I've spent hours on the phone talking to troubled people needing advice in the past week, from dead friends to being kicked out the house to job loss. One teen-aged male was calling from Bremerton contemplating suicide, we talked for four hours about how to make his life ridiculous instead of just throwing it away. By the end of the phone call we were laughing hard after we decided to watch an episode of Trailer Park Boys together, over the phone. He called back the next morning to thank me and asked if I would describe the rest of my day to him. We talked about clothing for a bit because I have a uniform that I usually wear, the same t-shirt and pair of pants everyday. I've been wearing these clothes for most of the past 12 months and they're in tatters. I usually wear an army shirt to cover the t-shirt when I leave the house, because the t-shirt has giant holes in it. I can't seem to bring myself to get rid of it though; it's the most comfortable thing in the world. I explained that I have 37 pairs of the same exact black Old Navy socks. When we got to the topic of shoes I was baffled to realize that I own 15 pairs of them. If I could be accused of hoarding anything, it would be shoes. I have some that should have been thrown away ages ago, and as I described each pair, I realized why I kept nearly all of them without really noticing.

#1 Converse All-Stars, purchased in April 2001: I wore these shoes for approximately three years in Chicago, IL. In that time "our nation's tragedy" occurred, the day my mother called to tell me that the Sears Tower had been destroyed by airplanes. I looked out the window to see that it was still there and later wore these shoes during a trip to Haiti just after the border was re-opened. Looking at these shoes now I think the only reason that I never threw them away is because they still seem perfectly wearable. I've never retired a pair in the past until they were absolutely falling apart. I find these shoes to be classically uncomfortable and hardly protective against the elements. You might as well just wrap duct tape around your feet.

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Charlie Cooper, a member of New Orleans electronic-music duo Telefon Tel Aviv, passed away Jan. 22 at age 31. Cause of death has not been reported at this time.

TTA released their third album, Immolate Yourself (Bpitch Control), Jan. 20. The group had built up a loving, sizable fan base through their technically proficient beat programming and sophisticated melodic sense, winning over Nine Inch Nails fans, IDM heads, and aficionados of melancholic, ’80s-inflected electro pop in substantial numbers. TTA were also in demand as remixers, reconfiguring tracks by NIN, jazz great Phil Ranelin, and Tool singer Maynard James Keenan’s Puscifer project. TTA played a well-received set at the 2005 Decibel Fest in Seattle.

Surviving TTA member Joshua Eustis wrote the following eulogy:

It breaks my heart to inform you all that Charlie Cooper, my better half in Telefon Tel Aviv, passed away on January 22nd.

We have been friends since high school, and began making records together a decade ago. We have been so fortunate to tour the world together, while at the same time having a massive amount of laughs at one another's expense.

Aside from Charlie's singular genius and musical gifts, I can tell you that he was a total sweetheart of a guy, and a loving friend and confidant to people everywhere. His musicianship was surpassed only by his greater gift to the world - his warmth, his generosity, his unquenchable humor, and his undying loyalty to those whom he loved. In the spirit of honorable mention, however, I should mention that he had a shoe collection that was marvelous, knowledge of hip-hop that was profound, and knowledge of wine that was subtle.

He is survived by a sister, a niece, a nephew, his mother, his stepfather, me, and more adoring friends than the Universe has dark matter. As such, his family and I ask for your discretion and consideration of our privacy during these extremely turbulent waters.

Yours in Music,
Joshua Eustis

The Stooges’ late Ron Asheton was one of the most influential and vital guitarists in rock history. Not a technical virtuoso nor a versatile player, Asheton instead dazzled through the power and intensity of his attack, his primal, unforgettable riffs, and his scabrous, incendiary textures. He needed to ratchet up his sound to match Iggy Pop’s outsized personality and mic/stage presence, and that Asheton did, with flying sparks. His incisive, potent m.o. provided crucial DNA for the evolution of metal, punk, and glam rock.

In honor of his sadly early passing at age 60 earlier this month, I present what I think are Asheton’s most impressive moments. I could easily go on all day on this topic; it wasn’t easy to narrow them down to this number. (Here are NME's top 5 Asheton riffs.)

