The Hunter

"I'm the hunter
Searching for love on these lonely streets--again
I'm the hunter
Searching for the things that I might never find--again!
-Don Dokken, 1985

This one kid at my work, in addition to being legit at skating, also hunts. This, to me, is awesome--in a Cardielian sense, as Phelps would attest. Both of these things comprise part of being an outdoorsman and conceptualizing onesself as a self-reliant American male. One should be able to tie a tie, change a tire, operate a grill, order wine at a restaraunt, cook eggs more than two different ways, drive stick, open a beer with a lighter or Venture truck, and grip/set up a board anywhere.
In addition to serving as a metaphor for bassist Jeff Pilson's quest for meaning in an among the dive bars of LA, hunting is an effective metaphor for skating. One is outside, doing something. That's 90% of the equation. Getting away from stuff. I, myself, have never hunted, so I am unable to compare skating to taking the life of an animal. However, in both endeavors, one uses a lovingly constructed instrument of wood and metal (and plastic... are Glocks plastic? No, they 're ceramic...). And similar to like gambling, one pays for the experience; the end result, or whatever product is obtained, is secondary to the moment-to-moment process. Well, maybe product is critical if one happens to be executing a filming mission. That requires a different mindset entirely--the Ty Evans approach of skaters as team of travelling contractors, the filmer as foreman.
While the Ted Nugents of the world value hunting on some primeval communicating-with-the-spirits-of-nature shit, tapping into the same parts of the brain that once drove use to drive woolly mammoths off cliffs using only a flaming stick and club bitches over the head and drag them back to one's cave by their hair, at the average foundation spot such as the one depicted above, one can feel a definite vibe of a different, creepier sort. Hundreds of people used to go there to work every day. They got hired. They got fired or quit. Supervisors compensated them for their time. They took deliveries at the loading dock. Millions of dollars changed hands, security dudes scoped out every hot girl that walked in, and now only the concrete foundation, some twisted metal, and the once-pristine marble floor, shards of which now only serve as ammunition for lurkers to hurl into the abyss of the parking lot, remain.

How To Feel Epic: A Print Media Review of the Final Issue of SLAP of All Time

One cold and rainy November Sunday, there was no skating going on. Unfortunately, no one has decided to open an indoor park here for like 8 years; from what I hear, they're not exactly licenses to print money. Although, there are always kids who mention that "We're opening a warehouse, dude!" but they seem to always be super sketchy, occupying spaces like the offices and back rooms of abandoned gas stations. I don't know where they are anyway, so fuck it. I went to the shop, got the final issue of SLAP, then went to the gym.
Usually when it rains I swim laps then hang out in the sauna for like fifteen minutes. Swimming makes one feel fucking awesome; I think it's the same thing as what is commonly referred to as "runner's high." Although it is parallel to running (doesn't Reese Forbes jog 5 miles every day or some shit?) in many ways, I don't think I will be winning said gentleman's "high ollie challenge" in the near future. As far as saunaing goes, I do not know if it helps one at all medicinally, but if Arto does it it must be cool, right? That dude doesn't age. I was thinking of a way to explain its benefits, and I think it's good for your joints or some shit, and while I have not, unfortunately, b/s lipslid any kinked rails lately, I really can't verbalize it any better than Arto himself did in the March 2008 Thrasher:

For the Scandanavians, the Seandos, a sauna is something very holy and kept with a high spirit in Finland, the Scando-land that it comes from. It has a long history of spirits and cleaning and meditation--all those things that people used to use a sauna for--calming down, giving birth, and just feeling epic. It's basically a small wooden room with a stove with hot rocks in it. You heat the rocks up and then throw water on it and it makes a very hot ...

To clarify, I am definitely not Scandanavian--indeed, I am a big Jew. However,the Scandinavian people did extend a helping hand to the Jewish people during WW2, so Scandanavians totally hate Jews just a little less than everyone else in the world. More importantly, "feeling epic" is, of course, what I'm all about. Just like any other social realm, however, there are rules to the sauna. You don't want to be like this "Little Carmine" type dude that always hangs in there, munching on Fritos or some shit, drinking water, pouring water over his head "to stay fuckin' hydrated," reading the Wall St. Journal--it's not a good look. Also, never bring your mp3 player or, heaven forbid, your blackberry into a sauna because it will malfunction. First, though, how did I get to this point? Why am I reading the final (print) issue of a skateboarding periodical in a sauna with a bunch of naked jewish dudes?

***
Back in the early Nineties, every Saturday I would ride my bike to the mom and pop shop and get whatever new mag or promo VHS tape was there. At this time, it was the only skate shop in town, besides 17th St., which was half-assed at best. Now there are four. Maybe five. The offspring of this mom and pop was actually one year ahead of me in middle school; we were always just a little jealous of him because he had all the freshest skate rags and shit like that. So one November I went down there and picked up SLAP #8:

It was sick--in effect, a conduit to a better place with limitless horizons. One thing about SLAP--it never relinquished its earnestnest about how, like awesome and amazing skating was/is. While Big Brother was trailblazing humor, irony, and epic road trips, SLAP documented the physical and mental intersection between skating, art, and random layout. If anything, it veered more into to the artistic side when skating became less hip-hop oriented; that void was never filled--well, maybe by Strength...

Furthermore, the early issues, especially those few early "large" format ones, reminded me of some graf zine with the low-budget, black and white ads, and printing on which one could actually see the dots if one looked close enough. One of my favorite articles from the early years was the Pep interview that Andy Stone recorded on some obscure antiquated magnetic tape cassette format. According to the interview, when he sent it in to the mag, they had no way of transcribing it. That was it--no interview, his words lost to the sands of time. Although this was a logistical error that was never corrected, it drives home the point that absence of content can be just as effective as presence.

