"Vengeance is Sleeping" from Neko Case's latest album Middle Cyclone:
Neko Case - Vengeance Is Sleeping
I didn’t know what a brute I was
I dipped my cigarette and rode the bus
Vengeance built me hastily
And I drag the clanging notion I was nobody, nobody
Nobody
All I had was my invention
And my love invented on you
Oh, look what thoughts can do
What thoughts can do
If you’re not by now dead and buried
You’re most certifiably married
Oh, married
I’m sure you’re sleeping sound
With a mistress of the hours
The hours that grind your life to dust
Oh, easy loves
You keep like pets
Denied them you are powerless
Whatever keeps you sleeping through the night
I’m not the man you thought I was
My love has never lived indoors
I had to drag it home by force
Hired hounds at both my wrists
Damp and bruised by stranger’s kisses on my lips
But you’re the one that I still miss
You’re the one that I still miss
And it's ruthless that it comes as no surprise
I’m not the man you think I am
I’m not the man you think I am
17 May, 2009
Restless @ 3AM
I am reading an old article in an old New Yorker about the twin poets Michael and Matthew Dickman. It is a wonderful study in how imagination can extend beyond the circumstances of your birth and the situation in which you are raised, or your genetic make-up (in this case).
Here is a poem by Michael Dickman from an even earlier issue of the New Yorker (September 1st, 2008).
We Did Not Make Ourselves
by Michael Dickman
We did not make ourselves is one thing
I keep singing into my hands
while falling
asleep
for just a second
before I have to get up and turn on all the lights in the house, one after the
other, like opening an Advent calendar
My brain opening
the chemical miracles in my brain
switching on
I can hear
dogs barking
some trees
last stars
You think you’ll be missed
it won’t last long
I promise
_
I’m not dead but I am
standing very still
in the back yard
staring up at the maple
thirty years ago
a tiny kid waiting on the ground
alone in heaven
in the world
in white sneakers
I’m having a good time humming along to everything I can still remember
back there
How we’re born
Made to look up at everything we didn’t make
We didn’t
make grass, mosquitoes
or breast cancer
We didn’t make yellow jackets
or sunlight
either
_
I didn’t make my brain
but I’m helping
to finish it
Carefully stacking up everything I made next to everything I ruined in broad
daylight in bright
brainlight
This morning I killed a fly
and didn’t lie down
next to the body
like we’re supposed to
We’re supposed to
Soon I’m going to wake up
Dogs
Trees
Stars
There is only this world and this world
What a relief
created
over and over
Here is a poem by Michael Dickman from an even earlier issue of the New Yorker (September 1st, 2008).
We Did Not Make Ourselves
by Michael Dickman
We did not make ourselves is one thing
I keep singing into my hands
while falling
asleep
for just a second
before I have to get up and turn on all the lights in the house, one after the
other, like opening an Advent calendar
My brain opening
the chemical miracles in my brain
switching on
I can hear
dogs barking
some trees
last stars
You think you’ll be missed
it won’t last long
I promise
_
I’m not dead but I am
standing very still
in the back yard
staring up at the maple
thirty years ago
a tiny kid waiting on the ground
alone in heaven
in the world
in white sneakers
I’m having a good time humming along to everything I can still remember
back there
How we’re born
Made to look up at everything we didn’t make
We didn’t
make grass, mosquitoes
or breast cancer
We didn’t make yellow jackets
or sunlight
either
_
I didn’t make my brain
but I’m helping
to finish it
Carefully stacking up everything I made next to everything I ruined in broad
daylight in bright
brainlight
This morning I killed a fly
and didn’t lie down
next to the body
like we’re supposed to
We’re supposed to
Soon I’m going to wake up
Dogs
Trees
Stars
There is only this world and this world
What a relief
created
over and over
10 May, 2009
Ben Kweller + Antoine Doinel
Last summer I watched Le Quatre cents coups right around this time of year (highly interested readers can search in this blog if they want to know the exact date). Today I found the lyrics to this song in a Facebook message.
This is a sign. I need to move.
07 May, 2009
"Soul Man" - The Blues Brothers
Soul Man (LIVE) by The Blues Brothers
I need to rent/watch this movie and Animal House this weekend. I am in love with John Belushi. Soul and a sense of humor are the keys to my heart.
I need to rent/watch this movie and Animal House this weekend. I am in love with John Belushi. Soul and a sense of humor are the keys to my heart.
05 May, 2009
"Classic" is relative
I learned a choreographed dance to this song when I was six or seven. (I love the horns and the bass...)
04 May, 2009
It's been awhile...
...And really, I still do not have time to blog, but I promise my lovely readers that I will be back in full swing this summer (just around the corner).
Until that time, here are a few quotes that I have been playing with (in my mind and in my academic writing):
But the urn of language is so fragile. It crumbles and immediately you blow into the dust of words which are the cinder itself. And if you entrust it to paper, it is all the better to inflame you with, my dear, you will eat yourself up immediately. No, this is not the tomb he would have dreamed of in order that there may be a place [y ait lieu], as they say, for the work of mourning to take its time. In this sentence I see the tomb of a tomb, the monument of an impossible tomb - forbidden, like the memory of a cenotaph, deprived of the patience of mourning, denied also the slow decomposition that shelters, lodges, hospitalizes itself in you while you eat the pieces (he did not want to eat the piece but was forced to). An incineration celebrates perhaps the nothing of the all, its destruction without return but mad with its desire and with its cunning (all the better to preserve everything, my dear), the desperately disseminal affirmation but also just the opposite, the categorical "no" to the laborious work of mourning, a "no" of fire. Can one ever accept working for His Higness Mourning? (Cinders, Jacques Derrida. 1991. p. 55).
What a difference between cinder and smoke: the latter apparently gets lost, and better still, without perceptible remainder, for it rises, it takes to the air, it is spirited away, sublimated. The cinder - falls, tires, lets go, more material since it fritters away its word; it is very divisible (Cinders, Jacques Derrida. 1991. p. 73).
and here is a video that is wonderful:
Love, Peace, and all that Jazz.
Until that time, here are a few quotes that I have been playing with (in my mind and in my academic writing):
But the urn of language is so fragile. It crumbles and immediately you blow into the dust of words which are the cinder itself. And if you entrust it to paper, it is all the better to inflame you with, my dear, you will eat yourself up immediately. No, this is not the tomb he would have dreamed of in order that there may be a place [y ait lieu], as they say, for the work of mourning to take its time. In this sentence I see the tomb of a tomb, the monument of an impossible tomb - forbidden, like the memory of a cenotaph, deprived of the patience of mourning, denied also the slow decomposition that shelters, lodges, hospitalizes itself in you while you eat the pieces (he did not want to eat the piece but was forced to). An incineration celebrates perhaps the nothing of the all, its destruction without return but mad with its desire and with its cunning (all the better to preserve everything, my dear), the desperately disseminal affirmation but also just the opposite, the categorical "no" to the laborious work of mourning, a "no" of fire. Can one ever accept working for His Higness Mourning? (Cinders, Jacques Derrida. 1991. p. 55).
What a difference between cinder and smoke: the latter apparently gets lost, and better still, without perceptible remainder, for it rises, it takes to the air, it is spirited away, sublimated. The cinder - falls, tires, lets go, more material since it fritters away its word; it is very divisible (Cinders, Jacques Derrida. 1991. p. 73).
and here is a video that is wonderful:
Dirty Mouth from Joe Fenstermaker on Vimeo.
Love, Peace, and all that Jazz.
26 April, 2009
14 April, 2009
"Click, Click, Click, Click" - Bishop Allen
This song must be written about people I know. It makes me feel comfortable and uncomfortable all at once.
12 April, 2009
"Daughters (LIVE)" - John Mayer
I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
but she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls are continually changed
And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hand
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me
Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Ooh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left
cleaning up the mess he made
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too
Boys, you can break
You find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from
A woman's good, good heart
On behalf of every man
looking out for every girl
You are the guide and the weight of her world
So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
So mothers be good to your daughters, too
So mothers be good to your daughters, too.
11 April, 2009
06 April, 2009
Sasha Frere-Jones is wondering...
if 808's and Heartbreak was strongly influenced by The-Dream's "Nikki" (and really quite a bit of Lovehate, if we are going to be honest). I would say yes, absolutely yes.
You can decide for yourself!
You can decide for yourself!
05 April, 2009
A Supermarket in California - Allen Ginsberg
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whit-
man, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees
with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images,
I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of
your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole fam-
ilies shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives
in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you,
GarcÃa Lorca, what were you doing down by the
watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old
grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator
and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed
the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my
Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of
cans following you, and followed in my imagination
by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in
our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every
frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors
close in an hour. Which way does your beard point
tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets?
The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses,
we'll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent
cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-
teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit
poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank
and stood watching the boat disappear on the black
waters of Lethe?
man, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees
with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images,
I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of
your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole fam-
ilies shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives
in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you,
GarcÃa Lorca, what were you doing down by the
watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old
grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator
and eyeing the grocery boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed
the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my
Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of
cans following you, and followed in my imagination
by the store detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in
our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every
frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors
close in an hour. Which way does your beard point
tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets?
