Rock of Ages

While indulging in the world of grunge during my middle school years, playing Nirvana songs with my fellow 12 year olds in a band called Kamikaze (yes, this is true), I always wondered about what it would've been like to have been an 80's rock star. This wonderment became more of a dream when I actually came of an age where girls and booze were exciting things. Fast forward to when I'm nearly 30 and 80s rock sometimes seems to just be a bunch of "those finance people" singing Don't Stop Believin' at the Joshua Tree at 3am. The problem is...that song and many others like it, really are still amazing.

Rock of Ages is a new musical that attempts to harness that dream of 80s rock stardom and package it in an art form that is in some ways does represent the idea of bands like Poison, but in some ways seems the very antithesis of everything that movement supposedly stood for: The Broadway Musical. I was a little skeptical when I first heard about this endeavor, but after a strong recommendation from someone who not only was in their 20s during the 1980s, but has a combination of a great taste in rock and a great disdain for music for "pussy music" (two concerts I've seen with him: Godsmack and George Thorogood). I figured, even with the inclusion of American Idol's Constatine Maroulis as the lead, it couldn't be that lame?

The crowd was, as one would imagine, an interesting one. There were barely any kids and you had your combination of people in suits, tourists, 20somethings, but most importantly, there was some representation from that crowd that I was hoping for...the guy sitting in front of me:



Yes, motorcycle vest, biker's gloves, and as the picture can't show you, a goatee about a foot long. With this guy there, I figured out of concerns for the safety of the cast, this had to be legit.

The show started off a little slow, and as I worried, it was somewhat tough sitting there watching a bunch of broadway types dancing around to choreographed routines with moves reminiscent of The Producers, to songs like Sister Christian and the Final Countdown. Even more disturbing was the combination of these songs into medley formats. At one early point, the Sherrie is on the phone with her father. The father, of course back at the farm in Kansas, doesn't believe in her dreams and hangs up on her, when she just wanted to tell her dad, she just wanted to....."Saying I love you, is not the words I want to say to you." Yes, there were many moments like this in the first 20 minutes that worried me.

Then...enter the "arrogant rock star" character, Stacee Jaxx. The character changed the entire direction of the show. One of his first actions was to sign an autograph for a fan with a pen sticking out of his fly. The guy was absolutely absurd and almost every word out of his mouth was hilarious. Suddenly, it became clear the writers had a tremendously self-aware perspective of what this production was. Having a bunch of performers who normally perform in lion king or cat costumes, trying to recreate the aggression of an Axl Rose, was an impossible task. Instead all the stars displayed a good deal of self-aware, self-deprecating humor between spectacular singing performances. They made clear they knew this was not supposed to be a legitimate representation of the 80s....and it was definitely the raunchiest musical I've ever seen.

I did become a little worried though, as the bald dude in front of us looked very pissed. He constantly turned to his wife and looked to be complaining. I did wonder: if you truly were living the rock n' roll lifestyle in the 80s, watching a broadway bastardization of it might disgust you. If everything you held dear, if the memory of friends who actually died in drug overdoses, was now being mocked by a guys singing soprano in makeup (no offense to Bret Michales), wouldn't you be pissed? The guy grabbed his bag and his lady at intermission, and we guessed he wouldn't be back.

Right before the curtains came back open, him and his guest actually did make it back to their seats. The show only got better and better and we kept observing him, but saw absolutely no reaction. As everyone around us started clapping, including a 50 year old Asian guy who was there by himself and pumping his fist to Pat Benatar, the bald dude showed no emotion and only clutched his beer.

After the last number, a massively climactic rendition of everyone's favorite Journey classic, the last chord was struck, there was maybe a moment before the crowd erupted in applause.

The bald guy, violently raised his arm to the rafters, and clenched tightly in that leather fist....a lit lighter.

Absolutely. Fucking. Awesome.

What I Want to Be When I Grow Up

I'm currently sitting at Fiddlesticks, a fine drinking establishment in the West Village. It's the day where the taxman cometh and hopefully, unlike Geithner, turbotax won't screw me up (though as my biggest asset is my television my taxes really should not be too complicated). I came here as the advertised combination of Champions League soccer and free wifi were just too tantalizing to turn down. The daytime sporting bar scene is an interesting one, as there's definitely a good combination of drinking choices, from some folks drinking a cup of coffee, an orange juice, and a guy wearing a suit drinking a martini.

What has caught my attention is at one table is a trendily dressed British guy sitting with his two kids, who are in similar fashion, dressed way cooler than I think I'll ever be capable of (they both look to be about 11 or 12 years old). As I watch Cristiano Ronaldo repeatedly dive and hopefully see Porto come back here, I have to wonder, what job allows this British guy to take the afternoon off, bring his kids to a bar, and watch soccer? Is he obscenely wealthy and just retired by 40? Is he from money and never worked a day in his life, introducing his children to the life of leisure at an early age? Is it just as simple as he planned ahead, took the day off, and let his kids play hooky for the match? Could he be, dare I say, a fellow severance kid? All I know is, while I'm not sure what I'll be doing post-MBA, I want to do what he's doing. Oh, and he's drinking a Guinness.

Spy Wednesday

When I was laid off on January 22nd, I had a vision of what April would hold in store: 60-70 degree days, playing soccer in Central Park, margaritas outside, and wandering the streets endlessly. Well, that happened on Sunday, and now by Wednesday we're back to sub-40 degrees with some snow flurries this morning.

