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Over the law two days, I have gone to a few places – successful places with plenty of profit and income – that are woefully inadequate in regard to access for handicapped people, especially wheelchair users. There is a law that was passed in 1991, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), that sets specific standards for access that any public accommodation is to follow.  Unfortunately, the ADA also included lame, inconsequential penalties for breaking those laws – so inconsequential that most lawyers wouldn’t take a case as the pay-out would be too small.

I lived in Columbus, Ohio from ~2002 ~ 2006 or so, and I guess I didn’t know how good I had it. When I moved back to Mississippi, I was shocked at the number of places that were not accessible, and apparently had not ever heard of the ADA as no attempt at access had been made. I was in Nuevo Laredo, Mexico in 2000 – even a third world country had benner access than some places in Hattiesburg, Mississippi – and that is no joke or stretch. The public market had ramps, and the restaurants I went to had plenty of access.

The penalty for not being accessible is $3000 – the penalty for willful discrimination against handicapped people is $50K. I would have to state that blatantly ignoring a law that is almost 20 years old would rise to the level of willful discrimination. I believe I can file a case in Federal court for $50. Part of why I went to law school was to enforce the ADA, so I guess I will file a few cases to right some wrongs in Hattiesburg. Be warned business owners in Hattiesburg, Mississippi; there is a new sheriff in town, and his name is Justin Martin.

I will probably post the names of businesses that are not in compliance with the ADA.

#1 on my list is Mug Shots – there is ONE barely marked “handicapped” parking space that is almost always filled with some able-bodied person; the bottom of the ramp they have on the side of their building is impassable without some major maneuvering – a person in a power chair would be SOL; the front door is a double door, but one side is always locked, so you have to wait and bug the shit out of someone to let you in, and the door closest to the ramp has a 4″ or so threshold, which is not within ADA standards; the bathroom is a treat – the floor is unbelievably nasty, there is no accessible stall/toilet, and the sink is recessed into a place so narrow that I can’t even reach it to wash my hands – I went in the kitchen and washed my hands the last time I was there

See these pictures:

I missed the opening two bands – Disco Doom and ? I was catching up with a friend at a local taqueria (with awesome menudo, but that is another story all together).  The venue was very appropriate – Warehouse Live! just south of downtown Houston – reminded me of Jimmy’s in New Orleans, but 2x as large – exceptional handicapped facilities and seating.  Very accommodating staff at the venue, which is good and bad.  They made it a point to knock people out of the way on the ramps and I was behind a velvet rope in a special section with press photogs and special guests – it was very nice, but kind of weird. I like the ability to see and maneuver, but I feel like maybe temporarily able-bodied types resent it a bit, even if only momentarily. Now, on to the show.

I got settled in just as Doug Martsch was checking his guitar amp/vocals.  Doug came out very typically – bushy beard, male pattern baldness hair, t-shirt, blue chinos, New Balance tennis shoes – could have been any of a number of college English professors on a Saturday morning jaunt for coffee/bagels. The rest of the band ambled out and started checking their amps/drums, looking all very similar, and suddenly started playing a song to start their set.  No fanfare, no anticipation, no introduction, no falderal – they came to play music.  The band played through all different phases of the BtS catalog, with “Cars” seeming to be the highlight for the crowd. There was a small contingent of  late teens who were impossibly excited at every song and pumped their fists and sang along to every song.

I was taken aback at the complete non-chalant nature and absolute lack of “professionalism” with which BtS played their set.  This is not to say that the band was not tight or well-rehearsed, because they played those songs as tight as one can expect for a band named Built to Spill – very solid. Occasionally, Martsch would tank the crowd after a song.  The guitarist broke a string a couple of songs into the set on one of his guitars. Rather than hand the guitar to a roadie/guitar tech, Doug grabbed a 70s style plastic luggage case, opened it up, and rifled through any number of cords/junk to grab a set of strings to give to the guitarist. I had to laugh, as I had seen something very similar at a local music show within the past month. Then a flood of weirdness hit my head – why does BtS have no one out with them to tech./roadie?

While I thought BtS was always charming in their lack of rock star histrionics in terms of recording or playing live, it became clear to me that BtS had no one out with them because the live shows are probably the only way any of those guys make money. They didn’t seem overly excited about playing, as there was very little movement on the stage.  Martsch didn’t have to try to sing like he wasn’t into it, because maybe he really wasn’t. It really seemed like they were touring because old farts, like myself, now could go to a venue and pay $35 for a ticket rather than the probably $8-10 they might have received “back in the day.” At the same time, Built to Spill never seemed that excited or overly enthusiastic about recording flawless albums, anyway. Maybe I was making a much bigger deal about their blatant lack of professionalism than was warranted.  Maybe they were just doing what they always did.

Dinosaur, Jr., however, did the rock thing the right way, in my opinion: plenty of roadies/techs to re-arrange the stage, set up amps/drums, check guitars/vox – the rock idiom was completed. The band set-up in an interesting way – one line of people at the front of the stage – no drum riser, and all close together. J Mascis had an unorthodox, and impossibly loud set-up (thanks, earplugs): 3 full guitar stacks (1 – 50 watt HiWatt with 2 – 4×12″ cabs and 2 – 100 watt Marshalls with 8 – 4×12″ cabs (3 amps and 6 cabs) – all covered in purple tolex) about 10 feet behind the vocal mic in a semi-circle, with a HiWatt combo on top of a purple SVT anvil case the the front right of J.  It was all very loud.  He also had a huge pedal board of wah, delay, different switching/distortion, phase, etc. Lou Barlow played into a Marshall 50 watt guitar head with a 4×12″ guitar cabinet and the same signal split into an old Peavey amp into an Ampeg 8×10″ cabinet and some other 4×10″ cabinet. Murph had a nice Purple/green sparkle drum kit – kick, snare, 2 toms, with a hi-hat, a crash and a ride – very basic.  J played a bunch of Fender Jazzmaster guitars, Lou played what looked like an old P-bass re-issue.

