A Funeral for ZAK

Joseph Bernard Zak, known among New York’s punk rockers as simply “ZAK,” passed away in December. He was an 80-year-old poet and lyric writer who performed with a punk rock band, Team Spider. I interviewed ZAK several times about his life over the past several years, with the intention of writing a long and detailed story about his life and the history of Team Spider.

ZAK passed away this past December. I was fortunate to know him and I’m glad I was able to attend his funeral. ZAK died with no known family, but his friends and neighbors were his family. ZAK will live on through his poetry, song lyrics, translations and fond memories.

Please take the time to remember this extraordinary New Yorker.

Community Service

Yes, it’s been too long since I’ve blogged. I do have a new column online. Check it out.

I did my community service earlier this year, in April actually, and while I may still be slightly bitter at the bullshit arrest that got me there, my community service was painless and I got another small New York City adventure out of it.

Today in New York we had a scare and a tragedy. A plane crashed into a building on the Upper East Side. Some thought it was another terrorist attack but it wasn’t. It was Yankees pitcher Cory Lidle’s plane. Lidle and another person in the plane were killed. The city was scared, then sad, and will likely brush this incident up with all the other violent accidents and other happenings around the city.

If You Can’t Stand the Heat, Get Out of The City

We are in the middle of second heat wave, and I’m not happy about it. I can’t stand the heat, I really can’t. In my latest column, I detail why New York City summers are more miserable and oppressive than summer in other places.

One factor that I don’t mention in my column: roaches. New York City is plagued with roaches, and the summer heat makes them reproduce faster. For seriously infested buildings like mine, all the cleaning and spraying cannot compete with summer heat when it comes to the fight against roaches.

I’m leaving town this weekend, if New York City doesn’t black out before I go (knock on wood).

Keep cool and enjoy.

Poetry

My first published book arrived recently in the mail – it’s a book of poems titled Poems for Toiling in Obscurity. I gave a copy to Joel Allegretti, a legitimately good poet, and he liked them.

I’m such a lazy bastard though (as you can tell by how infrequently I post to this blog), that I haven’t done much to promote my book. Then again, only 48 people need to buy a copy in order for me to sell out.

These poems are sitting on a box on my desk, destined to be cheap gifts to people (I already sent one to my sister for her birthday).

Get yours today.

The Bright Side of Summer

Outside the air conditioned cocoon where I have confined myself today, temperatures topped 90˚ F. I can’t stand the heat. New York gets miserable when it’s hot. Heat is soaked up and stored by concrete and asphalt; exhaust from cars is trapped by buildings. People begin to get angrier and the summer sets in. More arguments break out in public and more arguments turn into fistfights and shootings. For people who hate the heat, the summer is miserable in New York City.

What keep New Yorkers sane are two things: getting out of the city occasionally and seeing attracted people of the opposite sex (or the same sex if you’re so inclined) in less clothing. For me, Breast Season starts sometime in May and is in full swing by the end of June. It’s difficult not to be caught starting at plump mammaries that are begging for your attention on the subways, streets, office buildings, restaurants and beaches every year. I have no doubt that at least 60% of sunglasses purchases by males during the summer months are motivated by the desire to breast watch with discretion.

So if we must put up with the shorter tempters, humid air and skin cancer, let’s at least celebrate the improved view.

If You Build It, I Won’t Go: Save Yankee Stadium

My latest column is finally here. I don't know if it will change any hearts and minds and make a difference, but as a New Yorker and a Yankees fan I must speak up against the terrible plan to tear down Yankee Stadium.

I hope you agree with me.

Snowblind

Today New York City sits under the heaviest snow on record. We surpassed 1947’s record snowfall of 26.4 with 26.9 inches. That’s a lot of inches. And it’s still snowing.

I’m holed up in my apartment in Inwood, thankful I had enough food in my refrigerator to preclude a trip to the supermarket. At this point it would be easier to hunt small game out of the lobby windows of my building, as Inwood Hill Park is right across the street. I’ve seen raccoons at night and I bet the ones we’ve got here in the city are rip and fat and good for eating. The raccoons would probably not be out though; they plan better for snowstorms than the rest of us city dwellers.

Last night, as the snow began to accumulate, I made some snowballs and threw them at my friends. My days of expert snowball making and throwing are well behind me and I am out of practice.

Freedom from Religion

This is considered the most offensive cartoon on the planet right now. Muslims have killed innocent people for this cartoon, burned down Danish diplomatic offices in Lebannon, and logged thousands of death threats against the cartoonist and publisher of this work. I offer it here in solidarity with those who oppose fundamentalist Islam and all other ignorant ideologies.

Barbarians at the Second Avenue Deli

In my latest column, I lament the destruction of our fair city by greedy landlords. New York is slowly being turned into a Disney-esque disgrace. There are city blocks with multiple Starbucks at the same time that live music venues, neighborhood bars and anything with history or character is torn down and paved over in the name of “progress.”

