M is for Myg

the new dance floor at Clockwork

Let me tell you a secret. Are you ready? The secret is this: you’re not who you say you are. You’re a secret agent. You’re in disguise. You have a secret mission.

Remember that night in Monaco when you almost ran me over in your Veyron? You were with a strange man. What was in that envelope? Did you think my feelings were hurt when you pretended not to know me?

I know what you’ll say: that your little cat-and-mouse games are for the good of humankind. That jelly doughnut is a radio transmitter. They implanted cyanide capsules in your teeth. Your cybernetic eyes give you x-ray vision. Your telephoto lens is really a gun and your gun is really a telephoto lens. If not for you, the earth’s core would have exploded last week, the population of Eastern Europe would have been wiped out by a brain-eating virus, and Fort Knox would have been blasted into space by a deranged ex-president.

Well, my friend, I will tell you another secret: I’m an agent, too — a double-agent — and my mission is to make you think you’re a secret agent. Yep, that’s right. That recruiting office in Moscow where you signed up? A front! Those filing cabinets were empty and that “mental aptitude test” was just a ruse (uh, not that your score was actually the “highest in recorded history,” either). That first “mission” in Caracas? A carefully orchestrated set-up: there was no atom bomb in Martín’s suitcase, no heroin in the soccer balls, no kidnapped US senator, and no zombie army controlled by an evil mastermind — just local university students who thought they were extras in a horror film. And, no, you didn’t stop the planet from exploding, invent a cure for a brain-eating virus, or defuse any giant rocket-blasters on Fort Knox. I’m sorry.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, like I said, I’m a double-agent. The forces who employ me wanted you distracted, and then your ego crushed when you realized none of it was real. You’d have become a babbling idiot, no one would believe your crazy stories, and you’d spend the rest of your life in a straightjacket. Not a bad plan, actually. My employers think you’re dangerous.

But what’s really been happening? Sure, it’s all been fake, but the fact is that I’ve been training you to be the world’s most dangerous secret agent — and it’s worked. Every obstacle, every enemy, every false clue I’ve put in your path? You’ve brushed them aside with your steely aplomb. No, you didn’t stop the planet from exploding, but you would have if it had been going to.

I’m telling you because your training is over. Congratulations. I wish we had time for a party. The fact is that now that I’ve told you, I may not have much time. In fact, I hear someone coming up the stairs now: a lurching limp, the smell of Egyptian cigarettes. Don’t let me down, kid. Get out there — the world needs saving. It needs it bad. Go!

___________________________________

Funk me, it’s Friday! | 28 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

James Brown: Nose Job
Freddie & The Kinfolk: Blabbermouth
Jesse Anderson: Mighty Mighty
Lefties Soul Connection: The Chank
The Pinker Tones: One of Them
Georges Deligny: Panique au salon (Grooveblaster remix)
Ingram: Get Your Stuff Off
Misterholmes & The Brotherhood: Thrift Store Find
Sonido Lasser Drakkar: Pontiac Firebird ‘82
Underground Maniatikas: Lean Like A Chola
Amalgamated Funk Co.: I Wanna Take You Out
The Brothers Johnson: Come Together
Mad Dog & The Pups: Hep Squeeze (Party Time)
Main Source: Fakin the Funk
Orgone: No More Gravy
The Politicians: Love Machine (Instrumental)
Pacha Massive: Don’t Let Go
The Falcons: I Can’t Help It

A new viewer. I have to admit I don’t know you anymore. Is it me? Where once I saw a person, now I just see fragments. Which makes me wonder what you see. The same Esteban Moody you saw before or just the wreckage of evolution? Eyeball-machine connected to perception-machine connected to ideology-machine all squishing away in there like clockwork? Just bouncing around like billiard balls you and me and the rest? I take a stone from the left pocket of my great-coat. I watch the evening news and it makes me angry. Someone is calling on the telephone.

This is the latest news in science. As usual, a hundred years behind. I saw a doe and her fawns still behind the trees, then they silently bounded out of sight. The point is that it
doesn’t bother me in the least. Quite frankly, it’s reassuring to see the rest of the world finally getting it. Look, that old way of thinking was just getting in the way, like you were Captain Kirk sitting on the bridge of the Enterprise in your head barking orders at Sulu to make the arm and the hand move to pick up a glass of water and telling Spock to finish up those budget reports for Wednesday? Remember how you were always tuning into the evil Kirk or fighting the you from another dimension or switching bodies with that chick? Well, it turns out that was the real you all along.

