Play this if it stills looks and/or feels cold to you. In Spring also.
And here in itunes.
Tracklist:
Sun Kil Moon - Blue Orchids - April
Jaymay - Sycamore Down - Autumn Fallin’
Fleet Foxes - English House - Sun Giant [EP]
The Velvet Underground - Pale Blue Eyes - The Velvet Underground
The National - Keep it Upstairs - Abel [Single]
Bon Iver - Flume - For Emma, Forever Ago
Grizzly Bear - Central and Remote - Yellow House
M83 - Coloring the Void - Digital Shades Vol. 1
MF Doom - Doomsday - Operation Doomsday (intro)
Blackalicious - Deep in the Jungle - Melodica EP (first verse)
Eligh - Nightlife - Gas Dream
Del - BMs - Both Sides of the Brain
Pep Love featuring The Grouch - A New Religion - Ascension
Dead Prez - Be Healthy - Let’s Get Free
Reflection Eternal - Africa Dream - Train of Thought
Atmosphere - Mama Had a Baby & His Head Popped Off - The Lucy Ford EPs
Zion I - One - Mind Over Matter
Mr. Lif - New Man Theme - I Phantom
Last Emperor - Animalistics - Music, Magic, Myth
Blackalicious - Shallow Days - Nia
Sedatives for 2007 II: Upside Vibrato Bumps
Part II of Sedatives for 2007 is just over an hours worth of mostly rock and hip-hop tracks. It’s got a fine dose of vibrato voices, melodic pop songs, and a couple booty shakers. The last track is a short piano ballad called, “Sonata for a Good Man,” from the German film, The Lives of Others - a highly recommended flick and excellent song. It gripped me during the scene in which it is played. After the main character Dreyman plays it he says, ‘Do you know what Lenin said about Beethoven’s Appassionata? “If I keep on listening to this I won’t be able to finish the revolution.” Can anyone who heard this music – who really heard it – be a bad man?’
Sedatives for 2007 II - Upside Vibrato Bumps
1. Wilco – Impossible Germany – Sky Blue Sky [2007]
2. Beirut – Cliquot – The Flying Club Cup [2007]
3. Magnetic Fields – A Chicken With Its Head Cut Off – 69 Love Songs (vol. 1) [1999]
4. Jens Lekman – Your Arms Around Me – Night Falls Over Kortedala [2007]
5. St. Vincent – Now Now – Marry Me [2007]
6. The National – Slow Show – Boxer [2007]
7. Stars – Take Me To The Riot – In Our Bedroom After The War [2007]
8. Silversun Pickups – Little Lover’s So Polite – Carnavas [2006]
9. Fujiya & Miyagi – Ankle Injuries – Transparent Things [2006]
10. LCD Soundsystem – Someone Great – Sound of Silver [2007]
11. Justice vs Spank Rock - Thunderous Bumps (back from japan edit) - Pop Salvation [2007]
12. Girl Talk – That’s My DJ – Night Ripper [2006]
13. Brother Ali – Pedigree – The Undisputed Truth [2007]
14. Blue Scholars – Burnt Offering – Blue Scholars [2004]
15. Madlib – Movie Finale – Beat Konducta Vol. 3-4: In India [2007]
16. Die Sonate Vom Guten Menschen - Gabriel Yared & Stéphane Moucha - Das Leben Der Anderen [2007]
Download Sedatives for 2007 II using quicktime.
Subscribe to the feed and download it into itunes.
For this year’s mixtape I tried to take it to the next level with the podcast. It was the second year of podcast discoveries, with some of my favorites coming from Mad Decent Radio, Dhundee, and Stones Throw Records. David & Sparsh have also been making a few here and there. So here, I’ve compiled two podcasts with some of my loves over the past year.
This first installment is a bit more conceptual than the next one that I’ll post. Sedatives for 2007 I exploits the cerebral sounds of instrumental electronic music that we hope will launch thought patterns. The first four songs definitely invoke this idea.
Though avant-garde is not used as a descriptive label much these days, it definitely exists. It’s the art that pushes the boundaries, forming a new edge. So the overall concept of this mix combines the idea of listening to these technological sounds on our modern, cutting edge devices - it just makes sense.
Sedatives for 2007 I - downside think labtop
1. Apostle of Hustle – Gleaning – Folkloric Feel
2. The Field – A Paw in My Face - From Here We Go Sublime
3. A Sunny Day in Glasgow – 5:15 Train - Scribble Mural Comic Journal
4. Prefuse 73 – Pagina Dos – Prefuse 73 Reads The Books E.P.
5. People Press Play – These Days – S/T
6. DNTEL - To A Fault [ft. Grizzly Bear] – Dumb Luck
7. Casiotone for the Painfully Alone – Young Shields – Etiquette
8. The Real People – Untitled – The Joys of Losing Weight
9. Tommy Guerrero – Just Ain’t Me – From The Soil To The Soul
10. Madlib - Pyramids (Change) - The Beat Konducta Volume 1-2: Movie Scenes
11. Amon Tobin – Nova - Permutation
Download Sedatives for 2007 I using quicktime.
Subscribe to the feed and download it into itunes.
When I lived in the Bay Area, I would begin my day by listening to Democracy Now!, awakening my consciousness daily with a serious dose of poignant investigative reporting.
Amy Goodman’s political criticism is ubiquitous, which makes her razor-sharp news both important and paradoxical. How does she and/or her listeners remain objectively critical, but remain idealistic in the real world? (Is idealism in the real world an oxymoron?) Simply, how do we stay hopeful for change when our cynicism constantly overpowers our optimism? I was lucky enough to have dinner with Ms. Goodman and attend a live viewing of Democracy Now! a couple weeks ago.
The dinner was at a French restaurant in Chelsea. She walked in a bit late and dishovelled from working late on the following days stories. This helped break the ice, as Claire and I sat there with our three new friends from Albequerque.
Ms. Goodman arrived a bit tardy and dishovelled. Of course, her reasoning was more than acceptable.
It became immediately obvious that this woman was zealous about her work, like a missionary about proselytizing. She quickly broke into the latest news regarding Ken Burns’ new documentary on World War II and how he was taking heat for completely excluding the role of 500,000 Latino soldiers in the war.
She ordered lamb sausage, much to my delight and surprise. You know how most of these staunch lefties can be, right?
Her stories were fascinating - like she had probably told them hundreds of times, mastering the impersonations of the figures in the story - yet, so warm and genuine in the most personable way imaginable. Presenting her thesis project, almost being executed in East Timor, meeting but not knowing Michael Stipe, and disrupting the Reebok Human Rights Awards.
Meeting Amy Goodman made me admire the woman more. She definitely rocks.
Who bites fiercer, the alligator or the boxer? It matters not.
I’ve been dragging around, from the end of your coat for two weeks.
The National’s latest is “glimmering” the world in similar luminosity to that of it’s predecessor. Boxer follows the gemstone, Alligator with strokes of genius, streaks of brass, and brilliant piano keys from the likes of Sufjan Stevens.
The buzz that Boxer has reverberated throughout the blogosphere is pretty astounding. It’s interesting and funny how a highly anticipated follow-up allows us to jump to hasty conclusions, get giddy with anticipation, and pray to not be dissapointed. How do we hear our friends’ opinions and read the critics’ reviews without tainting our own listening experience? What do we look for in that first spin of a record to create an initial judgement? What does it take for our expectations to be met or exceeded? Why must we always compare it to the previous release? Any thoughts on the Art of Listening to a new record? One thing I will say, is that the albums that endure and that we endear, are the ones that we are unsure of at first. We are intrigued by the sound, but emotionally uncertain to start with. These records require months and years of unpacking and diagnosis. Whether Boxer shall be one of these emeralds remains to be seen, but what we can be sure of is that Matt Beringer and the pair of brothers have reconvened to fully realize their sound and breath.
This record stylistically fuses their folky-Americana Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers attitude with the shiny electricity of Alligator. The one complaint I’ve heard about the album is that there are no raucously emotional songs like Abel or Mr. November, which catch The National jolting on stage or in your speakers. On Boxer, it sounds like Beringer has taken a lesson from Jeff Tweedy on sobriety and maturity. His voice sounds relaxed and controlled, even on the more rocking songs like “Mistaken for Strangers” and “Apartment Story.” I almost think that Beringer has mellowed the tone in order to save his voice on tour.
The aesthetic of song lyrics rests in the ability of the listener to relate, interpret, wonder at the originality, and seek to decipher endlessly. Beringer creates this scenario for the listener better than any songwriter I’ve heard.
“Is Fake Empire supposed to be political or something?” - S.teave, friend
“I think they gave the drummer meth for this album” - Dan Altman, roommate
In March of 2006, I saw The National perform at The Independent in San Francisco. It was a weeknight and tons of fans bought too many tickets, thinking their friends would be ecstatic to see this awesome band performing. Yet, myself and dozens of others handed our extra tickets to the doorman outside and told him to give it away to someone. In my concert-going exerience history, you really never know when a show will sell out, if there will be a glut of unsold tickets, or who has the upperhand in a scalping transaction. Anyway, Beringer, The National’s hearthrob lead-singer, had a cold and popped a cough drop into his mouth after the first song, before realizing that he couldn’t sing with a ricola dangling near his Jack Daniels-Camel cigarette coated voice-box. I was bummed that Beringer’s sexy baritone voice wasn’t at full rasp, but he redeemed himself more as the show went on. Towards the end of the set, as he struggled to maintain himself, he confessed, “If I’m going to go out, I want to go out on this one.” The chords of “Abel” triggered and the band flared into bloom, the audience into recognition, that voice screaming repeatingly, “My mind’s not right!” In my head, it seemed like this is what a sick, smoking, whisky-drinking singer needed - to yell furiously and clear the flem from deep down, enabling the graininess of his voice to pour through.
Beringer’s appeal is similar to that of Sean Daley (aka Slug of Atmosphere). Both exude sex appeal because of an intelligent, self-deprecating lyrical style, a dishevelled attractiveness, and songs regarding past love and relationships. Not to mention, an affinity for filtered reds and 100 proof.
The National do seem to be blowing up as one of the best rock bands today,as Brooklynvegan and others have pointed out. It’s puzzling though since they seem to be missed by a great deal of listeners out there. May will have them exploding around New York City with 5 sold-out shows at the Bowery Ballroom and 3 sold-out shows opening up for The Arcade Fire. It’s funny, because I’ve talked to a few people going to The Arcade Fire shows and I have to urge them to get their early for the opener. I have tickets to their last Bowery show on June 1st… hopefully Beringer takes extra care of his box this time around.
On a side note, I really resonate with what La Blogotheque has to say regarding the band:
The times I’ve spent with The National have inspired countless stories, both personal and public. Their music has a capacity to fuse itself into the fabric of our daily lives more than any other, moving gently at first, in such a way that you don’t initially notice the depth behind each song. But they’ll tell you themselves that those melodies that stand out on the first listen won’t be there on the tenth listen. That’s the way they work, composing with the challenge of refining each song with unprecedented complexity. In the beginning there’s an obvious melody line, in which each musician offers something particularly special, before Matt Berninger arrives with his unique poetry, allowing the music to unravel into rare heights.
8/26/06 - An old journal entry that made me grin.
We walked into a diner somewhere outside Winslow, Arizona. The carbon monoxide slapped me in the nostrils as the glass doors shut behind us. We were not in the Bay Area anymore,
Barrel bins full of toffee like candy were being sold by the counter. Cowboy hats and belt buckles, old decrepid skin, cigarettes before/after/during cholesterol happy meals, american flag paraphenilia the norm, a dude in a “new Testament” hat?…Claire don’t point that guy out to me cause I am an awkward laugher… and I will cackle at him hysterically… and the last thing this town wants is an “Arabian” guy not from “’round here” laughing incessantly at anything… especially not another human.
España - Modernisme y Fascismo en Nueva York
“Never mind the rain, remember them boys in Spain.” - slogan
Were they bored, sympathetic, or what?
In 1937, one thousand New Yorkers joined thirty-five thousand other volunteers, creating the International Brigade that would help the Spanish Republican Army fight against the Francoists (Nationalists). Though defeated, their legacy is now on display at the Museum of the City of New York until August 12th. The multmedia, memorabilia, and information provided by this exhibit is quite interesting on many levels, but especially because it helps shed light on why Spain mattered to New York.
Many socialists and members of the left-wing intelligentsia around the world felt the plight that the Spaniards were undergoing. They knew of the danger that Mussolini and Hitler presented to Europe and didn’t want that virus of fascism to spread through to Spain as well.
Also exhibited during this spring art season is “Barcelona and Modernity: Gaudí to Dalí,” at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. This awesome 300 piece showcase presents a transitioning city between 1880-1939, moving from a provincial Catalonian capital to an European artistic haven of the avante-garde. The amount of art produced in Barcelone during this fifty year period is astounding and the names of the artists is truly intimidating: Antoni Gaudi, Pablo Picasso, Joan Miro, and Salvador Dali.
I never knew Gaudi was such a multi-faceted artisan:
Or that Picasso produced so much fantastic work during his “Blue Period.”
If you are in New York City during the remaining tenure of these exhibits and you are a lover of Spanish history and art, just stroll up Fifth Avenue. Or for a closer look, let’s head to Catalunya and get some cafe con leche at Els Quatre Gats!
Wilco’s forthcoming album, Sky Blue Sky, is set for release May 15th, but was leaked about a month ago via the internet. I first heard a couple tracks on NPR’s All Songs Considered and immediately became excited.
Wilco’s mystique, complexity, and craftsmanship make them a band that I love to keep rediscovering. My appreciation for their songs and records has been growing for years now. As I recently watched a 2005 recording of their performance at Austin City Limits, I was blown away by the electricity they exude onstage. Jeff Tweedy is the heart of the group, but every member adds so much sonic depth and instrumental expertise that I found myself in awe of their live spectacle. Nels Cline was added to the group in 2004 and his avant-garde style & presence on both 04’s A Ghost is Born and 2007’s Sky Blue Sky is a true gift for this ever-expanding group.
Deemed as the “American Radiohead” by some, the comparison is worthy and continues to ring true on the latest.
Every Wilco record is crafted with such meticulous precision and is quite different from the predecessor. Wilco’s musical evolution is complicated to understand and controversial to fans, as their genre labeling is convoluted - Alternative Country, Folk, Experimental, Psychadelic, Indie-Rock. It’s all needless branding since Wilco doesn’t come neatly packaged.
I will continue to quote the words of my friend Gabe McNatt - “Wilco is the music we are going to play for our kids.” I like that label.
The only static entity for this progressive group is Jeff Tweedy’s lyrical gift and voice. Just when you think his voice has gotten more mellow and medicated, the emotion picks up like on the fifth track, “Side with Seeds”. Even when the guitars flare and distortion frolicks, Tweedy is the fulcrum that keeps the tracks tight and pretty.
Though Wilco is not as daring and experimental this time around, I would say that this is a dare in itself. It seems that after years of toying with varying sounds, they found themselves, while still making an entirely different album. I do think they are one of the greatest bands around today and an essential brick in the structure of American popular music today.
More on Wilco’s latest masterpiece to come…
Empathy is simply the ability to step into someone else’s shoes and understand circumstances from their point of view. This trait is one of the most important to possess if humans wish to fathom the varied states of nature and emotion. Within life’s daily interactions empathy can be the necessary tool to cope with a situation and quell a negative reaction. And in cases of dire events, it causes pain at the very thought of the tragedy. When someone else makes a sloppy driving mistake on the road, I recall my instances of incompetence, and when death occurs I shudder at the thought of that piercing my heart close to home.
I heard that a friend of a good friend had been charged with a murder he did not commit a couple months ago. Over that span of time, I’ve come to understand the fine details of the case and I believe that Tennesse native Eric Volz is innocent of murdering Doris Jimenez in San Juan, Nicaragua on Nov. 21, 2006. As he awaits his appeal in maximum-security Modelo prison beginning his 30-year sentence, I know that his plight and ordeal could have happened to me.
Eric’s case finally gained some national press attention here in the United States on Monday, when the Wall Street Journal published a front page article titled “Romance, a Murder And an American in Nicaraguan Jail”.
The article does not give Eric the complete benefit of the doubt, but it is somewhat holistic and nuanced in its presentation. Toward the end of the article the points are given that prove Eric’s innocence including:
1) Eric had seven eye-witnesses during the time of the murder, as well as cell phone records showing his location.
2) Eric was charged with rape, though the autopsy later showed that this did not occur.
3) There was no blood, hair, or other physical evidence that the prosecution provided to link Eric to the crime.
I’m just trying to bring some further awareness to this man’s situation. Here’s how you can help:
-Read more on his case at his family’s website and write to your congressman.
-Become his friend on myspace and get your friends to as well.
Just imagine if that were you:
Also check the new youtube of Eric Volz’s case.
The album begins with more distortion than we are used to previously. Cacophony screeches into full bloom at the inception of the first track, “The Birth and the Death of Day”. We are then struck by a tender melody gliding smoothly across electric strings, the steady galloping of drums, a crescendo sending the heart thumping and head banging, the sound oscillating between tragic thunder and glimmering hope. This is indeed a successful recipe for an Explosions in the Sky record. Fortunately for their fans, there is enough progression to sustain the excitement and not wear out the novelty just yet.
I couldn’t help but wonder if this latest album from the Austin quartet would be redundant. They definitely have a methodology to their music, so can they keep listeners pleased with their fourth full-length album of post-rock instrumentals? The answer is yes.
The latest round of arrangements are more rich and complex, possibly due to the help of renowned producer John Coggleton (The Roots, The Mountain Goats, etc.) It’s more of the same, but with just enough evolution and deviation to keep us wanting more from the four Texans. “It’s Natural to be Afraid” and “Catastrophe and the Cure” are the elongated 7 and 13 minute tracks we love from Explosions, this time requiring even more patience before the tracks completely envelope and unravel into ultraviolet radiance.
I see an image of a marching band strutting in unison, slow motion across a battlefield. They are of Union nature, unfazed by the combative movement of the Confederacy, as musket shots are fired and stream through the marchers’ bodies. Bloodshed encapsulates the scene, but the drummer doesn’t stop pounding and leading his regiment. This is a scene that’s been painted for me by this opus.
A friend of mine once said that Explosions in the Sky are “the perfect soundtrack to any journey. Tuning into them on a mundane trip to the corner store transforms itself into an epic odyssey.” They certainly continue this feat on their latest, “All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone.” Solace is brought and aesthetics are discovered during these cold winter days, struggling to make ends meet in the city. Explosions are singing, my hands are in my pockets, face ducking behind my scarf seeking to shield the winter claw. This music is the antidote and complement to this beautiful season.
The winter bite snaps and you awaken, slapped by the beauty of the day.
Stimulation is everywhere, a season is in full form, note-worthy happenings occurring - these are all due to my change in location - Brooklyn, New York.
Specifically, I’m living Downtown in between the areas of Fort Greene and DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridge Overpasses). It’s exciting and I’ve romanticized New York City to the maximum, only to allow myself to comprehend and see Gotham - the darkness and dreary place that is lurking nearby. In your face at Union Sqaure, in the alley of Morningside Heights, walking home from Jay Street. It’s a feeling that people carry around. It’s the anxiety and the rage of travelling under close proximity to other humans. It’s the struggle that so many have to endure in order to survive here. It’s that insecure and uncertain eye-contact you receive in subterranea or on the sidewalk. Sometimes people give it twice, just for that reassurance. And you can only hope you are responding with a look of confidence and support.
But I’m digging the vibe and multi-culturalism of the NYC. This blog wil now focus on occurrences here, the ever-burgeoning “and what-nots”, live music, reviews on incredible records due this year (The National, Wilco, Stars, DNTEL, Deltron3030, need I say more?), politics (US-Latin America focused), food, and anything else that comes up.
The Clientele - Reflections After Jane (an older track by these Brits)
They just create that dreamy pop music I adore, truly encapsulating the feeling of melancholic elation.
The second to last song on The Clientele’s album, “Strange Geometry, is “Losing Haringey.”
I just came across their blog and just had it repost the lyrics to this song.
It’s just that good. Ask Lara, she’ll tell you so.
It’s an unbelievable testimony, more than just a glimpse into a mind. It’s utterly stupendous, wickedly in depth, sad, but with a sprinkle of hope.
Here it is:
“In those days, there was a kind of fever that pushed me out of the front door, into the pale, exhaust-fumed park by Broadwater Farm or the grubby road that eventually leads to Enfield: turkish supermarket after chicken restaurant after spare car part shop. Everything in my life felt like it was coming to a mysterious close: I could hardly walk to the end of a street without feeling there was no way to go except back. The dates I’d had that summer had come to nothing, my job was a dead end and the rent cheque was killing me a little more each month. It seemed unlikely that anything could hold much longer. The only question left to ask was what would happen after everything familiar collapsed, but for now the summer stretched between me and that moment.
It was ferociously hot, and the air quality became so bad that by the evening the noise of nearby trains stuttered in in fits and starts, distorted through the shifting air. As I lay in the cool of my room, I could hear my neighbours discussing the world cup and opening beers in their gardens. On the other side, someone was singing an Arabic prayer through the thin wall. I had no money for the pub so I decided to go for a walk.
I found myself wandering aimlessly to the west, past the terrace of chip and kebab shops and laundrettes near the tube station. I crossed the street, and headed into virgin territory – I had never been this way before. Gravel-dashed houses alternated with square 60s offices, and the wide pavements undulated with cracks and litter. I walked and walked, because there was nothing else for me to do, and by degrees the light began to fade.
The mouth of an avenue led me to the verge of a long, greasy A-road that rose up in the far distance, with symmetrical terraces falling steeply down then up again from a distant railway station. There were four benches to my right, interspersed with those strange bushes that grow in the area, whose blossoms are so pale yellow they seem translucent, almost spectral; and suddenly tired, I sat down. I held my head in my hands, feeling like shit, but a sudden breeze escaped from the terraces and for a moment I lost my thoughts in its unexpected coolness. I looked up and I realised I was sitting in a photograph.
I remembered clearly: this photograph was taken by my mother in 1982, outside our front garden in Hampshire. It was slightly underexposed. I was still sitting on the bench, but the colours and the planes of the road and horizon had become the photo. If I looked hard, I could see the lines of the window ledge in the original photograph were now composed by a tree branch and the silhouetted edge of a grass verge. The sheen of the flash on the window was replicated by bonfire smoke drifting infinitesimally slowly from behind a fence. My sister’s face had been dimly visible behind the window, and –yes- there were pale stars far off to the west that traced out the lines of a toddler’s eyes and mouth.
When I look back at this there’s nothing to grasp, no starting point. I was inside an underexposed photo from 1982 but I was also sitting on a bench in Haringey.
Strongest of all was the feeling of 1982-ness: dizzy, illogical, as if none of the intervening disasters and wrong turns had happened yet. I felt guilty, and inconsolably sad. I felt the instinctive tug back - to school, the memory of shopping malls, cooking, driving in my mother’s car. All gone, gone forever.
I just sat there for a while. I was so tired that I didn’t bother trying to work out what was going on. I was happy just to sit in the photo while it lasted, which wasn’t for long anyway: the light faded, the wind caught the smoke, the stars dimmed under the glare of the streetlamps. I got up and walked away from the squat little benches and an oncoming gang of kids.
A bus was rumbling to my rescue down the hill, with a great big “via Alexandra Palace” on its front, and I realised I did want a drink after all.”
The focus is on a hanging plant, it’s metal rungs, the leaves. The background is blurry. It’s 1966, in a pool hall in Taipei, the capital of Taiwan. “A Time for Love.” Yet it’s that classic sort of love. Its classic because it’s instantaneous. It’s that time, that age, you’re ready, you find her, you know it, and you court her. You know little of her, but that is more than satisfactory.
Chen is a young army conscript who falls for May, a beautiful pool-hall hostess. Their flirtation is wordless. Chen takes long drags of his filterless cigarettes and as the flame burns, he contemplates into the air. “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” the 60s pop song by The Platters plays in the background. May, wearing a silk blouse tucked into a long skirt, exudes sex appeal.
She stares directly at him for a while with a smile, then looks down, exploding into a giggle. This is their interaction. Her coquettiish ways and his autere, yet calm demeanor. He has to report back the following morning, so all they have is the night, a silently comfortable meal, and each other’s hand to hold under the umbrella. A pitch black sky.
“A Time for Freedom.” It’s 1911 in Taipei, under Imperial Japan. Mister Chang is a revolutionary newspaperman and Qi is his concubine in a brothel. They speak daily devoid of affection, sipping their tea, and sitting proper.
All of a sudden we are zooming along the highway on a motorcycle. This is now modern day Taipei 2005.
She is clinging on the back tightly, fists clenched/interlocked around his waist.
He the photographer, she the epileptic lesbian singer. Their relationship is one of passionate, steamy lovemaking in the hallway.
If based solely on this, their lives seem intertwined and inextricably linked. Their unbridled amorousness incapable of being doused.
But this is the twenty-first century. Deception and misconceptions. Cell phones, text messaging, missed calls, jealous lesbian lovers. “A Time for Youth.”
When was life better, simpler, less complicated? 1966,1911, 2005.
This is Taiwanese director Hou Hsiao-hsien’s latest called Three Times. Three years, 3 love stories, same 2 actors, Taipei. Truly of cinematographic brilliance.
Sedatives for 2005 - A Brief Ode and the Year in Music
Whether personally or globally, I think the word that best describes 2005 is tumultous. In retrospect, it was rocky in both arenas, but I think it’s important to reflect on the catastrophic or negative and to gain a lesson. Let’s understand how to change and work to be better. Be happy with today. And optimistic for tomorrow.
A brief list of negatives for the year could be startling: Tsunami. Katrina. Bombay Floods. Pakistani Earthquake. London Bombings. Alberto Gonzalez. Samuel Alito. Pat Robertson. Sudan Genocide. Fractured Kyoto Protocol. Iraq War. Tookie’s Execution. French Riots.
My folks went to a group meditation for New Years and the “gurus” predicted that 2006 would be a good one. The world might seem to be in dire shape, but our overall global consciousness is rising each year they said. Are things getting better in some ways? Brian McCartan’s recent article in the CS Monitor, “War and disasters aside, 2005 brought world progress,” says we have reason to keep our flame of optimism lit.
It was a year I now recall somewhat fondly, contemplate happily, & bask in the thought that the last couple months have been stunning. India was intense and rich. The summer was tragic unlike anything I’ve experienced. Autumn was neither mediocre nor excellent, but I felt the stable wheels of routine roll back into my life. And during this rainy, wintry December I feel excited each day and happy to see and interact with all people. I’m just letting things happen and not worrying about the future so much anymore.
“It was a very good year,” to quote a Sinatra song, in the realm of music. It was the year of many phone conversations with Oso regarding our latest faves and in the process of these weekly talks I realized something: Hearing my friends’ opinions, reading reviews (esp. by Pitchfork) was clouding my personal judgement before even experiencing a work firsthand. At times, before even listening to a new album, I had built a preconceived notion and established an opinion. This was bullshit. Yeah, I respect many of my friends and I know what they like and understand. Yeah, I dig reading reviews and I love how writers/critics can convey the intracacies and insides in their complex language. But damn, I just want to hear the record first before thinking I know what it’s going to be like.
It was a year in which people became myspace whores. Will that trend fade out this year or become the medium of online communication?
It was the year I realized how much I need an i-pod. I’m so sick of burning cds, scratching them, sorting through them, all of it. It’s time to organize them on an external hardrive and pick up that much needed mp3 player. We’ve accumulated so much music through downloading, ripping, burning, and buying. Anyone who is complaining that there aren’t any good bands out right now is just not looking hard enough. Because this was the year that Reuel and I laughed when we asked each other, “Have you heard of so and so?” And the other would reply with, “Yeah, I have it but haven’t listened to it yet.” Why? Because there’s too much music to listen to right now.
Or maybe I’m wasting my time. Maybe I wasted a lot of time this year listening to music. How many times did I stare up at ceiling fans with my headphones on and eat an hour? A couple hundred I’m sure. But I don’t regret a minute of those times that I was thinking, decompressing, writing, or trying to get amped up to start my day. I want to thank everyone I know who exchanges music and musical thoughts with me. I love it just too much. Without further blabber:
Best Music of 2005 - Artists and Albums and Tracks - My Favorites
12. The Album Leaf - In a Safe Place [2004]
(genre: post-rock/instrumental)
Jimmy LaValle left sunny SoCal for inspiration in Iceland. It’s more electronic than Sigur Ros, but with many similarities. It was my anthem as I ventured from one Indian state to another. Alot of mellow instrumentals all recorded at Sigur’s Icelandic studio.
11. Casiotone for the Painfully Alone [2003]
(genre: lo-fi electronic)
I ask Nate what he’s listening to and I get it.
Owen Ashworth plays 14 Casio keyboard tracks with lyrics that sound like they are very personal stories written for different women in his life. But he says this is not the case. I would say that CTFTPA sounds like a very raw sounding Postal Service.
10. Atmosphere - You Can’t imagine How Much Fun We’re Having [2005]
(genre: indie hip-hop)
10. Death Cab for Cutie - Plans [2005]
(genre: introspective indie rock)
[This was written after I saw Death Cab play a month ago]:
It’s so much cooler when you are of the few that know. “I’m showing you something fresh, increasing my originality.” Then two years later you say, “I had that album before anyone knew them and before they were mainstream and soldout.” I guess it’s one of the definitive features and qualities that the counter culture spirit must embrace. Whether it be a cult film, a hip clothing style, or the latest indie band - if it strides toward the “Zona Popular”, it’s a somber and dissapointing day.
I have felt my enthusiasm drop and dwindle after seeing a nieve high schooler bobbing their heads to “my melodies!” But shouldn’t I be happy that more people are listening to an artist I respect?
We’ve all been discouraged with musicians who change their sound purely for popular recognition, control by their record label, and/or capital gain. But we’ve all also decided to dislike an artist solely because a frat boy, our siblings’ friend, MTV, or a car commercial now dug and supported “our discovery!”
It’s important to recognize the difference.
When I look at bands like Death Cab for Cutie and Atmosphere, I see that I have rolled my eyes at their rise, increased promotional efforts, and new/younger fans. But now I understand that Death Cab & Atmopshere are both groups who have stayed true to their essence and have grown, transcended, and evolved beautifully over ten years and five albums. One indie rock, the other underground hip-hop, though both are pretty well-known after being in the spotlight for a while now.
Ben Gibbard (Death Cab) and Sean “Slug” Daley (Atmosphere) are two of the best lyricists I’ve ever heard. Their songs of heartbreak, incredible one liners, and beautiful metaphors allow them to speak directly to the listener who can completely relate their own memories with the music. Even if we haven’t experienced their precise & detailed personal story… we wish we had or we wished we had conceived such an intelligent idea. But we do relate to the emotion they are expressing, be it frustration, anger, lost love, or melancholy.
I wouldn’t be able to count how many brilliant stanzas Slug has rhymed and caused Oatey and I and other friends to recite line for line, back and forth to each other. The more I read about the guy, the more I respect him. In the 10 year anniversary of Alarm magazine, Slug talks about turning down major labels like Interscope and Sony:
The major labels were all met with a polite, “Thanks, but no thanks,” which turned quite a few label execs red in the face and set the indie media circuits ablaze with talk of how Atmosphere turned down the majors. The decision came down to Slug: “The reason I said no to majors was never because I didn’t want the money, it was becuase of all the extra baggage. I didn’t want to be that new posterboy.”
In the process, of staying independent he’s also turned down many other product endorsements like sneakers.
With the latest Atmosphere album, ole’ Sluggo still whips out clever rhymes like on “Say Hey There” and “Get Fly”:
“She still makes time to hate me
but basically I’m overbooked no emotional vacancy”“Society becomes jealousy
intimacy becomes intensity
say it with a smile like it’s meant to be
and all of a sudden BOOM American family”
8. Doves - Some Cities [2005]
(genre: Britpop)
I picked this album up from a record store in Bangalore. It sounded like disc two to their 2002 release, “The Last Broadcast.” Did they use the same recipe or what because some songs sounded way too familar? Maybe so, but they do a pretty good job and are one of the better British rock bands out there.
7. Sufjan Stevens - Illinois [2005]
(genre: indie rock/progressive folk)
A superb orchestration of melodies, choruses, and Sufjan’s personal stories are really something. He says he will make an album dedicated to each state in the union. I say rock it. It is evident that his Christianity is one with him, but the irony is present and he does not proselytize.
6. Sigur Ros - Takk [2005]
(genre: post-rock)
Sigur Ros’ 4th album might be their best (right Reuel?) because of more complexity in sound and deeper crescendos. And I guess they are finally singing in Icelandic though how many can actually notice the difference from their gibberish called Hopelandic.
5. Boards of Canada - The Campfire Headphase [2005]
(genre: ambient electronic)
Just like Sigur, this is possibly their best album yet. These Scotsmen added guitars to their electronic sound without tainting their style. They are definitley my favorite band to write to and it’s a bummer I couldn’t make space for them on the latest Sedatives.
4. Broken Social Scene - self-titled [2005]
(genre: indie rock/experimental)
Well, they were the best live performance I saw this year. Timmy might disagree, as he caught them at the Henry Fonda in L.A. and said, “Bro, five guitarists on stage, it’s a little ridiculous.”
Well, he might be right, but they’re doing their thing and creating a sound unlike anything I’ve heard before.
3. The Decemberists - Picaresque [2005]
(genre: introspective indie rock)
Colin Meloy has to be one of the most brilliant and original songwriters in the game today. A degree in creative writing can’t be a bad thing for any singer and I’m damn curious to catch dude doing his current solo thing/tour next month.
I finally snagged The Decemberists’ first album (Castaways & Cutouts) as I departed West Hollywood, Timmy, and Alex in mid-September and drove home. The 8 minute ballad titled “California One” immediately caught my ear and I held on tight through all of the song and its swift transitions.
It isn’t that The Decemberists have three flawless albums that are smooth from start to finish. But there are 5-6 gems that I get addicted to for a month straight. The lovely acoustic tunes along with Colin’s fantastic storytelling and medieval vocabulary. I can’t believe I missed them at live The Fillmore this year.
2. Stars - Set Yourself on Fire [2005]
(genre: indie pop)
Torq Campbell & Amy Millan (& the rest of the band) create excellent melodies and harmonize on everything they do. Call it electropop if you must, but their lyrics are nostalgic & meaningful for anyone ages 17-37. “Your Ex-lover is dead” was my favorite song this year with good reason.
God that was strange to see you again. Introduced by the friend of a friend. Smiled and said ‘Yes, I think we’ve met before.’ In that instant it started to pour. Captured a taxi despite all the rain. We drove in silence across Pont Champlain. And all of that time you thought I was sad. I was trying to remember your name.
1. Ulrich Schnauss - A Strangely Isolated Place
(genre: ambient electronic)
In my darkest, most introspective, or epiphanous (haha, I know funny) moments this year, this German gentleman was both “cause and effect. Pause for respect.” One of the keys to music in general, but especially when it comes to ambient/electronic is progression. Without lyrics, it is purely up to the instrumental to capture a listener and keep them enchanted. When a musician like Ulrich can do that for 6-8 minute tracks, you know the guy understands his trade. For more info on his album, you can read this previous post. His first album, “Faraway Trains Passing By” was re-released this year and is also definitely worth checking out.
Older albums that I grew much greater appreciation for this year:
Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain [1994]
The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots [2002]
DNTEL - Life is Full of Possibilities [2002]
The Decemberists - Castaways and Cutouts [2002]
Broken Social Scene - Feel Good Lost [2001]
Broken Social Scene - You Forgot it in People [2002]
And here is the mix I have compiled:
An Opiate for the Cathartic
(Sedatives for 2005)
1. Zion I - The Bay
2. Amadou & Mariam - Mbife (Balafon)
3. Nortec Collective - Olvidela Compa
4. Stars - One More Night
5. Doves - One of These Days
6. Broken Social Scene - Swimmers
7. Casiotone for the Painfully Alone - Half Ghost
8. Death Cab for Cutie - What Sarah Said
9. Stars - Your Ex-Lover is Dead
10. The Decemberists - On the Bus Mall
11. Sufjan Stevens - Casimir Pulaski Day
12. Pinback - Loro
13. Broken Social Scene - I Slept with the Bonhomme at the CBC
14. The Album Leaf - Another Day (Revisited)
15. Ulrich Schnauss - Gone Forever
16. Sigur Ros - Se Lest
Tracks that shoulda but didn’t make the cut due to lack of space:
Murs & Slug - Morris Day
Atmosphere - Say Hey There
Blackalicious - My Pen & Pad
My Morning Jacket - My Heart Beats 4 u
Boards of Canada - Peacock Trail
M.I.A. - Sunshowers
The National - All the Wine
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! - The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth
Albums from 2005 that are sounding excellent but that I’m yet to really “disect, digest, diagnose” and have a solid opinion about :
-Okkervil River - The Black Sheep Boy
-The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
-Sun Kil Moon - Ghosts of the Great Highway
-Vashti Bunyan - Lookaftering
-LCD Soundsystem - self-titled
-Amadou et Mariam - Dimanche a Bamako
-Blackalicious - The Craft
-Edan - Beauty and the Beat
- Wolf Parade - Apologies to the Queen Mary
The album that I didn’t know what to think of but that has grown on me more and more:
-My Morning Jacket - Z
The disappointments and/or albums I just wasn’t feeling as much as everyone else (I’m truly sorry):
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!: self-titled
Bloc Party - Silent Alarm
Coldplay - X & Y
That’s it. I would love to hear what you’ve been digging. Cheers to 2005 and I look forward to more visine for our ears and sedatives for our minds with 2006.
Detoxification & Upliftification - Broken Social Scene live
On multiple occasions today, I ‘ve acknowledged my surprisingly superb feeling. It has caused me to question what has spawned this buzzing sensation that I have felt throughout my long work day. I’ve been more focused, felt more at ease, and more confident of handling situations. Was it that hot cup of Yerba Matte that I drank early on? Maybe it was that cough medication that I purchased before driving to Oakland. Whatever the cause… I was receptive in knowing how I could generate this feeling on a regular basis.
Since I began this era called “Twenty-something”, I’d like to think that I’ve become more aware and attune with my body’s needs and reactions. I know that during this chilly season, when the weather starts to creep in from all sorts of venues - I am wiser to drink my green tea rather than coffee. If I receive a call to “get wild”, drink cold beers, and live debaucherously - I am better off staying in. Unfortunately, endurance is something that normally lacks as the “winter” treads on . During the last two weeks, I’ve done pretty well. Only when old friends come from outta town can I validate a late night and some beverages. I see this overall process of detoxification to be quite a benefit for both mind & body purification. All I really know is I feel absolutely stellar right now.
It might have something to do with the fact that my ears are still ringing. My drums still beating & humming after being completely toasted by one of the most stupendous live music experiences I have yet witnessed. Broken Social Scene live at the Grand in San Francisco. Leslie Feist (also a BSS member) opened. Feist looked exceptionally beautiful, wearing a white blouse and tight white pants to cover her porcelain skin. Long bangs covered her eyes in a sexy manner as her cute ponytail hung the rest of her brunette hair. I haven’t been a huge fan of her album - It’s just a bit boring I guess, being very acoustic and simple. But she really rocked live and I now feel more inspired to throw “Let it Die” back in the deck (I hesitatingly admit that I haven’t even played it all the way through even once as of present).
Using mainly an electric guitar, but switching to her “Little” acoustic guitar just enough, Feist won the audience over easily. Her use of crowd control, casual laughter, and improvisation all made me really dig Feist, not only musically, but personally. For one track, she invited a freestyle artist from the crowd to come on-stage. Despite this person’s terrible flow, causing detriment to a beautiful instrumental, Feist made sure the crowd gave the young lady an enthusiastic response. I’d say that was a very kind gesture. Feist displayed true elegance to complement her lovely voice and I grew a new found love when hearing familiar tracks like “Gatekeeper”, “Mushaboom”, and of course the title track to her latest album “Let it Die”, where she sings:
The saddest part of a broken heart, isn’t the ending, so much as the start. The tragedy starts from the very first spark. Losing your mind for the sake of your heart.
Broken Social Scene took stage at 10:30 pm. The smell of freshly burned herbs and little bellows of smoke inhabited the room simultaneously, causing personal nostalgia to spark as well. 6 bandmembers strolled on-stage with horns in their hands - 5 trumpets and a saxaphone. They each blew their pieces into microphones and together blarred harmoniously, causing a brilliant soothing sound. We knew the show had begun. Thereafter, the main architects of the group, Brendan Canning & Kevin Drew, walked on stage with the rest of the crew, and immediately broke into the fantastic and familiar “KC Accidental“.
Broken Social Scene is based out of Toronto and now consists of a total of 17 members. Some are from other Canadian indie bands like Stars, Metric, Do Make Say Think, and Apostle of Hustle. As far as touring goes, there are normally 10-12 of them on hand. I counted 13: 4 guitarists, 1 bassist, 1 violinist, 5 with brass in hand, and 1 drummer (2 at times, when a trumpeter decided to catch his breath).
The beautiful thing about BSS is they are everchanging. There are no boundaries, structures, certainties, confines. Musicians walk on and off stage during songs, suddenly strumming, blowing, singing or disappearing. They are experimental, psychadelic, soft and mellow at times, loud and fuzzy almost always, melodic yet noisy overall.
Drums beat furiously and crash against a melange of orchestration
and their definitive sound finds its way somewhere between majestical and cacophonous. Kevin Drew described the latest album to Nic Harcourt as, “A big beautiful mess, which represents the idea of who we are.”
Plenty of songs were played off of their 2002 release, You Forgot It in People. When the song “Stars and Sons” came into effect, the crowd immediately knew when to begin the steady-quick clap that breaks its way in a quarter through the track. Other songs performed off that album, included “Anthems for a Seventeen year-old girl”, which hit me pleasantly by surprise, sung by Lisa Lobsinger. “Cause=Time” was absolutely brilliant and really had me bobbing my head and wanting to move around.
And they all want to love the cause. ‘Cause they all need to be the cause. They all want to fuck the cause.
Feist came back for the latter half of the show and performed the new songs along with the 13 others. These included “Bandwitch”, “Ibi dreams of Pavement (A Better Day)”, “7/4 (Shoreline)”, and “Major Label Debut”. These tracks truly rocked with her reappearance, hypnotic voice, and enlivening energy.
After briefly introducing all present members (and fill-ins), Kevin tells the crowd that he wants to make this into a dance party. He’s had a vision in his head that San Francisco could pull this off at an indie rock show. To paraphrase, he says “Just lose yourself for 3 minutes, 52 seconds and then you can go back to whatever it is that’s holding you back.” Suddenly, Madonna’s “Ray of Light” kicks into it’s techno beat, catching a sea of hipsters by surprise, as Kevin is semi-grooving to this commercial beat on-stage. Thirty seconds later, Kevin stops, everyone laughs, and Justin Peroff (drummer) kicks a fresh beat, followed by a dopely, recognizable baseline, and everyone knew it was track 9 (”Hotel”) from the new album. The sea of bodies gently sway and move their bodies to the beat. The sound has instigated the crowd to move about in oscillation - not enough to leave the world of self-consciousness, but just enough to not feel so rigid for such an unscrupulous rock group.
As my homie Mario pointed out, the end of the show dragged a bit and the finale was a bit disappointing. But Kevin and Feist did a sensational job performing the Jeff Buckley-esque song “Lover’s Spit”, and engaging in a nice, slow dance as pure instrumentation extended the track further. All in all, a fantastic show. It can be a dissapointment when a group is tragic performing live. But it’s an incredible experience, when they can provoke the listener/viewer to understand their concept further, appreciate the magnitude of their ability, and like them for the people they are.
And to listen to their phenomenal post-rock debut Feel Good Lost, check here.
All these people drinking lover’s spit
They sit around and clean their face with it
And they listen to teeth to learn how to quit
tied to a night they never met
[Listening to Death Cab for Cutie - The Stability EP]
On a weekly basis, I hop on the highway 24 to escape the mundane, bland, commercial suburban culture. Even after all these years, there’s a point in the journey that doesn’t cease to lose it’s thrill, awe, and impressiveness. It’s the titillation generated by wondering what the visibility will be like after passing through Caldecott Tunnel. The Caldecott connects Contra Costa County to Oakland and it’s also the route taken to reach San Francisco from the greater East Bay Area.
There’s definitely places and states that receive a further degree of extremity in regards to annual weather. I know mid-western states like Iowa move from below-zero (minus 50 to 70 with wind) snow-bound conditions to sultry humid temperatures during the course of the year.
But I don’t think there are many places we can speak of, where the current temperature can drastically differentiate with a twenty minute drive. I’m talking about a mere twenty mile expanse within the San Francisco Bay Area. “The City” as all Bay Area dwellers know San Francisco has a very mild summertime warmth compared with the rest of United States. It even gets quite chilly on numerous occassions from June to August and rarely is there an evening where a second layer isn’t necessary. I think we’ve all heard that Mark Twain quote a hundred times.
In a letter, he also wrote:
San Francisco is a city of startling events. Happy is the man whose destiny it is to gather them up and record them in a daily newspaper! That sense of conferring benefit, profit and innocent pleasure upon one’s fellow-creatures which is so cheering, so calmly blissful to the plodding pilgrim here below, is his, every day in the year. When he gets up in the morning he can do as old Franklin did, and say, “This day, and all days, shall be unselfishly devoted to the good of my fellow-creatures–to the amelioration of their condition–to the conferring of happiness upon them–to the storing of their minds with wisdom which shall fit them for their struggle with the hard world, here, and for the enjoyment of a glad eternity hereafter. And thus striving, so shall I be blessed!”
My hometown suburb of Walnut Creek rests twenty to thirty minutes directly east of the city. It’s fascinated me that even this short distance provides such a radical difference in living. When a heat wave brings scorching temperatures exceeding 100 degrees, the city stays at a lovely, moderate 75-80.
In a letter I recently wrote to my Uncle Samir( a mentor and part of the last breed of hand-written letter scribblers):
I would like to think that I live for the moment, but the truth is that I’m constantly looking at the horizon ahead, and not enjoying the place where my feet are currently planted. From the East Bay Area, where the swelter has been igniting. From this suburb called Walnut Creek, where corporate-burnt Starbucks Coffee, yuppified couples in SUVs, million dollar homes without any character, and upscale/useless retail stores reign supreme. It’s on the outskirts, that I sit atop the hills of Berkeley, gazing at the 2 bridges - Bay & Golden Gate. The Pyramid Building, Coit Tower, Alcatraz island all brilliantly distinguishable. I know the independent cafes (all with their own creative motif) in the Little Italy of North Beach, the countless enclaves of culture interspersed within the Mission District, and the numerous other communities of beauty in San Francisco. A city stretched only seven miles in length, but with more culture, diversity, political awareness, and depth than any other city in the States. Not because of the weather, but for the culture and people I need to be in this city. Since Walnut Creek has alwasy been predominantly Caucasian and middle to upper class, it doesn’t seem like gentrication has much room to navigate - the bourgeousie and corporations are simply in a process of further “beautification” - using the worker’s for a little more elbow grease (to give the town more shine and pretentiousness).
Vikrum and I were at Cafe Coffee Day in Bandra in early June, the day before I left to Singapore. Of course, like any two normal human beings we acknowledged our mutual envy for our situations. I was jealous that Vikrum was staying in Bombay for such a long time, learning Hindi and working. And he was jealous that I was going home to California’s progressive women and liberal society. We were discussing what I was looking forward to upon arrival and Vikrum asked, “Aren’t you looking forward to driving fast on the highway with your music on full blast?”
Indeed. I think that many can testify to the enjoyment of driving a vehicle with the tunes at high decibels and the windows resting below the elbows. I can’t help but feel sorrow for those with the a/c cranked up and the stereo cranked down.
Upon exit from the Caldecott, one is surrounded on the left and right by the hills of Berkeley and the palatial houses rebuilt after their previous lives were incinerated in the Oakland Hills Fire. With a curvacious decline, one’s car just glides along the turns. It’s exhilarating to think of the copious options to choose from after the tunnel: cruising past the Claremont Hotel onto Ashby Avenue, taking Telegraph or College Ave. into Downtown Berkeley , swinging around the 13 into Piedmont, or continuing on towards the impressive Bay Bridge.
The exhilaration caused by wondering what brilliant pocket of culture to explore today. It’s why I love the Bay baby.
In the start of my incline towards social ineptitude, I left San Diego and hit the I5 around noon. It was a blissful Saturday and I felt almost irate that I wasn’t flocking to the sand with 90% of Southern California that afternoon. But rather than add any more shades to my brown skin, beers to my belly, and superficiality to my mentality, I would find an alternative method to enjoy the cystal clear skies, beaming sunshine, and altogether flawless day. It would be because of a German musician named Ulrich Schnauss.
After possessing only three tracks, but loving their continual introspective exhilaration, I finally got the album (A Strangely Isolated Place) in it’s entirety from my homie Alex. I think the album title speaks for itself, for it is to be listened, disected, diagnosed, and digested by the solo being. And even better, by the “solo-wandering-traveler-being.”
The i5 is a freeway that runs from the US/Mexico border in San Diego, through California, Oregon, and Washington, and ends at the US/Canadian border. Many would attest this freeway as being incredibly boring with nothing but flat farmland for the eyes to gaze upon. I would normally agree with this observation, too.
But not on this auspiciously-felt day. With the windows down & wind blowing in my face, Ulrich “singing”, golden hills radiating in the distance, light blue stretched across into the horizon, and an abundance of thoughts to sift through - What was the cause of unhappiness during this trip to SoCal? Why was I having so much trouble interacting? What were my next steps going to be in my future? As the hours rolled by, I spotted the family of windmills that inhabit the fields near the 580 interchange. They are truly a magnificent site because of their aesthetic quality and because they mean that less than an hour remains in before I pull up home to my driveway in Walnut Creek.
I just came across this music map - People who listen to Ulrich Schnauss also listen to blank.
Ryan Potts of Pop Matter’s writes:
The eight tracks present on Isolated are each swathed in elated soundscapes that are also grounded with a dynamic use of rhythm and percussion, as well as an ardent sense of melodic finesse.
Chris Shaffer of RainyDawg writes:
When people wake up in the morning, especially after long periods of confusion, dysphoria, and general melancholy, they typically need something to get them back in line. Something to show them that it’s okay, and that people out there still give a shit.
It seems like people need to compare an emerging artist with another one. Possibly it’s an older, influential band or an artist of the same genre with a copycat style. I guess we do it with everything - food, film, friends, places. I dislike it in a way, but it helps to create an idea about something unknown, in relativity, to something/someone already established in our mind. We have to relate this to a past experience. I have read a dozen reviews of Decemberists being compared with Neutral Milk Hotel. I think it’s a fair comparison to say, but they’re really so different.
Critics like comparing Ulrich to Brian Eno, Boards of Canada, My Bloody Valentine. But even the man himself admits to the latter in an interview with the Montreal Mirror:
“I think [My Bloody Valentine guitarist/producer] Kevin Shields is basically the last person in popular music history so far to have really changed the sound of music. I mean, every music genre in the last 10 years, if you look very closely, has something in it that you could trace back to My Bloody Valentine. I don’t think there’s any other musician on the planet of whom that can be said.”
My homie Gabe told me recently that he isn’t into too much new stuff. He’s gone back to the likes of Pavement, Neutral Milk Hotel, and My Bloody Valentine - bands that brand what he likes to refer to as the “lo-fi aesthetic.” I’m working on trying to capture the beauty of these bands.
Aaron Rietz, of Prefix magazine writes:
Schnauss’s best moments brandish an epiphanous flair, a feeling akin to Platonic revelation, escaping the limiting and familiar confines of the cave.
I think it’s the anecdote to a feeling of disgruntled disenchantment, causing an intertwining of melancholy gaze and perennial happiness.
So get in your car, drive off into the day or night, and into a stangely isolated place.