McHale’s on 8th Avenue and 46th Street is the latest casualty in this war against culture and character. A successful bar and restaurant, it had some of the best burgers in the city. It attracted all kinds of people and was my preferred place to eat in midtown/Hell’s Kitchen. It was where I met my girlfriend and where I interviewed such interesting people as the High Priest of the Church of Satan and Suicide Girl Debra Jean Danger.

One issue I don’t touch on in this column, because it’s worth a column all its own, is the plan to build a new Yankee Stadium and tear down the House that Ruth Built. Not only will this plan build a stadium over park land that has fewer seats for fans, but this will all be done with millions of our tax dollars. I’m a Yankee fan, that doesn’t mean I want to be raped by George Steinbrenner. This plan would do just that to all New York City taxpayers.

Happy New Year

It’s a New Year and it’s already off to a bad start. Thirteen miners are trapped in West Virginia, an ice rink roof collapsed in Germany, killing at least five people, and a plane crashed into the Hudson River not far from my home (both passengers survived). So far not as bad as last year’s Tsunami, but if current trends continue, it’s going to be a rough 2006.

Happy New Year.

Me and the Tax Man

Here is my latest GetUnderground.com column, where I describe my most recent losing battle with the I.R.S. I’m still battling New York State’s smaller and more bitter cousin to the I.R.S. That might be a losing battle as well. Wish me luck.

Black List: HAVING TO VOTE FOR A THIRD PARTY LOSER

Last week I voted for a third party candidate in this year’s mayoral election because I couldn’t vote for either of the major candidates. I was hoping for a more interesting yet still palatable candidate for mayor but I was out of luck.

As expected, Mayor Bloomberg rolled right over his Democratic challenger. Bloomberg is a much better mayor than I thought he would be, and he has the businesslike demeanor and independent thinking that New Yorkers respect. He runs the city well, when he’s not trying to swindle the taxpayers with multi-million dollar giveaways to greedy developers or having the police ride roughshod over the First Amendment. I guess I should be thankful that the more competent of two evils one.

Last Word on New Orleans, For Now

Yes, I know: long time, no blog. I’ve been busy and lazy, though not necessarily in that order.

My latest column went up on GetUnderground at the start of this month and documents my visit to New Orleans this summer and some thoughts about the aftermath. It think it’s one of my better columns in recent memory.

From Blackout Matt: R.I.P. Al of Hate

From Blackout Matt:

Like anyone else that ever met him or saw him perform, I was very sad to learn of Al of Hate’s death.

The first thing that I noticed when I saw Eyes of Hate for the first time was that their singer didn’t stand on the stage. Al stood in front of the stage, among the fans. I’ve seen them about a half a dozen times, not including the two shows they played with Blackout Shoppers, and every time Al was down in front of the stage.

Al was the lead singer and therefore the band’s most visible member, but he did away with the barrier between band and audience and refused the pedestal of the stage. He was a powerful and charismatic front man who insisted that the fans be in the spotlight with him. While he prowled back and forth and commanded the room, Al never denied anyone a chance to sing along.

The first time Blackout Shoppers played with them, Eyes of Hate had one of their fans join them on stage and play bass for several songs. While she was getting situated, Antonio the guitar player and Jay the drummer launched into an impromptu version of Slayer’s ‘Reign in Blood.’ It rocked, but Al wasn’t about to be distracted from giving one of his fans a chance to play with her favorite band and he cut them off. Few bands are as trustworthy and as caring about their fans as that.

The second time we played with Eyes of Hate was earlier this year at Grand Central Bar in Brooklyn. Due to some bands canceling at the last minute, we scrambled to help fill the open slots on the bill. Eyes of Hate was one of the bands to accept our invitation only about a week before the show. They ended up bringing the largest number of fans and making the show one of the best we’ve ever played.

That show they played with us was one of three that they played that day. Talking to Al outside the bar, I marveled at how they could do that. Al didn’t complain about how tired he was or anything, but just shrugged it off. It’s what you have to do if you’re in a band, he explained to me. You have to work. He gave me encouragement and said that if we wanted to travel more we need to invest in getting a van. Playing three shows in one day just wouldn’t be possible for them without their van, he said.

Al personified and voiced both the thrills and frustrations of living in New York, most notably in an Eyes of Hate song ‘Sweet Home New York City,’ done in the tune of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Sweet Home Alabama.’ He sang a song in Spanish and at one point had been studying Korean to better communicate with some of his neighbors.

He was a hardcore punk through and through and made aggressive music that had people moshing up a storm, but refused to cater to Neanderthals and thugs intent on meaningless violence. He sang about the importance of questioning authority and his political lyrics were not based on blind adherence to ideology but to a deep and abiding respect for New York and America’s beleaguered working class.

After Al died, I learned more about him as the Internet lit up with stories and condolences. Al would use his van to take people to shows, would pay for those too broke to attend or sneak people into shows that were underage. Cutie Calamity from the band S.M.U.T. told of how once Al booked a show just for her at the Knitting Factory when she really needed cheering up. Cutie is now busy booking shows to pay tribute to Al of Hate and I’m sure has more bands wanting to play than she could ever book.

