A Groan Woman: I had a great night at the paper, coming up with two especially groan-inducing headlines. The first was for a story on Paul McCartney's impending marriage, I wrote, "'Paul is wed'". (My editor added the prefix, "Pretty soon, it'll be".) The second was for a story on the Durst murder case in Texas, where a private eye is having my former backyard dredged in the vain hope of finding a corpse's missing head. (Yes, you read right. My former backyard was Galveston Bay, where my parents had a house by the water.) I wrote, "Durst detective can't get a head". That one actually made an editor from the editorial side of the room--the side where they write the stories--call out approvingly, "Who wrote that?" Looks like I've finally mastered the Post's world-famous style. To mark the occasion, I toasted myself on the way home with an appropriate capper to the evening: two 25¢ bags of Cheez Doodles.

The photo at right has nothing to do with this item; I just thought this column was getting too word-heavy. It's a shot by Stephen Lombardo that was used for the cover of the Anderson Council's excellent album Coloursound.That's me in the chartreuse jacket, pretending to be looking at a Viewmaster card.

The Petite Powerhouse Now Brings You the Headlines...andthe War: The newspaper needs me tonight (I'm one of their on-call copy editors), so I'm off to write tomorrow's headlines. (Someone's gotta do it.) Watch this space to learn which ones were mine. I'm also pleased to report that I am now handling the publicity for Verse Theater Manhattan's March production of "War Music" at the Wings Theatre. Much more news to come on that as well.

Late-Night Sport in the Living Room: I was disappointed earlier this evening when I couldn't get in to see Sport Murphy at the Living Room, a nightclub on the Lower East Side. Technically, I could just get in the door, but the SRO crowd was so jam-packed, with people squeezing by with cigs and drinks, that claustrophobia won out and I went back out onto the street. Not even the generous offer of my neighbor, Irwin Chusid (yes, he of the Langley School CD and WFMU Incorrect Music Hour fame) to give me a ride home could induce me to brave the crush.

To be honest, I had no idea Sport was so popular. Granted, his albums (which sound to me like a painstakingly-arranged amalgam of Van Dyke Parks, Harry Nilsson, Randy Newman, Smile-era Brian Wilson, and the Ink Spots) have earned him a cult following. However, the sort of listeners who are willing focus their attention for one hour on a demanding-but-rewarding CD are not generally the going-out types.

I did stay outside by the door long enough to catch Sport's first number, a characteristically melancholy ballad which somehow managed to borrow unapologetically from Bob Dylan and Stephen Foster--at the same time. Yet, despite my natural aversion to such tongue-in-cheek tricks, I found myself taken in by Sport's deep, soulful voice and the gorgeous, violin-laced arrangement (which sounded impossibly balanced, even after wafting all the way to the street). I had suspected upon hearing his discs that I would like him better live, and now I knew it was true.

Outside, I ran across Home Office Records co-owner Pierre Jelenc, who was one of the few people actually leaving the nightclub. (He'd been there to see the opening band.) His Website has a great feature called the Gigometer, which is the best opinionated guide to upcoming New York City-area live music shows.

Here Comes That Grainy Day Feeling Again: On Valentine's Day, I'm trying to remember the most romantic moment of my life. I think it was when a man whom I had longed for from a distance surprised me one evening by kissing me for the first time, on an island shore. I'm not talking a tropical island--it was part of a large city--but we were in a secluded place, sitting on the sand and looking over the water, and it was very romantic. When I had a birthday a couple of weeks later, he wrote in the card he gave me, "STILL shaking the sand out of my pockets."

The Nose Knows: One of the most (unfortunately) memorable quotes I have heard about love was opined by a waitress at Bunny's Pizza'N'Booze and former high school classmate of my mother's: "I told my teenage daughter, 'You'll know it's love when you and your boyfriend can exchange snots and not think it's disgusting.'"

Getting By on Rooks: On this Saturday, the 16th (the night before Ryan's 40th--see next entry), the Rooks return to the stage with a 9 p.m. gig at the East Village's Sidewalk Cafe (which, as always, has no cover charge). The show is advertised as "the lighter side of the Rooks". I'm sorry to say that I don't think that means Dave Berg is going to be there. (Is he still even alive? He asked my mother out once, but that's another story. By the way, that link will lead you to a bizarre essay accusing Berg of pioneering postmodernism.) However, it probably does mean that the group will be performing their softer tunes, ones that rarely get an airing when they play such venues as Manitoba's and Luna.

When the Rooks' last album, A Wishing Well, was released, I wrote in Offoffoff.com (warning: abominable puns ahead):
Like its namesake, it bears up a storehouse of coinage in the form of hooks and harmonies — some glittering, some dull--along with chiming guitars and bittersweet vocal turns, some sparkling new, others sounding as though they were unearthed from deep within wistful record collectors' pockets. Mazzarella, who co-produces as well as sings and writes, sounds like he came out on the losing end of one too many tosses as he tries in songs like "Happenstance" and "Vows" to make heads or tails of broken relationships. When his lyrics are as sharp and cohesive as his dazzlingly intricate arrangements, as in "Do You Have God" — "Do you have God, 'cause you don't have me to curse at anymore?"--the results are almost illegally tender, but there is no denying their genuine currency.

Glorifyin' Ryan: I like it when people throw parties for themselves. Richard Ryan (whom I mentioned in an earlier entry) celebrates his 40th birthday this Sunday, February 17, with a party at the John Street Bar & Grill that is a benefit for his theater company, Verse Theater Manhattan. He's put up a beautiful Web site to promote the event--with its own domain, yet: www.ryans40th.com. There is a suggested cover charge--$20--but it's a voluntary donation, and all attendees receive tickets to Verse Theater Manhattan's upcoming revival of its highly-praised production of Christopher Logue's "War Music". By the way, if you see a woman wearing a day-glo pink muu-muu taking donations at the door, it's me. Or, if you see a woman wearing a Barbarella-like see-through PVC corset, a fedora, and spats taking donations at the door, it's me. Well, actually, I haven't decided what I'm wearing yet, but, if you see a woman wearing anything or nothing taking donations at the door, it's me. (In the interest of avoiding false advertising, I should add that "nothing" is not really an option--at least, not if the current weather pattern continues.)

De cogitando ac bibendo optimi inferiores nobis: I believe that's Latin for "we can outhink and outdrink all others". It's the motto of The New York City Chesterton Society, whose monthly meeting I attended last night. The group is made up of fans (ranging from casual readers to true fanatics) of the great British writer and thinker G.K. Chesterton. I've been attending the meetings for nearly a year. It's a fun bunch of people, and we laugh a lot. We meet in the Hell's Kitchen apartment of Robert Paolucci, who is the only former monk I know who was also a member of 1950s vocal group the Jamies. (He joined just after their lone hit, "Summertime, Summertime".)

At last night's meeting, Kevin Flaherty gave a commentary on the evening's topic, Chapter 3 of The Everlasting Man. I actually enjoyed his commentary more than the actual chapter. While Chesterton's ideas in it are often brilliant and his language witty, at that late point in his career, he badly needed an editor. The book is full of instances where he used several sentences to amplify a point where one would do. However, on this point I appear to be in the minority among Chesterton fans, as many of them cite The Everlasting Man as his best. The book was certainly one of C.S. Lewis's favorites, and I believe he had it in mind when he wrote, "A young man who wishes to remain a sound atheist cannot be too careful of his reading."

Tusk, Tusk: Forgot to mention in that last entry that one of the Post's copy editors suggested a perfect headline for the story about the stampeding elephant: Trunk and disorderly.

Making Headlines: As predicted, I made the headlines of today's newspaper. Well, only one, to be exact--two of the stories for which I wrote headlines didn't make it in--but I also did copy-editing and had about as good a time as one can have while working. (I'm an on-call copy editor there.) You'll find my contribution on page 2: "Experts: Economy Will Swing in Spring".

