Ever run into a person from New York City? Certainly you haven't run into anyone from New York City, but rather someone
who, after leaving their farming village or mid-level, mundane existence in
some random suburb across the United States who read a romance novel or
pseudo-intellectual novel or watched a cinema film of questionable value and
decided hey, New York City is the place
to be! Because Sinatra sang about it
(dude, he sang about everywhere), then it must be A-OK!
So they pack their bags and run up there and maybe five
years later, they infest some other city in a more civilized portion of America
and say ridiculous things like "I'm still not used to the pace here after living in New York"
or bemoan the dearth of Chinese joints open at four in the morning or lament
the lines into the nightclubs are too short.
Or refer to Manhattan as THE CITY
and expect everyone to know what they are talking about.
With the exception of the horrible events that took place
against America on September 11, 2001 a.d., I love it when bad things happen to
New Yorkers. Frankenstorms, massive
blackouts, the Yankees losing in the playoffs ... these things give me a
perverted sense of glee and it honestly is not because of some geopolitical or
socioeconomic or historic facet, but rather because of New Yorkers or former
New Yorkers or even wannabe New Yorkers.
No, it is not the city that I hate, but rather the people.
Some will jump to defend the arrogant populace, claiming
that New York has such great theatre.
Really? Those plays aren't
reproduced across the country in smaller, more friendly confines? How many of those playwrights are actually
from the city? I've seen better plays
from writers in Dublin, Brazil, other places... No, you don't get that
one.
I actually like Saturday
Night Live when it's good, but those players are trained in Chicago's
Second City.
The crossword puzzle from The New York Times trumps all other crossword puzzles, but the
great Will Shortz is from Indiana and is Indiana-proud, so they don't even get
that.
You see, with the prolificacy of the Internet, we are no
longer reliant on Hollywood or New York City for great works. Film can easily be made, showcased, and
distributed without selling out to the Great Western Casting Couch, sucking up
to sycophants and braving earthquakes.
Theatre and literature can actually exist outside of the five boroughs, without
having to deal with the nation's largest taxi queue. Some folks are realizing this, but it is
hardly a movement. No, the only thing clinging
our art so desperately to these two outmoded cities are the limited mindset of
the Perfectly Average.
So hail the land of your birth, or re-birth, or a reasonable
facsimile thereof. To have an
inferiority complex because you aren't exactly like thirty million other
douchebags is just plain ridiculous.
There is no need to go packing your bags to run off to The City because of outmoded societal
goals. Thanks to brilliant writers like
William Gay, Cormac McCarthy, Daniel Woodrell and yes, even Faulkner, the South
is again beautiful and mysterious and crooked.
So why on earth would we need New York?
So with that, I hail a city that, in a steel cage match,
would bludgeon the shit out of the City that Never Shuts Up. If they can make it there, they can make it
anywhere...
TOP TEN SONGS ABOUT
DALLAS, TEXAS
Inspired by the stylings of Jimmie Rodgers, "the Blue
Yodeler," Autry celebrates one of Big D's greatest institutions. Known as "The Dallas Hotel" by locals,
the imposing structure looms large just South of downtown in the psyche of
everyone crossing the river for liquor.
It doesn't rate highly on its own
Yelp page, but don't let that sway you from enjoying its amenities next
time you are in town. True to the
nickname, it allegedly was once a working hotel, but contrary to urban myth,
not the one where the Beatles stayed during their 1964 tour. That was the Cabana Motor Hotel which,
coincidentally enough, is now a minimum security jail.
There is no other song that sums up my experience growing up
in Dallas or, more appropriately, South of Dallas. If you've ever driven a Plymouth Turismo,
perhaps you understand. In the
succession of shitty cars I drove as I crossed the landscape of Lancaster,
Duncanville, Wilmer-Hutchins, Ennis and environs, Cedar Hill, and yes, even
DeSoto, I spent many days with my car (or my friend's cars - think: shitty VW
bug with a skull painted on the hood) on the side of the road. This was before cell phones, when a person
had to walk to the nearest payphone. In
Texas heat. No, people are pussies now,
plain and simple.
8. "Bullet" by The Misfits
Travel the world over and Dallas is
known for three things: JR Ewing and Southfork, The Dallas Cowboys, and
JFK. On November 22, 1963, Dallas
secured its spot for assassination buffs, conspiracy theorists, and rubberneckers
galore, cementing words like "magic bullet," "grassy
knoll," and "second shooter" into our nation's vocabulary. Previous to 9.11, no other event generated
memories from a generation as to "where they were" and for every
person in Dallas, there are as many theories as to what happened that day.
