(no subject)
ohhh, that 2008. what an interesting year, perhaps not what i would summarize as a "positive" one, but what the hell. today, the last day of it, was a day that may as well have summarized every day of it: against a backdrop of feelings both melancholy and tentative (regarding the latter: where am i going? what in blazes am i doing with my life? when my passport comes back, shall i just get the hell off this nutty continent?), great conversations and experiences comparable to a warm bubblebath ensued.
after a brief trip with b, certainly a girl i feel much fondness for, i met up with someone i rarely see (the only person named "allison" i know) for hot coffee and frenzied conversation. she's a good meter stick for what i ask for in a human being: receptiveness, good intellectual strength, keen interest in even the most contrary ideas, and firstly, positivity. whenever we chitchat (rarely), a lot of potentially neurotic issues are vivisected. mainly, the what-am-i-and-where-am-i-goings that trouble so many adults ("adult" is a word i find hard to associate with myself, considering most adults) to the point where all distressing confusion is lacquered over with pretenses of "responsibility" and "commitment" (in other words, grown-ups dive headfirst into jobs and careers they seek to help define themselves, with deliberate side-stepping of whether they're actually enjoying their lives --- show me a defensive careerist homeowner with 2.3 kids and i'll counter it with an amusedly grinning old punk). one solid, sad fact is this: how many people my age have i observed jump right into (a) college, (b) a degree, (c) job placement, and (d) the imminent rest of their lives? how many people remain bitter and dejected, with a straight line from here to a simpering deathbed weep, with pangs of "is this it?"....and how often does this arise from such simple fears, of appearing abnormal to one's peers, yet wanting to appear that one has the ability to make it on their own, with a flair for independence, even while committing to the same routines that come to define the rest of their graduating class? and in opposition, how many people know from instinct that there is a different road, infinitely difficult yet infinitely rewarding, provided one truly can "DIY" and rely on their intellectual strength? once again: their intellectual strength? it's the old path of boredom versus fear. i'm starving and often scared shitless, but that falls by the wayside when i experience the strange, fucked-up, ultimately STIMULATING things i do. some conversations, in other words, reveal another side to the coin. as it appears, it's the third side. this entry is just a summarization. it's meant to be disputed, preferably in real life, and assumedly with coffee. later that evening i met with tiffany (aaaaaaapop) at a bar, made with more chitchat and a bit of social lubrication, and on the street, ran into mike from the conformists. discussed a few new year's eve plans. seeing what might happen, and when.
musically, this year:
i've never, probably will never, stopped seeking out whatever slimy weirdness the genre of music has to throw at me. shows i've been to, quite memorable, include cutter, lovely little girls, panicsville, high castle, the brief corbeta corbata reunion, consumer electronics, wolf eyes, sightings, eugenics council, glenn branca and the symphony, and even ol' john wiese. personal album favorites, not all from this year:
SKAREKRAU RADIO. it's not so much personal bias, seeing as how the release featured a comic book of mine as a bonus booklet---i swear. the best i can tell anyone who hasn't witnessed their shows (due to the high volume of members, their shows are confined to the midwest, if not st. louis exclusively) is that they're no less than devastating, if not destructive. the new album, like the past several albums of theirs, is somehow well-representative of the SKR experience, even without the pubic hair and thick plumes of smoke. track them down, online if you must. their theory of shooting old people into space is worthy of further discourse.
