Every semester since I started college, I've been a DJ for the Colgate radio station, WRCU, which has some of the best equipment and student participation of any college station in the country. Last semester I was in London, but starting this Wednesday I'm back with my show, Eclecticism. This is, of course, very exciting since my show has been one of my favorite things to do over the last 3 years, but it's also good news for you, as we stream all our shows live online!
My show will be every week at:
5-6pm Wednesday
http://wrcufm.com -> Click "Listen in"
You can follow what I play on the site or on my playlist, which you'll be able to access from my show page: http://wrcufm.com/showInfo.php?id=1420
If you're wondering whether or not to listen in, give it a shot and I bet you'll find something you like. I play a wide variety of music including substantial representations of Indie, folk, newgrass, art rock, prog rock, classic rock, jazz, classical, electronica, R&B, flamenco, world, alternative, and more. What you won't hear is mainstream country, hip-hop, rap, or Bieber/Britney-pop.
Catch me this week and leave comments, feedback, or requests on Twitter at #eclecticism. Spread the word.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Indie Collaboration of the Year
This year at Colgate I will be writing music columns for the Colgate Maroon-News a couple times a month, and yesterday marked the release of this semester's first issue. My column is featured here: http://bit.ly/oTIOXA. However, I thought I'd put the "unedited" version on here to correspond to how I would have posted it.
The convergence of two of the biggest musical stories of 2011 hit Youtube on August 24 in the form of a collaboration between James Blake and Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon called “Fall Creek Boys’ Choir.” Both artists rocked the indie music scene in different ways this year. Bon Iver’s self-titled sophomore album was lauded by critics and fans alike, garnering early nominations for album of the year. James Blake, on the other hand, is a twenty-one year old rising star whose debut is making the same kinds of waves that Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago made in 2007 which precipitated Justin Vernon’s meteoric rise to indie stardom.
Vernon, the man behind the commonly-mispronounced French moniker, is a frequently-featured voice on albums by artists ranging from the relative obscurity of Anaïs Mitchell to the universally-known Kanye West. While his debut, a chilly concoction of solitude soaked in melancholy, shook the indie world and forever earned its spot on winter playlists, his second full-length album overshadowed this year’s summer scene. Without abandoning his core sound, Vernon turned sorrow and loss into optimism and grandeur, and added permanent band members which had been absent from the cabin-confined solitude of For Emma. Vernon has progressed as an artist without compromising his essence and appealed to a new fan base without losing his loyal following. From the confident opening riff of “Perth” to the spacious beauty of “Holocene” to the surprisingly unironic conclusion “Beth/Rest,” the album is emotional without being sentimental, obscure without being unrelatable and expansive without being grandiose. Vernon’s vocals remain the focus, but the instrumentation assumes a larger role, as with the hauntingly beautiful guitar line of “Holocene.” Its repetitive simplicity drives the song forward to the climactic moments when Vernon, confronted with his smallness in the face of both nature and humanity, concedes, “And at once I knew/ I was not magnificent.” Where For Emma was confined, Bon Iver is vast and expansive; where the former was solitary and introverted, the latter embraces humanity and nature alike. The track list is a litany of locales to which Vernon has paid tribute by elevating them with broader themes of the human condition; this is evident in “Calgary,” which speaks not of rodeos but of aging and a realistically evolving marriage. With concerns of a sophomore slump firmly behind him, we can only wait and see what aspect of humanity Vernon will plumb next.
James Blake’s debut did not generate the anticipation that Bon Iver did this year, but it has since received the kind of critical acclaim that Vernon himself received four years ago. Blake, who cites Vernon as an influence, produces a more electronic brand of indie music influenced by dubstep. His music is less devoted to expansiveness and more to repetition and development of a simple idea throughout a song. For example, “I Never Learnt to Share” is almost five minutes long but consists of only two lines : “My brother and my sister don’t speak to me/But I don’t blame them.” However, the magic of the song lies in its increasingly intricate layers of harmonies and constant crescendo of emotion. Blake manipulates vocal lines and makes liberal use of vocal effects, but the texture of the album is paradoxically organic. Rather than masking the emotional depth of Blake’s lyrics, the heavy production often lends deeper insights into his psyche. In “Lindesfarne I”, Blake’s heavily electronicized voice is the only instrument, the song’s power derived from its simplicity and sparseness. The centerpiece of the album is Blake’s cover of Feist’s “Limit to Your Love,” which surpasses the original and highlights his staggering ability to craft, pace and structure songs. Overall, if this album is any indication, James Blake may be at the start of his own meteoric rise.
It is fitting, then, that two artists who have helped define the musical landscape of 2011 should pool their considerable skills in collaboration. The track “Fall Creek Boys’ Choir” features Vernon’s vocals and Blake’s production, a balanced melding of the two artists’ best strengths. Predictably, the track relies on both atmosphere and repetition, but slowly grows as it meanders down its dreamy path. The one flaw the track exhibits is a repeated effect that the Huffington Post describes as “dog hoots” that lacks both pitch and adequate percussiveness and derails an otherwise enjoyable track. The Youtube video, which dropped on August 24, previews Blake's new EP, Enough Thunder, an expansion of the collaboration which can only be good news for fans of either artist.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Best of 2010 Countdown
It's that time of year again where critics and music buffs start to compile their lists of top music from the last twelve months and then disparage the lists compiled by their fellow critics and music buffs as being "all wrong." Today on my radio show (which you can listen to at www.wrcufm.com at 1pm) I began my countdown of the top 20 albums of 2010 and will continue it next week. So as not to spoil the surprise, I'll only post the ones I had time to play today, and edit this post next week to complete the list. 2010 was an incredibly strong year, so if one of your favorites didn't make the cut it doesn't (necessarily) mean that I didn't like it a lot. Several in the teens and twenties might have made the top 10 one of the last few years.
20. Cary Brothers - Under Control
19. The New Pornographers - Together
18. Stars - The Five Ghosts
17. Jimmy Eat World - Invented
16. Manic Street Preachers - Postcards From A Young Man
15. Sufjan Stevens - The Age of Adz
14. The Black Keys - Brothers
13. Badly Drawn Boy - It's What I'm Thinking (Part One: Photographing Snowflakes)
12. The Weepies - Be My Thrill
11. Antony & The Johnsons - Swanlights
10. Sarah Kirkland Snider - Penelope
9. The National - High Violet
8. Band of Horses - Infinite Arms
7. Sun Kil Moon - Admiral Fell Promises
6. Ray Lamontagne - God Willin' and the Creek Don't Rise
5. Midlake - The Courage of Others
4. Horse Feathers - Thistled Spring
3. Tallest Man on Earth - The Wild Hunt
2. Sufjan Stevens - All Delighted People EP
1. The Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
UPDATE:
I've debated whether to include this in this post for a while, but I figured why not? Without fail, any list will be altered as time goes by, but such alterations become largely irrelevant as the here and now are what is important when it comes to music lists. However, I felt compelled to mention this because the two alterations affect the top of the list. Absent from this list due to its discovery in late December is Janelle Monae's fantastic album The ArchAndroid, and far too low on the list is Sun Kil Moon's amazing Admiral Fell Promises which reveals its greatness slowly but beautifully (too slowly to make the first draft of this list and my radio broadcast unfortunately). Therefore, the updated top 3 for the year actually go as follows:
1. Janelle Monae - The ArchAndroid
2. Sun Kil Moon - Admiral Fell Promises
3. Tallest Man on Earth - The Wild Hunt
20. Cary Brothers - Under Control
19. The New Pornographers - Together
18. Stars - The Five Ghosts
17. Jimmy Eat World - Invented
16. Manic Street Preachers - Postcards From A Young Man
15. Sufjan Stevens - The Age of Adz
14. The Black Keys - Brothers
13. Badly Drawn Boy - It's What I'm Thinking (Part One: Photographing Snowflakes)
12. The Weepies - Be My Thrill
11. Antony & The Johnsons - Swanlights
10. Sarah Kirkland Snider - Penelope
9. The National - High Violet
8. Band of Horses - Infinite Arms
7. Sun Kil Moon - Admiral Fell Promises
6. Ray Lamontagne - God Willin' and the Creek Don't Rise
5. Midlake - The Courage of Others
4. Horse Feathers - Thistled Spring
3. Tallest Man on Earth - The Wild Hunt
2. Sufjan Stevens - All Delighted People EP
1. The Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
UPDATE:
I've debated whether to include this in this post for a while, but I figured why not? Without fail, any list will be altered as time goes by, but such alterations become largely irrelevant as the here and now are what is important when it comes to music lists. However, I felt compelled to mention this because the two alterations affect the top of the list. Absent from this list due to its discovery in late December is Janelle Monae's fantastic album The ArchAndroid, and far too low on the list is Sun Kil Moon's amazing Admiral Fell Promises which reveals its greatness slowly but beautifully (too slowly to make the first draft of this list and my radio broadcast unfortunately). Therefore, the updated top 3 for the year actually go as follows:
1. Janelle Monae - The ArchAndroid
2. Sun Kil Moon - Admiral Fell Promises
3. Tallest Man on Earth - The Wild Hunt
Thursday, August 12, 2010
The Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
In 2004, which was a very good year for music in general, The Arcade Fire burst onto the scene with the now-classic Funeral headlined by the anthemic "Wake Up", the band's most recognizable song to date, having been featured everywhere from sports montages to the trailer for the Where the Wild Things Are movie. Achieving "indie masterpiece" status practically from day one, it's the kind of album many believed would stand as the band's crowning glory, making 2006's disappointing Neon Bible an easier letdown. But for a set of such talented musicians, we were foolish to believe they would peak with their debut. Though there may be some progress-fearing die-hards who will cling to their copy of one of the most celebrate indie albums of the decade, the truth is that Funeral has indeed been topped. 2010 has been an excellent year for music as well, but The Suburbs may already top a list of exceptional albums, and, perhaps more significantly, become the band's new magnum opus.
It should be noted that there is no "Wake Up" on this album, no radio-ready single that begs to be shouted at the top of one's lungs in a crowded arena. Instead, this is one of those albums that is meant to be listened to from beginning to end to truly appreciate it. The band's maturity really shines through in just about every aspect of the record, from the lyrics and musicianship to the vocals and production. The album contains an excellent range of styles and sounds which complement and contrast each other very well due to the expertly crafted progression of songs. Many tracks run right into the next and themes and lyrics are revisited later. For example, the word "pure" appears in several of the songs, and the lyric "First they built the road/ Then they built the town/That's why we're still driving around and around" appears in back to back tracks "Month of May" and "Wasted Hours", whose very different sounds give the words a subtly different meaning each time.
The overall theme of the album, of course, is the suburbs, and finding one's place in the suburban world. There is a broad range of emotions associated with this conflict that the band addresses throughout the album, but the real genius lies in its progression from beginning to end. The listener is taken through resigned acceptance, self-deception, resistance, and mourning. In the last true song on the album, "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)" they lament "Sometimes I wonder if the world is so small/That we can never get away from the sprawl." Still, it is more than just the external conflict the "Modern Man" must face in today's world; it is the internal struggle that predominates. On the other side of these struggles, the narrator reflects "All my old friends, they don't know me now."
The truth is, while each individual song can stand out very strongly on its own, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The album will likely stand as The Arcade Fire's greatest achievement due to its complexity, the depth and relatability of its message, and its mastery of a diverse range of sounds. The Suburbs should vault The Arcade Fire into a class of their own. This is one of the few albums I've heard this year that I loved from the first moment I heard it and loved it more each time I listened. Often first listens that I really like will diminish, whereas the true classics take some growing, but this album started strong and still hasn't gotten remotely old a week later. Additionally, with over an hour of music (and no filler) spanning 16 tracks, you really get your money's worth. Few albums that long are quality from beginning to end these days.
To break down the individual tracks is difficult for reasons already mentioned, but for the sake of giving each track its due, I will do so:
1. The Suburbs (8/10): The first single, the song's main weakness is that it goes on a little too long, but it is still an excellent track. The guitar interludes are probably my favorite part of the song, but the overall atmosphere of the song endeared the album to me immediately and gave me a lot more hope for it than I had prior to listening to the album, which is impressive for one song to do (most expectations are either confirmed immediately or changed with great difficulty). Establishes the very different vibe from Neon Bible.
2. Ready to Start (8/10): This track is a little more what one might expect from The Arcade Fire, and is slightly reminiscent of "No Cars Go". A catchy track that builds a lot of energy for the album.
3. Modern Man (10/10): One of the best tracks on the album, this song plays with your sense of rhythm, possibly reinforcing the sense that there is something not quite right with the "modern man", an inconsistency in the beat of his "perfect" life. The song simultaneously lures the listener into a sense of complacency as it drifts along and unsettles the listener with its rhythmic irregularity and the song's message.
4. Rococo: (7/10): Very different and interesting, though some may find it slightly boring in the beginning. The chorus, consisting of the word "rococo" sung over and over is actually quite endearing and catchy.
5. Empty Room (9/10): Fast paced strings and electric guitars bring up the energy level once again on the track that sounds closest to classic Arcade Fire. Its anthemic chorus of "When I'm by myself I can be myself/And my life is coming but I don't know when" is one of the best moments on the CD.
6. City With No Children (8/10): This one's a grower. I wasn't a huge fan the first time I heard it, but the chorus and the guitar and bass line really move this one along.
7. Half Light I (5/10): More of a lead-in to Half Light II, though it could probably be shorter. Still, nothing on this album is noticeable as being egregiously bad, or even all that skippable. On its own, this song isn't great but it functions well in the context of the album and I still don't skip it.
8. Half Light II (9/10): The middle of the album contains two of the best songs and really are the tracks around which the rest of the album revolves, musically and thematically. This track calls for resistance to the takeover of suburbia, asking "that I won't live to see/the death of of everything that's wild" and accusing "Some people say/we've already lost/But they're afraid to pay the cost."
9. Suburban War (10/10): This is the best song of the album and the other track at the very heart of this album. This track finds the band at the height of its maturity. At times, it sounds like it could melt into Bruce Springsteen's "Atlantic City." indeed, this track draws the most comparisons to Springsteen of all, despite his heavy influence throughout the record. Such comparisons could sink most artists, but they are well-deserved in this case, and "Suburban War" could stack up nicely against some of Springsteen's best.
10. Month of May (9/10): A fast-tempoed piece that would seem out of place on this album were it placed anywhere else. This track shows the band branching out a bit and embracing something slightly outside of their comfort zone, but they pull it off nicely.
11. Wasted Hours (8/10): The last of the four-song set that I think marks the highlight of the album, this song lazily meanders appropriately for its title.
12. Deep Blue (7/10): This one sometimes seems to pass by without me realizing I listened to it, and almost seemed to be continuation of "Wasted Hours" the first time I heard it. This one will either grow on you or bore you.
13. We Used to Wait (8/10): This is another grower which starts off slow and builds intensity until its climactic ending.
14. Sprawl 1 (Flatland) (5/10): I could bump it up another couple points for its lyrics and for its strength as a lead-in to part II, but individually this is definitely the weakest song on the album.
15. Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) (10/10): Catchy beats, thought-provoking lyrics, an 80s dance atmosphere, female vocals, what's not to like about this one? Excellent closer to the album and a great summary of the thematic material as well.
16. The Suburbs (Continued) (6/10): Essentially an outro, this is a more melancholy take on the album's opener.
Album rating: 9/10
It should be noted that there is no "Wake Up" on this album, no radio-ready single that begs to be shouted at the top of one's lungs in a crowded arena. Instead, this is one of those albums that is meant to be listened to from beginning to end to truly appreciate it. The band's maturity really shines through in just about every aspect of the record, from the lyrics and musicianship to the vocals and production. The album contains an excellent range of styles and sounds which complement and contrast each other very well due to the expertly crafted progression of songs. Many tracks run right into the next and themes and lyrics are revisited later. For example, the word "pure" appears in several of the songs, and the lyric "First they built the road/ Then they built the town/That's why we're still driving around and around" appears in back to back tracks "Month of May" and "Wasted Hours", whose very different sounds give the words a subtly different meaning each time.
The overall theme of the album, of course, is the suburbs, and finding one's place in the suburban world. There is a broad range of emotions associated with this conflict that the band addresses throughout the album, but the real genius lies in its progression from beginning to end. The listener is taken through resigned acceptance, self-deception, resistance, and mourning. In the last true song on the album, "Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)" they lament "Sometimes I wonder if the world is so small/That we can never get away from the sprawl." Still, it is more than just the external conflict the "Modern Man" must face in today's world; it is the internal struggle that predominates. On the other side of these struggles, the narrator reflects "All my old friends, they don't know me now."
The truth is, while each individual song can stand out very strongly on its own, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The album will likely stand as The Arcade Fire's greatest achievement due to its complexity, the depth and relatability of its message, and its mastery of a diverse range of sounds. The Suburbs should vault The Arcade Fire into a class of their own. This is one of the few albums I've heard this year that I loved from the first moment I heard it and loved it more each time I listened. Often first listens that I really like will diminish, whereas the true classics take some growing, but this album started strong and still hasn't gotten remotely old a week later. Additionally, with over an hour of music (and no filler) spanning 16 tracks, you really get your money's worth. Few albums that long are quality from beginning to end these days.
To break down the individual tracks is difficult for reasons already mentioned, but for the sake of giving each track its due, I will do so:
1. The Suburbs (8/10): The first single, the song's main weakness is that it goes on a little too long, but it is still an excellent track. The guitar interludes are probably my favorite part of the song, but the overall atmosphere of the song endeared the album to me immediately and gave me a lot more hope for it than I had prior to listening to the album, which is impressive for one song to do (most expectations are either confirmed immediately or changed with great difficulty). Establishes the very different vibe from Neon Bible.
2. Ready to Start (8/10): This track is a little more what one might expect from The Arcade Fire, and is slightly reminiscent of "No Cars Go". A catchy track that builds a lot of energy for the album.
3. Modern Man (10/10): One of the best tracks on the album, this song plays with your sense of rhythm, possibly reinforcing the sense that there is something not quite right with the "modern man", an inconsistency in the beat of his "perfect" life. The song simultaneously lures the listener into a sense of complacency as it drifts along and unsettles the listener with its rhythmic irregularity and the song's message.
4. Rococo: (7/10): Very different and interesting, though some may find it slightly boring in the beginning. The chorus, consisting of the word "rococo" sung over and over is actually quite endearing and catchy.
5. Empty Room (9/10): Fast paced strings and electric guitars bring up the energy level once again on the track that sounds closest to classic Arcade Fire. Its anthemic chorus of "When I'm by myself I can be myself/And my life is coming but I don't know when" is one of the best moments on the CD.
6. City With No Children (8/10): This one's a grower. I wasn't a huge fan the first time I heard it, but the chorus and the guitar and bass line really move this one along.
7. Half Light I (5/10): More of a lead-in to Half Light II, though it could probably be shorter. Still, nothing on this album is noticeable as being egregiously bad, or even all that skippable. On its own, this song isn't great but it functions well in the context of the album and I still don't skip it.
8. Half Light II (9/10): The middle of the album contains two of the best songs and really are the tracks around which the rest of the album revolves, musically and thematically. This track calls for resistance to the takeover of suburbia, asking "that I won't live to see/the death of of everything that's wild" and accusing "Some people say/we've already lost/But they're afraid to pay the cost."
9. Suburban War (10/10): This is the best song of the album and the other track at the very heart of this album. This track finds the band at the height of its maturity. At times, it sounds like it could melt into Bruce Springsteen's "Atlantic City." indeed, this track draws the most comparisons to Springsteen of all, despite his heavy influence throughout the record. Such comparisons could sink most artists, but they are well-deserved in this case, and "Suburban War" could stack up nicely against some of Springsteen's best.
10. Month of May (9/10): A fast-tempoed piece that would seem out of place on this album were it placed anywhere else. This track shows the band branching out a bit and embracing something slightly outside of their comfort zone, but they pull it off nicely.
11. Wasted Hours (8/10): The last of the four-song set that I think marks the highlight of the album, this song lazily meanders appropriately for its title.
12. Deep Blue (7/10): This one sometimes seems to pass by without me realizing I listened to it, and almost seemed to be continuation of "Wasted Hours" the first time I heard it. This one will either grow on you or bore you.
13. We Used to Wait (8/10): This is another grower which starts off slow and builds intensity until its climactic ending.
14. Sprawl 1 (Flatland) (5/10): I could bump it up another couple points for its lyrics and for its strength as a lead-in to part II, but individually this is definitely the weakest song on the album.
15. Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) (10/10): Catchy beats, thought-provoking lyrics, an 80s dance atmosphere, female vocals, what's not to like about this one? Excellent closer to the album and a great summary of the thematic material as well.
16. The Suburbs (Continued) (6/10): Essentially an outro, this is a more melancholy take on the album's opener.
Album rating: 9/10
Monday, July 26, 2010
This town IS big enough for the two of us
This past week I went to visit Ashley in Texas, specifically the Dallas area. Unlike most normal people who might have flown, however, we chose to drive so she could have her car for the rest of the summer (she had been doing work for a Professor at Colgate this summer). I live in Eastern Pennsylvania, and a direct drive from here would take about 21 or so hours. She wanted to show me her old hometown of Reston, Virginia, so we actually went a little bit out of our way, but it was worth it for both of us. Most people I told about the planned trip all summer told me I was crazy, but in reality the drive was extremely fun. We split it up into two and a half days (last Monday morning through Wednesday afternoon) and switched off driving every 2-3 hours so we didn't get too tired.
The first day was the prettiest drive, taking us through the Blue Ridge Mountains (accompanied by the song of the same name by Fleet Foxes) and the larger Appalachian Mountains of which the Blue Ridge are only a part (sadly Copland's Appalachian Spring was messed up on my iPod) of Western Virginia and West Virginia (it is important to note the difference). Unfortunately, as was the case with most of the views worth seeing on the trip, I totally forgot to actually use the camera I brought with me. All this means is that I will be more prepared next summer when we do it all over again...
The second day was also very nice, taking us through Kentucky (much to the delight of my horse-obsessed girlfriend) and Tennessee. We drove through Nashville too briefly for me to even remember what it looked like, but I do remember the area was beautiful, which is not exactly what I expected from Tennessee. Driving basically across the state, we saw its varied landscape, from its mountains and rolling hills to the increasing flatness toward Memphis. Memphis is a city I'd very much like to return to, having driven around it briefly. I think the musical atmosphere there was calling my name. Making another mental note for next summer. Crossed the Mississippi (and, in so doing, called up a host of Huckleberry Finn references) and found our way into Arkansas, at which point just about everything interesting about the landscape ceased to exist. We stayed there for the night and finished the last leg of the drive Wednesday, arriving in Plano at 4 or so.
I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting from Texas, but northern Texas anyway resembled Florida (minus palm trees) more than it did the Wild West that I was expecting. The DFW metroplex was a sprawling mass of shopping centers, restaurants, three- and four-lane (on each side) highways and tollways complete with bustling access roads (a new concept for me) and 70 mph speed limits. It was like the Orlando area minus the tourism and horrible traffic. I was particularly surprised by the variety of restaurants there, far exceeding our own chain-heavy array in the Valley here. Nevertheless, culture shock was minimal, and I begin to wonder if there is any part of the US that still feels like the frontier.
I really enjoyed meeting Ashley's parents, who were both very nice and welcoming the entire time I was there. Her dad introduced me to Chimay, which according to Michael Jackson (the beer expert, not the pop star and pedophile) is the best beer in the world. Made by Trappist monks in Belgium, it is served in a wine bottle and has many qualities characteristic of wine, including alcohol content. It was certainly the best beer I had ever tasted, as might be expected. We ate well on the trip, and I would heavily recommend Texas de Brazil to anyone interested in trying a variety of delicious meats. It is a chain, so it may be in your area. This was particularly fun for me, since Ashley is a notoriously picky eater and very stubborn about trying new foods, so watching her try 15 or so different kinds of meat and some interesting items from the salad bar was well worth it.
Among the other highlights of the trip were the Dallas Arboretum, which was extremely beautiful and not at all crowded, seeing Despicable Me with Ashley and Inception with her and her friends, and buying her 4 inch heels so that she can do ballroom dance with me this coming semester (we're normally 13" apart). We also went to Six Flags Over Texas, which I later learned was the original Six Flags (the name deriving from the six nations who have owned Texas over its history (Spain, France, Mexico, Texas Republic, Confederacy, United States). The best part of that trip was that just as we were leaving, we got caught in a torrential downpour which we ran through to get to the car. Flash flooding ensued. Except it barely rained at all back at Ashley's house. Pssh, Texas weather.
I also went out to the barn to watch her ride, and I played with her two dogs (whippets named Gable and Jewel) which are both things that I would not have seen myself doing 6 months ago, so I suppose she's getting me to try new things too. Gable liked me, but Jewel seems to have a mistrust of men and she avoided me when she could and always looked very nervous, which was sad because she was my favorite.
I could go on but the main point is that I had an amazing week, experienced new things, saw new places, and fell even more in love. I'm already looking forward to going back next summer.
The first day was the prettiest drive, taking us through the Blue Ridge Mountains (accompanied by the song of the same name by Fleet Foxes) and the larger Appalachian Mountains of which the Blue Ridge are only a part (sadly Copland's Appalachian Spring was messed up on my iPod) of Western Virginia and West Virginia (it is important to note the difference). Unfortunately, as was the case with most of the views worth seeing on the trip, I totally forgot to actually use the camera I brought with me. All this means is that I will be more prepared next summer when we do it all over again...
The second day was also very nice, taking us through Kentucky (much to the delight of my horse-obsessed girlfriend) and Tennessee. We drove through Nashville too briefly for me to even remember what it looked like, but I do remember the area was beautiful, which is not exactly what I expected from Tennessee. Driving basically across the state, we saw its varied landscape, from its mountains and rolling hills to the increasing flatness toward Memphis. Memphis is a city I'd very much like to return to, having driven around it briefly. I think the musical atmosphere there was calling my name. Making another mental note for next summer. Crossed the Mississippi (and, in so doing, called up a host of Huckleberry Finn references) and found our way into Arkansas, at which point just about everything interesting about the landscape ceased to exist. We stayed there for the night and finished the last leg of the drive Wednesday, arriving in Plano at 4 or so.
I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting from Texas, but northern Texas anyway resembled Florida (minus palm trees) more than it did the Wild West that I was expecting. The DFW metroplex was a sprawling mass of shopping centers, restaurants, three- and four-lane (on each side) highways and tollways complete with bustling access roads (a new concept for me) and 70 mph speed limits. It was like the Orlando area minus the tourism and horrible traffic. I was particularly surprised by the variety of restaurants there, far exceeding our own chain-heavy array in the Valley here. Nevertheless, culture shock was minimal, and I begin to wonder if there is any part of the US that still feels like the frontier.
I really enjoyed meeting Ashley's parents, who were both very nice and welcoming the entire time I was there. Her dad introduced me to Chimay, which according to Michael Jackson (the beer expert, not the pop star and pedophile) is the best beer in the world. Made by Trappist monks in Belgium, it is served in a wine bottle and has many qualities characteristic of wine, including alcohol content. It was certainly the best beer I had ever tasted, as might be expected. We ate well on the trip, and I would heavily recommend Texas de Brazil to anyone interested in trying a variety of delicious meats. It is a chain, so it may be in your area. This was particularly fun for me, since Ashley is a notoriously picky eater and very stubborn about trying new foods, so watching her try 15 or so different kinds of meat and some interesting items from the salad bar was well worth it.
Among the other highlights of the trip were the Dallas Arboretum, which was extremely beautiful and not at all crowded, seeing Despicable Me with Ashley and Inception with her and her friends, and buying her 4 inch heels so that she can do ballroom dance with me this coming semester (we're normally 13" apart). We also went to Six Flags Over Texas, which I later learned was the original Six Flags (the name deriving from the six nations who have owned Texas over its history (Spain, France, Mexico, Texas Republic, Confederacy, United States). The best part of that trip was that just as we were leaving, we got caught in a torrential downpour which we ran through to get to the car. Flash flooding ensued. Except it barely rained at all back at Ashley's house. Pssh, Texas weather.
I also went out to the barn to watch her ride, and I played with her two dogs (whippets named Gable and Jewel) which are both things that I would not have seen myself doing 6 months ago, so I suppose she's getting me to try new things too. Gable liked me, but Jewel seems to have a mistrust of men and she avoided me when she could and always looked very nervous, which was sad because she was my favorite.
I could go on but the main point is that I had an amazing week, experienced new things, saw new places, and fell even more in love. I'm already looking forward to going back next summer.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Beatrice and Virgil (Spoilers)
I'd very much like to give Yann Martel's newest novel a much more detailed review than my brain is capable of doing at this hour, but I know that if I wait until tomorrow, it won't happen, so I shall do what I can tonight.
To begin with, I will simply say that I loved Life of Pi and leave it at that. That book has no bearing on or relation to this new work. I won't mention it again.
Very rarely do I actually finish a book that I put it down and feel manipulated, or that I wasted my time. Very rarely is my experience of a book so contrary to my expectations of it that I feel the need to actually vent about it rather than merely dismissing it as several hours I shall never recover. Usually if a book is really bad, I put it down somewhere in the middle. This wasn't one of those books. This was a book that had a lot of promise, a lot of potential, and I kept waiting for it to break through into something magnificent as I approached the end. Instead, it took the ending to confirm what I had dreaded through the entire novel: the book was a mess.