This whole way of looking at shit has been on my mind since I recently completed watching Sopranos seasons 3-6 on the OnDemand. Once you deduce that the screen going black indicates Tony's murder, the aftermath--blood, skull fragments and brain matter in the onion rings, Meadow seeing her father's head explode--is a million times more horrific than anything the cast and crew of a television program could have staged. This, after a fashion, is the cumulative effect of the early issues of SLAP: a handful of black and white photographs can impact the psyche (3:18) more powerfully than--oh, I don't know-- some dude's "private" skatepark broadcasting a s.k.a.t.e. "tournament" amongst your favorite pros via the interweb, an idea that would have blown my mind in 1992.

ps. If you can still find one, the last SLAP is worth getting if only for the two-page spread of every single cover...
pps. I started mentally formulating a circa-1992 BATB bracket, but I didn't get any further than Jovantae, Damon Byrd, Alf...
ppps. Active Erica lifestyle coverage on p. 106

STREETWEAR NEWS FLASH!

Look out, hypebeast! Major streetwear news here! My favorite streetwear--I mean...um, small-scale casual (?)--clothing company, Fucking Awesome, is back. First, some background:
Truth be told, the last time I happened by my local small-scale casual clothing shoppe, they had this placard or sandwich board out front advertising all the brands they carry. Lo and behold, "F'ING AWESOME" was on there. So I asked the dude if they had any of their shirts or anything because, although, gun to my head, I couldn't describe for you any of their shirts besides "gangster situations," I remember them being more amusing than your average Paris album cover rip-off or what have you. Unfortunately, they did not, and we kind of knowingly shrugged, as if to say, "What are you gonna do--it's Dill. He probably just got obsessed with something else and forgot about it." Fast forward to last month, when fuckingawesome.net reappeared. The best thing about the new site is, of course, Dill's partner taking shots at the whole small-scale casual clothing "culture," portraying them as loser pieces of shit, basically. In any event, the shirt with Keith Richards, James Brown, and Artie Lange is kind of funny. Indeed, I would give my next paycheck to have been a fly on the wall at that party.
Which leaves me asking myself, does anything in this world warrant waiting in line? Yeah yeah yeah, I know--voting. With regard to the whole "streetwear" thing, though, I suppose the silly thing about obsessing over clothing or shoe items is elevating them to art status. Then one gets into the "what is art?" debate.

"You know--paintings and stuff."

Dill's partner mentions also his work-in-progess--a documentary about Ozzy Osbourne. This reminded my of the last time I, myself waited in a ridiculously long line for something--A Black Sabbath in-store in 1998.

In a decision that speaks volumes about my mindstate at the time, I decided it would be a good idea to hang out in front of the Virgin "Megastore" in Times Square all nite with a bunch of metal dudes from Old Bridge, NJ listening to Screaming for Vengeance (note, this was nine years before FF!) on a boom box.
Although I am less all about it now than I was at the time, truth be told, I still rock out to the "stoner" metal from time to time--nothing wrong with a little Kyuss or even Monster Magnet every once in a while. However, I pretty much never listen to Sabbath anymore. The best way to explain it is that it's just in my mental DNA, like Virtual or Reign in Blood. Like what was the last time you actually listened to Slayer, you know?
ANYWAY, after hanging out in Time Square all night they started the shit. Sharon was there, supervising. The one thing I remember is how deliberately Ozzy was when he signed my copy of Volume 4, like he was concentrating super hard. Indeed, his autograph is supresingly legible:


But yeah, waiting in line for a super-limited article of clothing is horseshit, alright.

ps. I was going to title this post "Don't Stand In Line," but I decided that that would be too obscure an Ian MacKaye side project reference.

Literature Corner: Scott Bourne

“we wear black...and when they invent something darker than black we’ll wear that too, dammit…”

Back in the fall of 1993, I went skating at my local school on a brisk satuday morning. Because it was brisk, I wore my semi-new Carhartt sweatshirt. At the time, I was heavily influenced by Rap City, and most of the videos on there were set in some kind of post-apocalyptic underground water treatment facility. And of course, everyone wore hoodies—either Carhartt hoodies or that one kind that promoted historically African-American learning institutions. As it happened, though the sands of time cloud my memory, I remember taking off said sweatshirt, placing it on the bench I was skating, and then going to skate somewhere else. When I returned, it was gone. Bummer. I got a new yellow sweatshirt shortly therafter.

Fifteen years later, the Carhartt brand of “streetwear” (workwear?) resurfaces as the publisher/distributor of a volume of poems by Scott Bourne—you know, the “black-arm” dude from Big Brother. Gun to my head, I couldn't tell you one trick this dude did, what videos he was in, or any of that shit. But when I'm in an assisted living community, say the words "black arm" to me and I will respond "oh, that Scott Bourne dude...". As you probably have surmised, his particular genre of skating is not in my wheelhouse. However, for whatever reason, Todd Bratrud created for him some of the best graphics ever—like this:

...and this, in particular:

The poem reads thusly:

Captains’ Log

October 30

Broken Compass

Overcast Sky


Navigate by heart

Or die

Regardless of whoever wrote it, that’s fucking awesome. ANYWAY, this publication is notable for the following reasons. First, as far as I know, it marks the first time a pro/former pro has published a work of literature No, the Hawk and Mullen "autobiographies" are not applicable. I think Vallely might have come out with something or other, but I'm not even going to attempt to unravel that enigma here. I think he might have just stuck to the spoken word performances, though. Secondly, as far I I know, this marks the first time in the modern era that a dude has gotten sponsored for writing, or some shit. Maybe calling it a collaboration between an author and a "streetwear" operation would be more apt, but I give myself secondhand embarassment just typing the word "streetwear." It is what it is, though. Who knows--maybe this will be the next level shit in publishing.*

Then again…

ANYWAY, back to S.H. Bourne’s poetry. I gotta tell ya, even though I have yet to read it, several red flags appear. Any book whose primary selling point as being written on a typewriter screams “hey.! my art is authentic because it was created using outmoded technology!” I mean, why not just use a Mac SE, you know?

