rattle and hmmm

attempting some cool things…

wish. me. luck.

Organismo

the beats, the stick twirls, tossing overhead, clicking and clacking and flinching when they came too close

after 7

gotta get home. and then they were in the car and he said “what you doin’ tonight?” and i said “oh, we have a lot going on”

except we didn’t, and after we’d agreed to ditch all structure, i figured, “why not?”

so we left a message with their neighbors, everyone suspicious of my light skin, as always,

and sped off home for JUMBO meatballs, potatoes, salad, and garlic bread (which was all he ate – 3 pieces for a 6 year old!) and then football, soccer, dancing,

and just easy, organic hanging out

on a Thursday.

On the South, its Themes, and Why we Love the Music we do

Papa died smiling
Wide as the ring of a bell
Gone all star white
Small as a wish in a well
And Sodom, South Georgia
Woke like a tree full of bees
Buried in Christmas
Bows and a blanket of weeds

— from “Sodom, South Georgia” by Iron & Wine

Southern Comfort: The Language of The Music We Love

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

For whatever reason, the above video and lyrics (from Cold War Kids’ “Saint John,” and Iron & Wine’s “Sodom, South Georgia,” respectively) represent a wicked infatuation I have with the South — its imagery, themes, history, values, architecture, lifestyle, music and people.

Particularly in music, I gravitate towards the grit and grime that evokes an old era of an ancient part of this country. The Black Keys and Alex Dupree are particularly fond of painting their songs with the broad strokes of southern culture, as are more mainstream groups like Dave Matthews Band.

And I can’t get enough of it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When I visited Charleston, South Carolina a few years ago I think it became the most beautiful city I’d ever seen. The historic district is simply astounding. There’s such beauty in the ancient architecture of the South, such a history of agrarian society. Though it is deeply tainted, it remains such a fully developed, self-enveloping kind of culture.

Music that employs the imagery or sound (or both) of the South continues to mesmerize me. “Church House Steps” by Ben Harper is driven by the dark, gravelly voices of the Blind Boys of Alabama. With organ-driven blues they reminisce about the region’s millions of churches and invoke its religious entrenchment, which at times was a grave enabler to the crimes of the last three centuries.

It’s no doubt that both the lyrics and the style affect me — songs that hop a train and venture through the entire countryside with banjos, grungy guitars, sloppy cymbals, powerful slide-work and hammering vocals seem to immerse me in a culture that once was. Or perhaps never even existed other than in song.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

But which matters more? Lyric or Music? This has fascinated me for a long time.

Would we love a song as much if its lyrics drew on imagery that didn’t connect with us?

Would “Louisiana Bayou” be the same if the words and sound didn’t match so perfectly? In other words, as a general rule, would listeners be as prone to fall in love with a song as quickly if the two didn’t match up?

We make excuses for songs that preach things we don’t agree with because we simply love the beat, hook, or evocation. Take Damien Rice’s “Woman Like a Man,” as graphically sexual as it is angry. But it’s haunting beauty, in acoustic guitars, cello, and sparse percussion, makes up for its abrasive language.

In the opposite way, language can keep us from liking things we might otherwise fall for. A lot of hip-hop is this way. It’s infectious and you start to move instinctively, and then you realize you’re jamming to a self-indulgent, gangsta celebrity singing “I’ve got 99 problems but a bitch ain’t one” and suddenly it’s ruined.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I think we’re all pretty hypocritical with what we choose to listen to and what we choose not to (and why), but does it matter? A love for music is a journey — we become infatuated with things we originally despised and lose our passion for styles that used to give us a high. Trying to write a rubric for why we love what we love and if we’re loving everything we should is impossible, pointless and pleasure-robbing to boot.

But it’s fun to notice the trends in our taste and try to trace them back to where they began.

