Not for nothing do we call him Big Rock Head... with bonus technical report!

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The lad we sometimes call Big Rock Head (BRH), who has now adopted "Rock Head" as his Official Rock & Roll Stage Name, proved that he deserves this monicker late Friday during a nighttime game of Capture The Flag at a park in Urbana. It is reported that some drinking was involved, not that it's unusual for drinking to be involved in anything that grad students might do on a Friday evening. Much more unusual is the fact that the youth of today were out playing like kids of yesteryear on a weekend night, at a baseball diamond in meatspace, exerting themselves physically.

It seems that BRH, in defending his goal, was pursuing his quarry with a singlemindedness of purpose that led him to become unaware of a chain-link fence installed along the third-base line. The slanted fencepost with which BRH posed for this photo spread this morning brought his sprint to an abrupt halt, skullwise (upper right). The placement of the split could not have been executed any more purposefully by a Hollywood makeup artist. So if the 10 stitches shown above leave a scar as a legacy, then the graphical layout makes a fine style statement in addition to its reeking of masculine essence.

After getting his noggin rattled, and the contents probably lightly concussed, the poor baby was surprised in the dark by what a sweat he had worked up---it was even streaming into his eyes! As we now know, this was actually leakage from his circulatory system, which still dotted the dirt on the dugout floor Saturday morning (center right), along with a fat drop on the left Converse sneaker which he had discovered a bit earlier.

The fencepost is not one of the security-grade jobs you find at industrial and government installations, but it is a steel fencepost after all. Because I am not a trained incident-site investigator, my forensic analysis was necessarily informal. I judged the post to be well-anchored, with indications of some ductility when the cap was pushed back and forth. The slant of the post is significantly more pronounced than the corresponding post at the far end of the first-base line (not shown), and the direction of the lean corresponds well to the vector of the BRH sprint. At the base of the subject post I found well-defined buckling (bottom right). The discolorations above the buckling are ambiguous. They could have been made by a previous impact with the post, such as might occur when scuffed by the deck of a riding lawnmower. However, the marks do not make any obvious sense as an effect of the deformation of the post, either Friday night or at a previous time. Therefore, I judged the markings to be a red herring, forensics-wise.

Finally, if you click on the spread and look closely at the enlargement of the lower-right picture, you may see a few crisp cracks in the parched mud in the lower-right quadrant adjacent to the base of the post. These cracks show up better on the high-resolution images, so you may take my word that they are there. These cracks radiate out from the base of the post opposite of the direction from which BRH impacted it. This is a geological artifact I would expect to see as a result of such an impact.

Big Rock Head is somewhat over 6 ft tall and weighs approximately 200 lb. Having some knowledge of his physical capabilities and the joie de vivre with which he plays, I do not think it is farfetched that he might have struck the post at 15 mph---a sprint that could produce a 4 minute mile, but which need be sustained only for a few moments of alcohol-assisted galumphing to produce the documented effect on the pole.

Therefore, it is concluded that solely with the hardness of his cranium, body mass, and autolocomotion, BRH caused a ductile failure in a steel fence post during a nocturnal session of Capture The Flag. The young gentleman whom he was tracking at the time should feel thankful for the good offices provided by said fence post, bodily-harmwise.

Not exactly a purported image of Jesus in a piece of French toast

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But it's even better! See the outwardly mediocre photo below and try to find the super-awesome subliminal image embedded within it.

Shot at the Cowboy Monkey, Champaign, Ill., Friday evening whilst Big Rock Head was blowing some section work with the Parkland College In-Your-Ear Big Band.

And I will hasten to add that, no, the ugly motherfucker at center left is not your genial host. How could you even think such a thing?!?

Click to enlarge. Taken with an iPhone 4s in available light using its digital zoom capability. The camera in the thing is quite impressive. I'll share some of the landscapes I made over Thanksgiving in western Iowa, on the estate of one of this blog's correspondents.

Blind Justice!

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Here's a snap of the first band up today in the Prairie Crossroads Blues Society battle of the bands at Memphis On Main, Champaign, Illinois. The band is named for Mr. Tim Donaldson, center with Fender Strat; and Roger "The Doctor" Prillaman, left with stacked keys. Tim is the owner of The Blind Man, a Champaign window dressing boutique, and Roger is an Urbana attorney. So: Blind Justice!