In addition, here’s the deal with the whole “tortured artist” point of view—every time I read or hear someone in that vein, it reminds me of the Louis C.K. bit about how people without kids have nothing to complain about. Take Rollins, for example: while some of his verse is compelling, a great deal of it self-indulgently complains about how much it sucks to get driven around in a tour bus and play music for a living. Let's be real here--if your job is being driven around in a tour bus--a bus, not a van--and playing music for people, you have basically won at life. I would also go so far as to say that if you have finagled a way to eek out a living skating around Europe and typing on a typewriter, you're not doing so shitty either, big picture-wise. However, if one is going to explore the “tortured white dude” subgenre, it doesn’t get much better than this excerpt from See A Grown Man Cry, Now Watch Him Die, which I just finished:

Last longer, move faster, with more clarity. I will go until my body quits. Panicked and charged with blind fury, the bull sees the gate come up and he stomps and bellows in the arena full of strangers. It was always simple combat, one against all. One never relenting, knowing no other way to go but until collapse. 1992 dies.

Now, I do not profess to be some kind of prose expert, but that's kind of badass. Judging by a few standard writing criteria--voice, imagery, figurative language, sentence variety-it kills. I contrast that with Bourne's excerpt on the "spacejunk" site, which I would have linked to had it not been recently removed. I assure you, though, there's not much to grab onto there. Of course, that was just one sample--I would need to review the entire collection before delivering a definitive review. How much is 18 Euros again? In all honesty, if someone sends me a copy I will review it in all objectivity and sincerity. I won't, in case you were wondering, critique Mr. Bourne nearly as brutally as the instructor herein:

ps. I just realized this a couple weeks ago, but you might recognize the professor from that clip as....

wait for it...

Colvin from The Wire! Trip the fuck out. . .

*attn: Nick Tershay: let's do this

The Mythology of Long Island

"The dudes in Poison were famous, but they still lived like jobless guys who never made it out of Pennsylvania. Booze is the greatest of all equalizers. Rich drunks and poor drunks both pass out the same way."

-Chuck Klosterman

(Note: this post is somewhat of a sequel to this post from a few months ago.)

When I started skating the city around 1995-1997, most of the dudes I skated with came out from Long Island. For the most part, I met them through this one kid who--fuck, I can't remember how I met him at first. Probably at the cube. I seem to recall that we were the only two kids that skated downtown on a regular basis that also fucked with, for lack of a better term, nyXhc. So every Friday, one of us repeated the mantra "You skating today?" and we'd meet up at Supreme or the banks and do the whole circuit. We would often randomly go on midtown missions with other dudes from Long Island, who tended to roll deep, usually to Time/Life, Huf Ledge, or--I can't remember what this spot was called--the loading dock bump that Keenan fakie flipped off of in Paco.
This, combined with semi-religiously listening to Stern, inducted me into the mythology of Long Island.
* * *
As it happens, when skating in an urban areas there is significant downtime--minutes spent on the train, walking up hills, or dining. Therefore, stories get told. The Long Island dudes regaled me with stories of skating the humps, of SUNY Stonybrook, of Keenan and Huf vibing them on the LIRR. They also related tales of driving past Dee Snyder's house while singing "We're Not Gonna Take It" as loud as possible. Snyder would allegedly come out and shake his fist, his pink jeep in the driveway and "hot" (as also recently confirmed by Howard Stern) wife behind him. One dude I used to skate with also used to drive past Gino's house.
"There's Gino's house," he would comment. That was it. I'm not sure if Gino's and Dee Snyder's residences were close, or if it was a "thing," as if there was a circuit of semi-famous dudes' houses on Long Island that dudes drove by--maybe the dudes from Dream Theater or Blue Oyster Cult.
Based on those two stories, I concluded that Long Island was a typical breeding ground for suburban malaise.

I could not have been more wrong.

For whatever reason, Long Island has, over the last fifty years or so, developed a mythology and artistic energy all its own. Did you know that Stern, Public Enemy, Eddie Murphy, and Julius Erving all went to the same high school in Roosevelt--eight miles from Poets? This, in my opinion, is one of the most underrated facts ever. What could possibly account for such a volcanic explosion of creativity in a burgh of about 15,000 citizens? Who the fuck knows. I will, however, purport that it taps into the existential, by definition, practice of making meaning out of the meaningless. This is the universal prism through which Stern and the other artistic forces of Long Island view their world.
For example, many of Stern's detractors claim that his show's popularity derives from its salacious nature. However, the segments with assorted females of flexible moral standing, whom he attempts to cajole into disrobing, are without fail the least interesting. Stern's show is magic because he displays an advanced understanding of what is funny. He is able, through nothing more than the force of his own wit, to create four hours of improvisational comedy per day. To do this, he mines the comedy in seemingly mundane situations and turns it into radio gold. No one would think that the jealous rage (directed at another show employee who has infinitely more success with the ladies) of a public-speaking-challenged intern would be endlessly entertaining, but it is. No one would assume that a one-armed alcoholic from Albany who lives in his mother's trailer would be endlessly entertaining, but he is.
Similarly, throughout his body of work, Iannucci has displayed an advanced understanding of what looks good on a skateboard and the processes that make it so. Just like Stern's X-Factor is his wit and ability to just say funny shit, Gino's X-Factor and source of charisma is his style, which several dudes including that tattoo artist dude attempt to qualify in the recent Epicly Later'd feature--the main topic of this post.