In here, we’re cool with that. Some days I have the head of a giant rabbit. I change the color of my skin. We’ve always been cool with that. The philosophy of it, the psychology, the epistemology — you know, the whole enchilada.

So why you gotta make me buy a new graphics card? Oh noes!

[photo: Chestnut Rau]

___________________________________

Dear Esteban,

Stop calling me Kelvin.

Love,

The Sun

___________________________________

Two podcasts for the price of one!

Funk me, it’s Friday! | 21 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Jimmy Smith: Mission Impossible
Mandrill: Fat City Strut
The Boogaloo Investigators: Let The Groove Move You
Diamond Uprisers: Diamond Jerk (New Kind of Jerk)
The Pointer Sisters: Yes We Can, Can
Ebony Vibe Everlasting: We Are Family
Freddie & The Kinfolk: The Goat
The Fabulous Counts: Lunar Funk
The Capitols: Afro-Twist
James Brown: Devil’s Den (Live)
Billy Preston: Gospel Groove
Lo-Fidelity Allstars: Tied To The Mast
Black Star: Astronomy (8th Light)
The Buena Vistas: Soul Clappin
Broad Street Gang: 12th Street Man
Syl Johnson: Don’t Give It Away
Sugar Billy: Super Duper Love Pt1
Sugar Billy: Super Duper Love Pt2
Bea Ford & James Brown: You’ve Got The Power

Funk me, it’s Friday! | 28 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

James Brown: Night Train
The O’Jays: Love Train
Xavier: Work That Sucker To Death
Chris Joss: Get With It
The Apples: Killing
Chuck D & the SLAMjamz Artist Revue: Soul Power
Fred Wesley & The J.B.’s: More Peas
The Snugs: Strugglin’ (Original)
Lack of Afro: Pure Filth
Soul Toranodoes: Go For Yourself
Speedometer: Straight
Stevie Wonder: Signed, Sealed, Delivered
Sam Cooke: (Somebody) Ease My Troublin’ Mind

Aussieangel, me, Bambie, and Guen rockin’ out at Clockwork

You’re a rock star, honey. I’m a rock star. That kid on the bus today was a rock star. Everyone’s a goddamn rock star. Why? Because we rock. That’s called logic.

I’m not talking about a video game; I’m not talking about some shit in a can. It’s not a fantasy. I’m talking about the raw power, the super sexual charge, the joyful charisma that you radiate just by getting up in the morning. Teenagers chase you down the street. They know your songs by heart. I’m wearing a t-shirt with your face on it.

Everybody loves you. Even snotty talk show hosts giggle when you flash a smile. Your parents apologize for all the grief they gave you for dropping out of school. You look good in spandex.

But you’re a different kind of rock star, you know. You’re not fueled by insecurity and you’re not an egomaniac. I know you don’t make a lot of money. You don’t trash hotel rooms. You’re not going to die by choking on your own vomit. You won’t end up a pathetic dinosaur pimping out your own brilliance for quick cash.

Here you come, walking down the street. The sun glints off your mirrored shades. There’s a rock n roll soundtrack for the world today, and everything’s gonna be all right.

Remember that fantasy you have of me in a cheerleader’s uniform dancing on a leopard-skin chair? Well, you’re going to be disappointed that you missed this past Monday night at Clockwork. The game was “Should It Stay Or Should It Go,” which consisted of me pulling out random items from my inventory and those in attendance voting “Stay” or “Go.” (The cheerleader uniform was a “stay,” the leopard chair a “go.”) Other items of note:

Viking Helmet: Go
Cowboy Hat: Go
Bondage Table: Stay
Sex Chair: Go (too tacky)
Long blue hair: Go
Checkered jacket: Stay
Squirrel on face: Go
Dog that ran away: [ran away]
White lollypop: stay
Something that was called a shirt but was really just kind of a trapezoid on my boobs, WTF?: Go
“Irish woman undershirt”: Go

But besides that, the music! What will you hear? Well, put it this way, when we all get to Heaven and they’re passing out the ‘77 Camaros and GTO’s, the leather jackets, and the combat boots, this is what will be playing on the car stereos. The ecstatic glory of rock n roll.