Tim and Roger are geezers of approximately RubberCrutch vintage. Tim's longtime aggregation, the No Secrets Band (which I think must have been named after Carly Simon's nipples), broke up a few years ago, and he has been playing with his talented sons and one of my talented sons for almost a year. Roger was a mainstay in Captain Rat and the Blind Rivets, which was probably the leading Champaign-Urbana bar/party band through some of the 1970s and much of the '80s (not sure---didn't get out much back then).

On tubs, in background with head bisected diagonally by Roger's mic boom, is Ben Donaldson, a graduate of Champaign Central High School's nationally renown jazz program. The ultra-handsome gentleman plucking bass strings at the right, also an alum of the Central jazz program, is Dave "Rock Head" C****," who officially adopted that stage name as of today. (The crowd seemed to be tickled by it.) The 20-minute set included one original composition by Big Rock Head entitled "Weathered Man."

Winner of the battle gets to compete in a national battle at Memphis at some point.

Saturday Night Fish Fry [updated]

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Went to buy some cheap detergent
Some emergent nation 
Got my load



"Can't Afford No Shoes" (lyrics here, because it's hard to catch most of them without reading along) was not an evergreen crowd-pleaser in Frank Zappa's live performance repertoire, but I don't understand why. The Recession/Depression economics theme was surely of concern to Zappa's audience from the time this song was released in the mid-70s well past beyond the sunrise in of St. Reagan's Morning in America. (It certainly was to me, as late as 1983!) And the composition was about as straight-ahead of a hard rocker as Zappa ever recorded.

The instrumental arrangement is explosive, as you will hear if you jam in your waxy little earbuds and crank up the volume. The rhythm section is really punchy, and the guitar tones are aggressive. Based on the liner notes in both copies of this album that I possess, it looks like Zappa is playing the slightly unhinged slide/Dobro-sounding solo about halfway through. He usually delegated this sound to Denny Whalley, who was actually playing with him in 1975 (maybe an album-credit oversight?). If there's a harmonica down in the mix on this track, and I can't tell on this low-fi YouTube clip, it is being respirated by one Bloodshot Rollin' Red, known in the personal mythology of all Zappaphiles as Captain Beefheart, the charming avant-garde multimedia artist what I composed a humble eulogy for yesterday.

The vocals are, in my opinion, somewhat marred by the inexplicable self-mocking delivery that seemed to self-sabotage any number of Zappa cuts that had all other necessary elements for a big radio hit. Johnny "Guitar" Watson, one of FZ's musical idols, is credited with vocals on two other cuts of this album, but I'm pretty sure I hear him in a supporting role on this track as well.

I think this song is "low-hanging fruit" for some band to revisit today and hit big with.

Can't Afford No Shoes, Frank Zappa And The Mothers Of Invention (1975, from "One Size Fits All," reissued as RykoDisc RCD10095), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Update: clarifying edits made to the first narrative paragraph in response to commenters. Thanks, commenters!!!

Apropos of nothing

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As captured by Big Rock Head Friday evening through the southwest-facing pane of my bay-style picture window, a hummingbird briefly loitering near a feeder (not visible, stage left). I think it's an impressive shot considering that (1) BRH snapped it using the low-res camera in an iPhone 3G and (2) these shorties dart around like something out of Area 51, on crank. At this point my avian guides are failing me on identification. More research is needed.

Friday Evening Prayer Meeting

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Here's a Beach Boys production by the pensive and melancholy Brian Wilson at the height of his creative powers in 1966, as he was beginning to unravel:



Current references to Brian Wilson liken him to someone's crazy uncle, and I've read quotes attributed to him that seem to verify that. But in 1966, well established as the creative leader of THE pop group that defined, exemplified, and sanctified American youth hedonism for a short time before hippiedom emerged, Wilson was a highly sensitive and troubled soul. There are many accounts of the "battle of the bands" Wilson had with the Beatles across the sea at mid-decade --- not a hostile one --- with each group upping the ante of experimentation in response to a release by the other. This began with Brian's reaction to Rubber Soul, after a period of his own studio and lyrical experimentation. He both complimented the Beatles and tried to even top them in the studio with orchestrations, electronics, and even oddball instrumental voicings such as a boogie-inflected solo the lowest register of an accordion in I Know There's An Answer.

