You're looking at my personal site and blog. I'm Mick Orlosky. My alias on several sites and communities around the Web is emayoh. The word 'emayoh' is the verbalization of my initials, M.A.O. Read more on the About page.
Listen while you read: “If 6 Was 9” - Jimi Hendrix Experience
Those who were there — and those who weren’t — remember 1960s in the United States with a romantic fondness, using broad-stroke words like “idealism,” “freedom,” “discovery,” and of course “peace and love.”
I was surprisingly not present for any of the 1960s in the United States, but I would lay another word over the day-glow descriptions above:
“Hogwash.”
I’m certain the time was more complicated than I can imagine. But, I just finished a book abut Jimi Hendrix that really bummed me way out.
About the book itself: Jimi Hendrix; The Intimate Story of a Betrayed Musical Legend by Sharon Lawrence is written in four parts, only two of which cover the details of Hendrix when he was alive. Lawrence was a young reporter when she met Hendrix and describes a fairly close friendship with the man that rings true. She describes Hendrix’ life and death in mostly first-person detail. She then recounts the fate of everyone in the Hendrix universe, from his greedy father, shockingly manipulative adopted sister, slimy manager, fame-hungry music biz stereotypes, countless drug-addled hangers-on, and ultimately lethal model girlfriend.
I found myself deeply affected by Lawrence’s story. For all the supposed admiration and worship that surrounded Hendrix when he was alive, he had no one looking out for him. No one ever thought: What does Jimi want for himself and how can I help this amazing person even a little bit? Everyone that crossed his path ended up stifling, suffocating, bleeding, sucking, stealing, and eventually killing him. For the swinging 60s, I would have thought somewhere there would be a selfless idealist, a glowing celestial soul, to become kindred spirits with the guy. Nope. No magical faeries either. I consider hearing Hendrix to be one of the bright musical moments of my life, and I almost couldn’t finish the book, it was so depressing. When he was alive, he was subject to every bad success cliche you’ve seen in any rock ‘n’ roll movie. After his death, his music and estate has been fought over and exploited by a byzantine soap opera of villainous characters that would give Shakespeare pause. Ultimately, I had to finish the book, both because it was such a shocking tale, and emotionally I felt a need to bear witness to the truth — as sappy as that sounds. I’m aware that this is one human’s version of the events, but the account rings true to me, and much of what is actual fact is inescapable.
I now look upon any Hendrix memorabilia with suspicion. I’m relieved to remember I purchased the Jimi Hendrix Live at Monterey DVD used. I want none of my money to go to Experience Hendrix Ltd, a exploitative merchandising empire run by an insane Janie Hendrix who — as told by Lawrence — is rather evil and twisted and ultimately pathetic. Seriously, if there is anybody’s music you should feel completely cool with downloading for free, it’s Jimi Hendrix. Read the book. It’s a gripping saga that’s Shakespeare meets Dickens, but with Eric Clapton and John Lennon grooving out in the wings.
An inescapable facet of our culture is that iconic figures — icons, for sure — distill down to mere one-word abbreviations of themselves, and nowhere is this more apparent than with dead rock stars. Tupac, Cobain, Marley, Elvis, and Hendrix adorn countless frisbees, shotglasses, mousepads, and t-shirts worn by people who have no idea of the story of the lives the faces represent. I would never presume to fight against this crass misuse of sparkling human spirit, but I would point directions when I can for those who seek a better understanding of these rare but undeniable lights that have really created something in this dark morass. When it comes to Jimi Hendrix for me, this book did exactly that.
“That’s kind of the problem with wild animals - they do grow.” - Kathy Davis, assistant general manager of Snark & Sarcasm the Los Angeles Animal Services Department
I took a bikeride in the Valley on a scorching summer afternoon. I rode by this wonderful bit of “found art” near the 170 overpass on Chandler. There was a drug deal going on, so I just kept on going of course. But, an hour later I circled back on the return trip. Damn, but it was hot on the pavement. That’s some street photography, no?
Never up on politics as much as I should be, I’ve always thought of Joe Biden as “that guy who plagiarized his speeches” in the 80s. “What a jerk,” I thought. But, shame on me for letting a single incident color my judgment of the man’s long career.
By choosing Joe Biden as their vice presidential candidate, the Democrats have selected a politician with a mixed record on technology who has spent most of his Senate career allied with the FBI and copyright holders, who ranks toward the bottom of CNET’s Technology Voters’ Guide, and whose anti-privacy legislation was actually responsible for the creation of PGP.