There's a great atmosphere at the paper. Although it's busy, the people there have a sense of humor. (They have to, to write headlines like the one about Kurt Masur conducting "Tristan und Isolde": "Masur 'Tristan' the night away".) Last night, one copy editor was amused by a story about an elephant stampeding through a market in Bangladesh, leading some of us to make elephant jokes. My contribution was, "How can you tell when an elephant's been through a Bangladesh market? By the footprints in the curry."

"We're Too Nice": That was syndicated columnist Deroy Murdock's message at last night's meeting of the Junto, a group that, according to its literature, is "generally concerned with libertarianism, Objectivism, and investing." (They also "believe strongly in the appreciation of the sanctity of life, liberty, and property.") The meeting was at the Liedenkranz Club, on the Upper East Side.

Before Murdock gave his message, attendees were treated to a speech from Sam Sloan, who is running for the Bedford-Stuyvesant seat in the State Assembly. Not being familiar with Sloan, I found him strange and often hilarious. He is an extremely unprepossessing man who spins the most outrageous stories. He claims that, in 1978, he became the only non-lawyer to argue a case before the Supreme Court--I think it was The SEC vs. Sam Sloan--and he won. However, he was not able to enjoy his victory, as, at the time it was handed down, he was imprisoned in Afghanistan as a suspected spy.

When Sloan said that his eight children came from five mothers, Junto leader Victor Niederhoffer, whose job is apparently to sit in the back and throw verbal curve balls at the speakers, asked his one great question of the evening: How did he have such a way with women? It was a reasonable query, and Sloan gave it some thought. One of his answers was that many women were impressed with the fact that he owned his own home.

For some reason, I found this extremely funny. Now, normally, I have a loud laugh. In this case, since I couldn't erupt in public, all that bottled laughter zoomed to my right foot. So my high heel pounded on the floor like a horse counting to six. I will probably not be invited to a Junto meeting again.

Murdock followed Sloan, giving an entertaining and well-reasoned speech that began with examples of why conservatives and libertarians were "too nice," and moved on to suggestions on how they could better argue their viewpoints. He also put forth the standard libertarian positions on drug legalization and gay marriage, views which, while I didn't agree with them, were well-articulated nonetheless. To support his views, he worked in a quote from Jerry Garcia, confirming what I'd heard about his being a devoted Deadhead. (Now, give me someone who can argue for drug legalization and gay marriage from the point of view of the Four Seasons and I'll really be impressed.)

After the meeting, Sam Sloan approached me and I got scared, thinking I was going to be chided for my equine percussion. Instead, he surprised me--and gave a clue to his way with women--by telling me that I looked like an old girlfriend of his. Not just any old girlfriend, mind you, but the one he got into the August 1967 issue of Playboy. Naturally, I was complimented; fashionwise, I've been stuck on the August 1967 look for the past 17 years. (When I got home, I checked the photos of the woman, which Sloan has conveniently put up on his Web site, and, funnily enough, there is a resemblance.)

When the Liedenkranz Club switched off the lights on us, J.R. Taylor and I headed with some friends of Deroy Murdock to a nearby restaurant. There, freelance writer Jeremy Hildreth told us of his impending trip to the South Sea island of Pukapuka, where he plans to live for a month with the natives. At that news, I tried unsuccessfully to picture him in a loincloth and puka shells. The image wasn't funny enough to cause any further wear to my right heel, but it still made me smile. Jeremy's last full-time job was as a senior economic analyst for Skandia.

Let Cooler Heds Prevail: I am very happy to report that, assuming I pull off the job I'm supposed to do Sunday night, all signs point to my making the headlines of Monday's paper. (Just which headlines I can't say right now.)

Manhattan Cable Nights:"There's something about sitting down for a chat with [W magazine's] Merle Ginsberg that's irresistible." Reading those words in today's Liz Smith column, I was reminded that I myself have sat down on Ginsberg's couch, but not when she was there. Both she and I have been interviewers for Manhattan Cable's "Videowave," which celebrates its 20th anniversary on February 20.

