What I Have To Show For It

Remember when I started a blog?

I know, it's been a while. In fact, it's been a while since I wrote as regularly as I determined to when I set off into the "blogosphere" (who came up with that word? that word is ridiculous). In terms of "sorry", I do not regret the other things I have done in lieu of upkeep my poor little page. But I do apologize if you were waiting for something and it never came.

Here it is!

I've been very busy with my real writing project. It has swollen to enormous proportions since I grafted the original draft to the current draft. In fact, it's almost long enough to be classified as a novel. But there is still so much work to be done on it that I'm slightly staggered. So tonight I'm here, treading water, writing without actually drafting. That is how I tend to handle things by which I feel overwhelmed: do something- anything- else until you can't live with yourself unless you tackle your project. I read it a couple of passages out loud to some family and family friends while I was on vacation a few weeks ago, and it seemed to go over well. Maybe I'll take a page from  copy what my novelist friend Leri Lake did at the beginning of the year on her blog, and take a page from (nope, couldn't resist after all) my own manuscript to show you. Might be good luck.

I think I have a new working title. Well, subtitle really, and that leaves us with a novel in progress tentatively titled: The Book of John: The Battle Hymn.

I can't stop thinking about it. I'm trying to see the end before I think about the aftermath. It's so important for me to do this one thing that all other things are on hold until I get it finished. My routine is so precarious- every day feels like all-or-nothing. Either I hit all the marks I wanted to: exercise, dinner, writing, time with Bryson, or I totally surrender and watch Netflix on my iPad all evening. But everywhere I turn I'm reminded of what I should be doing. Like now, with Spotify on while I scrape for anything else to muse about with you, all I want to hear is my soundtrack playlists.

Aren't you glad you tuned in for this?

I am. It means a lot that you're here. It means a lot that you are still listening, still waiting. I'm grateful.

In fact... here. Here's a scene that might possibly (anything could go on the chopping block come the third revision, but I like how this goes for now) be found near the beginning of the book. Lucy, my protagonist, is on her way to join her friends, including her boyfriend Earl, at band practice when a stranger stops her to ask a few questions and then says something that really gets her attention:

[H]is eyes met mine again. “You’re a special sort, I can tell, my dear. Be aware of what truly defines you, in this cacophonous world. Other people will try to substitute their image for yours. Don’t let them.”

At this point my latent weird-ometer began to read positive, so I smiled and told him well, thank you for that thought, you have a nice day now. He gave me a smile. It was like a baby’s smile, absolutely pure and fond and full of goodwill. He gave a short bow, thanked me for my time, and we mutually turned from each other.

Then, I thought I heard him say “Good luck, Lucy.”

“I’m sorry-?” I began as I turned once more.

But he was gone. I mean, gone. My stomach dropped a little and my skin prickled. I must have imagined… what? That a stranger had said my name? That a stranger had been talking to me a moment ago, and then vanished?

My cell phone vibrated. I pulled it from my back pocket. It was Earl. I picked up.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he replied accordingly. “Are you on your way?”

“Yeah,” I said, still a little dazed. “Just stopped for a minute to get a snack. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Okay. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You sound a little… I dunno, not alright?”

With the phone to my ear, I shook my head and blinked several times, hard. “I’m fine. I just- something weird just happened. I think. I’m not actually sure. If it’s still bothering me by the time practice gets over, we can talk about it.”

...By the time I got to the Jukebox, I had forgotten most of the details of the incident. I knew there was a man but I couldn’t say what he looked like. I knew he'd asked how to get to the church, and that I told him. And that was all I remembered about it for a long, long time.

There, what do you think? 

No? Not enough? Okay, you glutton. I'll throw ya one more bone. 

Dad asked me to find him three songs that would take you to heaven or raise hell played in tip-top stereo sound in the great big musical box that used to be the truck I drove to school. Here ya go (warning, they will sound considerably less epic on your computer speakers):

Old School:

1) "Second Home By the Sea" by Genesis

2) "2112 Overture/The Temples of Syrinx" by Rush

3) "When the Levee Breaks" by Led Zeppelin 

OR 3) "'Heroes'" by David Bowie (duh)

New School (AKA The Ones Dad Might Not Like, But I'd Love To Hear Them Properly):
1) "Get Lucky" by Daft Punk (yes, really)
2) "'Til The End" by Yann Tiersen
3) "Aya" by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

"I have no time for your cynic's mind": Mumford & Sons (Concert Post)

So, how was Mumford and Sons round two?

