When leading a life of solitude it is essential to find new and interesting ways to keep oneself amused. Currently my favourite game involves setting iTunes to random and, whilst keeping my eyes firmly shut, pressing the skip button and attempting to call out the name of the artist and the title of the song within the shortest period of time possible. I'd say I'm on an 80% success rate at the moment. With my iTunes currently holding 5438 songs, and not having uploaded many of the songs from my youth I'm most familiar with, I don't think I need to start worrying about early-Alzheimer's just yet.
When I was a young boy there were very few details about the music I listened to that I didn't know. As well as having an intimate knowledge of every word and musical note contained on an album, I would devour the liner notes, taking any crumb of information I could - record labels, producers, recording studios, whose grandmother was thanked - I knew it all. However, once I started to obtain a disposable income this dedication became a little more difficult. The music I desired was far too numerous for the amount of time I had to dedicate to it, and so albums had to be treated less as profound elements of my deepest soul and more areas of intrigue. Obviously, some records I discover still have a significant impact on me and their details I am captivated by, however the obsessiveness I displayed in my youth has waned for most of my musical encounters. Although I may no longer need to know who produced or who was the guest trombonist on albums I currently listen to, I am extremely intrigued with my Last.fm page. For those who don't know, Last.fm is a webpage that compiles every song that you listen to on your computer and provides you with weekly and overall charts. It is endlessly fascinating. I can't wait for every Monday morning to see just who won the previous week and how that will affect my overall chart. However, I must admit that sometimes I do cheat a little. Occasionally if I'm not happy with the "balance" of the chart I will make a playlist of certain bands and leave it running while I'm asleep. For example, the new Björk album is rather disappointing. Now Björk has a rather high position on my my overall chart, but due to her new album not being up to scratch I feel that she doesn't deserve this high chart placing. So tonight I will most likely make a playlist of Múm and La Casa Azul songs (the two bands directly beneath her) and have this on rotation during the night in order move them ahead of Björk in the chart and express my dissatisfaction to her.
One may think that having having musical playing all night would effect my sleeping. However, its low purr doesn't bother me. I envisage it akin to having someone lying next to me and breathing throughout the night. In this way I consider it a comforting sound. A makeshift comfort, but a comfort all the same.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
I Am Everyday People
I'm thinking I'll just take the blog back to rambling about everyday crap that happens to me. Recently I've been far too interested in writing highly polished and clever pieces in an attempt to try and impress people who have no interest in being impressed with me. Everyone has a blog these days, Grant. People both in power and otherwise will not find it extraordinary. Remember at the Love Is All show when that girl said to you "You must really like the band to be right down the front" and you responded with "I just want to get some good photos for my blog", remember that? She didn't raise her eyebrow because she was intrigued that you would have a blog, she was repelled by the fact that you would announce so proudly you had something so common as a blog.
So I'm on the couch supposedly writing an essay. Cathy's in the kitchen cooking up something that smells unappealing. The cat is killing birds like he works at a poultry farm, I had to vacuum up all the feathers this morning. And a dark wind blows...
I was considering developing a crush on Marieke Hardy after she declared herself a former Fitzroy supporter in The Age this morning. However after the mention of this "handsome bass player" in her article, I became suspicious of her. Her profile on her blog lists an number of unsavoury bands that she is into, and one can only assume that this "bass player" is in a band of a similar ilk. This is a problem for two reasons. Firstly, 87% of guys who form bands only do so because they know "chicks love it". And secondly, guys in rock bands are really just rugby players minus the ability to throw (or whatever supposed skill rugby players are meant to possess). Marieke's inability to recognise these two obvious facts immediately disqualifies her from being potential relationship material (imaginary or otherwise).
Presently I'm being seduced by the blue-lit electro-pop of Hamilton, Ontario's very own Junior Boys. Jeremy Greenspan's sensitive white-boy vocal stylings invoke a genuine guy who can't quite find a way out of the seedy life he's found himself leading. This is music for late-night winter train travel, for the underpass at Richmond station or for 5am in Little Bourke Street when you're looking for some opium. Not that I do a lot of the latter, but one can imagine.
So I'm on the couch supposedly writing an essay. Cathy's in the kitchen cooking up something that smells unappealing. The cat is killing birds like he works at a poultry farm, I had to vacuum up all the feathers this morning. And a dark wind blows...
I was considering developing a crush on Marieke Hardy after she declared herself a former Fitzroy supporter in The Age this morning. However after the mention of this "handsome bass player" in her article, I became suspicious of her. Her profile on her blog lists an number of unsavoury bands that she is into, and one can only assume that this "bass player" is in a band of a similar ilk. This is a problem for two reasons. Firstly, 87% of guys who form bands only do so because they know "chicks love it". And secondly, guys in rock bands are really just rugby players minus the ability to throw (or whatever supposed skill rugby players are meant to possess). Marieke's inability to recognise these two obvious facts immediately disqualifies her from being potential relationship material (imaginary or otherwise).
