I painfully watched the “60 Minutes” interview with Secretary Hank Paulson last night.

I was frustrated at the interviewer Scott Pelley’s inability to ask the really important questions. Instead, all we got were easy softballs that facilitated the requisite platitudes and generalities of your average Bush-appointed hack (see Brown, Michael and Gonzales, Alberto).

What we should have heard from Pelley:

1. “Why did the original proposal include ZERO oversight mechanisms?”

2. “The US is a Republic, founded on the idea that citizens entrust their elected officials to legislate on their behalf. Why did the original proposal bypass the people’s houses, allowing the Secretary full control of the proceedings?”

These, pun intended, are the money questions. In all seriousness, does Paulson truly believe that he should have the ultimate authority? Can he at least admit this?

3. “How does handing over $700 billion to Wall Street help the economy any more than, say, handing over $700 billion to homeowners, or spending $700 billion on a full employment program?”

This is straight from David Sirota. He may be controversial in the blogosphere, but his advocacy of a populist economic agenda is a wonderful contrast to the DC/Wall Street Establishment that acts like working-class Americans are merely fodder for their profit-making enterprises.

Hell, I’d even say it outweighs any of his occasional self-promoting. Perhaps even justifies it.

4. “If either way we are ‘rewarding irresponsibility’, why not go for a more efficient route: Toxic mortgage-backed securities are largely behind the economic troubles, so why shouldn’t we offer low-interest loans to the defaulting homeowners and bypass the middleman entirely?”

We could require that the loans only be used towards their mortgages. We should also include assistance for those of us who were not recipients of the bad luck that often leads to financial difficulty and foreclosure.

Also, the bill should offer some goodies for those of us who were responsible enough to predict that seeking a $350,000 mortgage on $2500 a month in earnings is worthy of some Bad Idea Jeans.

5. “Would you support Senator Bernie Sanders proposal for a temporary tax on millionaires to finance part of this bailout? Why or why not?”

Sanders serves as a great Progressive Soundcheck – as much (if not more) than any member of Congress within the last 30 years, if he supports an idea, it is definitely worth a legitimate examination.

6. “why not eliminate the $100,000 cap on federal deposit insurance and go take inventory?”

This emanates from economist James Galbraith, who is not related to medical marijuana advocate (and ultimate bad-ass) Gatewood Galbraith, but is the son of you know who. Among the alternative policy ideas, this is the most pro-wealth. However, it provides a necessary psychological lift without a massive financial outlay.

7. According to the legislation:

“The Financial Stability Oversight Board …will include the Federal Reserve chairman, the Securities and Exchange Commission chairman, the Federal Home Finance Agency director, the Housing and Urban Development secretary and the Treasury secretary. Aren’t these the same individuals that allowed the problem to occur in the first place? Why should we trust them to fix the problem they created?”

This question reminds me of a moronic variant of “3-card Monte”. It’s the equivalent of offering someone a Twenty-dollar bill for their lawnmower, than countering their rejection by offering them two crisp 10-dollar bills.

How f*cking stupid do they think we are?

8. “Why not institute economist James Galbraith’s plan, which aims to shore up and expand the FDIC, create a Home Owners Loan Corporation, resurrect Nixon’s federal revenue sharing, and taxstock transactions (a tax that would fall mostly on speculators) to finance the whole deal?”

Back to Galbraith again. I need to learn more about how such a proposal would work. However, it sure merits more discussion than the Boehner thrown at us by Pelosi and Paulson.

9. “Can you explain the process behind the selection of the 700 billion figure?”

The fact that we even have to ASK this question is almost as pathetic as the losers who walked away with multi-million dollar severances. Speaking of said douche-nozzles:

10. “The current bill has language restricting future ‘Golden Parachute’ severance packages, but allows those that are currently in place. Why should we reward these failures with our tax dollars when people are losing their homes?”

See response to #9. But with much more violent anger. Seriously, I want to see some CEOs in prison for what they did to us (especially the a-holes that financed politicians that opposed humane prison reform).

And…most importantly, a bonus…

11. “Can you, Secretary Paulson, promise that you will never accept employment with a company that receives funds from this bailout? And will you promise that you will sell all stock in your possession in
companies that will benefit from this bailout?”

We need to make sure that he does not, as Rep James McDermott eloquently stated, “throw a pass to himself”.

Imagine how made you’ll be when you open the January 21, 2009 issue of the Wall Street Journal, and see his smiling mug standing next to one of the bailed-out brickfaces, with the headline “Paulson accepts 50 MM offer to lead Washington Mutual”, or some other crooked bunch of losers.

That will definitely kill your buzz at Obama’s inauguration.

Congrats Todd! Here’s wishing you and Christine all the best!

I cannot conceive of a situation where the gender that composes 52% of the electorate will walk into the voting booth, see the name “Kathleen Sebelius” in big letters under the word “Vice President”, and think – “You know – that should be Hillary, so I will cast my vote with the anti-woman warmonger!”

The numbers don’t lie. Here’s a break down from my good friend Todd:

Obama-Sebelius 2008

Here are 10 fine examples of what rock n’ pop can be. 2008, settin’ it straight…

(to listen to these songs, go here – www.tonymendocino.muxtape.com)

1. Darling – Sons and Daughters

In March, when Scotland’s most un-Glaswegian band dropped Gilt Complex on our shores, the snow on my roof finally began melting. To best describe the furious “Darling”, I have to channel my Inner John Storts: “This song sounds like Band 1 recording a song by Band 2, in the style of Band 3.”[1]

“Darling” sounds like Lisa Lisa/Cult Jam with Full Force – my favorite mid-’80s pop group – covering “Mother’s Little Helper”, if half the band was dreaming about The Jam rewriting Miami Sound Machine’s “Bad Boys” in the style of “A Town Called Malice”.

Yeah, I know – the genre and era-jumping is (almost) overwhelmed by levels of cheese not seen outside of an Eau Claire truck stop.

2. The Futureheads – Think Tonight

After several listens to News and Tributes, I finally figured out the Futureheads. They truly are at their best only after understanding that their sound is the perfect blend of Television and Rick Springfield. Hell, this song’s name sounds like it could be a Springfield tune (although there are no lyrics about having a “love monkey riding on her back”). In 1992, some Louisville punk label released a 7-inch called Written in Rock, where some Slints-in-training all submitted their take on some Rick classics, like “Jessie’s Girl” and “Love is Alright Tonite”, and I have to say, those tunes have crazy staying power. This clever recipe perfected by the Futureheads leads to an easy ride for the producer. Whenever the songs lean a little too close to “Marquee Moon” and not enough towards “Human Touch”, time to wake the (working-class) dog to scare the shite outta them.

A sad addendum – by 1985, Rick had ditched his great power-pop sound for a MOR commercial whine (“Two Souls”), almost accidentally inventing Emo – had The Outfield not got there first.

3. The Ting-Tings – “That’s Not My Name”

Did Bow Wow Wow and Toni Basil have a Budweiser Baby? I can’t answer that, but if I know anything, it’s that those kids were doin’ more than just drinking. Walter Sobchak once spoke of drawing a line in the sand. With the Ting-Tings, I’ve decided to cross that line. In Minneapolis, we are blessed with what functions as an Indie-Rock Top 40 station – The Current (KCMP 89.3) – and by August, this will find its way on its list of summer driving songs. I love the subtle use of sound effects – perhaps the UK school system has finally placed “Owner of a Lonely Heart” in their Scared Straight curriculum for musicians.

4. Old 97s – “Dance with Me”

Dallas‘ finest foursome just released Blame it on Gravity, which will likely be embraced by all y’all 97s fans. Makes me remember the February 2000 show where a friend of ours[2] planted a Skoal Bandit in his pie-hole and ran right across the stage, causing Rhett to jump back like Ken Griffey Junior avoiding a high-and-tight fastball.

Oh yeah, the song – it’s a 2-minute slice of loud guitars, Mexicali rhythms, and Murry Hammond harmonies. And a bad-ass Ken Bethea solo. Ole!

