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Wednesday, May 21, 2008
10,000 days = 27 years...
...this might be lengthy...bear with me, if you want.
Would you ever imagine a guy like me, who writes the kind of hopeful drivel that I write, would enjoy a band like Tool? Me either, actually. What kind of images do you get in your head when you think of Tool? I remember when, for me, their dark and heavy music was the soundtrack to a meth or coke addict life, lying somewhere on a vomit and blood encrusted shag carpet in some two-bit motel on the seedy side of town. People lock their car doors when they hear their music, the car doors in their minds. I always got the impression that their listener base was out on the fringes of sanity and embedded in the throws of substance abuse and multiple piercings of as many bodily locations as possible. Admittedly, that image isn't entirely wrong. But, as with most things, the first impression isn't always the right impression...the truth isn't always black and white...it's somewhere in between.
Alrighty, then ... picture this if you will. 10 to 2 AM, X, Yogi DMT, and a box of Krispy Kremes, in my "need to know" pose, just outside of Area 51 Contemplating the whole "chosen people" thingy when a flaming stealth banana split the sky like one would hope but never really expect to see in a place like this. Cutting right angle donuts on a dime and stopping right at my Birkenstocks,
I remember when Rush was called, by a radio jockey somewhere in Texas, the "thinking man's metal band." I thought about that, and said, yeah.. that's true. Peart's writing, while a little too Ayn Rand for my tastes these days, was always interesting and thoughtful. With Tool, it's not quite the same, however. Their Parental Advisory lyrics are peppered with images that would curl your nose hairs, and dark thoughts that would make you cringe. However, in the darkness, there is sometimes clarity. Intellectual? Not really. Introspective? Often. You don't have to be college educated to be self-aware...so why are so many fans of Tool complete...well, tools? I don't really know. Perhaps they're drawn to the danger of the darkness like a moth is drawn to the edge of the flame. One thing's for sure, you'll never find me at a Tool concert. Why? I'd likely be beaten up and rolled for drug money.
Then the X-Files being, Looking like some kind of blue-green Jackie Chan with Isabella Rossellini lips, and breath that reeked of vanilla Chig Champa Did a slow-mo Matrix descent Outta the butt end of the banana vessel
So why in the name of all that is sacred and hopeful, do I find any compelling reason to listen to Tool? It's just the music, really. It's the atmospheres they create so well. They're dark, and sometimes make your skin crawl, and that takes talent, in my limited opinion. Also, mathematics is their friend. Moving from 6/8 to 4/4 to 3/4 to 2/2 in the space of one musical phrase might be jarring to the untrained ear, but musical candy to geeks like me. Their way of rolling the harmony around a bouncing bell-toned drone note perks up my ears and causes me to give a listen.
And after calming me down with some orange slices and some fetal spooning, E.T. revealed to me his singular purpose. He said, "You are the Chosen One, the One who will deliver the message. A message of hope for those who choose to hear it and a warning for those who do not." Me. The Chosen One? They chose me!!! And I didn't even graduate from f^#&in' high school.
Tool's album 10,000 days has to be, in my opinion, the best of their efforts so far, and I applaud them, even if their fan base, and indeed, the members of Tool themselves, would all give me the one finger salute for trying to dissect their music like the psych patient that it is right before they slug me in the face.
Monkey killing monkey killing monkey over pieces of the ground. Silly monkeys give them thumbs they make a club, And beat their brother down. How they survive so misguided is a mystery. Repugnant is a creature who would squander the ability, To lift an eye to heaven, conscious of his fleeting time here.
I remember, about ten years old, lying on my back in my grandmother's house on Sunday afternoons between church services, dipping into my older brother's collection of Pink Floyd vinyl. I'd lay there, tripping on the audio with classic 1970s stereophonic headphones that covered my entire ear. Every whispered word. Every soft thump and muted sound effect and back masked mystery, in my ears. Dark Side, The Wall, Meddle. Head music, for sure. For a ten year old, fodder for imagination. This era in my life, is probably one of the many reasons I'm the way I am now.
Zip the tape forward to today. It's been a while since I indulged in headphones, yet the same holds true. However, the difference is, mobility. I must have missed the whole Walkman era, because I don't remember being musically mobile before, with the exception of the car stereo or the annoying boom box. With the car stereo, however, road noise can cover subtlety. Sometimes, you don't even know how much you've been missing because of distraction and the intrusion of environmental noise.
I am, as many of you know, the happy recent recipient of an iPod Nano from Phil over at A Family Runs Through It (stay-at-home homeschooling dad and philanthropist). Listening to some of my collected musics on this device has been ear opening. For some, it's like rediscovering the music all over again. For example, I can now hear every click, buz, whir and whispered vocal of every Radiohead album after The Bends (when they finally stopped pandering to the Pop world and started getting interesting). I can hear every finger slip, scratch of bow against guitar string, and quiet distant drumbeat on Sìgur Rós' album ( ). I can hear every scratchy and endearing imperfection of the mellotron when it's used by either Porcupine Tree or Steve Hackett. In short, I think I'm hearing exactly what the artists wanted me to hear, for the first time.
CORRECTION: My wife corrected me in the comments section so I believe I should just come clean and mention that it was not actually ME who won the iPod Nano, but my wife. It is through the loving generosity of my wife who has allowed me to borrow HER iPod Nano that I am able to listen to all this wonderful music. Thank you my love!
....has broken the music industry into tiny little shards of nothingness.
When Radiohead's contract with their previous record company ended, they quietly and politely said "That's ok..we don't really need you all that bad." And they're going to prove that what they said was true...on October 10th.
In a typically simple and short message on their blog on October 1st dead air space, Johnny says:
"Hello everyone. Well, the new album is finished, and it's coming out in 10 days; We've called it In Rainbows. Love from us all."
It's being sold by them, and nobody else. From their website, as a download. Or, you can pre-order an amazing physical copy which includes a second cd, a free download, the entire album on vinyl, and all the artwork you could possibly imagine. This is the one I'll be trying to get. They're doing it all without the "help" and "assistance" of dubious record companies. The download is also, essentially, free. If you go to www.radiohead.com, you are forwarded to the website for the album www.inrainbows.com. Here, you are given two purchase choices, digital download, or Discbox edition. If you select the pre-order of the digital download, and view your basket, the price field is empty, waiting to be filled by you. What? What is this? So many questions in your head. The good boys at Radiohead have provided a clickable ? to which you may direct your questions about this apparent lack of price. All it says is "It's Up to You." That's refreshing. Cheapskates, please note, if you choose to pay nothing, be aware that there is a one dollar credit card processing fee (oh the horror!). People may say "Oh my, how will they ever make a profit from this?" Easy. No record company to pay...and more people than ever will have access to their music.
They are my new musical heroes.
Why are they shirking the Big Label Record Companies? Because they can. Let's think about what record companies actually give us in this digital age anyway. They give us...uh...hang on a sec...it may come to me in a minute....oh yeah. Marketing! Yay Marketing! You too could have images of your band plastered and forced upon an unsuspecting public for a hefty fee of, well, frankly, most of the profits from your album, and a little bit of your soul. Radiohead doesn't need this "branding," this "demographic targeting" or any other b.s. that the language of marketing blabbers on about. None of that matters anymore.
I haven't even heard any of the tunes on this album, slated to bring down Radiohead's download server on October 10th from sheer demand, but that doesn't matter at this point. The point is, they did it...they're doing it...they're showing us what the future of music will be like...without monster record companies. It's a brave new world. A lovely new world. A kinder, gentler, musical world.
Thank you Radiohead.
I've embedded two tracks from one of their older albums below: Paranoid Android
Sometimes, a piece of music hits me. Sometimes, I can't get enough of a song. I replay it and replay it...hoping to have that same experience over and over again. Just like the first time I heard it...most songs don't do this for me. Sometimes, however, a song just gets better with each play. The emotional response is stronger each time, the mental images more vivid. I'm not sure what it is, but I enjoy it, so I run it back, and play it again.
This is unusual behavior for me, you have to understand. I'm usually an "album" guy. I'm the guy who tells people, a "song" is only one part of a larger picture presented to us by the artist in the form of an "album." While I still feel this is true, there are those times when I just can't get enough. Like a seductive drug, I run it back again, and close my eyes, and re-listen.
Today's drug comes in the form of "Darkmatter." This is the final track on the Porcupine Tree 1996 album Signify. I'm not sure what it is about this song that has me in it's clutches today. I've used this song as writing inspiration before...see the post a few weeks ago called nonstop from timbuktu. But today, I'm writing about the song explicitly. Not sure why, I just feel so compelled.
I love music, as you all know. Among the many many notable guitarists in the world, I've recently decided that there is a guitar trinity...at least my own personal guitar trinity. Each person must find their own path to guitar enlightenment, I believe.
Below, are YouTube clips of the three guitarists that are central in my own personal pantheon of guitar rock and roll.
Steve Howe
David Gilmour
Steve Hackett
You may notice that I don't go in for "shredders," but more for emotive and artsy players. I like guitarists that can make you feel, rather than scream. But hey, that's just me.
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?
Sometimes one will resonate more than the others, for longer, it seems. Some will linger in your mind better. With some, the flavor of the ear candy presented never becomes tiresome or old, but always fresh. It's not true with all, at least for me, but with some, it is very true.
And did they get you trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
Sometimes, though the meanings are vague, the images stir deeper. For me, this is what makes something timeless. This is what makes something last, endure. Over time, some images fade, some stanzas become over used and typical. But not this one. For me, this is one of the best, one of the classics, one of those that will remain. This is one of the ones during which, I do not mumble, but let fly from my vocal chords with confidence. This is one of the ones that I know by heart.
How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears, wish you were here.
Off the wall and odd is how it is today. A bit knackered, if you get my meaning. Stark raving, standing on top of the table in the middle of the lunch room weird, that sort of thing. Someone once asked me if I thought Jethro Tull got off on being crass and vulgar. I'm not sure. There were, to be sure, some not so subtle vulgarities in certain songs.
Sitting on a park bench -- eyeing ittle girls with bad intent.
But those songs, overplayed, are but the edge of the full picture. One cannot judge a cover by the book, can one? Witness:
Wond'ring aloud -- will the years treat us well. As she floats in the kitchen, I'm tasting the smell of toast as the butter runs. Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed and I shake my head. And it's only the giving that makes you what you are.
Good lines, great song, same album. A fuller picture emerges of Tull. Rounded and elaborate. Blues and tears and rock and roll and a middle ages minstrel show, all wrapped up into a 1970s full frontal attack by Ian Anderson's flute.
It's not for everyone, that's to be admitted. Some people just don't "get" Tull. I do. It's cold wind, snow, winter darkness and a warm hearth to me. It's a dark ale, a hearty and woody full flavoured whiskey over rocks with a touch of water. Witness:
Once in Royal David's City stood a lonely cattle shed, where a mother held her baby. You'd do well to remember the things He later said. When you're stuffing yourselves at the Christmas parties, you'll just laugh when I tell you to take a running jump. You're missing the point I'm sure does not need making that Christmas spirit is not what you drink.
Sometimes Tull is summer sunshine on the new shoots of wheat or corn. Sometimes it's a pagan dance in the glowing evening of a cool spring English wood with Pan himself dancing the Beltane around moss covered standing stones that have lived for thousands of years in that one spot. Witness:
Have you ever stood in the April wood and called the new year in? While the phantoms of three thousand years fly as the dead leaves spin? There's a snap in the grass behind your feet and a tap upon your shoulder. And the thin wind crawls along your neck it's just the old gods getting older. And the kestral drops like a fall of shot and the red cloud hanging high come a Beltane.
I've got Tull on the mind today. Not sure why...oh, be honest, I know why. Cleaning out the closet over the weekend, I found an old t-shirt from years ago. A Tull shirt, one of my favorites. This one, as a matter of fact:
Call me a freak, call me what you will. Music is my inspiration most days. It makes me feel, makes me sing, makes me feel better about my nine to five life. You're never too old to rock and roll...Rock on Ian Anderson!
