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Eric Erlandson, the guitarist who founded Hole with Courtney Love and helped create hit albums like "Pretty on the Inside" and "Live Through This," will publish a book of his reflections on rock 'n' roll, drug abuse and the loss of Cobain called "Letters to Kurt."

Hoboken, the humble and fantastically corrupt city in which I live is trumpeted as the birthplace of Frank Sinatra and baseball. The first birth is indisputable, the second is contentiously debated. There’s little doubt that The Cake Boss is filmed here, as evidenced by the hordes of salivating families who stand in line outside of Carlos Bakery for hours on end, just to get their pictures taken with a cannoli. For the most cynical of hipsters, Hoboken represents the type of gentrification they despise: in other words, the type of gentrification that doesn’t incorporate whimsical facial hair, fixed-gear bikes and artisan pickles. So it really gets their goats when they have to schlepp across the Hudson and mingle with us rubes, because Hoboken also happens to be home to Maxwell’s, one of the most intimate and celebrated music venues in the New York City metropolitan era.

The story of Maxwell’s, named after the old Maxwell House coffee factory that once dotted our shores, is well known to fans of the rock and roll music. In the 80s, an impressive slate of indie bands and up-and-comers graced its tiny stage–Nirvana, REM, The Replacements, Sonic Youth, Husker Du, etc. Local pioneers the Feelies and Yo La Tengo made their names here. Bruce Springsteen filmed his Glory Days video at the bar. Rock star investors saved it when it ran into troubles in 90s. And so on.

These days, the hot tickets are the kids on the cusp of breaking big. For instance, Titus Andronicus, everyone’s favorite anthemic Civil War appropriating rockers, played a few nights ago. There’s something to be said for seeing a band with everything to prove playing a tiny room that holds a couple hundred folks at best. I tend to miss these shows because my ear isn’t to the wall anymore. However, I do pop into Maxwell’s for some of the nostalgia acts that swing through regularly. Last week I caught a Lemonheads show, as I’m wont to do.

Most people know the Lemonheads from their early 90s cover of Mrs. Robinson (which they’ve basically disowned) and their alt-rock hit Into Your Arms. The bouncy, neo-hippieish videos for both begot unfair comparisons to bands like the Gin Blossoms and lead singer Evan Dando’s good looks made most think the band was more marketing than substance, an accusation echoed by the kids from Boston who hated preferred the Lemonheads scuzzy (and, frankly, undistinguished) punk adolescence and hated the addition of Blake Baby of Juliana Hatfield. It’s a shame really, because Dando, essentially the only real member of the Lemonheads since the early 90s, is a warm-voiced singer and a born songwriter who crafts hooks and melody better than 99.99% of his peers.

And he’s also a bit of a prick. I’ve seen him walk

...or "Whose woods these are, I think I know."

While you wait (not that you are, of course) for a new post, sharing a link to an article in Sunday's New York Times in re: book tours on blogs as a promotional tool for authors. (I know. The New York Times is supposed to report something we don't already know about.

It is always good news, however, to see traditional media peeking in the windows of the online world and giving credence to something we've long known: the internet is flipping cool. We're just not bears in the woods anymore. We are the forests-- and the trees.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost, STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING (and, I suspect, if he could, Frost would be stopping by a few blogs as well)

.. and because I am compelled to make lemonade out of a lemon Live Journal entry, here's Frost reciting his classic poem. Okay. Now admit it. YouTube is truly the 8th World Wonder. ;>

and yes, I'm in the passenger seat.



"These two lanes will take us anywhere..."
Where I'm Coming From, what it feels like to leave the city behind and "stumble" towards the outskirts of town. Driving out of New York, driving home and into the arms of Long Island, kicking off my shoes and letting go...

My very first YouTube upload.


Pinch me. I feel as if I discovered electricity.
I YouTubed myself and.. it worked.
"Mr. Watson! Come here!"

It's Newbery/Caldecott announcement morning. Life's about to change for a few of you out there. I suspect you're not sleeping either. ;>



p.s. January 14th. Happy Birthday to my cousin David... wherever you are

Seriously.

He sets up a pose with a jovial group of African-American teens. Trying to be hip, he asks: "Who let the dogs out? Hoot Hoot."

I know. I KNOW. Someone open the window to get the stench of racism out of here.

At the 2:33 mark, he asks a BABY "What's HAPPENING?" and then talks about the baby's "BLING BLING." When he calls the little baby "Michael Jordan," I had to check my calendar to make sure it was 2008 and not circa 1863, somewhere on a southern plantation.

Yo, Mitt! You've got street cred in the hood now!

G-d help us. :{