I bought Beatrice and Virgil (pre-ordered it actually) back in March, with the knowledge that I would not have the time to start it until May, when the semester was over. Once home and unpacked and nicely settled in, I decided to finally start the book I was looking forward to very much (so much so, that I continued to postpone reading Anna Karenina which I've been dying to finish for months). The beginning of the book truly excited me. Martel introduces us to his thinly-disguised alter-ego Henry (side note: quite possibly the most awkward, self-absorbed, blunt, pointless, and clumsy portrayal of oneself ever achieved in literature), whose first book was a wild success (hmmm...) and who has settled down to a new and ambitious project: to portray the Holocaust in a new and imaginative way. Immediately, red flags. However, these fears are put to rest by Martel/Henry's interesting take on art and the Holocaust, as well his bizarre and creative (and distinctly Martellian) idea for a flip book that is half fiction, half nonfiction. His philosophical explanations behind this are fascinating. Then the book is rejected. Cue writer's block. At this point we begin to explore the "story" arc which underlies much of the rest of the book: Henry's very pedestrian, work-free, dilettante lifestyle in which he has pets, joins a theater troupe, and begins to learn clarinet. "What about that flip book, Henry?"
Just as the reader begins to wonder "Why...?" we stumble awkwardly upon the real "plot" of the novel. A crazy old taxidermist enlists Henry's help (through fan mail) for his play. A scene from the play is included in the package he sends Henry, a beautiful scene where the two main characters, a howler monkey named Virgil and a donkey named Beatrice, discuss and describe, in captivatingly beautiful imagery, a simple pear. Alas, once Henry has made contact with the taxidermist and the reader realizes that Martel has tried to clear his writer's block by writing himself as a character (also with writer's block) helping another character in his own creative endeavors, the question is almost inevitable: "Is this it?" Certainly this was my question, and the reason why the book got neglected for almost two months. I had no burning desire to pick it up again, for there was simply nothing captivating: no interesting characters, little philosophical depth, barely a plot to speak of, and the constant question of "what is the point of this book?"
Having picked it up again yesterday and finished it tonight, I can tell you that it was less of a point and more of a blunt object, striking you over the head and leaving you dazed and senseless and used. Near the end I was thinking that the nearly plagiaristically Beckett-like play, "A 20th Century Shirt" (in which two characters banter seemingly about nothing while standing next to a tree, yet in which deep philosophical questions are raised...) would have made a better book if Martel had simply cropped out all the extraneous and unnecessary stuff about his self-serving, and often very condescending and arrogant, attempt to help the taxidermist complete his play and simultaneously save his own writer's soul. While derivative, the writing in the play was frequently better and more thought-provoking than the prose of the rest of the novel, in which random and pedestrian events intertwine in a hazy jumble interspersed with excerpts from a play which could never have been written by the taxidermist character as described by Martel. Then, WHAM! In the span of a few pages, we learn that this has been about the Holocaust all along, but that revelation and transition is handled so poorly it seems to come out of nowhere. So this, then, must be the realization of what Henry had been trying to perfect early in the novel. Interest reemerging? Then, in literally one page, several non sequiters occur. First, the taxidermist asks an innocent question probing for input from Henry. Then, Henry thinks back to the Flaubert story that accompanied the pear excerpt in the fanmail package. From this (and seemingly nowhere else, except possibly a few heavily veiled lines on the preceding pages) Henry deduces the man is an ex-Nazi collaborator, becomes disgusted and refuses to believe him reformed (for reasons unknown), tries to leave the shop immediately, refuses the copy of the play, gets stabbed by the taxidermist (why?...), escapes, and watches as the taxidermist sets fire to the shop while still inside, wearing a maniacal grin that is completely nothing like the character described up to this point. A more clumsily handled climax may never have been written by such a talented author. It comes out of nowhere, is supported by almost nothing that precedes it, makes no point, and leaves no feeling in the reader except bewilderment, disgust, and anger.
The play perished in the blaze. Henry regrets this, although it is his refusal of the play that caused it to be lost in the first place, and he recreates what he can remember of the taxidermist, the play, and anything related to those two subjects that he can remember. Another unexplained about-face from his angry rejection of both of them just pages earlier. This is just another example of characters doing things for no reason, or acting in ways for which the author does not, and the reader can not, provide any explanation. The final pages of the book are disturbing, morbid, and unoriginal, taking familiar Holocaust material and presenting it in such a way as to only heighten the revulsion the reader feels by presenting it in the form of "games." Given that any Holocaust reference up to this point (besides Henry's failed novel) has been told metaphorically through the eyes of two animals, this is abrupt and random, possibly more for shock value or to tug on our emotions than for any real literary reason.
Holocaust stories will always be emotional in some way. Those of us who aren't Jewish or who did not descend from victims of that terrible slaughter (like myself and, incidentally, Martel) do not feel the pain of that massacre any less, for it was not merely an assault on one group of people, it was an assault on humanity. This is why to this day this is one topic that is always handled with extreme caution because it conjures up such a multitude of emotions in us all, from terrible sadness for the victims, to horror at the darkness and evil of which humanity is capable, to anger at the perpetrators, to the realization that an entire nation of people, ordinary good and bad people like all of us, sat by and did nothing and turned away. It is important that we not ignore the subject, and I agree with Henry/Martel that it should be expressed in new forms, just as other momentous and tragic events are in history. Yet it is impossible to not feel tricked by this book. The title, the cover featuring the two animals in a desert landscape, the entire middle portion of the book, do not give any indication as to the book's subject matter. By the middle of the novel, we are convinced that Martel has left those intriguing ideas behind. Then suddenly, without giving readers a chance to decide if they really are in the mood to read about the Holocaust, Martel hits us rapid-fire with a series of seemingly unrelated thoughts and events which add nothing to the discussion of or perception of the Holocaust (in fact, it makes no new points at all about the Holocaust after the first few pages). Like it or not, the images are burned into our brains, but we are left wondering how they have helped us come to terms with that horrible atrocity. We have been caught unsuspecting and Martel has taken advantage of this to bludgeon us over the head with his point - the problem is, he doesn't have one.
Clumsy in character development, storytelling, language, transition, and treatment of subject matter, this novel showcases none of the brilliance which Yann Martel exhibited in his first book. Instead, it makes just about every mistake a novel can make in only 200 pages. It would be easily forgettable were it not for its treatment of the Holocaust and its tremendously bad ending. Instead, it becomes memorably bad.
2/5. (for its redeeming qualities and latent potential)
To begin with, I will simply say that I loved Life of Pi and leave it at that. That book has no bearing on or relation to this new work. I won't mention it again.
Very rarely do I actually finish a book that I put it down and feel manipulated, or that I wasted my time. Very rarely is my experience of a book so contrary to my expectations of it that I feel the need to actually vent about it rather than merely dismissing it as several hours I shall never recover. Usually if a book is really bad, I put it down somewhere in the middle. This wasn't one of those books. This was a book that had a lot of promise, a lot of potential, and I kept waiting for it to break through into something magnificent as I approached the end. Instead, it took the ending to confirm what I had dreaded through the entire novel: the book was a mess.
I bought Beatrice and Virgil (pre-ordered it actually) back in March, with the knowledge that I would not have the time to start it until May, when the semester was over. Once home and unpacked and nicely settled in, I decided to finally start the book I was looking forward to very much (so much so, that I continued to postpone reading Anna Karenina which I've been dying to finish for months). The beginning of the book truly excited me. Martel introduces us to his thinly-disguised alter-ego Henry (side note: quite possibly the most awkward, self-absorbed, blunt, pointless, and clumsy portrayal of oneself ever achieved in literature), whose first book was a wild success (hmmm...) and who has settled down to a new and ambitious project: to portray the Holocaust in a new and imaginative way. Immediately, red flags. However, these fears are put to rest by Martel/Henry's interesting take on art and the Holocaust, as well his bizarre and creative (and distinctly Martellian) idea for a flip book that is half fiction, half nonfiction. His philosophical explanations behind this are fascinating. Then the book is rejected. Cue writer's block. At this point we begin to explore the "story" arc which underlies much of the rest of the book: Henry's very pedestrian, work-free, dilettante lifestyle in which he has pets, joins a theater troupe, and begins to learn clarinet. "What about that flip book, Henry?"
Just as the reader begins to wonder "Why...?" we stumble awkwardly upon the real "plot" of the novel. A crazy old taxidermist enlists Henry's help (through fan mail) for his play. A scene from the play is included in the package he sends Henry, a beautiful scene where the two main characters, a howler monkey named Virgil and a donkey named Beatrice, discuss and describe, in captivatingly beautiful imagery, a simple pear. Alas, once Henry has made contact with the taxidermist and the reader realizes that Martel has tried to clear his writer's block by writing himself as a character (also with writer's block) helping another character in his own creative endeavors, the question is almost inevitable: "Is this it?" Certainly this was my question, and the reason why the book got neglected for almost two months. I had no burning desire to pick it up again, for there was simply nothing captivating: no interesting characters, little philosophical depth, barely a plot to speak of, and the constant question of "what is the point of this book?"
Having picked it up again yesterday and finished it tonight, I can tell you that it was less of a point and more of a blunt object, striking you over the head and leaving you dazed and senseless and used. Near the end I was thinking that the nearly plagiaristically Beckett-like play, "A 20th Century Shirt" (in which two characters banter seemingly about nothing while standing next to a tree, yet in which deep philosophical questions are raised...) would have made a better book if Martel had simply cropped out all the extraneous and unnecessary stuff about his self-serving, and often very condescending and arrogant, attempt to help the taxidermist complete his play and simultaneously save his own writer's soul. While derivative, the writing in the play was frequently better and more thought-provoking than the prose of the rest of the novel, in which random and pedestrian events intertwine in a hazy jumble interspersed with excerpts from a play which could never have been written by the taxidermist character as described by Martel. Then, WHAM! In the span of a few pages, we learn that this has been about the Holocaust all along, but that revelation and transition is handled so poorly it seems to come out of nowhere. So this, then, must be the realization of what Henry had been trying to perfect early in the novel. Interest reemerging? Then, in literally one page, several non sequiters occur. First, the taxidermist asks an innocent question probing for input from Henry. Then, Henry thinks back to the Flaubert story that accompanied the pear excerpt in the fanmail package. From this (and seemingly nowhere else, except possibly a few heavily veiled lines on the preceding pages) Henry deduces the man is an ex-Nazi collaborator, becomes disgusted and refuses to believe him reformed (for reasons unknown), tries to leave the shop immediately, refuses the copy of the play, gets stabbed by the taxidermist (why?...), escapes, and watches as the taxidermist sets fire to the shop while still inside, wearing a maniacal grin that is completely nothing like the character described up to this point. A more clumsily handled climax may never have been written by such a talented author. It comes out of nowhere, is supported by almost nothing that precedes it, makes no point, and leaves no feeling in the reader except bewilderment, disgust, and anger.
The play perished in the blaze. Henry regrets this, although it is his refusal of the play that caused it to be lost in the first place, and he recreates what he can remember of the taxidermist, the play, and anything related to those two subjects that he can remember. Another unexplained about-face from his angry rejection of both of them just pages earlier. This is just another example of characters doing things for no reason, or acting in ways for which the author does not, and the reader can not, provide any explanation. The final pages of the book are disturbing, morbid, and unoriginal, taking familiar Holocaust material and presenting it in such a way as to only heighten the revulsion the reader feels by presenting it in the form of "games." Given that any Holocaust reference up to this point (besides Henry's failed novel) has been told metaphorically through the eyes of two animals, this is abrupt and random, possibly more for shock value or to tug on our emotions than for any real literary reason.
Holocaust stories will always be emotional in some way. Those of us who aren't Jewish or who did not descend from victims of that terrible slaughter (like myself and, incidentally, Martel) do not feel the pain of that massacre any less, for it was not merely an assault on one group of people, it was an assault on humanity. This is why to this day this is one topic that is always handled with extreme caution because it conjures up such a multitude of emotions in us all, from terrible sadness for the victims, to horror at the darkness and evil of which humanity is capable, to anger at the perpetrators, to the realization that an entire nation of people, ordinary good and bad people like all of us, sat by and did nothing and turned away. It is important that we not ignore the subject, and I agree with Henry/Martel that it should be expressed in new forms, just as other momentous and tragic events are in history. Yet it is impossible to not feel tricked by this book. The title, the cover featuring the two animals in a desert landscape, the entire middle portion of the book, do not give any indication as to the book's subject matter. By the middle of the novel, we are convinced that Martel has left those intriguing ideas behind. Then suddenly, without giving readers a chance to decide if they really are in the mood to read about the Holocaust, Martel hits us rapid-fire with a series of seemingly unrelated thoughts and events which add nothing to the discussion of or perception of the Holocaust (in fact, it makes no new points at all about the Holocaust after the first few pages). Like it or not, the images are burned into our brains, but we are left wondering how they have helped us come to terms with that horrible atrocity. We have been caught unsuspecting and Martel has taken advantage of this to bludgeon us over the head with his point - the problem is, he doesn't have one.
Clumsy in character development, storytelling, language, transition, and treatment of subject matter, this novel showcases none of the brilliance which Yann Martel exhibited in his first book. Instead, it makes just about every mistake a novel can make in only 200 pages. It would be easily forgettable were it not for its treatment of the Holocaust and its tremendously bad ending. Instead, it becomes memorably bad.
2/5. (for its redeeming qualities and latent potential)
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Time management and Poetry update
Suddenly I don't work my evening job until Friday and thus have a few evenings free in a row, and I must admit, it has come as quite a shock. I'm so used to having too little time to do anything meaningful, or being too tired, that I'm still not quite sure what to do with the time, which is why I haven't done any of the things I hoped to get accomplished tonight. Partially, I also feel somewhat guilty for not being working right now given how much money I need to make before London next spring. I'm probably mentally recovered enough to do those long hours after I've had the weekend off what with Ashley visiting again. Still, now that I'll be working as a server (finally!) at my Holiday Inn job, I might actually make enough money in tips to compensate for having fewer hours, or at least that's my hope. My current pace won't net me enough money to be comfortable with my semester overseas, especially now that I'm realizing my hockey streaming package that I get ever year (since I don't live in the Pittsburgh area to get Penguins games) isn't available in Europe, and the one that is available in Europe isn't available in America. This splits next year's hockey season awkwardly in half and leaves me with a troubling situation for someone who generally watches probably 95% of the Penguins' games.
