I Don’t Wanna Grow Up

Fifties Chevy BelAir station wagon on Brooklyn street
Fifties Chevy BelAir station wagon on Brooklyn street

When our Netflix queue ran dry we put out the word and loaded it up with recommendations from friends. We lost track of who recommended what but I’m pretty sure our friends A & R pointed us toward “Momma’s Man“.

We watched the movie a couple nights ago and were transfixed by it. A low budget movie with the director’s parents ((avant-garde filmmaker Ken Jacobs and painter Flo Jacobs, shown third and second from the right in this photo) playing versions of themselves in the fourth floor Manhattan walkup he grew up in. The director, in the form of Mickie, comes home and wallows in his adolescence. We saved the extras for the next night and the movie only got better. Instead of the director talking over the movie he dispensed with a rerun of the visuals and recorded a conversation with his parents about the movie, a minimal masterpiece, that deepens the movie’s impact.

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Transcendency

Turkey walks by out front
Turkey walks by out front

Remember PIL’s performance on American Bandstand? It was one of those transcendent moments of rock n’ roll bliss. We watched it live and hadn’t seen it until we followed this link on the Mojo site. I had a scare last week when SMR almost reached the one week mark without a new post. Turns out it was just a temporary lapse and it’s come roaring back with posts on Kraftwerk and early Swamp Dogg.

Rochester’s favorite realtor, Rome Celli, had his yearly bash last night treating his past and present clientele to popcorn and a movie at the Little Theater. We chose the Descendants, which featured a realtor, and then squeezed in to the café where Annie Wells was playing with a big band. Her ethereal, upper register voice was lost in the din but we did get to hear a bit of a Dave Ripton song on the way out.

I picked up a City Newspaper and was thrilled to find Frank DeBlase back in the saddle after his hospital tweak. Frank’s writing doesn’t get sidetracked with the back story crap. He goes right for the gut and conveys music’s potential for transcendent moments.

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