Sódóma Reykjavík

Well!

I've finally gotten around to watch an Icelandic film that my old blog-pal Darien recommended 18 years ago! Sódóma Reykjavík/Remote Control is a weird, shaggy-dog story of a garage mechanic who gets involved with bootlegging, mobsters and other misfits in his search for his mother’s missing TV remote control. It was set in early 1990s Reykjavík and surrounding suburbs. I found it on YouTube in a murky print that was probably taken from a VHS tape. Sort of a predecessor to The Big Lebowski, but not nearly so polished (or funny.) The Sódóma referred to in the title was a fictional night club which, years later, became a real one—using the same logo! There are scenes set in the club with an actual Icelandic punk-rock group (Ham) playing. It was once actually voted best Icelandic film of all time! 

After ninety minutes of non-stop action the film careens to halt, the bad guys are vanquished and the missing remote is finally replaced.

Þetta er allt að koma!

Dondi and the Waitress

20 Years Ago on FITK

When I arrived home from work yesterday I was greeted but not by The Weaver, rather, by her friend Dondi.

“Welcome home, Honey!”

Dondi is fearless in word and deed. “What's for dinner, dear?” was my response. The Weaver then came into the kitchen and stopped THAT little mini-drama. We all talked for a quite a while, catching up on Dondi's views of life and the world. The Weaver suggested we go out for a drink and a light repast. Dondi was game, and off we went to the neighborhood patio bar on an absolutely gorgeous evening.

The patio was almost empty; a young waitress came a took our drink orders. When she returned with the wine, she obviously was having a little difficulty with the corkscrew. “How long have you been a server?” piped Dondi. “Only about a month...This corkscrew is harder to do than I thought.” Dondi talked with the young woman, making her feel at ease. The waitress took our food order and left.

Dondi told us a story about her favorite waitress, who worked at a roadhouse near Dondi's rural home. “We have gone there for many years, she is someone who hasn’t had the easiest life, but we always enjoyed her and tipped her well. Sometimes she would talk about the treatment she had received from some of the other ‘regulars’, our neighbors, and I was shocked.” Dondi told us of her waitressing career (one night) and we talked about the elitism that people feel they need to express whenever they are in certain social situations.

After our meal, we ordered port with our desserts, and Dondi graciously explained the types of port and what we were looking for to our neophyte server. The young woman seemed genuinely pleased that customers would express an encouraging interest in her. As she left Dondi cheerfully said: “Why don't you tell your boss you need to take a few bottles of wine home to practice your opening technique on?” “I'm not 21 yet!” was her reply. We all laughed.

It is a curious thing, how uncivil people can be in commercial situations. There ought to be an eleventh commandment:

Thou shalt not hassle anybody doing honest labor no matter what their social position is compared to yours.

That would make the world a better place.

Dondi said…
Dear Professor Batty, I think I might have written that Professor Batty, The Weaver, and Dondidoo were all “happy.” Now say "happy" 3 times in a row and quickly... don’t you think happy is an odd word... and really, Professor, what does happy mean?

Image: AI Image Generator

Reposted

Sound 80 and Me

Sound 80 was the preeminent recording studio in Minnesota in the 1970s and early 1980s.

Numerous acts recorded there, Bob Dylan and Prince the most notable. I had visited there in 1979 with a demo tape of the Explodo Boys that their A & R man, Steve Barnett, passed on. Undaunted, I continued doing sound for local bands and, a few years, later I had put together an LP that needed to be mastered.

So it was back to Sound 80. They had a new computerized mastering lathe, a scarce and essential item in the conversion of tapes to vinyl. Arrangements were made, and I dutifully showed up at the studios and was escorted into the “lathe room”—a below-grade dungeon where I was greeted by Bob Berglund, an experienced engineer, and we went to work. After we got a few initial problems ironed out, we mastered the LP in a two hour session and I went on my way.  The LP sold out and is now a collector’s item. One track from it has received over 30,000 plays on YouTube.

Little did I know then that what I thought was a thriving business was, in reality, on the brink of collapse. Herb Pilhofer, the studio’s owner, was going through a messy divorce at the same time as the economics of a large studio were changing. Sound 80 was soon shuttered, and the building was put on the market. At that time, I was working across the street at a for-profit ‘school’ of communications that needed a new campus. The school’s owner and I toured the premises with a realtor but it wasn’t a good fit. A few days later I went back to Sound 80 for one final time and bought a few items from their ‘garage sale.’ 

An AV company then occupied the building for a time and, after they left, Prince (who by that time was a big star) made an offer on the building but was turned down. It then sat empty for several years until it was purchased (at a bargain price) by its current owner, Steve Orfield. Orfield Labs is an acoustic research facility and home of an anechoic chamber that is billed as “the quietest place on earth”.

Sound 80 still exists, doing commercials and related work, in a downtown Minneapolis office building.

Images: Orfield Laboratories, Inc.

Garden Party

I’m finding that my “toy” camera is surprising me with its striking images:

And, with a little manipulation, some of these image files become quite impressionistic:

summer like a drug

20 years ago on FITK



blood in pink flesh
matches the air temp
with forehead glistening
melting into the air
summer like a drug
summer like a drug

girl in pink bikini
wanders in grasses
with her pubescent lover
melting into the air
summer like a drug
summer like a drug

dog in grey coat dances
on the prairie running
with unfettered abandon
melting into the air
summer like a drug
summer like a drug

cat in green bower
slumbers fitfully
dreaming of kitten frolics
melting into the air
summer like a drug
summer like a drug

More Coffee? Yes, Please…

Kaffismidja (Reykjavik Roasters), 2012

A pair of coffee roasters in Flippist purple.

Just the thing for getting a jump-start on my day.

Too busy to blog.

Summer is short.



UPDATE: Since I posted this 12 years ago I've pretty much given up coffee: too much acid, too many nerves. I’ll drink some when I have to drive a long distance, or when I have to get an early start on chores. It was easier to give up than I thought it would be, and I’m saving about $600 a year by doing without.

The video was based on a late-night encounter I had while on a road trip with my old band in 1979.

Summer Reads

Weather
A novel by Jenny Offill

Orbital
A novel by Samantha Harvey

Liarmouth
A novel by John Waters

when i sing, mountains dance
A novel by Irene Solá

Presenting a quartet of distinctively different short novels for your summertime reading enjoyment and edification:

Weather is a pastiche of short episodes concerning Lizzie (a librarian), Silvia (her mentor and podcaster) and Lizzie's husband, her brother and her son. Climate change drives most of these vignettes as Lizzie grapples with anxiety and the changing world. Clever and profound, it is a great ‘idea’ book.

Orbital deals with six astronauts aboard the International Space Station as they deal with the incredible exhilaration and isolation of orbiting Earth multiple times per day. Thoughtful and provocative, well-paced and worthy of its awards.

Liarmouth is sub-titled “A feel-bad romance” and was written by the notorious film maker and is a complete 180° turn from the lofty aspirations of the previous two entries. You definitely need an appreciation for Waters’ style and a tolerance of perverse sexual practices—‘rimming’ is a recurring motif. Marsha Sprinkle is a compulsive thief and liar with anal retention and sex avoidance issues. The story line careens from one outlandish set-piece to another until it comes to a halt with a happy(?) ending. Waters is a humorist but depending on your tolerance of shocking behavior this twisted tome may or may not induce a chuckle but either way you won’t be bored. You have been warned.

when i sing, mountains dance is a work of literary fiction, written in Catalan and set in the Pyrennes. When the book’s preface is a beautiful quote from Halldór Laxness’ Independent People, you can count on it expanding your reading horizons. Fable-like, with alternating viewpoints from a variety of sources—some of which are not human! It never lets up on its torrent of impressions of life on earth, Even the mountains speak. There is a sub-theme concerning fallout from the Spanish Civil War. Its 198 pages are full of ruminations and revelations. Highest recommendation.

