Another Rawk Book

I am a sucker for the rock autobiography. The greatest regret of my life outside of not being a short reliever for the Giants, is not having been a kickass guitarist in a rock band during my early 20s. I have no talent, so it's not surprising this never came about. But I love reading about those who even for a few short moments get to be up there on stage cranking it out for an audience that loves them and will remember that moment, like say New York in 1977.

Blondie was one of those bands. I know, they became silly and sort of disco-y. But before that they shared the same influence and scene as The Ramones. They dug that golden age of 60s AM pop. And a closer listen to the first few records turns up some gems like X-Offender, Rip Her To Shreds, Out in the Streets, Always Touched by Your Presence. Great Shangri-La stuff but with more grit and guitars. And Debbie Harry was smoking in those days.

So I read New York Rocker by bassist Gary Valentine. His tenure with the band was short. Just the first record or so. But that's the era that I care about. Like all good rock bios, there is a ton of info that fills in the dots of others you have read about NY and the CBGB/Max's scene. In short, The Ramones are cool, Patti Smith is a bitch, and everything in New York smelled, was broken and there was no other place you would rather be. Iggy's in here, and so is Bowie and Lou.

Which isn't to say New York Rocker is well- written. It isn't. But it's mindless fun. And for a few hours I forgot about the drapes that haven't arrived, the two girls on their way and that business trip to Portland. I almost felt like I was in a real big band for a moment. If only for a few minutes.

What Are You Listenin' To Summer

Abner Jay- Folk Song Stylist- another side of Abner, with no dick jokes or novelty numbers, what do you know- he sure can sing. My favorite purchase of the past several months, and an enjoyable listen all the way through, even if I do occasionally imagine him as a tweener Charles Barkley singing gospel- "Toiirible things."

The Sins- Smash Crack-Up Pop- I'm not sure the world needed another Original Sins record, but I'm buying, I'm buying. This is no return to greatness, but it's a pleasant way to spend forty minutes. Support Brother JT- he is an American treasure.

Sugar Shack- Get Out of My World- now that it's a cliche to blast Estrus, let me stand up for these stalwarts of that roster. Again, this ain't world-changing, but this, their best record, does the just-add punk energy to your 60s licks exceedingly well. I picked this up for a buck. You should, too.

Jerry Jeff Walker- Viva Terlingua- my favorite dusk record these days, this one be good for the tall glass with plenty of ice and a big sloppy smile. Up against the wall, redneck mother.

Spider Bags- A Celebration of Hunger- they win the anthem competition for "Waking Up Drunk," and the looseness of the arrangements and the smashed hootenany spirit that infuses this whole thang just hits me right. It sounds like it was recorded on the porch with no jar sitting empty for long. Righteous country shit.

Is this enough?

Everybody loves a halftime report, especially from the nearly defeated who wonder about the gall Chris Cohan must have not to grab his check and get the fuck out of Dodge already. But I digress. The Giants had a slightly disappointing first half with one horrible stretch and a relentlessly awful time within their own division, which kept them mired in mediocrity. Can they shock us all and rise above the pack? Let's have a look at the hitters-

Pablo Sandoval- the Internet buzz is that the panda is going through a divorce, which is just so depressing on any level for a 23-year old with a daughter, but it's even more upsetting when you ponder the goofy joy the man brings to the dugout. He is still strong at third, but he looks lost at the plate, especially from the right side. The cliche is that he is the big bat the Giants need in the second half, and they'd get it for nothing. Still, let's face it- he stunk, given what he did last year. C-

Juan Uribe- If Larry Kruger were still around, this man might get him fired again. Yes, he provided the early power that kept the boys in many games, but he hit a woeful slump in the last month that may (or may not) have been caused by a finger injury. Stop hacking at slop, Juan, and maybe we can talk Harvard at the end of the year. B

Edgar Renteria- I don't care what his batting average is (and throw out that first Houston series and where would he be?)- the man cannot hit. Did you see him bail out against Strasburg? My son has far more balls, and those pitchers are throwing from forty feet. The only reason he doesn't fail is that he's always hurt so he's not on the field hurting the team. He just collects checks. You have plenty to choose from, but this is arguably Sabean's worst signing. D-

Buster Posey- I saw him make plays at first that screamed "athlete." Watched him throw out runners and thought, Mr. Bench? Saw him hit homers deep into right-center and pondered, Our Saviour? He's not Will Clark yet, but allow the jaded some hope. A

Andres Torres- During one stretch he made an ESPN catch every night, and at times he is exactly the spark plug they need in the leadoff spot. He still strikes out too much and is prone to slump, but he's played far better than anyone thought he could. B+

Freddy Sanchez- If I hear one more person say "professional hitter" I'm going to gag harder than the last time I heard John Kerrey say "blood and treasure." Sanchez does, however, give you the impression he'll make contact. He's solid at the plate and in the field, and he does the little things a #2 hitter should do. Now get that average up and stay healthy. B

Eli Whiteside- a cult waiting to happen. The Billy Bob Thornton of baseball. How do you grade a phenomenon like this? A+ (for hair stylings and accent)

Nate Schierholtz- this was supposed to be the year, until it wasn't. I'm not sure if expectations for this local native are too high or he just can't handle prime time, but he's one of the biggest disappointments of the year. D

Aaron Rowand- Ain't it painful watching him hit? He looks like he can't get comfortable on an airplane toilet seat. He epitomizes this blog's title, and then once a month he'll hit a homer to save a game, which is more than Renteria does. D

Pat Burrell- in some ways, he's like a slight upgrade on Bengie Molina- he's old and slow and past his prime, but occasionally he hits for power when he's not striking out. Provided some stability in left when they needed it, but he is way too slow to roam the outfield and I'm guessing his slump is around the corner. B

Travis Ishikawa- can you sell your soul to the tao? For most of this man's career, I'd rather see Jonathan Sanchez pinch hit for him, but all of a sudden, he looks like he's found an approach. He said he spent hours in the tunnel hitting against a machine from thirty feet, and if that works I need to get junior back to the cages. He is still Travis Ishikawa and he's still only had 65 at-bats, but lately, some of those have been hits! Shocking! A-

Aubrey Huff- Is this guy really fifty years old? Is he the most grizzled man in professional sports? Well, he may also be the best bargain in the league, because his first half was all-star caliber for three million. That swing looks funky at times, especially when he's grounding to second, but his power numbers and clutch hitting have allowed this team to hang around. A

Fresh

It's Time

Hup Holland!

Go Paraguay