For me, songs about the South and music that comes from its rich history probably began with Dave Matthews Band, the first group to pull me out of my metal days (Joey Jordison is still a badass on drums) of high school. Since then, artists like the aforementioned Iron & Wine continue to fuel my addiction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And therefore, my final exhibit, from Iron & Wine’s “Resurrection Fern:”

And when sister Lowery
says Amen,
we won’t hear anything
The ten-car train will take
that word,
that fledgling bird
And the fallen house
across the way
It’ll keep everything
The baby’s breath, our bravery
wasted and our shame

And we’ll undress beside the ashes
of the fire
Both our tender bellies
wound in baling wire
All the more pair of
under water pearls
Than the oak tree
and its resurrection fern

Indentured Servitude (i.e. Electronic Slavery)

it’s when a photograph like this
pops up, on a sidebar i rarely pay attention
to, that shows me, via a Kenyan man
i do not know,
a friend and his ukulele,
halfway across the world, that i feel
indebted to Facebook.

MEDIC!

Between the story our neighbor recently told us about doctors at Rush Hospital misdiagnosing her daughter as a burn victim (and not admitting the error when it was discovered) and this recent story on CNN where a girl, after years of suffering horrible stomach pain, diagnosed herself in science class (discovering an indication that she has Crohn’s disease on a slide of her own intestine, which pathologists had said looked normal), I’m developing a strong lack of respect for and trust in our country’s medical practitioners. Get it together.

WORKBENCH MAPPING

hi! this is from a for-fun project a while ago… it’s kinda like degrees of separation, kinda like a journey through music culture… whatever it is, i hope it’s fun to browse through.

WORKBENCH MAPPING

Jakob Dylan → Mark Mothersbaugh
[via:
Jeff Tweedy,
Danger Mouse,
Nancy Wilson,
Jack Johnson,
and David Bowie]

→ Jakob Dylan recently released his own folk album after calling it quits with the Wallflowers. While “Valley of the Low Sun” may not live up to tunes like “Like a Rolling Stone” the effort was more than a modest attempt at stripped-down, heartfelt songs.

→→ Obviously listeners will hard pressed to forget that Dylan is the son of a more legendary one. Bob Dylan’s “Blowin’ in the Wind,” as well as other prophetic, push-the-envelope songs, is inescapable when studying American History.

→→→ I can’t count on one hand how many films and documentaries have been made about the “free-wheelin’” Dylan, but last year’s I’m Not There probably had the most original soundtrack: Dylan tunes recorded by almost 30 other artists. Highlights: “Goin’ to Acapulco” by Jim James and Calexico and “Simple Twist of Fate” by Jeff Tweedy.

→→→→ Tweedy is the grizzled frontman for Chicago-based experimental rock group Wilco, whose song “Impossible Germany” I caught live at the Austin City Limits festival two years ago.

→→→→→ In addition to being home to such a renowned festival, Austin is also home to Alex Dupree and the Trapdoor Band, who recently released a Free EP, on which “Blood on the Motorway”—one of this year’s most compelling songs—appeared.

→→→→→→ Back to Austin City Limits, we happened to score tickets to the Paste after-party, which featured private performances by indie favorites Devotchka and the Decemberists. Two years before that, the Decemberists had again played ACL, after which a live version of “July, July” was released on a concert compilation CD.

→→→→→→→ A few stages away, or perhaps later on the same one, The Black Keys graced ACL with its hard-edged southern rock-‘n’-roll. “Set You Free” would follow “July, July” on the live album, but “All You Ever Wanted” is a better representation of their current sound.

→→→→→→→→ For The Black Key’s sophomore effort, producer and electronic wizard Danger Mouse was brought in, making Attack and Release a tremendous success. For more mainstream listeners Danger Mouse is perhaps not a household name, but Gnarls Barkley, his side (or main) project, certainly is. Their debut gave us the energizing sing-a-long “Crazy” and I’m happy to report that “Surprise” and “Going On” from their second is just as catchy.

→→→→→→→ Mixing genres is what Danger Mouse does best, as seen in his production choices. But nowhere is it so aptly displayed than in “Encore (Glass Onion)” from The Grey Album, which was a masterful mash-up of Jay-Z’s The Black Album and the Beatles’ The White Album.

→→→→→→ The Beatles are probably featured on more movie soundtracks than any other band in history, but few directors can write to Paul McCartney and snag a new tune specifically written for their film. Yet “Vanilla Sky” was acquired via such a request by notable music connoisseur Cameron Crowe for his less well-known film of the same title.