“Thanks for nothing,” I say to the editor who writes headlines like “Photog Allegedly Assaulted 3 Aspiring Models“ This salacious story of a man arrested for allegedly luring girls to motel rooms under the premise of photographing them to make them stars — only to then sexually assault them — has been all over the local news and Web the past few days. It’s abominable on many levels.
Foremost, of course, sympathy goes out to victims of such an act. That anyone, especially females, need to fear for their physical safety in any human interaction suggests we’re not as evolved a species, all of us, as we think we are.
I have no idea if the charges are true. But, I do know that true or false, this guy is toast. The nature of this sort of story is a complete presumption of guilt on the part of the media and the consumers of the story. That’s it. There’s no “until.” The vast majority of people who will consume this story will assume the guy’s guilty, and they’ll move on. The smaller group who actually follow the story will likely assume his guilt even if he is not convicted. It’s just too juicy a story to doubt.
Beyond the impacted lives of the victims and the accused is an issue of lesser importance, but perhaps one of broader effect. It affects me as a hobbyist photographer who can occasionally be seen walking down the street with a camera in my hand. The above events are alleged to have taken place down the street from where I live. I’m pissed. The way the story is presented will plant yet another seed of a subliminal idea that will grow in the minds of everyday people: The idea that photographers are a threat. Increasingly, people with cameras are portrayed as a threat to public transportation, as a threat to national security, and now we’re to automatically assume they’re a threat to young girls. Some attention may eventually be paid to the psychology of the suspected perpetrator of these crimes, what factors were at work in his impulses or urges. The same criminal could have used other tactics: dinner with a non-existent movie exec, a meeting with a fake lawyer. But, almost nobody will ever pay attention to that. The story here is that a “photog” did a terrible thing, and that’s all anyone will remember.
I’m already terrified of asking strangers if I can take their picture out in public on the street. There’s a Flickr group dedicated to taking portraits of strangers that should be fun. I see faces every day I wish I could take a photograph of. Stories like this only make approaching strangers harder. The next person I ask while I’m holding a camera could well scream for the cops. And, then in the eyes of the police, and then the media, I’d be guilty; Guilty of having a camera.
On the off chance that Apple Corp. is deliberately floating this trial balloon of an iTunes subscription plan out to the blogosphere to gauge the reaction and see if people would pay, allow me to color the issue with my deeply considered thoughts:
A German blogger-mixer-guy who goes by djmq put together a very excellent Kraftwerk megamix. Then he asked politely if he could use a photo I took from the Kraftwerk show at the Greek Theater in ‘05. Nice guy!
I was totally going to blog about this when this shocking and disturbing image showed up in my e-mail on Friday. But, I snoozed on it. Then, I just saw that good ol’ stereogum was all over it today. I’m usually good at scooping the ‘gum, and I had this. Just goes to show you can’t snooze in the blog wars. (What am I on about?)
Seriously, Daryl Hall (and T-Bone Wolk) jamming with Chromeo, sipping wine, talking about fixing up old houses, and playing collaborative takes on “Tenderoni” and “No Can Do” among others? Chromeo’s talk-box on Maneater? That’s must-see TV. Seriously, it puts a huge smile on my face to see something so random work out so well. And, interesting in-between stories of the old days: “John [Oates] was in charge of the drum machine. (snicker).” Kinda cold, Daryl, but funny!
I’m not yet an expert on Guitar Gods, but I’m slowly working my way up there. In my younger days, I never gave two shakes about the guitar. I dug cool riffs and all, but the shredders always seemed too over the top for me. Then for some reason, a year or so it all changed. I think maybe seeing Philip Sayce for the first time started it. Then my buddy Greg got me really into Jimi and I finally got it — as much as I “get” anything, I suppose.
So, Joe Bonamassa is a dude who was born in upstate New York just like me. Like me, he’s now from Los Angeles. That’s about where the similarities end. He’s a total shredder. He’s playing a show at BriXton in Redondo Beach next month, and I’ll be there. His latest release comes out tomorrow — a double live album called Live From Nowhere in Particular. The ZZ Top cover above is mindblowing. I really hope you clicked the play button.
Regarding that cool photo on Flickr, I don’t know the photographer, but I like the shot. When Greg saw it he said, “In every adult guitar god, you can see a trace of the boy, the one who locked himself in his room every day and night for his entire childhood, playing guitar.” Exactly!
Those who were there — and those who weren’t — remember 1960s in the United States with a romantic fondness, using broad-stroke words like “idealism,” “freedom,” “discovery,” and of course “peace and love.”