Everybody who's known me longer than a year or two (or knows me really well) knows I saw Mumford and Sons in 2011 when they last came to Arizona, for their Railroad Revival Tour. It was one of the best concert experiences I have ever had, although about 90% of the rest of the attendees would disagree. I got lucky and wriggled to the front long before the Gentlemen of the Road took the stage- I'm not one of those jerks who lunge through the crowd at the last minute, drunk and/or toting a girlfriend who whined about not being able to see. (Obviously I wouldn't be toting a girlfriend in any condition, but you know the front-row usurpers I mean.) Short people  single girls have it easy at general admission shows. Look up (way up) from under your lashes at just the right tall wifebeater-clad bro guys and you practically part the red sea, because you take up so little space that nobody minds if you stand in front of them, and they like to feel gallant. Mumford & Sons held their last Arizona show in a parking lot between some apartment complexes and the railroad tracks- and they probably oversold it just a little. I hear the people in the latter half couldn't see a darned thing.

But I was there, all by myself, and by the time the first two acts- the fabulous Old Crow Medicine Show and the breathtaking Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros- finished, I was about three or four "rows" back. Alex from ESMZ even hopped over the fence to fraternize with us and I gave him something like a slow motion rapturous high-five. (Side note, I still don't listen to Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros very much but they blew my mind with their live show.) We'd been standing for at least three hours by the time Mumford & Sons took the stage but the moment they did, a kind of euphoria swept the crowd. 

They were a much younger band, then. I know it was only two years, but it makes a big difference in band years. Musically speaking, they were not so good as they were on Wednesday, I think. Not that they were bad, mind. Not even close to bad. But I was still in shock of the Edward Sharpe business and the thought crossed my mind that they were good in concert, but not maybe great. But the spirit of the audience rose and rose, and we sang along, every word we knew. In fact, so many voices joined in the singing that more than once the audience drowned out the band. Yes. Just like how it happened according to Beatles lore, with screaming overpowering the amplifiers, only this audience was singing. 

A girl a few paces from me actually cried. I watched her passionately beat her fists in the air and bawl out the lyrics to "Winter Winds" as tears fell from her eyes. I've never seen that before.

Nor have I ever seen, before or since (although this is very circumstantial), how a crowd of people actually formed on the rooftops of the aforementioned apartments throughout the night. It gave one a feeling of being completely and utterly surrounded by music lovers, and that can really go a long way to connecting you to the music. 

The boys debuted "Lover's Eyes" that night, which would appear on Babel and it was so wonderful I paused to make a note of the lyrics. "Lord, forget all of my sins/Or let me die where I lie/Beneath the curse of my lover's eyes." Quintessential Mumford. Ok, so they never deviate from their favorite rhyme scheme. Ok, so sometimes they wax a little cheesy. But the lyrics (and the banjo/mandolin usage, and the fact that Marcus plays the drums and sings at the same time) are my favorite part of the Mumford and Sons act. I love, and always have loved, the way they capture what you might call big little moments. 

I've read criticism of Babel that complained that it was still playing the same everyman archtype- an average man's interactions with God and love, more melodramatic than momentous- that Sigh No More did. I think that if you've ever felt how big small moments can be, you know how much they resonate. Some people do not understand how strong such a frail thing as faith can feel, when you exercise it. That is what M&S's more spiritual songs make me think of: that moment when you discover, or rediscover, the power of small and simple truths. I can't even tell you how it felt, in my personal experience, to have left a bishop's office with a temple recommend in my hand after several years without. But the boys captured it to a degree when they wrote "The Cave". To most people, it was a little moment. To me, it was huge, swelling: "'Cos I need freedom now/and I need to know how/to live my life as it's meant to be." Mumford & Sons is, to me, the soundtrack to both struggles and, more importantly, second chances.

Anyway, the best part of the entire evening in April 2011, the night before my epistemology final, was the very end, when everyone on the train- all three bands, families, crew, everyone- got onstage together to sing a couple of songs, including "This Train Is Bound for Glory" by Woody Guthrie. The song lasted about eight minutes and it blew my mind. It was so genuine. Even the children up there with their parents were singing and wriggling with camaraderie. This, I remember thinking, was how music should always feel. Like being together joyfully with your loved ones. Oh, and the bearded, strumming ghosts of the folk singers who came before you. 

There was no such grand finale to the show on Wednesday. But that was ok- after a dynamite closing number ("Dust Bowl Dance") the encore was 2/3 acoustic (an intimate cover of "I'm on Fire" by Springsteen, & "Reminder", plus a full-throttle rendition of "The Cave"). I wasn't in the front- I was in the back, on the lawn, where the dust and grass and marijuana smoke were tickling my allergies. But that was ok too- I was with my irrepressible husband, and my friend Caitlin and her sister Tory. The unified crowd did not overpower the band this time. But that was ok too- it let their musicianship really show through, and I was proud that they, like me, had grown into themselves since the first time we met. I still thrilled and my heart felt full to bursting. What more could you ask from a band, or from a show, than to be sorry when it's over? 