5. Nada Surf – “The Fox”

With the Waxwings out of commission, and their chief songwriter playing the Pau Gasol/Ray Allen role for Queens of the Stone Age, New York’s Nada Surf have a solid case to claim the Brian Wilson mantle. This a little darker for a pop song, but the delayed guitar, damn if it does not channel Radiohead’s Ed O’Brien, and those harmonies – man, I regret not giving these guys much of a shot before my fiancée brought The Weight is a Gift on our last road trip. All that’s missing is the Ondes Martenot.

6. Chikita Violenta – “Lay Down”

Lou Dobbs better watch out! Emerging from the traffic-n’-pollution wonderland of Mexico City, somehow they hooked up with David Newfield, noted producer for Wales’ resident psychedelic heroes, the Super Furry Animals. Stars and Suns Sessions was recorded at the Toronto studio of the same name, with help from Broken Social Scene. Wow, that’s a lot of foreigners.

The percussion-heavy Cure-esque tune plays the “bury the vocals” game, but then the triumphant chorus takes over, aided moreso by my nightly busrides meandering through neighborhoods loaded with signs advertising Abogados and Panaderias. I can almost hear the Minutemen crying to their mommas.

7. The Redwalls – “Put Us Down”

The best song that the Everly Brothers never wrote. I always pegged our Kentucky kin as proto-British invasion (just check Allison Krauss and Robert Plant’s version of “Gone Gone Gone”), and here’s the results from that logical evolution. I owe Sound Opinions some thanks for this – I would have never heard about them, if not for Jim DeRogatis and Greg Kot. Now if we can only get angry alt-bipolar songwriters to stop leaving angry messages on Jim’s voicemail.

8. Yeasayer – “Sunrise”

You’d have to be psycho to think that a modern band could transform early-’80s VH1 staples into something remotely listenable. Yet, here’s a band from the Tigris and Euphrates of hipsters – Williamsburg, New York – openly aping Phil Collins and Huey Lewis (which also occurs on the second verse of another Yeasayer track called “2080″). Perhaps the band members are all secretly fascinated by Patrick Bateman – although their live show featured nary a visible chainsaw (“…I can’t believe that Price prefers McDermott’s card to mine!“).

“Sunrise” begins with semi-cheesy Rainforest Café percussion “that fucking Ian guy” would request from his patchouli dealer, and within seconds, you find yourself nodding along to “In the Air Tonight – 2008″. That open-E-minor chord where you fret the “A” on the 10^th, and the “D” on the 9^th, hell. It never sounded so good. And just when you thought they were all out of tributes to early-80s semi-heroes, they end the song with an homage to Christopher Cross. Ride like the wind!

9. Neon Neon – “Dream Girls”

Speaking of 80s homage, we really need to find the master reels to the Corey Twins’ piece-de resistance, License to Drive, and overdub this song during the “Archie’s nightclub” scene. I’ve been a fan of Gruff Rhys and his Welshmen for a while, but I had no idea that mushrooms could be so easily replaced with cocaine.

Addendum – the coke was not John DeLorean’s. It sucks that Big Business screwed the little guy once again, but at least we already have the compelling soundtrack for a movie that is begging to be made.

10. ZibraZibra – “Lions on the Astroturf”

Twin Cities has a pogo’d-up twisted scene calling itself “electro-punk”, which has imperialized the minds of the youngsters like a modern-day Gleemonex. Mind the calendar of your late-night bar selection, ’cause these kids pack only an iPod and a microphone, rendering you and yours a scant minute away from watching your quiet conversation get tossed into the dustbin of ear-splitting history.

At only one time was the opportunity to finish a well-paced Oswalt-esque story worth losing. When this foursome of fools started running around, tossing flyers and the occasional USB drive into the still-seated crowd, I was ready to punch the ringleader, who sported a jumpsuit that even The Hub’s Johnny Price wouldn’t dare pull out of the basement. But damn, it’s almost as if these guys listened to “Dream Girls”, and made a list of everything that song forgot to reference. It’s about time “Sha mon” saw a post-Jacksonian spotlight.

