlight Theater when TW tricked me into attending The White Stripes show (she's pissed right now that I used the word "tricked"). Needless to say, I was sold after the first song. Jack White deserves the praise. He is an incredible musician. So, TW can honestly say that she turned me on to The White Stripes and Jack White.

Unfortunately, TW wasn't really excited about the show. Due to the lack of radio-play for The Raconteurs, she felt she didn't know any of their songs. And if TW can't sing along... she's not a very fun concert date (now she's even more pissed, that's two). Begrudgingly, she resigned herself to the idea that she was going to sit and watch me enjoy a band that I liked and she was lukewarm on.

NOTE: I'm going to start into the review here and I am not going to talk about the opening band, Birds of Avalon. Reason being, I didn't like them. They weren't bad enough to make fun of and they weren't good enough for me to review. Their music was fine... for someone else.

For this show, TW and I decided to mix it up. Instead of standing on the floor, we decided to relax a bit and find some seats in the balcony. I liked this arrangement, because, unlike the 19 year-old girls in the front row, I had no notions that Jack White was going to pull me up on stage a la Dancing in the Dark and dance with me. And it's a good thing. I'm a shitty dancer. One thing the balcony at The Uptown does afford concert-goers is enhanced crappy sound. There is absolutely no definition in the lower registers in this building. If you are a bass player at The Uptown, walk on stage, turn on your amp, slap the strings and take the night off. There is just a low humming in place of bass lines. It's awesome!

Fortunately for me (I'm over 30 and have a job), the band started playing early. I fully expected this to be similar to a White Stripes... er, The Jack White Show. Was I ever wrong. The Raconteurs are not a supergroup. They seem to leave the egos behind and play. And have fun doing it. You may be saying to yourself, "Isn't that what bands are supposed to do?" Yes, but more often than not, they don't. Especially, when one member of the band gets all the attention. It's a good thing the non-Jack White members of The Raconteurs (Brendan Benson, Patrick Keeler and Jack Lawrence) are all amazing musicians in their own right. Even when Jack starts to dominate the show, the others reel him back in to being nothing more than a lead guitarist and singer. It was very fun to watch the yo-yoing as Jack was constantly reminded that the four other people on stage were not Meg White. It's not very often I get to see five extremely talented musicians play for fun... or, at least act like that's what they're doing. It was inspiring.

Generally, I judge a show by how the band sounds and if they leave me with a renewed feeling of excitement about their music. This time the renewed feeling of excitement for songs like Blue Veins, Rich Kid Blues, You Don't Understand Me and Store Bought Bones far outweighed the sub-par sound of The Uptown Theater.

And after the show was over, I could see I'd returned the favor to TW.

posted by Jim at 7:12 AM | Comments (0)

4.23.2008

Conversations with a Four Year-Old: Bluetooth Headsets

I should have seen this one coming.

TD: Daddy what does that man have in his ear?
Me: It's a Bluetooth headset.
TD: He looks funny.
Me: That's not a nice thing to say. Don't stare.
TD: Why does he have a Bluetooth headset.
Me: Because he's talking on the phone.
TD: What? That's not a phone!
Me: Well, he's not talking to himself.
TD: How do you know?
Me: I'm sure he's a very important man making a very important call.
TD: How do you know?
Me: Because nobody wants to have some stupid piece of plastic hanging out of their ear unless they have to.
TD: Then why does that lady and that kid and that guy have Bluetooth headsets? Are they important too? Aren't you important, Daddy?
Me: No, I'm just naturally funny looking.

posted by Jim at 6:15 PM | Comments (0)

4.08.2008

Kansas = Disrespect

I'll admit, I'm a bandwagon sports fan. I like to watch sports every now and again, but only when the story is good. You know, like The Natural or Hoosiers. I root for the underdog. I believe in Cinderella teams. I want my team to win. I can't stand powerhouse dynasties in any sport. I will turn off the TV when the Yankees take the field, the Patriots snap the ball or Tiger picks up a club, unless they are about to break a record. I have a soft spot for watching history in the making. Generally, my March Madness subsides pretty quickly. But this year was my year. I watched Davidson knock off team after team until they met up with the team I just can't force myself to root against.

