Fashion? The phone rang, shaking me from a heavy dream-filled sleep. Custard donuts danced in front of my face as I leaped off my couch, and seen that the basketball players on the tube just inches in front of my face looked like ET. What were these alien bein's doin' in my apartment, and where the hell was the phone? Hmmmm, ba- by, I was breathin' hard and cursin' loud as I kicked aside piles of dirty clothes, empty beer bottles, and stinky pizza boxes. I heard the damned thing ringin', but where in the name of Alex Bell was it? Finally, I found it underneath an empty box of Flavo-Ice's. "Hello, Al?" "Y-y-yes" "You sound out of breath. Were you running?" "No, I weren't runnin' you damned fool, I was sleepin.' Who the hell is this, and what the hell do you want?" It was the Weekend magazine editors. Had I ever seen one of their Stress'? Hebheb-heb, pop ml fashion issues, they wanted to know. Yes, yes, I reckon I leafed through one of 'em before I says. Well, the thing is, could I please write a 21 inch column for their danged fool spring fashion issue. It seems those good ol' boys needed a little filler. Looking around my apartment, at the clothes-covered floor, I let out a loud guffaw. Heh-heh -heh. Could it be that these fellers really wanted me to write about fashion? Sorry fellas, I told 'em in a lickety split, but I can't do it. I'd love to, I mean there ain't nothin' I love more than seein' this here little picture of meself in the magazine. But fashion? Heh-heh-heh. Who got in their heads to include me in such foolish crapola? Now let me make one thing perfectly clear. I ain't makin' no wimpy apology for bein' slightly less than a fashion guru. Shee- it, I'm proud of the fact. Yessiree, as sure as my ma can skin a 'coon, I got better things to do than to go afussin' and aprimpin' over what piece of cloth I got draped over my fat frame. A burlap sack'll do. My idea of spring fashion is cutting another pair of corduroys off at the knees. Or loppin' the arms of a flannel shirt. I ain't bought nuthin' AFAT AL new since cousin Enid's weddin' two years ago when I had to get me a suit fitted. Nosireebob, fashion just ain't my cup of brew. Well, they says to me, it's got a theme you see, it's "fashion under stress," so maybe you can do something there. A theme? says I. Well, don't that sound purty. It's still a pile of pig Anyhow, I says, stress has agot to be right down thar with fashion on the Fat Al totem pole on account of the fact that I ain't one to let that ol' dread disease get to me. Boys, you got a better chance to make a, laughin" hyena cry than make me stress out. Like my pa tol' me, if you have to take a crap, it don't matter how busy you are, you find the time. Yeppers, and if you have to sleep, you just go on ahead and find time to saw yourself some logs. And ifin you got to eat, you eat, and ifin you got to relax, you pop yourself a cold one and kick off your shit- kickers. Life's just too goddamned short to let yourself figger you ain't got no time for the good things in it. So I guess that there is my piece on stress. See, I got my humongus hands filled with laughing at life on account of how I figger there ain't but two choices in this crazy ol' world: laugh at it or let it drive you mad. And you ain't never goin' to e a Pabst see this fatman in Bellevue. So the point in hand -- and that's better'n two in the ivory tower - is that with all the right proper things, from tortuous smurfs in Panama to cement on the diag, to fret 'n fuss over, ifin you're feelin' stress over what you're awearin', I feel right sorry for you. Continued from page 10 Interior Design Windham Hill Records The rise of so-called "new age" music- the opening of a whole new market to artists of truly musical vision- has been one of the most exciting, positive trends of the '80s, often bringing instrumental imagination to a pop music chart plagued by the soulless, pushbutton bimbo-pop of Tiffany, etc. A refreshingly impossible-to-de- fine category, new age can involve styles ranging from acoustic-guitar (Michael Hedges) to pseudo-fusion rock (Shadowfax) or ambient solo- piano (George Winston)-all artists on the genre's. flagship label, Wind- ham Hill. Despite the promise of new ideas, one gets apprehensive about new age releases-so many amount to little more than dull, self- indulgent keyboard noodlings. Which is why a group such as Interior comes as so breathtaking a surprise-this duo encompasses all the best possibilities opened up 'til now by new age, combining subtle atmospherics with the wide-screen sound of film soundtracks and the forceful rhythms of modern rock. The album's title is appropriate; Interior dismiss baroque new-age wimpiness with the power of grand designs. At their best, as the expan- sive "Gaia" suggests, members Eiki Nonaka (guitars, sampled drums) and Daisuke Hinata (keyboards) aspire to a style that puts the sublime elec- tronic patterns of synth-composers Vangelis and Larry Fast into the simplified focus of pop structures. The combination of Hinata's uplift- ing arpeggios and ethereal sampling keyboards with Nonaka's engaging drum sounds and synth-bass rhythms approaches the stately big-music dy- namics of Shadowfax or rockers w... Simple Minds. And although the songs on Design meld into a seamless whole, their variety further testifies to a wide scope of influences. The placid at- mospherics of "River" and "Out of Tokyo" expand on Brian Eno's am- bience, while "N.Y. 1908" is the closest Interior get to Winston, a classically-influenced solo piano piece. The beautiful "Shadows of You" draws texture from ornate acoustic guitar and breathy, wide- open thematic spaces. And the ob- tuse, surging bass of "Spring Walk" is an experimental touch from the cutting edge; significantly, the use of MIDI sequencers and fully digital PASS IT AROUND! (JeePe CreP') -'K GARDEN Restaurant Specializing in Szechuan, Hunan & Peking Cuisine DELIVERY AVAILABLE FOR: LUNCH 11:30am-2pm Mon.-Fri. 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