What are you wearing? Where are you sitting? Whom are you envying?
A few notes and recommendations:
Part 1: Guided by Voices
Last weekend I overpaid a babysitter so I could see Guided by Voices for the thousandth time. For years I’ve been saying they’re one of the greatest American rock bands – certainly, they’re one of today’s greatest live bands, period. The last time they came through, I brought a friend who wasn’t familiar with their hooks and high kicks. I think she had a good time, but I also know it might’ve been torture to stick around for their entire 56-song set. (To be fair, GBV tracks rarely last more than three minutes a pop.)
Dinosaur Jr. and Eugene Mirman split the bill; I’m sure you can find video somewhere, although I’m proud to say this crowd was mostly there to simmer in the experience, not to view it through their phones. The beer flowed and the bald-man ratio was high, and I worried the noise would give me vertigo the next day but I pulled through.
The other day my daughter was listening to Prince – truly, this is her favorite pastime – and she told me how much she loves the sound of a guitar. I may be completely inept when it comes to helping her with her math homework, but at least I’ve taught her that.
Part 2: Aline Kominsky-Crumb
When Dean told me Aline Kominsky-Crumb had died, I couldn’t believe it. Even her later work has the energy of a 23-year-old who thinks they’ll live forever. It’s a shame her 2007 book, Need More Love, is out of print, because it’s one of the best memoirs I’ve ever read.
Aline wrote and drew about art, beauty, relationships and our inner lives in a relatable and hilarious and sexy way. I admired her talent, but I also admired her self-confidence and how she could collaborate with her family. (The book Drawn Together features a bunch of comix she made with her husband, Robert.) Peggy Burns wrote a lovely remembrance of Aline, who lived like a firecracker and is probably doing the same in whatever dimension she floats through now.
Part 3: “The Masked Singer”
I probably shouldn’t write about this show, should I? I mean, it’s terrible. We know this. The judges give me tooth decay. And when the singers are finally “unmasked,” half the time I have no clue who they are.
In any case – and spoilers ahead, if you care about last week’s season finale – The Masked Singer is my daughter’s favorite show, so that means I have to watch it sometimes. Last week the two finalists were unmasked: the winner was former Glee star Amber Riley, and the runner-up was … Wilson Phillips.
And do you know what? I got a little emotional seeing Wilson Phillips belt out a Foreigner song. These women are in their 50s now, and they said they haven’t performed together in something like 14 years. Because Masked Singer contestants are costumed the whole time, they’re not judged for how they look – just how they sound – so along with the C-list former wrestlers or what have you, you’ll find, as I’ve noticed, a lot of folks who no longer fit lame, limited, youthful Hollywood beauty standards. Or maybe one time they released an album or a movie that didn’t perform as well as previous albums and movies, and they were cast aside. So there are certainly worse shows in these respects, and more power to Chynna, Wendy and Carnie for getting back on a stage 30 years after their MTV/VH1 heyday. Hold on!
Part 4: Charlie Trotter
I lived in Chicago from 2000-2003 and remember hearing a lot about chef Charlie Trotter. Then I left, and I stopped hearing about him altogether. The documentary Love, Charlie: The Rise and Fall of Chef Charlie Trotter is fascinating and devastating and tells a couple stories: One of the cutthroat restaurant industry and another of the fragility of life and the questions that often linger at the end of it: How did I spend my time? How did I treat others? Where did I get my love?
Part 5: Dolly Parton
Recently I picked up the small comics anthology Dolly Pardon – that’s the correct spelling – and liked it so much I passed it along to my 10-year-old, who now understands a little more why Dolly is a living legend. In it, a bunch of indie cartoonists each tackle a different era/angle of her life: her Tennessee childhood, the Porter Wagoner years, 9 to 5, her Imagination Library, on and on. A couple sites like this one are selling it for 10 bucks.
I’d love to meet Dolly; you’re guaranteed to get a great story. When I was in college in Tennessee, I knew someone who, through an internship (maybe with Dollywood?) got to witness Dolly Parton being slimed by the folks at Nickelodeon. Hearts were warmed, wigs were soiled.
Part 6: Strike!
A bunch of people I know – journalists and teachers, mostly – are on strike right now for better wages and fairer treatment. I’ve been both a journalist and a teacher, and the work was fulfilling, but good lord is it stressful and financially crippling. On a recent Slate podcast, writer/journalist Taffy Brodesser-Akner explains that she makes basically the same amount from writing one episode of television as she used to make in an entire year as a journalist. (She wrote the book and TV series Fleishman is in Trouble.) Most women journalists I used to know no longer do the job, because you basically have to kill yourself to scrape by, and it’s impossible to afford all the childcare the job requires. In any case, I hope all of these folks get everything they’re asking for.
Before I go:
Please watch the short film I wrote, DENNY BARRACUDA.
Read my diary comics on Patreon.
Email me anytime at whitmath@gmail.com.
Have a beautiful weekend!
with pine-scented love,
whit
I’m going to recommend (again) “Denny Barracuda” for those who haven’t watched it. A great short and is worthy of any prize it’s eligible to receive (unpaid endorsement).
Thank you for making me aware of “Dolly Pardon.” Someone is getting that in her stocking -- or under the tree, depending on size. 🤫