The fun usually starts around 6:30ish SLT and goes for a couple of hours.

I’m Esteban Moody and I paid for this ad.

Kill City | 24 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Ted Nugent: Free For All
Sweet: The Ballroom Blitz
Kiss: Strutter
Journey: Any Way You Want It
The Patti Smith Group: So You Want To Be (A Rock ‘n’ Roll Star)
Radio Birdman: Descent into the Maelstrom
The Modern Lovers: Pablo Picasso
T. Rex: The Groover
Motley Crue: Too Young to Fall in Love
Naked Raygun: Peacemaker
Sex Pistols: Holidays In The Sun
Gang Of Four: Armalite Rifle
The Psychedelic Furs: Sister Europe
Thunderclap Newman: Something in the Air
Queen: Look Back In Anger
The Aliens: The Interpreter
Motorhead: Ace of spades
The Meatmen: Mission:Impossible
The Dickies: You Drive Me Ape (You Big Gorilla)
New York Dolls: Trash
Jerry McCain: Next Door Neighbour
Wanda Jackson: Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On
Buddy Holly : Oh Boy
Buddy Holly: Ting-A-Ling
Gene Vincent & The Bluecaps: Red Blue Jeans and a Pony Tail
Cliffie Stone: Jump Rope Boogie
Peck Rowell: Take It Easy Greasy
Bob Dylan: Positively 4th St.
The Fugs: I Saw The Best Minds Of My Generation Rock
The Vibrators: Baby Baby
The Ramones: Carbona Not Glue
The Jam: The Modern World
The Buzzcocks: Orgasm Addict
The Three O’Clock: Jet Fighter
Thavius Beck: (Music Will Be) The Death Of Us All
Billy Thorpe: Children Of The Sun
The Beatles: All You Need Is Love

Dear Sun,

Sometimes I think it strange that I continue to write to you — or even that we have corresponded at all. Here I am, a hermaphrodite DJ in Second Life, you, a giant ball of fire 93 million miles away. You are 4.5 billion years old, and the temperature at your core reaches 13 million degrees Kelvin. In the morning, your rays stream through the slats on my venetian blinds and illuminate the little constellation of dust floating above the glass of water on my bedside table.

I saw you yesterday — warm and bright in the afternoon sky. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see you. The winter here is gray and overcast. (Remember what I told you about the atmosphere here — all nitrogen and oxygen!!) Did you see me? I know you can barely make out my little speck of a home, but I jumped and waved anyway.

O Sun, here’s the reason for my writing: did you know that some days — today, for example, I have trouble going on? The simplest things seem a struggle — and thus of course they are a struggle. I feel like some hero of classical myth beset by enemies, confounded by obstacles — like Dorothy in the field of poppies, for example:

They now came upon more and more of the big scarlet poppies, and fewer and fewer of the other flowers; and soon they found themselves in the midst of a great meadow of poppies. Now it is well known that when there are many of these flowers together their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes it falls asleep, and if the sleeper is not carried away from the scent of the flowers, he sleeps on and on forever. But Dorothy did not know this, nor could she get away from the bright red flowers that were everywhere about; so presently her eyes grew heavy and she felt she must sit down to rest and to sleep.

But the Tin Woodman would not let her do this.

“We must hurry and get back to the road of yellow brick before dark,” he said; and the Scarecrow agreed with him. So they kept walking until Dorothy could stand no longer. Her eyes closed in spite of herself and she forgot where she was and fell among the poppies, fast asleep.

“What shall we do?” asked the Tin Woodman.

“If we leave her here she will die,” said the Lion. “The smell of the flowers is killing us all. I myself can scarcely keep my eyes open, and the dog is asleep already.”

It was true; Toto had fallen down beside his little mistress. But the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, not being made of flesh, were not troubled by the scent of the flowers.

“Run fast,” said the Scarecrow to the Lion, “and get out of this deadly flower bed as soon as you can. We will bring the little girl with us, but if you should fall asleep you are too big to be carried.”