RUDIMENTARY PENI: DEATH CHURCH. i think one large influence in 2007 was this art-damaged anarcho band's album tribute to h.p. lovecraft, "cacophony." this year i finally got around to scrutinizing their earlier album ('83), "death church." essentially an extension of their first EP (a wonderful 12-song 7" from '81), it's hardly as colorful as the very distressing "cacophony," instead concerned with expanding a language that stretches punk chords around a bass riff (the bass riff carrying the song, here) and keeping all expression minimal --- often, always really, focused on death. death. death. death. it's one of the better albums i've ever known, not just because i've so personally integrated its vocabulary, but because they're one of the best possible bands i can conceive of, freely creative and certainly challenging to any normal caricature of "punk rock" or the old crass commune. it's grotesque. probably wise. their new EP, which coincidentally came out this year, is titled NO MORE PAIN, and shows no deviation. the songs are concise to say the least, offer no electronics or overproduction, and there's an odd grasp of melody (something i'm rarely a fan of) that keeps the band at odds with anyone except a teensy fanbase. in addition to the death-haikus, there's a cover of pachelbel's canon in e, which sounds the same as everything else on the record. oddly, this year i've managed to discuss rudimentary peni with everyone from the writer peter sotos to philip best from whitehouse to john waters, with all having the exact same feelings. few bands, like other artists in other mediums, are so adept at retaining an independent vision, and expressing it to its utmost (read: divisive) fulfillment.
CORPSES AS BEDMATES: VENUS HANDCUFFS. on compact disc, the band is simply known as VENUS HANDCUFFS; the CD came out kinda recently. the album was recorded sometime back in the '80s, making it about as (or morseo) old as i am. it was recorded in an abandoned factory, which lends it a production value that actually stands out to me. production is often (and should be) equated with style, and "mere" aesthetics hardly gets me to love an album. that's why this one is so unique. the songs match their expression on disc. whatever the lyrics are, it's the expression of them and the way the (female) vocals trail off into some spacious (abandoned factory) world that defines this album. i'm not even sure why i like an album with choruses, or conventional song structure as, say, a 20th century musical theorist would define it.....usually i fall in love with something certainly abstract, usually grotesque. to paraphrase a number of folks, this is not about the pretty sounds, but the sounds inbetween. it's why some albums can be defined not by their songs, but by the segues, and why modern composers declare that it's not the musical piece, but the silence that follows. this album has a lot of silence, and analogue tape hiss, and odd sounds that shouldn't be there, and often mar the very songs. there are happy accidents. there are spontaneous, strange things happening among the droning chord changes and harmonies. certainly, it leaves an impression --- one akin to the factories i myself have dug, broken and snuck into, down to the rust on the ceilings.
after a brief trip with b, certainly a girl i feel much fondness for, i met up with someone i rarely see (the only person named "allison" i know) for hot coffee and frenzied conversation. she's a good meter stick for what i ask for in a human being: receptiveness, good intellectual strength, keen interest in even the most contrary ideas, and firstly, positivity. whenever we chitchat (rarely), a lot of potentially neurotic issues are vivisected. mainly, the what-am-i-and-where-am-i-goings that trouble so many adults ("adult" is a word i find hard to associate with myself, considering most adults) to the point where all distressing confusion is lacquered over with pretenses of "responsibility" and "commitment" (in other words, grown-ups dive headfirst into jobs and careers they seek to help define themselves, with deliberate side-stepping of whether they're actually enjoying their lives --- show me a defensive careerist homeowner with 2.3 kids and i'll counter it with an amusedly grinning old punk). one solid, sad fact is this: how many people my age have i observed jump right into (a) college, (b) a degree, (c) job placement, and (d) the imminent rest of their lives? how many people remain bitter and dejected, with a straight line from here to a simpering deathbed weep, with pangs of "is this it?"....and how often does this arise from such simple fears, of appearing abnormal to one's peers, yet wanting to appear that one has the ability to make it on their own, with a flair for independence, even while committing to the same routines that come to define the rest of their graduating class? and in opposition, how many people know from instinct that there is a different road, infinitely difficult yet infinitely rewarding, provided one truly can "DIY" and rely on their intellectual strength? once again: their intellectual strength? it's the old path of boredom versus fear. i'm starving and often scared shitless, but that falls by the wayside when i experience the strange, fucked-up, ultimately STIMULATING things i do. some conversations, in other words, reveal another side to the coin. as it appears, it's the third side. this entry is just a summarization. it's meant to be disputed, preferably in real life, and assumedly with coffee. later that evening i met with tiffany (aaaaaaapop) at a bar, made with more chitchat and a bit of social lubrication, and on the street, ran into mike from the conformists. discussed a few new year's eve plans. seeing what might happen, and when.
