Hangin' With The Hoff

Yesterday Alex, Jack, John, and I went on an afternoon adventure to the famed Gasometer. While most of what we found was rather unremarkable, the Gasometer Walk of Stars produced a few gems, most notably...

David Hasselhoff!

So, in tribute to the Hoff, here are his top 5 songs. Words can't really do justice to these videos, so I'll let the Hoff do the talking.

Andmoreagain

In response to yesterday's post, Rob posted the following comment:
"...I can't stop thinking about how useful a time machine to 1979 would be. Can we agree that '79 was the best year on record for pop music?"
As I fastidiously worked on a response, I realized that this was far too important of a debate to be relegated to the comments section. So let the games begin...

1967 is the conventional choice, and it's certainly hard to argue against: Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and Magical Mystery Tour, (The Beatles), Velvet Underground and Nico (Velvet Underground), Smiley Smile and Wild Honey (Beach Boys), Surrealistic Pillow (Jefferson Airplane), Are You Experienced? (Jimi Hendrix), John Wesley Harding (Bob Dylan), Forever Changes (Love), The Who Sell Out (The Who), Something Else By The Kinks (The Kinks), The Doors (The Doors), I Never Loved a Man The Way I Loved You (Aretha Franklin), Moby Grape (Moby Grape), The Piper at The Gates of Dawn (Pink Floyd) and a ton of other outrageously influential albums. Then you have to consider the singles charts: I'm a Believer (The Monkees-written by Neil Diamond), Happy Together (The Turtles), Alice's Restaurant (Arlo Guthrie), San Francisco (Be Sure To Wear Flowers in Your Hair) (Scott McKenzie-written by John Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas), Brown Eyed Girl (Van Morrison), Soul Man (Sam and Dave), Heard It Through The Grapevine (Gladys Knight & The Pips), and the list goes on.

In '79 on the other hand, you have 154 (Wire), Armed Forces (Elvis Costello), The B-52s (The B-52s), Drums and Wires (XTC), Entertainment! (Gang of Four), Fear of Music (Talking Heads), Inflammable Material (Stiff Little Fingers), London Calling (The Clash), Setting Sons (The Jam), Singles Going Steady (The Buzzcocks), The Specials (The Specials), Unknown Pleasures (Joy Division), The Wall (Pink Floyd), etc. Singles charts were still mostly dominated by disco, but Heart of Glass (Blondie), My Sharona (The Knack), and Video Killed The Radio Star (The Buggles) still crept in there.

When you look at the head to head matchup, it's a tough call. In terms of depth, '79 obviously has the advantage with regards to albums, mostly because the industry had undergone some radical changes, and consequently more albums could see the light of day. Singles I think lean towards '67. Though there were some great underground singles being released in'79, when taking with the mainstream charts it's a weaker lot. The remarkable thing about the charts in '67 is that so much of the mainstream stuff (especially Motown and British invasion) was truly great. On the issue of depth then, score 1 point for '67 (for singles) and 1 point for '79 (for albums).
Another possible approach would be to compare the top 5 albums from each year. In that case, my list would look something like this.

1967 (in alphabetical order)
Forever Changes
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
Smiley Smile
Something Else By The Kinks
Velvet Underground & Nico

1979
Armed Forces
Entertainment!
London Calling
Singles Going Steady
Unknown Pleasures

Well, that doesn't really get us any closer to a conclusive decision. Every one of those albums is an undisputed classic. London Calling and Velvet Underground and Nico are arguably my two favorite albums of all-time. Beyond being nearly perfect works on their own terms, all 10 albums went on to influence legions of imitators. In fact, virtually every worthwhile movement in rock music from the last 40 years can be directly traced back to one of those albums, so I'm still at a loss.

What do you guys think? What's your favorite year in the pop music history?

The Only Band That Matters

The title of the post really says it all. Given the title of the blog, hopefully I'll try to incorporate some Clash-centric content on a semi-regular basis. I saw this performance footage on gotv tonight, and it was a stunning reminder of what a live force they must have been. Without a doubt, if given the chance to go back in time to see any band at their peak, I would choose The Clash in '79. If this clip doesn't rile you up and make you excited about music, you're either (A) profoundly lame, (B) 93 years old, (C) hearing impaired, or (D) all of the above. I've said it before, but it warms the cockles of my heart to have a music video channel which is as likely to play a 30 year old video by The Clash as it is to play this gem (which is much, much stranger than you would initially expect).