But enough about the money aspect. Trying to actually make use of what little time I have is the other big thing. During the school year I am always making lists of all the things I'll do when I have time again. Granted, it's much easier when there's a significant amount of time strung together because one can only do nothing for so long, but when I only have a few hours here and there, writing and blogging and reading and other activities which require mental activity end up being neglected in favor of more lazy ones. I've been meaning to finish Anna Karenina for a while, and I have a list of books to read that fills both columns on two sheets of paper (and I'm quite sure it's incomplete), but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm midway through Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel (author of Life of Pi) and unimpressed, which may contribute to that unwillingness to choose reading to fill those few hours. More tempting right now actually is going back and reading the Harry Potter series...again. Which is fun, of course, but hardly stimulating. Meh, we'll see what happens over the next few days.
Also, it''s been a while since I posted some poems on here, so I'll try to bring this blog up to date again.
Fragments of the Modern Mind
Filed away in desk drawers
Mausoleums filled with the bones of wit
And the drippings of smoky melodies
Ringed around in paper clip senselessness
Filled with the despair of shantytown roses
Scrabbling with the hallowed ghosts of archaic idols
And satin-cheeked cherubs of mind-bending disorder
Polarity and seamlessness colliding in a haze of questions
Endless rows of shelves collapsing under the weight
Glassy shards of amateur dreams
Buried in the endless rubble of neophyte nightmares
And choked by the shackles of neckties and paperweights.
©May 2010
Old and New
The mists of morning still linger, relics of darkness and sleep
The scatter-colored shimmer language of the sunrise
Speaks playfully to figures wreathed in tendrils of forest breath
Winking diamonds dance in branches, a multicolored spectacle
The riches of the dawn
Footsteps muffled by needlepoint carpeting
Hints of by-gone frost on the breeze
A haunting reminder of brokenness and solitude
The frigid immersion into icy rivulets of memories
The soft trickle
The silent murmur
Of a silence too familiar to break
The wind reclines in the lofty canopy of new and old
Contemplating among sheltering giants indifferent to a passing moment
In which miles were crossed, in time and space
Streams forded, trails blazed
And a windswept conversation, barely audible over the silence
Of old and new.
In the stilly eternity of the forest reckoning
Where warm fragrant musings of aimless zephyrs
Gently caress vibrant newborn petals
Carefully imparting the wisdom of the phoenix
In the language of deepening blues and evening gems
Set so brightly in imperfect wooden frames
For the wondering, apprehensive, exhilarated gazers
A starset of the trees.
©May 2010
Closed Eyelids
Colorful shapes dance behind closed eyelids
Fiery screens playing out romantic memoirs
The smooth feel of Egyptian cotton on porous membranes
Wild trips of phosphorescent dandelions
Tremors of silent terror and the fears of youth
Running, falling, screaming
Flying; the feel of bittersweet stillness
Invisible barriers incomprehensible
A vain struggle, and then
The alarm.
©June 2010
This next poem is not quite where I want it to be yet. I'll edit this post once I've edited the poem.
Wisdom
Once, when the world was black and white,
I told the world all that I knew
I didn't hold back.
Then, some foggy snapshots later,
I still expressed my much-maligned wisdom
But fewer cared to listen or understand
So I invented my own world.
In those days I walked in the air,
And grappled with the sun.
I held the secrets of the universe in my mind
And in that lithe, yet fragile body
I understood.
Yes, but that was an eternity ago
I see in color now, and I hold my tongue
I have exchanged the world for the universe
And am counted among the wise.
Yesterday a small child approached me
With a fire burning in his eyes
Tugging insistently on my grey sleeve
He bid me listen
And he shared with me the secrets of the universe
But I did not understand.
©June 2010
But enough about the money aspect. Trying to actually make use of what little time I have is the other big thing. During the school year I am always making lists of all the things I'll do when I have time again. Granted, it's much easier when there's a significant amount of time strung together because one can only do nothing for so long, but when I only have a few hours here and there, writing and blogging and reading and other activities which require mental activity end up being neglected in favor of more lazy ones. I've been meaning to finish Anna Karenina for a while, and I have a list of books to read that fills both columns on two sheets of paper (and I'm quite sure it's incomplete), but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm midway through Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel (author of Life of Pi) and unimpressed, which may contribute to that unwillingness to choose reading to fill those few hours. More tempting right now actually is going back and reading the Harry Potter series...again. Which is fun, of course, but hardly stimulating. Meh, we'll see what happens over the next few days.
Also, it''s been a while since I posted some poems on here, so I'll try to bring this blog up to date again.
Fragments of the Modern Mind
Filed away in desk drawers
Mausoleums filled with the bones of wit
And the drippings of smoky melodies
Ringed around in paper clip senselessness
Filled with the despair of shantytown roses
Scrabbling with the hallowed ghosts of archaic idols
And satin-cheeked cherubs of mind-bending disorder
Polarity and seamlessness colliding in a haze of questions
Endless rows of shelves collapsing under the weight
Glassy shards of amateur dreams
Buried in the endless rubble of neophyte nightmares
And choked by the shackles of neckties and paperweights.
©May 2010
Old and New
The mists of morning still linger, relics of darkness and sleep
The scatter-colored shimmer language of the sunrise
Speaks playfully to figures wreathed in tendrils of forest breath
Winking diamonds dance in branches, a multicolored spectacle
The riches of the dawn
Footsteps muffled by needlepoint carpeting
Hints of by-gone frost on the breeze
A haunting reminder of brokenness and solitude
The frigid immersion into icy rivulets of memories
The soft trickle
The silent murmur
Of a silence too familiar to break
The wind reclines in the lofty canopy of new and old
Contemplating among sheltering giants indifferent to a passing moment
In which miles were crossed, in time and space
Streams forded, trails blazed
And a windswept conversation, barely audible over the silence
Of old and new.
In the stilly eternity of the forest reckoning
Where warm fragrant musings of aimless zephyrs
Gently caress vibrant newborn petals
Carefully imparting the wisdom of the phoenix
In the language of deepening blues and evening gems
Set so brightly in imperfect wooden frames
For the wondering, apprehensive, exhilarated gazers
A starset of the trees.
©May 2010
Closed Eyelids
Colorful shapes dance behind closed eyelids
Fiery screens playing out romantic memoirs
The smooth feel of Egyptian cotton on porous membranes
Wild trips of phosphorescent dandelions
Tremors of silent terror and the fears of youth
Running, falling, screaming
Flying; the feel of bittersweet stillness
Invisible barriers incomprehensible
A vain struggle, and then
The alarm.
©June 2010
This next poem is not quite where I want it to be yet. I'll edit this post once I've edited the poem.
Wisdom
Once, when the world was black and white,
I told the world all that I knew
I didn't hold back.
Then, some foggy snapshots later,
I still expressed my much-maligned wisdom
But fewer cared to listen or understand
So I invented my own world.
In those days I walked in the air,
And grappled with the sun.
I held the secrets of the universe in my mind
And in that lithe, yet fragile body
I understood.
Yes, but that was an eternity ago
I see in color now, and I hold my tongue
I have exchanged the world for the universe
And am counted among the wise.
Yesterday a small child approached me
With a fire burning in his eyes
Tugging insistently on my grey sleeve
He bid me listen
And he shared with me the secrets of the universe
But I did not understand.
©June 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Workaholic
As I may have mentioned before, I'm studying abroad in the spring in London. While this is incredibly exciting, it's also going to be very expensive. It means I need to make a lot of money between now and then, which is how I've ended up working two jobs at between 60 and 70 hours a week. It's essentially taken over my life such that I work and sleep and not much else now. But it beats being unemployed, which I was worried would happen again at the beginning of this summer given how many leads went nowhere.
2010 has been such a great year for music and it's only halfway over! I almost don't know where to turn to start addressing all the quality releases both by new and established artists this calendar year. Expect more lists from me before the year is out!
While the rest of the world talks about the *yawn* World Cup, I dream instead of covering the field with ice and surrounding it with boards, shrinking it down, and replacing the trained actors with athletes. So even though it's the hockey offseason, I've been keeping glued to my computer at times waiting to hear what's going to happen with the Penguins' free agent Sergei Gonchar. As they've just acquired the rights to Dan Hamhuis, it's looking like that won't happen, which is a huge mistake in my opinion. We shall see.
Keep a lookout in the near future: I'll be featured in a regular podcast along with two other people, one of whom is Ashley. We'll be primarily talking about writing, so if you're interested in that subject, we'd appreciate your support.
That's all for now, more soon!
2010 has been such a great year for music and it's only halfway over! I almost don't know where to turn to start addressing all the quality releases both by new and established artists this calendar year. Expect more lists from me before the year is out!
While the rest of the world talks about the *yawn* World Cup, I dream instead of covering the field with ice and surrounding it with boards, shrinking it down, and replacing the trained actors with athletes. So even though it's the hockey offseason, I've been keeping glued to my computer at times waiting to hear what's going to happen with the Penguins' free agent Sergei Gonchar. As they've just acquired the rights to Dan Hamhuis, it's looking like that won't happen, which is a huge mistake in my opinion. We shall see.
Keep a lookout in the near future: I'll be featured in a regular podcast along with two other people, one of whom is Ashley. We'll be primarily talking about writing, so if you're interested in that subject, we'd appreciate your support.
That's all for now, more soon!
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Breaking the laziness
Never fear readers, I have not died. The last couple months of the school year were unbelievably busy. Even on the rare occasion that I had a free moment, I wasn't really in the mood to post on here. Not to mention, I kept feeling that I needed to post something intelligent if I was going to post something at all. Well I've decided it's better to at least keep posting even if I don't always have some random rant or essay or new poetry or music review ready yet.
So while I'm writing my new music review, I might as well briefly update what's been going on in my life. I finished my most intense and eventful semester to date about a month ago. I went to Rome with the Newman Community at Colgate over spring break, which I'll post some pictures from and some brief summaries, but I'll try to keep it brief because I have a tendency to include way more information than any casual reader has time or interest for. I have a new girlfriend, official as of about a month ago, whom I met back in February. It's been a crazy whirlwind few months, but I couldn't be happier now. She visited me this past weekend, and just about every plan we had went perfectly.
Here's a picture of us hiking and a couple of us at Longwood Gardens:
I've also resurrected my old poetry forum site, Café Poetica and am always looking for new members to come read and post. I got a deviantArt account at Ashley's prompting as well to showcase my poetry.
After months upon months of failure at finding internships and jobs (including my preferred grant for independent history research at school), I finally found a job that seemed at least tolerable in the area here. I'd rather be at school obviously, but there's still things to do at home. The job was supposed to be a multiple-position job working banquets at the Holiday Inn. I was/am under the impression that I would be trained in serving, bartending, bussing, and set-ups. I knew from the outset that setting up for banquets would be weird hours and hard work, but it'd be offset by the serving and bartending that actually would be useful, fun, and more lucrative. My first day at work yesterday did not live up to my expectations, however, and looking at the schedule, I do not seem to be on the list of servers or bartenders. This could simply be because they haven't trained me as such yet, but the set-ups seems to be a different department almost, and I don't know of any other crossovers. Thus, I intend to talk to one of the managers during my next shift on Friday to find out about when they plan to train me as a server. If they don't, I will begin looking for other employment immediately. I already turned down three other interviews because I assumed this would be a better job. I wish now that I hadn't. We'll see, this could still turn out to be OK, but first impressions weren't great. Not a fan of coming in at 6, leaving at 6:35, and returning from 10pm to 12:30am either. The 9pm to 4am shifts will be worse though at least. This is why I go to an advanced liberal arts institution, this is not what I want to do with my life...
That's it for now. I'll try to keep you all more involved in my day to day events, thoughts, and opinions, and I'll keep the writing and music coming. Until next time, enjoy the weather!
So while I'm writing my new music review, I might as well briefly update what's been going on in my life. I finished my most intense and eventful semester to date about a month ago. I went to Rome with the Newman Community at Colgate over spring break, which I'll post some pictures from and some brief summaries, but I'll try to keep it brief because I have a tendency to include way more information than any casual reader has time or interest for. I have a new girlfriend, official as of about a month ago, whom I met back in February. It's been a crazy whirlwind few months, but I couldn't be happier now. She visited me this past weekend, and just about every plan we had went perfectly.
Here's a picture of us hiking and a couple of us at Longwood Gardens:
I've also resurrected my old poetry forum site, Café Poetica and am always looking for new members to come read and post. I got a deviantArt account at Ashley's prompting as well to showcase my poetry.
After months upon months of failure at finding internships and jobs (including my preferred grant for independent history research at school), I finally found a job that seemed at least tolerable in the area here. I'd rather be at school obviously, but there's still things to do at home. The job was supposed to be a multiple-position job working banquets at the Holiday Inn. I was/am under the impression that I would be trained in serving, bartending, bussing, and set-ups. I knew from the outset that setting up for banquets would be weird hours and hard work, but it'd be offset by the serving and bartending that actually would be useful, fun, and more lucrative. My first day at work yesterday did not live up to my expectations, however, and looking at the schedule, I do not seem to be on the list of servers or bartenders. This could simply be because they haven't trained me as such yet, but the set-ups seems to be a different department almost, and I don't know of any other crossovers. Thus, I intend to talk to one of the managers during my next shift on Friday to find out about when they plan to train me as a server. If they don't, I will begin looking for other employment immediately. I already turned down three other interviews because I assumed this would be a better job. I wish now that I hadn't. We'll see, this could still turn out to be OK, but first impressions weren't great. Not a fan of coming in at 6, leaving at 6:35, and returning from 10pm to 12:30am either. The 9pm to 4am shifts will be worse though at least. This is why I go to an advanced liberal arts institution, this is not what I want to do with my life...
That's it for now. I'll try to keep you all more involved in my day to day events, thoughts, and opinions, and I'll keep the writing and music coming. Until next time, enjoy the weather!
Monday, April 5, 2010
New poem: Shapes
I know it's been a long time since my last post. March was a month of hell as far as work goes, and this next one doesn't look much better, but I'll be trying to post some highlights from my Rome trip in the form of concise (as much as possible) journal entries and some pictures as well in the next few days or so. I'm also hoping to have time for a review or two, but time is short so we'll see.
This is a poem I wrote based on a subject that Ashley gave me as a starting point. Then it developed a bit and took on a whole new meaning entirely, which is where all good starting points should lead.
Shapes
What say you, I cried, O dollop of cotton?
You in your intangible transitory imagination
What do you contain of destiny?
What say you of the past?
Or are you merely the romance of grassy lovers
Content with uncertainty, fleeting and ephemeral
The shape of things to come, unseen by one
Yet so plainly revealed to the other
The elephant in the newly painted blue room
Coming between them already, even as it changes
Dissipating into nebulous vapor
A wisp of a dream that was once a future
Blending into the deepening shades
And is gone forever.
This is a poem I wrote based on a subject that Ashley gave me as a starting point. Then it developed a bit and took on a whole new meaning entirely, which is where all good starting points should lead.
Shapes
What say you, I cried, O dollop of cotton?
You in your intangible transitory imagination
What do you contain of destiny?
What say you of the past?
