You hear the furious drums in perfect chaos, like a noisy tornado, just forming in the distant horizon. In comes a structured, hard bass line that seems to bring some direction, just in time for clumsy, distorted rock n' roll guitars to screw up any sign of order again. Bone Machine has begun.
Any album in which the first two songs have the "bone" in the words, is probably not a soft one. Surfer Rosa is no exception. It breaks your body, your face, blatantly says it has something against you, tells you stories about the desert, incest, confusion. It tells you to fuckin' die!
A raw collection of song-writing fueled by both alcohol and incredible talent. The Pixies' ability to mix pop structures, shrink-wrapped melodies and universal themes which most people never consider writing songs about, is coated by Steve Albini's garage production.
Albini's style, for those who don't know, could be described as chiaroscuro, highly contrasting. It's as if the whole band fell into a well, and instead of checking for wounds, played even louder.
I keep trying to explain to my friends at work what kind of music I like, which a lot of times is annoying, since we come from different backgrounds. But it's also an excellent mind workout, since I love translating things. I like different categories, in fact I disagree with most of the categories, so I just say I like music. But that's too general, and you end up pigeonholed anyway. So today I wrote something to Justin that went like this: My music favors flawed, spontaneous honesty to polite, premeditated "emotionism."
Get it? Emotionism. I think it's the next buzzword. It doesn't matter who wrote a song, when they wrote it, what kind of clothes or haircut they had when they wrote it. It's the song, and the state of mind behind it. And the reactions of the listeners.
8:55AM, a large, black man, steps into the train at Lawrence. He yells for some peace and quiet, breathes like he wants the entire car to know he's there. Then says something like he can't even chase a woman, I can't say exactly because I wasn't paying much attention at first, with Superdrag singing post-teen angst in my ear, SPIN on my lap with the "hottest 25 concerts to see NOW!".
He yells Jacksonesque tone about how everyone would inevitably die, and there would be no escape, that we're all cockroaches "and some roachier than others!"; that this city is full of faggots and "we'll do you like you do each other" (which kinda gave away the root of all this hatred, the closet). After a few minutes that, especially after he stopped walking back and forth across the train and sat right in front of me, I had to pause the music.
Now, I'm not exactly a weightlifter, but I rarely feel threatened, due to my third world perception of a threat; if somebody's not wearing rags, I tend to think they're not about to mug you. But here, hatred is more dangerous than mugging. This constant pressure to label every single thing makes people truly believe that's all there is to life, and a lot of times, if you're already prone to be a freakjob, that's the direction you'll point your anger. I felt threatened.
Especially when, about one stop later, he laughed, talked how we'll all die and reached down to the bottom of his pants' leg, pulled it up all the way to his knee. I seriously thought he was going to pull out a gun and shoot at random. That's when me and 15 other people walked out of the car and into the next one, quite distressed.
I would call the train operator, except he could see me from there, so I preferred to tell myself it's alright and just get to work. Strange way to start the day, though.
I think I could spend eternity listening to Neil Young.
It's just... so good. The words and the way they're said, the truth in it. He makes me want to write more, but then comparison makes me feel like a terrible writer. Still, if you don't know a lot of his stuff aside from "Keep on Rockin' in a free world" and/or "Heart Of Gold" -- both amazing songs -- you should get "Harvest" and indulge. And then after that, you can listen to "On The Beach." After a lot of that, you may want to sit down, close your eyes and listen to those gigantic songs from "Zuma," "Tonight's The Night" and dude, at this point you'll probably want to listen to anything the man has ever recorded.
Or maybe not, but I seriously recommend everybody on earth should listen to "Harvest" once from track 1 to 12. Screw Pink Floyd. This is the real freaking trip.
So last night, after many adventures - including me writing down the wrong address and getting us lost in-dee-ghetto at 10pm, then going around in circles for another half hour in Logan Square, then finding the perfect spot, only to find that they only took cash at the door, and the ATM right next to the place was out of order, then taking another 20 minutes to find a new spot after going to a gas station - we saw the Comedians of Comedy.
It was sweaty, crowded, no chairs - definitely not an easy task for someone who works standing up all day and someone who sits, but is tired on a friday. But seeing Patton Oswalt and Eugene Mirman drew laughs outta my soul.
It's the first time I ever watch a comedy show live, and I hope the first of many. Tonight I found Eugene's website, check out for yourself and see what I mean. Very talented comedian, plays with extremes, inflated egos, the disguised hatred and racism in all of politically correct.
Make sure you listen to the "Anti-Gay Phone Company" MP3's on his website.
I don't feel like posting to Livejournal. And that's fine, it's a feeling I've gotten used to. Most of the time, I don't want to make my intimate thoughts public. So every now and then I spit something out and that's cool. Who cares for a fucking blog anyway.
But it feels like lately I can't produce anything creative outside my work, and that's a problem. I sit and try to write lyrics and I can't seem to put anything together. What's going on? Many possible answers in my mind.
I used to write poetry all the time, now I just don't. Have I become dull? Have I lost my passion? Am I too worried about what people will think in this different place? That never was a problem, but maybe it is now...
I used to not know that many "alternative" [yucky word] bands, so I felt like all I created was something new and really personal. Now everything I write reminds me too much of something else. Should I start wearing isolating earphones without playing anything?
There's another thought I keep having, that is fucking killing me. I feel like I should give up and leave it to the pros. I listen to these amazing works everyday and think, dude, these people dedicate a lot of time to this music, and I don't even have that kind of time. When I used to write music, it wasn't just a pastime, it was for real. I wanted to play live, I wanted people to hear me, I had hopes to go somewhere. And now I feel like I love my work, it consumes most of my time, therefore anything I do won't be as good as what everyone else does.
But that's such a ridiculous and absurd way of thinking, and I try to convince myself not to start with that stuff. Because my music was my vent, it was my confessional, people have always liked what they heard and I have no reason to think I'm not talented. I'm just no genius. Which is fine. I like many bands who are no geniuses and still kick ass.
I'd like to hang out with musicians again, put a band together, have people over and just play. Turn it nice again.
[UPDATE] They are crazy. They chase each other all day long -that is, they play superfast tag for ~10 minutes, then pass out for like half an hour. The house feels way more warm now.
Does anybody else listen to podcasts? It's so extremely awesome to do while you're going to work.
My list is growing almost everyday. It all started with the 2 LOST podcasts, which talked about, well, LOST. Then came Security Now!, which is about computer security and geeky stuff like that. After which, I subscribed to Strong Bad emails, SuicideGirls radio (did you know they have a show in California?) and now I even get ChinesePod, which provides daily chinese lessons. Oh, and KCRW's Morning Becomes Eclectic, with exclusive band sessions.
It's like listening to talk radio, except they only talk about stuff you care about!
The next step? Producing my own, of course. Me and my newest best buddy, Justin R., want to make something really cool out of a totally geeky subject: Flash and Actionscripting. Can they do it? Maybe. We've got the right guns, let's see where it goes...
"You can't always get what you want / but if you try sometimes / you just might find / You get what you need"
I feel like I'm living a happy period of my existence.
For once, I'm happy with my job. There's a fuzzy feeling to finally getting something like this. A great team, demand for quality work, clients with a name that people will actually recognize, a decent pay (though not yet as high as I can go).
A lot of people - heck, most people I know - aren't too happy with their jobs, so I feel extra-lucky. I don't feel like I deserve it more than everyone else, but I do deserve it. I fought hard for it and can only recommend they do the same. I know it sounds self-helpish, but it's my experience: persist. If one way doesn't work, work around it, but keep your eye on the goal and you'll get somewhere (even if it's not the same place you first planned, but similar).
If you're good, you're good. Advertise yourself. Show what you can do to the right people.
Aside from work, playing man-of-the-house (trivia, did you know husband comes from Old English husbonda, "male head of a household"?) has proven more and more satisfying. I've never hung shelves so beautifully, let alone have a relationship that's "getting better all the time*" like this.
All in all, it's beautiful to see the worth patience has, the way time does things and nothing's set in stone, so if you believe in something, and persist long enough, maybe you'll be surprised positively.
When all the music you hear all day sounds like: a) grown men yelling like babies; b) people whining about how much "everything suckz"; c) all bad pop/metal created in the last 20 years, joined into one - yet never acknowledging the fact or denying when it's brought up; d) Bryan Adams on overdrive
... maybe it's time to get some professional, psychological help, or at least some serious musical counseling?
I know there are more important things to say, such as my new j-o-b, which basically rocks my world; or Rachie's, which will definitely be an upgrade and I'm crossing all my fingers that it will rock as well.
I know, you'd expect me to talk about how happy I am that we're both in constant and active growth, both career- and relationship-wise, and that the "no pain, no gain" deal is all true, as long as you point your wild horse of a life towards where you want to be, and hold tight.
But I won't.
Instead, I'm just gonna say this: I'm a BIG fan of Taylor Hicks, aka that crazy gray-haired dude from American Idle, and I hope he gets signed by an independent label after he gets ditched. The man has SOUL.
While the middle-east is on practically every single news bulletin everyday, you rarely hear anything about China. And we, not just America but the whole western world should.
This blog will help you turn away from Mecca and towards Beijing for half an hour.
First, check out these fascinating photos, showing why China's geography is not to be missed.
Then, watch this short film and discover why China's economy is not to be ignored.
The pleasure in watching LOST is really a masochistic one.
You enjoy just how much they fool you and get you completely sure of one thing, when it was actually something completely different. And what's worse, it makes sense, it's not gratuitous, 6th-sense-style twists.
If my theory is right, I'm one of those self-torturers. I've seen the entire first season twice (once alone, then with Rachel), listen to twoPodcasts every week and believe missing an episode is absolutely unimaginable.
This is one of the best thing produced for TV in a long time, very tight-knit and (very) demanding of your poor, tired brains. If you haven't been watching... I guess all I can say is rent the first episodes and I bet you'll decide to buy the entire collection. You'll see.
After a very lukewarm second season, tonight's episode finally blew our minds and got our eyes as big as our heads. I guess you need that tension, that good/evil thing to be in the air in order for it to be exciting. And it is, again.
Everything is undefined, many new doors have just been opened, and next week's preview was just... torture. And we loved it.
Did some work on some pictures I took on new year's day, with Rach, Liz and John, at a cemetery near their place (and subsequently, near our future home!).
Bill Gates is so rich the US tax department has a special computer devoted solely to his finances.
And I have a special computer devoted to trying to get a piece of that action, hehehe. Not that I want to work for Microshit. I'll just help the people who are taking away their profits. In slightly related news, have you heard about Google's big China "oops"? I wasn't happy. I guess saying "don't be evil" in the business world is a bit of a paradox anyway.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=92.1){kind=small}
nandorocker's journal
bored
amused
anxious