first off, Wolf Parade, "Apologies To the Queen Mary."
I really wanted to hate this album. I just started listening to it now, mostly out of avoidance. What's not to hate? another wolf band, pretentious debut album title, canadian, etc.
that was a different time.
this album is magnificent. superlatives abound. amazing, nice, good, etc. I really love this album. There is a moment in song no 2, titled, "modern world," where the downcast acoustic strummings invert to a subtle turnaround and the song moves into a murky resolution. The feeling of this moment is similar to the entirety of "A new job in a new town," by Bowie--hope and dread mix together like absinthe properly prepared. This subtle inversion rides out the rest of the song, from which the most memorable line is, "I'm not in love with the modern world." Yes! I'm not in love with modern world.
Tensions also abound when describing this moment. Most significantly is the interplay of the two vocalists and songwriters. From what I've read in interviews they don't write their songs together a la Lennon/McCartney but instead come to the group with more or less rough ideas to be worked out. The two singers have quite different vocal styles, but I haven't yet discerned distinct musical patterns between the two. Perhaps the one guy has more hooky, keyboard bouncy melodies and the other guy tends to more driving, guitar shakers.
The one guy sounds kind of like a lot of other people right now--namely, the dude from Arcade Fire, the dude from the Islands, Elliot Smith pissed off, Bright Eyes loud, or anyone else who is pushing their vocals to the upper reaches of their register without going into falsetto. I think this is related to a native american thing I heard about on KVSC once--the natives would push their vocals as high as they could go and loud too but never a falsetto. The natives did not have a concept of falsetto, just as they could not see the ships.
the other guy sounds like Kurt Cobain, straight up. Who else does he sound like? everyone? no one? In my mind, the Cobain guy is the superior singer. He is the one that sounds like a natural, the one that sounds like he could stand up outside of a studio. The other guy, let's call him "indie" because he sounds like a bunch of other pop. indie dudes right now, seems like maybe he needs more "studio" help to pull it off. What I've seen on Youtube of their live performances seems to corroborate this:
"indie:"
"cobain dude:"
ok, so both vids have shitty sound, but hopefully you get my point--the cobain guy has a better natural voice. In the studio vocalists often double-record the vocal track, singing the same melody on top of their own vocal. This "doubling up" is called 'malting,' I think, and it seems the "indie" dude benefits greatly from this when comparing studio to performance. don't get me wrong--I don't care about any of this shit. Wolf Parade is an album band and we shouldn't judge them based on live performance. However, beyond live/natural talent, I feel the "cobain" dude has a more interesting voice, more unique, more emotionally arresting, and more difficult to pull off.
beyond comparisons of their timbre, I think the cobain dude also has an edge in the lyrics dept. from him:
"I keep my head up tight/ I make my plays at night/ and I don't sleep I don't sleep I don't sleep til it's light."
"Sometimes they rock and roll/ I'd rather stay at home in real life/ This heart's on fire." (that last line I think he says, "this song's over!" but the title of the song is "this heart's on fire.")
"It's getting better all the time!" (you have to hear it sung.)
"indie" also has incredible lyrics (Ben! I'm paying attention to lyrics! wow), but he loses this contest because of certain stinkers:
"give me your eyes/ I need the sunshine."
"there'll be no more dinnerbells!!!!"
"cause nobody loves you and nobody gives a damn."
If you've ever found yourself walking down the hall and singing these last three lines in your head, you've probably felt like a dumbass. That's because these lines are CORNY. However, the fact that we've had them in our head indicates they are at least catchy and the full truth is that they are pulled from brilliant songs--really really good fucking songs. so maybe we can excuse the corny-ness (we do) and just enjoy the moment (we do). The other side of it is that this guy, "indie," has some really terrific lyrics as well:
"I'll draw three figures on your heart One of them will be me as a boy One of them will be me One of them will be me watching you run watching you run Into the high noon sun"
"Now we'll say it's in God's hands But God doesn't always have the best goddamn plans, does he?
I can't believe in the guns I can't believe in the view
I sing, sing Lalalalalala"
ok so those are really great line if you hear the songs (I don't know if they stand up as poety--not my field), so perhaps this guy is the better vocalist?