In answer to your question, the second time was still really awesome. But I'm glad I've seen them twice.

If you've never heard Mumford & Sons (where have you been?) here's my favorite picks, even though they only have 2 albums and an EP or two's worth of material available. No Time For Cynics is the name of the Spotify playlist, and these are the tracks:

For Your Playlist: Side A

1. "I Will Wait" from Babel (I was disappointed with it as a single but it grew on me in a big way)

2. "The Cave" from Sigh No More

3. "Roll Away Your Stone" from Sigh No More

4. "Below My Feet" from Babel (My favorite)

5. "Dust Bowl Dance" from Sigh No More 

For Your Playlist: Side B

1. "Awake, My Soul" from Sigh No More 

2. "Lover's Eyes" from Babel

3. "Not With Haste" from Babel

4. "Devil's Spoke/Sneh Ko Marg" from the Dharohar Project EP with Laura Marling, & Dharohar Project

I actually wanted to make it "To Darkness" which is the early version of what became "Broken Crown" on Babel but Spotify's copy is missing the last half of the song... :(

Bonus tracks:

5. "Janglin'" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

6. "James River Blues" by the Old Crow Medicine Show

7. "I Will Wait" cover by Gavin Mikhail

Covers are a good way to tell if you like the song itself- more on that in another post. I thought this was a beautiful cover of a beautiful song.

My prince & me, 6 months 

"Now you can have butterfly shoes AND go to Mumford & Sons."

Turn That Darned Thing Down, Part Two: Filler Tracks

Yes, this is a filler post. Another one. You can always tell the filler tracks. These are different from the excellent tracks that couldn't fly on the radio. These are the songs nobody plays live if there is enough material to go without them. Sometimes it means they're trying to keep you interested just long enough to get to something really great, and it can be better than nothing.

I'm flinging you filler because I'm working on something really great, when I'm writing and not writing blog posts. It's a story several years in the formation and I'm trying to make this year MY YEAR, the one in which I finally wrestle the sprawling story out and make it into something beautiful. Since starting writing here, it's been rather as though I think somehow that this, spitting out a few hundred words every week here in cyberspace, is going to get that story written. It won't. It helps. But the bottom line is that no amount of blogging is going to write my novel. Not this one, anyway.

So tonight, even though I owe you a post (or two?! time flies) I am going to have to insert a filler track while I tackle the bigger project. I'd like to mention that you can get a taste of said project by visiting the playlists I call The Book of John on my Spotify page. But that's all I will say about it right now.

If that isn't a great demonstration of what it's like to get a filler track when you're listening to an album that's otherwise pretty solid, here are a few more examples (and, as my sister and I determined years ago, they are debatable). I've called the list Polyfil after the coarse polyester mock cloud that I put in stuffed animals. It's cheap and hypoallergenic, like filler tracks.

For Your Playlist: Side C
1. "Andy, You're A Star" by the Killers
Yes, I love the Killers. And not everybody debates the merits of this song, as evidenced by the kind of cool bluegrass cover attached to the end of the playlist.

2. "Slow Down" by Ozzy Osbourne
Albums in the Eighties, especially by metal bands, are absolutely rife with filler. In fact, it may be argued, that in the Eighties, especially from some metal bands, you got entire albums made of filler. (Alice Cooper, I am looking at you. Lovingly.) Just goes to show you, it's important to try to stay relevant.

3. "Valle Mistico (Ruben Song)" by Conor Oberst
I'm sure Conor Oberst himself wouldn't consider this filler. I'm sure to him it has some higher purpose. All I hear is three inept horn blasts.

4. "Swollen Summer" by The Bravery
... I wouldn't underscore such lyrical brilliance as "Feels like a swollen summer, feel like I'm getting dumber" by making it the chorus of a song I was working hard on.

5. "Riding on the Wind" by Judas Priest
It's easy to pick on the Eighties metal. And I love Judas Priest, and Ozzy Osbourne, and Alice Cooper. But Screaming for Vengeance was such a sweet album and this is the track that struck a false note, to me. Formulaic, and hypermasculine. Le sigh.

6. Any song besides this one on the album it came from, which was 1987's Whenever You Need Somebody
See what I did there?

Until next time, turn it up to eleven. There IS some good stuff around the corner, so stay tuned.

