i pooped my pants
In regards to the music I've been listening to lately, well, often times it gets stagnant. I mean, it makes sense, especially since I can't afford to necessarily replenish my library with new, exciting, expensive tunes. But I wanted to discuss the last, oh, say, 12 months of my music experience.
Hands down, if I had to name an "album of the year" it would be Kid Cudi's Man on the Moon. The thing about Kid Cudi is that there is always an arch to his work. He has a plot in his records, a theme that ties it all together. It's not just 14 songs on a record called so and so. They are interrelated. There's a method to his madness if you will.
I think that may be the reason I love hip hop now. There's always something beneath the surface. There's always something you miss in the verses, the beats, whatever. (Although I suppose this isn't necessarily a genre thing- I could say the same thing about Weezer, or some other Alt. band, etc). But Kid Cudi just brings something so fresh to popular music (let me be clear- I use the term pop music very broadly- everything from Britney Spears to Tribe to Smashing Pumpkins to MGMT. If it doesn't struggle to reach a mass audience, it's probably safe to call it pop (at least in the context of this post)). It's hard to consider Cudi solely an Emcee. There's so much to his work, musically, stylistically, lyrically, metaphorically, whatever. This is especially apparent in his follow-up album where he does take on more of an Emcee role. But looking at this album, it blows me away. Instant classic. Definitely open to discussion in regards to genre: there's a lot of pop, R&B, hip-hop, alternative, it's all there. Collaborations with Kanye West and Ratatat. Just incredible.
The guy is pretty depressed. It's so apparent. His lyrics are often too straight forward and honest. Other times audacious and ego-inflating. There are so many layers. Instant classic.
Definitely my album of the year. Every time I spin it, I instantly go back to December when I got it. Hearing it on my ipod taking the bus back from Lincoln school. In the snow. The soundtrack to my long and cold journeys. I'm pretty nostalgic like that. Just about every record in my collection takes me back to a specific time, a specific mood, a specific feeling. Straight up indelible.
Let's shift our focus to literature. I want to be more all-encompassing here I suppose. Lets look at the books I've read, since about last October to today.
A Million Little Pieces, James Frey
The Good Earth, Pearl S Buck
The Giver, Lois Lowry
Breakfast of Champions, Vonnegut
Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller
As I Lay Dying, Faulkner
Aaaand currently Bright Shiny Morning, James Frey again.
I must admit, I wasn't tripping after Frey's whole Oprah controversy thing. Sooo he wrote a million little pieces as an autobiography, which wasn't entirely the case. It was very loosely based on his life, more fiction than anything.
Everyone shits their pants.
I don't care. It's the same words on the same page. I hope Christians wouldn't freak out, after taking the Bible literally for their lives, only to realize it's largely allegorical. It's still some of the most beautiful literature we have. Not to put the two on the same level, I just don't care. He has a very appealing style. It reads fast. Real page turners.
I'm losing luster here
Faulkner is absolutely amazing. I remember buying that book with Cory in Lakewood. I've kept it all this time waiting to read it, but I've been very apprehensive. Usually nothing that great comes out of the south, and his style has been said to be stream-of-consciousness (which it is, although not like Kerouac, and I would say more effectively) as well as filled with unreliable narrators. All of this is true, and in retrospect I'm wondering what I was tripping. One of the best books I've read. As a matter of fact, I just picked up another one of his works I plan on reading before summer eludes us. All of his work is based in the south, and it just makes sense to read it in the summer. Whatever. That time has come.
A dios.
Hands down, if I had to name an "album of the year" it would be Kid Cudi's Man on the Moon. The thing about Kid Cudi is that there is always an arch to his work. He has a plot in his records, a theme that ties it all together. It's not just 14 songs on a record called so and so. They are interrelated. There's a method to his madness if you will.
I think that may be the reason I love hip hop now. There's always something beneath the surface. There's always something you miss in the verses, the beats, whatever. (Although I suppose this isn't necessarily a genre thing- I could say the same thing about Weezer, or some other Alt. band, etc). But Kid Cudi just brings something so fresh to popular music (let me be clear- I use the term pop music very broadly- everything from Britney Spears to Tribe to Smashing Pumpkins to MGMT. If it doesn't struggle to reach a mass audience, it's probably safe to call it pop (at least in the context of this post)). It's hard to consider Cudi solely an Emcee. There's so much to his work, musically, stylistically, lyrically, metaphorically, whatever. This is especially apparent in his follow-up album where he does take on more of an Emcee role. But looking at this album, it blows me away. Instant classic. Definitely open to discussion in regards to genre: there's a lot of pop, R&B, hip-hop, alternative, it's all there. Collaborations with Kanye West and Ratatat. Just incredible.
The guy is pretty depressed. It's so apparent. His lyrics are often too straight forward and honest. Other times audacious and ego-inflating. There are so many layers. Instant classic.
Definitely my album of the year. Every time I spin it, I instantly go back to December when I got it. Hearing it on my ipod taking the bus back from Lincoln school. In the snow. The soundtrack to my long and cold journeys. I'm pretty nostalgic like that. Just about every record in my collection takes me back to a specific time, a specific mood, a specific feeling. Straight up indelible.
Let's shift our focus to literature. I want to be more all-encompassing here I suppose. Lets look at the books I've read, since about last October to today.
A Million Little Pieces, James Frey
The Good Earth, Pearl S Buck
The Giver, Lois Lowry
Breakfast of Champions, Vonnegut
Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller
As I Lay Dying, Faulkner
Aaaand currently Bright Shiny Morning, James Frey again.
I must admit, I wasn't tripping after Frey's whole Oprah controversy thing. Sooo he wrote a million little pieces as an autobiography, which wasn't entirely the case. It was very loosely based on his life, more fiction than anything.
Everyone shits their pants.
I don't care. It's the same words on the same page. I hope Christians wouldn't freak out, after taking the Bible literally for their lives, only to realize it's largely allegorical. It's still some of the most beautiful literature we have. Not to put the two on the same level, I just don't care. He has a very appealing style. It reads fast. Real page turners.
I'm losing luster here
Faulkner is absolutely amazing. I remember buying that book with Cory in Lakewood. I've kept it all this time waiting to read it, but I've been very apprehensive. Usually nothing that great comes out of the south, and his style has been said to be stream-of-consciousness (which it is, although not like Kerouac, and I would say more effectively) as well as filled with unreliable narrators. All of this is true, and in retrospect I'm wondering what I was tripping. One of the best books I've read. As a matter of fact, I just picked up another one of his works I plan on reading before summer eludes us. All of his work is based in the south, and it just makes sense to read it in the summer. Whatever. That time has come.
A dios.