Point is, this album is fantastic--there's not a stinker in the bunch. through and through each song is interesting and emotional and contemporary.
Next: Arcade Fire, "Funeral." I realize these guys just put out a new album, and I have not heard it yet. I just got around to their debut LP. Funeral is a terrific album. I do not think it stands up to Wolf Parade. The comparison is apt, as both are canadian and heartfelt. To me, it seems that ARcade Fire requires a greater suspension of disbelief. Funeral is a terrific album, but it's not as consistent as "Apologies." Basically, "funeral" is 4 incredible, amazing songs and several good songs and one unbearable song (the last one). The last one is sung by a woman and Wolf Parade has no women in their ranks. What is the conclusion? I hate women. They ruin indie albums. Just kidding I love women. Woman! my woman. her name is molly. I love her. but goddamn that chick from arcade fire is annoying.
"ooh, let's get the hurdy gurdy, I was classically trained!"
there's something annoying about Arcade Fire. But those four songs on that album, the amazing ones, are truly amazing. it's like these pretentious assholes who know some instrumentology got together and put a bunch of coal up their collective pretentiously-talented ass--guess what? They got some diamonds, in the words of ferris bueller. they got some beautiful fucking gems--crystals really--of pop songs. but seriously, I bet they're jerks.
Next, sonic youth. no album, just them--in general. they are number one. They are my new number one, replacing the beatles (who replaced dave matthews, so don't take too much stock). sonic youth
basically
is the shit.
now, some notes on that:
the thing about sonic youth is that they cannot be replicated. It's not like... "knockin on heaven's door," or Bach. With that shit, you can play it on any instrument, during any time, and it sounds fucking sweet. not so with sonic youth. only sonic youth can play sonic youth. trust me, I've tried to cover them and it sucks. generally they don't write very good songs. sometimes they hit a really great melody--"the diamond sea," "the empty page," and "do you believe in rapture?" come to mind. but mostly, sonic youth excel at being sonic youth.
something I've recently discovered that shed light on this aspect is the fact that they use some pretty fucked up tunings. sonic youth songs run the gamut of tunings, most of them made up from band members. not uncommon is a guitar strung with only 3 differnt strings, doubly strung. for example, one tuning involves DDF#F#CC using only 3 differnt guages. they have guitars that they gear up to play for only one song--several instances of these. in fact, they had their gear trailer raided a few years ago (molly told me this before I was in to sonic youth) and it was considered devastating. most bands would just think, 'ok, we need some new guitars.' do you get my point?
with sonic youth, form is content. you need thurston's voice, lee's one guitar, the amps, the drums, kim, all of it to get a sonic youth song. a cover version will probably only ever be an ironic homage. the cannot be replicated.
beyond that, their sound is killer. something about squelching sonic death noise, the dissonance of silver buddhas and ice dragons, indicates a contemporary order of logic ('the cultural logic of late capitalism?). in other words, sonic youth is one of the only things that makes sense anymore. this was driven home to me while listening to sonic nurse while living in amsterdam, cicone youth while in a bus to london, and daydream nation during my first semester of teaching. it only becomes more re-enforced. here is an example that cannot possibly convey what I'm talking about (sonic youth as 40-year-old professionals, diluted to a concentrating of 1000%, doiing their thing in the mainstream i.e. "approachable):
the expedition to the needle part two was a success--smashingly so. we got out there much earlier than when molly and I hiked it and we made far fewer wrong decisions. All told, we achieved the summit in 5 hours and made it back down in 4. The way back down we ran in to some treachorous navigating alongside the grey emminence. there is one small knoll that you must take care to ascend, lest you be funneled into a canyon of pure choss. we missed the knoll and had to hike back out of the choss canyon and then scramble around looking for our connection. we finally got it.
this is a photo from about the midway point. we stopped here and had a light lunch of rabbits and moss at about 10 am. from here the summit and the rest of the route are directly in front of your face. I like the different looks on people's faces as they contemplate the remaining 1300 vertical feet.
this photo shows my coworkers at different stages of the crux. as you can see, the crux is not all that difficult, but it does involve some actual rock climbing. it's like a rock ladder, but it's only as long as what's in this photo.
this is the triumphal death leap of summitude that we all experienced a'top the needle.
it was a beautiful day and we were all deliriously tired when we got back to the jeep. we downed two pitchers at high desert shortly there after, and I think these were some of the silliest, most strung out beers I've ever had.
