put 1 and 1 together

I am definitely feeling my twentysomething-what-should-I-do-with-my-life-why-is-the-sky-blue? apathy and existential angst today. I had an opportunity to buy some excellent, colorful shoes yesterday and didn't thanks to a bout of conflict with consumerism culture, and now I wish I had those shoes instead of the moral high ground; it's sleeting outside and man, Utah, if I wanted precipitation I would've stayed in Portland.

I made a mix of songs to combat weekend morning malaises. Anti-malaise music, if you will.

1. Wonderlust King - Gogol Bordello
2. Better Weather - Kimya Dawson
3. South America - Shoutout Louds
4. That Great Love Sound - The Raveonettes
5. Guerilla Funk - Paris
6. My Sweet Lord - Nina Simone

Grab the whole thing here.

one last thought to fruition

Another of the albums I bought last week at Graywhale. Perhaps I will finally process them all by the time I'm 60.

Against Me!, Searching For A Former Clarity

I've been vaguely curious about this band for a while, but I admit, when I bought the album it was because it was cheap and used and I just sort of felt like it. I was not at all expecting to fall in love the way I have, to obsess over individual songs and listen to it straight through then on shuffle then straight through again (and again and again). It's given me that wow, this is for me epiphany; it's a funny thing, when music convinces part of you that--no matter how impossible it may be--it was written solely about your experiences and the way you see the world. I'm always wondering what it is about music that does this, how some songs achieve universality by convincing each individual that it's all about them.

I suppose my surprise at loving this album so much comes from the preconceptions I definitely had about what I imagined the band to sound like. I am (sometimes unfairly) skeptical about punk as a subculture and fashion statement, so when I see Against Me! patches smugly worn on people who've also covered their whole body in The Misfits' logo, it turns me off and I think it's probably not music I'll enjoy. I'd heard the brilliant 'Baby, I'm An Anarchist' before, which told me that the band might have some of the same issues with anarchists that I do, but still--I just knew too many punks that didn't realize the song was a parody.

But this album is quite far away from the classic hardcore punk that almost never grabs my imagination. The music slick and intricate, with each song contributing towards a cohesive whole but still standing out on its own. It's got driving bass lines and choruses that are sometimes catchy, sometimes harsh and growling, sometimes funky; you can hear all the influences, from bluegrass (the acoustic guitar that frames 'How Low' could introduce a classic moody country song) to punk to classic rock. There's so much variety here, from the soft and simple 'Joy' to the sarcasti-caustic snarl of 'Miami'. It rocks out and then screams and then makes you dance and smile, offering something to appeal to just about every aspect of my music taste.

The lyrical content is largely political, but there's also personal insecurity; the album title Searching For A Former Clarity is spot-on. In most of the songs there's a definite sense of yearning and searching and just not being sure about the way things are now, and you can tell it's made by a band that's on the verge of making it big and has to grapple with the questions that entails. The lyrics Come on now, how long do think this is really gonna last?/How long can you hold their attention before they move on to the next band? are from a song they titled 'Unprotected Sex With Multiple Partners,' which could easily be interpreted as being about themselves. 'Don't Lose Touch' is sneeringly critical of liberals who are no longer authentic while also criticizing themselves. But the last song on the album, 'Searching For A Former Clarity,' is where the band really digs into their deepest subject material. The song meanders through lyrics that are nostalgic, wistful, sad and final, with no clear choruses or verses, just a slow build. Tom Gabel's voice sounds different here, too, more clear and less growling, finally vulnerable at the end of the whole CD.

Aside from 'Searching For...,' my high points include every note of the epic 'Justin' (seriously, I can't take this fucking song off repeat), the Bowie-like belted choruses to 'Don't Lose Touch,' and the heartsick first few lines of 'Even At Our Worst We're Still Better Than Most.'

Justin -Against Me!
Joy -Against Me!
Miami -Against Me!

The Loved Ones on 3/25

The Loved Ones played with Cobra Skulls and Flatliners at Kilby Court, which is one of the most entertaining spots in the city for me. It's a garage that could maybe fit two cars in a pinch, tucked at the end of an alleyway with an outside area that holds a fire pit with chairs and benches arranged around it. There's a sign on the ticket booth that says "NO MOSHING! sorry brutal dudes!", and most of the walls are covered in band stickers or posters for upcoming shows. There's another run-down tiny building with a table for merch, and across the alley there's one of the grossest venue bathrooms I've seen yet and dingy rooms that have "Bands only!" scribbled on the doors. I've only been to two shows there, and each time the microphones have been barely functional--for this show, most of the bandmembers wrapped bandanas around the mics to keep their lips from getting shocked. I try to support its existence whenever I can.

It's probably quite the feat if you manage not to connect with the audience in a venue so small, and every band that played had fun with us. While I enjoy the physicality that comes with punk shows, on a musical level I can rarely get into classic, old-school hardcore punk. The material starts sounding the same to me after a few songs, and I start itching for something with more melody and less monotonous screaming.