* * *

So, enter the Gino Epicly Later'd episode. First of all, I would like to extend accolades to Mr. O'Dell for actually practicing skateboard journalism. Secondly, while it does not emit the epic plot structure of the Cardiel or the demoralizing emotional impact of that WESC video, it mines skate nerd gold in other areas, mainly in video and insight into the halcyon days of the late '90's.
For students of the "acid-washed jeans, plain white t-shirt" era, Gino's commentary on his process while filming his transcendent part in Snuff is priceless. Indeed, that Brian Lotti/World/Dave Schlossbach company he mentioned is one of the great "What If?" scenarios of all time. Also, the circa-93 video (b/s double-flip over Los Feliz hip) is outstanding.
Most evocative, though, is the "last Keenan footage" at that municipal park, where Gino, after coming agonizingly close to landing one of the biggest b/s nollie heels over a hip of all time, flings his board into the foggy Long Island night.
From the beginning, Gino's story appears to be intertwined with Keenan's. The scenario of Keenan moving back East and getting his shit together reminds one of Hendrix's unfulfilled 1970's agenda, like working with Miles Davis and John McLaughlin and shit.
The third major personality force in the piece is Guy, who seems to hover over the ascendance of Gino and Keenan, observing the whole thing like the Watcher from Marvel Comics. By the way, how awesome Guy's fireplace? It's obvious that the dude does not live in a skouse. Furthermore, how awesome is it that Guy and Gino correspond by letter? Does Gino sit down at his cherry oak Edgar Allen Poe writing desk--a furniture piece that would match the rest of the decor in his shop-- in the back office of Poets and respond to correspondence? That would be fucking awesome. ANYWAY, what I am getting at is that Keenan and Guy play as critical a role in this story as Gino himself. One way to look at it is, to borrow a paradigm from Catholicism, the following: Guy, Gino and Keenan are like the father, son, and holy ghost of "dope" skating. *

Guy created the whole paradigm. Gino is the human, all too human manifestation in the material world. Keenan's spirit still inhabits the world and dwells inside all who choose to follow alongside his footsteps.
ANYWAY, the one piece whose absence was most glaring was the whole "addiction/recovery" thing. Maybe Gino just didn't want to fuckin' talk about it. That's cool. Maybe he feared Gino would say "fuck this" and shitcan the whole deal.
Maybe so. All I know is that the Thanksgiving story is probably the most Less Than Zero-esque story ever told in the history of skate documentation.
Along those lines, when Guy told about going to rehab in his 48 Blocks interview, it added an entirely new dimension to his saga. By the way, by using the term "program," in one of the final segments, Guy further corroborated my theory that he is an active 12-stepper (he also referenced the slogan "Keep it Simple" in the aforementioned Block interview).
And let's be clear--these are indeed epic sagas--as epic as any of the twentieth century. It kind if bums me out how, if you take a glance at the "sports" section at your local Barnes and Noble, that every C-list ballplayer, no matter how milquetoast, has a ghostwritten autobiography. Even Jeter--Jeter's a fucking decent player and everything, but there are like 10 books about and or "written" by him. Is this warranted? Don't even get me started on the literally fifty or so books about the 2004 Red Sox. Wouldn't you rather read a book about, like, the Santa Monica Courthouse? I know I would.
However, if Odell is going to continue to aspire to capture these epic stories, it would behoove him, as the de facto representative of the skate nerd population, to attempt to get the whole story. Even if it blows up in one's face. That's the difference between journalism and promotional devices.



*disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form intend to disparage, minimize, or belittle the Catholic faith. I am simply using the concept of the trinity as an analogy for rhetorical purposes.

ps. Mazal Tov, Howard.

Video Review - 48 Blocks/Western Edition: Pandemic

It's hard to put into words how psyched I was when I saw the promo for this video. Truth be told, a Wire-themed skate video could not be more in my proverbial wheelhouse. The two foremost things I love to deconstruct and overanalyze, in one Tim and Henry -sized bindle, if you will.

I've discussed the show here at lengh previously. However, just like a drug addict who, in effect, savors the ritualistic aspects of addiction, my viewing of seasons four and five took on similar dimensions. Waiting until 12:01 every Sunday night for the new episodes to come up on the OnDemand became a quasi-religious experience. I fuckin' needed that shit to get me through the week. Through whatever process, narrative like this, in effect, "turned down" the rest of the world in a Fight Club kind of way. Skating is parallel; oh, what's that you say? You're mad because so-and-so wore jeans on a non-casual-Friday day and didn't get reprimanded? You don't say! Can't print? Got a big presentation? Guess what: I just slammed my feet into wood, concrete, and iron for three hours. That's what I do to relax.
Pandemic sets the stage with a clearly-defined thesis: that skating operates as another component of The Game--of the ways and means of doing things utilized in American cities on a daily basis. I was going to say "urban culture" but that sounded like something off of hypebeast or some shit. You know what I mean. So, let's see how they go about proving it.
BY THE WAY, I promised myself that after Bill Simmons used one too many Wire metaphors a while back that I would refrain from using the show as a rhetorical device. However, fuck it. I feel that it's apt here--it's not like I'm arbitrarily comparing Teddy Bruschi to Avon Barksdale or some shit. So with that in mind, I will review Pandemic by way of comparing the dudes with full parts (Thayer, Johnson, Lavar, and Keegan) to characters from the show. By the way, if you have access to HBO and you didn't watch Generation Kill (masterminded by Wire dudes) this summer, you lapsed. Unless you are some kind of BBC news junkie, it's doubtful you have seen or will see as brutal a portrayal of the Iraq War anywhere.

OVERVIEW

Since its inception Western Edition has occupied a space somewhere between mid-Nineties Stereo and Girl/Choc . Drawing upon the Spirit of San Francisco, their three previous video offerings have kept the spirit of soul-soundtracked ledge/line skating alive throughout the current decade. Pandemic, however, sets out on a much more ambitious mission. The promo is edited, in effect, exactly like a 10-minute episode of The Wire--with opening song, opening montage, closing song, and credits. I would have chosen the Tom Waits song from Season 2 ("the forgotten season") but that's just me. Each section also includes a meaningful audio quote from the series. I gotta tell ya, the only video I can recall that intertwined film clips like this was those clips from The Man With One Red Shoe that were, for some reason, included randomly in Whatever. Or Da Deal is Dead--I can't quite recall. Only Josh Friedberg knows for sure...

THAYER

Who's a dude that's been in the game for a minute, not overly demonstrative but still effective as fuck?
Bodie.
Shorter than his part in WE3; however, effortless hardflippage on all kinds of different shit more than compensates. Ventures into the Jean-Baptise realm with an overturned noseblunt to switch b/s 5/0 on a bank, or "street transition," as they say. What does that even mean?

"THE BLOCK" Montage

That "Unfriendly Game" track reinforces the thesis, drawing parallels between The Game and The Industry.