><><><
last night we got our tickets to san diego for the last weekend in march. seems like a fun trip, what with dwyer and tiff coming out and ari, hurt, miss, and frank already there. there's talk of a greaser two party.
I'm getting paid to do this right now. so I better go, in other words.
so. in the interest of full to disclosure to ye, my faithful blograds... I have herpes. specifically herpes of the face. it's something that lies dormant in the local nerve cells where it was originally aquired. In times of physical or emotional stress, the herpes soldiers valiantly flare up, producing yellow oozing sores that itch like hell. I believe my special case came from a hockey helmet purchased at Play It Again Sports! Probably some wrestler decided to quit hockey and sell all his stuff. The latest instant, just this week, I had a cut that became a zit and then came the telltale tingling of a "flare up." I feel like we're closer already.
I've gotten pretty good at dealing with this stuff. I think I originally got it when I was 13 or 14... in fact I think I got it like right before the first day of school one year (7th or 8th grade). I was completely mortified. That was the worst flare up I ever got. I didn't know what it was so I just itched the hell out of it... feels so good to itch. just itch it a little bit... NO! anyways you have to never touch your face, especially to itch it, and you must wash your hands a lot. there is a few different prescriptions and one over the counter called abreva that all work well. abreva costs $18 and it comes in a .000001 oz. container that you need a scanning electron microscope to operate. but when you have pus-filled sores on your face, you pay whatever the man asks. the herpes spot runs its course in a few days to a week, eventually turning into a scab and falling off your face without further ad-u.
so I'm not quite as prideful as I was in 7th grade, but I still got the urge to stay home from work when I got the flare up a few days ago. I'm also better at rationalizing these days, so I could say to myself, 'self, you don't want to risk giving it to the other kids. Yeah, you should stay home for their sake, not just because you're vain.' but I went to work anyways, and people of course were very nice and concerned about it all.
You see, in America, in english, we have a lovely phrase that helps people like me face reality whilst sore-ridden. That phrase is, "COLD SORE." Yes, say it with me now, "cold sore!"
"oh, joe, what the hell is wrong with your face?"
"oh, yeah, that. cold sore," I shrugged.
"oh..." they reply knowingly, not knowing at all what they're tacitly accepting. you see, the lovely phrase 'cold sore' allows me to gloss over a host of uncomfortable truths. first, it's HERPES. second, you have it for life; there is no cure. third, that lovely little unripe strawberry on my face is full of yellow juice that, if it touches you, gives you herpes... for life. 4th, it itches like hell and all I want to do right now is rip off my clothes, lay in my own filth, itch the hell out of my chin, and moan like a dog.
"yep, cold sore," I intone.
"mmm... cold sore. know about those! you poor thing." they chime.
where did this term come from? surely a group of embarrased herpes victims must have gotten together and cooked it up. surely it did not come from people actually getting herpes from the cold outside.
"hey, billy, put a hat on. You'll catch cold... and herpes."
next scene: "I have a cold sore. From the COLD."
"oh really, are you sure you don't want to call it a prostitute's ass-sore, cause you got it from a prostitute's ass?"
"no, really, it's a cold sore. we all decided."
only one student wasn't willing to drop it at 'cold sore.'
"eeww, joe, what's on your face?"
"oh, that--cold sore," shrugs I.
"what? a COLD SORE?! that's gross! isn't that HERPES?!!!!!"
"yeah, brandon why don't you fucking keep it down."
"why, that's what it is, isn't it? It's herpes. I don't mean to be mean but... that's what it is." Then I push him down and run out of the room crying.
What happens if I move to another country where they don't have a polite term for a lifelong, extremely contagious virus? Like, what if I move to China and they totally know what's up with Herpes and their term reflects their advanced knowledge. Like, what if they call cold sores "Weeping Face Dragon on Fire" (one character)?
"oh my god! it's a weeping face dragon on fire! why the fuck did you come to work today?"
"no, no, it's a 'cold sore.'" and I run out of the room crying.
I gotta go, it's time for another round of Abreva.
