Elliott Smith - Can’t Make a Sound: youtube.com/watch?v=2tsLfPsYOXQ
I’m concerned with mystery. I like not knowing too much about it all, only letting so much out. For myself it’s a way of finding different forms of expression; as soon as it comes in one form, it tends to remain so. Maybe not the best way but it’s a form of living.
And I’m having a problem with this blog endeavor of mine. I will continue, but under which pretense I’m unsure. Hopefully this all evolves into something kind.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
July 30, 2010: Nick Drake - Horn
Nick Drake - Horn: youtube.com/watch?v=9qhAt1h4H4s
Some days I just don’t have it in me. Uninspired, moving but no new steps and no great steps and only stepping just to step. I’d prefer to stay quiet and let it pass as it can.
Some days I’m defined most by my quiet.
Some days I just don’t have it in me. Uninspired, moving but no new steps and no great steps and only stepping just to step. I’d prefer to stay quiet and let it pass as it can.
Some days I’m defined most by my quiet.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
July 29, 2010: Dan Bern - Tiger Woods
Dan Bern - Tiger Woods: youtube.com/watch?v=U9i9njY1Vh0&feature=related
I wish I could just be the type who can be content with the every day, just getting through. No ambition beyond that, no drive, no striving to do good or better, just a contentedness in the daily life and moving.
I’m not talking about ignorance. It’s important to read and have some idea as to your environment, as to other peoples agendas, to point out the flaws in the systems to which you take part. But, with that knowledge, there are those who simply pass through the day into the next, living within their means and content. I guess I’d prefer to be a passive participant than an active participant.
Granted, I do what I love, mostly. There are always, though, aspects of those things you love which will cause you grief. I love playing shows, organizing shows brings immeasurable stress. I love writing, I sometimes lament the solitude of the act. I’d rather be sitting in a bar or a coffee shop reading and engaging in the occasional conversation. But then when I do those things I get a nagging itch that I should be home writing or organizing a show.
One of the best pieces of writing advice I’ve ever received was from Dan Bern. Someone asked him if he ever experiences writers block to which he said, “No. Sometimes I’m writing, sometimes I’m not writing.” I’ve tried to take this to heart, but my body aches to be creating when I go through periods of not creating. I get this kick that maybe I’m fooling myself and everyone around me when I label myself a writer or an artist or a musician. I don’t write songs every day, I barely even pick up an instrument. It’s still exiting to me but it becomes such a slow and agonizing process for my periods of inactivity and the fact that I am a slow and methodical writer. Every word has to fit just right before it’s complete and some songs have taken 5 years or more for this. And 9 out of 10 songs I write are either for myself only or an exercise or are just plain no good. As an artist with little output, how much of an artist can I call myself?
And that’s why I can’t be content with the every day. I know it’s something I can change but I don’t know that I truly want to. I married these ideas when I was young and I owe myself to see them to their death (which will likely be my own death).
There is a piece by Leonard Cohen where he states that he is not a real poet, that the real poet has poetry coursing through his entire being and cannot do but to be a poet, that he himself does not possess this quality and is therefore not a real poet but prefers this stance. Music and words run through my blood but I am not a real musician nor am I a real writer. I could live without them, a piece of me would die but I could turn my back if I wanted.
I wish I could just be the type who can be content with the every day, just getting through. No ambition beyond that, no drive, no striving to do good or better, just a contentedness in the daily life and moving.
I’m not talking about ignorance. It’s important to read and have some idea as to your environment, as to other peoples agendas, to point out the flaws in the systems to which you take part. But, with that knowledge, there are those who simply pass through the day into the next, living within their means and content. I guess I’d prefer to be a passive participant than an active participant.
Granted, I do what I love, mostly. There are always, though, aspects of those things you love which will cause you grief. I love playing shows, organizing shows brings immeasurable stress. I love writing, I sometimes lament the solitude of the act. I’d rather be sitting in a bar or a coffee shop reading and engaging in the occasional conversation. But then when I do those things I get a nagging itch that I should be home writing or organizing a show.