The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses,
we'll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent
cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-
teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit
poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank
and stood watching the boat disappear on the black
waters of Lethe?
"One good thing about music...
"...when it hits you feel no pain."
I have recently become enamored with iTunes' Genius feature. It is a interesting concept: one push of a button and you have an instant playlist. It is really a marvelous little piece of technology, and unbelievably helpful when I am dead tired and I need an unending stream of lullabyes to cushion my dreams. Still, I miss the tactile/aural nature of creating my own playlists, and I miss the connections that arise from these endeavors. The synchronistic rarely shows its face when Genius is compiling my soundtrack. For instance, this morning I wanted a playlist crafted around "Trenchtown Rock" by Bob Marley and the Wailers. The only artists that iTunes even thought of including were reggae artists or artists influenced by reggae (Jimmy Cliff, Damian Marley + Nas, Toots and the Maytals, Super Cat, Ziggy, and Bob). What about punk and ska? Fuck that, what about classical?
Here's my playlist for this morning (I dare you to guess my mood):
"Trenchtown Rock (LIVE)" - Bob Marley and the Wailers
"The Wind that Shakes the Barley/The Reel with the Beryle" - The Chieftains
"You're No God" - Laura Marling
"Slow Ride" - Foghat
"Henrietta" - The Fratellis (this song has been in all of my mixes recently. Am I feeling like a tragic character? Possibly, but I still have a sense of humor).
"Someday Baby (featuring Lyrics Born)" - R.L. Burnside
"Maggie's Farm" - Bob Dylan ("I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more...").
"Mr. Big Stuff" - Jean Knight
"Respect" - Aretha Franklin
I have recently become enamored with iTunes' Genius feature. It is a interesting concept: one push of a button and you have an instant playlist. It is really a marvelous little piece of technology, and unbelievably helpful when I am dead tired and I need an unending stream of lullabyes to cushion my dreams. Still, I miss the tactile/aural nature of creating my own playlists, and I miss the connections that arise from these endeavors. The synchronistic rarely shows its face when Genius is compiling my soundtrack. For instance, this morning I wanted a playlist crafted around "Trenchtown Rock" by Bob Marley and the Wailers. The only artists that iTunes even thought of including were reggae artists or artists influenced by reggae (Jimmy Cliff, Damian Marley + Nas, Toots and the Maytals, Super Cat, Ziggy, and Bob). What about punk and ska? Fuck that, what about classical?
Here's my playlist for this morning (I dare you to guess my mood):
"Trenchtown Rock (LIVE)" - Bob Marley and the Wailers
"The Wind that Shakes the Barley/The Reel with the Beryle" - The Chieftains
"You're No God" - Laura Marling
"Slow Ride" - Foghat
"Henrietta" - The Fratellis (this song has been in all of my mixes recently. Am I feeling like a tragic character? Possibly, but I still have a sense of humor).
"Someday Baby (featuring Lyrics Born)" - R.L. Burnside
"Maggie's Farm" - Bob Dylan ("I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more...").
"Mr. Big Stuff" - Jean Knight
"Respect" - Aretha Franklin
03 April, 2009
"The Employment Pages (LIVE)" - Death Cab For Cutie
We spread out and occupy the cracks in the urban streets.
Idle now... I rearrange the furniture as you sleep.
It's so appropriate... the way we amplify the sound,
And then the neighbors drop by and they ask (us) to turn it down again...
We spread out and everyone is frightfully more aware.
So impressed... the cocktail politics and obscure details.
And it was true that I was truly failing.
But you were gone and I was home calling around but nothing was found worthwhile.
This is one of my current favorites. It makes me miss home.
01 April, 2009
"Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow" - Amy Winehouse
This one of those "don't watch the video" videos. The song is bad-ass.
Tonight you're mine completely,
You give your love so sweetly,
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes,
But will you love me tomorrow?
Is this a lasting treasure,
Or just a moment's pleasure,
Can I believe the magic of your sighs,
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Tonight with words unspoken,
You said that I'm the only one,
But will my heart be broken,
When the night (When the night)
Meets the morning sun.
I'd like to know that your love,
Is love I can be sure of,
So tell me now and I won't ask again,
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Tonight you're mine completely,
You give your love so sweetly,
Tonight the light of love is in your eyes,
But will you love me tomorrow?
Is this a lasting treasure,
Or just a moment's pleasure,
Can I believe the magic of your sighs,
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Tonight with words unspoken,
You said that I'm the only one,
But will my heart be broken,
When the night (When the night)
Meets the morning sun.
I'd like to know that your love,
Is love I can be sure of,
So tell me now and I won't ask again,
Will you still love me tomorrow?
Will you still love me tomorrow?
30 March, 2009
An important conversation (and many important questions)
I think this is an amazing interview, an interview that moves into a rather profound discussion of science as art. I would always argue that science is art: it is a creative medium for expressing some notion of truth. I also think most people do not see things that way. Troy James Sobotka apparently does...
Does Creativity Stem from the "Challenge"?
Does Creativity Stem from the "Challenge"?
"Worn Me Down (LIVE)" - Rachael Yamagata
Gone - she’s gone.
How do you feel about it?
That’s what I thought.
You’re real DONE UP about it.
And I wish you the best
But I could do without it
And I will because you’ve worn me down
Oh, I will because you’ve worn me down
Worn me down like a road.
I did everything you told.
Worn me down to my knees.
I did everything to please.
But you can’t stop thinking about her.
No, you can’t stop thinking about her.
And you’re wrong. You’re wrong.
I’m not overreacting.
Something is off.
Why don’t we ever believe ourselves?
And I, oh I, I feel that word for you.
And I will because you’ve worn me down.
And I will because you have worn me down.
Worn me down like a road.
I did everything you told.
Worn me down to my knees.
I did everything to please.
But you can’t stop thinking about her.
No, you can’t stop thinking about her.
She’s so pretty.
She’s so damn right.
But I’m so tired of thinking about her, again, tonight.
Worn me down like a road.
I did everything you told.
Worn me down to my knees.
I did everything to please you.
Worn me down like a road.
I did everything you told me to do.
But you, you can’t stop thinking about her.
No, you can’t stop thinking about her.
No, you can’t stop thinking about her.
No, you can’t stop thinking of her.
26 March, 2009
"Wish You Were Here (LIVE)" - Pink Floyd
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange
A walk on part in the war,
For a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
25 March, 2009
22 March, 2009
I bet Batman could have used this information...
This is a fascinating blog post from Carl Zimmer (contributing Discover magazine editor, author, and blogger at The Loom) about bat locomotion:
How To Be A Bat [Life In Motion]
There are seven incredible videos of bats doing their thing (flying, landing, walking), and an excellent post to back the visuals. One thing that struck me as supremely strange was this concept of putting bats on a treadmill in order to study the mechanics of their walking behaviors. I mean really, no human I know walks normally on a treadmill, and treadmills were designed by/for humans. Ick. There's something sick about that entire idea. Still, I think the subject is completely captivating, and I was spellbound by the videos.
How To Be A Bat [Life In Motion]
There are seven incredible videos of bats doing their thing (flying, landing, walking), and an excellent post to back the visuals. One thing that struck me as supremely strange was this concept of putting bats on a treadmill in order to study the mechanics of their walking behaviors. I mean really, no human I know walks normally on a treadmill, and treadmills were designed by/for humans. Ick. There's something sick about that entire idea. Still, I think the subject is completely captivating, and I was spellbound by the videos.
21 March, 2009
"Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa" - Vampire Weekend
Brilliant! Ezra Koenig's wild transformation into Robert Smith. Fantastic!
20 March, 2009
"Harbor Saints (LIVE)" by Michael Zapruder
I started reading about Michael Zapruder at this blog: Love Shack, Baby. There are some quality posts, and I urge my lovely readers to check 'em out.
As for Mr. Zapruder, listen and be lulled to sleep. Then, listen again (really listen) and stay up awake all night thinking.
"I Woke Up Today" - Port O'Brien
This is a fantastic, slightly disturbing, video. I love the color, I love the noise, I love the dance moves, I love the little girl, I love the shark (I love the fact that they tag every band member at the beginning of the video, like the video is some radical/sick children's television show). I love the fact that the song celebrates the small and remarkably huge victories of life.
Waking up is the first step to living.
Side note: Port O'Brien does a heart-rending cover of "Something In The Way." There is a place deep in my heart where Nirvana resides, and Port O'Brien wins bonus points for covering (with the perfect level of respect and ingenuity) an often overlooked song in their catalog.
Friday Afternoon Singer-Songwriter
"Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?" by She & Him was playing on my radio when I woke up this morning, and although Zooey Deschanel never fails to remind me of Elf (a movie that holds a special place in my heart), I was also reminded of something else that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Zooey's voice is not a Jazz voice a la Billie Holiday, it carries a little twang of folk and country that often undoes the softness in her vocals ("I Should Have Known Better" is one of the few tracks on the album Volume One that cultivates that softness, and even forces it to the forefront). Still, I was searching through my music this morning, trying (although that word really conveys a level of work that was not present in my wanderings) to find a voice that combines Holiday and Deschanel.
