It is with profuse apologies / great pride [circle one] that i inform you today's blog has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.  Enjoy.

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Without further ado, let us behold the unique, understated majesty of this, a New York state highway sign.

 

I grew up off of Route 8 when i was a little kid.  In fact, i *had* that sign when i was younger.  I remember being was quite preoccupied with street signs, which, being stuck in the woods with no siblings and no real fondness of nature, i pretty much had to be preoccupied with something.  A touch of escapism at work perhaps, you know, "where does that highway go?" and all that.  I do remember being really excited to leave upstate and go, well, anywhere.  Glens Falls, Albany, gasp, JERSEY!

Going to Jersey was my favorite, actually.  In fact, pretty much the only thing i didn't – don't – like about Jersey is this:

 

What the hell is this?  For a state with as much, er, panache as Jersey to have the same state highway sign design as Kentucky and Iowa, is just plain wrong.  Then again, when given some creative latitude with signage, Jersey gets all "Microsoft Paint" and offers up these gems:  

    

That turnpikeazoid is timelessly whack, but i don't quite mind the GSP sign.  Still, the "parkway" stripe boldly obscuring a hearty chunk of the state's midsection, like a big cigar band, kinda sends the wrong message.  "When you think of Jersey, think of highways!"  Self-deprecating in a way that not even the 80s Nets could sink to. 

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Anyway, thanks to my incredibly worldly upbringing, these were pretty much the only state highway signs – or states – i'd see for the first 11 years of my life.  We never went much of anywhere until we moved to Denver.  So, you can imagine the overwhelming excitement of a young transit enthusiast getting off a 747 at Stapleton Airport and getting his first glimpse of this:  

 

That's pimp.  First of all, they didn't do the obvious and go with mountains, like they did on the license plates.  Colorado has always had a top notch state flag, and its use here is both seamless and eye-catching, a signature look.  I still get excited for bowls of green chile when i see one of those signs.

However, the vexological approach can sometimes be, well, vexing.  Exhibit 1: the New Mexico state highway sign, an awkward shotgun marriage of state flag elements and the "Jersey Circle":

 

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I personally am surprised they didn't go with the "state outline" strategy, as the shape of New Mexico is a bit more conducive to signage than most states.  That said, the ones that go with this literal-minded, self-absorbed, and in many cases, impractical look tend to be the exact ones you'd expect.     

     

Then there's the actual shape of state to consider, which often gets mercilessly mangled in some procrustean attempt to accommodate the legibility of the actual route number.

   

At least Georgia can still be itself when there are less than three digits in the mix.  Conversely, no matter what the route number, Alabama seems to exist in a permanent fun-house mirror.  Go too far down that garden path, and you end up with the angular art-nouveau atrocity that is the Arizona state highway sign:

     

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Notably, there's one state that definitely pulls this look off:

 

Awesome.  First of all, Texas is probably the most recognizable state shape in the U.S.  What more says Texas – or America – for that matter?  See a sign like that hanging in a bar and you know the beer's gonna be cheap. Plus, route 2978?  Everything's bigger than Texas.  

But, of course, there's a catch: that's not actually a state highway sign, but instead a farm-to-market route, some sub-category of highway designation indigenous to the Ranch Road State.  Alas, the official state sign here is this uninspiring placard: 

  

Still, at least Texas had the decency to put the state name at the bottom, so as to be less likely confused with a speed limit sign.  This is more than you can say for either Indiana or Illinois:  

 

"But officer, the sign said …"  

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Of course, why bother with the state name at all?  Such civic braggadocio does not jibe well with the no-nonsense nature of your typical down-easter.  Which is why you probably see this austere "design" used in most of the New England states ...

   

... which is strange, because you find them in the one part of the country where you may not actually know what goddamn state you're in at a given time.  Are we in Connecticut?  Massachusetts? MAINE?  I have NO IDEA!!  

Oh wait, we're in Rhode Island ...
 
 

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I find my favorites are inspired some variant of state pride angle, without resorting to the obvious and self-important state-outline.  A flag can be nice, but these are strangely underutilized, maybe because most states have really ornate flags.  So how about a play on the state nickname?  

     

Hm.  Utah's trying a bit too hard.  Pennsylvania's choice was probably unavoidable. That Kansas design is the bomb, though.  This sign alongside a field of sunflowers in full bloom in the state's desolate west, beaming brightly on a cloudless summer day, this may be the only interesting imagery you can associate with Kansas.   Except for tornadoes.  

