This is a bit late, but for good reason. I don’t really know how to write about music without coming off as an insincere twat. I’m beginning to truly believe that the more a writer uses the words “incredible” and “interesting” as adjectives to describe a certain topic the less he or she actually knows about it. Think Thomas Haden Church’s character in Sideways feigning sophistication after he sucks down a splash of red wine. Maybe that’s a bad analogy. I still feel like a twat.
My initial inclination was to start this off with some drivelly bullshit about how “2009 was a great year for music, guyz.” While googling synonyms for “great” and “music”, however, I had somewhat of an epiphany—2009 was not a great year for music at all. I’m not even sure what the sentence “2009 was a great year for music” means, or if its even syntactically intelligible.
But really—a reoccurring theme in my life right now, as it undoubtedly is in the lives of most 21st century humans, is how easily and quickly such a plethora of information can be accessed via the internet. Here’s a link for those of you who don’t know what the internet is. Anyway. So this internet, you know, it makes accessible this massive, ever-expanding information database that, potentially, nearly everyone can access. Yeah, it’s great for most things. Maybe not so much for music.
This isn’t about any piracy’s effect on artistic integrity and profits or anything like that. I don’t feel like going into the inherently doomed relationship between art and money (though I will tell you it is inherently doomed.) This is more about the disgusting abundance of absolute nonsense available for listen on the internets. It used to be that the only real enemy was the trite garbage MTV thought they could peddle to the corporate-tit sucking nerfherders (hipsterbole). Now, despite MTV’s best efforts to maintain its shit spewing monopoly, the consumer’s real enemy is itself.
“Indie” music has reached the tipping point, for the most part. While “indie” music has, since its genesis, blatantly embodied a certain nonconformist counterculturism, it was rarely the actual music’s primary concern. The focus was on music as art, as something to dance to, as something intellectually sincere, as something “sonically intriguing.” Music, as a form, is impossible to apply practical purpose to, but I don’t think I’d be alone claiming it has some cerebral utility. Yeah.
A good portion of music tagged “indie” following the internet’s rise to glory has focused less this “cerebral utility” outlined above, and has instead made sounding or simply being artistically ironic the primary creative concern. This is probably due to the anxiety brought about by how insignificant the internet makes certain people feel. You know—“everything’s been done before—so let’s either completely copy it or mix it with Elliot Smith” Jerry Garcia said: “And for me there’s still more material than 20 lifetimes that I can use up.” Contemporary hipsters, seemingly, don’t believe this.
I get it. Shit’s ironic. Shit’s crazy. Postmodern life. Let’s mash together Britney Spears and Burial and just rock out with our cocks out. It’s not a guilty pleasure if its irrelevant. Fuck art let’s dance. etc.
I guess I’m just becoming increasingly bored with the bubblegummy insincerity of shit that’s played in hipster clubs and subsequently uploaded to blogs, whose writers regard it all as “artistically (or societally) significant.” Music as statement has its place, but I prefer my music a tinge more stimulating.
[side note: the sampler is still the most important instrument ever]
Alas, I’ll concede to the idea that handful of outstanding bands released some mesmeric material in 2009, and that in recent years, the surge in the amount of shitty music has accompanied a surge in the quality of work for a number of bands.
That said, lets get this rolling. Here are some albums released in 2009 from some artists that don’t believe every song’s been sung—and aren’t too insecure to prove it.
Rather: here are my FAVES from ‘09 (In no order.)
Though I’d prefer to list Burial’s Untrue, as it’s the album that introduced me to dubstep and enjoyed some serious playtime over the course of my 2009, it was released in 2007 and therefore doesn’t qualify for my list. Nonetheless—the compilation 5 Years of Hyperdub (Various Artists) is equally compelling and, for someone completely new to dubstep, wonderfully educational. Hyperdub is the premier dubstep label, and these are its most notable tracks. You can’t go wrong. The carefully complex yet haunting rhythms, lumbering bass lines, minimalistic samples, and meandering leads beckon weary travelers into desolate sonic landscapes, quietly inviting them to enjoy shelter in the music’s foggy emptiness. This music, as exemplified with 5, is stirringly apocalyptic—and all the better for it.
One of the most sincere and heartfelt records I’ve heard, Bill Callahan’s Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle centers on a broken yet hopeful man, lost in a world he himself paints equal parts brilliant and bittersweet—done so with a stirring mix of confidence and apprehension only an artist who’s all-too familiar with despair could successfully employ. Callahan doesn’t patronize listeners with literal descriptions of his troubles, but he doesn’t condescend to them either. He instead chooses to utilize extraordinary imagery, simple language and careful musicianship to tell his fragmented, tragic vignettes. He does so effortlessly, and the effect is captivating. Subtle strings, intelligent and dynamic percussion, diligent guitars, and most importantly, Callahan’s wise-man growl, all make for a timeless and compelling album, from start to finish.
Certainly, Bear in Heaven’s Beast Rest Forth Mouth is in many ways a continuation of one of indie-rock’s increasingly prevalent trends: the use of electronic equipment and computers as means towards a tribal, ritualistic sound. That said, unlike other artists who employ this methodology (Yeasayer, Animal Collective, Fuck Buttons), Bear in Heaven’s gauzy, reverb-laden sound is less concerned with Dionysian bodily expression, and uses it instead as path towards a kind of introspective salvation. Lots of people have been regarding Beast as a record of youthful angst (Pitchfork went as far to say it’s “a moody brew of surging hormones and consumptive crushes”), and while I believe that sentiment is partially true, the dark, savage undertones suggest something far more dire. Musically, the album’s symbol-heavy songwriting is complimented by impeccable production and careful programming, all with a practiced psychedelic sensibility. A smart, pensive, unforgiving album of sonic science fiction.
[MORE TO COME]
This song’s great.
As usual I’m experiencing writer’s block. The sort where, regardless of what I write, I’m not at all happy with myself or my abilities. Perhaps it’s due to not being in school for such a long time. Still, I feel like a fool for not pushing myself and writing more often.
Another layer down, I think I’m becoming more and more frightened by the prospect of expressing myself, as if I’m dizzyingly slipping down a never ending chasm of self-consciousness, and I know that I have to correct myself and grab onto the wall at some point—the earlier the better—and climb on out. I feel like I need to do something big, creative and great soon or I’ll be trapped inside myself forever.
That said, I’m going to start using this blog as a means of exercising my writing chops and honing my abilities.
Anyway, all that aside, I’m feeling a lot better since moving out of my parents’ house. Living on your own is (obviously) as liberating as it gets. Now I just need to get motivated.
Bill Callahan’s Sometime’s I Wish We Were an Eagle
Brian Eno’s Here Come the Warm Jets
Chad Vangaalen’s Soft Airplane and Infiniheart
Matthew Dear’s Asa Breed
Nosaj Thing’s Drift
The Tallest Man on Earth’s Shallow Graves
The Simpsons, Season 3 [TV]
Hiyao Miyazaki’s Ponyo [Film]
William Gibson’s Neuromancer [Novel]
David Allen’s Getting Things Done [Book]
Alan R. Hayakawa’s Language in Thought and Action [Book]
Metroid Prime: Trilogy
Ikea Malm bed
10-speed Fuji Palisades Road Bike
Computer
Other than that I’ve just been sort of sitting around waiting for school to start. I’m taking the following classes:
Political Science 51 - The Scientific Study of Politics
Introduction to the basic principles of the scientific study of politics. Research design and empirical analysis of data with applications to different methodological approaches and different substantive areas in political science.
Communication 152 - Theories of Persuasion
Survey of communication and social psychological theories of persuasion. Examination of influence tactics and message design. Contexts of application include product advertising, propaganda campaigns, and health promotion.
Political Science 162 - Elections and Voting Behavior
Analysis of American elections and partisan behavior; political socialization, political participation, partisanship and individual and group determinants of voting.
Anthropology 004 - Introduction to Anthropological Linquistics
Exploration of the role of language in social interaction and world view, minority languages and dialects, bilingualism, literacy, the social motivation of language change. Introduction of analytical techniques of linguistics and demonstration of their relevance to language in sociocultural issues.
SO FUN RIGHT?! WELL I’M GOING TO GET IN BED.
[jesus this post turned out ugly.]
![On August 16, 1960, [Joseph Kittinger] made the final jump from the Excelsior III at 102,800 feet (31,300 m). Towing a small drogue chute for initial stabilization, he fell for four minutes and 36 seconds, reaching a maximum speed of 614 mph [1][2] (988 km/h or 274 m/s) before opening his parachute at 18,000 feet (5,500 m). Pressurization for his right glove malfunctioned during the ascent, and his right hand swelled up to twice its normal size.[3] He set historical numbers for highest balloon ascent, highest parachute jump, longest drogue-fall (four minutes), and fastest speed by a human being through the atmosphere[4]. These are still current USAF records, but were not submitted for aerospace world records to the FIA. [From Wikipedia].
and this:](http://www.tumblr.com/photo/1280/nigh/111686584/1/wNEYM9XSnnt5orgoWQKyM7jB)
On August 16, 1960, [Joseph Kittinger] made the final jump from the Excelsior III at 102,800 feet (31,300 m). Towing a small drogue chute for initial stabilization, he fell for four minutes and 36 seconds, reaching a maximum speed of 614 mph [1][2] (988 km/h or 274 m/s) before opening his parachute at 18,000 feet (5,500 m). Pressurization for his right glove malfunctioned during the ascent, and his right hand swelled up to twice its normal size.[3] He set historical numbers for highest balloon ascent, highest parachute jump, longest drogue-fall (four minutes), and fastest speed by a human being through the atmosphere[4]. These are still current USAF records, but were not submitted for aerospace world records to the FIA. [From Wikipedia]. and this:
the ending to this movie is the most mind-blowingly incredible ending to any movie in the history of movies that end.
someone remind me to do a more in-depth post on this when it’s not 3:40am.
Eh, I’ve been bad with this blog nonsense lately, but hopefully my recent and awesome purchase of a Samsung N120 netbook will allow me to make more/better blog posts. or at least reblog at least some of the ridiculous and awesome things I find on the internet everyday.
I haven’t really been paying much attention to politics lately. This is just a tad disheartening, due primarily to the fact that I’m a political science major and because of this I feel obligated to demonstrate a certain level of interest in the subject at all times. Right now, however, the majority of news is far too jargon-laden, boring and—dare I say—inconsequential (or at least that’s how it seems) to pique my interest for long enough to even finish an article. Hopefully going to a real school will once again spark my interest in contemporary politics (oh, and btw I got into UC Davis.)
Obama’s meeting with Netenyahu or whatever that right-wing hawk’s name is was the only thing of any interest that occurred last week. Hell, even it was a letdown. Other than that, it seems like the news is just a maelstrom of boring celebrity stories, bizarro news reports involving fucked up fathers, op-eds about the innocuous future of the GOP, or worst of all, jargon-laden borefests with uninteresting “breaking” details concerning the recession. Oh, and a story about someone dying from swine-flu manages to sneak its way into the mix at least once a day. Ugh how boring.
A (recent) philosophical conundrums:
If every second is a new second and we’re constantly moving forward into oblivion, why is it that we find comfort in patterns? I apologize for my brazen fatalism, but this could all end tomorrow. Perhaps my pessimism is born out of too much time in International Relations class casually talking about nuclear war and deterrence and the prisoner’s dilemma all while suppressing all of the emotional and psychological ramifications associated with the topic, but really: life is completely irrational. Still—despite fatalistic reasoning and blunt realism, I find comfort in patterns and stories and memories and circles and cycles. Why?
A (short/bittersweet) anecdote:
While opening the pool on Thursday, I noticed a small tuft of feathers floating on top of one of the tarps. I pulled the tarp off of the pool and discovered the “tuft” was actually a dead baby bird. The guy I was working with casually picked the bird up and threw it in the trashcan, and to his knowledge, the ordeal was over, but the event stayed with me throughout the day. After the pool closed, and everyone, including my workmate, had left the facility, I went back to the trashcan where the bird had been dumped, pulled it out, and buried it on the hill next to the pool.
It was wildly melancholy, but beautiful in a way, I suppose. The burial accompanied a realization (a little hokey and cliche, but I honestly felt this) on my part: I am ridiculously lucky. For a number of reasons. First, I’m allowed to exist. For some awesome reason, due to nothing but chance and luck, atoms came together, biology happened, and formed me. Secondly, I was born a human being. Third, I’m healthy. Fourth, I was born as a human being with relatively no true adversity and plenty of privilege, into a society that both empowers and protects me.
I’m lucky to be alive. Not because I was hooked on heroin and now I’m clean or any sensationalist bullshit like that. We’re all lucky to be alive. Existence itself is absolutely sensational and you shouldn’t take it for granted.
/end gleeblog
Well, you don’t say.
My First Slippery Slope Argument; Perpetual Causality