I found it in Madeleine Peyroux, who dropped a new album, Bare Bones, on the 10th. This is the first of Peyroux's albums that ignores Jazz standards, and just caters to her own songs. "Instead" starts the album with a realistic entreaty to think positively. It takes on that Jazz tradition of recognizing pain, but pushing for hope (one of my favorite characteristics of Jazz, even when it sounds hopeless). "Bare Bones" goes beyond Jazz standards however, channeling a little Randy Newman. With that realization, I begin to see where Zooey and Madeleine are so similar. They combine softness and strength (Billie Holiday-esque qualities, in my humble opinion) with clever sarcasm and self-deprecation (oh so very Randy Newman). It is all achieved through music that is consistently aurally pleasing and unobtrusive. So much so, in fact, that Zooey and Madeleine kind of sneak up on you, be it when you're in your favorite little coffee shop or just shuffling through your iPod. They are quality, but they are not fantastic, and it is precisely because of this that they both make amazing soundtracks for everyday life. This is not to say that they fail in any regard as singer-songwriters, but only that they capture something very realistic and encapsulate it in song. Their music is where you find comfort and home on a sunny Friday afternoon.
I found it in Madeleine Peyroux, who dropped a new album, Bare Bones, on the 10th. This is the first of Peyroux's albums that ignores Jazz standards, and just caters to her own songs. "Instead" starts the album with a realistic entreaty to think positively. It takes on that Jazz tradition of recognizing pain, but pushing for hope (one of my favorite characteristics of Jazz, even when it sounds hopeless). "Bare Bones" goes beyond Jazz standards however, channeling a little Randy Newman. With that realization, I begin to see where Zooey and Madeleine are so similar. They combine softness and strength (Billie Holiday-esque qualities, in my humble opinion) with clever sarcasm and self-deprecation (oh so very Randy Newman). It is all achieved through music that is consistently aurally pleasing and unobtrusive. So much so, in fact, that Zooey and Madeleine kind of sneak up on you, be it when you're in your favorite little coffee shop or just shuffling through your iPod. They are quality, but they are not fantastic, and it is precisely because of this that they both make amazing soundtracks for everyday life. This is not to say that they fail in any regard as singer-songwriters, but only that they capture something very realistic and encapsulate it in song. Their music is where you find comfort and home on a sunny Friday afternoon.
19 March, 2009
This was just asking to be re-posted!
Alternative Energy Revolution (from XKCD)
(To be perfectly honest, the Nuke plants creep me out much more than the turbines, but I still think the Europeans have the right idea with their vertical blades. Check out these designs: Beautiful Wind Turbines. Number 4 is my favorite!)
(To be perfectly honest, the Nuke plants creep me out much more than the turbines, but I still think the Europeans have the right idea with their vertical blades. Check out these designs: Beautiful Wind Turbines. Number 4 is my favorite!)
18 March, 2009
"Tunnelvision" - Here We Go Magic
Here We Go Magic is the new Luke Temple project. It is a kaleidoscopic trip into the musical margins. The self-titled album is available on iTunes. I love the whole album, but I especially love the songs "Only Pieces" and "Ahab." "Only Pieces" is a rhythmic musical orgy placed in the circular scheme of a repeated lyric (Temple's delivery reminds me of Paul Simon). "Ahab" grooves like the captain never could, with a mellow, whispered delivery.
A Twitter inspired shout out
I tweet. I do. I chronicle my life (not in minute detail, but with a few details nonetheless). Still, until very recently, it was a private affair shared with only a few key individuals.
As of late, I have been receiving a lot of "follow" requests. I think this probably stems from the fact that I began "following" Rachel Maddow and Sasha Frere-Jones, and some Twitterites assumed that I would be an interesting person to follow due to my choice of company. They assumed incorrectly, and I saved them the pain of reading my banal updates by denying their requests.
My curiosity got the best of me, however, when it came to one Twitter request from a Sam Jacobs (a.k.a. The Flying Change). I jumped down the rabbit hole, following the link from his Twitter account to his website. Lo and behold: music!
I'll allow Sam to speak for himself (words from the website's Bio page):
The Flying Change is the songwriting and performance vehicle driven by New York-based artist and technologist Sam Jacobs. Sam used to write and record under the name Lipstik but people found the name distracting and he didn’t care enough not to change it. As Lipstik, Jacobs released one full length titled ‘Everything Is Good’ in 2006, one EP titled ‘There Is Only One Thing’ in Winter 2008 and numerous demos, covers, and experiments through his monthly email list (which remains, thankfully, intact).
When you’re riding a horse, there are two types of lead changes, whereby the horse moving in a canter or gallop, changes leads. The first is the simple change. The second and more difficult maneuver is the flying change. You can, or should be able to, see how this could be a metaphor for life and living.
Most importantly, the title comes from the Pulitzer-prize winning book of poems titled ‘The Flying Change’ written by Henry Taylor. Henry went to school with Sam’s father...
You can listen to the Lipstik LP and EP on the Flying Change website under the Discography section, and you can buy these albums from the same place or through the iTunes music store. You can also listen to the new album, Pain Is A Reliable Signal, with the website music player. The music is well-crafted, fun, and reminds me of some beautiful State Radio/Jack Johnson/Jack's Mannequin hybrid. My favorite song, so far, is "Don't Look Away," a little tune that starts off sounding a bit melancholy, but fleshes out that feeling with horn-work and tech-noises. I am so glad that Sam Jacobs tried to friend me on Twitter, and succeeded in adding a wonderful layer to my Spring 2009 soundtrack.
As of late, I have been receiving a lot of "follow" requests. I think this probably stems from the fact that I began "following" Rachel Maddow and Sasha Frere-Jones, and some Twitterites assumed that I would be an interesting person to follow due to my choice of company. They assumed incorrectly, and I saved them the pain of reading my banal updates by denying their requests.
My curiosity got the best of me, however, when it came to one Twitter request from a Sam Jacobs (a.k.a. The Flying Change). I jumped down the rabbit hole, following the link from his Twitter account to his website. Lo and behold: music!
I'll allow Sam to speak for himself (words from the website's Bio page):
The Flying Change is the songwriting and performance vehicle driven by New York-based artist and technologist Sam Jacobs. Sam used to write and record under the name Lipstik but people found the name distracting and he didn’t care enough not to change it. As Lipstik, Jacobs released one full length titled ‘Everything Is Good’ in 2006, one EP titled ‘There Is Only One Thing’ in Winter 2008 and numerous demos, covers, and experiments through his monthly email list (which remains, thankfully, intact).
When you’re riding a horse, there are two types of lead changes, whereby the horse moving in a canter or gallop, changes leads. The first is the simple change. The second and more difficult maneuver is the flying change. You can, or should be able to, see how this could be a metaphor for life and living.
Most importantly, the title comes from the Pulitzer-prize winning book of poems titled ‘The Flying Change’ written by Henry Taylor. Henry went to school with Sam’s father...
You can listen to the Lipstik LP and EP on the Flying Change website under the Discography section, and you can buy these albums from the same place or through the iTunes music store. You can also listen to the new album, Pain Is A Reliable Signal, with the website music player. The music is well-crafted, fun, and reminds me of some beautiful State Radio/Jack Johnson/Jack's Mannequin hybrid. My favorite song, so far, is "Don't Look Away," a little tune that starts off sounding a bit melancholy, but fleshes out that feeling with horn-work and tech-noises. I am so glad that Sam Jacobs tried to friend me on Twitter, and succeeded in adding a wonderful layer to my Spring 2009 soundtrack.
17 March, 2009
SXSW Buzz Punk: the Thermals
The B-52's meets the Hold Steady meets the moody weather of Portland, Oregon (plus one hot, rocking female bassist)?
The Thermals.
They are playing eight shows at SXSW, and then heading out to tour behind their fourth release Now We Can See, which will drop in early April. They will even be in my area...WOOT. It's probably time to bring out the Chuck Taylor's and get ready for a mosh-pit party.
Pillar of Salt
The Thermals.
They are playing eight shows at SXSW, and then heading out to tour behind their fourth release Now We Can See, which will drop in early April. They will even be in my area...WOOT. It's probably time to bring out the Chuck Taylor's and get ready for a mosh-pit party.
Pillar of Salt
Exile in Guyville LIVE
I listened to Liz Phair's Exile in Guyville live recording through NPR's All Songs Considered recording podcasts yesterday, and I was blown away. I love this album ("Fuck and Run" is at about 30 minutes into the podcast, in case you just want to listen to one song). This is a truly amazing recording. This is not to say that Liz Phair is an exceptional musician: she isn't. The music isn't amazing, the recordings are rough and raw, and what is really amazing is how visceral all of the music sounds live. The lyrics are hard-hitting on the original record, and in the context of fifteen years of lived experience they are even more potent.
Exile in Guyville Live on NPR
Reading through the lyrics to "Fuck and Run," I have realized that there is a strong feminist quality to these lyrics that is alarmingly understated in reviews. Yes, people always point out the sexually explicit and empowering lyrics, but there are layers to this song-crafting that must be explored further. In "Fuck and Run" you find regret, remorse, doubt, vulnerability, anger, cynicism, irony, sarcasm, and real, sweet longing. A precursor to Jagged Little Pill, Exile in Guyville succeeds in channeling multifaceted characteristics of womanhood and the female experience. Phair's strength lies in her ability to acknowledge her weaknesses, and this is fully present on Exile in Guyville.
I woke up alarmed
I didn't know where I was at first
Just that I woke up in your arms
And almost immediately I felt sorry
Cause I didn't think this would happen again
No matter what I could do or say
Just that I didn't think this would happen again
With or without my best intentions
And whatever happened to a boyfriend
The kind of guy that tries to win you over?
And whatever happened to a boyfriend
The kind of guy who makes love cause he's in it?
And I want a boyfriend
I want a boyfriend
I want all that stupid old shit like letters and sodas
Letters and sodas
You got up out of bed
You said you had a lot of work to do
But I heard the rest in my head
And almost immediately I felt sorry
Cause I didn't think this would happen again
No matter what I could do or say
Just that I didn't think this would happen again
With or without my best intentions
And I want a boyfriend
I want a boyfriend
I want all that stupid old shit like letters and sodas
Letters and sodas
And I can feel it in my bones
I'm gonna spend another year alone
It's fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was seventeen
Fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was twelve
You almost felt bad
You said that I should call you up
But I knew much better than that
And almost immediately I felt sorry
Cause I didn't think this would happen again
No matter what I could do or say
Just that I didn't think this would happen again
With or without my best intentions
And I can feel it in my bones
I'm gonna spend my whole life alone
It's fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was seventeen
Fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was twelve
Exile in Guyville Live on NPR
Reading through the lyrics to "Fuck and Run," I have realized that there is a strong feminist quality to these lyrics that is alarmingly understated in reviews. Yes, people always point out the sexually explicit and empowering lyrics, but there are layers to this song-crafting that must be explored further. In "Fuck and Run" you find regret, remorse, doubt, vulnerability, anger, cynicism, irony, sarcasm, and real, sweet longing. A precursor to Jagged Little Pill, Exile in Guyville succeeds in channeling multifaceted characteristics of womanhood and the female experience. Phair's strength lies in her ability to acknowledge her weaknesses, and this is fully present on Exile in Guyville.
I woke up alarmed
I didn't know where I was at first
Just that I woke up in your arms
And almost immediately I felt sorry
Cause I didn't think this would happen again
No matter what I could do or say
Just that I didn't think this would happen again
With or without my best intentions
And whatever happened to a boyfriend
The kind of guy that tries to win you over?
And whatever happened to a boyfriend
The kind of guy who makes love cause he's in it?
And I want a boyfriend
I want a boyfriend
I want all that stupid old shit like letters and sodas
Letters and sodas
You got up out of bed
You said you had a lot of work to do
But I heard the rest in my head
And almost immediately I felt sorry
Cause I didn't think this would happen again
No matter what I could do or say
Just that I didn't think this would happen again
With or without my best intentions
And I want a boyfriend
I want a boyfriend
I want all that stupid old shit like letters and sodas
Letters and sodas
And I can feel it in my bones
I'm gonna spend another year alone
It's fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was seventeen
Fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was twelve
You almost felt bad
You said that I should call you up
But I knew much better than that
And almost immediately I felt sorry
Cause I didn't think this would happen again
No matter what I could do or say
Just that I didn't think this would happen again
With or without my best intentions
And I can feel it in my bones
I'm gonna spend my whole life alone
It's fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was seventeen
Fuck and run, fuck and run
Even when I was twelve
"I'm Shipping Up to Boston" - Dropkick Murphy's
I wanted to add an Irish proverb for good measure, but I really could not decided which one to include. I have grown up hearing most of these in some context:
A diplomat must always think twice before he says nothing.
A dog owns nothing, yet is seldom dissatisfied.
A hair on the head is worth two on the brush.
A kind word never broke anyone's mouth.
A lie travels farther than the truth.
A light heart lives long.
A silent mouth is sweet to hear.
A turkey never voted for an early Christmas.
Better be quarreling than lonesome.
Bricks and mortar make a house, but the laughter of children makes a home.
Don't break your shin on a stool that is not in your way.
Even the longest day has its end.
Give away all you like, but keep your bills and your temper.
Good luck beats early rising.
If you dig a grave for others, you might fall into it yourself.
If you get a reputation as an early riser, you can sleep till noon.
It's no use carrying an umbrella if your shoes are leaking.
Praise youth and it will prosper.
16 March, 2009
"Mesmerizing" - Liz Phair
Exile in Guyville is a masterpiece, and this one of the best songs on the album. Don't watch the video, just listen to the song.
You said things I wouldn't say
Straight to my face, boy
You tossed the egg up
And I found my hands in place, boy
After backing up as far as you could get
Don't you know nobody parts two rivers met?
Don't you know I'm very happy?
You know me well
I'm even happier
I like it
I like it
With all of the time in the world to spend it
Wild and unwise, I wanna be mesmerizing too
Mesmerizing too
Mesmerizing to you
With all of the time in the world to spend it
Wild and unwise, I wanna be mesmerizing too
Mesmerizing too
Mesmerizing to you
You said things I wouldn't say
Straight to my face, boy
You tossed the egg up
And I found my hands in place, boy
After backing up as far as you could get
Don't you know nobody parts two rivers met?
Don't you know I'm very happy?
You know me well
I'm even happier
I like it
I like it
With all of the time in the world to spend it
Wild and unwise, I wanna be mesmerizing too
Mesmerizing too
Mesmerizing to you
With all of the time in the world to spend it
Wild and unwise, I wanna be mesmerizing too
Mesmerizing too
Mesmerizing to you
Jenny Holzer's Projections
Jenny Holzer has an exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art in NYC. I love her Projections series of light/language "sculptures" that were broadcast 43 separate times on buildings in cities around the world from 1996 - 2007. These will not be included in her exhibition at the Whitney. Instead, you can now find a series of paintings by Holzer entitled Redactions, where she silkscreens text from declassified government documents onto canvases. There will also be a section dedicated to her LED work. She takes aesthetics into account when designing the color and shape of her LED signs, and has also programmed declassified government documents into this work. All of this is so very powerful and poignant, and it makes me wish I lived in New York. Above all, however, I still love her Projections.
Whitney Exhibition Description
Website for Projections
These are some of Holzer's Projections from Florence, Italy in 1996:
Whitney Exhibition Description
Website for Projections
These are some of Holzer's Projections from Florence, Italy in 1996:
15 March, 2009
Zen Garden Rock
I do not usually enjoy music that is purely psychedelic, relying on sitar and theremin, and meaningless poetics to accomplish a semblance of substance. Harsh? Maybe, but I have had too much experience with bands (and people) who hide their inanity and flakiness behind a facade of spiritual depth.
This obvious generalization does not hold true for Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound who come charged and fully rocking from San Francisco, California, and psychedelic in the most wonderful way. Their epic rock songs remain grounded in the art of the blues, but loosely grounded and ready to levitate. Root-rumbling bass flows underfoot like an epiphonic stream, and taps into the delicious, growling guitar. The percussion adds flashes of light to the landscape, every drumbeat an exclamation point, a thunder clap following the stream.
In 2007 Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound released their second album on Tee Pee records. It is entitled Ekranoplan (in case you are wondering what an Ekranoplan is, it is a Ground Effect Vehicle which falls somewhere between an airplane and a hovercraft on the flight vehicle spectrum) and it certainly has its valleys and peaks. The title track tries to accomplish too much in my opinion. It becomes an aural tornado when it would have succeeded as a tamer storm. The third track, "Rudy on The Corner," is melodic and moody, and the odd vocal effects (fuzziness and tunnel sound combined) achieve a certain level of eccentricity without alienating the listener. "Occult Roots" hits the Blue Oyster Cult button directly on the head, while smoldering and simmering like the creepiest Black Sabbath songs. My personal favorite track from the entire album is "D Brown." I feel as if Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound is creating a landscape with this song. It reminds me of the building of Narnia in The Magician's Nephew (although I am almost certain that this soundtrack is better). Every section of the song adds a new element to the landscape, and the Earth starts humming along, always growing, moving, changing. The thing about Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound is that they groove and jam, but they rarely become bland. I am impressed.
Side note: I wish I had a little artistic talent so that I could design concert posters for a living. I think they are amazing and beautiful.
This obvious generalization does not hold true for Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound who come charged and fully rocking from San Francisco, California, and psychedelic in the most wonderful way. Their epic rock songs remain grounded in the art of the blues, but loosely grounded and ready to levitate. Root-rumbling bass flows underfoot like an epiphonic stream, and taps into the delicious, growling guitar. The percussion adds flashes of light to the landscape, every drumbeat an exclamation point, a thunder clap following the stream.
In 2007 Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound released their second album on Tee Pee records. It is entitled Ekranoplan (in case you are wondering what an Ekranoplan is, it is a Ground Effect Vehicle which falls somewhere between an airplane and a hovercraft on the flight vehicle spectrum) and it certainly has its valleys and peaks. The title track tries to accomplish too much in my opinion. It becomes an aural tornado when it would have succeeded as a tamer storm. The third track, "Rudy on The Corner," is melodic and moody, and the odd vocal effects (fuzziness and tunnel sound combined) achieve a certain level of eccentricity without alienating the listener. "Occult Roots" hits the Blue Oyster Cult button directly on the head, while smoldering and simmering like the creepiest Black Sabbath songs. My personal favorite track from the entire album is "D Brown." I feel as if Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound is creating a landscape with this song. It reminds me of the building of Narnia in The Magician's Nephew (although I am almost certain that this soundtrack is better). Every section of the song adds a new element to the landscape, and the Earth starts humming along, always growing, moving, changing. The thing about Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound is that they groove and jam, but they rarely become bland. I am impressed.
Side note: I wish I had a little artistic talent so that I could design concert posters for a living. I think they are amazing and beautiful.
13 March, 2009
12 March, 2009
09 March, 2009
08 March, 2009
Live Music Archive....!!!!
Hey all you lovely readers! The sun is shining in my part of the world, and I thought I would take this moment to share a little link that was passed on to me by my blogging buddy Sean:
The Live Music Archive is a wonderful source for amazing (and free) recordings of concerts by your favorite artists.
Here is a little preview of the bands whose shows can be found on the site:
Jason Mraz
Kimya Dawson
Tegan and Sara
Cowboy Junkies
Against Me!
Andrew Bird
Apollo Sunshine
Beirut
Ben Kweller
Billy Bragg
Blind Melon
...if I kept writing the bands like this, then I could really type all day long.
Here's a show performed by Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra in 2003:
Track List
Intro
My Lady Frustration
Talk-a-Tif
Pay Back Africa
Big Man
Sister
Excuse-o / Who No Know Go Know
Untitled (Vic In Ethiopia)
MTTT (Mother Tucker Tick Tock)
Government Magic > Indictment
Music How We Sit
The Live Music Archive is a wonderful source for amazing (and free) recordings of concerts by your favorite artists.
Here is a little preview of the bands whose shows can be found on the site:
Jason Mraz
Kimya Dawson
Tegan and Sara
Cowboy Junkies
Against Me!
Andrew Bird
Apollo Sunshine
Beirut
Ben Kweller
Billy Bragg
Blind Melon
...if I kept writing the bands like this, then I could really type all day long.
Here's a show performed by Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra in 2003:
Track List
Intro
My Lady Frustration
Talk-a-Tif
Pay Back Africa
Big Man
Sister
Excuse-o / Who No Know Go Know
Untitled (Vic In Ethiopia)
MTTT (Mother Tucker Tick Tock)
Government Magic > Indictment
Music How We Sit
07 March, 2009
Discordant Dance Music
The album Who is this America? came up on my shuffle this morning, and I found myself wondering if I had ever written about Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra, or if I have always just savored their music through my headphones. When you are living with tons of other people, you really do have to choose your moments for playing rambunctious and often discordant music. Especially when said music exists on a plane where resonant horn phrases and a decidedly political message are a necessity.
I wanted to share the song "Big Man" with my lovely readers, because it is the first song that I ever heard by Antibalas. Back in 2004, I was cruising in my parents' van, listening to WERS (this is more of an accomplishment than you know! In order to listen to WERS in that van, I had to alternate between stations to maintain a strong signal. At the same time, I was always trying to listen to the music. This is a difficult balancing act because your mind is occupied both with listening for the first hints of static and to the song that is currently playing.) Some goofy college student came on the radio and introduced "Antibalas...it means Anti-bullets. I can dig that!" The introduction didn't detract from the song, which is an neo-Afrobeat dance tune with an amazing underlying rhythm, and horn-work that made my heart sing. The lyrics are anti-Capitalist, but in a way that maintains a sense of personal responsibility, a quality I think is too often lost when political statements are turned into music. Unfortunately, a top-quality recording of "Big Man" is not available through YouTube, but I am going to share this with you anyway (I like the introduction):
I wanted to share the song "Big Man" with my lovely readers, because it is the first song that I ever heard by Antibalas. Back in 2004, I was cruising in my parents' van, listening to WERS (this is more of an accomplishment than you know! In order to listen to WERS in that van, I had to alternate between stations to maintain a strong signal. At the same time, I was always trying to listen to the music. This is a difficult balancing act because your mind is occupied both with listening for the first hints of static and to the song that is currently playing.) Some goofy college student came on the radio and introduced "Antibalas...it means Anti-bullets. I can dig that!" The introduction didn't detract from the song, which is an neo-Afrobeat dance tune with an amazing underlying rhythm, and horn-work that made my heart sing. The lyrics are anti-Capitalist, but in a way that maintains a sense of personal responsibility, a quality I think is too often lost when political statements are turned into music. Unfortunately, a top-quality recording of "Big Man" is not available through YouTube, but I am going to share this with you anyway (I like the introduction):
06 March, 2009
"Daydreamin' (Live)" - Lupe Fiasco & Jill Scott
Spring is right around the corner, and I am now daydreaming about daydreaming beneath the flowers...on a beautiful day.
04 March, 2009
"Something to Do With My Hands" - Her Space Holiday
Just listen...
You know it kills me to see such a pretty girl so tired
You've got your mother's cheekbones and your father's crooked smile
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in
Let your body sink into me
Like your favorite memory
Like a line of poetry
Or a fucking fit of honesty
I'll do my best to keep you, keep you sleepy as the south
With my old watch on your wrist
And my thumbs inside your mouth
Suck on my fingertips until you kill all my prints
So your boyfriend has no clue
Of how much I've been touching you
My problem with me is my problem with you
It doesn't take much
For me to come unglued
I put my headphones on
And hear your favorite songs
And it kills me to know
That this won't be one of them
You know it saves me to think even for a little while
I owned the set of shoulders that you came to rely on
Like in that movie theater when you whispered in my ear
I almost didn't make it
This has been my hardest year
Your job is killing you faster than a cancer could
So now you're giving up like they always said you would
You've got that old map out now and you found the farthest town
You hope that if you're lucky this is where you'll settle down
I don't care where you move I don't care if it's far
All that I ask is that I know where you are
In case our timing is right
In case you need more from me
Than a bit of advice
Or a tongue full of sympathy
You know it kills me to see such a pretty girl so tired
You've got your mother's cheekbones and your father's crooked smile
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in
Let your body sink into me
Like your favorite memory
Like a line of poetry
Or a fucking fit of honesty
I'll do my best to keep you, keep you sleepy as the south
With my old watch on your wrist
And my thumbs inside your mouth
Suck on my fingertips until you kill all my prints
So my girlfriend has no clue
Of how much I've been touching you
You know it kills me to see such a pretty girl so tired
You've got your mother's cheekbones and your father's crooked smile
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in
Let your body sink into me
Like your favorite memory
Like a line of poetry
Or a fucking fit of honesty
I'll do my best to keep you, keep you sleepy as the south
With my old watch on your wrist
And my thumbs inside your mouth
Suck on my fingertips until you kill all my prints
So your boyfriend has no clue
Of how much I've been touching you
My problem with me is my problem with you
It doesn't take much
For me to come unglued
I put my headphones on
And hear your favorite songs
And it kills me to know
That this won't be one of them
You know it saves me to think even for a little while
I owned the set of shoulders that you came to rely on
Like in that movie theater when you whispered in my ear
I almost didn't make it
This has been my hardest year
Your job is killing you faster than a cancer could
So now you're giving up like they always said you would
You've got that old map out now and you found the farthest town
You hope that if you're lucky this is where you'll settle down
I don't care where you move I don't care if it's far
All that I ask is that I know where you are
In case our timing is right
In case you need more from me
Than a bit of advice
Or a tongue full of sympathy
You know it kills me to see such a pretty girl so tired
You've got your mother's cheekbones and your father's crooked smile
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in
Let your body sink into me
Like your favorite memory
Like a line of poetry
Or a fucking fit of honesty
I'll do my best to keep you, keep you sleepy as the south
With my old watch on your wrist
And my thumbs inside your mouth
Suck on my fingertips until you kill all my prints
So my girlfriend has no clue
Of how much I've been touching you
02 March, 2009
"I Just Dropped In To See What Condition My Condition Was In" - Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings
I know I have posted this video in the past, but it certainly warrants a double-posting. Oh Sharon Jones, you make my heart sing.
28 February, 2009
"Cross Your Fingers/Crawled Out of the Sea" - Laura Marling
Marling is exactly fifteen days my elder. You can listen to her entire album, Alas, I Cannot Swim, by clicking on the SongBox application on her website. Believe me, it is worth your time.
27 February, 2009
"Time to Pretend (LIVE)" - MGMT
I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw, I'm in the prime of my life
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives
I'll move to Paris, shoot some heroin and fuck with the stars
You man the island and the cocaine and the elegant cars
This is our decision to live fast and die young
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun!
Yeah it's overwhelming, but what else can we do?
Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?
Forget about our mothers and our friends
We were fated to pretend
I'll miss the playgrounds and the animals and digging up worms
I'll miss the comfort of my mother and the weight of the world
I'll miss my sister, miss my father, miss my dog and my home
Yeah, I'll miss the boredom and the freedom and the time spent alone
But there is really nothing, nothing we can do
Love must be forgotten, life can always start up anew
The models will have children, we'll get a divorce
We'll find some more models, everything must run its course
We'll choke on our vomit and that will be the end
We were fated to pretend
Yeah, yeah, yeah
26 February, 2009
The 17 Best Romantic Comedies of the Last Decade (according to Paste magazine)
I think seventeen is a bit of an arbitrary number. However, I cannot help my personal infatuation with romantic comedies, and I cannot help feeling a little disappointed that I have only watched six of the seventeen on Paste's only slightly pretentious list.
Now, I do have my qualms with this list. One thing that I find disappointing is the lack of John Cusack movies (there's only one on the list). If I were writing this post I would break my own rules and extend the time period to encompass Grosse Pointe Blank, which is essentially my all-time favorite romantic comedy. Still, I am more than a little enamored with the idea of so many romantic comedies as yet unappreciated. My goal is to watch the other eleven movies this year. That seems feasible, doesn't it? It isn't like I really have to do anything.
24 February, 2009
Mise en abyme
I have been struggling for words to describe Beirut's newly released song "My Night With the Prostitute from Marseille", from the double EP March of the Zapotec & Realpeople - Holland, and for a few days now I have been stumped. There is this overwhelming sensation that first slips into my periphery while I am listening. It is like the shadows of tree-limbs on the falling snow. The song grows and stretches and I realize that this feeling is not retreating, it encompasses my eardrums and slides into the pit of my stomach. It is almost like a sickness: I feel a little washed out, a little unreal. I feel like I have just stepped into someone else's daydream. I am encapsulated in a perfect snowflake. This is the "dream within a dream," the mise en abyme.
I am not claiming by any stretch of the imagination that this song is perfect, but only that it is the perfect soundtrack to this frozen moment in my own life. "My Night With the Prostitute from Marseille" carries all of the airy melancholy that is evident in the best scenes of Sofia Coppolla's Marie Antoinette without the sheen and the glitter. It is carnivalesque, but far from multi-colored, far from bright. It feels to me as if the song had been recorded within a vacuum, which is often a description applied to challenge the merit of a musical piece. In this instance, I use vacuum as a positive signifier. Often I listen to songs and feel as if something is missing, but I have no certain method for understanding and apprehending that "something." In this song everything is missing. There is no natural noise behind the recording. At the same time, I feel like this is completely natural, like maybe nothing was there that could be missing.
I could compare the instrumentals and lyric work to New Order or the Magnetic Fields (or even Sufjan), but I think it is pointless to compare. There is intangibility woven into the fabric of the song, and I am completely fascinated with my own fascination.
My Night with the Prostitute from Marseille by Beirut
I am not claiming by any stretch of the imagination that this song is perfect, but only that it is the perfect soundtrack to this frozen moment in my own life. "My Night With the Prostitute from Marseille" carries all of the airy melancholy that is evident in the best scenes of Sofia Coppolla's Marie Antoinette without the sheen and the glitter. It is carnivalesque, but far from multi-colored, far from bright. It feels to me as if the song had been recorded within a vacuum, which is often a description applied to challenge the merit of a musical piece. In this instance, I use vacuum as a positive signifier. Often I listen to songs and feel as if something is missing, but I have no certain method for understanding and apprehending that "something." In this song everything is missing. There is no natural noise behind the recording. At the same time, I feel like this is completely natural, like maybe nothing was there that could be missing.
I could compare the instrumentals and lyric work to New Order or the Magnetic Fields (or even Sufjan), but I think it is pointless to compare. There is intangibility woven into the fabric of the song, and I am completely fascinated with my own fascination.
My Night with the Prostitute from Marseille by Beirut
"Straight to Hell" - Lily Allen (featuring Mick Jones)
This is my favorite Clash song (at the moment). This is also one of those videos that should be minimized while the song is playing. The graphic adds absolutely nothing to the experience.
23 February, 2009
The World's Smallest Puzzles
Indium Rose
I think someone should write popular songs about science, and however much I love Schoolhouse Rock, these new science songs should break from that mold. Didacticism is hot, but autodidacticism is fucking enthralling. These pictures could be the muse for that struggling scientist/musician looking for inspiration.
I think someone should write popular songs about science, and however much I love Schoolhouse Rock, these new science songs should break from that mold. Didacticism is hot, but autodidacticism is fucking enthralling. These pictures could be the muse for that struggling scientist/musician looking for inspiration.
"Singing to the Earth (To Thank Her For You)" - Apollo Sunshine
Apollo Sunshine 'Singing to The Earth' from Jagger McDaniels on Vimeo.
I love this song. As a side note, this is my 500th post. It is beyond strange to think that I have been blogging for almost four years.
22 February, 2009
Barack and Blanchot
I have recently been in a kind of contemplative collecting mood where I unconsciously amass bundles of words and ideas from the corners of my life. It isn't the most productive mood, and last night I even described it as apathetic, but I think it is actually almost the opposite of apathy. I feel like I am pulling together thoughts, pictures, words, and sounds and storing them away for a later date. It is almost like a plant storing the nutrients required to produce a flower. It is only the promise of something worthwhile at the end that is preventing me from being completely discouraged with myself at the moment. To paraphrase Maurice Blanchot in The Writing of the Disaster, passion and patience are in some senses singular: two halves of the same coin. As my patience fails to wear thin, my passion grows exponentially, and I hope that some type of productivity grows alongside my passion (with time for me to write my final papers).
Here are a couple of things which have caught my interest and attention in the past few days.
The Writing of the Disaster by Maurice Blanchot is a book compiled of paragraphs of insight. The book is disjointed in its presentation, but I think this constant rearranging and patch-working of ideas tends to open space for the reader to engage the material. There are logical pauses and spaces for contemplation, and often these pauses are followed by a striking and profound thought which forces you to pause again. The design of this book is very intelligent. Here is one of my favorite quotations from the first fifty pages:
If the dilemma is to go mad or to die, then the answer will not lack and madness will be mortal.
Earlier in the book there are a pair of ideas that fall on opposing pages. They are particularly interesting because they are working within this theme of transference through language which is so central to the book, and they discuss the capacity and incapacity of language to act as an extension of experience between people. I personally find this fascinating, and I think these quotes are really remarkable.
Reading is anguish, and this is because any text, however important, or amusing, or interesting it may be (and the more engaging it seems to be), is empty - at bottom it doesn't exist; you have to cross an abyss, and if you do not jump, you do not comprehend.
To want to write: what an absurdity. Writing is the decay of the will, just as it is the loss of power, and the fall of the regular fall of the beat, the disaster again.
You can see that there is a real cadence to this language. It is very percussive and musical, and it resonates through my head as I read (and reread) the passages.
On a different note entirely, I found this article about the use of hip-hop music by the Democratic Party during Obama's campaign. Appropriation and exploitation are terms that should be contemplated when dealing with any political movement, but I find this article poorly written and poorly organized in its critique of the campaign's utilization of music when attempting to attract young voters. What I do find interesting is Obama's take on the whole genre:
Here are a couple of things which have caught my interest and attention in the past few days.
The Writing of the Disaster by Maurice Blanchot is a book compiled of paragraphs of insight. The book is disjointed in its presentation, but I think this constant rearranging and patch-working of ideas tends to open space for the reader to engage the material. There are logical pauses and spaces for contemplation, and often these pauses are followed by a striking and profound thought which forces you to pause again. The design of this book is very intelligent. Here is one of my favorite quotations from the first fifty pages:
If the dilemma is to go mad or to die, then the answer will not lack and madness will be mortal.
Earlier in the book there are a pair of ideas that fall on opposing pages. They are particularly interesting because they are working within this theme of transference through language which is so central to the book, and they discuss the capacity and incapacity of language to act as an extension of experience between people. I personally find this fascinating, and I think these quotes are really remarkable.
Reading is anguish, and this is because any text, however important, or amusing, or interesting it may be (and the more engaging it seems to be), is empty - at bottom it doesn't exist; you have to cross an abyss, and if you do not jump, you do not comprehend.
To want to write: what an absurdity. Writing is the decay of the will, just as it is the loss of power, and the fall of the regular fall of the beat, the disaster again.
You can see that there is a real cadence to this language. It is very percussive and musical, and it resonates through my head as I read (and reread) the passages.
On a different note entirely, I found this article about the use of hip-hop music by the Democratic Party during Obama's campaign. Appropriation and exploitation are terms that should be contemplated when dealing with any political movement, but I find this article poorly written and poorly organized in its critique of the campaign's utilization of music when attempting to attract young voters. What I do find interesting is Obama's take on the whole genre:
20 February, 2009
17 February, 2009
Visual Stimulation (a.k.a. Why I Use YouTube)
If you go to my Valentine's Day post, and read the attached comment, then I think you will understand the impetus for this post. I want to focus in on the question "are visuals just spectacle?" for a couple of reasons. 1) I utilize visuals regularly in my blog; and 2) I think they are an important part of the aural experience, and one that is often overlooked when discussing music. As a side note, I am a little blown away by the fact that one of my friends so readily tapped into the collective unconscious yesterday by asking the excellent question: what do you see when you listen to music? He got me thinking again about the close connections of the senses and the roles which visuals do play in the musical experiences of the individual.
I use YouTube for a number of reasons. The most practical reason is that I do not have a lot of money at my disposal and I choose to refrain from downloading illegally. YouTube then, is often my musical sharing tool of choice. I spend a great deal of time choosing videos that are of high quality and that are also visually stimulating in some new and interesting way. Performance and music videos fascinate me, and I find them appealing as a sort of microscope into the minds of other people who are attempting to decipher or convey an aural experience in a new way. Strong words, melodies, or rhythms can enter your mind softly and situate themselves in comfortable positions until you choose to engage them on some type of conscious level. A good song falls within the standards of good poetry, but has layers of meaning that are conveyed instrumentally as well as lyrically. Adding a visual layer to a song can introduce a new level of meaning, which can be equally as subtle as the lyrics or the fleeting violins in the introduction, but are also penetrating and striking in a completely original way. Instrumentals, lyrics, and pictures combined in the best of possible ways, can create a three-dimensional experience. I already find music tactile and multidimensional, so adding a layer of visuals generally only enhances this quality, although it is true that those YouTube montage videos can severely detract from the enjoyability of a song.
What do I see when I listen to music? This question caught me off guard because generally I find myself caught up in the act of listening to a song, and I do not take the time to think as much about visual stimulation. I realized after a little thinking that I often see the lyrics imprinted upon my mind, as if I am reading a musical book. At the same time, my mind also strongly registers percussion and rhythm in kinds of visual waves, which contribute strongly to that sense of musical tactility that I mentioned before. I am entranced by repetition and rhythm schematics and at the same time caught by the underlying meaning of songs. The more I look at what constitutes the majority of my favorite music, the more I realize that I am attracted to a certain aural type. There is a reason why Jimi Hendrix's Axis: Bold As Love is my favorite album, and it has nothing to do with my current surroundings and everything to do with my inner workings.
I use YouTube for a number of reasons. The most practical reason is that I do not have a lot of money at my disposal and I choose to refrain from downloading illegally. YouTube then, is often my musical sharing tool of choice. I spend a great deal of time choosing videos that are of high quality and that are also visually stimulating in some new and interesting way. Performance and music videos fascinate me, and I find them appealing as a sort of microscope into the minds of other people who are attempting to decipher or convey an aural experience in a new way. Strong words, melodies, or rhythms can enter your mind softly and situate themselves in comfortable positions until you choose to engage them on some type of conscious level. A good song falls within the standards of good poetry, but has layers of meaning that are conveyed instrumentally as well as lyrically. Adding a visual layer to a song can introduce a new level of meaning, which can be equally as subtle as the lyrics or the fleeting violins in the introduction, but are also penetrating and striking in a completely original way. Instrumentals, lyrics, and pictures combined in the best of possible ways, can create a three-dimensional experience. I already find music tactile and multidimensional, so adding a layer of visuals generally only enhances this quality, although it is true that those YouTube montage videos can severely detract from the enjoyability of a song.
What do I see when I listen to music? This question caught me off guard because generally I find myself caught up in the act of listening to a song, and I do not take the time to think as much about visual stimulation. I realized after a little thinking that I often see the lyrics imprinted upon my mind, as if I am reading a musical book. At the same time, my mind also strongly registers percussion and rhythm in kinds of visual waves, which contribute strongly to that sense of musical tactility that I mentioned before. I am entranced by repetition and rhythm schematics and at the same time caught by the underlying meaning of songs. The more I look at what constitutes the majority of my favorite music, the more I realize that I am attracted to a certain aural type. There is a reason why Jimi Hendrix's Axis: Bold As Love is my favorite album, and it has nothing to do with my current surroundings and everything to do with my inner workings.
16 February, 2009
"Solace" - Dorothy Parker
There was a rose that faded young;
I saw its shattered beauty hung
Upon a broken stem.
I heard them say, "What need to care
With roses budding everywhere?"
I did not answer them.
There was a bird, brought down to die;
They said, "A hundred fill the sky-
What reason to be sad?"
There was a girl, whose lover fled;
I did not wait, the while they said,
"There's many another lad."
I saw its shattered beauty hung
Upon a broken stem.
I heard them say, "What need to care
With roses budding everywhere?"
I did not answer them.
There was a bird, brought down to die;
They said, "A hundred fill the sky-
What reason to be sad?"
There was a girl, whose lover fled;
I did not wait, the while they said,
"There's many another lad."
14 February, 2009
Happy V-Day from Otis Redding
Try A Little Tenderness (Live)
Last year I picked some less than amazing songs on Valentine's Day. This is the real shit, man.
<3
12 February, 2009
There are days when I think of all the reasons why I hate Boston...
and then I remember the Dresden Dolls. I was thirteen when I heard "Coin-Operated Boy" for the first time, and I honestly didn't understand all of the nuances of that song. I was a little naive, or maybe I was just thirteen. I did, however, understand the immensity of such a song being played on popular radio. A Boston band influenced by German cabaret was playing regularly alongside the formidable, but completely uninteresting Dropkick Murphy's (formidable and uninteresting, humorously enough, are often the same words I use to describe Boston itself. Throw "ugly" in for a little bit of flavor, and you can mimic me!) I loved "Coin-Operated Boy," but I was completely enthralled by "Girl Anachronism" with all of its beautifully twisted language and crashing melody. "This passion is a plagiarism" has to be one of the most honest lines I have heard in a song in a long time. Yes, Virginia was not a bad follow-up, especially with delightfully macabre songs "Sing" and "First Orgasm." Now, Amanda Palmer has released her own album, which is also macabre, delightful, twisted, and gory. I tend to think of it as some kind of Tim Burton confection fit to be played alongside Sleepy Hollow. "Astronaut" is the first single, and it is absolutely worth your time and energy.
Flexibility
When I used to drive my brother around regularly, I would subject him to all kinds of music. I tried not to make things unbearable for us both by playing anything too girly (Something Corporate, Sara Bareilles, and Regina Spektor were saved for solo drives). Often we would listen to Muse, Pink Floyd, Lupe Fiasco, and Amy Winehouse. During one period of time Radiohead's Pablo Honey was on indefinite repeat. I could not get enough, my brother, however, thought it was suicide music.
"You" is amazing, and neither of us had a bad word to say about that effervescent miracle of a song, but it only lasted us to the first set of traffic lights. "You" would give way to "Creep," and then the "blood is thicker than water" maxim would be tested. I had heard "Creep" so many times before that it wasn't really an issue to push the skip button, but at the same time I felt as if I was doing a musical disservice to my brother. It is a great song, and it flows so well with the rest of the album that it is almost sacrilegious to move directly from "You" to "How Do You?". What did I do? Well, it was my car so you can venture a guess.
The point of this story I suppose is that there are some songs that are inescapable. There are some songs that seem to follow you around. For me, "Creep" has been one of those songs, and I am completely fascinated by the fact that it never wears my ears thin. It is as if the universe knows that I am destined to listen to this song, so why not let me enjoy the thing.
Creep by Amanda Palmer
"You" is amazing, and neither of us had a bad word to say about that effervescent miracle of a song, but it only lasted us to the first set of traffic lights. "You" would give way to "Creep," and then the "blood is thicker than water" maxim would be tested. I had heard "Creep" so many times before that it wasn't really an issue to push the skip button, but at the same time I felt as if I was doing a musical disservice to my brother. It is a great song, and it flows so well with the rest of the album that it is almost sacrilegious to move directly from "You" to "How Do You?". What did I do? Well, it was my car so you can venture a guess.
The point of this story I suppose is that there are some songs that are inescapable. There are some songs that seem to follow you around. For me, "Creep" has been one of those songs, and I am completely fascinated by the fact that it never wears my ears thin. It is as if the universe knows that I am destined to listen to this song, so why not let me enjoy the thing.
Creep by Amanda Palmer
Walking On Sunshine - Katrina and the Waves
This is the most randomly awesome video that I have witnessed in a long time. It begs the question, why three boys in trench coats and Chuck Taylor Converse? I say, why not?
D-d-d-desolation Row
Desolation Row by My Chemical Romance
Desolation Row by the Grateful Dead
Desolation Row by Bob Dylan
11 February, 2009
And now for something competely different!
Hey all!
I know I've been out of commission for awhile, and I do apologize for this (deeply and from the bottom of my heart. Do hearts have bottoms? What does the bottom of a heart look like, and what's actually there?). Anyway, I am looking out my window right now and watching cars gallumph through the sad-looking trees along the road. They are dead of winter trees that are standing so still and silent in this little breath of Spring air (ah, Spring). The trees are the smart ones because they know that there is still no reason to celebrate the warmth, it is uncertain and will probably disappear before the weekend is upon us. I still haven't learned that Spring never comes when it says it will. What a tease!