But Cobra Skulls kept a punk sound and still let themselves show off musically, throwing out skillful bass lines and interesting rhythms, and they never bored me. They added rockabilly and ska elements and plenty of wit, playing songs about Ted Haggard and, my favorite, a song in Spanish about Che Guevera t-shirts in strip malls. Flatliners had more classic thrash, their vocalist more of a screamer and their music a little simpler, but they were still a solid band that put on an extreme and enthusiastic show. The frontman broke a guitar string and his guitar strap in the first song, and their momentum just kept building. It's not necessarily music that I'd seek out on my own, but they were great performers and hooked me in for their whole set.

I bought The Loved Ones' Build & Burn shortly after it came out, a little over a month ago. It immediately became one of my favorite recent albums, and I'm always surprised that more people don't know about it. It's pop-punk with Americana and emo influences that isn't afraid to stretch all kinds of musical boundaries, with hopeful and catchy melodies that worked their way quickly inside my heart and a sound that's wholly their own.

They played with so much fucking charm. Dave Hause's voice was scratchier, a lot more raw than it was on the album but still retaining the fullness (combined with just the slightest emo whine) that grabbed me. He had so much fun with the audience, with banter topics ranging from Applebee's to rating which of the opening bands was more buff to upcoming punk shows in SLC to making gentle fun of NOFX. Their newest album is full of slick guitar lines cleverly laid over each other, and their live show definitely emphasized that--the riffs and shredding that begin 'The Bridge' was one of the highest points of the show for me. They also knew how to take full advantage of all the contrasts they've created on the album, such as the intro to 'Selfish Masquerade.' They're an older, experienced band, and the show was perfectly executed but still full of warmth.

The Loved Ones finished their set off with what is probably my favorite song off Build & Burn, 'Louisiana.' It's an ideal song to finish off a set, with a subdued, building intro that explodes into a pounding song with euphoric shredding, a tense excited bridge that echoes the intro, and lyrics that demand shouting along, not to mention a powerful message about Hurricane Katrina. They pulled off the big finish with flourishes and gusto, and ensured that their audience left the garage with bared-teeth grins and their hearts beating louder.

But beyond just playing well live, they made my night better in a different way when they launched into a rant in defense of their female fans and women in general. "Apparently we're not punk?" Hause joked as they recounted an incident with some other punk rockers. 'Whatever happened to punk rock?' was the sulky response they'd received when speaking up against the punks for misogynist speech. Hause went on to earnestly emphasize the importance of respect to women, asking his female fans to tell sexist assholes to fuck off.

They didn't say anything new or groundbreaking, but I wish it were less rare to hear rants like this from male musicians. The music industry is still weighed down by misogyny, and it seems like everywhere I look there's a musical subculture that wants to reject the mainstream, but has held onto mainstream misogyny. It's going to take proactivity to change the ugly concept that if you let too many women into your music scene, it will somehow become inauthentic and worthless. The music I love doesn't always fit in perfectly with my personal politics, and I'm fiercely protective of that combo when I do find it. I have a feeling my devotion to The Loved Ones will last a good long while now.


Louisiana - The Loved Ones
The Bridge - The Loved Ones

Explosions In The Sky on 3/24

Monday night I went to see Explosions In The Sky play with Lichens at In The Venue, and as usual, the venue's organization left so much to be desired. At the past few shows I've seen there, In The Venue's line management has resembled some kind of absurdist concept art more than a tool to get people into the venue as efficiently as possible. My friend and I waited outside for probably an hour and a half after doors were set to open. But the club still remains one of my favorite spots in SLC, probably because I've been there so many times that it feels like a second home at this point.

The opener was Lichens, aka Robert Lowe. He began by recording a loop of vocals reminiscent of bird and wind sounds, and he took his time before layering anything else over it. The audience wasn't quite sure what to make of something so quiet and foreign, so the murmuring and chatting never stopped. But the human buzz seemed to add rather than detract to what Lichens was doing, as if it was just another musical layer he was working with.

The guitar layers and distortion that came next reminded me of Ravi Shankar and other sitar recordings--very meandering, very atmospheric, and very not-western. The vocals were both weird and lovely, and Lichens was clearly a talented and innovative musician. But his whole set was one song, and I think I probably would have appreciated what he was doing more if it hadn't been live. It was serene and beautiful, but that can't hold my attention forever at a show, and unfortunately after a while I was paying more attention to how much my feet hurt than I was to Lichens onstage.

It was kind of odd to see Explosions In the Sky take the stage and discover that, oh, they're just four dudes with guitars and a drum set, like any other band. Their music is so expansive that part of me was expecting a full orchestra. But then it was "Hi, we're Explosions In the Sky from Texas" (the only stage decoration was a small Texas flag, and I will always be a sucker for art that retains a strong sense of place) and their signature cherubic guitar lines began, and any illusion that they could be any other band evaporated.