Unlike Built to Spill, Dinosaur, Jr. played the rock thing pretty well: a guitar tech kept switching guitars with J, some drum issue happened early and some drum butt-cracks stumbled over each other to get that fixed quickly. Also, unlike BtS, Dinosaur Jr. were very enthusiastic about playing the songs.  Lou rocked out, as is customary from him; J rocked out, although a bit more reserved – he did it up pretty well.  They jammed some between songs, which was surprising – and J actually smiled once or twice. There was very little banter at all – J thanked people. Lou, before the encores, said “what would be really cool was if we had some really cool encores worked up to play.” As it was, the one two punch of Kracked/Sludgefest was way cool – I was left wanting more. It was strange to see Lou play the Dino, Jr. songs that he didn’t play during recording – I didn’t feel that way about Murph, though.  They attacked the songs with abandon, however. I was certainly pleased I made the 6+ hours drive each way to see the bands. The sound mix was ok – the toms were too loud, the snare not loud enough, the bass was not loud enough, either, but no problems with the vox or guitars.

Unlike “back in the day,” I had the money for a good hotel room instead of driving back the same night, as in my youth.  I had to laugh at myself in that I was glad I got into Houston early, so I could check-in to the hotel and take a nap before the show – what an old fart!

I would have liked to hear a couple of more songs from Bug and You’re Living all Over Me, and maybe none of the post-Lou songs, but the set ebbed and flowed well, and I was left wanting more. All in all, very good show – B+, teetering on A.

Dinosaur, Jr. set list: ”Thumb” from Green Mind; “In a Jar” from You’re Living All Over Me; “I Want You to Know” from Farm; “Imagination Blind” from Farm; “Get Me” from Where You Been; “Pieces” from Farm; “Plans” from Farm; “Feel the Pain” from Without a Sound; “Over It” from Farm; “Little Fury Things” from You’re Living All Over Me; “Freak Scene” from Bug; “I Don’t Wanna Go There” from Farm

Set end

Encores: ”Kracked/Sludgefest” from You’re Living All Over Me

I watched Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas again tonight – Gilliam nailed the book and the thesis of the book, as I see it: an American life is perverse.  Throughout the book, there is a seething undercurrent of anger and disillusion regarding life in America through Thompson’s mind.  Thompson sees the American dream as a fight to the finish, with commerce and status buying nothing but misery and pain.  Even those that made a flaccid attempt at “dropping out” (as if), the “hippies,” got it all wrong.

Thompson is a tragic guy, in my opinion.  Very talented, but his disdain for ordinary people, his misanthropic nature, wears me out after a while.  In a post-modern world, I can look around and can completely buy the idea that life is a sham and the good guys lose.  However, that thought isn’t going to make me reject the game and cash in my token. I may have complete disdain for my lot in life, but I balance it with a desire to see something really cool occasionally. For me, that occasional something cool is typically an improbable blessing from the hand of chaos: the immigrant worker that wins 1/8 of 300,000,000 in a lottery pool; the impossibly talented structural engineer that arises from poverty, neglect, and society’s damnation; the high and mighty compass of morality brought down in a blaze of homosexual prostitution and crystal meth – that stuff keeps me alive, sick as that may be.  I am comfortable with the idea that life is a fleeting moment; the fact that nothing matters and the good guy loses more often than not does not make me hate life.  American life is a perverse life, just as it is anywhere else, in any culture, worshiping any God.

I am ok with it – has growing up a product of post-modern life made me complacent with mediocrity?  I don’t know. I don’t question that aspect of life.

I am preparing a syllabus and gathering my notes, comments, thoughts together for a class I am teaching this fall: FLM 170, Film Appreciation. I am torn with how to organize the class, but I believe I am going to get the lectures out of the way in the first four weeks of class, and leave ten classes open for viewing films and discussion. When I consider teaching a class in appreciating film, I am reminded of the Steve Martin quote, “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” It seems the best way to go about this is to develop a framework for critical analysis of the film and put the framework into action by watching and discussing some films.

I will discuss a bit about movies, the production aspects and the what character plays what role on a movie production, i.e. what does a producer actually do?

I toyed around with alternating a class discussion/lecture one week and watching a movie the next, but I believe it is better to have all of the tools available for film analysis THEN watch films for students to totalize their knowledge.  If that doesn’t work, I will alternate next time and go at it in that manner.  I am looking forward to the class, so that people can get out of their comfort zone and expand how they consider film art and hopefully life, too.  A friend just says I am teaching them to be film snobs, and I guess that isn’t too far off of the mark.  Is snobbery in art all that bad a thing?  I will not physically prevent anyone from seeing The Transformers movies, no matter how ridiculous they are, but that does not mean that I have to watch them, too.

So far, I am considering these films: Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane, Hitchcock’s Shadow of a Doubt, Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove, Polanski’s Chinatown, Scorsese’s Taxi Driver, Terry Gilliam’s Brazil, Speilburg’s Schlindler’s List, Luc Besson’s The Professional, Cohen Brothers’ Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?, and Guillermo del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth.