When we look back, years from now, we will realize it was the nation’s first black president who actually made us less free — by making government the overseer of every aspect of our lives, and by chaining us to a debt burden from which we can never escape.

How’s that for irony?

Typical liberals

With the recent election of Barack Obama, it’s more popular than ever for people to refer to themselves as liberals. In fact, most do
so proudly.

But are they as liberal as they think?

“Yes We Are!” many will assert, echoing Obama’s campaign slogan.

Well maybe you are and maybe you aren’t.

Fortunately, there’s an easy way to tell — and in mere moments it will let you gauge just how liberal or (*shudder*) conservative you may be.

All you have to do is read through the list of positions in commentator Dennis Prager’s thoughtful column, Why I Am Not a Liberal.

If you find yourself completely disagreeing with him, then yes, you are probably extremely liberal.

But if you find yourself agreeing with him (even reluctantly) on half or more of the issues, it may be time for a rethink.

At any rate, it’s fun. Better yet, it’ll get you thinking.

(I’d love to hear comments on this one; please feel free to share.)

1. They sound like the Beatles, Black Sabbath and the Ramones in a three-car pileup.
2. They make being depressed…well, kinda fun.
3. They’re not all artsy like Bauhaus.
4. Your girlfriend will melt when she hears “In Praise of Bacchus” from October Rust. (Try it and see!)
5. Peter Steele’s voice is deep and dark as the grave.
6. You can see vampires at their concerts. (Mostly pretend vampires.)
7. They don’t appear to take themselves seriously. At all. Ever.
8. Sounds like they record in a cathedral.
9. Keyboardist Josh Silver’s hair is…well, you just have to see it.
10. Lyrics like “Her perfume smells like burning leaves” make you think of October year round.
11. They would destroy Coldplay in a bar fight.
12. They have songs that make the hair on your arms stand up. (Mine anyway.)
13. It’s perfectly acceptable to chant “You suck!” as they take the stage.
14. Their song “Black No. 1″ contains musical salutes to both “The Munsters” and “The Addams Family.”
15. Listening to them is a perfect excuse to burn some clove incense.
16. Their music celebrates diversity: Metalheads, goths, punks and hippies can enjoy it together.
17. The first single (“These Three Things”) on their last album (Dead Again) was over 14 minutes long — perfect for radio!
18. Perhaps the only band in America to use the word “Druidess” in a song title or lyric.
19. Catchy, toe-tapping songs about death, loss, grief and addiction.
20. You can sing “Dear Prudence” over the chorus to the title track of World Coming Down and it works.
21. You’ll hear Christmas ornaments breaking and rolling across the floor (from the right speaker to the left) in the song “Christmas Mourning.”
22. Peter Steele rolls his “r’s” when he sings words like “Nosfer-r-r-ratu.”
23. Their cover of “Cinnamon Girl” totally rocks.
24. Who else would title their greatest hits collection “The Least Worst Of.”
25. Their songs are fun to play on the piano. (Now go learn!)

Axis Annie, 1997

Getting ready to see Cradle of Filth tonight made me a little nostalgic for the days when I was in Axis Annie. Here’s one of our better songs: Water, which has a nice semi-acoustic intro before launching into all-out rock and roll.

Oh, and by the way, I realize the band name isn’t the most politically correct in the world, but they were already calling themselves that when I joined, so please don’t call me a Nazi if you choose to comment.

Shuai Bertalan-Wang

Like any parent, I want the best for my kids.

In my daughter’s piano teacher, I’ve found it.

Shuai Bertalan-Wang is a young woman from China pursuing her doctorate at the Cleveland Institute of Music.

And man, can she rock a keyboard. Check this out:

http://pianoshuai.com/?page_id=47

At a recent recital we watched her tear through a Bach Brandenburg concerto (including an insanely difficult solo passage) on the harpsichord. We were utterly mesmerized.

To watch Shuai play makes you wonder: How the heck did she get so good? Her fingers fly, the music flows, and all you can do is sit back in awe — not just at her performance but at her dedication, at the years of study and practice she must have invested to become such a phenomenal talent.

And my kid is the beneficiary! She gets to study every week with an amazing musician who’s doing more than teaching her to play; she’s introducing her to the joy, the fun and the wonder of music.

What an opportunity.

Onstage with Axis Annie

In a former life I was a basement musician, creating my own tunes with a guitar, a keyboard, an old Mac and an 8-track BOSS digital recorder. (I also spent a couple years in a little Cleveland gothic-punk-metal group called Axis Annie.)

Life has since gotten busier, but someday I’ll get back to crafting my dark little ditties. In the meantime, here’s one that friends have told me is the best of my efforts. It’s called Haunted June because it’s kinda spooky and I finished it in June 2004. It takes a few seconds to get rolling, but once it does it’s a pretty good ride. I hope you enjoy it.

That melting pot is looking more like a salad these days: Everything’s in one bowl, but nothing’s blending together. People still come here, but they’re no longer encouraged to embrace American ideals because, well… that would be insensitive.

In fact, our current cultural climate actively discourages immigrants from assimilating into the American mainstream.

