Thursday, January 21, 2010

#15

A Brief History Of Time...And Music

"Disorder increases with time because we measure time in the direction in which disorder increases." - Stephen Hawking

On the first day of the year 5SIAR was the furthest thing from my mind. I was more concerned with what would happen this year in terms of a personal nature than forming a game plan for this blog that you're reading right now. It was a poor choice. I figured I'd get to 5SIAR when I had the time which would eventually lead to it being put on the back burner which would lead to me forgetting and abandoning it. Maybe I was waiting for some kind of sign. Those signs came earlier than expected and that is why you're getting a new 5SIAR to start off the new year. I want the year to be good. I want my blog to be better than good. They will both undoubtedly take some work.

Sometimes I feel starting something new is like removing a band-aid. A very sticky one at that. The kind that tugs at your skin and rips several dozen hairs off while you're pulling. The trick has always been to rip it off as quickly as possible to reduce the amount of pain that you must endure. To get that sting out of the way and let the healing process come to an end. Yes, there is still pain, there always will be. But would you rather let that pain last longer than it needs to or get it over with in one quick gesture? I'm not here to judge your choice. I'm not here to tell you what's right and what's wrong. I'm just here for the music.

So, in true fast-ripping action I give you the first 5SIAR for 2010. And now that the band-aid is off I can see I have a little bit more healing to do. But it's better to have done it sooner than never. If you wait too long the moment disappears, and you're left with a blank sheet of paper. No one likes a blank canvas. It's intimidating.



"Big Man With A Gun" - Nine Inch Nails



We're starting the year off with a loud, ear-ringing bang. Reznor's period album The Downward Spiral was an industrial masterpiece when all the world wanted was more grunge and alternative. This album was the alternative. It was like when you first heard Nevermind, Dirt or Core or any other one word album back in the 90's. When you got done with it you flipped the tape back over and hit play on the boombox your parents gave you for Christmas and you listened to it again and again. I had bought the CD though. It was right around the time I had friends that could drive and one of the places we would always go is the record store. I'm proud to say that The Downward Spiral was one of the first CD's I bought with my own money (The other one was Siamese Dream). And no, I did not get carded because of the "Parental Advisory" sticker on the album. No clerk really gave a shit about it at the time. Did they ever?

This album represents a lot of the anger and animosity my generation went through during this period. The day-to-day headache known as high school - and pretty much everything surrounding it having to do with class wars - was the main reason behind so many youths becoming attached to what Trent was talking about. Now, I didn't know any heroin addicts during high school, but I did know many people trying to find some kind of group to belong to. Someplace safe. It wasn't with the Agriculture class (though Reznor did use a lot of pig references), and it wasn't with the popular kids either. We formed our own group of outcasts and headbangers to combat what the "normal" people stood for. Which, for that time, now that I think about it, remind me more and more of the conservative newscasters on Fox News - too clean cut for their own good. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, it's just that us metal kids weren't afraid to be honest and show that side to people. The ugliness. The issues everyone faces. Trent taught us that it's okay to feel like this.

The Downward Spiral came to us at the perfect point in time. I try to look back to my teenage years and it's hard to imagine them without this album. Sure, I had other outlets to immerse myself in to escape the fact I was an awkward, introverted teen. Tool and Tori Amos showed me the road, but Nine Inch Nails carried me down it. I could go on and on about what exactly the album is about and what Trent was feeling at the time - which was obviously lost - but again, this blog is more about the experience, not the artist themselves.

I used that Hawking quote in the beginning to acknowledge that like the universe we the people tend to measure our lives in relation to the amount of disorder we've racked up. We're proud of our accomplishments, but without the chaos and disorder, we would've never learned anything from it all. We would still be empty inside. Every time I listen to The Downward Spiral I am reminded of that. We're all a bit untidy and are constantly struggling for a clean cloth to wash ourselves off with.


"Capsize" - Karen O And The Kids



I'm not a big soundtrack fan. I have a bad taste in my mouth from so many disappointments. The only ones that I enjoy are the ones that are able to stand on their own, such as Purple Rain, The Wall, or Ziggy Stardust. I know there are others that are great, but those are the first three that pop into my head. These albums are made up entirely of songs by the artist instead of being thrown together by a producer or director. We remember how far we fell into the depths of the Garden State soundtrack, right? Thankfully Spike Jonze chose someone to create the soundtrack to 2009's Where The Wild Things Are, Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. She was chosen...wisely.

The song begins with hand claps and Karen O giving the listener a battle-cry chant outlining the movie's intro "running away to escape authority" theme. Soft chugging guitars, a marching drum beat that eventually leads into a stronger lead guitar, and Ms. O singing a few lines detail Max's reasons to take flight and leave his home. We've all felt that way at some point in our childhood as we try to come to terms with our parent's power over us. We are born with an instinct to not be ruled, but to do the ruling ourselves.

The movie takes its shape by showing us how negative emotions affect not just a child, but all of us. Feelings of abandonment, loneliness, egotism, depression, and self-loathing all make cameos. I know, it sounds like a commercial for Prozac, but it's a bit more entertaining when you see monsters become the manifestations of a little boy's melancholy world.

Some of us despise looking at ourselves in the mirror. The mask dissolves to show what we've hidden underneath. For some there is a lot of darkness hidden behind our eyes. Darkness that was never brought into the light. Time heals, but scars are always there as reminders of all the pain we've suffered. I say why not take a more laughable approach to the situation? There's something amusing about seeing imaginary characters going through the same process and handling it in a completely different way - like biting one another, or creating another world out of sticks and stones where nothing bad happens, or just hanging out with owls named Bob and Terry. Even now as adults we feel the need to run away every now and then.


"The Age Of The Understatement" - The Last Shadow Puppets

Before I speak about this song I feel it necessary for you the reader to watch the video for it to fully grasp its meaning or lack thereof. Whichever you prefer.



A lone ice skater with the entire rink all to herself. A few scattered people watching the band (Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys and Miles Kane of The Rascals) perform while a boy indulges himself with sweets. The band braving a harsh Russian winter riding on tanks while Red Army officers bellow out a gut-vibrating baritone. A single old woman praying in church. What does it all mean you ask? Excess. Which is why the band or director probably chose Russia as the location. It's ironic though because I don't think of that country as being excessive. It makes me think of America. Hrmmm...

There is a lot of emptiness in the scenes. Vast landscapes taken up by one or very few people yet still being able to show the gluttony of power. The army, the church, the delicious pastry, the perfect skater, all of it has to do with an addiction to excess, but it's presented in the form of how hollow that excess really is. The scenes are the understatement. Small snippets of reality candy-coated with the exact opposite of what the scenes portrayed actually are.

The cold war never ended. It was just turned inward. We fight with ourselves to the point of madness and stalemate because we deny our body, mind, and spirit things we are made to think are excessive and should therefore be avoided. Everything in moderation I always say, but some people just can't help themselves. As time goes on fat cats get fatter and the rest of us are left to starve. This is the way it has been for a while now and it's sad to see it getting worse.

At least the song and video are cool.


"A Peak In Time" - Cut Chemist



Did any of you watch Scratch, the documentary explaining the history of the DJ and turntablism? If not, then you should. A lot of people have protested against the turntable being used as an instrument, calling what is created from it unoriginal and plagiarist. I, on the other hand, have the utmost respect for it. The music produced from turntablism is the only genre that I feel isn't being created for the sole purpose of evoking an emotional response. It's completely unbiased. The listener doesn't have a singer going on and on about his or her problems or rewards. When you listen to disc jockeys like Afrika Bambaataa, DJ Shadow, or in this case Cut Chemist, you are free to think and feel however you want. Which is why DJ's have never and will never make a soundtrack to a television show or movie. They don't have to tell you how you should feel at some moment in time.

When you listen to this track from Chemist how does it make you feel? Uplifted? Intoxicated? Pissed off? Can you even pinpoint the exact sentiment being conveyed? I can't, really, and that's what makes it great. It is in no way connected to emotion so none of it can be used to soundtrack visuals. This is another aspect of the DJ I admire. None of their music is telling me how to feel. I decide. I don't have a Chris Martin or some other sappy lead vocalist with a melodic band backing him/her up to remind me of that one girl that got away or how the government is fucking me in the ass. I can count on Cut Chemist mixes not showing up on American Idol while some newly crowned blond popper bounces up and down for the camera with a piece of yellow paper in their hand. I also won't hear DJ Shadow during the new Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson movie about being a tooth fairy. Turntablism doesn't belong there and it's what I detest about television or movie soundtracks. They are played during the key moments when the director is telling the audience how to feel. Sounds like a crutch for actors if you ask me. I go more for a subtle approach. Like the Amelie soundtrack. It stays in the background the entire time and let's you connect with the actors instead.

Turntablists are the graffiti artists of the music world - complete freedom with no constraints and all control. None of them need producers to mold and shape their sound to fit into a specific niche. I like that. It's what I strive for in my own life. Creating myself without the direct aid of others, but taking the past and transforming it into something usable and original.


"Red Right Ankle" - The Decemberists
What songs from your past do you find stick with you over the years? Songs that you never forget and that catapulted you into a new way of thinking or being. "Red Right Ankle" is one of those songs on my list, but I'll be damned if I can figure out why. I become engrossed and engulfed in so many artists and their songs that it all starts to become one giant radio transmission being sent from a distant world. Can you imagine what all the songs ever played on the radio sound like from space? It's one stream of noise. I feel that way here on Earth. So many songs linked to so many thoughts and memories that it becomes a chore to sort them all out and make sense of it all. Like having to scrub the kitchen floor on your hands and knees. It takes extra work, but the payoff is being able to see yourself in that floor.

I attribute The Decemberists as being my doorway into indie music. Sure, there are other bands and solo artists, but whenever I think of that one moment where I started ingesting every band that was recommended to me I always go back to the beginning. Back to The Decemberists. Back to my friend Eva telling me, "You need to listen to this band." Now when I discover a new band I work backwards to find their influences and from that find older bands that I should've been listening to instead of Korn and Mudvayne. I've labeled that time in my life "The Dark Ages."

Working backwards seems to fit my personality according to the Myers-Briggs test. I solve my present problems by looking into the past and taking that information and applying it to the situation at hand. Instead of devising a new way to sort through it I just stick with what worked or didn't work from before. It seems to work, sometimes.

The last time The Decemberists appeared on 5SIAR I was bashing them. Well, not them, but the song. It was a song off of the Always A Bridesmaid series, a collection of six new songs released before their lackluster rock-opera opus The Hazards Of Love. I only enjoyed half of the songs on Always A Bridesmaid, the half that reminded me of The Decemberists of yore - The Decemberists from Picaresque, Her Majesty, and Castways and Cutouts that I love. Let that be a lesson to you, Colin Meloy. Never try to cover Velvet Underground ever again. But I forgive them. Time heals. It also creates more chaos.

I could use some peace, though.