11. Nicole Atkins & the Sea – “The Party’s Over”

In The Worst Rock n’ Roll Records of All Time: A Fan’s Guide to the Stuff You Love to Hate, Jimmy Guterman and Owen O’Donnell eviscerate U2′s The Unforgettable Fire, inferring that the album’s lack of focus made the Sinn Fein’s carbombs look precise. “All I Want is You”, a track left off the record, not to be revived until Rattle and Hum, always confounded me, because it appears that Bono & Co packed up their gear and left the studio without telling the orchestra. After about 5 full minutes of confused looks on their faces, the string section eventually got the word that Eno and Lanois killed the lights. One listen to “The Party’s Over” will make you wonder if Ms. Atkins snuck into the studio to take advantage of the free orchestration (In addition, how would Archer Prewitt respond if this band opened for Sacramento’s “nudge nudge, wink wink”-rockers Cake?)

12. The Raveonettes – “Blitzed”

Listening to Denmark’s finest act since Funky Nashville makes me think I need a milkshake and a ’58 Chevy. Ah, nothing like longing for a romanticized version of a rather drab and unjust era of American history (or as James “LCD Soundsystem” Murphy would call “Borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered ’50s”).

The Raveonettes’ new album dives further into the Jesus and Mary Chain, swimming to Spectorian surfaces for air. 2008′s Lust Lust Lust is a return to the noise of Chain Gang of Love, although I’d love to see them feature both of their styles on the same record. Each of their four albums have songs that I’d place in a canon of bad-ass tunes, but like the kid who sneaks behind the counter at an old-school ice cream shop, one should never indulge in the entire contents within one sitting. Perhaps the Raveonettes should become the first band to release their records as one-song bonus tracks within albums by other artists.

Trevor Horn is everywhere. He produces your favorite English acts, he designs your synthesizer, he keeps your career intact despite shifting musical trends, and he kills your radio stars. His name was so ubiquitous in the liner notes of English music that it would be no surprise to learn that Limeys likely checked their cereal boxes to make sure he wasn’t an ingredient in there, too.Before making it big with The Buggles, he created the Fairlight synthesizer, which revolutionized the technique of sampling. Somewhere, a young Sean Combs was taking notes. He created the sound for ABC and countless “New Pop” acts, and hoisted the notorious joke upon an unaware America by creating “Frankie Goes To Hollywood, and their hit “Relax”. Don’t forget T.a.t.U. – perhaps the best argument for a re-Sovietization of Russia (Watch it – I already have “Dancing with the Czars” copyrighted).

As 1979 came to a close, Horn and co-”Radio Star”-killer Geoff Downes were rehearsing in the same studio as prog-rockers Yes. Late ’70s Britain was not hospitable to their sound anymore, with punk grabbing the imagination of the old Isle. By coincidence, Rick Wakeman and Jon Anderson had just left the band, taking their stacks of Moog synths and lyrics about hearts and sunrises with them. After crossing paths between rehearsals, Horn was recruited to serve as the substitute lead singer for Yes, and Downes was brought in to play keyboards. This “trade” completely changed the personality of the band, especially with the more dance-and-punk-oriented Horn at the front. In 1980, this new lineup recorded the perfectly-named Drama. Horn was not a good singer, but his skills with recording allowed his shortcomings to be overcome with gadgetry, and Downes was no slouch, either. Any true Yes fan must have shit their pants when they first heard the twisted punk-reggae-disco of “Tempus Fugit”. Lyrics such as “die like a dead beaten speed-freak” only twisted the knife. While it was far from The Jam or The Fall, Drama was a serious ass-kicking statement of relevance for a genre that was becoming a caricature of itself. If one was ever so geeky that they chose to compare Yes to Canadian counterparts Rush, it would be quite appropriate to call Drama the Grace Under Pressure of their catalogue. Both records feature a sardonicism that was quite new to each band, and this new attitude was, unfortunately, quickly abandoned within their subsequent releases.

