This last video clip is from a different night, the second time we played CBGB. Not nearly as many people came. In fact, Jim couldn’t make it to the show, so Josh played bass and I did as many guitar parts as I could.
The video itself isn’t anything special, but the fact that it exists is. My father, who also couldn’t make it to New York that night, stood in front of his computer screen holding his video camera to record the primitive live feed from CBGB. He did this for our entire set, just standing there watching fuzzy images on Windows Media Player jump and shift while they made indecipherable noises that offended his sense of art and decency.
I’m not sure whether or not I want kids or not, but if I do end up having them, I hope I’m that kind of dad.
So thanks, Dad, for coming to the shows you could and even checking on us for the shows you couldn’t get to. Thanks for recording us, too, and helping me upload them so I could share them on The Potato Barn.
That’s the end of the Burn Kate Extravaganza! I hope you all enjoyed it. The Potato Barn dips its feet into the deep end next week!
Day Four: The Finale!
This song, Never Follow A Pretty Girl To A Party, was typically our closer, simply cuz we got to jump around like idiots. The joke was that it was written about Natalie Portman, but I don’t think there’s any truth to that rumor (I refuse to believe Ms. Portman could be so cold).
This footage is fun because we just go a little nuts toward the end. I get on a chair, then get scared. I’m afraid of heights, and even the rats knew CBGB was structurally unsound. Josh disappears, then returns to shout about free CDs at the end. “Free” was really all we had to push on people, so we ran with it. Oh, and we got to end a show with “Good night, New York City!”
For those of you still with us, this is Day Three of Burn Kate on The Potato Barn. Hope you’re enjoying yourselves. I know I am.
Today’s entry is Suburbia, which features a guitar solo by yours truly that falls short of being awesome because…well, because I was playing it. The solo comes to a climax on a high D note, on the 22nd fret of the high E string. Trouble was, I was playing a Mexican Stratocaster with 21 frets, not 22.
Now, any competent guitarist could’ve bent the note up that extra half step. Alas, I did not. On my tombstone, etched just beneath “Played a show at CBGB,” you’ll find the words “but didn’t nail the solo.”
All right. I’m done playing nerdy critic to myself. This song rocks:
Welcome to Day 2 of The Potato Barn’s Burn Kate Extravaganza! Today, you get two videos! And no, you will not get three tomorrow.
After Lindsay, we went right into a song called Can’t Stand You, which I’ve heard is about my sister but that was only a rumor. Unfortunately, the camera shut off soon after we started that tune, and didn’t pick up again until we had already started the next one, Goodbye Takoma Park. Watch early in the video for Jim trying to get Josh to shut up so we can start the song. Here they are:
Next up, City Limits, a song that extolled the virtues of drinking your problems away even though none of us could legally do so. Josh actually asks if somone in the audience will buy him a beer. Enjoy:
Most of you probably know this, but humor me.
Once upon a time, I was in a band called Burn Kate. And though we were well-known in the South Jersey punk scene, we really didn’t have that much of a following that was a) located more than 10 miles from Collingswood, New Jersey; or b) old enough to drink beer.
We were pretty desperate to change that, so we worked at getting shows in bars and in other areas beyond Camden County. We played a few bars with moderate success, but our crowning achievement (this will be etched on my tombstone) was playing the fabled New York City club CBGB, where bands like the Ramones, Blondie and the Talking Heads got their starts.
We dragged a few friends along to make it seem like we had fans, which didn’t turn out great for them (my buddy Steve got two $50 parking tickets). Still, they came, and for that we were grateful.
Like the band, the club is now defunct. But my father–the awesome, super cool person that he is–also came to New York that February night, video camera in hand, and taped the show. All this week, The Potato Barn will feature video from that show and my own commentary on our flawless (HA!) performance.
This first number is called Lindsay. Listen at the end for Jim apologizing to the audience for putting them through this. Here, making our Internet video debut*, are Josh Kates, Jim Campolongo, Mike “Monkey” Cousin, and myself, as Burn Kate.
*If anyone knows of any video of us on the Intarweb, quit hiding it from me.
I now pronounce you happy and legal...I hope!
I apparently have a knack for ending up in states that knock down same-sex marriage rights.
On Thursday, the New Jersey Senate turned down a bill that would have legalized marriage for gay and lesbian couples. Proponents had hoped to get the bill passed before Gov. Jon Corzine, a Democrat, leaves office in two weeks. Corzine had promised he would sign the bill into law. His successor, Republican Chris Christie, said he would veto a gay marriage bill.
I wish I could eloquently explain why I think same-sex couples should be allowed to marry, but I can’t do it as well as others can. For me, it’s just something I feel is right, like anything else defies logic and decency. It’s a feeling that comes from somewhere within me, call it a soul or core or spirit or whatever. I think it’s the same place that feelings of love or laughter come from.
In any event, the Jersey vote is just another in a series of failed efforts on same-sex marriage, and it’s time the backers of same-sex marriage need to take a step back from the political system. In continuing to push for doomed ballot measures and legislation, marriage equality advocates are handing over momentum to their opposition. Each defeat gives people in other states and representatives from other communities a reason to think it’s all right to vote against equality.