"Videowave" producer Alan Abramowitz was a real music video pioneer, debuting the show before MTV was even available on Manhattan Cable. I started interviewing bands for the show in 1988 and later branched out to do a regular editorial as well, "Obsessing With Dawn Eden". (My 1995 Obsession on the Wonderbra got the most mail.) Over the years, I've interviewed such notables as David Gray, Kirsty MacColl, Ofra Haza, Dick Dale, and the great Sixties soul singer Gloria Jones for the show. The photo at right, taken at a 1991 taping, shows me (in a rather embarrassing outfit) in bed with Buzzcocks members Pete Shelley and (grinning) Steve Diggle. The production schedule has slowed in recent years--I haven't done any new interviews since 2000--but I did a couple of Obsessions last year.

"Videowave" is on every Monday night at 11 p.m. on Channel 67 on Time Warner Cable and Channel 110 on RCN Cable. The next interviews of mine that will air are repeats of the two most recent ones I did: Canadian power-popsters Sloan (airing February 18) and Guided By Voices (done a few months after I interviewed singer Robert Pollard for Salon) (airing March 4).

Those Conservatives Can Get Pretty Wiggy: Went to the Fabiani Society last night with J.R. Taylor. (The link will take you to J.R.'s latest New York Press article, an enlightening piece on the ghostwriter of Muhammad Ali's poems.) Saw lots of regulars (and missed a couple--Gerry Robbins and John Zmirak, phone home), and congratulated John Appelbaum on his great piece of satire that appears in today's OpinionJournal Best of the Web column. Since the column may no longer be up when you read this, I'll reprint the relevant portion here, starting with editor James Taranto's headline and introduction:

Not Serious Enough to Be a Kangaroo Court

The Las Vegas Sun carries this peculiar dispatch from Porto Allegre, Brazil, where people who couldn't get invited to the World Economic Forum are holding a "Social Forum":

A "court" composed of figures from developing nations ruled that the $1.8 trillion Third World debt was illegal and should be forgiven.The "Court on Foreign Debt," sponsored by activist group Jubilee South, also charged lenders--including the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund--with genocide and pillaging debtor nations, spokesman Alejandro Bendana said Sunday.

This prompts reader John Appelbaum to write:

For years, I have been holding "court" in the "basement" of "my mother's house" in Florida. I have a nice bench right next to the washer and dryer, a black robe, a mallet that I made back in wood shop, and a genuine horsehair wig that cost me almost $19 down at Love's Notions'n'Things. The court sessions are frequently attended by grassroots figures from the neighborhood, especially when the county parole board is feeling lenient or there is a hiring freeze at Dunkin' Donuts.

The court has heard many cases, and made rulings regarding most world figures. For example, last year I sentenced Fidel Castro to life in prison for crimes against humanity, overturned the Concordat of Worms and all decisions of the Council of Westphalia, found O.J. guilty, and granted lifetime immunity from prosecution to Augusto Pinochet. I send my rulings to all affected parties by registered mail, and, while none have replied so far (for some reason, all letters to Frederick of Bavaria keep getting returned), I am confident they are just trying to delay the inevitable day of reckoning.

So here's my question: What the hell do I have to do to get some press coverage?

John, you've got it!

Looking for Glass? Just got an e-mail from my friend Michael Lynch notifying me that Just the Right Sound: The Association Anthology (Rhino), for which I wrote the liner notes, is now available for preorders on Amazon.com. Its official release date is February 19. Writes Michael of Amazon's rendering of the collection's track listing: "I am so glad to see they are including my favorite Association song, 'Looking For Glass'. Yes, haven't I always said that 'Looking For Glass' was their best? Can't wait to hear the new digitally remastered version of 'Looking For Glass'." Better than that, Michael, it's the single version of "Looking for Glass", with the solo lead vocal. (The song is actually called "Looking Glass". All the more reason to buy the anthology not from some preposition-happy Seattle-based e-tailer, but rather from an independently-owned record store, like NYC's Rockit Scientist.)