While the music was quite good, rock stardom was not for Horn, and he absconded to the drink-in-one-hand, knob-in-the-other life of a producer. Downes and guitarist Steve Howe were recruited by John Wetton to join Steve Carell’s favorite supergroup, Asia. Only time will tell if their decision was well thought out, or merely made in the heat of the moment. (Sorry.) Did that mean the end of Yes? No.

After several rehearsals with some dude named Jimmy Page, last-men-standing Chris Squire on bass and drummer Alan White decided that following Bonzo and JPJ may not be the best career move. (Quick – name the drummer for Wings). Back when a young Vincent Gallo was obsessing over his every move, Squire recorded a solo track called “Brown Bunny”, which sold only one copy. Actually it was called “Run with the Fox”, but as Tony Wilson once said, when there is doubt between the truth and the legend, print the legend. By the end of 1981, Squire was introduced to South African guitarist Trevor Rabin, who topped the charts in his native country with the band Rabbitt (I promise this is not another Gallo joke). Rabin hopped out of his apartheid-laden warren for jolly-ol’ England, joining Squire and White to form Cinema. Soon, Jon Anderson was alerted at this trio’s new sound, and like David Putty receiving a call from Elaine, The “bump into” always leads to the backslide. Jon and old pal Tony Kaye were back – all they needed was a producer. Re-enter Trevor Horn.

Horn’s return to the fold as producer gave him a big stage to display all his new recording wizardry. Trevor Rabin brought him the perfect song for the time – “Owner of a Lonely Heart”. How would Horn treat this opportunity? If you guessed “He’d make the song sound like a pinball machine”, unfortunately you would be right.

There is a recent trend in journalism to refer to anything excessive as “___-porn”. Producer/schlockmeister Jerry Bruckheimer is guilty of making “Debris-porn”. You could cite Saving Private Ryan or Platoon as examples of “War-porn”. I’d even go as far and say that most episodes of “Oprah” could be categorized as “Empathy-porn”. (Vivid Video? Totally “Pornography-porn”.) Trevor Horn decided to add his own entry to the list – “Sound-Effects-porn”.

“Owner of a Lonely Heart” begins with a flanged drum sample, and Chris Squire’s signature bass slide. Then the guitar kicks in, giving one the idea that, hey, this sounds like a prototypical early-80s rock song – somewhat forward-looking, but prototypical. And then, 20 seconds in, it all goes to pot. First the crazy high-pitched stabs that sound like a tire-less El Camino screeching to a stop. Then the “where the hell did that come from?” guitar flourish, shorter than the sound-bite allowed to a liberal on Fox News. Then that screech again, like a wasp that won’t leave the car (Fu-uck!). After about 2 minutes of the main riff being repeated often enough you mistake the song for an automated train schedule, it just gets plain weird. A breakdown-style bridge, featuring multiple stabs, is imitated by Jon. No, this isn’t another “cha cha cha” like “Sound Chaser” – he’s more into imitating a saxophone here. Then Rabin gives us THAT solo – each note harmonized in 4ths. “Don’t deceive your freewill at all?” WTF? Exactly.

“What about the video?”, you ask.

Um, yeah. Let’s just say it gets a bit weird.

Don’t forget about drummer Alan White, with his patented “bite-lip, stick lips out, bob head” maneuver, like Mick Jagger doing “The Rooster” while seated on a circular chair. And when did the art directors for “Square Pegs” gain control over a band’s attire (or maybe they were sending in an early audition tape for Punky Brewster”)? If I ever dressed like that, I’d have to beat my own ass.In 1983, MTV had a program called “Friday Night Video Fights”, which pit 2 song clips against one another. All MTV’s viewers – yes, they were mostly 8-year-olds whose entire social life revolved around “Knight Rider”, “Airwolf” and neighborhood games of Hide-N-Seek – were asked to make a 69-cent call to MTV (kids, get your parents permission!) to choose their winner. When Journey released “Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)” – oh, the days of parenthetical song titles – viewers gave that fire-pantomiming, warehouse-abandoning anthem enough love to keep it in the victor’s chair for six straight weeks. Then came Yes, teaching us that fist-pumping indoors beats fist-pumping outdoors, every damn time.