So the Lion aroused himself and bounded forward as fast as he could go. In a moment he was out of sight.

“Let us make a chair with our hands and carry her,” said the Scarecrow. So they picked up Toto and put the dog in Dorothy’s lap, and then they made a chair with their hands for the seat and their arms for the arms and carried the sleeping girl between them through the flowers.

The poppies are inside me, of course, a vast, lush and colorful field rooted deep in the soil of me. My internal Tin Woodman and Scarecrow are there too, most of the time, to carry the Dorothy of me through to the next clearing, but always the lion of me is left behind. He runs, but the flimsy poppies always get him.

Do you remember, Sun, how the lion is saved? The Tin Woodman saves the life of the queen of the field mice by beheading a wildcat — and so her squeaky little subjects, tens of thousands of them, express their gratitude by pulling the lion out of the field on a wagon that the Woodman fashions from nearby trees. Each of them brings a bit of string with which to make a rope.

O Sun, where are the field mice of me? Today, did my Tin Woodman miss and chop off his own head instead of the wildcat’s? (Do you remember that the Woodman beheaded himself once? It was the last of him, I think, to be chopped off and replaced with tin.) Without them, my lion slumbers on to death!

Sometimes, without the mice, a certain music will rouse the lion, for I am Esteban Moody, purveyor of the true funk. Praise the lion with the sound of the trumpet: praise him with the psaltery and harp! Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise him with stringed instruments and organs! Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise him upon the high sounding cymbals!

But today the music is not working, so I write to ask your help. O Sun, help me to open the heavy lids of the cowardly beast! I know a piece of your great fire burns inside him. Will you make it burn bright and and hot enough to wake him? In the distance I can see the tall turrets of the Emerald City, but without my lion I am helpless.

Love,

Esteban

Funk me, it’s Friday! | 14 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

The Deacons: Sock It To Me Part I
The Deacons: Sock It To Me Part II
G.R.I.T.S.: Jan Jan
Groove Armada: I See You Baby (Fatboy Slim Mix)
Run-D.M.C.: Sucker MC’s
Cookin On 3 Burners feat. Kylie Auldist: Settle The Score
James Brown: Hot (I Need To Be Loved, Loved, Loved, Loved)
Jackie Moore: Singing Funky Music Turns Me On
The Jaggerz: Born Poor
Ides of Time: K-Car for Sale
Bonnie Pointer: Free Me From My Freedom/Tie Me to a Tree (Handcuff Me)
Laura Lee: Women’s Love Rights
Georgie Fame: Beware of Dog
Jackie Mittoo: Ghetto Organ
The Lions: Givin Up Food For Jah
Johnny Hammond: It’s Too Late
Jackie Wilson: You Left the Fire Burning
The North Philadelphia Juniors: I Know Jesus Is Calling
Brenda Holloway: Every Little Bit Hurts

Dear Myg,

You know I know how it feels. How does it work? We want one thing; we do another. Who’s in charge? Who’s the commanding officer here? I remember when I quit smoking: there was one in my hand again, even though I had told myself no.

I told myself no. Funny that that even makes sense. Why would the I need to tell the self? Isn’t it supposed to be the self in the first place? I told myself no, but my self did it anyway.

The usual story is this: the self does it anyway because the self lives in a fantasy world — or wants so much to live in a fantasy world it acts as if the fantasy were real. When my mother died, my father took us back to Ireland and turned to the drink. My great-grandmother made him dandelion tea for his nerves. On May Day, she scattered primrose petals on the stoop and smiled at me sideways. “So the fairies leave the cows alone,” she said. Some flowers were not allowed in the house and she cured the dog’s limp with comfrey and vinegar. One night my father fell into a ditch on the Shangarry Road and was attacked by a swan — a pen defending her chicks. After that night, he never swallowed a drop.

But what if it were the other way ’round? What if the self’s drive for addiction were its way not of striving for fantasy but of holding up a mirror to Real Life? Everywhere we look, the world tells us to surrender to addiction. Television. Sex. Money. Youth. In Real Life, addiction is what it means to be alive. It follows — doesn’t it? — that Second Life is where we keep addiction at bay. Of course these things are tricky, and sometimes with what’s Real and what’s Second, we may lose track of the wisdom to know the difference.