Presently I'm being seduced by the blue-lit electro-pop of Hamilton, Ontario's very own Junior Boys. Jeremy Greenspan's sensitive white-boy vocal stylings invoke a genuine guy who can't quite find a way out of the seedy life he's found himself leading. This is music for late-night winter train travel, for the underpass at Richmond station or for 5am in Little Bourke Street when you're looking for some opium. Not that I do a lot of the latter, but one can imagine.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Make A Joyful Noise Here!
Around mid-2005 I ordered the then current Why? EP - Sanddollars - direct from the Anticon website. Patience is one virtue I am lacking, and so to wait for the EP to eventually find its way to Australia would have been far too painful for me. At 8 tracks long, I guess you could say it was more of a mini-album than an EP. It was vastly superior to the album, Elephant Eyelash, that followed it, but this is neither here nor there. What was both there, and, more importantly, is here was the final track on the release titled Mutant John. As well as being being a great little number, it contained the following intriguing lyric:
A week or so later I was in Readings on Lygon St. and, despite its exorbitant price, decided to pick up a copy of the bible for the hip young literarti, The Believer. It was the music issue, and although my initial fascination lay with the accompanying cd that contained a cover of Joanna Newsom's Bridges and Balloons by The Decemberists, it was the opening article that made the more lasting impression on me. By some wonderful (possibly divine) coincidence, the issue contained a piece by Rick Moody on The Danielson Famile. Moody began his article by explaining (or defending) his love of difficult music, and then recalled his own discovery of the Danielson Famile via a record party (where each attendee brings two tracks they are in love with at present). However, it soon became obvious that there was an elephant in Moody's pen that he was building up to reveal (in a similar way to what I have just done). You see, The Danielson Famile are a Christian band, and when I say "Christian", man, do I mean Christian. Yet, upon reading this I wasn't deterred. Although I may be suspicious of the existence of God, having been brought up by a Christian mother (which included frequent church attendance) and having attended a Christian boys school, I'm familiar enough with the language and imagery to not find it confrontational. What was apparent from Moody's article was that, although the band may be Christians, musically they were no straightforward church picnic. His description of the band's music included terms and phrases like "bizarre instrumentation, unusual time-signatures, charming and ominous innocence, and musical caterwauling". This was all good news to me. The other glaring detail about the band was that they were actually a family. Formed by Daniel Smith to perform songs for his art-school thesis, the group consists of Daniel's sisters Megan and Rachel, his brothers Andrew and David, his wife, Elin and best friend since kindergarten, Chris Palladino (later Chris's wife, Melissa, would join the band). And, as previously mentioned, they all wore nurses uniforms.
Having an instinctive inclination to separate myself from the pack I decided the band sounded too genuinely weird to ignore. And quite frankly the Christianity was a bonus. Although your modern day hipster changes scene with all the flimsy foundation and extreme self-ambition of Henry VIII creating the Church Of England, there is no way their constant flip-flopping would lead to an interest in a Christian band. Here would be a group I could cherish on my own, slipping in the occasional track on a mix-tape to surprise people, I could wear the band with pride knowing that most people would hesitate to go near them.
However, this was all just a daydream as I was still yet to hear a note. So I decided to see if I could seek out some of their records around town. The first album I discovered was the Br. Danielson album Brother:Son, whilst this album did feature members of the Famile, it was primarily a solo album for Daniel Smith.
After the exuberant and intoxicating opening track Things Against Stuff (a song that seems, to me, to be a critique of denominational bickering), it soon became apparent that Daniel's arty tendencies were a little more pronounced than any evangelism he may have been using his music as a vehicle for. Songs would chop and change and contain meandering passages of little structure. And then there was the most obvious element to music: Daniel's voice, a shrill, squeaking falsetto that squawked lyrics rather than sang them. Yet the album made enough of an impression on me to order the Famile album Fetch The Compass Kids a few days later. It was with this album, and its preceding albums - Tri-Danielson (Alpha) & (Omega) and Tell Another Joke At The Ol' Chopping Block - that the true glory of the band was revealed. These were pop songs, albeit off-kilter ones. They were sloppy and clumsy with off-beat rhythms, Daniel's squeaky voice being harmonised by his sisters and wife. There was a childlike enthusiasm to the band, some may deem it amateur, but it's a beauty akin to that of a child banging on a sauce-pan with a spoon. I wouldn't hesitate to describe the sounds they make as joyful. I was fascinated and hooked.
With each album the band's sound has become a little more focused and this became apparent with the release of the Danielson album of last year titled Ships. Whilst previous albums had been truly wonderful, they were too easily overshadowed by the novelty of the band. However, with Ships Daniel Smith proved himself as a songwriter and composer of astonishing talent. The album received enthusiastic praise from the quality music publications.
Last week a package arrived in my postbox. It was a documentary on the band titled Danielson: A Family Movie (or, Make A Joyful Noise Here). The film documents the band's and Daniel's progression, as well as the different paths each member of the Famile (family) take which result in the band frequently not being able to play together (and result in the Br. Danielson record as well). It's a genuinely affecting film and I have no qualms in admitting that I had some teary eyes for a large percentage of it. I don't believe one has to be a Christian or be affected by the band's music, the band's verve is affecting in itself. And it is this verve which I celebrate [insert joyful noise].