JOHNSON

That smirk? After his ender? That's 150% McNulty. By the way, whatever happened to that dude Sean McNulty that was on Sugar Skateboards? They should have found him for this project, if only for a line or single.
McNulty is the best. I wish I had a job where it was politic to curse and yell at people.
DAMMIT McNULTY!!!
ANYWAY, Catalyst rep Joey Johnson encorporates tech (on and into actual streets, which is imperative) with flowing downhill type shit not seen every day. Reminiscent of Curtin, after a fashion. Looking forward to seeing what this dude comes up with in the future.

THE WESTERN (district)

In addition to Brad “Carcetti” Johnson, Toeda non-illusion sw hardflips and interprets western culture into switchstance backside tailslides on waist-high ledges. However, in my opinion, Dwayne Galloway came up the most in this part with some ledge/manual creativity interspersed with blasted f/s flips and lien airs.
NEWS FLASH: dudes are skating the fountain gap again.
I repeat: Dudes are skating the fountain gap again. That simple fact psyched me up as much as anything else in the vid.


LAVAR McBRIDE

An assassin coming back from the brink of death. Yup, it's....

Brother Mouzone, one of the most underrated dudes in the whole saga. The way I look at it, he was at least as badass as Omar. Who else says "good day to you sir" after shooting a dude in broad daylight? I kept waiting for another comeback in season five, but to no avail. However, if you blinked you probably missed Nicky from Season 2 getting arrested.

"No need to prolong this."
"Nah, we got time..."
ANYWAY,
While not as messianic as Guy’s comeback, Lavar seems to have picked up right where he left off a decade ago. Yes, the “almost-falling-off-the-board” style (See any Harold Hunter footage for another example) still prevails—an increasingly rare attribute in a world inhabited by bolts landers like Capaldi and Malto. Anyway, it’s Lavar—like an old friend/DYUTSW (dude you used to skate with) that you see at some spot or park after a fucking decade.
Hard to believe this dude, for a two-year period, was arguably top five in the world. Equally as hard to believe is the fact that, the blind lineup in 1994 was Keenan, Lavar, Sanchez, and Creager. In terms of pure mind-numbing technicality, one could argue that that particular group was ahead of Girl at the time. In terms of Lavar in specifically, he had that vibe that there was no trick he could not do – similar to the space Trapasso occupies today. If my memory is functioning correctly, his east coast sidekick Mike Wright once told me that he was fucking with switch kickflip b/s ng at the pier in, like, '97. It was as if only physical space confined his ability to film hard-as-fuck lines, as seen in the end of 20 Shot. In fact, that part and his encyclopedic part in Trilogy, in which his “ender” line is probably still going on in some alternate universe, spawned the following theory in my mind, a theory that has not been put forth in the written word until now:

THE LAVAR McBRIDE THEORY:

Lavar’s part in Trilogy was so linear that it caused a backlash and paradigm shift in video editing that emphasized quicker cuts, shorter parts, more slow-motion, and fewer lines. Combined with advances in video technology, this resulted in parts like Appleyard’s in Photosynthesis, where one saw single tricks like nollie heel crooked with some computer animation layered on top of it and only one three trick line. The endgame had to have been Luzka’s soul-crushing part in the Almost video ; I have yet to see a more cynical M60-like rail attack editing style.

ANYWAY, Lavar is back, and Nineties nostalgists will be proud. In particular, the switchstance 360 kickflip off the bump into traffic looks like something off the 20 Shot cutting room floor. And, as many of you have undoubtedly seen, the nollie bigspin kickflip over the library gap indicates that Lavar still has that progressive spark in his mind. Hopefully this sets the stage for Affiliate to make moves in the upcoming fiscal year.

KEEGAN

A young gun that kills in the East, kills in the West. Had to be Marlo.

"My name is my name."

Indeed, the first East Coaster besides Igei on the WE squad nailguns the video shut with a how-to demonstration of techniques at an assortment of Boston, NY, and some SF spots. In particular, that spot that looks like the Museum of Natural History benches, running alongside a river or lake, is particularly scenic. You might remember this dude from the RAW promo, another example of the recent crop of sick “internet only”-type promos. I would go so far as to say that the ten-to-fifteen-minute promo is the perfect format—there’s a reason why Tim and Henry’s and Snuff are in most dudes’ top five. It’s not brain surgery. Kids that rip, decent music, short enough to watch before skating.
In terms of the East Coast mentality displayed, there's this misconception floating around that once you cross the Mississippi that the only spots are cellar doors, pole jams, and esoteric wallrides. There may be some of that, but kids fucking rip everywhere in a million different ways. Every park, spot, or little zone has that one dude that can do anything. However, the seasons and differences in urban/suburban terrain force one to adapt to survive and foster a certain subtle difference in swag.

Regarding the aforementioned bench spot, the sw b/s tailslide shoveit hearkens back to Stevie’s in the FIT video, which is just about the highest compliment one can give a sw b/s tailslide shoveit. However, like someone said on the SLAP board, it seems like he isn’t really trying, which is a productive mental place to inhabit. He’s still in the “golf club” stage, trying to be a gentleman about it. But one thing he does is show a propensity for combining tech with naturalistic “skating down the street” style. Not quite at the same level as that one part by that other dude from Boston, but it’s early yet. What happens next is up to him, on a day to day basis. There really is no nostalgia; kids don’t care if you were top four in the world at any point. All there is is what happens in the game on a day to day basis. Every day is its own odyssey.

this video is going VIRAL, BABY!!!