Unofficial state "motifs" seem to work nice too. 

     

Wyoming's is definitely a winner.  It's gratifying to picture one of those, atop a tilting wooden post along a dusty road with no sign of civilization, riddled with bullet holes from drunk teens with rifles out on joyrides.  What better shorthand for the modern west?  Nebraska doesn't quite live up to it's neighbor's standard, but i appreciate the psychological message their signs send to travelers: "you think your sojourn through the state is boring and interminable, imagine being one of these poor wagon-driving schmucks."   

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Plus, note how Wyoming and Kansas employ actual color.  Not a lot of states were willing to go there.  Oddly, those that do tended to go with green.  

       

I mean, isn't there enough green signage on America's roadways?  This is like how every band sticker you see is printed with red and black ink.  Still, i gotta give it up for that California sign (speaking of bands).  Sleek, stylish, tattoo-worthy even.  The die-cutting is unique and inspired, the arced state name is bold, fresh twists on what, in less design-oriented hands, could've easily ended up like the banal blob that represents both Virginia and Oregon.

   

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Minnesota's state highway markers are nice.  They look kinda like baseball cards.

   

Conversely, i think we can all agree this is irredeemably goofy.  

   

These remind me of New Hampshire's signs, clinging to the memory of the Old Man of the Mountain, a natural landmark that slid into rubble back in 2003.   

 

I doubt highly the Granite State has a subcommittee looking into updating the design – probably too busy preparing for the 2012 Presidential Primaries taking place next summer – but if they do, may i suggest they embrace their New England pride and try this eye-catching little number?  

 

Ha ha, zing!     

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Lastly, i've never been to Alaska, Hawaii, Montana, Idaho or North Dakota, and have managed to resist looking up what their signs look like while researching this.  I'd rather discover in person.  That said, i'm gonna go out on a limb and say none of them can match the sheer awfulness of Dairyland's dada disaster …  

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The five best:  
5.  Minnesota
4.  Kansas
3.  Wyoming
2.  Colorado
1.  New York  

The five worst:  
5.  Alabama
4.  Utah 
3.  Arizona
2.  Washington
1.  Wisconsin  
Lastly, read about the curious disappearance of  here.

Recently, Career Club got an instrumental piece, "Skatta-Do", placed in a Vans video (to see it, click here and go to video 20).  We asked about getting paid, but they couldn't offer any money, so instead we got ... shoes.  Vans, of course, and mine is a pair of black high tops and i quite like them.

More recently, The Giraffes landed a tune or two in some Burning Angel productions.  If you don't know what Burning Angel is (which i didn't previous to last week), it's kinda like Suicide Girls, only with some dicks in the mix, and even shittier tattoos.  We asked about getting paid, but they couldn't offer any money, so instead we got ... a password.

Shoes, porn, this rock and roll thing's a real racket.

 

... is there another word in the English language other than unscrupulous that has four u's in it?

I wrote another Giraffes tour blog.  Now with more words!  A lot more words.  Damien weighs in too.  Read it here.

Also, someone brought this up after Mitch Mitchell died: is the Jimi Hendrix Experience the first rock band where every principle member is dead?  The Ramones have come tragically close, but i can't think of another where there are no survivors.

Lastly, anyone with some sort of hot tip about a job should contact me immediately before i sell a "lightly used" kidney.

Have a great day!
~ jc

Rodrigo of Brazil, whom i've never met, recently politely but firmly reminded me that as a touring rock musician, i do have plenty to be excited about in life, even if that doesn't translate into my occasionally mopey-ass writing.  And he's right, you know. 

And it's no secret that i am most giddy for the Giraffes impending return to the Midwest, and all the pleasures and treasures that non-rockers can only dream of, things like free Schlitz, other bands' t-shirts and a steady diet of Subway.  But give 'em credit, folks out there treat us much better than your average kickball player, and it's the least we could do to swing back by with regularity, and engage in some true irregularity.

Now, our van reeks of gas (and not even Drew's) and it's not like we can expect any freakishly mild weather anywhere were going (except maybe Denver). On the plus side, Prime Motivator will have been officially released, we'll have a new, much less Republican president, and, most importantly . . . smiling, drunk familiar faces everywhere we play (which incidentally is why we're skipping Pittsburgh, probably forever).   And since we're going where every Giraffe has gone before, i know more than ever what to expect.  So, blithely assuming we'll make it to each venue intact, here's what i'm looking forward to most  . . .

