be still.

It's a strange thing that in a city with a million and half people living on top of one another so many of us still suffer from an epidemic of loneliness. We deal with other people every day, at work, on the street, in our commute, yet at the end of the day we feel alone. The ways in which we can interact with each other are ever expanding but we so rarely make an actual connection with another human and we feel increasing unknown. Perhaps that's the issue right there. We want to be known. We don't just want to have a laugh over drinks or discuss the news. Those things are fun, but leave us wanting something more, something deeper. That wanting tugs and pulls at us, it grows into a desperation, and we start to feel like being alone is torture and it's not normal and grasp for things and people to fill this gaping hole inside of us. At least this is how it often works for me.

But you know what? Being alone is okay. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Yes, life is best when enjoyed in the company of those you love, those that really know you but sometimes I start to think that I need to have someone with me every time I leave my apartment. And the truth is I don't. If I can quiet the voices inside of me, the ones that are clamoring for me to do something, anything to find relief for the loneliness I'm feeling, I find that I'm perfectly comfortable with myself. I'm good company for me. I try to "cling to the promise," as Henri Nouwen puts it, and I put on some music.

This past weekend I was trolling through my iTunes library and found some stillness in a couple of old, dusty places. Believe it or not, sometimes I forget about all the great music I have at my fingertips but from the very first note of "I'm Old Fashioned" on the Stan Getz/Chet Baker live recording Quintessence 1 I felt myself relax. There is something special about Stan's playing. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not an expert on jazz, but I think the sound of his tenor sax is brilliant. It instantly pushes the "calm down" button inside of me, even when Chet is scatting in my ear. I've read that this is not Baker's best work, but to be honest I really have nothing to gauge it with. Perhaps I should expand my knowledge of his work and the work of other jazz greats in general, but for now, I'm content with the bits and pieces I have from the Stan Getz discography. Baker's presence doesn't really make that much of a difference to me. It's not a distraction, at any rate.


Stan Getz/Chet Baker - Quintessence 1 (1983)

Scrolling further down the "S" section of my library I came across Stars of the Lid. The opening track of their most recent offering, the two disc set Stars of the Lid and Their Refinement of the Decline, had a similar stilling effect on me. I had my headphones on. It was just after 10am on Saturday morning, and I sat frozen in my chair, ears glued to the slow rise and fall of their ambient drone. This was a rare treat, one that I really should enjoy more often but do not take the opportunity to do so because this is not really music to listen to while you're driving or while your doing chores around the house. It requires your attention because it's subtle, it's quiet (most of the time) and you must listen with careful ears to appreciate the dynamics. I tried to listen to more of this album on the way to work on Monday and I ended up drowning it out with the tired, sleepy anger and frustration in my head. The Vine St. Expressway and Stars of the Lid do not mix. Lesson learned.


Stars of the Lid - And the Refinement of the Decline (2007)

Now, if I could find some music that does, indeed, inspire calm in the middle of rush hour traffic that would be terrific. Regardless, I was struck at how quickly and noticeably the two albums above got me into a quiet place of internal stillness.

reflections

I've entered another one of those blank stages. I feel stagnant, lazy. Maybe the high heat and humidity of this miserable summer has had something to do with that. It's hard to be outside in the punishing sun with no where to take cover and no way around sweating through my shirt. I've been listening to some new records that I've really enjoyed like Mines from Menomena, Part II: The New December from Fol Chen, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty from Big Boi and Disconnect From Desire from School Of Seven Bells. All the time spent indoors in the air conditioning, however, has caused me to reflect, yet again, on who I am, where I came from and what got me here. That's unpleasant work sometimes. Reflection can so often bring up the old, painful memories. It sheds light on those embarrassing and shameful moments, but the truth is it's the dark things, as well as the light, that have made me who I am today. I've been trying to relate this to music as well, considering what albums have made the most impact on my ears and have shaped the way I listen to things. I think I've come up with a few that I'd like to share. Some are probably obvious and seem like an easy choice. Others may be a little embarrassing. It's all true regardless, and it makes up my music history.


Bruce Springsteen - Born In The USA (1984)

When I was a kid my dad used to work out regularly in our basement. We had a rowing machine, a nordic track and some free weights. Dad used to put on his sweats, turn up the stereo and go to work. I would often observe from the basement steps or participate by dancing to the music. The playlist was rather exclusive. It was usually Sports (1983) by Huey Lewis & The News, Eliminator (1983) by ZZ Top or Born In The USA. The funny thing is that my mom was the big Boss fan, not my dad. Perhaps it was his guilty pleasure. At any rate, songs like "Downbound Train," "My Hometown" and "I'm On Fire" were burned into my brain (and that's not mention the mega hits from this album, "Dancing in the Dark" and "Glory Days"). At the time I didn't think much of the music. It was my parents music. Now I hear Springsteen's influence in every other band that wants to be somebody, from Dr. Dog to the Killers to Arcade Fire.


Sam Cooke - The Man And His Music (1986)

What a voice! Sam was another favorite of my mother's and I was exposed to him at a young age. I used to love singing along with him on hits like "Cupid" and "Wonderful World". Still do. He had great songs along with great arrangements and his voice was golden. "A Change Is Gonna Come" is excellent and I'm not ashamed to say that there have been times when it's moved me to tears. I'm not usually a fan of compilation albums, preferring the full length LPs over a collection of hits, but I grew up with this one and it's special to me. It's also out of print so, good luck finding a new copy. I was a bit disappointed a few years back to read about Sam Cooke the man and his womanizing ways. I was tempted to let it tarnish the brilliance of his music, especially the gospel songs, but then I remembered that he was human just like the rest of us.



A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory (1991)

This was my first rap cassette, purchased at age 12. Before this I was listening to things you might expect a child to like. Stuff my mom had passed on like the Rascals and the Monkees and then stuff from the radio like Roxette, Boyz II Men and Kris Kross. The Low End Theory changed everything for me and set me on a path that led deep through '90s rap, hip-hop and R&B, and then later through jazz. Needless to say, it disturbed my parents. Of course, I wasn't aware at the time but Tribe was changing the game with this album. It wove jazz and hip-hop together in a way that few albums before it did.



Wu-Tang Clan - Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) (1993)

If Tribe disturbed my parents, 36 Chambers would have killed them. Fortunately I was smart enough to hide it from them. It's dark and grimey, with that basement sound that is now characteristic of the Wu. Certainly not something a 13 year-old should listen to. It's rated R. I can remember being shocked at the language, knowing right away that most adults I knew wouldn't approve. I loved it and still do. It was the next step into rap music for me. I was fascinated by the stories they told. It was all foreign to me, a young white boy living in the suburbs. It was a window into another world, one full of drugs, violence and street poetry. At the same time it was also a world of make believe crafted from bits and pieces of old kung-fu flicks and comic book persona's. The combination of real street drama and bizarre martial art fantasy was brilliant. I couldn't get enough.



Soundgarden - Superunknown (1994)

It wasn't really until after high school that I would venture into other genres besides rap and hip-hop but before that there were a few albums that got my attention. Pearl Jam's Ten was one of them, and it perhaps developed a longer lasting bond, but Superunknown really connected for me. I have no doubt that it's dark atmosphere is the reason. The mood is not a far cry from that of 36 Chambers or any 2Pac, Biggie or Bone Thugs-N-Harmony record. The emotion is not all that different either. It's bleak, sad, angry and a bit self destructive. And I was a teenager. This one would be my companion and my ruler when I finally decided I could listen to alternative music.


Outkast - ATLiens (1996)

This is what I decided rap music should sound like. Story telling, street knowledge, cultural awareness and dope beats. Somehow they managed to turn from the gangsta tendencies that littered their debut (which really didn't suit them so well to begin with) to this middle of the road classic. It's possible to observe and report the violence in your neighborhood without taking part. It's possible to want to change a situation but still contribute to the problem. Life is messy. So is fame. "Elevators (Me & You)" is probably one of my favorite songs of all time. I can remember reciting the lyrics for some kids my age when I was in Romania. They seemed impressed. Or maybe they just thought it was funny. I enjoyed it in either case. Big Boi and Andre remain in a class by themselves. Who else would have had the guts to release songs like "E.T. (Extraterrestrial)," which does not include a single drum beat, or "Millennium," which exposes some of their insecurities and features a wordless chorus that consists of humming (if you can call it that. It's more like grunting). They made it work somehow, placing them back to back in the track list.


Radiohead - OK Computer (1997)

My freshman year of college I roomed with a good friend from high school who had very different taste in music. He was a grudge fan and didn't care much for rap or hip-hop. He would listen to Pearl Jam's "Jeremy" and The Bends by Radiohead over and over again until it would make me sick and I'd yell at him to turn it off. That's when he would turn it up. We were sort of like siblings. We enjoyed getting on each others nerves now and then. I would get back at him by refusing to take out the trash. It wasn't until a couple of years later when I was forced to diagram the sonic landscape of "Subterranean Homesick Alien" for a recording class that I understood Ben's obsession with Radiohead. They are on a whole other level. Being asked to diagram that song turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It completely changed the way I listened to music. I was suddenly aware of the entire sonic field and could isolate sounds and instruments in songs. This album made me appreciate how the little things come together to make great things.


Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights (2002)

I'm not really sure how to explain this one. I just feel like it opened me up to a bunch of new things. There was a time when I thought that if something wasn't on the radio it wasn't worth hearing. Turn On The Bright Lights completely disproved that for me. It was good timing because although my recording classes and Radiohead had widened my gaze,the side effect was that most mainstream, radio friendly songs had started sounding one dimensional and generally boring. Suddenly here's Interpol and this stuff called "Indie" music ready to quench my thirst. Bright Lights also helped me expand my catalog backwards after realizing that there was a bunch of classic stuff made in the '80s that I had never heard (i.e. Joy Division and the Cure). Interpol brought both the present and the past together for me in one really great album. How nice of them.


Portishead - Dummy (1994)

Also in my recording classes were some folks who were both talented musicians and informed members of the underground and indie culture. In one of our first classes we went around the room and shared what music we had been listening to. I admitted somewhat sheepishly that Pete Yorn's musicforthemorningafter had been playing in my car on the way to class. By the end of the semester these guys had pointed me to a ton of great albums. The one that I wished I had known about years earlier was Dummy. I'd been listening to Wu-Tang all those years without a clue that several of their samples came from Portishead. This was a blow to my hip-hop ego. I got over it, after a while, and then gladly shared the entire Portishead discography with everyone I knew. What this album really taught me, though, is that rap music has had a deep impact on a whole slew of other artists and it led me to people like DJ Shadow, Diplo, Lamb, Massive Attack and Bjork.


Tom Waits - Mule Variations (1999)

I used to be a part of a group of folks that would swap records, hoping to expand our collections and our ears. Most of these folks were music snobs and I don't think they would mind me saying so. To be honest, I did more taking than giving, feeling that what I had to share was not worthy enough. This is one of the treasure's that I took. In perhaps the same way as Turn On The Bright Lights, Mule Variations softened me towards two really great things: Tom Waits and classic singer/songwriter types. I had a bit of a hard time getting past Tom's voice. It's not easy to swallow, you must admit. Something about this album made it click for me though. It's so earthy and dusty and it feels so real, like a piece of Tom himself was somehow used to make it. I went on a Tom Waits binge after I heard this album a couple of years ago. It was all I listened to for weeks. Somehow getting into Tom made it possible for me to explore other greats like Nick Drake, Jackson Browne, Neil Young and Bob Dylan. There is a link somewhere in there that I can't quite put my finger on but trust me, it's there.


I'm sure I could keep listing albums that have advanced my music experience. I'm thinking of people like Digable Planets, Arrested Development, Mogwai, the Beatles, Pink Floyd...perhaps I'll write about them and more some other time. The ten I've listed here are just the first ones that came to mind. They're also albums that I frequently turn to when uncertainty paralyzes me. Right now...I'm off to get some ice cream.