For example, look how easy we’re making it for people NOT to learn English.

Bilingual signs in stores are ubiquitous. So is bilingual product packaging. Go to your ATM and you’ll be asked if you prefer English or Spanish. Call a customer service line and the automated voice on the other end will ask you the same question.

Hey, Spanish is a great language. (I took two years of it in high school.) And if I moved to Mexico or Spain, I’d learn it.  I wouldn’t expect those countries to bend over backwards to accommodate my ignorance of their national language.

But that’s exactly what we’re doing here. Armed with the very best intentions, we’re limiting newcomers’ ability to communicate with the majority of people here. By doing so we’re keeping them outside the mainstream, relegating them to permanent outsider status, and essentially making them second class citizens.

That’s not just bad for them, it’s bad for all of us. After all, how can we be a single united people if we can’t even communicate with each other in a common language?

The answer is: We can’t. And if this keeps up, America will eventually be reduced to little balkanized enclaves of special interests for politicians to pander to.

The e pluribus unum (“from many, one”) printed on our currency will give way to
e pluribus pluribus (“from many, many”).

Okay, so maybe you’ve heard the above arguments before.

But the cultural impact is only one downside.

There’s something else that needs to be considered: The cost, especially to businesses.

After all, translating signs, packages and instructions into other languages costs money, and not just a little. There’s the cost of the initial translation. There’s the cost of proofreading those translations. And there’s the cost of re-translating and re-proofreading when the inevitable last-minute revisions occur. Not to mention the additional management time that these extra steps and third-party involvement require.

Then there are the design issues.

Package development is challenging under the best circumstances. Designers have to pack a lot of information into very little space, all while making it readable and appealing to the eye of the consumer. When—by requiring a package to be bilingual—you more than double the amount of words it needs to include, you’ve made the designer’s job exponentially more difficult and the project much more expensive. (And because there’s no way to put 10 gallons of stuff in a 5-gallon bucket and make it look good, you can pretty much kiss a pleasing design and readability goodbye.)

Ultimately, since costs get passed on, the consumer pays the price for this politically correct retail approach—both monetarily and in going blind trying to find the English bits on a package of light bulbs.

Companies may believe they’re being “inclusive” by going bilingual, that they’re “reaching out” to “a diverse array of consumers.” But the unintended consequence is the further division of Americans into isolated groups and a higher cost for making it happen.

At the film’s climactic moment the hero, who has caught on to the aliens’ nefarious plan, is on a highway running frantically into oncoming traffic, desperate to warn an oblivious public of the danger before it’s too late.

A few Saturdays ago I realized I’m in a similar predicament—and it’s almost as scary.

The TV was tuned to PBS and Austin City Limits came on. The featured band: Coldplay.

Since I don’t know much about Coldplay (except that their name is kinda dumb and they’re insanely popular) I thought, “Okay, let’s see what all the excitement is about.”

One excruciating hour later I still had no idea.

The songs were forgettable, the musicianship rudimentary and the stage presence nonexistent. Yet the studio audience sat in rapt attention.

The more I watched, the more astonished I became. How could these guys be so successful? What is there to like, let alone get excited about?

True, I heard fleeting elements of U2, Radiohead and R.E.M. in Coldplay’s songs. But completely lacking were the inspiration, originality and passion that set those groups apart. (Heck, I’d have settled for a single catchy melody or decent singing.)

As the set ended, the audience stood to their feet and clapped, happily cheering the mediocrity they’d paid good money to witness.

That’s when it dawned on me. “Oh my God,” I thought. “This is what passes for good music these days! Crap is replacing art—and no one’s noticed!”

At that moment, I realized I can’t let this go on. I have to do something.

I have to remind people that not long ago the world was occupied by truly talented musicians who understood songwriting,  whose tunes stuck in your head the first time you heard them—and stayed there for decades to come. I have to remind them too that we once had real rock stars: larger than life characters with enough charisma and star power to light up stadiums night after night.

Maybe if I can remind people of what music used to be, they’ll be less accepting of bland imitations like Coldplay, of faceless slackers who slouch onto the stage (looking like they just grabbed something out of the laundry pile) and whine about their melancholy lives in tuneless, feminized self-absorption.

So I’m sounding the alarm.

I didn’t ask for the job; I simply have no choice…

I have to convince the world that Coldplay sucks—even if that means running down the interstate and shouting “Wake up!” into the oncoming traffic.

It’s the only way to be sure my children grow up in a world where mediocre imitations are rejected, and music that pulses with genuine inspiration again rules the planet.

There was, however, major meltdown prior to leaving for the performance. She complained that her brand new Christmas dress was “itchy.” Oh, how the tears did flow. But I told her that all the other girls would be wearing itchy dresses too, so she’d be in good company. She hated me for about a half hour, but eventually got over it, especially when most of the other girls showed up wearing itchy dresses.

By the way, her piano teacher is a young woman from China, and she is a MONSTER on the piano. Holy cow.

Anyway, it’s been a long day. I’m popping in an episode of “Dexter.”