Cleveland (11/5):  We're playing at place called Now That's Class.  That sorta speaks for itself.

Chicago (11/6):  Cheap tacos, the decrepit stage, the majesty that is the Liar's Club, basically everything except the traffic.

Des Moines (11/7):  Waking up somewhere cold, dirty and utterly alone.

Denver (11/8): High School Pal Reunion III - Suspended Adolesence on Parade.

Laramie (11/9): Juice Falcon.

Kansas City (11/10): Well, there's that nice photographer who always shows up ...

St. Paul (11/11): The peg-legged erotic dance troupe, the chewable ED meds that taste like Spree, the live chicken, Professor Griff's guest rap during "Sickness," and the poorly-timed pyrotechnic mishap that will change Brad and Jillian's love forever.

Madison (11/12): The food.  Just kidding, The Frequency.

Columbus (11/13): Hearing Aaron complain about Ohio.  Somehow Cleveland just doesn't bring it out in him quite as much as the remainder of the state. 

Day Off (11/14): Crossing the New Jersey state line.  That's always when i feel like i'm home, even though i'm not yet.

CD Release Party at Mercury Lounge (11/15): The impending hangover and dry-cleaning bills.

Other fun:

* Seeing how many times Damien breaks his self-imposed moratorium on the use of the word "amazing", then shouting and hitting himself in the face.
* Listening to Pink Floyd, which i never get to do at home.
* Listening to Howard Stern.  A lot.
* Being cold.
* Scrabble.  Yes, the Giraffes play scrabble.  It can't all be completely disgusting.

But, we'll certainly try.  See you soon!

Hello!  I wrote a blog this morning, but i soon deemed it too boring to carry on living.  You see, this is why i haven't written so much lately: i'm uniformly unimpressed with my results.  A sign i've gotten old, perhaps, or just ran out of things to say. 

On that front, i've taken another stab at doing NaNoWriMo this year, but i'm not certain i'll be completing it.  Of course, i am faced with hours of down time on about 10 van rides, so a good time to get some writing done, so hope springs eternal.

Incidentally, if you know anyone in Cleveland, Columbus, Madison, Denver, Laramie, Kansas City, Chicago, Des Moines or the Twin Cities that enjoys rocking and wasting beer on theatrics, send 'em my way.

More eventually.

With little to occupy me at HQ, and with beautiful summer days quickly ticking away, i went out promotin' yesterday, hanging posters and such for our upcoming yacht-hunting expedition.  In fact, it was around this time last year that i recall  a lengthy flyering campaign for Career Club's ill-fated "cassette release party", under similarly splendid weather.  I hung this poster (which, in a protracted bout of old-skooledness, i made at a Kinko's) all over the W'Burg / Grnpnt metro area, decorating many with highlighter pens.  The attendence at the show in question:  roughly 5. 

Say what you want about "The Club" and The Giraffes, but really, i'm not terribly convinced that these traditional methods of promotion really work anymore, no matter who's involved. I mean when was the last time you actively made note of a poster?  I only did because i was covering others up with my own.  Mindly i don't typically do this, unless the guilty flyer offends my sensibilites somehow.  So, yeah, most of the time i guess.

One flyer i made note of read simply "ART DOESN'T PAY"  This was accompanied by a bottom row of tear-off tags that read, well, "art doesn't pay."  Bitter AND faux-profound, my favorite combo!  I covered up every instance of this trite atrocity i could find, while getting nostalgic, perhaps hypocritically, for my old "Lost Fish" flyer. 

Then there was this doozy, an ad for a band looking for, in all likelihood, a drummer.  At the bottom, it read:

Original!  Indy [sic]!  Commercial! 

... which, along with"Vacation Bible School", qualifies as perhaps the language's only triple oxymorons.

That said, i did see Jesse Blockton on the street yesterday, and gave him a flyer.  So, if he goes, it just might have been worth it.

Holy crap, my favorite Lilys song just came on at the cafe.  What a lovely day.

There's only so much Small Stakes a guy can play, so, a quick attempt to write, anything.