Getting Lucky

Facebook already knows this, but last week my Prince Genuine, AKA Bryson, set his mind to it and got us tickets to the Mumford & Sons gig in June. That is to say, he called a radio station 26 times to become Caller Number 8 and thereby score a couple of tickets. What a stud! He told the DJ, "My wife will be so happy!"

I am so happy. We had just been talking the night before about how, as much as we would like to go, neither of us were comfortable spending so much on one evening's entertainment. I told him wistfully that I would rather have Mumford & Sons tickets than butterfly shoes. But I understood if it couldn't happen.

Well, he wasn't about to give up without a fight. We got lucky this time.

More than lucky, I feel blessed to have a man who takes time out of his day (especially these busy days with precious little time) to make me happy. Blessed to be married to a man to whom I am not just "enough", but "everything".

On the one hand, I went through a ton of frogs (and toads, and newts, for that matter) before I found my Prince Genuine. You might say that he is a reward for persevering. On the other, if you know me in person, you may know that I seemed to deliberately seek frogs and toads and newts, so any misery I experienced as a result was self-inflicted. Then you might say he's a reward for breaking the routine of looking for a mate in the swamp. Either way, he is a reward, and reward means BLESSING.

I hope I never forget, even for a day, or for a moment, that he is a great blessing to me, warts and all. :)

He hasn't been to that many concerts. Mumford & Sons will be our second together. I am pretty stoked about that. I hope it's as great a show as the one in 2011.

His birthday is coming up at the end of the month. What do you get the man who called from the parking garage at work to say "I won us the tickets to Mumford & Sons; I guess you get your butterfly shoes after all"?

If you are looking for a new original playlist tonight, you should go to my blog-friend Jen's page, where I am guest-posting (thanks for the opportunity!!) this evening while she is on "maternity leave." (Personally I suspect the baby is waiting to be born so I can finish the toy I am making for her- she's a few days overdue.) Or you can skip to the nursery-themed list Babycakes.

If, however, you want to hear the happiest thoughts I had in 2009, I have drafted a slightly-revised (track 1 & 7) version of an enduring mix I made on this day that year. It was a really hard year in many ways, but Stir-Fry and Cult Films (April 2009) was one of the easy days: laboring over a clumsy stir-fry supper, talking about music and midnight movies (most especially Harold & Maude) with a new friend. I still listen to this mix. it's one of the rare occasions when I think I got just the right balance and just the right mood, with only the positive memories framed in it. Enjoy!





- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

The Next Day Revisited

David Bowie sat on the passenger's side and the two of us reveled in his latest album all the way home and then some. It finally arrived, you see. A solid three weeks of extra waiting was well worth it.

I think I waited because it would mean just a little more. If The Next Day ended up being his real final album, for some reason (and anything seems possible now), I would want it to be the one I bought fresh off the presses, as it were. (Which cliche led me to a quick YouTube education in how a vinyl record is made. It's pretty cool.) In that way, I feel like I have participated in my favorite artist's legacy just like his first fans, people who were teenagers before my own father was born, did. I went down to the record store the day it came out, with all my heart and all my change, and bought the big beautiful double vinyl with my name on it to mark it as a pre-order. David Sedaris mentions in his story "The Smoking Section" that if he'd had his way as a kid, his room would have smelled like a newly-unwrapped vinyl records: "that is to say, like anticipation." Bearing this in mind, when I got back to the car, I slit the plastic wrap and put my nose close and breathed deeply... yup, that's anticipation. That's Charlie Bucket using every other sensory organ to enjoy his yearly chocolate bar before giving it over to his taste buds.

It came with a CD version, which was pretty nice. And so it was that the big beautiful double vinyl with a large white square over Bowie's 1979 face, rode a contented shotgun to me as we wheeled around the neighborhood. The music on the record sang vicariously through the digital incarnation, louder than my gruff diesel engine. And this is how it went:

1. "The Next Day"
blasts fearlessly, charging, stomping. I love how the words you hear the most clearly at first are "Listen" and "Here I am". This is a great opening track. But it doesn't make sense as a single. (Basically none of them do.)

2. "Dirty Boys"
versed in burlesque horns, choruses with more melody. Couplet-rhymed verses. Parallel-structured chorus. Half sleazy and half hopeful. Another song that I'm increasingly loving with every listen.

3. "The Stars (Are Out Tonight)"
makes sense now. Somehow, contextually, this song packs a fiercer punch. Sounds darker, more desperate, more cynical. Also I notice for the first time with a chill the line "but they know just what we do when we toss and turn at night". Ew. That's actually a really creepy thought.