Or are you merely the romance of grassy lovers
Content with uncertainty, fleeting and ephemeral
The shape of things to come, unseen by one
Yet so plainly revealed to the other
The elephant in the newly painted blue room
Coming between them already, even as it changes
Dissipating into nebulous vapor
A wisp of a dream that was once a future
Blending into the deepening shades
And is gone forever.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Torch (draft)
This hasn't been revised yet, but here is the working draft of my most recent poem.
Torch
Hindered revolutionary silence among the common lands
The lightning-sweet bite of air, the fiery passion
Cannisters of vapor, spider-silk, they are the dreams of men
Men who had long ceased their mournful perambulations
Wanderers who never had a home, levies without fire or water
The boundary between their souls and everyone else.
Oh sugary flame, how the single torch borne aloft
The glazing glare, how it consumes even the most insignificant
And they burst forth with acclamations of irrepressible joy
The stentorian tones of one drowning out the rest
Distorted, clanging, the acid in the well-spring
Meek and dead to the method, they do not question
A pinwheel of bright images, revolving round and round
Eternally spinning the flashing idols to the weary
With their bright speckled faces and yellow-parchment hearts
Blank and yielding to the slightest indentation, insensitive pressure,
Oh fruitless rage! Oh pinwheel of poison! Oh sinful flame!
I've stepped forth into a world of demagogues and demigods
Of the knowledge of good and evil
Of the tattered and torn hearts and garments of the flood
When the levy breaks, who will carry you home?
When the tide of retribution has drowned the flame
Who will show you a world free from sin
When shards of bitterness and a frenzy of confusion
Have dragged the embers of doubt into the swaying poppies
Igniting the brushfire, leaving nothing but heart-rending silence
Yet there is joy in those green-valley eyes
In those endless swirling molecules that froth and foam
In the quelled quarrels of multitudinous sick hearts
For in those days, there never will be the acidic strokes
Or blinding carousels of misfortune and lies
Only the torch with its crisp-crackling flavor of peace.
Torch
Hindered revolutionary silence among the common lands
The lightning-sweet bite of air, the fiery passion
Cannisters of vapor, spider-silk, they are the dreams of men
Men who had long ceased their mournful perambulations
Wanderers who never had a home, levies without fire or water
The boundary between their souls and everyone else.
Oh sugary flame, how the single torch borne aloft
The glazing glare, how it consumes even the most insignificant
And they burst forth with acclamations of irrepressible joy
The stentorian tones of one drowning out the rest
Distorted, clanging, the acid in the well-spring
Meek and dead to the method, they do not question
A pinwheel of bright images, revolving round and round
Eternally spinning the flashing idols to the weary
With their bright speckled faces and yellow-parchment hearts
Blank and yielding to the slightest indentation, insensitive pressure,
Oh fruitless rage! Oh pinwheel of poison! Oh sinful flame!
I've stepped forth into a world of demagogues and demigods
Of the knowledge of good and evil
Of the tattered and torn hearts and garments of the flood
When the levy breaks, who will carry you home?
When the tide of retribution has drowned the flame
Who will show you a world free from sin
When shards of bitterness and a frenzy of confusion
Have dragged the embers of doubt into the swaying poppies
Igniting the brushfire, leaving nothing but heart-rending silence
Yet there is joy in those green-valley eyes
In those endless swirling molecules that froth and foam
In the quelled quarrels of multitudinous sick hearts
For in those days, there never will be the acidic strokes
Or blinding carousels of misfortune and lies
Only the torch with its crisp-crackling flavor of peace.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A few poems I forgot to post
I wrote a few poems a little while back which I forgot to put on here. I'm not sure how thrilled I am with any of them, which is probably why I wasn't in a huge hurry. They're OK I guess.
The first one was my random attempt at an imagism-inspired poem.
The Ashtray
Accusatory stares in the thick, viscous silence
Of that breezy, baguette-scented French café
A thousand words and promises flung carelessly
Amidst the salt-and-pepper detritus of the ashtray
A Whimper
A few words spoken like a whimper
Were all it took to end the world
Broken glances and empty glasses
A double-edged surprise
I can hear it passing away
Piteous in its solitude
Reckless in its destruction
What could be more irrational
Than projection of a dream
Onto a mystery?
No, indeed, it's not what I expected
A twirl, a leap, a glance, a whimper
Casual words, stranger's tongues
The end?
My world is small
But somehow
I expected more than a whimper.
Petals
Paperback petals could dust the crystals from your eyes
I've seen it happen.
The animated batting, artificial
Around and around the brushed steel
Around the obsidian, deep as shoe polish
Dark and hollow as the night.
Sifting, sifting, always sifting
Through the volumes of herbs
I see and understand
It wasn't easy with the thankless sifting
Grasses, roots, beasts
Silence.
Your crystals are an overwhelming condemnation
Trade them for your happiness
He will know what to do with them
I am not the answer
All I can offer are petals.
The first one was my random attempt at an imagism-inspired poem.
The Ashtray
Accusatory stares in the thick, viscous silence
Of that breezy, baguette-scented French café
A thousand words and promises flung carelessly
Amidst the salt-and-pepper detritus of the ashtray
A Whimper
A few words spoken like a whimper
Were all it took to end the world
Broken glances and empty glasses
A double-edged surprise
I can hear it passing away
Piteous in its solitude
Reckless in its destruction
What could be more irrational
Than projection of a dream
Onto a mystery?
No, indeed, it's not what I expected
A twirl, a leap, a glance, a whimper
Casual words, stranger's tongues
The end?
My world is small
But somehow
I expected more than a whimper.
Petals
Paperback petals could dust the crystals from your eyes
I've seen it happen.
The animated batting, artificial
Around and around the brushed steel
Around the obsidian, deep as shoe polish
Dark and hollow as the night.
Sifting, sifting, always sifting
Through the volumes of herbs
I see and understand
It wasn't easy with the thankless sifting
Grasses, roots, beasts
Silence.
Your crystals are an overwhelming condemnation
Trade them for your happiness
He will know what to do with them
I am not the answer
All I can offer are petals.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Video Bonanza
So looking back on my Ambling Alp post, I figured I might as well post a few other videos of songs that have obsessed me within the last year or so, especially since it doesn't happen very often that I'll listen to one song over and over. These aren't necessarily my favorite songs from recent memory but they're ones that I just keep coming back to, especially (but not limited to) ones which are divorced from the context of an album that I listen to a lot as a whole, or a favorite artist or something like that.
For starters, here's Miike Snow's Silvia, albeit a shortened version for the single:
Fever Ray's "When I Grow Up" can only be described as strange, but the video makes it even stranger. Still, undeniably enthralling for some unknown reason.
This is a great version of an old classic, Stardust. This arrangement appears on Michael Bublé's latest CD, but this video is taken from a live performance on Craig Ferguson.
Ridiculously catchy song from Dave Matthews Band off their last album.
This goes back a little longer, but why not? Video's a little literal but what can you do?
Fantastic song by Shara Worden's My Brightest Diamond. Dragonfly=win. Not crazy about the video though. By which I mean...I really hate it.
OK, so this definitely isn't a song that exists in its own world for me, but I allow it here because it was on the EP which came out months before the album, so for a time, it was. Mew rocks. This video is slowed down and transposed down (probably one caused the other) so it's not as good as the original track, but the video is cool so I included this version.
For starters, here's Miike Snow's Silvia, albeit a shortened version for the single:
Fever Ray's "When I Grow Up" can only be described as strange, but the video makes it even stranger. Still, undeniably enthralling for some unknown reason.
This is a great version of an old classic, Stardust. This arrangement appears on Michael Bublé's latest CD, but this video is taken from a live performance on Craig Ferguson.
Ridiculously catchy song from Dave Matthews Band off their last album.
This goes back a little longer, but why not? Video's a little literal but what can you do?
Fantastic song by Shara Worden's My Brightest Diamond. Dragonfly=win. Not crazy about the video though. By which I mean...I really hate it.
OK, so this definitely isn't a song that exists in its own world for me, but I allow it here because it was on the EP which came out months before the album, so for a time, it was. Mew rocks. This video is slowed down and transposed down (probably one caused the other) so it's not as good as the original track, but the video is cool so I included this version.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Degradation of the Sexes
To begin with, for purposes of my argument I will assume that you watched the Super Bowl last week, or at least part of it (although I recognize that this may not be so, and is usually not so for me). The Super Bowl is likely the one televised event of the year in which people actually watch/care about the commercials. The reasons for this exposition of new, creative, and often funny commercials all at one time are self-evident from a marketing perspective, but it is enough to say that these commercials reach a far larger audience than the average set of commercials on just about any other program (especially in the TiVo and DVR age) and, because of the large and diverse viewership of the event, are in some ways indicative of society's self-image, or ideal image. Because a great portion of this image is far from shocking or unique, I will not be focusing on a number of elements of this societal ideal which are also of a great concern. However, in watching the game, I consciously noticed at least 5 or 6 commercials, clearly aimed at men, and therefore indicative of what men are perceived to want/be (or what society expects men to want/be), which were at the expense in some way of women or of the relationship between men and women. Again, this in itself is not shocking in its content given the increasingly prominent stereotype of American men, especially in the context of football, but it was the fact that it was a message so shamelessly emphasized despite the far more universal and diverse demographic which the Super Bowl draws, including a significant number more women than might watch the average football game (which is not to say that a significant number of women don't already watch football games).
So, if advertisers can perpetuate this message so unashamedly to such a large number of women and men, it occurred to me that it has become a societal assumption that gender boundaries and gender roles remain fixed. Worse yet, it reinforces the victimization of women which has become almost unilaterally accepted by women and men without either side perceiving it as such.
What do I mean by the victimization of women? Many men would protest that they would never victimize women or use them in any way, and many women would argue that they do not feel victimized or used either. Yet these same women would also profess certain insecurities about their self-image that they take for granted because it's been that way as long as they can remember, and these same men would admit that they frequently don't know how to get along with women in contexts outside of relationships or sex. Despite the significant gains in women's rights in the past century, there remains a profound gender gap, but the underlying reality is more sinister than simple misunderstandings between the sexes.
The victimization of women is all around us, and as I have said, has become accepted. Products are sold, not on their own merits, but by scantily clad models, each possessing society's accepted body image, an ideal which to fall short of means failure. These products are many and varied, ranging from beer to domain names, and are targeted at men to the point where men find it completely normal. A sexy woman partially stripping to sell a domain name is only a friendly message from Godaddy to men that this product is for them.
The problem, however, is more than just the simple sexual victimization which itself goes far beyond television commercials and extends to cheerleaders, magazines, movies, and pornography. Commercials and TV shows are just two places which drill into our collective consciousness that if the concept of separate public and private spheres for women and men is a thing of the past, the concept of social spheres is very much still in place. Few of these media ever portray platonic relationships between men and women, or even the potential for similar interests. The commercial which comes to mind is the one in which the 4 women walk into a secret room filled with shoes in the couple's house and begin screaming with excitement, while in the other room the men are similarly freaking out over the room filled with beer. (This itself demonstrates an assumption that women are commercial creatures, who care only about shopping and more shopping, while men only care about football and beer.)
This is particularly troubling when it extends to the relationship between husband and wife, however. In most portrayals of marriages (when they're not already portrayed as dysfunctional), the two have completely differing interests and social lives, and are rarely portrayed as being friends at all, much less best friends. Any action a man takes to please his wife or compromise with her in some way is generally seen as a means of getting something he wants, whether it be a car (as with the one Super Bowl commercial) or sex or uninterrupted "time with the guys." In a world where there is minimal male-female interaction (usually only in bed), it is small wonder that the sexes have such a difficult time understanding each other or coming together on common terms. Not only is objectification the norm, it is embraced on both sides.
Women are taught from a young age that their most important attributes are their beauty and/or sex appeal. This indoctrination is particularly concentrated in the pre- and early teen years, and by the time a girl is in her mid-teens, she frequently is obsessed with only two things: looking like the models and celebrities which are held up as the pinnacle to which a woman can aspire and getting an attractive boy. The pressure of both of these things is enormous, and leads many women who feel they fall short in one or both of these categories to be plagued by a strong sense of inadequacy, fall into depression, become anorexic or worse, inflict harm on themselves, or even commit suicide. Yet, few every complain about the pressure; it just is. Most of these women fail to recognize their own beauty and dignity because society refuses to affirm it. Pretty is insufficient. Smart is irrelevant. In objectifying women, society has made them believe that all they are is an object, so they try to make themselves the best object possible. But an object is still only an object, and objects are discarded when they are no longer "useful." When women begin to age and lose these qualities which they have regarded as all-important throughout their lives, many resort to all kinds of ways to look ever younger, instead of embracing who they are at that moment. Old is also unacceptable, especially in an age when wisdom and experience are routinely mocked and scorned.
What may seem less obvious than the ways in which society strips women of their inherent dignity and worth is the way in which it also degrades men. The question of "what makes a man" or what it is to be "manly" these days is itself a complex subject, worthy of its own discussion, but here I will only be concerned with this image in its relation to women. Men now believe that to not treat women as objects is unmanly, uncool, weak, or effeminate. Indeed, what is now "manly" has become very restricted in the popular image as well. Emotion, integrity, fidelity, generosity, and so forth are rarely glorified, even if they are not always degraded. While this is certainly not what men really are like in day to day life, the standard image of men is dictated by sex, beer, laziness, "toughness" and sometimes outright stupidity. In relations with women, it is characterized by manipulation and a perception that women could never have any legitimate authority over them.
Men believe they are supposed to act a certain way, and the victimization is just part of this. Instead of self-control or respect for self or others, debauchery is the norm. Nobody says it explicitly, but one need only look around in the media, music, commercials, TV shows to see what attributes in men are praiseworthy. Few men, if they think about what image we're really being sold, will find this accurate or desirable. However, consistent indoctrination is indeed making it more and more prevalent in reality as well, as men strive to conform to societal norms, consciously or unconsciously.
As an aside, I am not naïve enough to believe that much of this is new. I don't look to some bygone golden age and hold it up as an image of what has been lost. But it is equally undeniable that there has never been such a dissonance between what people profess is the state of the sexes in relation to themselves and each other, and what is actually the case. I also recognize that I am again making generalizations which are not universally applicable, but the generalizations are nonetheless useful to describe the whole.