I find that my preceptions and my appreciation of music has changed radically this calendar year.  I'm not sure if has to do with my stint with Power Chord Academy, my joining the Giraffes, my age, etc.  The only records from 2008 i've listened to repeatedly are The Dirtbombs and Freshkills' new ones.  I know i'm still capable of being floored by a record or song.  I just find it happens a lot less often than it used to.  I've grown tired of anything even remotely "experimental."  The sheer glut of folk and folk-based music prevalent these days i find tremendously disconcerting.  I get pissed off when i think a band can't write songs.  Things like that.  Mostly, if i listen to music at all, i listen to Pandora, usually surf songs, or the garage punk podcasts Jackie downloads.  Same stuff i always listen to, in other words.

Just for a laugh, i recently attempted an Indie Rock Baseball column.  That once-flourishing enterprise has laid fallow since, well, the beginning of baseball season, due both to Hans' married life and my hectic recent work history.  I came across a stack of random CDs i'd set aside a while ago for reviewing purposes, got about two songs deep into a disc by a hideous British band named These New Puritans, and quickly abandoned my efforts.  I can't really make myself listen to bad music any longer.  I can't even joke about it, somehow.  Well, i'd still be up for doing the podcasts.  Those were fun.  But, i think to be a music writer, you have to like music a lot more than i do currently.  Plus, aside from Tris McCall, i'm starting to find all music writing a fraud.  I can go in depth about this if you please.

A few nights ago, i found myself quite bored / broke, and whiled away time digging out old 7"s and giving them a listen.  The Cash Registers record i played on has held up surprisingly well, so that's some good news.  And the "Dishwasher" 7" (Queers, Hi-Fives, Scared of Chaka) will never fail to bring a smile to my face.  Conversely, have you attempted to listen to the Make Up this decade?  Holy calamity, that thing's aged about as well as your average Polish girl.  Then there was weird-for-the-sake-of-being-weird, what-was-i-thinking crap like To Live and Shave in L.A. and the Dead C, but i guess we all have those "experimental" phases.  I sorta miss mine at times.

Incidentally, i got to meet James Canty at PCA, as he is now the 2nd guitarist in Ted Leo's band.  Nice to see he landed on his feet; he was always my favorite player in the Make Up.

I can't really bring myself to write too much about PCA.  It didn't go as bad as i made it sound at times, and the fact is, now that it's over, i'm really glad i did it.  I met a lot of cool folks, both kids and staff.  And, believe me, i learned some stuff.  A few choice observations:

* Virtually every bass player played sans pick.  Ugh.
* Nirvana, Guns and Roses and the Red Hot Chili Peppers (?!) are the older bands the kids are still feeling.  Oh, and Sublime.  I think you have to be under age 19 to even know any Sublime songs. 
* The ratio of facebook friend requests to MySpace friend requests i've gotten post-camp is about 20:1.
* Kids write really good pop songs.  In fact, i think you *have* to be a kid to write a good pop song.  Not "poppy" mind you, but straight up, here's a simple song, with simple hooky lyrics, pop.  There's still a few songs from camp that have been stuck in my head (or at least resurfaced occasionally) for weeks, in spite of me hearing them maybe 3 times.  Which is more than you can say for, oh, Kings of Leon.
* The kids are alright.

Well, i guess i *can* write about camp!  I've been encouraged to whip up an article about my time there, but i don't think i'm quite there yet.

Lastly, for the inevitable show plug:



More writing when i'm feeling funny,
Jens T. Carstensen III

So, yeah, tomorrow i embark on my rock and roll adventure / summer job.  I'm going to be the director for the New York branch of Power Chord Academy, a summer camp for teen rockers.  I leave for San Diego to train for a week; Josh Taggart will be there too, as might his fellow Moon Rabbit Jeremy Gibson.  Upon my return, i will be spending the next 5 weeks living on the campus of St. John's U. in Queens, ensuring that ragtag bunches of young rockers write, record and perform in harmony.  In preparation, i rented and watched Meatballs, and felt like i got some truly valuable experience.

So, yeah, that's the scoop.  July 12 will be an interesting day, my only night off during my stint, where i'll be playing live both with The Giraffes (with Goes Cube and Freshkills at the Brooklyn Kickball field at 5pm) and with Cover Me Badd at Adam Altman's post wedding shindig (with The Black Tie Party at Parkside Lounge at 8pm).  So, yeah, if you wanna drop by and say hello, there are two fun free chances to do so. 

Other than that, i'll see you in August!  I'll try and check in and let you know how it's going.  Unless i'm hanging by my underpants from a flagpole.