I did a big time 00's thing and uploaded a video to youtube--the montage from Sixth Sense with the Welsh sw 360 flip at the end -- second-to-last trick actually. Truth be told, I'm not the biggest fan of embedded video; it usually falls under the "hey dudes, look what I found on the internets" category. However, it's been floating across my mind's eye ever since the chrome ball dude posted this. Maybe it's a combination of skating through the banks that day and how completely out of left field it was at the time; I mean, the only dude who sw 360 flipped over stuff was...you know who. Note: apparently, it is one of the TOP 10 SWITCH 360 FLIPS EVER. Truth be told, I cannot recall if that was a SLAP topic or magazine article first--a moot point if there ever was one.
ANYWAY, there's some interesting stuff in there in addition to Welsh, like pre-cellar door Puleo, Brad Hayes (slightly ahead of his time), Jerry Fowler, and random footage of whoever was in NYC that spring, i.e. Nikhil Thayer at courthouse. Oh yeah--Dan "2 Fish" Rogers.

Ride the Sky Premiere Report including Gilbert Crockett mini-interview

dateline: Richmond, VA 8/16/08

"You're gay."
That's what my brother said when I called him and explained that I was at a skateboard video premiere. He lives in a house with a bunch of dudes about a block away from the cinema you see above, where the premiere occurred. The centerpiece of the house is a HD television mounted above the fireplace. Presumably, this will function as the locus of activity and excitement during NFL time. That's a few weeks away, though--summer still has 2 more weekends. As you might have surmised, my brother is diametrically opposite from me--total frat dude. Allegedly, he even has pictures on "facebook" of his girlfriend partaking of a beer bong, the end of it down by his junk. To his credit, he is slightly more advanced than I in that particular realm.
I always heard about dudes getting into skating because of an older brother. However, I think that wasn't in the cards because he's 10 years younger than I, which is a little too big of a disconnect to be influenced in that way, you know? But what the fuck do I know...
Anyway, maybe he's right--what the fuck am I doing with my life that on, a Saturday in the second-to-last weekend of the summer, I choose to watch a skateboard video with 400 12-year olds? The thing is, I still don't have the slightest idea what the average 30-year-old single dude does on an average weekend day. Play XboX? Tweak the fantasy football roster? I couldn't go to the gym because it's a JCC that opens at 1:30 on Saturdays. At the end of the day, as with most things that human beings are passionate about, there's some that "get it" and some that will never "get it."
It would take about 7 hours to explain to someone the import and gravitas of watching a video for the first time, and even then there's only about a 1% chance that they would "get it." So it's not even worth trying to explain--not even to my own brother.

ANYWAY...

***WARNING--SOME MUSIC SPOILERS AHEAD***

As one might expect, the soundtrack primarily focuses on Seventies hard rock of the "classic metal" variety, most effectively in the opening montage. Wait, what's that I hear--a flugelhorn playing the "AH AH AHHHHHHHHHH AH" from "Immigrant Song"? A call to arms for the masses of Black Box disciples? Perhaps...
Also of note, James Hardy skates to Skynyrd, the floodgates for which were opened by Chet Childress in that Nike video. If you would have told me fourteen years ago that it would be acceptable to use Skynyrd and obscure German proto-metal with flugelhorns in a skate video, I would have eaten my hat. Who knows what the next ten years will bring? Maybe Unquestionable, when it comes out in 2019, will have a soundtrack comprised of Dire Straits and Genesis. There are no rules--not anymore.
As for the skating itself, I'm not really going to deconstruct anything because, truth be told, this is not my genre of choice. Gilbert Crockett did the most flip-in/flip outs, which was more in my wheelhouse than the other dudes. Chris Cole, however, is on some Rodney Mullen Jedi master shit where there is no disconnect between board and mind.
His second song of a two-song part was "Diamonds and Rust" by Priest--the Unleashed in the East version; gotta love that mandatory fake crowd noise--see every other live record from 1970-1985 for more examples. Excellent choice though--kudos overall to the music supervisor, whoever you are.

GILBERT CROCKETT MINI-INTERVIEW

Describe the process of filming for the video; was it stressful or...
Nah this video wasn't that stressful because we went on a lot of fun trips; it was more relaxed than the Mystery video, so it was more fun.
Describe what it's like for you to be here at a premiere like this, with your family and friends, etc.
It's more exciting than the first premiere, because at the first premiere I didn't really know everybody there. It's like, it was in San Diego, I'm from Richmond, so this is when my family gets to come and everything.
What was the coolest place you traveled to during filming?
Probably Paris or Berlin.
Any goals for the future?
Nah, just trying to keep doing what I'm doing.
Whose part was the best, in your opinion?
My favorite part is probably Harmony.

Menace [under construction--critical update 8.31.08]

Allow me to direct your attention to the device around which the four gentlemen in the above photograph are gathered. If you are not familiar with this device, it is what was once known as a "pay phone"-- a mechanical device into which one inserted metal currency to enable the user to place a telephone call. Have you seen one around lately? Perhaps, but their numbers are dwindling (pun intended). Digital mobile communication devices have rendered them incomprehensibly obsolete.
The entity, or, to some, state of being, philosophy, whatever you want to call it, known as Menace baffles some in a similar manner. Whenever I would mention Menace, or, especially in the halcyon time or 1997, when I would skate only Menace boards and rock the classic Menace backpack around the city, i would be met with derision of the "Menace? Those dudes suck" variety. MENACE TECH became a semi-sarcastic battle cry of urban skateboard elitism as the promise at the end of the Trilogy section remained unfulfilled, as elusive as the faint aroma of weed smoke wafting through the banks. Indeed, "video coming soon" became a focal point for Menace's seeming ineptitude.
Indeed, one could easily, as Mackenzie Eisenhour did in his 2006 piece in Transworld Skateboarding, characterize Menace as "gangsta skateboarding." However, not only would that be factually untrue (the only gang activity in Rhode Island is, I believe, those inbred hitmen fucks from The Sopranos), it would oversimplify the part Menace played in the end-of-the-century milieu that engulfed the city of Los Angeles. That is the main purpose of this piece--to gain perspective on Menace/AC/CS by examining the context in which it existed, and, by doing so, ponder the meaning of menace tech on a journey of self-discovery--a vision quest, if you will.
At first, I intended to structure this post as a Powerpoint presentation posted as .jpg's. However, that would inconvenience those of you who read this and other "blogs" via Google Reader, so maybe if I run out of ideas at some point I'll just reconfigure it as a .ppt and make it available for download or some shit. So, what I'm going to divide it into a series of exhibits in chronological order, kind of like that one scene in Pee Wee's Big Adventure (exhibit Q!).

