The American Mastodon is no proselytizer. However, there are times when the animal feels compelled to share with others the books, music, and films that he stumbles upon and, after having stumbled, erects himself, brushes the dust from his jacket, peruses their contents, and discovers it is an enjoyable read/listen/watch.
Last week the AM was lucky to catch both the Walkmen concert on Thursday night and, on Saturday night, a Joanna Newsom/Sufjan Stevens double bill. Though the bands' performances were all quite enjoyable, they were nonetheless tainted by the small fact that they occurred in Los Angeles, where the 20-30 crowd has conspired to allow no joy or enthusiasm to seep into public performance spaces. Does everyone really think they could do better? Better than the Walkmen? Excuse me? Fucking wankers. At least in Dayton, Ohio, no one has any pretensions of being the next Strokes. They're perfectly happy drinking Robotussin in the parking lot and smoking pot in the bathroom. Ahh, Dayton.
To finish off the weekend, the AM watched an enjoyably obtuse Altman film last night, "3 Women". The American Mastodon laments the fact that movies like this aren't made nowadays. He'd like to himself, someday.
Finally, there's this little bit of hilarity, straight from the pages of Salon, about a woman who can't deal with the fact that her therapist is a fan of Bruce Springsteen:
What is it about Bruce that bothers you so? Is it his failure to address the postmodern condition, his reliance on linear song form? Is it all those beefcake butt shots and that precious Telecaster that seem to say that Foucault and Derrida never really existed, and even if they did exist he could blow them away in a blast of burned rubber on hot asphalt? Is it those short muscle sleeves and taut biceps evocative of smart-mouthed grease monkeys in small-town pool halls? Is it that weathered face that appears never to have truly doubted itself even in deepest reflection -- the face that on "Darkness on the Edge of Town" and "The River" seemed to be wearing Al Pacino's face like a mask?...
...He probably shouldn't have mentioned Bruce Springsteen. But he did. Next time you get together, tell him how you had a crisis of faith because of his mention of Bruce. Tell him you wrote me a letter and all that. Try to find out what this Bruce thing is really all about.
And then, just for fun, ask him what he thought of "Nebraska."