It’s not right. It’s wrong.
But homosexuality is something still feared and misunderstood by large swaths of the population. As long as that fear exists, there won’t be the political will to change anything. Calming those fears is essential to building support for marriage equality.
That’s why New Jersey activists should take a page from Basic Rights Oregon, a group that has turned their sights away from the judge’s bench and the executive’s desk, and instead focused on the family dinner table. They’ve started a campaign called Marriage Matters, which asks everyday people to talk to their friends and family about why marriage equality is important to them and why same-sex couples deserve the right to marry.
These people aren’t famous, or powerful, and they’re not trying to reach out to politicians or lobbyists. They’re reaching out to people they know, who trust their opinions on everything from music to relationship advice. These conversations aren’t going to change policy overnight the way a law or court decision would. But they are going to change public opinion over time, which will do more for the cause of marriage equality than any one vote.
But gay rights activists are tired of waiting. NJ.com quoted Garden State Equality chairman as saying: “We are not waiting out the term of any new administration to bring equality to same-sex couples in our state.” That frustration is understandable. But marriage equality will not happen without broad-based support (2/3 of all voters, not just those under 30). That support does not yet exist.
So. Since I’m apparently in the business of making New Year’s Resolutions, I’m going to change one person’s mind this year about same-sex marriage: my father’s. (Dad, if you’re reading this, consider yourself warned.) I’d ask all of you reader-folks to do the same.
Of course, if you don’t agree with marriage equality, I’d like to talk to you, too.
Well, that was fun. A cross-country road trip, Thanksgiving, several fruitless interviews, Christmas, a visit from a lovely Montana Reporter, and a New Year’s Resolution to never, ever work for a newspaper again. Except maybe freelancing. Or growing a sense of humor and working at The Onion.
The Potato Barn is coming back with a vengence, people. And starting Monday, we’re kickin’ it old-school with a week-long series of videos and commentary. Get excited.
These are likely the last of my Mercury articles, so I’m glad I got several into this issue. Read, and enjoy!
First off, the feature: reporter Sarah Mirk and I rode the wheels on the bus round-and-round the Portland area, taking in all the sites.
Next up, Hip Hop High! Efforts are underway in Portland to bring a recording arts charter school to the area.
And finally, someone set fire to a local union’s office building. There aren’t any leads on the arsonist yet, but the union isn’t shying away from the possibility that the fire was ideologically motivated.
Thanks for reading. Again, check back periodically for updates, and get ready for a December to remember (lamest rhyme ever).
When I was at summer camp as a kid, we used to sing the Announcement Song. Here’s a rendition of it:
Anyway, now that that’s out of the way, here’s the announcement: The Potato Barn is in the process of moving back to the East Coast. Unfortunately, this means updates are going to be sparse to non-existent for the next few weeks, as The Barn gets all packed up and hits the road. Check when you can, and follow me on Twitter @sfbreslin as I make my way across the continent.
Thanks to all of you for checking The Potato Barn recently. Our regularly-scheduled programming will return in December.
Should I be checking out the one on the left, or the one on the right?
I’ll admit it: I’m not a huge fan of the papaya. A little too tangy for my liking. What’s more, it’s got too many seeds.
But after hearing a report on Marketplace this morning, the piles of seeds started to make sense. I can’t find the link to the radio story, but here’s an article that sums up the situation. Apparently the papaya produces three sexes of seeds: male, female and hermaphrodite. Different seeds produce different kinds of trees, but only one produces the fruit: the hermaphrodite seeds.
In a hilarious trick of nature, it’s impossible for farmers to tell the difference between the seeds (think It’s Pat!, but with fruit). What’s more, trees grown from hermaphrodite seeds produce all three types of seed, not just more hermaphrodites. That means farmers have been planting clusters of seeds, hoping one of them is hermaphroditic, and cutting down the other plants. Not only is this frustrating for the farmers, but it’s wasting resources like water and land on trees that have no yield whatsoever.
Enter the science of genetic engineering (which has yet to achieve its full potential for awesomeness), as scientists at the University of Illinois are working to produce hermaphrodite papayas that would spawn only more hermaphrodite seeds, removing the guesswork from papaya farming. It’s fitting, as the papaya was the first genetically altered fruit to be approved by the Department of Agriculture for commercial farming, when scientists developed a form of the fruit that was resistant to papaya ringspot virus.
This got me thinking about the morals of genetic engineering. All kidding about dinosaurs aside, this is one clear and practical example of why we need to keep delving into genetics. As developments like this continue, they should be brought into the larger bioethics discussion of cloning and stem cell research. I think that the papaya studies are advancing our understanding of the world, as does the study of stem cells. In overcoming an obstacle, be it farming or Alzheimer’s, we’re better able to appreciate the complexities of life and how much still remains unknown.
On an interesting (and much crasser) side note, the following is an ad that appeared along with the PysOrg.com article. I was too timid to click on the links. Do so at your own risk:
Hermaphrodite Photos – Check 700+ expert shops with top Ratings & save up to 45% now! - hermaphrodite-photos.best-price.com
