Eric R. Danton | Sound Check

Back in a flash

I'm on vacation for the next two weeks, so blog posts will be sporadic. Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Too much burger for one hand

Heavy metal doesn't often intersect with food, except at Kuma's Corner.

The Chicago bar is home to what (some) locals call Metal Burgers: Huge beef patties loaded up with various fixings and served on a pretzel roll, for a decadent high-calorie gorging experience like no other.

The burgers are named for heavy metal bands, including Black Sabbath, Metallica, Motorhead, Iron Maiden, Mastodon and Led Zeppelin. The best menu description belongs to the Slayer burger: "Pile of fries topped with a 1/2-lb Black Angus burger, chili, cherry peppers, andouille, onions, Jack cheese and anger." (See the full menu here.)

Tempting though the Slayer burger was, I opted instead for the Neurosis (pictured): cheddar, swiss, sauteed mushrooms, caramelized onions and horseradish mayo. It was delicious. And I wasn't hungry again for about a day and a half.

The owners are big fans of localism, devoting menu space to preaching in favor of local beers (and against Budweiser in particular, for some reason) and name-dropping Chicago-area metal bands, including my new favorite, Lair of the Minotaur.

Viva Las Vegas?

This is the story of America. Everybody's doing what they think they're supposed to do.
                   — Jack Kerouac, from "On The Road"

It's also the story of Las Vegas, the land of padded push-up bras and flop sweat.

Vegas is no longer a remote and arid redoubt run by the mob, the safe haven for Frank Sinatra or Elvis Presley.

This glittering city in the desert is a giant neon cliche, selling an image to refugees fleeing, for a while, their own banality — people eager, almost desperate, to party, because this is where rich and famous people party, and there is nothing more American than emulating the rich and famous.

Things to do in Portland when you're alive

Portland, Ore., is the kind of town a music fan can love.

Not only does Oregon's biggest city attract the best bands around, it has produced some of the best bands around, and is home to some that relocated to be there: The Decemberists, the Shins, Sleater-Kinney, Elliott Smith (and Heatmiser), Quasi, the Dandy Warhols, Lifesavas, the Kingsmen, Paul Revere & the Raiders, Everclear and Norfolk & Western all have Portland connections.

There are great shops, street festivals, restaurants and people-watching. So let's explore Portland.

South Washington brokedown

On a clear day, the train ride from Seattle to Portland, Ore., features breathtaking scenery: Puget Sound, Mt. Rainier, rivers, leafy hills.

Our ride today also included an unbilled bonus: The locomotive breaking down an hour outside of Portland, followed by a wait of 75 minutes while a freight company sent one of its engines to help Amtrak complete the journey.

Ah, subsidized rail travel: Getting what you pay for since 1971.

Music in the air, Vicious on the wall

There's music everywhere in Panama City, in restaurants, shops, on buses, hotel lobbies, you name it. A lot of it is stuff you'd hear on the radio around here (or you would if radio around here was any good), though it's not all American/British -- there were plenty of South American performers, too.

One thing I didn't hear, though, was punk rock, so I was surprised to see this graffito of Sid Vicious spray-painted on a retaining wall outside an outdoor basketball court near my hotel. I'm curious who put it there, and whether there's an underground punk scene in what is a fairly conservative place. Next trip: Discovering the hidden punk-rockers of Panama ...

Panama City, but not Florida

I'm posting this from a Mailboxes Etc. in Panama City, Panama, where I've been on vacation since last Friday.

It's a large and growing city of roughly 1.5 million people, many of whom seem to spend a significant amount of time in their cars. Traffic is always jammed, and accidents are by no means rare.

Although there's no mistaking the city for, say, Hartford, there are elements of American culture everywhere. Fast-food restaurants abound, there's a TGIFriday's attached to our hotel (which is a Country Inn & Suites) and Gwen Stefani is currently blaring from the soundsystem of the Mailboxes Etc.

I'll be back in the States Friday, and I'll post some other thoughts about the country over the weekend.

Back in a flash

I'll be away on vacation for the next week or so, without ready access to a computer. So blog posts are likely to be infrequent, though I'll file something quick if and when I can.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Overcooked Rice

Friends, we face a serious challenge. It will take teamwork, dedication and more than a little hard work to overcome it, but I know that together we can do it. That's right, I'm talking about stamping out the music of Damien Rice in our lifetime.

It's the pomposity that must be stopped. Rice fancies himself a tortured Irish poet, and his songs are full of melodramatic bon mots like, "Do you brush your teeth before you kiss?/Do you miss my smell?" But he's not so good with, you know, melody. I still think Rice's 2003 album, "O," was that year's most overrated, and he's been a bore both times I've seen him in concert.

He's popular, it's true -- a good chunk of the audience came to Mohegan Sun Monday to see him and not Fiona Apple, the headliner. But here are a half-dozen acts who do what Rice does, only better: The Frames. David Gray. Alexi Murdoch. Patrick Park. Mark Geary. Jeff Buckley. (Yes, I realize that Buckley died in 1997.)

If we collectively support these artists instead of Rice, it's possible that he just might go away, leaving a better world for our children. Please, won't someone think of the children?

New London to San Diego

Even in Southern California, there are touches of Connecticut. While perusing the bins this afternoon at a San Diego record store called M-Theory Music, I came across a used vinyl copy of "Cruise to Nowhere," the third album by New London band the Reducers. 

Robert Christgau, head music writer for the Village Voice and self-proclaimed "Dean of American Rock Critics," gave the record a B+ on his website.