I got piqued
So I got this email from eBay that had this banner:
“Peak buyers’ interest”? Really? While I appreciate the proper use of the possessive apostrophe, the word is pique. It means to stimulate. It also means to annoy. Which they did.
Posted by Jonathan at 09:41 PM, 28 April 2007 | Comments (0)
TMX: Music Is Math v. Starship Trooper
Tomorrow sometimes seems like a week away. Anyway, this time Rich and I are exchanging “Ready Lets Go/Music Is Math,” by the Boards of Canada, and “Starship Trooper,” by Yes.
Rich offered this bit for me before I listened to BoC:
Artist: Boards of Canada
Album: Geogaddi
Tracks: Ready Lets Go / Music Is Math
Label: Warp Records
Released: 2002Within the first few minutes of listening to this album, Boards of Canada had established themselves, without question, as one of my top 5 favorite bands.
Quite simply, the music is audio psychedelia—rich in sonic depth and texture, and emotionally evocative. It is completely electronic, and yet altogether human.
I don’t want to spoil the experience with too much hype, so relax, sit back, close your eyes and take the ride.
And this is how I introduced “Starship Trooper”:
Okay, rich(e)rich, my next song is “Starship Trooper,” by Yes. This came out in 1970 off The Yes Album, which contains the wildly overplayed “I’ve Seen All Good People.” If I had to choose a favorite Yes album, it would tough to decide between this one and Close to the Edge.
I like prog rock. What can I say? Yes is one of those divisive bands—most of my friends really don’t like them, or, worse, confuse them with Rush. My parents, who, in all honesty, shaped my musical tastes from an early age, don’t like Yes, since bands like them and ELP represent the downfall of album format rock-and-roll. I dug Yes before Pink Floyd, before Led Zeppelin. It’s just one of those things that appealed to me as a kid, and still does.
Now, why “Starship Trooper”? Well, your first song was 8 minutes long, so I figured that all time restraints were off. ;) Next, this song has what I consider to be a perfect build. Starting at about 5:36, there’s just a guitar playing a lick, it’s subtly joined in by organ and drum, then bass, and it just builds from this one riff. It grips me every time I hear it. It goes on forevah!, but it holds me for every second. There’s a false crescendo two minutes in, and it still goes on. There’s this wall of sound that just grows and grows. When it finally does peak, at about 8:25, I get all wobbly. Seriously. That’s what music does to me. If I’m listening through headphones, I’ll tear up when that peak hits from the release of the tension.
I’m not expecting the same visceral reaction from you, of course.
After we listen to the tracks, I’ll post our reactions and set up next week’s exchange.
Posted by Jonathan at 12:46 PM, 24 April 2007 | Comments (0)
TMX: Reactions to Pretzel Logic v Cowgirl
Ooops! Sorry for the delay. So, as established previously, Rich and I were sending music to each other that highlight our musical backgrounds. Last time I chose “Pretzel Logic,” and this is what Rich had to say about it:
Before hearing this song, my only exposure to Steely Dan was the song “Bodhisattva”—an up tempo rocker that I always looked for in the jukebox when having a few drinks at the bar, so I was happy to check out some more from “the Dan.” Now one thing I like about hearing bands perform cover songs and/or standards is that it allows you to put the unfamiliar—in this case SD, in a context that is more familiar—a jam based on the ubiquitous rock staple: the 12-bar blues.
In this case, it really allowed me to see what is unique about the SD sound. (Keep in mind that I’m not really a blues guy, so I’m going to speak in broad generalizations about my impressions of blues jams I have heard.) Most blues jams rely heavily on a deep shuffle groove that keeps you moving — and this groove is very effective — at both slow and fast tempos. As far as lyrics and vocal melodies, they connect with the listener on a sort of core level, unadorned with the frills, so to speak, but speak simply and honestly to some fundamental, common experience we all can relate to. The music, to me, is more of a vehicle for this core emotional expression—the blues!
But then there is “Pretzel Logic.” While it is rooted in the basic 12-bar progression, it has a completely different vibe and feel with a jazz/prog rock sound and structure, feeding all the fundamental blues elements through the “Steely Dan” music production machine. The lyrics are not raw and simple, but clever and require a bit of attention to catch all the subtleties. As far as the performance, SD doesn’t sound like an improvised jam based on some simple chords. This piece has been arranged and composed in a very deliberate way. I can hear it. It’s almost too deliberate at times. The experience of listening to “Pretzel Logic” is reminiscent of when I listen to progressive rock. The key focus is a commitment to achieving a level of performance and composition that meets and/or exceeds the existing technical standard. So combining this technical, heady vibe with the usually raw and emotive blues makes you take notice.
I am happy to report that the production quality of this recording is excellent—the drums are tight and mixed well, the vocals are well recorded and in tune with an almost transparent quality to them, and we even have some nice stereo imaging. This is clean and professional, a well engineered and orchestrated mix that creates a sonic space for the song to exist in. This is significant to note. This means that the song, regardless of what the music evokes at any time, will be something that always at the very least sound good, because it is a recording with a collection of good sounds arranged well.
Now I’ve listened to this track about 15 or so times since I received it from you, in various states of mind, in headphones, on a mini system, and in the studio. Listening usually brings on one of three responses:
1) I’ll look for this in the bar’s jukebox next time I’m out. I’ll think about the images and probably will start some conversation based on “Imagine meeting Napoleon?” or “It would be a strange trip to tour the southland in a minstrel show. I could only guess it would feel like being on Acid for weeks at a time.” Which is good! The song moves me a bit, and I can connect with what’s going on. Plus, it gives me a bridge to connect with the classic rock heads in my life. :)
2) “These white boys are stiff.” You know I love to dance. I need a groove (slow or fast) to keep me moving or engaged mentally with the track. It’s like, I hear the blues element, but want it to be more bluesy. It’s as if the core, raw, honest elements of the blues “proper” have been refined and edited out. When it hits me like this, I’m more inclined to want to turn something else on.
3) In certain states of mind, shall we say, the song is a synestheticly “takeable” ride. =)
Let me conclude with “How frequently will I listen to Pretzel Logic in the future, and when?”
It’s definitely made it into rotation when at the bar, for certain. This is where I think will enjoy listening to the song most and most often. When hanging out with you Supa, it will probably find it’s way into the playlist. =) When hanging out at home alone, I’d guess that it’s much more likely to find it’s way on via shuffle over deliberate effort. It will probably never come on with Alyssa around—she has matching aversions for Steely Dan and Fleetwood Mac, interestingly enough!
And if a friend puts it on, I am familiar enough to enjoy rocking out to it with them!
This was my reaction to “Cowgirl”:
My only previous exposure to Underworld was “Born Slippy,” off of the Trainspotting soundtrack. They reminded me of Orbital, which was probably due more to my lack of exposure to electronic music than anything else. (Were we still calling it techno in 1996?) But the main point here is that I really enjoyed Orbital, and I thought “Born Slippy’ was pretty good too.
With only knowing “Born Slippy” and maybe a few other passing tracks from Underworld, I was surprised how recognizable “Cowgirl” was to me. Underworld has a very unique groove. I really enjoy the build at the beginning of the track, and, like my very favoritest prog and psychedelic music, the song has a half-dozen different movements within it that make the entire track seem more epic than probably 8 minutes normally allow.
The synths sound great. I know you’re more of a beat man, but I love the pretty noises. Also, since this is from 1994, all these sounds may be played out, but they’re new to me, which is a nice feature to being exposed to music a decade or so after the release. However, I also like to be able to sing along to a song, which is nearly impossible in this case. The vocals are used as another instrument in the track. I appreciate this on a technical level, but it does limit how deeply I get into it. Also, I couldn’t make out exactly what the vocalist (I can’t really call him a singer) said, which turned out to be “an eraser of love.” It’s a cool line, and actually means something, but it’s affected to the point where it’s difficult to understand. Figures I’d have an issue with that. :)
It’s a very cool track. I’d love to hear it at a party. It would be fun to dance to, what with the glow sticks and whooping noises and trails and such. It stays in my library, for sure, and I gave it 4 stars on iTunes. Even more importantly, it makes me look forward to hearing more Underworld tracks. I knew eleven years ago that I wanted to hear more from them, but I was too obsessed the death of grunge at the time.
Tomorrow, I’ll post the next exchange: Music Is Math v Starship Trooper.
Posted by Jonathan at 01:46 PM, 17 April 2007 | Comments (0)
I’m a lot like you were
For years I had wanted to meet Kurt Vonnegut. Then, about 10 years ago, I saw him on some sort of show. I forget the exact nature of it. Vonnegut must have talking about Hocus Pocus or maybe even Timequake. But the point here is that he was old, an old old man.
And there he was only 74.
I’ve never really made peace with the old man, in any form. And to see Vonnegut as an old man really bugged me. What time does to us. It’s cruel and pointless and vicious. But that’s my hang up.
Anyway, my point is that from that time on, I figured that I would never get to meet Vonnegut. Who knew I’d have 10 years to throw away not meeting him? Still, in that time, I grew to accept that idols only exist in our perception of them. The Kurt Vonnegut that I wanted to meet was already in his books. It’s a trite philosophy, for sure, and one that allows me to rationalize my situation where I will meet nobody whom I idolize. But it is true. I may never be friends with someone like Vonnegut, but all my friends are partially friends with him, because of the huge influence he’s had on me.
Posted by Jonathan at 04:25 PM, 13 April 2007 | Comments (0)
Kurt Vonnegut: 1922 – 2007
Excerpt from Breakfast of Champions, 1973:
Trout accepted the invitation after all. Two days before the Festival was to begin, he delivered Bill into the care of his landlady upstairs, and he hitchhiked to New York City—with five hundred dollars pinned to the inside of his underpants. The rest of the money he had put in a bank.
He went to New York first—because he hoped to find some of his books in pornography stores there. He had no copies at home. He despised them, but now he wanted to read out loud from them in Midland City—as a demonstration of a tragedy which was ludicrous as well.
He planned to tell people out there what he hoped to have in the way of a tombstone.
This was it:
More excerpts and memorials:
Jonathan Schwartz at This Modern World
Tom Tomorrow at This Modern World
Atrios at Eschaton
John Gruber at Daring Fireball
Skatje at Lacrimae Rerum
PZ Myers at Pharyngula
poputonian at Hullaballo
Posted by Jonathan at 02:54 PM, 12 April 2007 | Comments (1)
The Lexijon: Busted
There’s this shop on Rt 25 out in Smithtown called “U R Busted,” which cracks me up every time I see it. I think it’s a lawyer specializing in defending drug possession cases, but it may also be a bail bondsman. It’s not too clear. The sign, however, causes me great mirth whenever I pass by it.
It also makes me think of the time that my best friend, Erick, ragged on me for using the word busted, to describe something that was broken. We were working in Sears, which puts this is a tight 4-month frame in the winter of 1992. We were in the hardware section, meaning that half the time, we dealt with people returning old and broken tools under the Craftsman lifetime guarantee. I think Sears has since limited this program.
So someone came in with something that didn’t work, and I asked Erick where the replacement part would be, saying that the object in question was “busted.” Well this caused Erick great mirth. He kept repeating “busted,” and told other people that I said something was “busted.” When I said that it was a perfectly reasonable use of the word, he dismissed me. We eventually had to go to a dictionary—a paper one. We didn’t use computers or the internet to search for meaning back then. Entry number 2 of the word bust in my Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary has it as a synonym for break or burst. It was coined in the 1860s, which is even older than I am.
But it never left me how hard he ribbed me for using busted to mean something broken. I still use the word, and I enjoy “Busting Up a Starbucks,” by Mike Doughty, a bit more than I suspect most people do.
Posted by Jonathan at 12:29 PM, 08 April 2007 | Comments (0)