Hey mrmutantjohn@hotmail.com, drop me a line, send me a wire (repeat).....I've been digging those Danielson Famile records you got for me.Aside from once catching a glimpse of a picture of The Danielson Famile in their nurses uniforms whilst flicking through a music magazine, I knew nothing of the band. However, back in 2005 to be name-checked in a Why? song was some serious kudos, so I made a mental note that this band warranted some investigation.
A week or so later I was in Readings on Lygon St. and, despite its exorbitant price, decided to pick up a copy of the bible for the hip young literarti, The Believer. It was the music issue, and although my initial fascination lay with the accompanying cd that contained a cover of Joanna Newsom's Bridges and Balloons by The Decemberists, it was the opening article that made the more lasting impression on me. By some wonderful (possibly divine) coincidence, the issue contained a piece by Rick Moody on The Danielson Famile. Moody began his article by explaining (or defending) his love of difficult music, and then recalled his own discovery of the Danielson Famile via a record party (where each attendee brings two tracks they are in love with at present). However, it soon became obvious that there was an elephant in Moody's pen that he was building up to reveal (in a similar way to what I have just done). You see, The Danielson Famile are a Christian band, and when I say "Christian", man, do I mean Christian. Yet, upon reading this I wasn't deterred. Although I may be suspicious of the existence of God, having been brought up by a Christian mother (which included frequent church attendance) and having attended a Christian boys school, I'm familiar enough with the language and imagery to not find it confrontational. What was apparent from Moody's article was that, although the band may be Christians, musically they were no straightforward church picnic. His description of the band's music included terms and phrases like "bizarre instrumentation, unusual time-signatures, charming and ominous innocence, and musical caterwauling". This was all good news to me. The other glaring detail about the band was that they were actually a family. Formed by Daniel Smith to perform songs for his art-school thesis, the group consists of Daniel's sisters Megan and Rachel, his brothers Andrew and David, his wife, Elin and best friend since kindergarten, Chris Palladino (later Chris's wife, Melissa, would join the band). And, as previously mentioned, they all wore nurses uniforms.
Having an instinctive inclination to separate myself from the pack I decided the band sounded too genuinely weird to ignore. And quite frankly the Christianity was a bonus. Although your modern day hipster changes scene with all the flimsy foundation and extreme self-ambition of Henry VIII creating the Church Of England, there is no way their constant flip-flopping would lead to an interest in a Christian band. Here would be a group I could cherish on my own, slipping in the occasional track on a mix-tape to surprise people, I could wear the band with pride knowing that most people would hesitate to go near them.
However, this was all just a daydream as I was still yet to hear a note. So I decided to see if I could seek out some of their records around town. The first album I discovered was the Br. Danielson album Brother:Son, whilst this album did feature members of the Famile, it was primarily a solo album for Daniel Smith.
After the exuberant and intoxicating opening track Things Against Stuff (a song that seems, to me, to be a critique of denominational bickering), it soon became apparent that Daniel's arty tendencies were a little more pronounced than any evangelism he may have been using his music as a vehicle for. Songs would chop and change and contain meandering passages of little structure. And then there was the most obvious element to music: Daniel's voice, a shrill, squeaking falsetto that squawked lyrics rather than sang them. Yet the album made enough of an impression on me to order the Famile album Fetch The Compass Kids a few days later. It was with this album, and its preceding albums - Tri-Danielson (Alpha) & (Omega) and Tell Another Joke At The Ol' Chopping Block - that the true glory of the band was revealed. These were pop songs, albeit off-kilter ones. They were sloppy and clumsy with off-beat rhythms, Daniel's squeaky voice being harmonised by his sisters and wife. There was a childlike enthusiasm to the band, some may deem it amateur, but it's a beauty akin to that of a child banging on a sauce-pan with a spoon. I wouldn't hesitate to describe the sounds they make as joyful. I was fascinated and hooked.
With each album the band's sound has become a little more focused and this became apparent with the release of the Danielson album of last year titled Ships. Whilst previous albums had been truly wonderful, they were too easily overshadowed by the novelty of the band. However, with Ships Daniel Smith proved himself as a songwriter and composer of astonishing talent. The album received enthusiastic praise from the quality music publications.
Last week a package arrived in my postbox. It was a documentary on the band titled Danielson: A Family Movie (or, Make A Joyful Noise Here). The film documents the band's and Daniel's progression, as well as the different paths each member of the Famile (family) take which result in the band frequently not being able to play together (and result in the Br. Danielson record as well). It's a genuinely affecting film and I have no qualms in admitting that I had some teary eyes for a large percentage of it. I don't believe one has to be a Christian or be affected by the band's music, the band's verve is affecting in itself. And it is this verve which I celebrate [insert joyful noise].
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