So I'm going to see The Frames tonight. I'm drinking Hennessy now. Dan's celebrating his 18th birthday tonight. I just finished stock-take there now in Long's. I don't have to work again 'til Thursday. I have money. Is life sweet? Yes.
No one knows how I feel about Sufjan Stevens [except for Thom] 'cause I've never featured him on the blog, and now is not the time to get fully into it. But, to keep this short:
I love his music. It's incredibly lovely. I associate it with love, affection, tenderness, memories, hard decisions, moving on, changing scenery [remember that lake in Stirling? It was beautiful. The sun was out, it was a nice day. I think it started raining. No matter - the memory sifts through and selects the gems]. This is music for falling apart to but also for restoring your faith in whatever it is you believe in. I've connected with the music. Enough gayness.
The fact that he does/did/does? do shows in funny costumes? How do I feel about that? I'm not sure, since it adds a joky nature to the music which I've only had glimpses of but never really seen in all its undoubtedly brilliant glory. Like a flash of light. Like a blind spot on your vision. He is amazing. That's all... here's a track that Pitchfork featured. And then head over here to get another. The always fantastic Good Weather For Airstrikes did have two others, but the label requested their removal. Pity.
Sufjan Stevens
Dear Mr Supercomputer
I had typed up a post [didn't take long, four lines] where I explained I was going to post soon. Turns out I'd nothing better to do so soon equals now. How soon is now? [As Morrissey asked]... well for me, it's right now. But anyway, point of the story? I changed my mind when I saw that Think About Life were getting popular and I decided to get in on the game. I like the song "What the future might be" alot. Not too fussed on everything else I've heard so far, reminds me too much of The Unicorns [who I've seen hyped as the band that all cool people like now and liked before their dismemberment, but who I've never really seen as anything other than average. 'cause I'm boring I guess... or just haven't given them the time of day. I'm lazy like that] So anyway, I hope you like these tracks I'm going to post after I ramble - they're those songs you stick on at a party when you're drunk as hell and think a bit of madness might brighten up the room and stop everyone from taking so many breaths before they speak; intended to kick the party off again, or just make people laugh and joke and go "what the fuck's going on?". Pretty much.
So my thoughts on Think About Life's actual sound? A swarming mess of synths and keyboards, [and other instruments, of course] lo-fi production and vocals just thrown around the mix. Hailing from Montreal, perceived hip capital of the indie world, they were personally invited by Wolf Parade to be their support act during last year’s autumn tour. So they've got all the street-cred they'll ever need in the world... listen to them and their wacky brand of post-punk electronica hazy drunken chemically enhanced music.
Think About Life
Paul Cries
Serious Chords
Snowee Caterpillar
I think the artwork is stunning. The song "Paul Cries" reminds me of a Derry band called Farrago. A lot. Mainly 'cause of the ascending harmonising.
Edit [five minutes later]: I might retract my "not fussed" statement soon. 'cause I'm starting to really like "Paul Cries". Although it reeeeally reminds me of some other band as well. I wish I could work it out.
Here's something quick just to tide you over. See it's reaching midnight. And when it hits midnight a new day starts. And if a new day starts then I didn't post today. I'm trying to avoid incidents like this. When they happen they will happen in isolation. Anyway, like I say, just a quick one, tomorrow's will be all weird again I'd imagine. Most of it's in my head already from today's: feelings / moods / experiences / visions / sadness. So it's just a matter of finding the time and writing it up, dragging myself to wear the old heart on the old metaphorical sleeve [which probably won't happen since I like to talk in a cloudy haze of vague poetic imagery] and making it fit to whatever music I feature.
In order to play shows and go on tour as much as she could, Melanie Valera of Garrison Rocks, created a solo project: Tender Forever was born. “emotional pop” or “lo-fi R&B” are unusual definitions, but do not give the complexity of it at all. In the first place, Tender Forever is a girl performing alone with her DIY crafty sounds, a cardboard laptop, a very personal body language, tears, cut-outs, spasms…and more. Tender Forever also means countless people, feelings and emotions living through her music. Tender Forever plays guitar and calls you into play. Tender Forever sings, dances, gets stirred, excited, worn-out, falls on the floor and affects us. Tender Forever is something very, very fragile! And at the same time, it is a great ball of fire dragging along everything in its way, which might wake up intense things that are buried deep in each one of us...
Tender Forever
Then If I'm Weird
This song's a bit of a strange one to be honest, in that I'm not sure what to make of it. I think I like it. It seems kind of jokey but it's still fairly sad. Confused the old brain, to be honest. Although I'm featuring this song, it should be noted that there's a better one called, "Take it off", which I couldn't find hosted somewhere that wasn't a blog. Go search for it though. It's good. But still this post filled its purpose in that in gave you a fairly good song to listen to, some biographical information about an artist, and filled a gap. Think of this as a bridge. From one day to the next to the next to the next. A steady stream of information, updated daily [*note: preferably - not always though...] This is the Domino Effect in practice. You have to set them up to knock them down.
Set.
Up.
I'm tired. Not really. I'm just lazy. I think that's it anyway. My brain isn't quite functioning, right now, and I'm looking at a leaflet on Uni accomodation for next year. Freak out? Gettin' there. But I still have a couple of maths papers to do [sic: 'couple' denotes 'two'. The word 'five' does not denote 'two'] so there's still plenty of time for that. There shall be an onslaught of depression tonight, or boredom, I'm sure of it. So to get us in the mood let's listen to some Jens Lekman style stuff not by Jens Lekman. Oh, intrigued are we? Well, then, maybe you would actually like to listen to Jacob Borshard. He has two albums on the internet. Why? Beats me.