Exhibit A: The Conquest of Mexico by Cortes - 1519-21



The takeover of the Aztec empire by the Spanish conquistadors resulted in a synergy of the Spanish-European and Mayan-Aztec cultures and peoples. As a result, what we now know as contemporary Mexican culture was made possible, as well as a distinct melding of socio-religious imagery, which would influence the history of California hundreds of years later.

Exhibit B: Mexican Independence from Spain - 1810-1823

People tend to think of the present day as a time of unencumbered freedom and impunity. Well, that ain't shit compared to the 1800's. Based on my rudimentary Wikipedia research (the source of the facts in this article so far), it was easy as fuck to either invade another country and declare yourself or one of your relatives emperor, take over part of another country because, hey, they weren't doing anything productive with it, or start your own army with the goal of staging a coup of these United States. A gentleman by the name of Aaron Burr almost accomplished the latter, after shooting the Vice President and fleeing to a house in Perth Amboy, about 100 feet from the site of the last few tricks in this Fred Gall video part. Indeed. truth be told, one could start or take over some or all of a country with the ease with which modern day peoples can, if they choose, locate nine different versions of "Slide it In" by Whitesnake on Youtube--"Rock in Rio" '85 with John Sykes? Steve Vai's inspired rendition from his brief, yet lucrative, tenure (my personal favorite)? Or even a cheap-as-fuck edit of the song to some equally-cheap-as-fuck Playboy softcore video from 1989? It's up to you.
That's what it was like.
Mexicans seized the opportunity to take advantage of the situation--specifically, Naoleon's brother's systematic declawing of the Spanish military--to revolt against Spanish rule, eventually establishing the United Mexican States.
Felix Fernandez, the new republic's first president, adopted a new name (wouldn't it be fucking awesome if our presendents just, like, invented a newer, more fucking awesome name for themselves after they took office?) :
Guadalupe Victoria--the Victoria indicative of Victory, and the Guadalupe in tribute for the protection afforded by Our Lady of Guadalupe, a potent socioreligious image to this day:

Exhibit C: The Spanish-American War and the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo - 1846-1848

As I previously mentioned, the 1800's were a wacky time for national sovereignty. When the inhabitants of Texas just "felt like" seceding from Mexico in 1836, they proved that they were indeed not to be fucked with by routing the forces led by the infamous Mexican dictator Antonio López de Santa Anna. However, their independence was short-lived, as just 10 years later they "felt like" joining the United States of America. Mexico took umbrage, resulting in the Mexican-American War. We fucked them up, resulting in the above treaty. As one of its provisions, we were able to acquire the barren, uninhabited northern territories of Mexico--territories that would later become California, Nevada, and Utah--for $15,000,000. Oddly enough, if current trends continue, Mexico will be able to buy it back--perhaps for even less!

EXHIBIT D: Los Angeles - founded 1781

It would be impossible to deconstruct Menace without exploring its primary operating location. If one is to expand menace tech beyond a skateboard brand into a way of acting, a way of being, a way of talking, a way of thinking, one must consider the City of Los Angeles as as major a player as any. Indeed, the central paradox of Los Angeles mirrors the central paradox of Menace itself--the “menace” lurking beneath the surface of a seemingly idyllic town. Along those lines, Los Angeles, based on my brief visit there ten years ago, is simultaneously the most explosive and most boring city in the world. For example, one could be walking down the street and be literally the only person walking down the street. However, there was shit going on, you could tell. It was just beneath the surface, like "hot lava." The zeitgeist of this city has been depicted hundreds of times in, just off the top of my head, L.A. Confidential, Heat, Bukowski’s run-down flophouse barroom Venice of the Sixties and Seventies, the slew of ‘hood films of the early Nineties (more on that later), and my favorite scene of all time.

The power to corrupt is a central facet of this—the power exuded by the intoxicating amalgamation of money, drugs, sex, and perpetually perfect weather.

Like many dudes born in the mid-seventies, this power kicked down the door of my subconscious through something called Appetite for Destruction. I’m not going to spend that much time analyzing it, as it has been done effectively by others such as Danny Sugarman in the highly recommended Appetite for Destruction and, of course Klosterman, who, in Fargo Rock City, depicted the opening of the massively influential "Welcome to the Jungle" video thusly:

The first fifteen seconds of that vid explain everything we need to know: Axl gets off a bus in downtown L.A. with a piece of friggin hay in his mouth (and evidently, he didn’t do much chewing during the twenty-six-hour bus ride from Indiana, because it still looks pretty fresh)…I realized that Axl wasn’t welcoming me to the jungle, people were welcoming him. Suddenly, the whole album made a lot more sense: Axl Rose was screaming because he was scared.

Sex, violence, materialism—somehow, prolonged exposure to this trinity, first in a motel with Steven Adler, then, in that electric chair or whatever the fuck, metamorphosizes Axl into the shamanistic ubermensch we all know and love.

Of course, the now-defunct companies Hollywood and Hellrose appropriated this image more literally than Menace did--Kareen et. al utilized Los Angeles moreso as a metaphor for life. I missed that whole "hammers" era, but one Hollywood ad warrants mentioning--in the narrative of this ad, a young lady, a lady of the evening perhaps, or maybe the protagonist in the "Fallen Angel" song/video, has spelled out "Hollywood" in cocaine on her glass coffee table. Simply one of the most devastating ads in the history of the industry, and it would have indeed been an effective Menace ad in 1994-5.

Of course, the above transformation did not occur across the board – Enrique Lorenzo and the Lebron/Fernandez connection turned out okay. More on them later. By the way, did you know Slash went to Fairfax High (1:10 here – note shirt)? Trip the fuck out.

