Another assignment for the holiday weekend, from Don’t Call It Art: “Get offline as much as possible. There’s so much input to be found in the real world outside of the internet. Go old school. Listen to radio shows. Browse the recently returned stacks at your local library. Buy weird old books at thrift shops. Visit a museum you’ve never been to. Find a good record store and chat up the clerks. Interact with real people in meatspace.”
That’s great homework (or rather outside-the-home work) for any weekend, not just holiday weekends.
Your smart phone is making you dumber. The apps are engineered to hook you in and drag you deeper down the well (or cesspool).
Get out. Tune in to what the real world has to offer. Rewire your brain. Find something different, something funky, something fun. And then, as Austin so eloquently puts it “interact with real people in meatspace.”
For the uninitiated:
Make the meatspace a meet space too. Do “social” instead of social media. Your life will feel so much richer for it.
The pixels and data centers and ones and zeros will get along just fine without you. And vice-versa.
If you’re in the Cincinnati area, here’s a reco for your assignment. On Tuesday I went to the inaugural “Lunch Club” at the Mercantile Library downtown.
I had no idea it was the first gathering until I got there and the host mentioned it. To be honest, I’m 50/50 on reading the Mercantile Library’s weekly emails (due to time constraints, not due to disinterest). But I happened to read the one promoting this event and signed up, despite my loner tendencies. That was mostly thanks to Austin Kleon’s encouragement. I met four fine folks, we had lively conversations, and I headed back to work energized.
That’s some pretty good meatspace activity, especially for a vegetarian.
Many moons ago, Nora Guthrie, the daughter of legendary folk singer Woody Guthrie, found a shoebox full of her dad’s lyrics. British punk-folk musician Billy Bragg and the alt-country/Americana band Wilco agreed to put them to music, and an album called Mermaid Avenue was released in 1998 to much critical acclaim.
A couple of weekends ago, Billy Bragg and Wilco finally performed those songs live for the first time ever. You can check out the concert audio here — but note that it will only be available to stream until Thursday.
But that’s not why we’re here. We’re here for the forgotten genius of that era of the band Wilco. His name was Jay Bennett.
As is often the case with bands, there was an acrimonious split. Wilco founder Jeff Tweedy fired Jay.
Which is a shame, because Jay had so much to do with shaping and expanding Wilco’s sound during that era, as a multi-instrumentalist, and engineer, and producer.
According to friends and former band members (Wilco would not comment for this story), Bennett’s contributions helped transition the group from its ragged folk and country roots to the multidimensional pop that gave them critical and commercial flight. — From this 2009 Chicago Magazine article by Mark Guarino
He was part of three Wilco albums: Being There, Summerteeth, and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. In my humble opinion, that was the best version of the band. And Jay doesn’t get enough credit. Quite to the contrary, he was portrayed as a bit of a villain in the Wilco-authorized movie I Am Trying to Break Your Heart.
It got ugly. Jay eventually sued Jeff for breach of contract. This was in May of 2009. Per Wikipedia: The suit came less than two weeks after Bennett publicly revealed that he needed hip replacement surgery which he could not afford due to his health insurance considering the situation a “pre-existing condition.
And then it just got sad. On May 24, 2009, Bennett died unexpectedly in his sleep… The Champaign County coroner reported about one month later that Bennett’s death was accidental, and was the result of an overdose of the prescription painkillerFentanyl.[12][13] He was wearing a Duragesic patch on his back when his body was found, said Champaign County Coroner Duane Northrup.
Jay needed something for the hip pain. It’s the same way Tom Petty – who did his last tour with a broken hip – died.
28 years after Mermaid Avenue, Jeff Tweedy gave a lovely shout-out to Jay from the stage.
“Jay Bennett was a huge part of all these songs… these songs wouldn’t be here without Jay… He was a big champion of this project… Continue to think about him and continue to remember him, please…”
It’s funny how life paths diverge. Jeff Tweedy has had sustained success for decades with Wilco. Jay Bennett died waiting for a surgery he couldn’t afford. I’m sure both Jeff and Jay wished things had ended differently, if not professionally then at least personally. But I’m glad Jeff paid tribute to Jay at the show. Giving credit where credit was due.
Woody Guthrie’s lyrics were lost for a long time, but finally came to life thanks in a large part to Jay. It’d be a shame if his contribution were lost to the mists of time.
“The great thing about the work that he did is that it’s there for others to hear forever.”
Ken Coomer, Wilco’s former drummer
If you really want to dig deeper, check out this Medium post and the Jay Bennett documentary below.
My wife’s cousin Kelly recently retired from teaching.
(That’s Kelly on the left, when she and Mrs. Dubbatrubba had a Ferris Bueller’s Day Off-style adventure recently.)
She spent 30+ years at Catholic grade schools in the D.C. area.
Over those three-plus decades, thousands of kids crossed paths with her. In the classroom. In the lunchroom. In the hallways. At the school plays, and the sporting events. At Sunday Mass too.
The lessons those kids learned from her didn’t always come from a textbook.