Part of the reason for this lies in certain aspects of the feminist movement itself. Some feminists in the 60s and 70s, in particular, became preoccupied with sexual freedom or "empowerment" as the ultimate goal for women, and the final barrier which inhibited them from equality with men. Thus, the "sexual revolution." There is much to be said on this subject as well, but I will focus on the notion of "empowerment," a buzzword which is too nebulous to be truly useful, and is usually reduced to a vague sensation of being free or equal or liberated, as if sexual repression were the key factor in the subjugation of women throughout history. Yet, even in its vague expression, empowerment seems to be an empty concept, when it seems to have done the exact opposite. Rather than being used to describe "free love" and other general ideas of uninhibited sex, "empowerment" is more frequently used to justify sexual liberation in areas of objectification, like pornography or strip clubs. Some strippers believe that what they do "empowers" them in some way, but then fail to describe how. Certainly, it gives them a power over men, but not likely the power they would like. Sure, the men are entranced and aroused by what the woman is showing or doing, but in ogling their body and using the strippers selfishly for their own pleasure, they give nothing meaningful back to the women. Indeed, they care nothing for the women whatsoever; they are merely objects, another sexy body. They're not likely to be looking into their eyes, that's for sure. Is that power? Perhaps, of a certain kind. Is that fulfilling? I can't speak for them, but it seems to me that deep down, it wouldn't be. And the millions of girls who are force-fed the images of what they need to be to be successful and happy before they even hit puberty, is that freedom? No, it is enslavement. Millions of beautiful girls are constantly self-conscious, constantly in need of male assurance, in need of sexual attention to confirm that they are, in fact, desirable like the culture wants them to be. Is this empowerment? Is this equality?
The fact is that men and women need each other, and not just to procreate. The sexes complement and complete each other; alone we are missing a great deal, and we become only part of who we can be. And by this I don't mean on a relationship or spousal level. I mean the daily interactions between men and women, which most members on both sides take for granted, but which are essential to our identity, even for those with the most notches in their belt. But more importantly, each man and woman has a dignity and value independent of whatever image society places on them, and so few are aware of this. Because, after all, our society runs on commercialism and consumption, and in order to make us consume more, we must be made to believe we are falling short of where we should be. And if we're always falling short, we're always consuming more. Lost in the bottom line, however, is the effect that this self-image crisis has on each American, woman or man. An appeal to base instincts, and a liberating of them from all restraint in the name of freedom, sells, and it conveniently separates us and places us in easily-targetable demographic categories. Welcome to America; freedom is expensive.
So, if advertisers can perpetuate this message so unashamedly to such a large number of women and men, it occurred to me that it has become a societal assumption that gender boundaries and gender roles remain fixed. Worse yet, it reinforces the victimization of women which has become almost unilaterally accepted by women and men without either side perceiving it as such.
What do I mean by the victimization of women? Many men would protest that they would never victimize women or use them in any way, and many women would argue that they do not feel victimized or used either. Yet these same women would also profess certain insecurities about their self-image that they take for granted because it's been that way as long as they can remember, and these same men would admit that they frequently don't know how to get along with women in contexts outside of relationships or sex. Despite the significant gains in women's rights in the past century, there remains a profound gender gap, but the underlying reality is more sinister than simple misunderstandings between the sexes.
The victimization of women is all around us, and as I have said, has become accepted. Products are sold, not on their own merits, but by scantily clad models, each possessing society's accepted body image, an ideal which to fall short of means failure. These products are many and varied, ranging from beer to domain names, and are targeted at men to the point where men find it completely normal. A sexy woman partially stripping to sell a domain name is only a friendly message from Godaddy to men that this product is for them.
The problem, however, is more than just the simple sexual victimization which itself goes far beyond television commercials and extends to cheerleaders, magazines, movies, and pornography. Commercials and TV shows are just two places which drill into our collective consciousness that if the concept of separate public and private spheres for women and men is a thing of the past, the concept of social spheres is very much still in place. Few of these media ever portray platonic relationships between men and women, or even the potential for similar interests. The commercial which comes to mind is the one in which the 4 women walk into a secret room filled with shoes in the couple's house and begin screaming with excitement, while in the other room the men are similarly freaking out over the room filled with beer. (This itself demonstrates an assumption that women are commercial creatures, who care only about shopping and more shopping, while men only care about football and beer.)
This is particularly troubling when it extends to the relationship between husband and wife, however. In most portrayals of marriages (when they're not already portrayed as dysfunctional), the two have completely differing interests and social lives, and are rarely portrayed as being friends at all, much less best friends. Any action a man takes to please his wife or compromise with her in some way is generally seen as a means of getting something he wants, whether it be a car (as with the one Super Bowl commercial) or sex or uninterrupted "time with the guys." In a world where there is minimal male-female interaction (usually only in bed), it is small wonder that the sexes have such a difficult time understanding each other or coming together on common terms. Not only is objectification the norm, it is embraced on both sides.
Women are taught from a young age that their most important attributes are their beauty and/or sex appeal. This indoctrination is particularly concentrated in the pre- and early teen years, and by the time a girl is in her mid-teens, she frequently is obsessed with only two things: looking like the models and celebrities which are held up as the pinnacle to which a woman can aspire and getting an attractive boy. The pressure of both of these things is enormous, and leads many women who feel they fall short in one or both of these categories to be plagued by a strong sense of inadequacy, fall into depression, become anorexic or worse, inflict harm on themselves, or even commit suicide. Yet, few every complain about the pressure; it just is. Most of these women fail to recognize their own beauty and dignity because society refuses to affirm it. Pretty is insufficient. Smart is irrelevant. In objectifying women, society has made them believe that all they are is an object, so they try to make themselves the best object possible. But an object is still only an object, and objects are discarded when they are no longer "useful." When women begin to age and lose these qualities which they have regarded as all-important throughout their lives, many resort to all kinds of ways to look ever younger, instead of embracing who they are at that moment. Old is also unacceptable, especially in an age when wisdom and experience are routinely mocked and scorned.
What may seem less obvious than the ways in which society strips women of their inherent dignity and worth is the way in which it also degrades men. The question of "what makes a man" or what it is to be "manly" these days is itself a complex subject, worthy of its own discussion, but here I will only be concerned with this image in its relation to women. Men now believe that to not treat women as objects is unmanly, uncool, weak, or effeminate. Indeed, what is now "manly" has become very restricted in the popular image as well. Emotion, integrity, fidelity, generosity, and so forth are rarely glorified, even if they are not always degraded. While this is certainly not what men really are like in day to day life, the standard image of men is dictated by sex, beer, laziness, "toughness" and sometimes outright stupidity. In relations with women, it is characterized by manipulation and a perception that women could never have any legitimate authority over them.
Men believe they are supposed to act a certain way, and the victimization is just part of this. Instead of self-control or respect for self or others, debauchery is the norm. Nobody says it explicitly, but one need only look around in the media, music, commercials, TV shows to see what attributes in men are praiseworthy. Few men, if they think about what image we're really being sold, will find this accurate or desirable. However, consistent indoctrination is indeed making it more and more prevalent in reality as well, as men strive to conform to societal norms, consciously or unconsciously.
As an aside, I am not naïve enough to believe that much of this is new. I don't look to some bygone golden age and hold it up as an image of what has been lost. But it is equally undeniable that there has never been such a dissonance between what people profess is the state of the sexes in relation to themselves and each other, and what is actually the case. I also recognize that I am again making generalizations which are not universally applicable, but the generalizations are nonetheless useful to describe the whole.
Part of the reason for this lies in certain aspects of the feminist movement itself. Some feminists in the 60s and 70s, in particular, became preoccupied with sexual freedom or "empowerment" as the ultimate goal for women, and the final barrier which inhibited them from equality with men. Thus, the "sexual revolution." There is much to be said on this subject as well, but I will focus on the notion of "empowerment," a buzzword which is too nebulous to be truly useful, and is usually reduced to a vague sensation of being free or equal or liberated, as if sexual repression were the key factor in the subjugation of women throughout history. Yet, even in its vague expression, empowerment seems to be an empty concept, when it seems to have done the exact opposite. Rather than being used to describe "free love" and other general ideas of uninhibited sex, "empowerment" is more frequently used to justify sexual liberation in areas of objectification, like pornography or strip clubs. Some strippers believe that what they do "empowers" them in some way, but then fail to describe how. Certainly, it gives them a power over men, but not likely the power they would like. Sure, the men are entranced and aroused by what the woman is showing or doing, but in ogling their body and using the strippers selfishly for their own pleasure, they give nothing meaningful back to the women. Indeed, they care nothing for the women whatsoever; they are merely objects, another sexy body. They're not likely to be looking into their eyes, that's for sure. Is that power? Perhaps, of a certain kind. Is that fulfilling? I can't speak for them, but it seems to me that deep down, it wouldn't be. And the millions of girls who are force-fed the images of what they need to be to be successful and happy before they even hit puberty, is that freedom? No, it is enslavement. Millions of beautiful girls are constantly self-conscious, constantly in need of male assurance, in need of sexual attention to confirm that they are, in fact, desirable like the culture wants them to be. Is this empowerment? Is this equality?
The fact is that men and women need each other, and not just to procreate. The sexes complement and complete each other; alone we are missing a great deal, and we become only part of who we can be. And by this I don't mean on a relationship or spousal level. I mean the daily interactions between men and women, which most members on both sides take for granted, but which are essential to our identity, even for those with the most notches in their belt. But more importantly, each man and woman has a dignity and value independent of whatever image society places on them, and so few are aware of this. Because, after all, our society runs on commercialism and consumption, and in order to make us consume more, we must be made to believe we are falling short of where we should be. And if we're always falling short, we're always consuming more. Lost in the bottom line, however, is the effect that this self-image crisis has on each American, woman or man. An appeal to base instincts, and a liberating of them from all restraint in the name of freedom, sells, and it conveniently separates us and places us in easily-targetable demographic categories. Welcome to America; freedom is expensive.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Top 100 Albums of the Decade
I know this post is about a month overdue, but this little project took a lot more time than I thought it would, so I haven't had time to work on it for a while. In any event, it's finally here, the requisite "best of" list that people expect from someone who listens to as much music as I do.
Let me preface this list with a few statements. First of all, you will not agree with me. That's just the nature of lists like this. However, I also feel relatively confident that most people, if they gave some of these albums a listen, would find something to like, as the list is extremely diverse. That is one of the reasons why the list was so difficult to compile; I had to compare radically different genres, styles, artists, and years. Despite this apples to oranges quandary, I was able to use some basic guidelines, which it is useful to keep in mind when reading the list.
For starters, there are no EPs, Christmas albums, movie soundtracks (sorry Garden State), or new recordings of old material (which eliminates most classical and some jazz that would have been released in the last ten years). The ranking of the albums has a lot of factors, including the overall quality of the musicianship and lyrics, the effect it had on me at the time I first listened to it, whether it has had staying power, and the overall strength of the album. These factors weighed in differently on different albums, and I arranged some of these largely by feel. For example, there are more albums from 2003-2007 in the top 50 because in order to have made the list at all, they would have had to develop into some sort of classic for me, so that they're not mostly forgotten. 2009 albums, on the other hand, haven't had that opportunity, so there are more of them, but not as many highly ranked because they are fresh in my mind but have not achieved classic status. Some albums are excellent works musically but failed to touch me in a particularly special or notable way, so they either are lower on the list or failed to make it entirely. Some albums are ranked lower than is indicative of my actual liking for the artist, simply because their albums aren't strong from start to finish (ex. Stars is an excellent band, but half their songs are awesome and the other half are extremely forgettable - thus they only have one album on the list and it's 62nd). Also, some of the rankings don't necessarily reflect how I think of them now. The Killers' Hot Fuss album was one of my favorites for a while after it came out, but I rarely listen to it/them now. However, its impact was large enough that it ranks highly.
The other thing to keep in mind is that this list is in no way static. On any given day the order could be completely different, but I had to pick one and stick to it. Also, there's probably a significant amount of albums that either could have or should have made it, but didn't. That is also the nature of things when you have as much music as I do. With all that established, here is the list of the top 100 albums of 2000-2009 as I see it.
1. Explosions in the Sky - The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place (2003)
2. Sufjan Stevens - Come On Feel The Illinoise! (2006)
3. Keane - Hopes And Fears (2004)
4. Death Cab For Cutie - Transatlanticism (2003)
5. The Shins - Wincing The Night Away (2007)
6. Frou Frou - Details (2002)
7. The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love (2009)
8. Mew - And The Glass Handed Kites (2005)
9. The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow (2003)
10. Snow Patrol - Final Straw (2003)
11. Death Cab For Cutie - Plans (2005)
12. Neko Case- Fox Confessor Brings the Flood (2006)
13. Gabe Dixon Band - Gabe Dixon Band (2008)
14. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago (2007)
15. Fleet Foxes - Ragged Wood (2008)
16. Anathallo - Canopy Glow (2008)
17. Coldplay - A Rush Of Blood To The Head (2002)
18. Coheed & Cambria - In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3 (2003)
19. The Decemberists - Picaresque (2005)
20. 311 - Evolver (2003)
21. Imogen Heap - Speak For Yourself (2005)
22. Sufjan Stevens - Greetings From Michigan: The Great Lakes State (2003)
23. The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema (2005)
24. Kings of Convenience - Declaration of Dependence (2009)
25. Oren Lavie - The Opposite Side of the Sea (2007) (US-2009)
26. The Killers - Hot Fuss (2004)
27. Death Cab For Cutie - Narrow Stairs (2009)
28. Keane - Under The Iron Sea (2006)
29. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife (2006)
30. Kings of Convenience - Quiet Is The New Loud (2001)
31. Feist - Let It Die (2004)
32. Interpol - Antics (2004)
33. Eisley - Room Noises (2005)
34. Jamie Cullum - Twentysomething (2003)
35. Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine (2005)
36. Norah Jones - Come Away With Me (2002)
37. Sufjan Stevens - Seven Swans (2004)
38. Imogen Heap - Ellipse (2009)
39. The New Pornographers - Challengers (2007)
40. The Mars Volta - Frances the Mute (2005)
41. Coldplay - X&Y (2005)
42. Coheed & Cambria - Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV. Volume 1: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness (2005)
43. Explosions in the Sky - All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone (2007)
44. Antony and the Johnsons - I Am A Bird Now (2005)
45. Foo Fighters - In Your Honor (2005)
46. Band of Horses - Cease to Begin (2007)
47. Jimmy Eat World - Bleed American (2001)
48. A Fine Frenzy - One Cell in the Sea (2007)
49. Carbon Leaf - Indian Summer (2004)
50. The Reign of Kindo - Rhythm, Chord, and Melody (2008)
51. Embrace - Out Of Nothing (2004)
52. Mew - No More Stories… (2009)
53. This Day & Age - The Bell and the Hammer (2006)
54. Melody Gardot - My One and Only Thrill (2009)
55. Michael Bublé - Michael Bublé (2003)
56. Iron & Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days (2004)
57. Muse - Absolution (2003)
58. Kings of Convenience - Riot On An Empty Street (2004)
59. Neko Case - Middle Cyclone (2009)
60. 311 - Uplifter (2009)
61. The Weepies - Say I Am You (2006)
62. Stars - Set Yourself on Fire (2004)
63. Snow Patrol - A Hundred Million Suns (2008)
64. Antony and the Johnsons - The Crying Light (2009)
65. Iron & Wine - The Shepherd's Dog (2007)
66. As Tall As Lions - As Tall As Lions (2006)
67. The Mars Volta - De-loused in the Comatorium (2003)
68. Andrew Bird - Noble Beast (2009)
69. Muse - Black Holes and Revelations (2006)
70. Muse - The Resistance (2009)
71. Pinback - Autumn of the Seraphs (2007)
72. Regina Spektor - Begin To Hope (2006)
73. Madeleine Peyroux - Careless Love (2004)
74. Mute Math - Mute Math (2006)
75. Circa Survive - Juturna (2005)
76. Emiliana Torrini - Fisherman's Woman (2005)
77. Aimee Mann - Bachelor No. 2 (2000)
78. Brandi Carlile - Give Up the Ghost (2009)
79. The Hush Sound - Like Vines (2006)
80. Kate Havnevik - Melankton (2007)
81. Porcupine Tree - In Absentia (2002)
82. Zero 7 - Simple Things (2001)
83. Tegan & Sara - So Jealous (2004)
84. Joshua Radin - We Were Here (2006)
85. Anberlin - Never Take Friendship Personal (2005)
86. Deas Vail - All the Houses Look the Same (2007)
87. Sondre Lerche - Heartbeat Radio (2009)
88. Feist - The Reminder (2007)
89. The Wailin' Jennys - 40 Days (2004)
90. Honeycut - The Day I Turned to Glass (2006)
91. The Weepies - Hideaway (2008)
92. Jack Johnson - In Between Dreams (2005)
93. Audioslave - Audioslave (2002)
94. Beck - Guero (2005)
95. Wolfmother - Wolfmother (2006)
96. Sigur Ros - Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust (2008)
97. A Fine Frenzy - Bomb in a Birdcage (2009)
98. The Arcade Fire - Funeral (2004)
99. Metric - Fantasies (2009)
100. Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend (2007)
Tune in to my radio show this Saturday (February 6th) and next Saturday (February 13th) at 12 noon when I will be counting down the top 25 albums on this list by playing a representative song from each of them. So if you want to know what my top choices sound like, listen in to one or both by going to www.wrcufm.com and clicking "Listen In". Message me on AIM during my show (screenname "wrcu") to give feedback or let me know you're listening in.
