Case in point: When I first moved to Austin, Texas I discovered one of the main streets was named “Manchaca”. Now, growing up one of my friends was named David Menchaca (almost identical spelling) and he pronounced his name the way you would expect- “men-CHA-kah.” So naturally when I moved to Austin, I pronounced the street name the way that 99% of Mexico would—”mahn-CHA-kah.” The first time I did, I got a blank stare.

Again I repeated: “Can you tell me the way to mahn-CHA-kah street?”
Finally: “Ohhh…you mean ‘MAN-shack’!” (Pronounced as if it’s a place out back where the men are kept).

Seriously.

I have no idea where this strange pronunciation came from, but it has taken hold and will not budge. It pained me every time I had to pronounce it that way, but otherwise I wouldn’t be understood (the whole point of communication, right?).

It didn’t change once I moved to California.

Just north of San Francisco is a city named San Rafael. Anyone possessing a meager familiarity with Spanish would know how this should be pronounced: sahn rah-fah-EL. Just like Austin’s Manchaca, I received dumbfounded confusion when I referred to this city by its proper pronunciation. In the fourteen years since then, I’ve come to accept and use the painful, colloquial version, “SAN ruffell.” Yuck.

Maybe foreign words are the bugaboo? What got me thinking about this whole subject was the mention of another local city nearby, Santa Cruz. This one isn’t so much about pronunciation as it is enunciation. To me, logic would dictate that the emphasis be placed on the “Cruz” part (santa CRUZ). The reason for this is to distinguish from all of the other “saints” that have been referenced in naming California locales (San Francisco, Santa Clara, San Jose, San Luis Obispo, etc.).

Instead, the locals put the emphasis on the first word (SANTA cruz). I don’t get it. As if there are multitudinous “Cruz”s around and we have to identify the “saintly” one.

Sigh.

But speaking Japanese with its adoption and modification of foreign words has taught me a valuable lesson: you can stick to your correct pronunciation guns, but if no-one understands you when you speak, what’s the point?

Jeff Starr is a San Francisco-based Expressionist oil painter who concentrates on themes of Japan, Dreams, Europe and California.

http://www.jeffreydalestarr.com/

We saw some appalling examples of lack of manners on our recent trip to Europe. While waiting in line at Madame Tussauds (which has a famously slow line), we experienced both people cutting in line and a guy who insisted on smoking even when those around him were repeatedly driven to coughing. Offenders in both cases were obviously tourists. Would they behave that way at home? Maybe. But one thing’s for sure—their attitude was, “I’m on my vacation…placate me!!”.

In reality, the attitude should be just the opposite. When Starr and I are visiting a foreign country, our attitude is this: we are guests of these people. While they’re having to go through the drudgery of work, traffic, laundry, etc., we’re sightseeing carefree. How should a proper houseguest behave? Would you rummage through the fridge without permission? Would you jump ahead of your host while he was heading to the restroom? Would you talk loudly when your hosts were being quiet? And yet, that is what many foreign tourists do.

Why do bad manners bother us so much? I’ve boiled it down to two things: justice and respect. Cutting in line bothers us because it is unjust, not just because we’re being inconvenienced. Proof of this: imagine that you are sitting on a park bench and across the street you observe people waiting patiently in line. Suddenly you see some guy obviously cut in line. It bothers us all the same, even though we’re not personally being affected. It offends our innate sense of justice.

And then the matter of respect. If you consider the feelings of others before your own, it will prevent you from behaving in an obviously obnoxious manner. But that’s the heart of the problem—the feelings of others aren’t being considered at all. “I’m tired….I’m hungry…this line is slow…that’s dumb…we don’t do it that way at home…blah blah blah” We’ve heard those kind of comments far too many times. You’re on vacation on the other side of the world!! A lot of people dream of being able to travel and the opportunity never materializes. Quit being such an ungrateful baby.

Jeff Starr is a San Francisco-based Impressionist oil painter who concentrates on themes of Japan, Dreams, Europe and California.

http://www.jeffreydalestarr.com/

In 1991 my favorite band in the world, hands-down, was Pixies. Ask my wife. “Bossanova,” “Surfer Rosa” and “Doolittle” were the only cassettes in my car. I listened to them over and over and over again. They are still my favorite band to this day (although, The Smiths will always be right there).

Here’s the thing—in 1991 Pixies released “Trompe Le Monde.” Of course, I bought it the day it came out. I rushed out to the car and stuck it in the cassette deck and listened. I wanted to like it. It was difficult. On first listen (especially in 1991 when distortion hadn’t yet come into vogue) it sounded like a bunch of noise. And on second, third and fourth listen. I was starting to worry—was this the Emperor’s New Clothes? Had Black Francis lost it?

And then one day an interesting thing happened—it clicked. I finally understood it. The music was so new and groundbreaking that my brain had to rewire itself to grasp it. Suddenly songs like “Distance Equals Rate Times Time” and “The Sad Punk” made perfect sense…like a jigsaw puzzle that had assembled itself before my eyes. And now “Trompe Le Monde” is my favorite Pixies record.

Which brings us to “Embryonic.”