→→→→→ It could be argued that Crowe isn’t as musical as his wife, Nancy Wilson, whose famous guitar picking scores all his films. “Elevator Beat” for Vanilla Sky, “60B” for Elizabethtown, and “Lucky Trumble” for Almost Famous, perhaps his most loveable (and quotable) movie to date.

→→→→ Almost Famous showed us Jason Lee could sing, but it held out on us with Zooey Deschanel, who years after the film teamed up with singer/songwriter M. Ward to turn a handful of lovely melodies, like the heart-breaking yet quirky chorus of “Sentimental Heart,” into Volume One, a record as unassuming as the duo’s chosen name—She & Him.

→→→ Deschanel chose M. Ward for her “him,” and it’s not the first time he’s been picked for the team. Jack Johnson included Ward’s “Transfiguration #1” in his surf-inspired film/documentary A Brokedown Melody, though I personally prefer tunes like “Jailbird.”

→→ Composers usually score films, but Jack Johnson has been enlisted to score more than his own movies. Brought on board for Curious George, Johnson’s unabashedly simple, monkey-friendly songs (favorite: “Talk of the Town”) were the perfect tag-a-long for George and friends.

→ Long before this, as Brushfire Fairytales climbed the charts, Johnson came to Chicago. Opening for the environmentally friendly Hawaiian artist was G. Love and Special Sauce, whose suggestive, and sometimes downright kinky songs, like “Give It To You,” were a spicy first act for Johnson’s laid-back acoustic blues.

→→ G. Love headlined his own tour later with a young up-and-comer named Matt Costa, who we caught again a year later in Chicago closing out the show with long-time favorite and finally recorded “Miss Magnolia.”

→→→ The first time we saw Costa, in Lawrence, KS, was probably the best, partly due to opening act The 88, California rockers with hair to fit the part. After playing a clean-cut, well-rehearsed set of songs like “Coming Home” and “Hide Another Mistake,” the group disappeared until Costa invited the band back on stage for a rowdy encore and dance party.

→→→→ Perhaps the highlight of The 88’s set was actually their version of David Bowie’s “Suffragette City,” the second track on the glam-rock god’s best-of album, which also includes classics like “Ziggy Stardust,” and “Golden Years.”

→→→→→ Despite his years of renown, Bowie has never been so regally treated as by director Wes Anderson in The Life Aquatic; he makes up half the soundtrack, with either original recordings or is covered by Brazilian singer Seu Jorge. The rest of the film is driven by upbeat but thoughtful compositions like “Let me Tell You About My Boat,” from Mark Mothersbaugh’s charming score.

hard-hitting thoughts on FASHION and our wobbly, wobbly egos

A girl wrote:

“So many people just seem so dang contrived these days. We get it- you’re cool. You have your lip pierced and your Vans are pretty beat up. You have one of those rockclimberclipsthatyoucan’tactuallyuseforrockclimbing attached to your beltloop and you like discussing religion and your philosophy on life. Donnie Darko is your favorite movie, and you own vinyls and shop at Urban.

“I’d plead for more originality here if I didn’t find these characteristics attractive– That is, when they aren’t forced; when they aren’t contrived- when you can talk about other things other than your band and the new Toms that you’re about to buy.
(just thought I’d add in some clarification)

________________

“*I probably just came pretty dang close to describing myself. But in my defense, I only have one of those aforementoined fauximarockclimberbutnotreally clips hooked to my belt loop because I would loose my keys otherwise… and also, Donnie Darko isn’t my favorite movie. It’s in my top 14 or so, but not number one.”

So then I wrote:

“So I often have these exact same feelings. think Manhattan, KS is bad? walk around Wicker Park on a Saturday. it’s fucking ridiculous.

“But there’s more going on here, right? Why does it irk us? What actually drives these feelings? Because, like me, all you have is a little slate to scrawl on — a blog, which the people you’d love to tell these things to will never see. For me, I know at least one portion of our annoyance is somehow derived from the fact that we see ourselves as the perfect balance between fashionable yet reasonable, cool yet grounded, hipster yet not too hipster. Anyone less trendy doesn’t offend us but doesn’t get our attention either. Anyone more trendy is written off as trying too hard, too contrived, like you said.