The Interlopers

20 years ago on FITK

Lanesboro, Minnesota, is a small town in Southern Minnesota that was on the verge of extinction in the 1970's. A group of citizens conceived of the idea of making it a 'destination' spot, converting an unused trail line into a bike/hike/ski trail, refurbishing a small theater for live performances, and converting several stately Victorian mansions into BBs. It succeeded, far beyond anyone's expectations. The Weaver and I arrived early, the town was just stirring, so we ate and then took a stroll throughout the tree-lined avenues. We happened upon a slightly faded 'painted lady', as these majestic homes are sometimes called. The sign said "Vacancy", so we went up to the front door. The door bell was posted "out of order" so we took a chance and tried the door. It opened, and in the foyer was another set of doors with the sign "Open" hung upon the knob. We entered...

"Hello! Is anybody home?" The house was silent. I strolled about a bit, carved golden oak woodwork, stained glass windows and vintage french posters lined the great room and the dining room. I peeked into the kitchen- a full commercial kitchen- obviously designed for banquets or other large gatherings. It was obvious that nobody was home. There was a number to call in a flyer by the door, the cell didn't work so I took it back to the commercial district, found a phone booth, and called. Someone mumbled: "MMmmbbttg B&B". I explained that we had seen the place and wondered if there was a room available tonight. "Sure! we've got one room with a queen sized bed." I said that we'd take it. I asked what we should do to reserve it. "Oh just come in, I'll be there to help you."

Now many of these B&B's are part-time operations, with the owner working nearby during the day. I thought she would stop over and we'd meet her there. We went back. Nobody there. Well, maybe she'd been distracted. We waited a few minutes, read some art books and left a note, with our baggage. We were there to bike, after all, and the day was wasting. We rode for miles, ate lunch, and rode some more. Very pleasant and civilized. Visited the local museum, and toured some beautiful gardens. Then we went back to the B&B.

We walked in, classical music was playing on the stereo, and we were ready to wash up and plan our evening. Nobody was there. We went upstairs, perhaps we could figure out which bedroom was ours. No such luck. We decided to wait, at this time we really could use a rest, so we both napped on the antique furniture. An hour later we both awoke, refreshed. Still nobody there. I snooped around a bit, found a telephone in the kitchen. I called the number again, and explained the situation. "Oh no!" The operator said. "This is the MMmmbbttg B&B - we only answer phones for that B&B. There isn't any room available..."

Well, we then went and had a delightful dinner outdoors at a local restaurant, and drove home. We got to stay in a nice B&B for free, if only for a little while. I wonder if anyone ever did show up?

#61

X marks the spot.

I’ve made up my mind and have scheduled yet another Iceland trip, my tenth.

The Weaver just returned from a cruise with her sister that started in Reykjavík and they had a blast there, so I had to order tickets for a trip there from October 30th to November 9th. I’ll be lodging at #61 Castle House, shown under the x in the center of the map. I’ve stayed in that exact apartment before, in 2009, 2012, and 2015; it will be like going home. Will this be my farewell tour? Ten days of theatre, music, swimming, and photography—my last hurrah before a world-wide depression (or World War III) hits?

I’ll keep you posted.

Friday Faux Film Folly

My most recent photographic purchase was a Chuzhao, a tiny digital camera built to mimic a 1930s era Rolleiflex twin lens reflex roll film camera.

At $33 it is basically a toy but with an adapter and a set of 17mm iPhone filters it becomes a system of sorts, with a polarizer and gradient filters plus star, wide angle, fisheye, macro, and prism lenses. The viewing hood on top unfolds to give a proper image (non-reversed) and it has auto-exposure and stores date and time in the metadata as well. It is switchable between color and monchrome (sort of a washed-out sepia) and it even does movies!

What is really hilarious is Amazon’s ‘pairing’ of it with some actual roll film (which wouldn’t be usable with it) — and for about the same price!

I’ve taken some pics with the Chuzhao; the tiny sensor imparts a certain impressionistic quality: