I just got a promo-email from Astrud Rot advertising the posting of their brand new video (which only had 600 views when I watched it this morning). Typically, I wouldn’t pass something like this on, but I *really* enjoyed their Fringe show and I hope they do well on their upcoming tour.
So, with no further ado, here’s “Burger Store Dinosaur”:
My emotional states have been rather inconstant of late, with fairly notable swings from exuberant joie-de-vivre to phlegmatic maudlinness occurring within the space of a few hours. It is due, at least in part, to the recurrence of my insomnia, whose cause I have yet to pinpoint (I had thought that alcohol was the culprit, but subsequent experiments (with both abstinence and indulgence) have undermined that hypothesis).
Given that I find myself in one of these emotional troughs at present, I decided to try to do something creative with it and came up with the image below. It’s a (somewhat amateurish) impressionistic self-portrait, but I’m fairly happy with the results (though I might tweak a few of the elements). Feel free to click through and see a full-sized version. Similarly, I’ve been trying to get back to writing poetry, as there’s another slam coming up on the 14th (… and if I compete, I’ll need to try and reclaim my title). Anyway, I suppose it’s better to do something than nothing.
Anyway, the crew has assembled downstairs and are in need of their DM, so I’ve got to go. All the best, internet.
So, I’m trying (in my typically tentative fashion) to re-enter the dating pool, whose piranha-infested waters I am only compelled to brave due to a combination of yearning, social wanderlust, and the grim realizations that a) I’m not getting any younger, b) my lack of experience in this sphere is only going to get more and more galling to potential partners, and c) it is, in a social sense (and analogous to a spoonful of cod-liver oil), “good for me.” Trepidation aside, I’m actually kind of looking forward to it, as I have learned to derive a perverse sense of enjoyment from doing things that I’m not comfortable with. Personal growth as masochistic self-flagellation? Yes please!
In the short term (and perhaps not entirely realistically), I’d like a date to bring to Silence is Golden – an upcoming showing of Fritz Lang’s silent classic Metropolis (which I’ve wanted to see forever) accompanied by a 20-piece contingent from our local symphony orchestra. Even though the show is on Saturday (which doesn’t give me much time), I’m kind of tempted to pick up two tickets, just to light a bit of a fire under myself. Hmmm. If anything comes of this plan, you’ll be the first to know, dear reader.
In the longer term, I realize that I’m not actually looking for that much (at present). I’m leaving town soon, which places some finite (temporal) boundaries on any romantic potentialities… So basically I’m looking for someone that I find interesting and attractive, who I enjoy thinking about, who I can cook supper for, and who I can cuddle (and/or make out) with. Once again: hmmm. We’ll see, I suppose. At worst, I do have every confidence that I’ll meet any number of eligible ladies when I finally get down east, but that is many months from now…
It’s funny that it feels so weird for me to acknowledge these sorts of feelings… I’ve always had such a goal-directed approach to relationships (barring, of course, my rather extended flirtation with non-self-critical romantic complacency) that just admitting that I’d be pretty okay with a shorter-term, “now-centered” romantic involvement seems wrong (or at least highly uncharacteristic)… I am unsure of whether this is a sign of desperation or maturity (or both?).
[As an aside, the post's title is an allusion to Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, whose (irritating) child star, whose poorly-written one-liners included the eminently-quotable, "No time for love, Dr. Jones." Bah!]
Edit: If you find yourself in a similar mental state to the one that spawned the above post, I heartily recommend listening to Ra Ra Riot’s The Rhumb Line (especially “Can You Tell”) and the Mates of State’s Bring It Back. Neither will make you feel any better!
So, as many of you know, my crew and I often convene to play D&D, which we basically use as a rules-bound vector for directing collaborative storytelling. This is aided by the fact that each adventure that we are currently running takes place in a single, persistent world (whose initial design can be credited to the talented and lovely reberk), as this basically means that each of our stories weaves together elements from a large-scale mythology that we’ve been jointly developing for the last couple of years. I must admit, it’s a pretty engaging creative project.
Anyway, last week, Mr. Keith proposed an experiment building upon this foundation, wherein he told the following story in an email and suggested that we build upon it. Where he left off, my character (Brother Cornelius) was in the midst of an out-of-body experience and was drifting towards a large, stone fortress. As a bit of background, BC was originally a mendicant friar in the service of The Order (a large-scale religious organization), who had since suffered a crisis of faith, only to be contacted by some sort of mysterious extra-planar being… Regardless, Andrew solicited responses to his story and I wrote the following. I post it here because I’m reasonably pleased with it (especially given that I basically wrote it up in 20 minutes before heading off to class). It could be that I need to take more time to do creative writing. As an aside, if you have any comments or critiques, please let me know… It’s the only way to improve!
As Cornelius’ incorporeal form wafts through the air, buffeted by scarcely-perceived aetherial currents, his attention – and as an aside, a single attentional point is all that remains of him, as he had somehow misplaced his body along this spiritual journey – is captured by the craggy fortress below. Directing his focus downward, he sees the weathered battlement walls slip past beneath feet, revealing the large open commons within the heart of the Krak des Chevaliers. As he drifts slightly downwards, he sees that this public square, ensconced by the seemingly impenetrable fortress, is currently the site of a wild revel. The air is thick with smoke from various cooking fires, as well as the lusty songs, shouts and ululations of a party in full swing. In the (geographical, if not practical) center of the gathering, an old ragged woman stands, obviously drunk, listing and heaving in an attempt to maintain her balance, and singing loudly in a language that Cornelius does not recognize.
When he focuses upon this woman, his view of the scene shifts abruptly – as it does when one realizes that an enormous distant object is actually tiny and close. Rather than seeing her toppling gait as the senseless gyrations of a drunkard, he reinterprets them as an elaborate dance, and her (likely bawdy) lyrics are transformed into a wordless hymn. The capering revelers below are similarly transfigured: their seemingly aimless movements can be seen as evidence of a subtle, previously unseen pattern – a whorl of movement centered on this woman. Even the smoke of the cooking fires helix upward into a single spire over her head. Casting his attention outward, he sees that the fields of prairie grasses outside of the Krak, as well as the clouds overhead, are all rippling inward towards this vortex. Drawn by its inexorable force, Cornelius’ incorporeal form is pulled toward this spiraling nexus of unseen energy.
When he reaches the twisted column of smoke, the old crone below (her eyes mad with the drink) casts her gaze upward and bellows exultantly. At this same instant, the clouds overhead (which had been blanketing the sky) part, allowing the passage of a single, brilliant shaft of light, which engulfs and blinds Cornelius. Utterly surrounded by this glowing whiteness, the friar begins to hear a deafening sound – a combination of the arhythmic crackle of a burning fire, the crunching of glass under foot, and the whistling of a winter wind. Were he himself, the friar would have been terrified, but in his present state (which was somehow simultaneously more and less real than his everyday life) he simply allowed these sensations to wash over him. After a time, he started to realize that a subtle pattern could be detected here as well, buried within the torrent of white noise… he realized that he was eavesdropping on a message for
all living things – a simple refrain wordlessly urging growth, creativity, development, all couched in the wails and crackles of seemingly empty randomness.
Well, given that a new year has recently dawned, I figured that it was as good a time as any to post a Top 10 list. Whether or not they are any fun to read (which is for you to decide), I find that they provide a good opportunity to cogitate, synthesize and reflect on the topic under discussion (in this case, sweet tunes).The list that follows consists of selections drawn from the hundreds of albums I previewed over the year while preparing for my radio show, combined with the 100+ albums I downloaded from emusic in 2009, which, while in no way exhaustive, did constitute a reasonable sample size. That said, the best I can hope for in this list is that it provides a reasonable snapshot of my musical tastes at a particular point in time (namely, at the dawn of the “Tens” (a dreadful decade name, if ever I’ve heard one)).
You’ll note that the list is entitled “Top 10 Album Discoveries” rather than “Top 10 Albums.” The reason for this bit of nominal chicanery is that, in my solipsistic way, I am privileging my introduction to a band/album over the actual publication dates. Take that, objectivity!
Top 10 Album Discoveries of 2009
#10: Sparks – Hello Young Lovers
In this 2006 album, the brothers Mael (40 year veterans of the music biz) create a bizarre collage of musical styles. On one hand, many of the songs are cheesy, repetitive, or overly theatrical; on the other, I’ve found them utterly compelling… Even though I picked this album up in November, I’ve listened to it extensively (and have won reberk over to the cause in the process). For a good example of the bizarro-land musical range found on this disc, check out its closing track: As I Sit Down To Play the Organ at the Notre Dame Cathedral
#9: The Hylozoists – L’Île de Sept Villes
Described by Wikipedia as a “Canadian instrumental rock supergroup,” (I know, I am the *king* of research) the Hylozoists outdid themselves with this album. It contains a number of ambitious arrangements (composed for a wide and variegated selection of instruments), each of which could easily be imagined on the soundtrack to some sort of thoughtful, Oscar-fodder film. I like listening to this disc while either writing or walking around, because in both cases it makes me feel as if I’m doing something significant.
#8: A. C. Newman – Get Guilty
Over and above the album title (which obviously has personal resonances for me (yes, yes… laugh it up…)), I’ve really enjoyed this new disc by A. C. Newman (far more than his most recent output with the New Pornographers, as a matter of fact). Each song is a well-crafted little pop-rock gem. Exhibit A: Submarines of Stockholm.
#7: Sigur Ros – Med sud I eyrum vid spilum endalaust
If you know Sigur Ros, you would have no reason to question their inclusion in this list. (If you don’t, they’re a band whose sweeping orchestral arrangements and ethereal vocals have earned them a place on virtually every “I’m an intelligent, sensitive guy” mix ever.) Regardless, this album in particular is worthy of note due to the fact that it is more upbeat, varied and intriguing than many of their other releases. For example, check the opening track.
#6: Nôze – Songs on the Rocks
This French dance outfit somehow combines bourbon-burned, Tom Waitsian vocals with lively beats and precise instrumentation to create delicious (and rather addictive) sonic confections. When I first picked up this album in February, I listened to it extensively (most typically on my mp3 player), which led to more than one instance of me dancing along the street in wild abandon, totally oblivious to the perplexed stares of passing motorists. Remember Love!
#5: Kaada – Thank You For Giving Me Your Valuable Time
Norwegian sample magician Kaada’s first solo effort (released in 2003) plays like the 1950s / 60s in a blender (and that’s a good thing). I’ve definitely gotten my share of plays out of this disc, especially given that it serves well as accompaniment to studying / boardgaming.
#4: Bike for Three! – More Heart than Brains
This collaboration between Buck 65 and Joëlle Phuong Minh Lê shows that sometimes a whole can indeed be greater than the sum of its parts. Now, I’ve been a Buck 65 fan for years, but I think that his song-writing and delivery on this album rival the best of his solo work (especially due to its apparently more personal nature). Also, the electronic bleeps and bloops put forward by Ms. Lê vary considerably from the Buck 65 standard, which gives the whole work a substantially different (and highly enjoyable) feel. Listen, for example, to the Lazarus Phenomenon.
#3 – Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele – The Good Feeling Music of Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele
I love this album. It has an infectious retro-lounge vibe that I cannot get enough of… Given the amount that I listened to it at the time, it definitely constitutes my soundtrack to “Summer 2009″ (meaning that various songs summon fragmentary memories of walking downtown, preparing meals, and just cold chillin’). Finally, did I mention the fact that Dent May plays the ukulele? Because he does. And it’s awesome!
#2 – Grizzly Bear – Veckatimest
Given the critical acclaim (not to mention the popular sales) of this disc, I realize that I’m in no way alone in singing its praises. But, given my enjoyment of it, I couldn’t just ignore it (or downgrade it) out of some sort of misguided indie-snobbery. So there you go.
My favorite thing about Veckatimest is that each song fits into the album’s overall arc… There is simply no filler. While Two Weeks was my first “radio single” for this disc, I’m currently very taken by “All We Ask” (especially the coda).
#1: Why? – Alopecia
Every now and again, I’ll run into an artist whose songwriting just resonates for me… Though I can’t identify a specific trait of these artists, they all share a commitment to interesting imagery, visceral vocabulary, appreciation of the percussive quality of speech, and (in many cases) creative wordplay – characteristics that can be found in many of my favorite artists, including Tom Waits, Soul Coughing / Mike Doughty, and even the early work of MC Frontalot. The hooks of these songs, carefully built from scaffolds of concentrated language, implant themselves in my brain like tropical parasites, leaving me quietly mouthing their refrains for days (or even weeks) at a time.
Why’s 2008 album Alopecia had exactly this impact on me. Every now and again, segments from one of these tracks will dislodge itself from my cerebellum and I’ll find myself singing “since I’m alive … I’ll feel alive” or “Yours is a funeral I’d fly to from anywhere.” Though I could imagine Jonathan Wolf’s nasal voice, his indie-rap delivery or his at-times-crass lyrics being objectionable to some, they just work for me. This is my top album discovery of 2009.
Honorable Mentions (in alphabetical order)
Chiptunes from a hacked Nintendo, plus guitar and drums… What’s not to like? My only problem with this album is that it couldn’t live up to the standard set by Blackout City and Jetpack Blues, Sunset Hues (the first two tracks). (Note: I had the same problem with the Goretex Weather Report, the first cut from Shining’s 2005 album In the Kingdom of Kitsch You Will Be a Monster… nothing can follow that!)
This glitchy techno album would not appeal to everybody (especially not my dad (who I’m pretty sure would categorize this in the “that’s not music” file)), but I got a kick out of it. In particular, I really enjoyed Paddling Ghost - a chipmunk-voiced piece of over-the-top digital alchemy that makes me smile every time I hear it.
Spacey rock music with some electronic squelches thrown in for good measure. I was a big fan of Keeper’s (the predecessor to this album) and I was in no way disappointed by the follow-up.
I’ve been a fan of Mike Doughty’s ever since I heard Ruby Vroom for the first time (which was around ten years ago now). That said, I’ve been hot and cold on some of his more recent releases, which often are equal parts inspired songwriting and unflattering arrangements. For this reason, Sad Man Happy Man is something of a revelation, as it represents a fusion between writing and music more consistent than anything since Skittish / Rockity Roll. Also, he has intoned my mantra for 2010: “Chase the mermaid. Chase, chase the mermaid.” Thank you Mr. Doughty. I think I shall.
The only thing that kept this album from my top 10 was the inclusion of a few tracks that really should have been left on the cutting room floor (“Year of the Dog” and “How to Fuck a Republican,” if you must know).
An enjoyable release from these Swedish rockers, though it lacks the dynamism of Ta Det Lugnt (their excellent 2004 album). That said, if you’re in the mood to chill out, you can do much worse than this disc in the background (for example, check out “Det Tar Tid“).
An enjoyable orchestral pop album. I have nothing else to say about it!
I love Indian music! Though I’ve picked up quite a few Bollywood soundtracks this year, this one (and, in particular, its first track) has really stuck with me.
This album got a lot of play on CFCR when it came out. I remember talking with Brian (then the station manager) about it and we decided that this album represented the fact that indie kids were finally done moping and ready to start dancing.
My (not) secret music crush! Alice Russell has a killer voice and she puts it to good use on Pot of Gold. As an aside, you should definitely see her live if you get the chance… seeing that voice coming out of an adorable little British lady is worth the price of admission.
This gravel-voiced Crash Test Dummies-alum has put out a bunch of catchy tunes that combine his idiosyncratic vocals with electronic beats, background singers, and traditional instrumentation (harmonica, bass, guitar) . I’m a sucker for this kind of thing.
This album was something of a critical darling when it came out in 2008, but I didn’t end up picking it up until this year… I have to admit, it lived up to the hype!
Well-known Canadian weirdo Wax Mannequin has put out what I think is his most consistently enjoyable album yet in 2009. Here’s my radio single: Pieces of Bird.
Things are good.
Here is a list:
As much as I have been a bit wistful of late (there are times in a person’s life when it would be really nice to be held (sigh)) (note: by “a person,” I mean “me,” in case that wasn’t clear), it is still the case that I’m tremendously fortunate to be where I am right now. Even if I don’t meet someone before I leave town (which might be just as well, logistically speaking), I have every confidence that my time will nonetheless be full to brimming with wonder.
Thanks to everyone that helps to make this possible!
Well, 2010 looks a lot like 2009… right down to the fact that our elected leaders are shirking their duties again.
I can’t believe it’s been so long since my last update, as I have no idea where the time has gone. I definitely entered some sort of a post-holiday funk, likely caused by withdrawal (both emotional (from the cessation of concentrated family time) and physical (from returning to a more normal daily caloric intake)), and am just now regaining my equanimity. The next steps will be to become more physically active and to start getting more sleep…
I’m back to ballroom and teaching again, the first of which is unilaterally awesome and the second of which has its moments… I need to concentrate more energy on the latter, but I’ve been somewhat preoccupied with getting my grad school applications in. Oh well… that pressure will be relieved by the end of the week, which will free up my schedule somewhat.
Also, the Trifecta is now hosting a radio program: How I Spent My Summer Vacation, which provides us a platform from which to discuss games of all sorts. It’s pretty exciting! The boys and I have pretty good conversational chemistry, so the show has a natural flow, and it’s nice to have the opportunity to discuss a topic that I find compelling. So far, we’ve followed the lead of every online news outlet and done retrospectives of our top game choices for the last decade. The results, if you’re interested, are as follows:
Tabletop Games (2000-2004)
Video Games (2000-2004)
Tabletop Games (2005-2009)
Video Games (2005-2009)
Depending on what you (gentle reader) are in the mood for perusing, you should probably know that this is going to be one of those reflective, self-analytical posts (as you may have been able to surmise from its title). Read on at your discretion, knowing that there will be no mention of reindeer, fruitcake or jolly bearded elves (minus the ones in this sentence, of course).
In brief, I’m thinking about fixing my brain. Here’s why: a while ago, I noticed that my inner narratives have gotten somewhat more negative as of late – a tendency that is manifesting itself in various related ways. Example 1: Even though I have put on a few pounds, my body image has become incommensurately more negative, to the extent that I often avoid looking in mirrors when in the washroom… At times, I can go for days without more than a cursory glance at my reflection (which helps explain the prevalence of mustard stains on my clothing and raspberry seeds in my teeth). This is unhelpful at a time when I’m feeling somewhat lonely, as I (without melodrama) have a legitimately hard time imagining anyone but the most lumpen proletarian being attracted to me. (Note: this is a bit of hyperbole, representing my self-image when it is at its nadir… as with other mental phenomena, it actually varies quite a bit from day to day.) Example 2: I have also been questioning my intellect of late, which is quite psychically taxing given that I have always strongly identified myself with my capacity for creativity, curiosity and critical inquiry. More specifically, I’ve noticed that a disturbing (and entirely unhelpful) refrain has been added to my chorus of stock mental responses: “Huh… I bet I couldn’t do that.” The context for this is my still undiagnosed neurological condition (described here (among other places)), which I sometimes hypothesize is caused by some sort of progressive demyelination. As a result, when confronted by some evidence of mental prowess (such as memorizing large numbers, performing quick mental computations, learning new languages, clearly visualizing complex shapes, improvising clever dialogue, etc.), my first response is to assume that a) I could have done that at one point in time, and b) that I no longer could, due to the decline of my faculties. In both cases, there might be a kernel of truth to my concerns, but I think that any positive effects of this accuracy are entirely undermined by the negative effects that it has on my outlook and expectations.
Here’s the thing: this line of communication is utterly self-defeating, as it undermines my very concept of self. If I ever get so concerned about my (purportedly) declining faculties that I refuse to try new things, then I will stagnate and my faculties actually will decline in their utility. If I believe these things about myself then they, in a very real way, are true… or at least they are as true as anything that we know (or think we know) about ourselves. We are just stories that we tell ourselves about ourselves… and if I allow my personal narrative to become co-opted by negativity, I am functionally undercutting myself. The connection between self and story is described compellingly in Jerome Bruner’s article “Self-Making Narratives” (which I strongly recommend):
There is no such thing as an intuitively obvious and essential self to know, one that just sits there to be portrayed in words. Rather, we constantly construct and reconstruct a self to meet the needs of the situations we encounter, and do so with the guidance of our memories of the past and our hopes and fears for the future. Telling oneself about oneself is rather like making up a story about who and what we are, what has happened, and why we are doing what we are doing (210).
I feel like I broken machine, my cogs clicking, slipping and failing to engage. I’m just so tired… I want to lay down and wake up again an entire day later. Maybe then I’d feel like myself again.
Right now, I’m in the house where I grew up, hiding in the computer room as a group of carolers (including my bro, his lady friend, and my parents) assemble. Even though I was worried about disappointing my folks (which stressed me out for a few days), I knew that I couldn’t in good conscience go with them. I know that they’re going out to spread some joy, but I just couldn’t bring myself to sing those songs… to say words that I abjectly disagree with… Put simply, it would make me feel like an utter hypocrite.
On the bus ride here, Aaron asked me if I’d have similar issues being involved in a Hanukkah celebration. I wouldn’t. I could sit in on a Passover seder, celebrate Diwali, enjoy a post-Ramadan feast, or burn paper money for the stove god. I don’t ascribe to any of those belief systems either, but they are utterly separate from me, so I have no problem stepping back and seeing them anthropologically. Christianity, on the other hand, has caused me so much pain and torment that I can’t do that… I find all religious beliefs equally incredible (in the sense that, by Ockham’s razor, they are all equally unlikely), but with Christianity, it’s personal. I don’t just disbelieve it, I abhor it. (Note: this is one of the reasons that I need to get out of Saskatoon: I could not seriously date a Christian (not even so much for me, but rather because I wouldn’t want to expose my hypothetical future children to this belief system until their critical faculties were well enough developed to deal with it). This is one more reason that the siren song of the more culturally diverse East sounds loudly for me.)
On a similar note, I recently saw the Lars von Trier film Antichrist (which, in my opinion, is one of the most profoundly offensive and misogynistic pieces of cinema ever created), and had a deep-seated, viscerally negative response to it. In brief, the film is a fable with the following premises: sex is a profound source of evil; this evil is situated predominantly in women (who use it to ensnare and ruin men); and, returning to paradise is only possible if the evil of woman is banished. Talking about the movie afterwards, I was utterly unsurprised to discover that the director, who had been raised by atheistic sex-positive hippies, had converted to Roman Catholicism in his adulthood. Even if this were not true, I know that my negative response would have remained… not only because the moral of this story is so repugnant, but also because it is part of the life-denying, anti-humanistic worldview that has characterized Christianity since its inception. This is a religion, after all, that inspired some of its founding theologians to castrate themselves due to their utter disdain for human sexuality. I know that some (in fact *many*) Christians have found ways to distance themselves from this part of the message, but it is a relatively central teaching, especially in the conservative version(s) of Christianity that have become popular in Canada.
Anyway, it should be noted that everyone was very understanding about my decision not to participate (which is unsurprising, given that my entire family is super awesome)… It’s one more testament to the fact that my philosophy of interpersonal honesty (which was largely informed by conversations with mr. keith) seems to be the best path in virtually all social situations. I just wish I’d brought it up sooner instead of having stewed about it for a few days… If I’d just treated everyone (myself included) like a grownup, I could have that time back…
Oh well… live and learn.
Uncategorized (the end of the week was kind of a blur)
scalding bath water
tingles and stings against my
chafed wind-burned legs
darkened morn and eve
a windowless cubicle
perpetual twilight
I have a weak chin…
new haircuts make me look like
an old lesbian
i wake refreshed… a
shockingly untraumatic
sexual dream… weird!
