Tuesday, January 27, 2009

you can take me anywhere

After the last few posts, I thought I'd lighten things up a bit. Does anyone remember this band? This is one of the few things I got out of my first relationship in high school- I mean that both musically and otherwise. I am not what you would precisely call a fan of emo, though it definitely didn't have the stigma attached to it when I was in high school that it does now... kids these days. *Sigh* Isn't it funny how music, like everything else, seems to evolve and roll over on itself until the thing that a movement started out to be is only a shadow itself? Simulacra and simulation.

Anyway. The Juliana Theory. One of the only bands to break-up due directly to a dwindling fan base. Which is really a shame, because emo or not, the band wasn't without talent or merit. Their 2000 album, Emotion is Dead, sounds like high school to me. It's so over dramatic and overwrought. Like on "Is Patience Still Waiting?" (yes, that really is the name of the song) and lyrics like, Are you laughing at us today? And is this just one big game? Now cash me in while you can... That being said, it's not at all a bad album and it has some songs on it that are quite dear to me. "We're at the Top of the World" is such a sweet little love song. And there is something deeply satisfying about a song that owns it's chorus...  sha la la la.

It's really easy, I think, the older we get to forget how it felt that first time you fell in love. When you did really feel like you had all the time in the world to get it right, when you weren't in such a rush, when your biological clock wasn't ticking... when you still blindly trusted in love itself enough to follow someone to the ends of the Earth for it. Maybe it just takes 10 years to come back full circle from the first time, to feel that way again.

Monday, January 26, 2009

coming up only to show you down

Band of Horses. "The Funeral". I've been waiting a long time with this one on my shoulders. This is one of the most heartbreaking, gut wrenching songs I know. I listened to it a lot the month of May 2008 and I have barely been able to bring myself to listen since then. You know how that is, when something reminds you of someone so much or a situation or time or place so much that you cannot bring yourself to listen to it? 

Well, I've decided that its a damn shame. Letting perfectly good music go to waste. The Aries in me continually butts my head into the same thing until I get through it- often putting myself through a lot of unneccesary pain in the process. I'm a big fan of facing down my fears and shortcomings. I think sometimes that if I can prepare for it, if I don't hide from it, its somehow easier to deal with or handle or something. It rarely works that way, but in the process of finding 15 ways how not to do something, you learn an awful lot about yourself- about your strengths, about what you can handle, about what you can't. And sooner or later, you learn to go around the wall instead of through it.

This song is indescribable and if you haven't heard it, I don't know how to tell you what it feels like. It starts out on these perfectly rendered individual notes. Haunting. Ben Bridwell's voice is pitch perfect and you think you can predict where it's going, until it smashes you in the face with this wall of sound. The guitars (Mat Brooke) are driving, decisive, and until the second chorus you miss the drums if you're not looking for them. But, it's so in control and deliberate- understated anger lacing the whole thing. Just when you think it's going to plateau or even let up a little, the intensity increases.

The other day I was talking about conveying very specific and complex emotions. Well, "The Funeral" sounds feels exactly, precisely, and absolutely like grief. All five stages of it. You'd think that be obvious, what with the title of the song and all, but its not that simple. Its not that simple at all.

Oh Tennessee, what did you write? I come together in the middle of the night.

I am having the strangest day ever. I watched "Marie Antoinette" with my roommate Jimmy-Jam today after trying to see it for, like, three years? I loved it. I know and understand why a lot of people wouldn't, but I did and I loved the music in it too. I have liked this song for a really long time. The Strokes. "What Ever Happened?"

I wish that everyone who loved me or wanted to know me or understand me could see me in the moments that no one really does. It's what you do when no one is looking that makes you who you really are. That sounds sort of creepy I guess, but I don't mean it in a voyeuristic way... I just mean that you don't typically dance with abandon when you're with people, or sing as loudly in the car, or sit at your desk and type along to the same song for 15 minutes or an hour or two, to get the words as close to you as you can. Do you ever really let that last veil drop? But, if you could see without me showing you, since I am unable, you would know me so much better.

I was at the Post Secret event at GWU this week-end and made the comment that strangers being vulnerable makes me uncomfortable. (I think I said that bearing witness to other people's intimate moments makes me uncomfortable, actually.) Maybe that makes me a bad person or something, but I think that having that level of anonymity that Post Secret is founded on is what makes it work. The same way that I can sit here and reveal these incredibly personal things about myself on the internet and hide behind the relative safety of my computer screen. Even though there are people I know that read this, somehow it's easier to say it online rather than in person. I am better on paper anyway, where I can erase and reword and shift paragraphs around so that I sound relatively coherent.

And now that I have gone off on my tangent... So, it's been a weird day. A two nap, not enough food, ghost filled, completely unproductive sort of day. But, I heard this song while watching "Marie Antoinette" and Jimmy-Jam told me who it was, so I downloaded it. I have played it seven times in a row (so far) and as my bedroom is right above his studio, I'm sure he wants to kill me right now. But, it is making me feel more grounded, more strapped into my skin.

Sitting and writing has been something I've done fairly regularly for going on six years now, but for whatever reason, pouring it out to music is so much more cathartic. I think because it's a return to something that I used to do when I was growing up... if I wanted to learn the lyrics to something, or if I got a new CD or whatever, I would sit with the liner notes in front of me and just read along until it stuck. It's something that I really miss- as much as I love being able to have instant access to almost any individual song that I want, I think the care that used to go into entire albums isn't there across the board anymore. As such, you often have this disjointed view of a band or a song and its rare to come across an entire album that you spend time with and become invested in.

I really like The Strokes, more and more the longer I'm exposed to them. I remember when they first came out when I was a freshman in college and it was this really hopeful moment for music. It sounded so raw and relevant and just real. They've managed to maintain that stripped down sensibility throughout their career and I think its one of the reasons why so many people connect to them- they don't sound like they're trying so damn hard. I am a bit prejudiced- if you haven't noticed, I have no shortage of love for garage rock.

I wish I could pinpoint what it is about this particular song that does it for me. Julian Casablancas has such a distinctive voice. I love the way the song starts out so high and when it falls into him singing, the energy doesn't drop but just changes. The chorus comes before the verse here, which works so well. This song is really versatile- mood wise. You could dance to it or drive around to it or get slowly drunk to it. But, more than just that, I love how this song conveys such a specific complex emotion. The kind that isn't simply met by "happy" or "sad" or "frustrated" or even "confused", "conflicted" or "nostalgic".

Also. Tennessee Williams is my favorite playwright. And I do. Come together in the middle of the night. I have the most energy and ambition and my head is clearest when everyone good has long since gone to bed.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Music can be such a revelation...

Today is my best friend's 25th Birthday... and in honor of her, I'm going to let you in on a little secret. A surefire way to put both of us in a good mood is to listen to old school Madonna. We're talking the "Immaculate Collection" here. And, sadly, I just got the immaculate conception reference. Oh, how clever. Anyway, I have lots of really fond, and sometimes funny, memories of us getting ready to go out or driving in her car, fondly known as "The Beast" (we miss you) and listening to this CD.

Personally, "Into the Groove" is my jam. I'm tired of dancing here all by myself... Jimmy-Jam walked in on my dancing to this yesterday morning when we were getting ready to leave. I'm just glad he didn't witness me singing along with "Crazy for You". *sigh* I love that song. Truth be told, I like most of Madonna's music. Wonder how that will go over when I move in with G? He'd probably dance with me.

Ah. But this isn't about me. One of Z's favorites is "Like a Prayer", which I used to not be able to stand (I think the brunette Madonna video traumatized me as a kid or something). But now it always reminds me of her. Straight down to the gospel choir background. So, Z, some fun "Like a Prayer" facts for you on your Birthday. The version on "Immaculate Collection" is actually a re-mixed version. Both versions of the song feature guitar by Prince. (!) It was ranked #300 on Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. (I'm a little shocked by that one, honestly. Apparently, Z has better Madonna taste than I do.) And and and, did you know that both Rufio and Tori Amos do covers of this? Now you do!

Happy Birthday, Z ! Hope the next year is the best one yet.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

everything you want is done, you wanna run

I love love love Local H. How can you not love a band that's a full band- but only two people? The lead singer, Scott Lucas, covers vocals, guitars, and bass- he added bass pick-ups to his guitar and Joe Daniels was originally and now Brian St. Clair is on drums. I didn't believe it the first time that I saw them live (West Palm Beach- Buzz Bake Sale 2001). I wanted to see them this time in Orlando at the Social but I wasn't old enough at the time and I haven't really had the chance since. They're such a cool, groovy band. Yeah, I said groovy, don't judge me.

You probably know them but don't think you do. Their most popular song is always called by the wrong name (even by radio DJs who really should know better) and it drives me crazy! It's "Bound for the Floor" but no one knows what you're talking about unless you say "Copacetic". Off that same album, As Good as Dead, is "Eddie Vedder" which I also love.

My favorite album of theirs though is Pack Up the Cats. It's a very straight-forward rock album, nothing too fancy or polished. They sound solid though and in control of the music, like they know what they're doing but aren't trying too hard. This is one of those albums that I can listen to all the way through... It's very high energy, fun to listen to, and easy to let fade around in the background. I put it on when I'm cleaning my room, or making the drive from Orlando to Vero, or working out at the gym. "Laminate Man" is my favorite song on the album, mostly due to the lyrics.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

falling farther from just what we are

Driving faster in my car...

I have been waiting for the right moment to talk about this song. I have come to the conclusion that there isn't one. Stone Temple Pilots- "Big Empty".  It has been my favorite song since the moment I heard it- when I was nine. It happens to be on the soundtrack for the movie, "The Crow" (one of my favorite movies ever) and the soundtrack is amazing- Nine Inch Nails' cover of "Lost Souls"... but I digress. It's also found on the album, Purple, widely accepted as the best offering STP has ever come out with. 

This song means things to me that words simply don't describe. Not only has it remained my favorite song for, oh, going on 16 years now... but it also seems to pop up at the most opportune times. Days when I especially need to hear it, need to be reminded of who I am, moments when it seems like I am just utterly down and out- it seems to just come on the radio or on my iPod or somehow wind its way back into the fabric of my life. Sustaining me, filling up my soul with sheer joy. I'm not even exaggerating. This song is pure magic for me, from the first opening bars until the last strains of it are silenced.

How do you describe your favorite song? The lyrics are just enough. Uncomplicated, unable to stand on their own, but fitting into the music perfectly. It's some combination of Dean DeLeo's slide guitar and Scott Weiland's voice that really does it to me. All the building and falling, the palpable tension, and the sheer sexiness of it all. I cried, literally cried, when they played this when I saw them live (Hard Rock Live- Orlando- Fall 2002). I hear it and I just stand still and stop breathing for a second or two, taking it all in. I'm sure it's amusing for other people to watch. (It came on when I was playing pool one night and I stopped mid-conversation with my date, utterly fixated.)

It's a feeling that can't be transferred, apparently. I've made countless people listen to it, in the hopes that they would not only understand me better, or feel the things I do when I hear it- but that they would be able to have that feeling too. Pure adrenaline wrapped up in a valium. The experience from this song is unique only to me it seems. Unfortunately or not- it isn't something that I have been able to share- mostly due to my own inadequacies in expressing it. And possibly because it's too much pressure. You tell someone how this song is your touchstone and your soul and they listen to it and don't hear it all? Utter disappointment. Thus, I've stopped sharing.

And, at the end of the day, I don't want to. I mean, I'd love to share it, but I don't want to try to express it. I think finding an adequate way to put it into words, encompassing the sheer intensity of this song for me, would take a bit of the shine off. Though, if you've ever seen a shirtless, boa-clad, Scott Weiland singing this in between drags of a cigarette from six feet away you might get a small glimpse of what I'm talking about. 

Too much trippin' and my soul's worn thin.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

That's what they call me.

This is a bit of a departure for me. Rock (and the plethora of genres that encompasses) is generally what I want to talk about, it definitely makes up the vast majority of what I listen to. Mostly, the reason that I started listening to Otis Redding is because his music sort of features prominently in "Dirty Dancing". But, it sort of makes sense for me. My Dad loves blues and while I never really got into it, I think being consistently exposed to something makes it sort of seep into you. Plus, I love southern rock and I think soul is in the crossroads of that. The Doors (one of my favorites, that I actually have yet to write about)were big fans of Redding's. I'm just saying.

I love this song. "Love Man", off the album by the same name. This album was actually released in 1969 after Redding had already passed. He died in 1967 in a plane crash. So sad. I also really love "These Arms of Mine". Sometimes, I'll turn them up really loud when I'm home by myself and just dance around my room. Something about it all, Redding's voice and the music can just completely take me away.

Monday, January 12, 2009

I fear, sunrise will come too soon and you'll disappear

Seems like I'm always on my own... Back in the frozen District for a week now, following almost two delightful ones in balmy, sunny Florida. Don't mistake me, D.C. is exciting, engaging and good to me. It's been an incredible and life changing experience. The sort where you want to soak up every moment- maybe even more so because you know it can't last. I learned about seasons here... that you have to appreciate each second you get because it could change in the next breath. There are nights like tonight, where I walk around the city in 30 degree weather to meet a friend- feeling completely exhilarated and energized by Chinatown and the lights and the company... and I know I will remember this for the rest of my life, and feel grateful for it whatever I do, where ever I go.

All that being said. It's not home. And no matter where I roam, and I'm sure I couldn't tell you all the places I will or want to, Florida always will be. I hate to start the new year off on such a melancholy note, but this is the first thing I've heard in a week that made me really want to sit down and write. I listened to this album a lot about this time two years ago. It came out in September 2005 but took a full year and a half for me to take notice. Late nights won't do me justice. Augustana. All the Stars and Boulevards. Song of the same name. Interestingly enough, this was the first song off the album that I really connected with. The album, overall, is really well produced. Mixed well, the energy flows nicely from one song to another. It would be easy with so many sad or similar sounding songs to lose focus halfway through, but the music is captivating. It stays with you. This is one of those rare albums that I can listen to from start to finish without getting bored, sleepy, or fidgety. That's really saying something since my music ADD is well known and I am guilty of spending entire car rides without listening to any single song all the way through.

It's easy to listen to. I love Dan Layus' voice. It's husky, often wounded sounding, and it really propels the music forward. It won't bring you down if you're in a good mood. But, if you're not... it's a satisfying balm. They're only gonna tell you all the bad things I've done.. I used to drive around in my car (shocking) in the dead of Florida winter (which was frigid to me then) with the windows down, playing this album, alternating between feeling completely numb and incredibly alive. Not sure if I would do that here.

This song in particular, "All the Stars and Boulevards", was played in copious amounts during the winter of 2006-2007. The first time around, I was in the middle of ending a relationship, possibly starting a new one, and graduating college. I changed a lot of well thought out, agonized over, and yet, mislaid plans in a very short amount of time. I felt confused, jumbled, guilty, damaged and very alone. Like there was no place for me, like I didn't belong anywhere or with anyone. It's a feeling that only grew in intensity over the next year. I'm not sure that there are lyrics that could apply to my personal situation at the time any better than these. The music itself, the guitar, sounds resigned. Layus' voice does too. Resigned, yet desperate, clinging, but trying not to. I also really like the live version of this song. It's got a great melody and on the live version, the harmonica, piano, and guitar meld in a way that I think speaks to the soul of the song even more than the original version.

I told you I could give you anything, but anything won't do. Circumstances in my life currently couldn't be more different than they were then. So now, even though this song, this album, this music, reminds me of that time... it also resonates in a new way. Isn't it funny when something like that happens? When you hear the correct lyrics for a song you've been singing for years? Or you stop to listen to something that you didn't hear clearly before and it opens your eyes to this whole new meaning, this whole new world? Now, I have direction, healthy relationships, life experiences. I know more about myself, what's good for me, and what I want than maybe I ever have before. I love D.C. but I belong elsewhere. It's simply that home is where your heart is and both home and my heart are 800 miles away. I miss things that I can't have here right now. Four months is such a short amount of time, but it can seem like forever when you have as little patience as I do. It's both too much time and too little.

Seems like I'm never comin' home.