Schmoozin' Up the Hacks in Grandma's Groovy Jacket: If you visit the party-photos page at Mediabistro, you'll find a photo of me affecting an ultra-attentive expression with a couple of people I met at the party that the Website held at CBGB's Lounge last Tuesday. I went to the party (which was to celebrate the paperback release of two rock biographies) with my friends Janet Rosen and Ron Geraci (you'll find Ron in one of the pics as well). We met Entertainment Weekly film critic Owen Gleiberman, who, when I told him about one of my recent Rhino assignments, had some appreciative words to say about the Association. He said that he'd just seen a film called "Cherish" at Sundance, and that the best thing about it was its title song, the Association classic. He made a great point about how the song captured a feeling of devotion that few songs do today. I also ran into playwright Jonathan Leaf (a fellow Fabiani Society regular), who was at the party with producer Richard Ryan of Verse Theater Manhattan. Richard was talking about his company's next production, "War Music" (which their Website calls "the first of Christopher Logue's savage modern verse adaptations of Homer's Trojan War epic, the Iliad"). James Taranto observed that I was "the only rock writer" at the party, which was almost true, though Entertainment Weekly's David Browne (whose Jeff and Tim Buckley bio "Dream Brother" was one of the books being feted) was there, and a couple of others show up in the Mediabistro photos.

Got My Mojo Workin': While I search for a full-time job, I've been fortunate to get some fab, gear, and, yes, ginchy freelance writing gigs. On February 19, Rhino will release its two-CD Association anthology, for which I penned the liner notes. The label has also assigned me to write the liner notes to the Monkees volume of its Essentials series. For Mojo, I have a news item coming up in the March issue on the John Lennon Collection of baby products (including the popular John Lennon Diaper Stacker), plus a feature in their upcoming Beatles special issue on the group's last concert. With the latter piece, I was fortunate to interview two members of bands who opened for the Beatles on their last tour, Barry Tashian of the Remains and Tom Dawes of the Cyrkle. And I make my New Jersey Monthly debut in the March issue with a story in their "Garden Variety" section on my neighbor Chris Butler's latest project, Kilopop!

Eden in Gotham: I'll be at a couple of social/political gatherings in Manhattan this week: the Fabiani Society on Tuesday, February 5, at 6 p.m. at the Princeton Club (43rd St. near 5th Ave.), and the Junto on Thursday, February 7, at 7 p.m. at the Liedenkranz Club (6 E.87th St.). John Stossel will be speaking at the former, and Deroy Murdock at the latter.

Do You Remember Back in Old L.A.? Will the upcoming film "Scotland, PA" do for my friend John Carter what "Pulp Fiction" did for Dick Dale? I just saw a trailer for the film, and, while it looks pretty dire ("Macbeth" set in a Pennsylvania diner during the 1970s, with the french-fry cooker as the murder weapon of choice), it does prominently feature "Beach Baby," the 1974 hit that Carter wrote and produced for the First Class. So I hope the film's a hit, if only so that "Beach Baby" becomes the soundtrack of the spring.

I wrote a love letter to John Carter's music in the July 2001 issue of Fufkin.com. Here's the part where I raved about that glorious tune (warning: unbridled gushing ahead):

Scientists often do research on addictions by training laboratory animals to press a button whenever they want a certain drug that is suspected to be addictive. Lacking controlled substances, I have done similar experiments at home with my CD player's repeat button. They confirmed my longtime suspicion that "Beach Baby" is aural heroin. Once you have popped it into your CD player [it sounds especially hot on Varese Vintage's Tony Burrows comp], it becomes frighteningly easy to just keep pressing the "back" button when it ends. (Or do like me and save yourself the trouble; just program the track to "repeat".) There's so much going on in that mix, from the "Good Vibrations" organ note that opens it, to the evocative French horn riff (which Strawberry Switchblade used to add some readymade wistfulness to their UK Top Five hit "Since Yesterday"), to the kitchen-sink fade (where you can even hear John Carter singing the hook from the Flowerpot Men's "Let's Go to San Francisco"). Moreover, the whole thing's so damn bright. Even on CD, it jumps out of the speakers the way God intended 45s to do.