Hey, you, do you like free music?
I'm going to feel the static crackle, waiting for the hum to disappear, the mental lethargy to rumble slow-motion style into kinetic moments and I shall be back, like a bird, flying away and around and boomeranging back into place. Soon. Soon, I will return and finish this post. Where am I going? Outside to breathe freshly poisoned air [by my own hand, no less... clicky clicky on the lighter] and watch the sun descend.
I'm afraid to say that I know next to nothing about Jacob Borshard, as I discovered him on Catbirdseat and didn't really read, just downloaded [I'm playing catch-up, blog-wise, starting tonight over about two weeks worth on content on every blog... hmm...] What can I tell you then, to make you interested? Well, aside from the Jens Lekman comparison, there is also the fact that Catbirdseat described his music as "ukelele bedroom pop". And that I think it's good. So I think you should all listen. Closely too, for there are some very noteworthy lyrics in the mix. Like this:
I've been thinking all day about this dream I had where I never lost you
But the only mermaid that's flesh and blood is a bad tattoo
The stars are out and the moon is new; how long do I have to stand here praying?
from the song, Grass Stains.
Jacob Borshard
6,000,000 Dead Punks Can't Be Wrong
My Sweet Skyline
Grass Stains
Brains, Brains
Sarah
Music for those tired afternoons. Anyway, I boomeranged back into place, into shape, and then lost all hope. I've been grappling with the merits of actually doing this maths and I'm coming up short. Reasons against: I'm incompetent, it's too hard, i'm too lazy, it's boring, i'm fed up, it's pointless, pointless, pointless. Reasons for: teacher, oh el profesor, won't have a reason to lecture me. I won't have to avoid class. I think the reasons against are winning but I'm not too sure. Who knows? Well, basically... as far as this blog is concerned...
I'm back. Goodbye.
For a Sunday evening stroll that was really quite unusually eventful. The mass of people roaming the streets, seemed strange and incongruent - well, not really. I guess it's the nice, lovely, sunlit weather that brings them out in force, finding the opportunity to step outside and seizing their skins, Rizlas, or whatever brand is preferable and making and subsequently lighting up a joint - y'know, just to celebrate. And what are they all celebrating? The fact that they're not dead yet, I guess. Down to the shop and inside, grabbing what I want, paying and walking out. On the way back my synapses and nerve endings triggering to attention at the smell of dope - and I would experience a sweet rush of dopamine, if it wasn't for the negating thoughts of impending maths, crushing down on my skull - bypassing the guards that stand at The Pearly Gates, leading to my brain - and making my head a treasure chest of misery and incompetence.
Seeing blue carrier bags - off-license licensed - and pondering the virtue of my relatively long-term sobriety. Sentences cascading and falling, being constantly written and re-written, within my photographic memory. Syntax gets muddled, and confused, rephrased to make more or less sense depending on context and circumstance. A literary etch-a-sketch forever - for this moment only - transfixed in my mind, words losing meaning and taking shape when dragged begrudgingly, reluctantly out of their dictionary definitions and transposed to mean something else entirely, muddling irony with contradiction and paradoxes be damned.
Walking back from the shop and suddenly a child starts following like some sort of long abandoned puppy - Where do you live? - lingering on like a particularly noticeable perfume - Do you know me and my big brother? - a puppy that has just learned to bark - boo! - and taking the opportunity to inexplicably fire off statements disguised as inquisitions - Do you know you're much faster than me? - and taunts disguised as facts - Well, I'm faster when I run - criss-crossing across tripwires and inevitably further fragmenting my already fragmented brain - Why do you smoke? - before getting bored at my monosyllabic, disinterested replies and giving up the chase.
Well, what can I give you to help you understand this mildly amused, abstract, fragmented state-of-mind? The endless walking - a pacing of the room if indoors; walking up and then down the street pretending that I actually want something from the shop if outdoors. It all must add up to something, surely? Surely? Here's the closest I've come to describing it today, in the form of Beirut. I hope you enjoy them. Understanding is something. You can decide what. I'm off to the long put-off maths I've been going on about.
Beirut
Postcards From Italy
Mount Wroclai (Idle Days)
Interior of a Dutch house
Here's a short, extracted bio, courtesy of the site. Since I've done enough writing. You can tell I've been reading recently.
"While it may sound like an entire Balkan gypsy orchestra playing modern songs as mournful ballads and upbeat marches, Beirut's first album, Gulag Orkestar, is largely the work of one 19-year-old Albuquerque native, Zach Condon, with assistance by Jeremy Barnes (Neutral Milk Hotel, A Hawk and a Hacksaw) and Heather Trost (A Hawk and a Hacksaw). Horns, violins, cellos, ukuleles, mandolins, glockenspiels, drums, tambourines, congas, organs, pianos, clarinets and accordions (no guitars on this album!) all build and break the melodies under Condon's deep-voiced crooner vocals, swaying to the Eastern European beats like a drunken 12-member ensemble that has fallen in love with The Magnetic Fields, Talking Heads and Neutral Milk Hotel"
Listen to the songs and then shuffle, skip, dance, walk, walk, walk... keep walking. Can you hear your heartbeat within the percussion? Well, in the interior of a Dutch house, I can. The static is crackling, the room is upbeat and distracted and the music is pulsating from speaker to speaker, and it feels like you're in love. That is Beirut. Like it? Buy it.
*Note: all of this post is factual, with literary license. However, none of the italicised quotations from the kid are made up. They were all said, word for word.
