This album was recorded in Ireland:
Although the band liked the demo, it was difficult for them to record the song. Bassist Adam Clayton said, “At the time it sounded like a foreign language, whereas now we understand how it works”. The arrangement, with two time signature shifts and frequent chord changes, was rehearsed many times, but the group struggled to get a performance they liked. According to co-producer Daniel Lanois, “that was the science project song. I remember having this massive schoolhouse blackboard, as we call them. I was holding a pointer, like a college professor, walking the band through the chord changes like a fucking nerd. It was ridiculous.” Co-producer Brian Eno estimates that half of the album sessions were spent trying to record a suitable version of “Where the Streets Have No Name”. The band worked on a single take for weeks, but as Eno explained, that particular version had a lot of problems with it and the group continued trying to fix it up. Through all of their work, they had gradually replaced each instrument take until nothing remained from the original performance.
So much time had been spent on “screwdriver work” that Eno thought it would be best to start from scratch. His idea was to “stage an accident” and have the song’s tapes erased. He said that this was not to force abandonment of the song, but rather that it would be more effective to start again with a fresh performance. At one point, Eno had the tapes cued up and ready to be recorded over, but this erasure never took place; according to engineer Flood, fellow engineer Pat McCarthy returned to the control room and upon seeing Eno ready to erase the tapes, dropped the tray of tea he was carrying and physically restrained Eno.
This album was recored in Joshua Tree, CA:
The street art in my neighborhood is good.
There’s always something wild at the Taschen store.
This one I walk by all the time, and I got to wondering, who is Mama Irene?
Some local Latina community leader? Is she wearing gardening clothes? A pioneering urban farmer?
Seen here with my colleague Ted for scale:
Turns out, this is the mother of EDM impresario and Electric Daisy Carnival founder Pasquale Rotella:
The mural was unveiled after Mama Irene’s funeral at nearby Hollywood Forever cemetery. It was commissioned by Kaskade.
Early on Thursday, July 27, these two people entered Joshua Tree National Park.
At 4:50 pm that day, there was a ping from the guy’s cell phone that put them in the park.
That was a darn hot day in the park:
On Friday, July 28, says The Hi Desert Star, the person who took care of the Air BnB where they were supposed to be checked out :
The car was found near the Maze Loop trailhead, one of the closest trails to the West Entrance of the park:
Here it is on Tom Harrison’s map:
For perspective, here is the whole park, which is, in our nation’s tiredest comparison, almost as big as Rhode Island:
All the more tragic to think these folks weren’t too far from a road. The Maze Loop looks like this:
It’s trippy and weird and spooky and cool:
The trail is pretty well marked but it’s easy to get lost if it’s a hundred degrees and you’re out of water.
All day that Saturday, July 29, there were helicopters over the park.
Walking along the northern edge of the park that evening I ran into a search and rescue team, who told me the troubling tale of the missing hikers. They had crossed up from the trailhead looking for these folks. They’d found a water bottle, weren’t sure it was related.
There was strange weather in the desert around this time. On Sunday July 30 a monsoon blew through:
An interesting detail that emerged, again from the Hi Desert Star, that the young man had been out to the park a few weeks before, on “a scouting trip,” with a friend who could now not be found because he was in Japan.
“Interesting,” I thought.
Perhaps someday they would be found alive like this lost couple.
The search was downgraded from “search and rescue” to “search and recovery.”
But the persistent searchers, including the missing man’s father, kept at it.
On Sunday, Oct. 15:
The cause of death was a twist: gunshot wounds.
A curious case.
The absolute source I would want to get on this story would be Desert Oracle, and wouldn’t you know it, Desert Oracle radio came in with a strong take. Let me encourage you to listen to Desert Oracle, Episode 12, to which I award a spontaneous Helytimes Prize for Best Podcast Episode, California Division, 2017.
You can subscribe to Desert Oracle print quarterly here, and at $25, you’re crazy not to.
An inflammatory clickbait headline but I have a point.
Excerpt from Trump’s presidential announcement speech, as transcribed by Time:
Did he say “they’re rapists” or “their rapists,” as in “they’re bringing crime, their rapists”?
The latter seems to me the kind of way Trump talks. We in the media (everybody) hurt the anti-Trump cause if we do anything that could remotely be considered exaggerating. It’s not necessary, the person who gave this speech obvi shouldn’t be President, whether he said “they’re rapists” or “their rapists.” Why not give him any margin calls to avoid accusations of unfairness?
Whatever — the point is Trump’s candidacy was driven by fear of Mexico / Mexicans, South America and Latin America.
Concern that the Anglo-Protestant tradition of America was about to be overwhelmed or subsumed or at least weakened by a Mexico-Catholic-Hispanic tradition is as old as Anglo-Protestants and Hispanic-Catholics sharing a continent I reckon. It’s a theme in this book, for instance.
My suggestion here is that what could be more Latin American than electing a bullying gangster/businessman who talks like this?:
Trump might build a wall, but Latin American style politics has come to us.
My Chilean buddy mentioned that when he saw Trump at the U. N., he thought, “oh he’s Chavez.”
One of the reasons why Mexico sucks is their presidents have been guys like Trump: nepotistic bully-gangsters who care about nothing but enriching themselves, their family, their idiot sons-in-law, and creating enough chaos and division that the “order” appears necessary.
Something I tried to get at in my book
is that Los Angeles is at least as much a part of the South American world as it is a part of the Anglo world.
It’s the northernmost city in South America, as much a part of this world:
and this world
as it is of this world
and this world
This doesn’t have to be bad, duh. It’s part of why Los Angeles is one of the most dynamic, exciting, creative, and appealing places in the country. (That along with trans-Pacific partnership, which Trump is also fouling up.)
Trump voters should be less worried about Latin Americans coming here, and more worried about a Latin American-style president.
Worry less about Mexicans, and more a breakdown into Mexican style corruption, disregard for rule of law, one party rule, and a generally more cruel, ugly, hopeless and depressing politics.
Worry less about Mexicans coming here, and more about the United States becoming more like Mexico.
Trump voters should be doing a lotta things different, if you ask me!
Way out near the border to Arizona are the Blythe Intaglios, California’s answer to the Nazca lines.
You can see them easily on Google Maps.
Intaglio comes from an Italian word: to engrave.
What was the point of these things?
Some researchers hypothesize that the intaglios are stopping points on a keruk pilgrimage or simply the practice of the keruk ceremony at various places. The keruk was a mourning ceremony that was practiced by various Native Americans in southern California. The keruk included the reenactment of the creator’s death and the recognition of the people who had died since the last keruk. Warfare has been offered a possible explanation as to the spread along the Colorado River of ceremonies such as the keruk and the similar style of desert intaglios.
They were first “discovered” by pilots in the ’30s.
I keep meaning to go out there and have a look but it’s like four hours away.
Three of the four Arnold children. The oldest boy earned the money to buy his bicycle. Western Washington, Thurston County, Michigan Hill.
Child living in Oklahoma City shack town
at a sample
Cotton picker, southern San Joaquin Valley
Woman in pea picker’s camp. California. “I seen our corn dry up and blow over the fence back there in Oklahoma”
Children of migratory Mexican field workers. The older one helps tie carrots in the field. Coachella Valley, California
Dorothea Lange photos
Mexican girl who picks peas for the eastern market. Imperial Valley, California