Let me preface this list with a few statements. First of all, you will not agree with me. That's just the nature of lists like this. However, I also feel relatively confident that most people, if they gave some of these albums a listen, would find something to like, as the list is extremely diverse. That is one of the reasons why the list was so difficult to compile; I had to compare radically different genres, styles, artists, and years. Despite this apples to oranges quandary, I was able to use some basic guidelines, which it is useful to keep in mind when reading the list.
For starters, there are no EPs, Christmas albums, movie soundtracks (sorry Garden State), or new recordings of old material (which eliminates most classical and some jazz that would have been released in the last ten years). The ranking of the albums has a lot of factors, including the overall quality of the musicianship and lyrics, the effect it had on me at the time I first listened to it, whether it has had staying power, and the overall strength of the album. These factors weighed in differently on different albums, and I arranged some of these largely by feel. For example, there are more albums from 2003-2007 in the top 50 because in order to have made the list at all, they would have had to develop into some sort of classic for me, so that they're not mostly forgotten. 2009 albums, on the other hand, haven't had that opportunity, so there are more of them, but not as many highly ranked because they are fresh in my mind but have not achieved classic status. Some albums are excellent works musically but failed to touch me in a particularly special or notable way, so they either are lower on the list or failed to make it entirely. Some albums are ranked lower than is indicative of my actual liking for the artist, simply because their albums aren't strong from start to finish (ex. Stars is an excellent band, but half their songs are awesome and the other half are extremely forgettable - thus they only have one album on the list and it's 62nd). Also, some of the rankings don't necessarily reflect how I think of them now. The Killers' Hot Fuss album was one of my favorites for a while after it came out, but I rarely listen to it/them now. However, its impact was large enough that it ranks highly.
The other thing to keep in mind is that this list is in no way static. On any given day the order could be completely different, but I had to pick one and stick to it. Also, there's probably a significant amount of albums that either could have or should have made it, but didn't. That is also the nature of things when you have as much music as I do. With all that established, here is the list of the top 100 albums of 2000-2009 as I see it.
1. Explosions in the Sky - The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place (2003)
2. Sufjan Stevens - Come On Feel The Illinoise! (2006)
3. Keane - Hopes And Fears (2004)
4. Death Cab For Cutie - Transatlanticism (2003)
5. The Shins - Wincing The Night Away (2007)
6. Frou Frou - Details (2002)
7. The Decemberists - The Hazards of Love (2009)
8. Mew - And The Glass Handed Kites (2005)
9. The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow (2003)
10. Snow Patrol - Final Straw (2003)
11. Death Cab For Cutie - Plans (2005)
12. Neko Case- Fox Confessor Brings the Flood (2006)
13. Gabe Dixon Band - Gabe Dixon Band (2008)
14. Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago (2007)
15. Fleet Foxes - Ragged Wood (2008)
16. Anathallo - Canopy Glow (2008)
17. Coldplay - A Rush Of Blood To The Head (2002)
18. Coheed & Cambria - In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3 (2003)
19. The Decemberists - Picaresque (2005)
20. 311 - Evolver (2003)
21. Imogen Heap - Speak For Yourself (2005)
22. Sufjan Stevens - Greetings From Michigan: The Great Lakes State (2003)
23. The New Pornographers - Twin Cinema (2005)
24. Kings of Convenience - Declaration of Dependence (2009)
25. Oren Lavie - The Opposite Side of the Sea (2007) (US-2009)
26. The Killers - Hot Fuss (2004)
27. Death Cab For Cutie - Narrow Stairs (2009)
28. Keane - Under The Iron Sea (2006)
29. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife (2006)
30. Kings of Convenience - Quiet Is The New Loud (2001)
31. Feist - Let It Die (2004)
32. Interpol - Antics (2004)
33. Eisley - Room Noises (2005)
34. Jamie Cullum - Twentysomething (2003)
35. Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine (2005)
36. Norah Jones - Come Away With Me (2002)
37. Sufjan Stevens - Seven Swans (2004)
38. Imogen Heap - Ellipse (2009)
39. The New Pornographers - Challengers (2007)
40. The Mars Volta - Frances the Mute (2005)
41. Coldplay - X&Y (2005)
42. Coheed & Cambria - Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV. Volume 1: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness (2005)
43. Explosions in the Sky - All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone (2007)
44. Antony and the Johnsons - I Am A Bird Now (2005)
45. Foo Fighters - In Your Honor (2005)
46. Band of Horses - Cease to Begin (2007)
47. Jimmy Eat World - Bleed American (2001)
48. A Fine Frenzy - One Cell in the Sea (2007)
49. Carbon Leaf - Indian Summer (2004)
50. The Reign of Kindo - Rhythm, Chord, and Melody (2008)
51. Embrace - Out Of Nothing (2004)
52. Mew - No More Stories… (2009)
53. This Day & Age - The Bell and the Hammer (2006)
54. Melody Gardot - My One and Only Thrill (2009)
55. Michael Bublé - Michael Bublé (2003)
56. Iron & Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days (2004)
57. Muse - Absolution (2003)
58. Kings of Convenience - Riot On An Empty Street (2004)
59. Neko Case - Middle Cyclone (2009)
60. 311 - Uplifter (2009)
61. The Weepies - Say I Am You (2006)
62. Stars - Set Yourself on Fire (2004)
63. Snow Patrol - A Hundred Million Suns (2008)
64. Antony and the Johnsons - The Crying Light (2009)
65. Iron & Wine - The Shepherd's Dog (2007)
66. As Tall As Lions - As Tall As Lions (2006)
67. The Mars Volta - De-loused in the Comatorium (2003)
68. Andrew Bird - Noble Beast (2009)
69. Muse - Black Holes and Revelations (2006)
70. Muse - The Resistance (2009)
71. Pinback - Autumn of the Seraphs (2007)
72. Regina Spektor - Begin To Hope (2006)
73. Madeleine Peyroux - Careless Love (2004)
74. Mute Math - Mute Math (2006)
75. Circa Survive - Juturna (2005)
76. Emiliana Torrini - Fisherman's Woman (2005)
77. Aimee Mann - Bachelor No. 2 (2000)
78. Brandi Carlile - Give Up the Ghost (2009)
79. The Hush Sound - Like Vines (2006)
80. Kate Havnevik - Melankton (2007)
81. Porcupine Tree - In Absentia (2002)
82. Zero 7 - Simple Things (2001)
83. Tegan & Sara - So Jealous (2004)
84. Joshua Radin - We Were Here (2006)
85. Anberlin - Never Take Friendship Personal (2005)
86. Deas Vail - All the Houses Look the Same (2007)
87. Sondre Lerche - Heartbeat Radio (2009)
88. Feist - The Reminder (2007)
89. The Wailin' Jennys - 40 Days (2004)
90. Honeycut - The Day I Turned to Glass (2006)
91. The Weepies - Hideaway (2008)
92. Jack Johnson - In Between Dreams (2005)
93. Audioslave - Audioslave (2002)
94. Beck - Guero (2005)
95. Wolfmother - Wolfmother (2006)
96. Sigur Ros - Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust (2008)
97. A Fine Frenzy - Bomb in a Birdcage (2009)
98. The Arcade Fire - Funeral (2004)
99. Metric - Fantasies (2009)
100. Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend (2007)
Tune in to my radio show this Saturday (February 6th) and next Saturday (February 13th) at 12 noon when I will be counting down the top 25 albums on this list by playing a representative song from each of them. So if you want to know what my top choices sound like, listen in to one or both by going to www.wrcufm.com and clicking "Listen In". Message me on AIM during my show (screenname "wrcu") to give feedback or let me know you're listening in.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Ambling Alp
I don't do this very often, but I simply have to share the brilliance that is Ambling Alp by Yeasayer. I listen primarily to albums rather than individual songs, and rarely do I listen to a song over and over again, but such was the case with this song a week or two ago. As it has still not grown old for me, and is currently sitting at 23 plays in my iTunes (a lot for me in the span of a couple weeks), I would like to share the video with you, which is as entrancing and disturbing as the song itself. Enjoy the crazy.
Note: There's some nudity (nothing overkill) if that sort of thing offends you.
Note: There's some nudity (nothing overkill) if that sort of thing offends you.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The Gap in our Education
This is a question I've been unable to formulate since I've been here at Colgate and now it seems suddenly clear to me. With an education like the one I'm getting, at one of the top schools in the nation, with excellent professors and an excellent liberal arts learning environment, why does something still feel missing academically? Why do I still want something more? Certainly not more work, I have quite enough of that thank you very much. No, this flaw in the Colgate system, (and I think, to a greater or lesser extent at different schools, the American college system) is nothing the professors can do anything about. Now comes the part where I make a lot of generalizations which will assuredly not be true in all cases. Please bear with me.
The problem is extracurricular discourse and discussion. From all my reading, both historical and literary, I gather that at various points in the American past, college students passed much of their time in discussion and friendly debate with one another about various issues ranging from philosophy, to music, to religion, to literature, to politics, and so forth. Dissenting opinions were welcomed and even sought out, even among the best of friends. In fact, in some cases the friends who truly were the best of friends were those with the most diverging views, because it facilitated the most interesting discourse and maximized learning and expanded perspectives on both sides. The issues up for debate were, of course, different at various moments in history. Princeton in the 20's, for example, would have fostered significantly more debate on literature and philosophy, whereas the 60's saw a great deal more concern for political issues.
This is not to say these things are nonexistent today. However, a significant number of people I have spoken to not only find the idea of people spending a couple hours debating the existence of God, in a respectful and tolerant manner, "weird" or "unfathomable", they would themselves feel extremely uncomfortable in such a situation. The reasons for this are twofold: for one, people today do not like to have their beliefs challenged in one way or another, and for another, people frequently take any such challenge as a challenge to their character and shut out the other person entirely. What people do not realize is that academic fulfillment and true intellectual growth are most fully realized in these situations. Without true scholastic discussion, we are all merely running around with our hands over our ears and our mouths spouting inaudible nonsense while we cling to familiarity and condemn difference and dissent. Indeed, divergence from a popularly held opinion is the quickest ticket to a social and/or academic leper colony in this environment of intellectual conformity. Try offering a religious perspective in Western Traditions to see what I mean.
The unwillingness to listen to others is one reason the nation has become so polarized, politically and socially. How many times do we hear people say something we disagree with, but choose not to respond, for reason ranging from fear of being attacked or shunned for our opinions, to fear of having the other person mistake our disagreement for an attack on them, to simple fear of debate or tension or "awkwardness." If people listened to each other, and stopped for a moment to consider that everyone has something to say that is worth hearing, perhaps we could get to the real heart of the issues and recognize our common ground and go from there. We could acknowledge that nobody wants anyone excluded from health care and then sit down in respectful discussion to determine how best to attain this goal. We could cease arguing about things that have concrete answers substantiated by facts (by merely opening our eyes and recognizing that a birth certificate is, in fact, proof that one was born in the United States). If we could stop closing our ears and opening our mouths about easy issues like these, we could be less afraid to argue on more complicated and polarizing issues, like abortion and gay marriage and so on. People seem to believe a pro-life person and a pro-choice person cannot sit down and respectfully and rationally discuss the issue without tearing each other apart. Thus, rational discussion is almost nonexistent. The playing field becomes dominated by radicals and extremists on both sides, whose vitriol and verbal sparring (or worse) undermine both sides and cause the breakdown in communication so prevalent today, a breakdown which makes it taboo to discuss almost anything relevant. Thus, we talk about sports and our neighbors and TV and pretend to feel good about our unfulfilling consensus.
This is the world we will be entering in a few years. And how are we being trained to combat this? We aren't. We think ourselves intelligent and cultured and somehow better than everybody else, but what have we done, really? We go to class, we cram for an exam, we get good grades, and we all forget most of what we learned by the next semester. We enter the real world in some capacity and begin to live just like everyone else, earning money so we can buy cars and iPhones and jewelry. What have we learned that we can carry with us into the world? College is not a time to absorb all the minute details and facts that we can possibly cram into our minds and hope that they all stay there through our lives. College is about learning how to think, how to interact, how to challenge and dissent, how to respond to challenges and different points of view, how to be true intellectuals and true human beings. Yet here at this training ground for the rest of our lives, what are we really learning? How many people will really take these lessons out of college? When I walk through Frank Dining Hall or sit on the Cruiser, I do not hear people discussing Plato or health care or the existence of God or the merits of modern music. No, mostly I hear sordid tales of weekend misadventures and cliquish social intrigue. If this is what we're really learning to take out into the real world, is it any wonder that it is in the state that it is? Can one be an alcoholic at school and immediately become a sober family man thereafter. Can one make poor choices week in and week out and hope to be responsible in business, medicine, academia, or whatever one chooses to do after college?