"That dirty, dirty river"
created the city of Dallas, as John Neely Bryan believed people would travel
the river from the coast, making Big D a hotbed of activity. This was not to be. Today, the river remains a developmental
dream, resting on a levee of promises.
Driving over 45 with the windows down results in a carload of passengers
eyeing each other suspiciously. During
droughts, corpses surface, as the Trinity is a popular body dump. The river's lowlands once gave birth to a notorious
class of criminal in the West Dallas bottomlands from which sprung forth such
names as Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow.
Without the Trinity, there is no Dallas, despite her valiant attempts to
forget her and push her aside. For once
they are done with her, they no doubt will make another one.
Dallas has more bars and
restaurants per capita than any other
city in America. That includes THE
CITY (you know which one I'm talking about).
And the bars ... Wander into any
bar (I recommend, after my latest visit home: Cosmo's, Singlewide, Old Crow if
Germaine is working, and Lakewood Landing) and you will see just how
appropriate this song is. A true lyrical
genius, a poet, and probably never saw the confines of New York, bless her
heart.
The Flatlanders offer an unusual
view of the city -- "from a DC-9 at night," but their metaphors for
the city are priceless and spot-on. The
Perfectly Average armed without imagination love to portray New York as
cutthroat and ruthless, but I double-dog dare them to step into Dallas with
their big talk and attend school.
Further proof that pride exists in
some. Believe it or not, there are
baseball players out there who would turn down pinstripes if the Yankees threw
their weight (i.e.Cliff Lee), and there are artists out there who don't need no
nonsense. We'd all be in a world of pain
had Jim Heath cashed in his chips and headed North, but he stayed true to his
roots and, to this day, can be seen frequenting Lakewood restaurants for an
early dinner when he's not touring the South with his psychobilly trio. One of the greatest draws when we came home
from college during Christmas holidays was heading up to Trees to catch his
annual shows, an awesome holiday tradition!
Rumor has it, the band travels incognito through East Dallas dives as a
low-key swing band, adding to their mystique of cool. And despite more than four decades in the
biz, they rock just as hard as they did when they were kids! I nominate the Reverend as the heir apparent to
Willie's throne...
Speak of the devil. "Who Do I Know in Dallas" is the
perfect booty-call song for a man on the road, showing Willie as one of the
original collectors of "hos with different area codes." However, there are no videos online of the
song, so I included instead "Dallas," which despite a bit of
pandering, gives a shout-out to some of the lesser-known neighborhoods around
town that "swing like a blonde with a millionaire."
The velvet-throated Lightnin
Hopkins describes a city once known for racing and gambling and, to a man from
East Central Texas country towns, represent a mecca of activity and
promise. Much like the Perfectly Average
view New York City now, folks from the cotton fields and farms near what is now
Crockett viewed Dallas as a hotbed of sin and opportunity. While racing is less prevalent these days in
Dallas, like most blues songs, seeing one's pony run could stand as a euphemism
for nearly anything and, in Dallas, could probably even happen.
Many folks have recorded this song
- from Jerry Lee Lewis to Andy Hall to the Biscuit Rollers, to name a few. The streets of Main, Commerce and Elm in
Dallas traditionally were an industrial area which housed blacks to work
factories and offered segregated living.
Famed for its black nightlife, folks came from far and wide to record
music, making Dallas a Nashville for the blues.
The list of who recorded in Deep Ellum is littered with Who's Who of
influential music. Robert Johnson
recorded most of his 41 songs there.
Bessie Smith, Lightnin Hopkins... when Lead Belly toured Texas, he met a
fella named Blind Lemon Jefferson and they regularly stopped at the clubs in
Deep Ellum as they toured Texas together.
(Anyone remember the logo of the now-defunct club named after Jefferson?
Coolest image ever.) Through the 80s and
90s, the neighborhood became the center of the punk and new-wave movement, and
it wasn't uncommon to see a society woman posing for vacation pictures with a
skinhead. Today, it's a vibrant
neighborhood filled with restaurants, bars, and shops that cultivates artists
and free-thinkers, as well as the best hamburger in America at The Angry Dog.
Much better than any hamburger you
will find in THE CITY!!!
WHAT DID I LEAVE OUT??? PLEASE LEAVE YOUR COMMENTS BELOW!
Eryk, I moved to NY as an adult and lived there for 20 years, anchored by obligations and real estate. I never unpacked my bags. New Yorkers (native and from away) are described as "resilient". That is a nice way of saying "resigned". They are resigned to paying $4000 a month for a studio apartment, and they elect for a third term a mayor who treats their city as his private Skinner box. Compared to this, what is the problem with a week's disruption of their subways?
ReplyDeleteMaybe next you can write about Californians and their sense of exceptionalism.