I was a bit restless this morning as my laptop is currently being repaired for a hard drive failure, preventing me from accessing the lifeblood that keeps me going, wifi and rosetta stone. I woke up fairly early, went to the gym, and after starting to check emails realized that this weekend is Easter and Passover is apparently tonight. As a general agnostic, and part-time Hindu, I never really keep track of this stuff but decided that maybe I should head up to a weekday church service; see what all the buzz is about.

As the saying goes, go big or go home, and I went big. I made my way up to St. Patrick's Cathedral on 5th ave in midtown for their 1pm Holy Week mass. The scene when you walk in was the very definition of breathtaking, and by breathtaking I mean I actually gasped and under my breath uttered "Holy Shit!" The ceiling soars above you and the amount of ornate gold structures and statues throughout definitely humbles you. I remember visiting the Vatican while in Rome with a Catholic friend, who as we walked in and were both just dumbfounded, smirked towards me and said, "this stuff really does kind of make you think we're the right ones, no?"

I've never attended an actual Catholic mass before, but been to numerous Catholic weddings and I never have absolutely any idea of when I'm supposed to do things like sing along or kneel. Luckily St Patricks is so immense that you can have a good view but kind of hide to the side and keep to yourself. The mass was actually really interesting as today apparently was "Spy Wednesday", the day Judas cut the deal to sell out Jesus. They described the Last Supper at length, during which I realized that the recent South Park on the economy actually was fairly faithful in its depiction and the different interactions that take place during the event. The priest also somehow calculated that Jesus was sold out for today's equivalent of $19.27, don't ask me what shekel exchange rate he used or inflation he calculated this off of, but he hammered this point. While the whole experience was somewhat somber, it definitely reminded me that religious services are definitely a good indoor activity to do if the weather continues sucking like this. I wonder if countries that suffer from terrible weather (i.e. Britain) are much more devout.......

Gaga for Geithner

The past few months have definitely seen the turbulence of last fall's financial crisis continue, and one of the central figures in the battle against that invisible hand that is beating the global economy like Rihanna (sorry....sorry, too soon? ) has been our Treasury Secretary, Timothy Geithner.

Right now America needs its whipping boys, and the while bankers are the easiest of targets right now, Mr. Geithner does exert a tremendous amount of influence and is thus naturally the target for much of the ire. Economists from the left and the right are on the attack, even 90 days into the job. I became curious about Sir Geithner's own background and after some digging, and by digging I mean googling and wikipedia'ing, there were a few standouts that definitely secured my faith in both Geithner and the choice of keeping him around. A few points:

1) The whole idea that he is not 'exciting' or 'charismatic' enough is absolutely insane. Are you fucking kidding me? I think the American public has become a little too used to Obama's rhetorical flourish. Do people even remember what Paul O'Neill looked like? Do you remember John Snow's crazyass eyebrows? These men were not particularly memorable, and the position does not demand it. I want the head of my banking sector and planner of the economy to be the most boring guy around. The guy who is excited about analyzing capital ratios, the guy who would much rather be reading Cecil Pigou / Adam Smith debates than at a Yankees game boozin' in the box and making us all laugh.

2) Have you read this guy's background? Forget Dartmouth, his dad was the Director of the Ford Foundation's Asia program. He grew up in Zambia, Zimbabwe, India, and graduated high school in Bangkok! (Fun Fact: His Dad met Barack Obama's mom in Indonesia years back as part of a microfinance initiative). He speaks Chinese and Japanese. Please do not forget that China is currently America's sugar daddy, and while our marriage has worked out so far and China still wants his trophy wife, he might one day find a younger, hotter commodity to spend his money on. We need someone exposed to that part of the world, with legitimacy, to make sure any such troubles or transitions are orderly.

And can you imagine Geithner and Obama talking during the hiring process? "Hey man, were you beat up by the local Asian kids for being an American?" "Sweet, so was I. Let's talk banking." When we elected Obama, we gave a mandate for more a more worldly administration full of people with real international experience, and we got it.

3) I think the "Bank Stabilization Plan" as it stands is the perfect strategy. The Krugmans are strongly calling for some sort of receivership or nationalization of insolvent institutions. What I have never quite understood is that the Geithner plan does not preclude this from ever occurring. It rather lays out a specific attempt at revitalizing the troubled market, and if, even with all the government support, an institution is deemed insolvent rather (than just a liquidity issue), then have Sheila Bair grab Vikram Pandit by the nuts and twist away. The only real argument has been the urgency of the "moment", but I feel a more cautious strategy that leaves nationalization as the last resort will be deemed much more legitimate. The worst outcome we could have would be a nationalization deemed by the market and public as illegitimate, completely negating any progress we've made.

4) The idea that Geithner is in "bed with his Wall Street buddies" is both ridiculous, and somewhat visually troublin. The guy could've easily left at any point and joined the revolving Rubin-esque door and made millions. But he didn't, he stayed in public service. Admittedly, the NY Fed is not paid like a non-profit, but he could've made many times more at any bank with his background and he chose not to. That very decision should give him the benefit of the doubt in decisions like the AIG bonus brouhaha. The fact is, he did not realize the political implications of the bonus issue because he was concerned with much broader issues regarding the survival of the banking industry. If anything, it should indicate a serious approach to the problem rather than a pandering, political approach.


Bonus: For any of you who have read this entire entry, I am in a coffee shop and there is a apartment broker negotiating with a potential tenant, but spending more time trying to ask her out. He definitely did say "there's a gym right down the block, but you don't even need to go you're so fit!"