musically, this year:
i've never, probably will never, stopped seeking out whatever slimy weirdness the genre of music has to throw at me. shows i've been to, quite memorable, include cutter, lovely little girls, panicsville, high castle, the brief corbeta corbata reunion, consumer electronics, wolf eyes, sightings, eugenics council, glenn branca and the symphony, and even ol' john wiese. personal album favorites, not all from this year:
SKAREKRAU RADIO. it's not so much personal bias, seeing as how the release featured a comic book of mine as a bonus booklet---i swear. the best i can tell anyone who hasn't witnessed their shows (due to the high volume of members, their shows are confined to the midwest, if not st. louis exclusively) is that they're no less than devastating, if not destructive. the new album, like the past several albums of theirs, is somehow well-representative of the SKR experience, even without the pubic hair and thick plumes of smoke. track them down, online if you must. their theory of shooting old people into space is worthy of further discourse.
RUDIMENTARY PENI: DEATH CHURCH. i think one large influence in 2007 was this art-damaged anarcho band's album tribute to h.p. lovecraft, "cacophony." this year i finally got around to scrutinizing their earlier album ('83), "death church." essentially an extension of their first EP (a wonderful 12-song 7" from '81), it's hardly as colorful as the very distressing "cacophony," instead concerned with expanding a language that stretches punk chords around a bass riff (the bass riff carrying the song, here) and keeping all expression minimal --- often, always really, focused on death. death. death. death. it's one of the better albums i've ever known, not just because i've so personally integrated its vocabulary, but because they're one of the best possible bands i can conceive of, freely creative and certainly challenging to any normal caricature of "punk rock" or the old crass commune. it's grotesque. probably wise. their new EP, which coincidentally came out this year, is titled NO MORE PAIN, and shows no deviation. the songs are concise to say the least, offer no electronics or overproduction, and there's an odd grasp of melody (something i'm rarely a fan of) that keeps the band at odds with anyone except a teensy fanbase. in addition to the death-haikus, there's a cover of pachelbel's canon in e, which sounds the same as everything else on the record. oddly, this year i've managed to discuss rudimentary peni with everyone from the writer peter sotos to philip best from whitehouse to john waters, with all having the exact same feelings. few bands, like other artists in other mediums, are so adept at retaining an independent vision, and expressing it to its utmost (read: divisive) fulfillment.
CORPSES AS BEDMATES: VENUS HANDCUFFS. on compact disc, the band is simply known as VENUS HANDCUFFS; the CD came out kinda recently. the album was recorded sometime back in the '80s, making it about as (or morseo) old as i am. it was recorded in an abandoned factory, which lends it a production value that actually stands out to me. production is often (and should be) equated with style, and "mere" aesthetics hardly gets me to love an album. that's why this one is so unique. the songs match their expression on disc. whatever the lyrics are, it's the expression of them and the way the (female) vocals trail off into some spacious (abandoned factory) world that defines this album. i'm not even sure why i like an album with choruses, or conventional song structure as, say, a 20th century musical theorist would define it.....usually i fall in love with something certainly abstract, usually grotesque. to paraphrase a number of folks, this is not about the pretty sounds, but the sounds inbetween. it's why some albums can be defined not by their songs, but by the segues, and why modern composers declare that it's not the musical piece, but the silence that follows. this album has a lot of silence, and analogue tape hiss, and odd sounds that shouldn't be there, and often mar the very songs. there are happy accidents. there are spontaneous, strange things happening among the droning chord changes and harmonies. certainly, it leaves an impression --- one akin to the factories i myself have dug, broken and snuck into, down to the rust on the ceilings.