Exhibit E: California Gold Rush: 1848

Although this primarily affected San Francisco and Norcal, the Gold Rush set the precedent for the West Coast as a mecca for viral, exponential hypercapitalism, violence, vigilanteism, and sprawling population growth. Oh yeah, it also made that dude to the left possible. Who knows what the 49'ers would be called if ther had not, truth be told, been "gold in them thar' hills"--the SF Seals perhaps? That reminds me of the time I saw Joe Montana outside Supreme in the mid-Nineties. I can't remember what I said, maybe something like "Hey! It's Joe Montana!" He replied "Yeah yeah yeah" in a dickish way, probably thinking I was fucking with him.
Interestingly, similarly to menace tech, the Gold Rush attracted enterprising individuals from France and other European nation-states, driven in part by the cycle of revolutions that had just ripped through the continent. However, in the Nineteenth Century there would be no ironic reverse migration similar to the one that attracted Menace dudes to Europe in the mid-00's due to A) fertile spots and B)fertile bitches.Like my friend Ernesto always said, "you gotta go where the food is."

Exhibit F: Compulsory Education - 1852

Unless your name is Holden Caulfield or George W. Bush, you probably went to a public school. That's because, in this country, it's compulsory to go to school until they let you drop out or you graduate. Because of compulsory education, which was implemented initially in Massachussetts in 1852 and gradually spread across the country, it became the responsibility of the state to educate its populace. Despite the criticisms of Gatto, et al, who claim that compulsory education is, in essence, a tool used to maintain the hegemony of the ruling economic class, it resulted in a much wider dispersion of school construction. And where there are school, there are schoolyards. The proliferation of schoolyards in urban areas, particularly in the Los Angeles area, facilitated the development of menace tech.

Besides, have you ever tried to skate at Choate, Peddie, Exeter, or even Harvard-Westlake? Come to think of it, the Harvard-Westlake administration would probably let you skate there--I went to college with a bunch of dudes (and one chick who is now a B-list actress) who graduated from there, and it seemed like an ex-hippie Hollywood kind of institution. You know, the kind where you call the teachers by their first names and they encourage the kind of free-thinking cognitive-social development skating provides. Truth be told, I would fucking love to work there.

Exhibit G: Lyndon B. Johnson's Great Society - 1964

Once upon a time, governments had this "crazy" idea that their main purpose should be to enhance the quality of life of those whom they govern. LBJ was of this opinion, and he took action when he implemented a series of programs along those lines that fell under the umbrella moniker "The Great Society." The title originating from a speech he delivered in Ann Arbor Michigan in 1964:

“We are going to assemble the best thought and broadest knowledge from all over the world to find these answers. I intend to establish working groups to prepare a series of conferences and meetings—on the cities, on natural beauty, on the quality of education, and on other emerging challenges. From these studies, we will begin to set our course toward the Great Society.”

In terms of education, specifically, the Elementary and Secondary Education Act of 1965 got the ball rolling by providing previously unavailable federal aid to the most destitute public schools for materials (including, presumably, PVC picnic tables) and exceptional education. Who knows how many picnic tables and benches were subsidized by this legislation? One could even make the argument that LBJ's Great Society resulted in the Los Angeles Unified School District eventually having the means to purchase the parcel of land that would become Lockwood Elementary School--as noted in Joey Suriel's essential 48 Blocks interview.

Postscript: Truth be told, my friend "mnctech101" once made inquiries into purchasing a PVC picnic table, but found the cost prohibitive--between $500 and $1000. Knowing what I do now, that cost isn't really justified, especially when that could buy you an entire array of cinderblock ledgery/quickcrete Barcelona banks.

Still, it would be rad to have a picnic table.

Career Corner: Skate Industry Lawyer

In the summer of 1998, I worked at the Columbia Law Library as a book-shelver media assistant type dude. It was a decent enough job, I suppose; I got off around four, so I could go down to the banks/Newport (wooden bench spot here) and skate. I was afforded a chance to use the dewey decimal system. Also, working in a library, surrounded by all that knowledge and shit, was perfect for a pseudointellectual such as myself. In addition, all the female law students were hot as fuck. I was told, however, that they were all engaged--no doubt to hedge fund managers from Darien, Connecticut or some shit.
At the time, I viewed lawyers with the same disdain with which I looked at investment bankers, stockbrokers, and other such professionals--as dudes that don't actually do or produce anything of value. They just move money from one place to another. Or, in the case of lawyers, specifically, capitalize on people's misfortune. Plus I wasn't interested in taking another big fucking exam, and being surrounded by Tort all day highlighted the ponderousness of the whole law school/bar exam process. Moreover, for the most part, I'd rather be boiled in oil than argue with someone--anyone--and isn't that what lawyers do, anyway?

That was before I knew how much lawyers make per hour. Besides, there are many different routes one can take with law degree. One can go the Meadow Soprano route and provide pro bono representation to people who can't afford $5000 retainers. One can practice business/real estate law (don't know exactly what goes on there). One can also practice entertainment law, and litigate the use of music and other intellectual property in films, television, and video games. My experience in that particular sub-field of law led to the genesis of this post.
In hindsight, I should have thrown my hat in the ring and become the world's first skate industry lawyer. I would have been fucking awesome. Yes, I hate to argue. However, I am indeed Jewish. Furthermore, as documented on this site, I am adept at overanalyzing shit. Not to mention lawyers get to use the coolest office supplies, like yellow legal pads and those folders in which one can, after hole-punching, store the critical information recorded on said pads.
My thought process is as follows: entertainment lawyers seek to maximize the value of their clients. They compose and look over contracts to ensure their clients aren't getting fucked. Would this not be a useful service to provide to dudes in the industry, especially with all the contracts they sign with multi-billion-dollar publicly traded corporations? This might already be a "thing"--that is to say, there might already be a firm or group of dudes that specializes in this sub-field. But if there isn't, it simply stands to reason that wherever there are contracts and hundreds of thousand of dollars, there should be lawyers.
Fucking tons of lawyers.
So if you're looking for a career, or feel like busting out of whatever unfulfilling dead-end job you currently hold down (i.e. bitter shop guy) and starting a second career, consider skate industry lawyer. What the fuck, right?