“Little Doll”: Those opening explosions and that descending riff: so much uplift and doom economically packed into one piece. The solo that occupies the second half becomes increasingly unnerving, mirroring Iggy’s abject desperation.

“No Fun”: Man, what a grinding, satisfying riff. When Iggy implores, “Come on, Ron, tell ’em how I, tell ’em how I, tell ’em how I feel,” Asheton responds with rousing, “at the end of his tether” exclamations in the six-string equivalent of boldfaced italics.

“Loose”: If you haven’t fucked or fought to this song, then you really haven’t fucked or fought. Birthday Party and many others were inspired to cover it, but nobody beats the original.

“Dirt”: Always made me think this was the Stooges trying to be Funkadelic circa 1970 (which is actually the year “Dirt” came out, but the groups were in close proximity). Asheton at his most crystalline and Eddie Hazel-esque.

“We Will Fall”: Proves Asheton was no one-shtick pony. You can hear the seeds of Swans and Loop in this haunting, simmering dirge.

"Down on the Street": Guitar as stalking wildcat, all animalistic urges/id-iful lust—yet precise with it.

In addition to jazz trumpeter Freddie Hubbard passing away Dec. 29 at age 70 (btw, my favorite Hubbard LP is 1971’s Sing Me a Song of Songmy, which he recorded with Turkish electroacoustic composer Ilhan Mimaroglu), Delaney Bramlett and guitarist/vocalist John Byrne of the Count Five breathed their last in December 2008, too.

Bramlett—who attained his greatest notoriety for his role in Delaney, Bonnie & Friends—was a tremendous soul singer, deft guitarist, and writer of powerfully moving and catchy songs like “Let It Rain” and “Comin’ Home.” He was close friends with rock royalty like George Harrison, Eric Clapton, and the Allman Brothers, but he never attained their household-name status.

John Byrne wrote and sang the Count Five’s immortal garage-rock rave-up nugget “Psychotic Reaction,” which you should play whenever you need an energy burst.

Much respect to these three gifted musicians.

Count Five’s “Psychotic Reaction”

Delaney, Bonnie & Friends’ “Comin’ Home”

Jimi Hendrix Experience drummer Mitch Mitchell passed away Nov. 12 in a Portland hotel room; he had been on tour with a Jimi Hendrix tribute band. Mitchell—who was born in Ealing, England—was 61. Mitchell's death is suspected to be from natural causes, but an autopsy has yet to be conducted.

Mitchell played on JHE’s fantastic triumvirate of LPs—Are You Experienced?, Axis: Bold as Love, and Electric Ladyland—which represents some of the most innovative rock ever. Playing behind perhaps the world's greatest rock guitarist, Mitchell rose to the occasion with his distinctive style, which merged dexterous, intricate jazz fills with mercurial, powerful rock timekeeping. He embodied a fluid combination of John Bonham’s brute force and funkiness, Keith Moon’s manic energy, and Elvin Jones' intuitive knack for nuanced dynamics. After he left the Experience in 1970, Mitchell played with Jeff Beck, Jack Bruce, and Terry Reid, among others.

Last night at the Moore Theatre during their encore, Medeski Martin + Wood paid tribute to Mitchell with a dazzling, abstract rendition of the Experience’s "Crosstown Traffic."

Respect to one of the best sticksmen ever, Mitch Mitchell.

Jimi Hendrix Experience’s "If 6 Was 9"

"You Got Me Floatin'"

"Spanish Castle Magic" live

Dee Dee Warwick sister of Dionne Warwick AND Rudy Ray Moore the "Human Tar-nadah" or "King Of The Party Records", prolly best known as Dolemite, have both died.

Dee Dee was only 63...dig her genius!

Moore died in Akron, OH, from diabetes, he was 81. Some of his family live in Spokane and word is there will be a memorial there as well as in Akron. Dig, I couldn't find great a pic of Dolemite SHIRTLESS (as THAT is how he should always been seen) so y'all will just hafta enjoy his aural throwdowns.

And I HAD to include this...