I hold a degree from the University of Kansas, now known nationwide as the NCAA Mens Basketball National Champions. And although I say that with a slight sense of pride, it doesn't make my degree any more valuable. And as I read the stories today, I realize last night's victory in the national limelight doesn't get Kansas any more respect. Instead of focusing on a phenomenal game, writers are not calling it a win for Kansas but instead a loss for Memphis. They melted down. It was their game to lose. Wah, wah, wah. That's okay, though. I've gotten used to sports writers being morons... oh, and living in Kansas.

Yes, Kansas livin' comes with many perks. The first of which is people automatically thinking you are a farmer and have livestock in and around your homestead. Or that my idea of a mansion is a double-wide trailer. Or, possibly my favorite, that I somehow know Dorothy and Toto. Although these are all completely true. I also understand how you town folk live (that's right, I said "town folk"). Y'all got them tiny million dollar closets you live in that need fifteen locks to protect you from all the terrorists and criminals, and you're rude to one another, and you all do drugs and drink martinis at clubs that you wait three hours and pay $1,000 to get into, and you like to say, "That's hot," or "fierce," or "fab."

See, now isn't that almost as stupid as thinking I know Dorothy or Toto?

posted by Jim at 11:01 PM | Comments (0)

4.03.2008

You Got No Fear of the Uptown Theater...

That's why it will not survive! Once again, I attend a concert at the Uptown Theater in downtown Kansas City. And, once again, the sound sucks. I'd rather see the best band in the world mixed by a blind chimp in a closet than go to a show at the Uptown ever again. Every sound man that visits mistakes this small theater for an arena and completely screws the great bands that play there. Last night the victim was Spoon. Beyond their technical problems onstage, their sound man turned them into a washed-out sonic nightmare of feedback, echo, hiss and static. I know how bad the sound at the Uptown can be. I've actually played there. My instinct says that Larry Sells, Uptown owner, decided to install a huge sound system in his small theater. Why do it right when you can do it big, right? After all, the real money in owning a historic building comes from renting it out for office parties, receptions and seminars... not concerts. Yet, good bands still play the Uptown, and I have been forced to go there. But after last night, no more!

Spoon: The Uptown Theater 4/2/08
I can honestly say that I was not an early fan of Spoon. Only three of their albums, Girls Can Tell, Gimme Fiction and their latest Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, have left me anything more than lukewarm. For the longest time, Twisted Wife would say, "You want to go see Spoon? They're in Lawrence tonight." Of course, this question would come right after I was all comfortable on the couch watching The Bachelor. And we all know how Twisted Jim loves hisself some Bachelor!

Last night, I finally gave into the urge to go see Britt Daniel and company. If you know nothing about Spoon, know this. They are very good songwriters, and, thankfully, that cuts it for this band. They don't come out and put on a show, and they were a little bit off as musicians last night. I'll cut them a little bit of slack since they were playing at the Uptown (see above) and they were experiencing some technical difficulties. But all in all, this seemed like a tour warm-up show... not the "victory lap" it was billed as.

Enough of the bad, let's talk about the good. Comedian Greg Behrendt used to do a bit about rock shows for people over 30. His idea was that musicians should put on two shows at every venue. One for those under 30 that started at 9:00, has three opening bands and ends well after midnight. The other show would be for those of us over 30. It would start at 7:00, the headliner would come out and play their hits and everyone would be home before 10:00. The show last night was almost a perfect mixture, two mediocre opening bands, half the hits and I was home by 11:00. So close, but just short of perfect.

As for the songs, they played great renditions of The Underdog (sans horns), I Summon You, You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb, I Turn My Camera On, Lines in the Suit and The Fitted Shirt. They left out a few of my favorites like Believing is Art and The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine but I haven't been to a show yet where the band played everything I wanted to hear. After sleeping on it, the show was good enough to receive two rock fingers... but I'll throw in the third because hometown hero Rob Pope is now on bass.

posted by Jim at 11:04 PM | Comments (0)