When in doubt, I look for the ditch with a swan in it.

Love,

Esteban

Funk me, it’s Friday! | 29 February 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Wild Cherry: I Feel Sanctified
Brothers Johnson: Get The Funk Out My Face
The Isley Brothers: It’s Your Thing
Room 5 Featuring Oliver Cheatham: Make Luv (Extended Mix)
Prince: Kiss
Tom Tom Club: Genius Of Love
Fred Wesley & The J.B.’s: J.B. Shout
The Unemployed: They Won’t Let Me
Calypso King & The Soul Investigators: Raw Grapes
Chambers Brothers: Funky
Voices of East Harlem: For What It’s Worth
Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings: How Long Do I Have To Wait For You? (Ticklah Remix)
Stevie Wonder: Maybe Your Baby
Aretha Franklin: Groovin’

Funk me, it’s Friday! | 7 March 2008: play or right-click here to download.
Set list:

Earl Van Dyke & the Soul Brothers: The Flick Part I
Earl Van Dyke & the Soul Brothers: The Flick Part II
The Delegates: Pigmy Part 1
The Delegates: Pigmy Part 2
James Brown: Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag [Parts I and II] [instrumental]
James Brown: I’m a Greedy Man (Parts 1 & 2)
The J.B.’s: The Grunt (Parts 1 & 2)
Rufus Thomas: The Breakdown (Part I)
Rufus Thomas: The Breakdown (Part II)
Bobby Franklin’s Insanity: Bring It On Down to Me - Pt I
Bobby Franklin’s Insanity: Bring It On Down to Me - Pt II
Vicki Anderson: The Message from the Soul Sisters (Parts 1 & 2)
Isley Brothers: That Lady (Parts 1 & 2)
Billy Preston: Greazee Part I & II
Lou Donaldson: Funky Mama [Parts 1 & 2]
Don Covay and the Goodtimers: Can’t Stay Away

With Myg & Burgess out sick this past week, it’s been a little quiet around the ol’ M is for Myg office. Sure, Sable and Rain traipse in to pick up their checks, but they’ve got the location assignments, got it? They’re not in the office. The wardrobe people, makeup, photographers — it’s like a goddamn traveling party. I’ll tag along sometimes, see if I can score some free champagne and chat up the catering staff, but after a while someone will say “shouldn’t you be writing something?” BTW, did you know they get to keep all those clothes?

Back at the office, it’s the same four desks and broken coffee machine. And that memo from Myg. “Only one comment on that last post, Esteban. Perhaps turn down the mystical psychobabble just a tad?” Toughest editor I ever had.

“Well, Moody,” I tell myself, “You didn’t become a writer for the money or the fame, right?” And then I realize I’m goddamn talking to myself. Jesus, better go for a cup of coffee. Maybe someone will be down at the club.

And who’s Myg to tell me what to write? I write the truth, goddamnit! And if the uneducated masses can’t handle it, well I guess she’d better just fire me!

Hold on, Moody. You need this gig. DJ’ing isn’t paying the rent yet. And besides, who else is going to give you free reign to go on about your little theories week after week? And think how many times Myg & Burgess have saved your ass, bailed you out, given you a place to crash? You’re not angry at Myg, Moody; you’re angry at yourself. You’ve always wanted to be more accessible, remember? What are you afraid of, anyway?

Shhhh. Talking to yourself again.

funk for the masses | 22 February 2008: play or right-click here to download.

Set list:

Donny Hathaway: The Ghetto - Part 1
Donny Hathaway: The Ghetto - Part 2
Rufus & Chaka Khan: You Got The Love
The Commodores: Slippery When Wet
Earth Wind & Fire: Help Somebody
Bee Gees: Boogie Child
Christina Aguilera, Lil’ Kim, Mya & Pink: Lady Marmalade
DJ Krush: Keeping The Motion
Chris Joss: I Want Freedom
Eugene Blacknell: We Know We Have to Live Together
The Counts: Thinking Single
Ike And Tina Turner: Ghetto Funk
Mighty Flea: Ode To Billy Joe Pt1
Funkadelic: Funky Dollar Bill
The Rollers: Knockin’ At The Wrong Door
Christina Aguilera: It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World