When listening to Pet Sounds as an adult I've always felt there was much more to Wilson's brooding instrumentations and lyrics than merely "youthful angst," as Wikipedia glibly calls it. He was not only haunted by the fleeting nature of love, which songs like Caroline, No deal with directly, but his use of psychedelic drugs seems to have helped to intensify his sense of alienation from much of humanity, including womankind and his bandmates. They lyrics of this song depict a very fragile, if self-centered, young man. The honesty and vulnerability of the lyric and performance, to my ears, raise it far above the maudlin result that this sort of creative outcrying often produces.

But listen to the music. Chances are you've never heard this song before because it never charted and you probably didn't own the album. The Beach Boys had become very uncool in a heartbeat by the end of 1967, being eclipsed by "heavy" acts like Hendrix and the Doors... and of course, The Beatles. By that point Wilson had lost creative and operational control of the group, and in my opinion almost all of the band's good work was now behind it.

If you hear some of the "genetic material" from Good Vibrations floating around in the gorgeous backgrounds of this number, it's because Brian was assembling this album concurrently with the orchestral and studio experiments that finally evolved into his signature trippy surfer "pocket symphony." (I believe that Wikipedia is incorrect, at least partially, about the sequence of Pet Sounds and Good Vibrations because there are dated rehearsal recordings that contradict that.)

Anyway, listen to the jangly rhythm sounds near the beginning of the cut; what instruments is he mixing down to get that effect, and how? Wilson was a master of audio synthesis, carefully blending and balancing unusual instrumental combinations on tape. Pianos, guitars, Farfisa organ, mallet percussion like the celeste, unified into a sound from which it is difficult to extract the individual components. Also, in this clip, don't miss the Theremin solo on the outchorus --- a poignant little line and, in my opinion, a much more memorable use of the instrument than on Good Vibrations. (Actually, I just read that it was an Electro-Theremin, inspired by the Theremin but different in terms of electronics and controls.)

You can read about Pet Sounds, Good Vibrations, and Wilson's ill-fated Smile album on Wikipedia, album jackets, and elsewhere, as well as their relation to Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band. Wilson got to feeling as if he were in a doomed race to the next big thing with the Beatles, in the process becoming frenetic, obsessive, frustrated, difficult, and withdrawn while producing tracks for the "failure" of an album that produced Heroes and Villains, Wild Honey, and Darlin'.

I intend to post more Beach Boys, particularly Brian Wilson, in the future. This is a band that is very easy for both self-conscious hipsters and discerning listeners to dismiss as simple, dated, and irrelevant. I disagree. I'm an admirer, and I have conjectured that had Wilson kept a level head on his shoulders and tamped down creative conflicts with other band members, the Beach Boys might have evolved into something very much along the lines of Pink Floyd. I hope to have several surprises in the foreseeable future.

Editor's note: due to the time stamp, this post qualifies for the category of Fifty50 After Hours, yet another copyrighted feature of this blog.

I Just Wasn't Made For These Times, Beach Boys (1966, from "Pet Sounds," Capitol Records), via YouTube, embedded for noncommercial critical discussion and educational purposes.

Saturday Night Fish Fry

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Went out of doors for the Fish Fry tonight; The Iron Post in Urbana, Ill., specifically. I think they call it The Iron Post because wherever you park your fundament in the room you're likely to be sitting behind an iron post.

Below is photographic documentation of a pickup band called Donald's Sons, which includes three guys named Donaldson and one guy named Big Rock Head. For most of the set BRH plucked his sweet hybrid Fender P-bass with the Jazz neck (picked it out myself when he was a tot, don't ya know), but on two tunes he and old Champaign Central HS Jazz Ensemble buddy Robert A., trumpet, played horns. In the photo, BRH (foreground) blows a tenor solo while acolyte Joel H. (right) assumes bass duties. I don't remember this second song he was blowing on when I snapped the photo because I was concentrating on getting a usable phone-cam pic. The first horn number was a version of Hendrix's "Red House." Both the vocals (by father Tim D., blurred with dorky hat) and the horn arrangement sounded reminiscent of Ray Charles, but with some Western Swing flavor. A marvelous concoction!

It's A Trap!

Well, it's a band formerly called Jackanapes. This is a shot of 3/7 of the members entertaining a robust crowd at The Iron Post, Urbana, late on 12 September. Just between us girls, I like to refer to this band as Skunk And The JuggLice. They play peppy tunes that might be categorized as gypsy-ska-punk. Pictured is an electric embodiment of the group. The acoustic version entertained guests at my place last New Year's Eve, and I think they were less cramped in my fireplace pit than on this dinky bandstand at the Post.

