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