The fact is few can do these things. We can sit in a classroom and take notes every day and write our formulaic papers, and we will certainly learn. We may even pass with flying colors if we keep our heads about us. But even among the comparatively responsible and studious, academic discussion is less than prevalent. This needs to change if we are to go forth into society to truly make a difference in it. America does not need more businesspeople and politicians, teachers and artists. It needs thinkers and feelers, lovers and dreamers. It needs rational, respectful, conscientious individuals with some sense of integrity. And most of all, it needs dissent. America cannot function without healthy dissent. Dissent is not treason, argument is not a personal attack, rebuttal is not reprisal. When we can look someone whose views differ starkly from our own in the eye and say "I respect you as an individual and I will listen to what you have to say with the full knowledge that you will also listen to me, and I will attempt to find any common group that we can with you", then we can consider ourselves educated and cultured. Then, the college system will have done its job. Then, America can become truly great once again.
The problem is extracurricular discourse and discussion. From all my reading, both historical and literary, I gather that at various points in the American past, college students passed much of their time in discussion and friendly debate with one another about various issues ranging from philosophy, to music, to religion, to literature, to politics, and so forth. Dissenting opinions were welcomed and even sought out, even among the best of friends. In fact, in some cases the friends who truly were the best of friends were those with the most diverging views, because it facilitated the most interesting discourse and maximized learning and expanded perspectives on both sides. The issues up for debate were, of course, different at various moments in history. Princeton in the 20's, for example, would have fostered significantly more debate on literature and philosophy, whereas the 60's saw a great deal more concern for political issues.
This is not to say these things are nonexistent today. However, a significant number of people I have spoken to not only find the idea of people spending a couple hours debating the existence of God, in a respectful and tolerant manner, "weird" or "unfathomable", they would themselves feel extremely uncomfortable in such a situation. The reasons for this are twofold: for one, people today do not like to have their beliefs challenged in one way or another, and for another, people frequently take any such challenge as a challenge to their character and shut out the other person entirely. What people do not realize is that academic fulfillment and true intellectual growth are most fully realized in these situations. Without true scholastic discussion, we are all merely running around with our hands over our ears and our mouths spouting inaudible nonsense while we cling to familiarity and condemn difference and dissent. Indeed, divergence from a popularly held opinion is the quickest ticket to a social and/or academic leper colony in this environment of intellectual conformity. Try offering a religious perspective in Western Traditions to see what I mean.
The unwillingness to listen to others is one reason the nation has become so polarized, politically and socially. How many times do we hear people say something we disagree with, but choose not to respond, for reason ranging from fear of being attacked or shunned for our opinions, to fear of having the other person mistake our disagreement for an attack on them, to simple fear of debate or tension or "awkwardness." If people listened to each other, and stopped for a moment to consider that everyone has something to say that is worth hearing, perhaps we could get to the real heart of the issues and recognize our common ground and go from there. We could acknowledge that nobody wants anyone excluded from health care and then sit down in respectful discussion to determine how best to attain this goal. We could cease arguing about things that have concrete answers substantiated by facts (by merely opening our eyes and recognizing that a birth certificate is, in fact, proof that one was born in the United States). If we could stop closing our ears and opening our mouths about easy issues like these, we could be less afraid to argue on more complicated and polarizing issues, like abortion and gay marriage and so on. People seem to believe a pro-life person and a pro-choice person cannot sit down and respectfully and rationally discuss the issue without tearing each other apart. Thus, rational discussion is almost nonexistent. The playing field becomes dominated by radicals and extremists on both sides, whose vitriol and verbal sparring (or worse) undermine both sides and cause the breakdown in communication so prevalent today, a breakdown which makes it taboo to discuss almost anything relevant. Thus, we talk about sports and our neighbors and TV and pretend to feel good about our unfulfilling consensus.
This is the world we will be entering in a few years. And how are we being trained to combat this? We aren't. We think ourselves intelligent and cultured and somehow better than everybody else, but what have we done, really? We go to class, we cram for an exam, we get good grades, and we all forget most of what we learned by the next semester. We enter the real world in some capacity and begin to live just like everyone else, earning money so we can buy cars and iPhones and jewelry. What have we learned that we can carry with us into the world? College is not a time to absorb all the minute details and facts that we can possibly cram into our minds and hope that they all stay there through our lives. College is about learning how to think, how to interact, how to challenge and dissent, how to respond to challenges and different points of view, how to be true intellectuals and true human beings. Yet here at this training ground for the rest of our lives, what are we really learning? How many people will really take these lessons out of college? When I walk through Frank Dining Hall or sit on the Cruiser, I do not hear people discussing Plato or health care or the existence of God or the merits of modern music. No, mostly I hear sordid tales of weekend misadventures and cliquish social intrigue. If this is what we're really learning to take out into the real world, is it any wonder that it is in the state that it is? Can one be an alcoholic at school and immediately become a sober family man thereafter. Can one make poor choices week in and week out and hope to be responsible in business, medicine, academia, or whatever one chooses to do after college?
The fact is few can do these things. We can sit in a classroom and take notes every day and write our formulaic papers, and we will certainly learn. We may even pass with flying colors if we keep our heads about us. But even among the comparatively responsible and studious, academic discussion is less than prevalent. This needs to change if we are to go forth into society to truly make a difference in it. America does not need more businesspeople and politicians, teachers and artists. It needs thinkers and feelers, lovers and dreamers. It needs rational, respectful, conscientious individuals with some sense of integrity. And most of all, it needs dissent. America cannot function without healthy dissent. Dissent is not treason, argument is not a personal attack, rebuttal is not reprisal. When we can look someone whose views differ starkly from our own in the eye and say "I respect you as an individual and I will listen to what you have to say with the full knowledge that you will also listen to me, and I will attempt to find any common group that we can with you", then we can consider ourselves educated and cultured. Then, the college system will have done its job. Then, America can become truly great once again.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Gargoyles
I promise this blog isn't going to be entirely poems. It just happens that that's what I've had time to write.
Gargoyles
Introspective stone figures grace a sea of light
Spectral demons of time immemorial
Raking their thoughts over gulfs of the soul
Regurgitating the past, and emptiness, and the paranoia of fools
Overcome by the moonlight
The vitriol of a thousand vilified men crashing like waves
Upon those absent, and those too near
The spirit is aching, the will is failing
In the lapse of the madness, a profusion of ink
Blotting out the fecundity of experiences
A war fought only in peace
A frozen stalemate in the midst of thoughts
An icy wind brings the mist of Lethe
Retreating once more to impassive brooding silence
Lurking in evanescent realms of nonbeing
To again crash on the crags of despair
And elicit a cascade of fears and nothings
They, cruel gargoyles of the lonely.
Gargoyles
Introspective stone figures grace a sea of light
Spectral demons of time immemorial
Raking their thoughts over gulfs of the soul
Regurgitating the past, and emptiness, and the paranoia of fools
Overcome by the moonlight
The vitriol of a thousand vilified men crashing like waves
Upon those absent, and those too near
The spirit is aching, the will is failing
In the lapse of the madness, a profusion of ink
Blotting out the fecundity of experiences
A war fought only in peace
A frozen stalemate in the midst of thoughts
An icy wind brings the mist of Lethe
Retreating once more to impassive brooding silence
Lurking in evanescent realms of nonbeing
To again crash on the crags of despair
And elicit a cascade of fears and nothings
They, cruel gargoyles of the lonely.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
A new beginning
I mean it this time. I really do. I'm going to start updating this again. What?! you say? Mike is actually going to update a blog? Yes. Yes I am. Lately I've been musing a lot and giving silent mental dialectics to nobody at all on a host of different subjects which have crossed my mind. Every time I think to myself, "I could write a blog post about that." Then I think, "I don't have time and nobody will read it anyway." Well I've got news for me. It's a vicious cycle, and if I don't post anything worth reading, nobody will read it (thank you Captain Obvious). So I will try to bring this closer to the original point of the blog, a combination between my random thoughts and observations, and my creative output. Which brings me to the second reason I'm resuscitating my blog: I just produced my first creative work since January.
I know that so far, this blog is primarily dominated by my writing (which was supposed to be the purpose of the other blog), but it should begin to balance out soon. Enough rambling though, I'll get to the poem now.
Last night I was at the Barge, and as is my custom whenever in an establishment of coffee production, I purchased a (large) latte. Fast forward 3 hours. It's 2 AM and I'm still awake. Hell, the thought of sleep has not even begun to cross my mind yet. I ran out of mindless distractions earlier in the day, so what could I possibly do to delay getting in bed and tossing and turning from caffeine? Then a flash of inspiration! I was listening to Jimmy Eat World and a bunch of other music with good lyrics whose poetry I had appreciated back in the day (which was a Wednesday) and it made me long for those days once more. If I'm serious in my ambition to write, I reasoned, then it follows that il faut que j'écrit! Preparing myself, I opened up a blank Textedit document and positioned my fingers over the keys. Nothing. Inspiration=zero. Disappointed, I nearly gave up. Then I decided to just write and see where it took me, whether I could develop any themes, any meaning from the detritus of my mind. I started slowly at first, and then it just started to flow. When at last it felt ended, I looked back on it. Though I had no plan, no special meaning in mind when I wrote it, it just seemed to work somehow. The meaning was there. But now I leave it to the reader to interpret it (and even to decide if it's any good, it truly may not be, but as this was not painstakingly crafted, I will not be offended). It has no title as of yet, and it may not even be truly finished. But here is the first draft of my new poem.
Fifteen tons of bricks from the tower
Which is the one upon which to rest my head?
I saw two dead, but all was grass.
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of love and war?
Have you seen the dead bird on the hill?
It stirred briefly, I think its wings were burned
I felt a kinship with it, his eyes were mine
I too have flown
I too am singed
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of birds and fire? Of salt and light?
Have you seen the weight of the world?
It lies sullen and scorned
I think I recognize it
Today the ether was poured out
I knew not what ecstasy was before
This blissful immersion, sublime effervescence
I too have been poured out
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of the spheres? Has the dome been polished?
Whence comes this figure all in grey? His mantle is frayed
He is bent and careworn
He might have been me one day. His eyes were mine.
I do not believe he noticed.
Tomorrow there will be ephemeral spires
Reaching ever higher, their spirits ever lower
Bricks all around, bricks in my head, bricks on the ground
Twenty thousand tons
How does one weigh a life? Show me the balance
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of murder and rape? Of rings and the end?
He has one eye. It is not mine.
Summon the lanterns. Extinguish the dark.
I think I recognize it.
I know that so far, this blog is primarily dominated by my writing (which was supposed to be the purpose of the other blog), but it should begin to balance out soon. Enough rambling though, I'll get to the poem now.
Last night I was at the Barge, and as is my custom whenever in an establishment of coffee production, I purchased a (large) latte. Fast forward 3 hours. It's 2 AM and I'm still awake. Hell, the thought of sleep has not even begun to cross my mind yet. I ran out of mindless distractions earlier in the day, so what could I possibly do to delay getting in bed and tossing and turning from caffeine? Then a flash of inspiration! I was listening to Jimmy Eat World and a bunch of other music with good lyrics whose poetry I had appreciated back in the day (which was a Wednesday) and it made me long for those days once more. If I'm serious in my ambition to write, I reasoned, then it follows that il faut que j'écrit! Preparing myself, I opened up a blank Textedit document and positioned my fingers over the keys. Nothing. Inspiration=zero. Disappointed, I nearly gave up. Then I decided to just write and see where it took me, whether I could develop any themes, any meaning from the detritus of my mind. I started slowly at first, and then it just started to flow. When at last it felt ended, I looked back on it. Though I had no plan, no special meaning in mind when I wrote it, it just seemed to work somehow. The meaning was there. But now I leave it to the reader to interpret it (and even to decide if it's any good, it truly may not be, but as this was not painstakingly crafted, I will not be offended). It has no title as of yet, and it may not even be truly finished. But here is the first draft of my new poem.
Fifteen tons of bricks from the tower
Which is the one upon which to rest my head?
I saw two dead, but all was grass.
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of love and war?
Have you seen the dead bird on the hill?
It stirred briefly, I think its wings were burned
I felt a kinship with it, his eyes were mine
I too have flown
I too am singed
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of birds and fire? Of salt and light?
Have you seen the weight of the world?
It lies sullen and scorned
I think I recognize it
Today the ether was poured out
I knew not what ecstasy was before
This blissful immersion, sublime effervescence
I too have been poured out
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of the spheres? Has the dome been polished?
Whence comes this figure all in grey? His mantle is frayed
He is bent and careworn
He might have been me one day. His eyes were mine.
I do not believe he noticed.
Tomorrow there will be ephemeral spires
Reaching ever higher, their spirits ever lower
Bricks all around, bricks in my head, bricks on the ground
Twenty thousand tons
How does one weigh a life? Show me the balance
Where is the man who wanted it done?
Is this the time of murder and rape? Of rings and the end?
He has one eye. It is not mine.
Summon the lanterns. Extinguish the dark.
I think I recognize it.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Dreamwriter
Today I realized that despite my intentions at the beginning of the summer to keep writing (since I now have time), I haven't written anything since summer began! The last poem I wrote was in May, and my primary goal to continue writing the book I started for my graduation project, called Dreamwriter, has been forgotten about.
I started writing it after several scrapped attempts at other storylines sometime in October of last year. The idea is a combination of two pieces of inspiration, one from a couple years ago when running through potential story ideas in my head, and one while I was listening to the Air cd Talkie Walkie and let my imagination wander through a series of perfect images during the song "Universal Traveler." These images led to a quickly typed prologue which I decided I would build into my story. The only problem is that I wasn't really sure how to follow up the prologue, so I simply wrote nothing for quite a while. It wasn't until February that I actually began to write again. Sporadic bursts of writing culminated in a 25 page product to show to the judges of my project in early May. Still, just because I finished the project didn't mean I didn't want to finish the story. I will refrain from giving story details here because I'm still not sure if I like Part 1, which could change the outcome of the rest of the story.
I started writing it after several scrapped attempts at other storylines sometime in October of last year. The idea is a combination of two pieces of inspiration, one from a couple years ago when running through potential story ideas in my head, and one while I was listening to the Air cd Talkie Walkie and let my imagination wander through a series of perfect images during the song "Universal Traveler." These images led to a quickly typed prologue which I decided I would build into my story. The only problem is that I wasn't really sure how to follow up the prologue, so I simply wrote nothing for quite a while. It wasn't until February that I actually began to write again. Sporadic bursts of writing culminated in a 25 page product to show to the judges of my project in early May. Still, just because I finished the project didn't mean I didn't want to finish the story. I will refrain from giving story details here because I'm still not sure if I like Part 1, which could change the outcome of the rest of the story.
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