She taught them kindness, by showing up with a smile on her face, even on the tough days.
With her sense of humor, she taught them that learning can be fun.
By being attentive, she let them know they mattered.
By demanding their best effort, she inspired them.
Those lessons don’t stop when the kids move on. They carry them with them, wherever they go, for the rest of their lives.
Kelly’s out of the classroom, but her lessons are still going strong. What an amazing legacy!
I know you’re probably tired of hearing me yammer about some tiny “modern rock” radio station where I worked long, long ago.
Heck, that station has been off the air for 22 years.
It’s so old that it’s now considered “historical.”
Give it a rest already!
But here’s the thing. This past Saturday, the Butler County Historical Society had a 97X “Back to the Future of Rock & Roll” event.
More than one hundred people paid their hard-earned cash to hear more about the station from several folks who worked there: Steve “Bakerman” Baker, Dave Tellmann, Matt Sledge, former student co-producer Jen Dalton (now at Channel 12), and yours truly.
But the Q&A segment at the end was the best part of it, and helps explain why people would cough up cash to attend a history lecture. Because there weren’t that many questions, but there were plenty of testimonials from people in attendance.
“Such a big part of my life.”
“My husband came to Oxford from North Carolina for a job interview, and we moved because he heard 97X.”
“I met my husband at the 97X 10th anniversary concert.”
“The station changed my life.”
“The station saved my life.”
The station’s listenership was tiny. But its impact on those listeners was mighty. The connection was so much stronger than the weak signal. Because we gave listeners what they wanted (music they couldn’t hear anywhere else) and what all of us need (a sense of community).
It meant a lot then. It means even more now that it’s gone.
Here’s a photo of all the 97X alums who were there.
Jen Dalton was an unpaid college intern. The rest of us got a paycheck, but it was below-poverty wages. Yet I wouldn’t trade my time there for a million dollars. Not then, and not now. The people I met during my time there (co-workers and listeners alike) were solid gold.
We loved the music. We had fun playing it. We had free rein creatively – not just live, but also for commercials and promos and contests. And best of all, we knew we were sharing it with people who cared.
Good luck getting anything close to that from cookie cutter corporate radio stations.
It’s why Dave Tellmann and I keep publishing new episodes of our podcast about the station. (Listening links are here.)
I was listening to a different podcast this week where Erykah Badu was quoted as saying you experience two deaths: once when you pass away, and then later when your name is spoken for the last time.
It’s been 16 years and we’re still saying “97X” (with or without the Rainman “BAM!”).
While I was on my “Big Sky Country” trip a couple of weeks ago (see this recent post for more), I simply had to make a pilgrimage to the site of Evel Knievel’s ill-fated Snake River Canyon “Sky Cycle” jump. Or attempted jump, more accurately.
Evel’s name probably doesn’t mean much to this generation, raised on “Dude Perfect” videos. But to men of a certain age — Boomers and Gen X fellas — his name and exploits are etched into our memory banks. He was a daredevil hero to us wee lads. Jumping the fountain at Caesar’s Palace. Jumping cars. Jumping trucks. Jumping buses. Eventually jumping the shark. (Literally – he was supposed to jump 13 sharks in Chicago, but crashed during his practice jump. That wound up being his final stunt attempt.)
He was on ABC’s Wide World of Sports all the time. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat all rolled up into one star-spangled jumpsuit.
You probably can’t read it on the sign in the photo above, but it list “70 stunts and a world record 433 broken bones…” Watch this clip and you’ll understand the latter part of that equation.
He broke a lot of bones, but he sold a ton of toys sold too!
Even Marvel Comics got in on the action.
Evel’s most successful stunt (133 feet) happened just up the road from me, at Kings Island amusement park, in October of ’75.
But his most famous attempt was more than a year earlier, jumping the Snake River Canyon. 1600 feet. And he originally planned to try it in a motorcycle! His engineer, Bob Truax, talked him out of that. Thus the “Sky Cycle” was born. But the parachute deployed early (some suspect Evel pulled it himself), and Evel crashed into the rocks below.
There’s not much left at the launch site now – just the dirt pile and a couple of concrete footers that once held the ramp.
But it was weirdly moving… maybe even semi-spiritual… when I got to see it. Maybe because every kid wants to fly. Every kid likes to test the limits. And Evel showed us the way.
This YouTube comment sums it up for guys like me:
This song is pure 70s soft rock schmaltz, but somehow it works.
He can climb a mountain
Jump across a winding river
Once he’s made his mind up, there’s nothing he won’t try
There’s something deep inside him
Lusting for the thrills that drive him
Yet he knows someday, he’s gonna have to face, that canyon in the sky…
Thomas G Kuhl on Get on the bus!: “I am glad that bus keeps circling………” Sep 8, 03:37
Kevin Sullivan on The full-brain workout: “Yep, keep writing .. in your voice. https://www.nytimes.com/2026/08/04/opinion/artificial-intelligence-ai-writing.html?unlocked_article_code=1.4VA.JFCf.Lr_UK5tlpBRR&smid=url-share” Aug 10, 10:57
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