With my own naivete in mind, I have decided to craft a mixed masterpiece of life in the most stagnant months of the year. With my birthday coming up, I am feeling a little depressed, taking stock and wondering what I have actually accomplished in an entire year. Last year at this time, I was in a similar place. In fact, every year at this time I am in this place. My mood at this moment is just about as uncertain as the weather, and I find myself tiring of my constant self-assessment. I have been consumed by my work during the last week, with my free time eaten away by new media. Is that shallow? It feels to me like I am hiding from something, and maybe like the groundhog, I don't really want to see my own shadow.
Shakespeare said that "the play is the thing." I love plays, but for me the mix is the thing, it is the only type of crafting which I excel at on a regular basis (Side note: You know those craft projects that come pre-packaged in the cute boxes? I cannot, for the life of me, put them together. I always end up fucking something up, usually by jumping ahead and realizing that I cannot go back. Such is life.)
So here is a mix for my faithful readers. It will hopefully be less schizophrenic than this post. Peace, love, and all that jazz.
"Meltdown" by Ash
With galvanizing power this song wails into existence born on a message of revolt. The drums and guitars centralize over the repeated line: "I think (I think) my head is gonna explode," a line that was unbelievably apropos in Shaun of the Dead. Right now this song is one of the few songs (besides Stravinsky and Led Zeppelin) that can keep me in the moment for longer than ten seconds. It is focused like a laser beam.
"Atomic" by Blondie
Time for a revelation from my musical past. I don't think anyone knows this little factoid. The boy who I "liked" in fifth grade had a penchant for Blondie (he also loved playing card games: 45's, War, etc.) At the time, the only knowledge I had of Blondie was the random Debbie Harry song on The Rugrats Movie soundtrack *cough* LAME *cough*. This song is pretty fucking amazing, with lyrics that could come off as desperate in many contexts, but instead sound amazingly smooth and shiny. It is the kind of song that would be played on a spaceship, but the type of spaceship that caters to strippers? I think it's amazing.
"Time is Tight" by Booker T. & the MG's
This is a funky intermission song. When I listen, I feel like I am at a 1970s drive-in movie theatre getting ready to watch the second half of a double-feature. The instrumentation is very tight and metronomic, and in this case these qualities are comforting and far from banal.
"Straight to Hell" by the Clash
This song is sampled in M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes," and I found this odd upon first listen, because this song is fairly odd for The Clash. For example, the lyrics are almost stream of consciousness, and whenever I hear the song I feel like Joe Strummer and Mick Jones were pulling a kind of Jackson Pollock with their song-writing. It seems like a cathartic, "let's throw shit at the wall" kind of song, and I really enjoy the surrealism of their polemics. It is refreshing lyrically, and the music is stimulating and layered. This is one of my favorite Clash songs.
"Don't Go Down" by Elliott Smith
A song of doomed love that sounds like a train wreck musically personified. I find the mess both stimulating and frightening. Smith has a way of using very few words to invoke a veritable relationship chasm. He opens the wound and you fill the space with your own pain. This can be a therapeutic type of digression, but it can also become emotive in the worst possible sense of the word. There are times when you just need to decide to be happy.
"I Will Survive" by Cake
This is one of those times. Cake makes me happy, especially when they cover Gloria Gaynor songs with aplomb and a wonderful portion of funk. John McCrea's has a monotone and ironic voice which adds a wonderful layer of sarcasm to a song that deserved a good dose. Behind the vocal work is the steady, pumping bass-line that resonates through your mind. Then there are the horns, oh the horns. If there is one thing in a great funk/soul song that I cannot resist, it is a wonderful smattering of tasteful horn-work. I'm in lust with this song.
"Down to the Waterline" by Dire Straits
Silence is a paintbrush, and the guitar work makes me swoon. Check out these lyrics:
Sweet surrender on the quayside.
You remember we used to run and hide.
In the shadow of the cargoes I take you one time.
And we're counting all the numbers down to the waterline.
Near misses on the dogleap stairways.
French kisses in the darkened doorways.
A foghorn blowing out wild and cold.
A policeman shines a light upon my shoulder.
Up comes a coaster fast and silent in the night.
Over my shoulder all you can see are the pilot lights.
No money in our jackets and our jeans are torn.
Your hands are cold but your lips are warm.
She can see him on the jetty where they used to go.
She can feel him in the places where the sailors go.
When she's walking by the river and the railway line.
She can still hear him whisper:
"Let's go down to the waterline."
I know I've been out of commission for awhile, and I do apologize for this (deeply and from the bottom of my heart. Do hearts have bottoms? What does the bottom of a heart look like, and what's actually there?). Anyway, I am looking out my window right now and watching cars gallumph through the sad-looking trees along the road. They are dead of winter trees that are standing so still and silent in this little breath of Spring air (ah, Spring). The trees are the smart ones because they know that there is still no reason to celebrate the warmth, it is uncertain and will probably disappear before the weekend is upon us. I still haven't learned that Spring never comes when it says it will. What a tease!
With my own naivete in mind, I have decided to craft a mixed masterpiece of life in the most stagnant months of the year. With my birthday coming up, I am feeling a little depressed, taking stock and wondering what I have actually accomplished in an entire year. Last year at this time, I was in a similar place. In fact, every year at this time I am in this place. My mood at this moment is just about as uncertain as the weather, and I find myself tiring of my constant self-assessment. I have been consumed by my work during the last week, with my free time eaten away by new media. Is that shallow? It feels to me like I am hiding from something, and maybe like the groundhog, I don't really want to see my own shadow.
Shakespeare said that "the play is the thing." I love plays, but for me the mix is the thing, it is the only type of crafting which I excel at on a regular basis (Side note: You know those craft projects that come pre-packaged in the cute boxes? I cannot, for the life of me, put them together. I always end up fucking something up, usually by jumping ahead and realizing that I cannot go back. Such is life.)
So here is a mix for my faithful readers. It will hopefully be less schizophrenic than this post. Peace, love, and all that jazz.
"Meltdown" by Ash
With galvanizing power this song wails into existence born on a message of revolt. The drums and guitars centralize over the repeated line: "I think (I think) my head is gonna explode," a line that was unbelievably apropos in Shaun of the Dead. Right now this song is one of the few songs (besides Stravinsky and Led Zeppelin) that can keep me in the moment for longer than ten seconds. It is focused like a laser beam.
"Atomic" by Blondie
Time for a revelation from my musical past. I don't think anyone knows this little factoid. The boy who I "liked" in fifth grade had a penchant for Blondie (he also loved playing card games: 45's, War, etc.) At the time, the only knowledge I had of Blondie was the random Debbie Harry song on The Rugrats Movie soundtrack *cough* LAME *cough*. This song is pretty fucking amazing, with lyrics that could come off as desperate in many contexts, but instead sound amazingly smooth and shiny. It is the kind of song that would be played on a spaceship, but the type of spaceship that caters to strippers? I think it's amazing.
"Time is Tight" by Booker T. & the MG's
This is a funky intermission song. When I listen, I feel like I am at a 1970s drive-in movie theatre getting ready to watch the second half of a double-feature. The instrumentation is very tight and metronomic, and in this case these qualities are comforting and far from banal.
"Straight to Hell" by the Clash
This song is sampled in M.I.A.'s "Paper Planes," and I found this odd upon first listen, because this song is fairly odd for The Clash. For example, the lyrics are almost stream of consciousness, and whenever I hear the song I feel like Joe Strummer and Mick Jones were pulling a kind of Jackson Pollock with their song-writing. It seems like a cathartic, "let's throw shit at the wall" kind of song, and I really enjoy the surrealism of their polemics. It is refreshing lyrically, and the music is stimulating and layered. This is one of my favorite Clash songs.
"Don't Go Down" by Elliott Smith
A song of doomed love that sounds like a train wreck musically personified. I find the mess both stimulating and frightening. Smith has a way of using very few words to invoke a veritable relationship chasm. He opens the wound and you fill the space with your own pain. This can be a therapeutic type of digression, but it can also become emotive in the worst possible sense of the word. There are times when you just need to decide to be happy.
"I Will Survive" by Cake
This is one of those times. Cake makes me happy, especially when they cover Gloria Gaynor songs with aplomb and a wonderful portion of funk. John McCrea's has a monotone and ironic voice which adds a wonderful layer of sarcasm to a song that deserved a good dose. Behind the vocal work is the steady, pumping bass-line that resonates through your mind. Then there are the horns, oh the horns. If there is one thing in a great funk/soul song that I cannot resist, it is a wonderful smattering of tasteful horn-work. I'm in lust with this song.
"Down to the Waterline" by Dire Straits
Silence is a paintbrush, and the guitar work makes me swoon. Check out these lyrics:
Sweet surrender on the quayside.
You remember we used to run and hide.
In the shadow of the cargoes I take you one time.
And we're counting all the numbers down to the waterline.
Near misses on the dogleap stairways.
French kisses in the darkened doorways.
A foghorn blowing out wild and cold.
A policeman shines a light upon my shoulder.
Up comes a coaster fast and silent in the night.
Over my shoulder all you can see are the pilot lights.
No money in our jackets and our jeans are torn.
Your hands are cold but your lips are warm.
She can see him on the jetty where they used to go.
She can feel him in the places where the sailors go.
When she's walking by the river and the railway line.
She can still hear him whisper:
"Let's go down to the waterline."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)