I shot the photo with my "see-in-the-dark" Nikon D700 set to ISO 6400, no flash. Interestingly, to me, I had to increase the shutter speed by the equivalent of about 2 stops (less light) compared with the exposure recommended by the meter. Was really nice to review each shot and find the correct exposure manually with little trouble or guesswork. The most amazing thing about this camera is how little noise (pixels of random color and brightness) there is in the image as shot in such low light at such high sensitivity. Right now you pay a big premium for this kind of tech; within 5 years (assuming the world doesn't end when the Aztec calendar does) we might see this kind of sensor quality in modestly priced snapshooters.

Side note: the band playing before IAT! was a five-man pickup jazz combo that also featured Big Rock Head (silver tenor sax) and Mike Eye (bari), plus local pal Aaron (not pictured, playing 40s and Dickie Dale-style guitar) and two others. They hadn't played together until earlier in the day (even if then --- don't know).

Take 5

An iPhone snapshot from early a.m. on 15 August 2009, composed by Big Rock Head during a sightseeing excursion in Chicago to visit some ne'er-do-well friends. Postprocessed in Bridge and Photoshop to boost the red objects a little and reduce color noise. Since I don't know anything about rendering for different color regimes and output devices, the reds don't look as vivid on my screen via the web as they do in my photo directory. But I'll worry about that tomorrow.

The photo is a found little gem of urban beauty. Thus spoke StuporMundi.

Three times seven

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One minute ago, a little googoo turned 21.

Snapshot [updated]

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Iron Post, Urbana, Illinois, about 6:30 p.m. Wednesday, 11 March 2009. This is the 14-piece Parkland College In Your Ear Big Band, halfway through their first set. Big bands don't tour much because they're expensive and, presumably, don't attract enough revenue to cover decent salaries. The name-brand ones mainly play at festivals and otherwise mostly just stick to recording. Not sure why big band economics worked out OK during the '30s and '40s, but not any more for celebrity acts. But who needs celebrities when you can see a pickup community group open their chops once a month for the low low admission price of $2? These gentlemen and ladies play Basie-esque charts and, every now and then, some '70s-vintage fusion stuff arranged for a big, mostly unplugged group. The band includes veteran schoolteachers, university jazz faculty, regular old college students, a few talented high school kids, and stray community members who have been doing it for years.

In the photo I tried to capture the early spring sunset colors streaming in through the west windows, silhouetting the director while showing the band. But with an iPhone camera there was no hope of that --- it would be a tough exposure to balance manually using any camera without lighting the group from in front. Still, the handsome devil with the vintage silver Chu Berry tenor shows up OK.

And in case you might wonder why they call the place "The Iron Post," I assume it's because there's one in plain view no matter what direction you look in --- usually right in front of your bean.

Update: that's right, I can't count --- 5 reeds + 8 horns + 3 rhythm = 16 pieces. Sheesh....

Happy New Year 2009

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As seen 22.5 hours ago in my living room: two-thirds of Jackanapes! From left to right, Mike, Mike, Mike, Dave. Apologies to James (acoustic bass guitar) and Chris (hand drums), who didn't fit in the lens. These boys play "acoustic gypsy punk," known to some people as "gypsy shit," in Champaign, Ill. Thanks, fellers!

Big Rock Head was here

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Big Rock Head was here

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As reparations for making Big Rock Head frown at me, provoked (for once), I herewith reproduce a scan of one of his recent hilarious cartoons. This one was sketched on the top of a foam fast food doggy box.

Bigger than the sun

Thanks to Big Rock Head, I found myself out in the brisk December dark to help the little guy with an automotive coolant application. Noticing it to be the first clear night since gazoo, I got home and brought the binoculars out into the front yard to find Comet Holmes.

It's still out there, but far away from where we viewed it on Healey Street a month ago. At about 2100 Central Standard Time it was about 15 degrees off top dead center, slightly northeast. Very diffuse, but huge. The comet's apparent diameter is now larger than the moon or the sun. You really should try to view this thing, especially if you can get away from light pollution. It's rare that comets are so convenient to look at. Google "Comet Holmes" to find an up-to-date sky map. There are all sorts of comet wonks out there who will help you find it (would provide you a link myself, but I'm too busy). I'm using 7 X 25 Nikon binoculars, which collect a lot of light, but I'm told that 10 x 50s are optimal for the human eye. So, unless you have lizard eyes, go out and take a look. Tip: we cannot see its tail from our angle of view on Terra; it looks like a large, pale haze-ball.