Explosions play for corporeality, both theirs and the audience's. The guitarists and bassist moved with a kind of synchronized swaying that intensified as the songs built from their mellow beginnings, and crescendoed in manic, full-body pounding at various climaxes in the set. I have to say, I really never expected to see this band rocking out so hard, their arms swinging and jerking, more reminiscent of hammering than strumming a guitar. There was plenty of playing while on their knees as well, and one of the guitarists danced across the stage to drum with a second pair of sticks, adding even more urgency. One of my biggest motivations for seeing live music is that there's little to compare to seeing and feeling it when a musician is utterly wrapped up in their performance, and Explosions took that to a degree that swamped the audience.

And while it may be cliché to say of a band that "the music just gets inside you, man," for the duration of the set, this band's output became another system in my flesh, like the nervous or respiratory. They never betrayed this body trust; the softer guitar lines acted as a promise not to drop and break me during their biggest tidal waves.

It's difficult for me to identify what highlights happened during which songs because they never stopped between songs, choosing instead to play straight through and blend the set together. The audience couldn't clap or cheer much without the sound drowning out the next song the band would already be starting. The overall effect meant the experience was more like seeing a symphony than seeing a rock band, meant that I was awed and gratified by the band's work in its entirety rather than listening specifically for familiar melodies and band banter. Obviously I like listening to band banter and recognizing my favorite songs live, or I wouldn't go to shows, but this way of playing was the perfect and only choice for this band.

I did pinpoint Your Hand In Mine, which happens to be the theme song of the TV show Friday Night Lights. Explosions clearly savored the song, stretching out those first few measures before finally giving us the addition of the drums. There's always something special when a band gives the audience the song people clearly want most, a sense of satisfaction and triumph that flows back and forth between performer and listener. It was insanely expressive in a way that only this band could manage to be, something that would have been ruined had they a singer to emote.

This was definitely one of the most special live experiences I've had recently, and I'm both grateful and greedy, already wanting to see them again.

Catastrophe And The Cure -Explosions In The Sky
Your Hand In Mine -Explosions In The Sky

I went on a 45-minute walk today, the longest walk I've taken since breaking my arm. It's the kind of sunny that makes the sky seem huge enough to be something slightly afraid of, but there's still a slight chill in the air.

I think that the people who sneer at Salt Lake City and Utah in general--both the ones that live here and the ones that don't--haven't quite realized how much progress has been made here. The mere fact that I can take a walk downtownish and actually see other people out walking (on Easter Sunday, no less) is astounding. There seems to be more life here every day. I can feel that the unfortunate values that have shaped this town and state for decades, the values that made me miserable growing up and that made it so necessary for me to leave, are losing in the fight for something better.

I spent more money than I can justify yesterday buying actual CDs. Graywhale CD Exchange has replaced Portland's Everyday Music as my happiest place on earth, and it has been very bad for my wallet to live so close to it. None of the music I bought was new, just new to me, and I'm going to try and write up actual reviews. A big part of the reason I'm starting this blog is to give myself more practice writing about one of the biggest parts of my life right now--music. So these albums are old and it's highly possible I won't say anything that hasn't been said before, but I'm going to spill my thoughts on them anyway.

Cloud Cult, Advice From The Happy Hippopotamus

This is the kind of album that I'd want to listen to if I were recovering from a suicide attempt. It's determinedly hopeful, but not naively so--the album has its harder edges. It's optimistic without denying desperation. There's plenty of whimsy and sweetness, but it never leaves a syrupy aftertaste. The relentless positivity is tempered by a rueful realism: I feel like I shouldn't be sold on lines like I've sailed through hurricanes with just a wooden plank and a smilly face, but the vocalist, though his voice has a definite fragile quality to it, also conveys a watery strength that sells even the silliest hippo and ya-ya lines.

There's plenty in the mix musically. The transitions from acoustic to electric, from synthesizers and violins to grungier sounds, are all smooth and feel perfectly natural. The songwriting is solid and the band isn't afraid to noodle around with riffs for measures and measures before getting to the point of their songs. It's a perfect album for leaving winter behind and deciding to face whatever this next season is going to throw at you; it's like an advertisement for life, or at least for getting through it.

Clip-Clop by Cloud Cult
Start New by Cloud Cult
We Made Up Your Mind For You by Cloud Cult

This thing has sat here for a week while I tried to write up an introductory post, so fuck it, whatever, here I am. I don't know what I'll get from this or what I should expect, or what anyone else should expect--it will probably be primarily for posting about music and about where I live, Salt Lake City, and maybe a little bitching about my broken arm. It might just be a dumping ground, it might evolve into something more.

Here are some songs that I like a lot:

On My Own For That -5G Productions' Remix of Gym Class Heroes'
Why You Wanna -T.I.
Self-Destructive Zones -Drive-By Truckers
I Love You. Let's Light Ourselves On Fire by The Mountain Goats