Wash The Day Away

In the grand scheme of things, my abroad experience doesn't rank very high on the "exotic" scale. Up until this point, the language barrier has been fairly porous, thanks more to the compulsory English component of Austrian schools than to my own broken German. The majority of my interactions so far have come under fairly simple circumstances (buying groceries, giving people basic directions, etc.). Today was the first day when I was really walloped in the face by my own incompetence with this language. But first let me go back in time...

I brought almost exactly two weeks worth of clothes with me, and if you consult the nearest calendar you'll see that I've now been in Vienna for exactly two weeks. Consequently, when the sun came up yesterday, I had reached my final day of clean underwear. The laundry machines in the basement of our building required something called a Quick Card, which is basically a debit card which isn't linked to a bank account. Instead you just load money onto it (think bantam bucks). Well, yesterday John purchased a Quick Card for seven euro at the housing office. So, armed with our new card, I wheeled my suitcase of dirty laundry down to the basement of my apartment. I loaded up one of the tiny, European-sized washing machines and poured in some of the frighteningly noxious detergent we had picked up on one of our grocery excursions. When I built up the courage to saunter over to the Quick Card machine, I inserted my card only to be greeted by a big fat goose egg. As it turns out, the 7 euros John spent on the card in no way reflected the actual balance on the card. I ran upstairs in a panic, and furiously searched the Quick Card website for some way to fill the card. I managed to glean that it might be possible to charge the card at an ATM, so I bundled up and head out to the closest ATM. No dice. Dejected I returned to the laundry room to fetch my clothes. Of course, as you may recall, I was wearing my very last pair of clean underwear, so to compound my humiliation, I had to hand wash a pair of underwear in the basement sink. Tempted as I was to follow Murray's advice and dry my underwear in the microwave, I took the more conservative route and let it air dry overnight.

Determined not to repeat the previous night's debacle I set out to find a bank before class today in hopes of charging my Quick Card. After accidentally stumbling into the Volksbank corporate offices instead of the bank itself, a friendly person gave me instructions (auf Deutsch) to find the regular bank. I was feeling pretty proud of myself for understanding her. That didn't last long. Upon finding the regular bank, I butchered the two sentence script I'd anxiously prepared in my head in anticipation of the transaction. Somehow the teller understood just enough of what I said to inform me that I needed to go to a different bank. When I finally made it to the right bank, I recited my little spiel (a little more smoothly this time). Everything seemed to be going well. The teller took my money and my card and started fumbling with his computer. Then, just I thought he was home free he said something totally incomprehensible. The little shred of confidence I had built up was shattered as I stuttered over even the simplest of phrases. Finally, he put me out of my misery, and explained the issue in English. Goddamit. Thwarted again. German language: 1, stupid American tourist: 0.

Well, when I finally set out to do my laundry, smart card in hand, I figured the worst was over. Ha. Boy was I wrong. After repeating the same procedure from the previous night's aborted attempt, I successfully paid for a load of laundry with my smart card. The operative word is paid. I paid for load of laundry, but the promised service was not delivered. After wasting 3 more euros trying to figure out the machines, Alex and I went upstairs to fetch his dictionary, in hopes that maybe I was misunderstanding the directions. Three more euros later, still nothing. Desperate and out of ideas, Alex and I considered knocking on a strangers door to beg for help. But just as we were on the verge of caving, a miracle occurred! From the heavens, a beautiful Italian woman descended from the heavens (or maybe just the fourth floor). I shouted out for her attention, and she turned around. Fortunately she spoke a little bit of English so my normal stammering and stuttering around beautiful women wasn't compounded by the stammering and stuttering of my attempts to speak German. She accompanied us down to the laundry machines and went through the exact same procedure I had repeated in vain 5 times already. At first I was relieved: at least it wasn't my fault. Then, she stepped over to inspect the machine. After maybe a second and a half she discovered that the door was slightly ajar. She promptly slammed it shut, and instantly the machine started. So after 12 American dollars, I successfully did my first load of Austrian laundry. Now I just have to cross my fingers and hope that sometime between tonight and 9 am tomorrow morning the painfully slow dryer can reduce my clothes from sopping to moist.

Tonight's post is dedicated to the beautiful Italian woman who saved me from the indignities of another night of hand washed underwear. I don't remember her name, and there's a good chance I'll never see her again. But wherever you are, I can never thank you enough.

This one goes out to you, mysterious Italian savior.

