Chicken Fried - has moved to alexvcook.com

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Lunch tonight was: Carnitas, carnne asada and pollo tacos from the place by the Harley Davidson store. Washed down with a half litre Mexican coke!

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Alex V. Cook is an author, journalist and music critic living Baton Rouge, LA. His work has appeared in The Believer, The Oxford American, DownBeat, Paste Magazine, Hails and Horns and The Wire, and his first collection of essays Darkness, Racket and Twang: Essential Listening from the Fringes of Popular and Unpopular Culture was published by Side Cartel in 2006.

He is the music editor for outsideleft.com, editor for Sweet Tooth, and a frequent contributor to 225 Magazine, OffBeat and Country Roads.

He is a founding contributor to the Badasses of Contemporary Composition blog.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

There in Your Car, You Would Feel Safest of All Too


According to a recent interview in The Irish Times, Gary Numan's alienation shtick was partly due to his having Asperger's syndrome, a style of anti-social autism, and never smiled because he was embarassed by his giant teeth.

Here is the full interview http://www.ireland.com/theticket/articles/2006/0811/1154691568928.html

Not jumping on any bandwagon or boasting or anything, but I was an immediate adopter of Gary Numan back in 1981 or whatever, my little "Cars" 45 sitting alongside Rod Stewart and the Police and my step-brother's BlackSabbath and Grand Funk Railroad records. I felt his disconnect in my own inability to play well with others, without being to articulate such as a very awkward 10-year old. I felt safest in all in cars (BA-bump, buh BA BA-bump deedle EEP)

The melody from "Cars" was one of the first things I ever figured out on guitar, and the metal-head co-worker identified it immediately and forebade me ever to play it again in his presence, but that's OK. With headphones, distortion pedals and cavernous reverb, it brings back the cold comfort I found in that music.

He played here in town about 8-9 years ago at the goth night at some horrible nightclub that has transformed into countless other horrible nightclubs since, and among the many regrets I have from that era, not going to see him is one of them. Not that I think it woudlve been life-altering or anything, but it might have brought about my resolve to be true to that what the Lord made me. Maybe I tuly was a disaffected freak who felt his life was lived in a fishtank, and maybe I was not the only one. I heard from a girlfriend that did attend that it was rather embarassing - and this was at a goth night , mind you - so maybe its all for the best.

Check this out: It's his car. If I had crazy lottery money, I would buy that car, install it in a pure white, climate controlled garage with no door, just so I could sit in it with the windows rolled up and temporarily protect myself from the world.





















I was tempted to say this would also be the Best Suicide Car ever, but that would actually be this one: the Hearse-Jaguar from Harold and Maude.


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