At his funeral five days after his death, family, fans and friends filled the chapel where his funeral service was held. As the service got under way, a crush of punk rockers, many wearing Eyes of Hate t-shirts, packed into the chapel until there was no place left to sit. The spectacle of conservatively dressed family members turning around in their seats to witness the mob of punks filling the room was one I’m sure Al would enjoy.

Eyes of Hate bass player Tommy was the first person to speak at the funeral. He marveled at the band’s progress and his times with Al. One day he met Al at a show and before he knew it they were making music and traveling the country together.

I can’t help but feel a deep sense of regret. Regret I didn’t get to know Al as well, regret we didn’t get to play more shows with him, but most of all regret for what the punk rock world and New York City has lost.

Blackout Matt

Road Trip to New Orleans, Part II

My latest column follows my and Melissa’s journey from Roanoke, Virginia to New Orleans. The highlight of this leg of the journey was our drive along the Natchez Trace Parkway.

We ended up staying the night in Tupelo, Mississippi, which is the birthplace of Elvis Presley. We didn’t get to see any Elvis Presley related historic sites there, but managed to see plenty of interesting things while driving along the Natchez Trace.

Sadly, it seems most people who drive in that vicinity don’t take the time to visit this beautiful national park. I hope this column inspires people to take the time to enjoy things when they travel. You never know when you’re going to get the opportunity to do and see something again.

Road Trip to New Orleans, Part I

My latest column looks at the first leg of my road trip to New Orleans. Overall the trip was a great success. I got to see interesting parts of the country and spend a few days in New Orleans with Melissa Lewis, poet extraordinaire.

It’s important to get outside of the city, especially in the summertime when the heat is particularly unforgiving of urban areas. Just to maintain one’s own sanity, get out and breathe the fresh air and step on green grass. Sit under a tree by yourself in a yard or forest.

The more one travels America, the more one loves but is frustrated by America. This is a beautiful country populated by great people, but I can’t help the overwhelming feeling that we have been heading in the wrong direction as a country for quite some time now. I try to address some of this in my column, but will have more of that in Part II.

No Olympics? No Problem.

Yesterday New Yorkers got the news we’ve been waiting for: the 2012 Olympics will not be coming to New York City. Few were surprised and fewer were disappointed, as the Olympics promised to be a financial disaster for the city.

New York doesn’t need the Olympics. We already have millions of tourists coming here every year. We already have enough facilities in the greater metropolitan area to host the Olympic Games. In light of this, it looked more and more like a well-crafted excuse to give away large parcels of real estate and tax dollars to private developers.

While the stadium plan for the West side of Manhattan fortunately fizzled, the plans to destroy the Prospect Heights area of Brooklyn with the Brooklyn Atlantic Yards development project continue unabated. One of the borough’s most interesting neighborhoods will be destroyed by this project. The effort to blight the area in advance of construction has already taken its toll.

The Brooklyn Atlantic Yards project threatens to be another sad chapter in city history unless we can stop it. Also, whatever happens to be built over the West side rail yards, it likely won’t benefit the average New Yorker one bit – just like the proposed stadium.

Getting Arrested

My latest column documents my first arrest. I’m not proud of getting arrested, but neither am I ashamed of what I did to get arrested. I hope you’ll agree that the general public would have been better served had the police simply issued me a ticket and let me go on my way, but maybe it was a slow night.

While my story may be humorous, there are much more serious matters to do with the NYPD and whom they arrest. If you have an opportunity, attend a screening or order a DVD of Still We Ride, a documentary about the NYPD’s war against cyclists.

Von Von Von's Vontastic Show

Earlier this week I went to the Lower East Side to catch '80s pop sensation Von Von Von screen a documentary about his life and perform some songs. I normally prefer punk rock music, but Von Von Von is one of my favorite acts from the 1980s. I was lucky enough to interview him and write a story about him a few years back.

Von's fall from grace was so tremendous and abrupt that even those of us who wanted to drive the final nail into the coffin of 1980s Euro-pop were rooting for Von. After all, unlike his contemporaries he had a rich musical background as a classical harmonica protégé and was one of the truly inspiring lyricists from that period. Also, Von Von Von has an authenticity that is otherwise completely absent from pop music.

Von played at a club called Pianos and he had the place packed. It was tough to get to the bar and even tougher to see the action when the show started. Von was looking good, sporting a belt buckle that doubled as an electronic screen alternately scrolling ‘Von Von Von’ and ‘Vontastic.’

The Vontastic one opened the show with his new hit 'House of Von’ and followed it up with his hit ‘Making Love.’ Then the documentary rolled. It was well made and comprehensive, covering the Von’s early rise as a pop sensation, the rough years spent working his way back out of obscurity at a Bitchen Schnitzel in Berlin and his triumphant return to the stage at the famous Apollo Theater.

You should definitely go see Von Von Von when you get a chance.

New York: Refuge from America's Celebrity Sickness

If you walk around New York long enough, you’ll see somebody famous. New York is about not caring how famous someone is. Don’t gawk at or squeal with glee at celebrities, it insults our city. The U.S.A. is already too celebrity obsessed. Let New York be a refuge from that. That’s the point of my latest column.