Safe European Flog 1:Haute Cuisine When Your Wallet Is Lean (Part 1 of a continuing series)

While Vienna's gastronomical offerings are plentiful, ranging from the rich to the absurdly rich, a nightly diet of schnitzel and beer will drain your wallet almost as fast as it expands your waist. Consequently, the frugal gourmet must restrict his or her restaurant excursions to the bare minimum. During our first week in Vienna, John (my roommate) and I took a relatively spartan approach to dining in. A man can only live on leftover pasta and frankfurters (sans bun) for so long. One fateful evening on my way home from class, I stopped into the grocery store to try to scrounge up a dinner that might veer a little outside the (pasta) box. The fruits of the experiment paid off over the weekend. Our new spirit of culinary adventure has inspired me to start a new regular feature: "Haute Cuisine When Your Wallet Is Lean". This food-oriented sub-blog (or Flog as John suggested) will document my favorite new discoveries during my adventures in budget-conscious cooking. Each week, I'll provide a new recipe, along with a rough estimate of costs, and an assessment of the relative success or failure of the dish. Without further ado, the first recipe:

Potato Chip and Pepper Encrusted Tuna

As 4 out of 5 dentists agree, no tuna sandwich is complete without a healthy portion of potato chips. And not on the side-no no, on the sandwich, cushioned gently between the tuna and the bread. The extra crunchiness and salty kick really put the sandwich over the top. As I was munching on the crummy remains of our .79 eurocent chips, it occurred to me that the magic that results from mixing canned albacore with potato chips might just carry over to tuna steaks. A few night earlier, I had purchased a couple of frozen tuna steaks for 2.50, while attempting to diversify our meat intake (up until this point all of the meat we had consumed was stuffed into tubes of intestines and plastic). So after a little improvisation (and a helluva a lot of blind luck) we ended up with a great meal. The fish had a wonderful golden shell, with a mild bite from the pepper and dijon mustard. I would heartily recommend the dish to anyone, even you only have novice kitchen skills (I for one can barely claim such a feat).

Ingredients:
2 Tuna Steaks, thawed
4 handfuls of plain potato chips
Dijon mustard
Olive oil
Garlic, one clove minced
Crushed black pepper

Instructions:
1) Crush the potato chips in a shallow bowl. Ideally, the flakes should be the size of coarse sand, not a powder. The bottom of a glass can function as a pestle just fine.
2) Sprinkle on a healthy amount of crushed black pepper. Mix until evenly distributed throughout.
3) Coat the tuna steaks (including the sides) with a thin layer of dijon mustard.
4) Dip the tuna steaks in the potato crumbs, ensuring an even coat covers the entire surface of the steak.
5) In a medium sized frying pan, heat up the olive oil and minced garlic over medium heat
6) Gently place the steaks in the pan and sauté them, flipping once after 5-7 minutes. Overall, no more than 14 minutes.

Voila! For under 2 euro per person, you can eat a meal that would go for at least $15 at most restaurants.

Stay tuned for more adventures in the weeks to come.

Death and Glory

First of all, I'm a dirty rotten liar, at least when it comes to blogging. I had hoped to update more frequently this week, but my Deutschkurs proved to be even more demanding than I expected. Fortunately, I really like it. I was concerned that I'd struggle to keep up, but it's moving at a comfortable pace, and, more importantly, I feel like I'm at a similar level to most of the other students. Instead of the stern, merciless Austrian teacher I feared in my mind, I have a very friendly, approachable fellow named Ulrich. He's an outstanding teacher, and I really feel like I've improved dramatically in one week. I'm certainly getting my money's worth. I have class for 3 hours and 15 minutes, five days a week. On top of that, I've had at least two hours of homework each night. I'm already a third of the way through the course though, so I can manage for a couple more intense weeks.

My class is a motley assortment of Turks, Brazilians, Icelanders, Spaniards, and two of us boring old Americans. Everyone in the class is friendly, but I get along particularly well with the Brazilians. Last night after class, we set out to find the only Brazilian restaurant in Vienna, armed only with the knowledge that it was somewhere around Karlsplatz. Predictably, our hour long search was fruitless. We finally settled on a traditional Viennese restaurant. In an effort to look like Mr. Cool, I wanted to order a fancy pants beer, instead of one of the popular choices. In the front of the menu, there was a page labeled "Beer of the Month" (auf Deutsch) that listed two drinks. The beer at the top of the page seemed interesting, but it was a euro more expensive than the option below. Well, if you're out with a couple of Brazilian guys, trying to seem cool, something called "Himbeer" sounds pretty manly. I felt pretty proud of myself when I ordered it. Then, after a few minutes, our waiter returned with the drinks. For my two Brazilian companions he had hefty pints of Austrian beer. For me...a dainty glass bottle with a bright red bubbling soda. As I discovered when I finally reached home, "Himbeere" means rasberry. So much for that...