“But it’s obvious that we don’t actually inhabit this perfect space, right? Because it’s all relative. People less fashionable than us look at us as if we’re trying too hard. And people more fashionable than us don’t notice us. So no matter what level of trendiness you subscribe to, you’re ahead of someone and behind someone else. Which makes it pointless to compare ourselves.

“I think another part of our hatred for those who “try too hard” stems from a lack of contentment with ourselves. We have to dislike them for being too eclectic because if we don’t, it means we aren’t eclectic enough. Not enough lace on our skirt, our glasses rims too small and too thin. Our pants not skinny enough. Again, relativity causes us problems. There’s someone across the street writing us off because they don’t want to feel bad about themselves. They want to be content.

“These tactics for contentment really don’t work though, as I’m sure you have figured out. What hope do we have in being okay with ourselves if we’re always looking to this person or that person, this group or that group for acceptance?

“I was in a folk trio for a while in Manhattan and when you do something like that you have to look a certain way. So I felt pressure to wear certain clothes and be a certain type of person. But those people (the musicians and our fans) weren’t my only friends. There were the bicyclists and Critical Mass, the other baristas at Radina’s, the Well attendees, the journalism students and a thousand others. After a while it became impossible to appease everyone, if anyone, and I realized I just had to be content with whatever.

“Which is easier said than done. But possible. What’s even harder is allowing other people that contentment, because as your post proves, we’re quite quick to harass others for just about anything. That we don’t confess our judgments to people doesn’t really matter. It puts us in a place of contemptuous comparison. We have to learn to be okay with people: if they are overly trendy and obnoxious about it, or if they just this year fell in love with Feist, or if they only listen to Top 40, or if, heaven forbid, they go to Country Stampede every year.

“As you wisely conceded at the end of your post, it’s hypocritical to be pissed at other people for stuff like this. Hopefully at some point that concession is no longer the postscript but a prescript. Or better yet, the only thing that runs through our heads, skipping all the frustrations. Choosing contentment. Observations with purpose. Grace.”

And that concluded the digital conversation.

Woman, Girl, Child: Remission

WOMAN, GIRL, CHILD: REMISSION

in parts I through IV

I

O bantam books, O fat cat records
publish my anxiety, record my embarrassment

market me: FAILURE! let my eulogy be

a billboard, this bright fear

.

.

.

.

II

O broken social scene, O cat power
prescribe to me your seditious melancholy

you are my twirling pinwheel, my absolutist
husband, his Bible

in Lynchburg

.

.

.

.

III

O mother, O oh mother
peak your head from your pillow
claw yourself from your dehydrated coma

and catch me! I’m in my room
with him on top, now behind me

walk in on us, Jesus

his forearms are sweaty against my sides
O ladysmith black mambazo, send me
your peace—

glimpse in me queenly anticipation

quite, peaceful repose

.

.

.

.

IV

O bedtime stories, O sherwood forest

become manifest under my bed
portal to the 7 princesses

Eugene Hutz and the Glorious Mustache

OK, so I love Relevant. Pause. Rewind. Take Two. I love that Relevant exists. They are a legitimate resource for a lot of Christians, young and otherwise, and have pretty sturdy, well thought-out content. But sometimes, I feel like they’re either a half a year behind or not pushing themselves (and us readers) far enough.

Example: This article about finding God in secular music. First, not an original topic, and not even an original take. Second, it could be a good thing for young believers to hear except he goes in this direction…

I’ve run across a handful of secular artists in the last few months who are writing great songs about God and Jesus, even if they haven’t discovered the truth yet. The following is a breakdown of a few artists’ take on God, Jesus and the spiritual world. Some come closer than others to finding the truth, but each displays the natural human need we have to find our way back to our Creator.

So I don’t necessarily disagree that this happens, or that humans can tap into God (or rather the other way around) without us knowing it, maybe only realizing it later, if ever. But what irks me the most is the way he projects onto these artists spiritual messages and lists them as “theologies.” I’ll be the first to admit we all experience spiritual moments through a number of differing media (precisely his point), but let’s be honest — it’s totally personal and may be totally contrary to what the songwriter was feeling when he composed the piece of music.

So, I wrote the following in response.

I appreciate this article. It’s a step in the right direction. But do we even have to pull spiritual/Biblical lessons from the music? Are we required to make the effort to project onto artists Christian ideals?

Or can we appreciate music for music’s sake? Consider this excerpt from an essay I finished a few months ago. “At some point, Christians have to realize they’re free to love beauty wherever it may be found, free to love art for art’s sake and music for music’s. Drew Dixon wrote a dead-on article for Ivy-League Christian journal The Augustine Project a few years ago. In it, he succinctly challenged the assumption that worship music is or should be a genre. A song’s lyrics, and the message from them, are entwined with its music, he said. The two are not easily dissected. “Placing all the value in the message robs all the value of the music, relegating it to a mere system of delivery,” he wrote. His point is reminiscent of Marshall McLuhan’s infamous warning, “The medium is the message.” A lyric may be powerful, worshipful, Godly, whatever — but it still can’t be pulled from its aural context.”

Likewise, we need remind ourselves the liberty we take with books and film. Many of us herald books with graphic content as very poignant, compelling reads that can challenge us on certain topics. As long as the graphic material isn’t gratuitous (meaning it doesn’t point us toward something meaningful). And we do the same thing with movies. Nothing good or Christ-like about the relationship struggles in Revolutionary Road or the sexual promiscuity displayed in Factory Girl. But we point to something greater contained within them. We don’t take a line or a sentence at face value. We look at the entire thing.

The same freedom should be given to musical artists.

A bit helter-skelter wasn’t it? Yeah, I should think through my responses before I post them. But regardless, I stand by my point. An example of what I mean could help, yes? Alright. Take Gogol Bordello. You really aren’t going to find some hidden Christian view in their music. If you do, the themes are so general that they’re probably ones we all deal with, not ones specific to the Christian faith.

Now, instead of doing that — trying to pull rabbits that aren’t there out of magic top-hats — and instead of saying, “Well if there aren’t redeeming or spiritual principles in the music, then you shouldn’t be listening to it,” I would say we can appreciate music for what it is: an attempt at creativity that will connect to others.

There are borders to artistic expression (think the Yale student abortion art exhibit), but we do have the option to applaud those men and women in the world who sing, and dance, and write songs, and perform them. We don’t have to emulate them. Or recommend anyone else emulate them.

I, for one, won’t be altering my life based on Eugene Hutz’s worldview. But I also won’t say we should ban his music, or tell Christians it’s without merit. Because I think it is.

Studies show that what we experience and the media exhibited to us does affect behavior, but I can assure you music (of all types, all volume levels, all styles, and created by all different types of people) can be therapeutic in a way that to not experience it will have equally negative effects. So there are boundaries, as always. But for the most part, I do believe we (all of us, not just Christians) need to free ourselves to like and dislike what we may, find truth where we will, and not justify it to anyone.

Seth Hurd, you like The Hold Steady. That’s fine. You think they have some spiritual truths to impart to us. That’s fine too. You should hold on to those. Maybe even share them. Just as long as you know that you don’t have to. You can listen to and love music without analyzing it down to the very last detail. You don’t have to research every band you like to see what they’re about. And you definitely don’t need to feel like you have to insert Christian ideals into your favorite music to justify it being on your iPod. Music is to be enjoyed. And God is interested in our joy.

Don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be.

ME, TWO-THOUSAND NINE

ME, TWO-THOUSAND NINE

your cousin got shot
///on Chicago Ave.

maybe he was number

???36
or one uncounted, but

///either way, it’s raining

on us

///and I can’t understand

///you

____

we weren’t sure what happened
we were told He wouldn’t fail

they all said it, even the singer
in a Spirit-filled crescendo
that brought the house to its feet
and knees

but if He didn’t, who did?

somebody got shot
6 houses down
some said a cop, only reason for
///so many cars — it didn’t matter who

somebody failed

____

go to bed, flickering blue on the wall
like nervous lightning

reminds me of going to bed with the TV on

then I fell asleep, safe and sound
tonight I do too