I haven't been writing much lately, here or anywhere, really. I don't have the stomach to publicly air personal grievances so much anymore, and spending any time at all writing up my thoughts on the latest film/record/meme I've absorbed seems utterly ridiculous (it's easier to just post links on Facebook and let the followers make up their own minds) ... this era we "live" in is overloaded with opinions, half-baked judgements handed down instantaneously without a chance at reflection, usually informed by whichever pundits and cultural critics we are drawn to through our particular political/social leanings. I just can't help but feel that in a world where everyone's voice gets an equal volume (via the internet, which provides anyone with access a platform), opinion becomes devalued. It's a quandary I can't grapple successfully with ... the age-old fascism of "experts" (who are often wrong) and "tastemakers" (who are merely privileged) vs. the populist nightmare of simple minds brought up to believe that every impulse is pure and correct and must be expressed. I've lived my life believing wholeheartedly in the latter, but at 42 years of age, which includes a decade soaking in the internet's utopianism, I must admit that the answer, as usual, can only be found in the middle.

But who the fuck is me? I'm writing this at 1:43pm, I'll post it within the next ten minutes or so. I am as weak with zeitgeist as anyone. We are all wrong, so very, very wrong, about everything we think we know. And everything I wrote in the previous paragraph is simply a prelude to discussion about the Jeni Lee Richey Explosion, which seems to be the only thing I'm currently inclined to cover in this "online diary" (such an archaic term now, but one that I took a little too seriously for the first many years of my so-called "blogging"). My life is none of your business anymore, not what I think about the Touch & Go Fanzine reunion that I didn't go to last weekend, not how I feel about my rapidly aging body, not what's going on in my work as a professional microfiche technician, not nothing. Got my phone number? Give me a call, I'll tell you more than you wanna know.

Anyhow, JLR/TGT gigged last Friday night at the Old Miami, a legendary venue in Detroit's Cass Corridor, and while we've had some satisfying shows in the past, this was the first that felt really right. We had power, spontaneity and precision, and of course only my pal Ed was present to attest to this fact (word is there is video/audio footage available, but I've yet seen it and until I do I must assume it doesn't exist). Doesn't matter, I know that it's true, so does Jeni, who came to me wild-eyed later in the night to proclaim "We've done it. We are ready." She's right. We're going to Ghetto in two weekends to lay down some serious full-band tracks, so unless the muse quits us I'll have plenty to crow about before Fall hits. We'll be in Ypsilanti, Lansing and Hamtramck in the months to come, so please do come.

OK, so the Elbow Room show in late July is effectively null and void due to sudden surprise developments, but JLR/TGT are still gigging at the Lager House this Saturday night, an evening that also heralds the sixth anniversary of my nuptials ... June 26th, 2004 is when Lori and I exchanged public vows in Swartz Creek MI (with Deming presiding), and we've promptly forgotten the anniversary every year since then -- both of us, this is no sitcom husband talking here, the date is inscribed on the inside of our wedding bands but we forget to mark the date nevertheless. One of us invariably remembers either a week before or a week after said date, and it's not the first time I've scheduled shows on our special day without realizing ("Hey baby, we got anything going on June 26th? Probably not? OK, we're gonna play someone's nephew's graduation party."). Anyhow, JLR/TGT will be opening the show (meet us there around nine or ten) and for the rest of the night after that Lori and I will fight ANYONE who has a problem with our relationship, we will FISTFIGHT YOU in the parking lot or street, whichever is most convenient. We dare you to question our love. Find more details here or here. Same show, different Facebook.

My new job in the microfiche industry proves endlessly challenging. I've spent days cutting and cataloging microfilmed editions of Newsweek, Playboy and Modern Psychological Disease (among hundreds of other popular magazines and trade journals). It's refreshing to know that nearly-outdated technology can still thrive in Michigan ... not a scanner in the joint, everything captured straight to real film on dusty 1970s-era equipment. It's a highly-classified secret government contract we're working on, so I can't give you any more details than that (I've already said too much), but I'm learning valuable skills that will translate well into civilian work at digital watch factories or some kind of post-doc pager technology work.

(EDITOR'S NOTE: The preceding joke would also work with "Polaroid's Betamax division," "8-track tapery" and "typewriter repair." )

Updated logo and Lager House gig info.

Some upcoming shows upcoming for JLR/TGT, including the gig postered above with the thought-they-were-dead-but-they-ain't VOLEBEATS ...

June 26, 2010 -- The Lager House, Detroit MI
July 10, 2010 -- The Belmont, Hamtramck MI
July 30, 2010 -- The Elbow Room, Ypsilanti MI
October 16, 2010 -- Mac's Bar, Lansing MI

Yeah, that's what a happening joint Mac's has become, they're booking five months in advance. There are other shows being worked over that we'll be announcing soon enough, including (fingers crossed) my hometown of Flint, where a recent unexplained murder spree resulted in many panicked residents demanding the mayor call in the National Guard. He didn't. Here's hoping!

Anyhow, we'll have some new songs from the pen of Ms. JLR, more spooky laments about corpses and curses set to outlaw rhythms and wrapped up in barbed wire. Maybe a few more dusty leftovers from the Clutters era too, since I'm still trying to recover from my Seattle hangover and everything I write these days is either too true or too false.

"I want to play every show as if it's my last."

You wanna hang out in Lansing tomorrow night?

Jeni Lee Richey and The Great Tribulation opens for Wally Pleasant at Mac's Bar.

First time I've played Mac's since 1999, when the inaugural End Times lineup was invited to an Etch Magazine-sponsored music festival (did they actually call it Etchfest? Or course they did). If I remember correctly, we had two fans drive all the way from Grand Rapids to dig it, but circumstances demanded that I play the whole gig with my back to the audience ... I promise that won't happen this time, because I sit down to play now and no matter how angry I get it just won't be convenient. I guess I did the back-to-the-crowd routine once before for a typically neurotic Clutters gig, opening for my then (and still) heroes Mike Ireland and Holler (whose rumored claim to fame is making the worst-selling Sub Pop LP of all time -- also one of the best countrypolitan records of all time, so I guess you just can't have it all), and I don't even remember what the problem was that night ... jeez, maybe I should be scared. Fuck it, the point is that I'll be playing Mac's for the umpteenth time since my debut there in 1996, and we're gonna be fucking great, I swear to god. Then you can dig Flatfoot, a married couple who play ukuleles and no less a man than Wally Fucking Pleasant. We go on first, so show up early, get loaded and stay as long as you're able.

I did visit Mac's a few weeks back to watch Scarlet Oaks play and I'm happy to report that while the bar still has a dozen TV sets mounted at various vantage points, they no longer broadcast strictly sports-oriented programming, unless you can call vintage Asian martial arts films "sports."

I'll meet you at The Best Steak House beforehand if you contact me in time ...