The Flaming Lips have not always been an easy listen. Their earlier records like “Transmissions From The Satellite Heart” and “Clouds Taste Metallic” take a few listens before you get into the groove.

That changed with “The Soft Bulletin,” an absolute masterpiece from 1999 (and up until now, my favorite Lips record). Even though it’s still strange, songs like “Race For The Prize” and “Waitin’ For A Superman” are catchy right off the bat. This trend continued with “Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots” where numbers like “Fight Test” and “Do You Realize??” (their biggest hit) grab you from the get-go and didn’t take a lot of effort to understand.

Their 2006 effort, “At War With The Mystics,” was slightly more experimental but not really difficult. “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song” and “The W.A.N.D.” would appeal to even straight-up AOR rocker types, and “The Sound Of Failure” is simply beautiful.

But now Wayne Coyne and The Lips give us “Embryonic.” This double-length opus is every bit as strange and difficult as “Trompe Le Monde” was in 1991.

First, there is the production. The Flaming Lips had made a name for themselves as being geniuses in the studio. In fact, in one interview Wayne Coyne said he considered the studio itself to be an instrument. “The Soft Bulletin” and “Yoshimi” are recorded with such care and precision they are like vector files of music…no matter how large you expanded the sound it would still be crystal clear and resonant.

The production on “Embryonic” is something else altogether. Some of the songs sound like they were recorded on a broken Walkman. The first time I heard “Convinced Of The Hex” on a preview EP a few weeks ago, I thought the recording was messed up. It sounds like someone poured Diet Coke on the microphone. But I have to admit…after fifteen listens now, it’s one of my all-time favorite Lips songs, and I think the style of recording is one of the key reasons why.

The entire album is about mood. I don’t think there is a real “single” on this record. A radio station would think they received a damaged copy. But for mood, it’s becoming my favorite album on my iPod.

This is a record that is designed to be listened to from beginning to end. I guess you could compare it to Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” (except that album depresses me…sorry Bill). Listening to “Embryonic” is an experience. Songs like “Silver Trembling Hands” and “The Ego’s Last Stand” will stay with you long after listening. It feels like pure genius at work.

The highlight to me is a song called “The Impulse” that sounds like, of all things, a robot singing a torch song. I know that seems nutty, but it’s the number that grabs me the most every time I hear it.

To sum: most people won’t like this album at first—but be patient. In time, I have no doubt that “Embryonic” will be viewed as The Flaming Lips’ masterpiece.

My rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Jeff Starr is a San Francisco-based Impressionist oil painter who concentrates on themes of Japan, Dreams, Europe and California.

http://www.jeffreydalestarr.com/

There’s no doubt that the Industrial Revolution was a two-edged sword. The benefits have been obvious: through efficient means of mechanization and engineering, products could be made at a much faster rate. Since the greatest expense for most businesses is payroll, it doesn’t take an economics wizard to figure out that a manufacturer who can produce one hundred items a day can sell his wares much cheaper than his competitor who can only produce 10 items a day, all things being equal.

Thanks to visionaries like Henry Ford, plants across the world are running robotic (and now computerized) behemoths churning out consumer goodies like great, wheezing, snorting dragons. Even the lower classes can fill their crackerbox apartments with “assemble-it-yourself” TV stands, end tables, and computer desks.

The downside? These items are 100% junk. Even brand-new, most of these items are wobbly, weak, and drab. But jump ahead a mere year or so and the real nightmare begins: warping, discoloration, small piles of sawdust that would suggest termites (but is actually just the wear and stripping of metal screws against horrific pressed wood fibers).

It never ceases to amaze me when I’m watching “Antiques Roadshow” (especially episodes originating from Europe) when they inspect incredible, handmade furniture that is centuries-old. Armoires from the days of Louis XIV. Chests of drawers dating back to the era of Shakespeare. Glorious Faberge eggs.

So what is the source of this rant? As many of you know, I make my living as a Computer Engineer. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoy my work and it pays the bills. But it is not my first choice as a profession. If I had my druthers, I’d be making hand-carved armoires, chairs, and the like. What a sense of satisfaction to create a piece of usable art that, if maintained properly, could be useful to its owners for generations! It would be such a joy to take time and care with every little notch made in the wood, knowing that it would be appreciated long after I was gone.

But as it is…there is very little appreciation for this sort of craftsmanship in our modern, mechanized, instant-gratification society. The amount of money you would have to charge for these pieces makes it sadly impractical as a means of living. I’m sure there are still fine pieces being created out there (if only by the guys at “The Old Yankee Workshop”), but I’m also sure that they’re the sole possession of the super-rich.

Getting back to the opening comment, the lower classes would be much better off (instead of a living room jammed full of junk from IKEA) with a simple, single, well-made coffee table that would last for generations. And society, if in patience acquired these pieces one at a time, would actually save money in the long run. Have heirlooms to pass on to their children. Every few decades just sand down and put a new coat of stain and varnish, and…oh, who am I kidding? The great metal beast just belched out another fiberboard blob of instant gratification.

Jeff Starr is a San Francisco-based Impressionist oil painter who concentrates on themes of Japan, Dreams, Europe and California.

http://www.jeffreydalestarr.com/