Today John and I went on an adventure to Zentralfriedhof, the second largest cemetery in Europe, in search of the graves of cool, old, dead Austrians. We naively assumed that a cemetary packed with famous corpses would have some sort of guide or map to the noteworthy graves. Nope. Instead, we wondered through row upon row, searching for both the great men of history and the greatest. Well, as it turns out, when you're looking for 6 or 7 graves in a cemetary with 3.3 million people interred, it's not a simple undertaking. While we never stumbled across Falco's grave, we did manage to find most of the heavy hitters. So without further ado, here's what you've all been waiting for...pictures of me with dead composers!

Be sure to click on the pictures to fully appreciate the badassitude of the headstones.


Franz Schubert


Ludwig van Beethoven


Johann Strauss (the waltz king) and Johannes Brahms

Video Killed My Social Life

There are few things in life I love as much as music videos. The night we lost IMF at home was without a doubt the most depressing night of winter break. Over my final two nights in Tucson, I watched just under 6 hours of music videos. When I discovered that I would have a TV in my room in Vienna, I immediately exclaimed, "MTV Europe!" Of course it shouldn't have come as a surprise when I found subtitled episodes of The Pickup Artist instead of actual music. In my despair, I started rapidly flipping through channels, in hopes of stumbling across salvation. As tempting as the dubbed episodes of Law and Order were (see, America and Austria aren't that different after all), I kept searching. Eventually, my labors were rewarded by the discovery of gotv, the preeminent Austrian music video channel. I've since spent at least 2-3 hours per day soaking in everything from old favorites to this silliness. More importantly, I've had the chance to peer into the soul of the Austrian and German people, and what I've seen is terrifying. This video by Fettes Brot is ridiculously popular. The song is currently number 2 on the Austrian charts, and I've seen the video at least 6 times, but I still find it absolutely terrifying. Nevertheless, it's only the second most frightening song I've heard in Austria. The top honor goes to "Kuschel Song" by Schnuffel. It's like a poor (Austrian) man's Crazy Frog. 'Nuf said.

As you might have heard, Austria and Germany flirted with some questionable politics in the 30s and 40s. It turns out they're still a little sensitive about the whole Nazi thing. Fortunately for us, that insecurity inspired this gem. Sportfreunde Stiller's "Antinazibund" has vaulted into the pantheon of my all-time favorite music videos. It has all the components of a classic video: a catchy song, dramative narrative arc, and (most importantly) healthy dose of ridiculousness. I hope you enjoy Antinazibund as much as I do. Post your favorite moments in the comments.

Tomorrow my language course begins, so I'll post a full report.

Lost in the Supermarket

I've now been in Wien for two and a half days, so I'm starting to settle in to my new surroundings. My apartment is in Vienna's 11th district, half a block down the street from the Simmering stop of the orange line (Linie 3) of the U-bahn (Vienna's subway system). The neighborhood is a relatively uneventful, humble part of the city, but it perfectly suits my needs. There are several cheap kabob restaurants within a two minute walk and a nice cafe a block past the U-bahn stop. When Euro 2008 starts up at the end of May, I can walk two doors down to the local sports bar to soak in the action. As the next few days pass, I'm hoping I can explore the surrounding areas more thoroughly, but I'm satisfied with what I've seen so far.

One thing I learned almost immediately is that this city is not cheap. I have bled money since I arrived. The second I stepped through customs, I spent $90 on my monthly transit pass and my train ticket from the airport into the city. Though cheap meal options abound, a sit-down dinner will set you back at least 12-15 euros. I'm hoping to eat a cheap lunch (5 euro or less) everyday, while enjoying one or two real dinners each week. For breakfast and most dinners, however, I need to make do with the modest kitchen in my apartment. I have a small refrigerator, two burners, a microwave, toaster, sink, and some basic cookware, so fortunately I have enough to get by. Just as importantly, a large supermarket (at least by Viennese standards) is literally across the street. Yesterday, I went on my first supermarket adventure (and it certainly was an adventure) with John and Alex. As soon as we walked in the door, I went to grab a cart, only to find that one must insert a one euro coin before pulling a cart loose from its tether. As you can imagine, I was flabbergasted, and simply abandoned my efforts. After about 5 minutes, I realized how difficult it is to shop for a week's worth of groceries without a cart (quite the revelation), so John went back to fetch us a cart. The fun had just started though. Believe it or not, they don't teach you the word for non-dairy creamer in German-101, so we struggled through the market with only my tenuous grasp on the language and the aid of pictographic food labels. All in all, we did quite well, for much less money than I would have anticipated. In tribute to Rob's Amigos experience, my first home-cooked meal was the world famous frankfurter and scrambled eggs blue plate special.

Now that I'm settled in, you can expect more regular updates, so check in daily (we'll see how long that lasts).