Better to have blogged and lost than to have never blogged at all.

Friday, December 20, 2013

best of 2013

You ever notice how impatient we are when waiting for things to finish or conclude? And then, when whatever it is we're waiting for finally arrives we very quickly move on to the next thing that needs to be done and start to impatiently wait for that? Like, "I'm looking forward to getting this year over with." And then, "I can't wait to see what this next year has to offer." Or, "I'm really looking forward to finishing this semester so that I can graduate." And then, "I can't wait to find a job so that I can make some money." Or, "I'm really looking forward to the day that my daughter learns to walk." And then, "I can't wait until my daughter can do whatever next thing is developmentally appropriate."

This past year I found myself doing a lot of that. Complete self-disclosure - I started making a list of the best albums of 2013 in January. This year more than ever before I have compiled a list more out of obligation than anything else. I have thought, "I'm looking forward to the end of the year so that I can write a post about it." And I have already caught myself wondering what albums will make my list next year. The problem here is a rather obvious one - in focusing so much on results or conclusions it's easy to miss things in the present, in the here and now.  This is, of course, not the first time I've had to learn this lesson. I've done my fair share of waiting and held my fair share of regret about the things I've missed in my impatience. I suspect that it is a lesson that I will spend most of my life trying to learn. After all, there are an unending number of things to distract us from the here and now.

In reviewing the albums on my list for 2013 I have found there are things that I missed. There are records that I wished I had spent more time with, some that made the list and some that didn't. I suspect that if I'd taken more time with Modern Vampires of the City that I would have valued it more. The same could be said for several others in the list below. Over the last week or so I tried to make up for lost time and have been reminded just how great some of the music of 2013 was. In compiling the list, I've simply put the albums I spent the most time with at the top. If I made this list again next week it would likely be different. My hope is that maybe somebody will discover something new, something worth spending time with in the here and now. And if not, there is sure to be more in the weeks, months and year to come.

50. Oddisee - Tangible Dream
44. William Tyler - Impossible Truth
39. Pure X - Crawling Up the Stairs
35. Glasser - Interiors 
30. Thee Oh Sees - Floating Coffin
22. Neko Case - The Worse Things Get, The Harder I Fight, The Harder I Fight, The More I Love You
17. Local Natives - Humming Bird
16. Justin Timberlake - The 20/20 Experience


13. Blood Orange - Cupid Deluxe
  9. Phosphorescent - Muchacho
  5. Rhye - Woman
  1. The National - Trouble Will Find Me








Friday, November 15, 2013

strange, indeed.

When I'm home with my soon-to-be two-year old daughter we usually listen to music during mealtimes, mostly as a way to preserve my sanity while she tosses food all over the kitchen but also because I enjoy exposing her to a variety of singers and sounds. This morning while she was slinging oatmeal we were soothed by Billie Holiday's Ultimate Collection and I found myself impatiently awaiting "Strange Fruit" because, I confess, it is really the only Holiday song that I am familiar with. Beyond that it's also beautiful and sorrowful and haunting and powerful and emotional and just about everything I think good music should be. When the wait was finally over and the first few notes started playing I said to my daughter, "This is a great, great song, my dear." I imagined that someday she might agree. 


About halfway through the song, however, it occurred to me that before she would grow to truly appreciate this song and its sentiment I would have to explain to her the history of pain and suffering that the song so poetically captures. This realization made my heart hurt. There is no way to shield her from the shame and guilt she is likely to feel as a white person in this country. There is no way to erase the immense suffering that has occurred throughout history and still lives with all of us to this day. I'll have to try and help her makes sense of this. I suppose that I consider this an honor, and my hope is that someday she will allow herself to feel ashamed, to feel responsible in some way and to experience forgiveness. My hope is that someday she will hear "Strange Fruit" and will know a deeper empathy for those that have suffered at the hands of white people. My hope is she will use that empathy to ensure she prevents such suffering from occurring again. 

Saturday, February 2, 2013

the cold.

The link between music and emotion is such a great mystery. I'm speaking strictly from a listener's perspective, although the ability to create music as an outlet for emotion is a pretty mysterious process. But for me, what makes a truly great song is one which evokes an emotional reaction. I'm not going to pretend as if I only feel sadness or sorrow in the winter when the skies are grey and the wind feels so cruel but if I let it, the coldness of winter often cuts its way inside of me. I have found myself trying to choose music that echoes this coldness and sorrow. I have been seeking an empathetic harmony or a chord that speaks of deep sadness. I have found several, while taking care not to select recordings that seem to leave no room for hope. Because even in my darkest night I have somehow managed to cling to a tiny thread of hope.



Mount Eerie - Ocean Roar (2012)

You're in the midst of a driving rain storm. It is after dark. The highway is a blur. Between the wind and water and brake lights there is chaos. "Pale Lights" serves as a guide. It swirls and thrashes, much like the rest of the album. But it also gets quiet and demands focus. Throughout this album there are periods of desolation, peace and madness.





Low - Things We Lost in the Fire (2001)

There are few others that know how to capture the beauty and the lure of the darkness. A trusty companion when stepping into the shadows. Their voices sound so good that it hurts. They sing of sweetness while playing sadness. They lament ("Dinosaur Act"), name call ("Whore") and beg for grace ("Laser Beam"). Their quiet restraint demands reflection and seeks honesty.




Portishead - Roseland NYC Live (1998)

Few hold the cold the way that they do. There is longing in every line. This is one of those rare live recordings that manages to make the songs sound better than the studio tracks. The shadows are alive here. At one turn they are stabbing ("Cowboys"), at another they are practically crying ("Roads"). How can it all feel good? "Strangers" leaves you suspecting that those shadows are more powerful than you first believed.



The National - High Violet (2010)

They are telling your story. They are reading your thoughts and reshaping them as riddles. They are up late and drunk with "Sorrow" (It's in my honey, it's in my milk). Tragedy, fear, regret, loss, debt - the American dream. It's all very mixed up. But they are trying, with each defeat and in the face of dysfunction. With "Little Faith" they are trying.




Fever Ray - Fever Ray (2009)

Do you know how long the darkness lasts during Scandinavian winters? Look it up. It's a long time. As one half of the Knife, Karin Dreijer Andersson makes beautifully bizarre electronic music. As Fever Ray she does much of the same. It's twisted and at times spooky ("If I Had a Heart"). Her voice is everywhere, traveling through twilight and over the snow covered darkness. Yet, at times she almost seems playful despite the absence of the sun. Brewed in the shadows with memories of the light, a sense of return is almost ever present.


Genius/GZA - Liquid Swords (1995)

Besides perhaps some of El-P's work, I cannot think of a colder rap record. This is living in the streets, fighting for a dollar, unsure of friend or foe type of cold. And the centerpiece is "Cold World" which captures the utter hopelessness that exists in the inner city. This is a lonely, wind-blown wasteland. The gritty, leaky basement production that is undeniably Wu-Tang has never communicated so much on its own. There is no filler, no wasted breath. There is only a single minded focus on survival and the dark deeds that are required to ensure it.



M83 - Dead Cities, Red Seas and Lost Ghosts (2004)

Look at the cover art. Are they dead? Or maybe they're taking a break to admire the endless grey sky and falling snow? Perhaps they're just making snow angels? The music will not provide many clues. It seems all three could be true. Soaring over mountains and tumbling into valleys, making what has become traditionally epic electronic soundscapes, you are forced to feel the frozen grass and bleakness of the plains while clinging to the hope that the trees and the hills beyond hold more warmth. "On a White Lake, Near a Green Mountain" turns into "Run Into Flowers" or vice versa.