4. "Love Is Lost"
smolders. This is the point where I turn it up a little to snuggle deeper into the music. The second verse mystifies me, but it's the rising finish that gets me. The repeated chorus: "What have you done? O what have you done?"

5. "Where Are We Now?"
has also found power it lacked before in context. After the intensity of the previous track, the softer vocals feel balmy. This is still not the strongest track of the bunch but it works so much better alongside its fellows.

6. "Valentine's Day"
sounds much better the second listen-through. One of the most obvious allusions to real life social events, this song chronicles a high school gunman. The guitar on this one sounds lush and conversational to me, somewhat incongruous with the dark lyrics.

7. "If You Can See Me"
was labeled by another reviewer as "interesting but un-listenable". I disagree. It is almost tuneless and the vocals skitter without range. But the lyrics are really fascinating. The result is a kind of discordant, urgent tangle not unlike some parts of Earthling's "Dead Man Walking", with what might be a slam poet's rant for lyrics. Honestly, I like it.

8. "I'd Rather Be High"
sounds as psychedelic as the title might imply, melodically. Initially I was not that stoked about it, but it's rapidly growing on me, and I love this: "I stumble to the graveyard and I lay down by parents, whisper 'Just remember, duckies, everybody gets got.'"

9. "Boss of Me"
swings, lazily but resolutely. It reminds me of "I've Been Waiting for You", the Neil Young cover on Heathen only more... Bowie. I dunno. I like this song more each time I hear it, too, but I'm still figuring it out.

10. "Dancing Out in Space"
has a beautiful melody. Yearning, but not sluggish. The rhythm of the vocals in the chorus contrasts sharply with that of the verses, rather like in "Dirty Boys" and I think it's a good effect in both cases. If I picked one word out as David Bowie's favorite, it's "star" or "stars" and this song with its astral setting and mood doesn't deviate.

11. "How Does the Grass Grow?"
remains sort of inaccessible to me. This is the only track I can say I like about as much as I did the first time, when everything was a happy wash and only a few things stood out in bolded caps. This isn't one of them.

12. "(You Will) Set the World on Fire"
... no words. Just a huge smile on my face and my heart skips a beat. This is what the kitschy song "New York's in Love" from Never Let Me Down meant to be. "I can hear the nation, I can hear the nation cry..." I'm adopting this as my secret theme song. (Don't judge me. You know you have one.)

13. "You Feel So Lonely You Could Die"
takes the mood abruptly very low. Might check the liner notes to make sure this wasn't penned by Morrissey. And yet, is that a little bit of snark I'm detecting? Can't quite tell if he's joking with me yet, with the melodramatic title and doo-wop ooohing and ahhhing. I confess, I can't spend much time on this song because the next one blows my mind.

14. "Heat"
closes the album with a slow, ominous heartbeat. At once I am reminded of Heathen and Outside and yet, it would be out of place on either one of these. Brooding. Haunting. Dark. But beautiful, especially when the violins start in as the pressure builds. The fact that there are bonus tracks is almost disappointing because I'd be glad to let the phrase "my father ran the prison" echo in my brain for a while.

Bonus tracks:
15. "So She" -charming and kind of cartoony. I can tell why this is an outtake or bonus. This isn't what we've just been hearing. A cousin, maybe, but not a first cousin.
16. "Plan"- instrumental echoing the mood of "Heat", which isn't a bad thing. Like other reviewers I felt this one suffered from being too short!
17. "I'll Take You There"- See, now this one sounds like a single to me. Politically-charged much? Yes. Unless my powers of interpretation are radically failing me, it's about illegal immigration, from the immigrant's perspective. But it's punchy and appealing. I'm not sure why this one didn't make the regular track cut. The smoky lyrical mood and fierce music fit with the rest, in my opinion.

So. Now it's been a few weeks and a few listens. The shock and thrill of a broken silence is abated (a little ^_^) and you know what I think? I think it's a great album. I think it's better, richer, than Reality and more realized than Heathen, both of which I love. It reminds me of my favorite album, Lodger, with its varied musical influences plain as genetics on a face. It reminds me of Scary Monsters because it has so much to say and it will take a long time to digest all of it. Most of all, I love it because it's classic Bowie. To explain further, I'd probably need to be able to play an instrument. But if, by chance, you are a Bowie fan too, then I wouldn't have to explain. We could just look at each other and go "I knooooowwww...."

You can listen to the album in full on Spotify, of course. I won't bother linking to it. You know where to find it. And you should find it. Tell me what you think, especially if you are predisposed to liking/loving Bowie.