One of the best pieces of writing advice I’ve ever received was from Dan Bern. Someone asked him if he ever experiences writers block to which he said, “No. Sometimes I’m writing, sometimes I’m not writing.” I’ve tried to take this to heart, but my body aches to be creating when I go through periods of not creating. I get this kick that maybe I’m fooling myself and everyone around me when I label myself a writer or an artist or a musician. I don’t write songs every day, I barely even pick up an instrument. It’s still exiting to me but it becomes such a slow and agonizing process for my periods of inactivity and the fact that I am a slow and methodical writer. Every word has to fit just right before it’s complete and some songs have taken 5 years or more for this. And 9 out of 10 songs I write are either for myself only or an exercise or are just plain no good. As an artist with little output, how much of an artist can I call myself?
And that’s why I can’t be content with the every day. I know it’s something I can change but I don’t know that I truly want to. I married these ideas when I was young and I owe myself to see them to their death (which will likely be my own death).
There is a piece by Leonard Cohen where he states that he is not a real poet, that the real poet has poetry coursing through his entire being and cannot do but to be a poet, that he himself does not possess this quality and is therefore not a real poet but prefers this stance. Music and words run through my blood but I am not a real musician nor am I a real writer. I could live without them, a piece of me would die but I could turn my back if I wanted.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
July 28, 2010: John Cage - 4’33
John Cage - 4’33: youtube.com/watch?v=3fYvfEMUJl8
I like music. I was asked the other day what kind of music I listen to. Music. There are no genres, really. You might as well ask a person what kind of colours they look at. The answer will always be all of them.
I had a conversation with a friend of mine from Halifax. He said he once went to a show where a noise band hooked two nintendos up to TVs and played video games, miked the TV speakers and ran them through distortion, reverb and delay pedals. And this went on for a 45 minute set. Then a standard 4 piece rock band got up and played pop songs. His reaction to the noise band was “Hmm, that was alright,” and his reaction to the rock band was “This is shit.” He found these reactions to be funny, set next to each other.
The first time I heard of John Cage’s “4’33” I hated it. It sounds like the ultimate in pretentiousness; a classical orchestra sits completely still, doesn’t play a note, people get dressed up and pay to hear it and critics rave about this piece that exists through its non-existence. And people credit a man for silence.
But then when I thought about it, when I heard John Cage talk about the piece, when I watched a video of this experience, I changed my mind. Granted, I do think some take it a little too seriously, especially in the dissection of it all, but how funny is the whole thing? The fact that people refer to it as a “performance,” a “concert”?
Silence is music, though. As far as I can perceive the universe is made up of two things: 1 and 0. Existence and non-existence. Everything and nothing, simultaneously. The part of this that I cannot fully grasp is that as both existence and non-existence exist simultaneously there is no differentiation. Life cannot exist without death, death cannot exist without life. So does that mean that nothingness doesn’t exist? as it is all 1? Silence cannot exist without music, so doesn’t that make silence a form of music?
I like music. I was asked the other day what kind of music I listen to. Music. There are no genres, really. You might as well ask a person what kind of colours they look at. The answer will always be all of them.
I had a conversation with a friend of mine from Halifax. He said he once went to a show where a noise band hooked two nintendos up to TVs and played video games, miked the TV speakers and ran them through distortion, reverb and delay pedals. And this went on for a 45 minute set. Then a standard 4 piece rock band got up and played pop songs. His reaction to the noise band was “Hmm, that was alright,” and his reaction to the rock band was “This is shit.” He found these reactions to be funny, set next to each other.
The first time I heard of John Cage’s “4’33” I hated it. It sounds like the ultimate in pretentiousness; a classical orchestra sits completely still, doesn’t play a note, people get dressed up and pay to hear it and critics rave about this piece that exists through its non-existence. And people credit a man for silence.
But then when I thought about it, when I heard John Cage talk about the piece, when I watched a video of this experience, I changed my mind. Granted, I do think some take it a little too seriously, especially in the dissection of it all, but how funny is the whole thing? The fact that people refer to it as a “performance,” a “concert”?
Silence is music, though. As far as I can perceive the universe is made up of two things: 1 and 0. Existence and non-existence. Everything and nothing, simultaneously. The part of this that I cannot fully grasp is that as both existence and non-existence exist simultaneously there is no differentiation. Life cannot exist without death, death cannot exist without life. So does that mean that nothingness doesn’t exist? as it is all 1? Silence cannot exist without music, so doesn’t that make silence a form of music?
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
July 27, 2010: Japandroids - Heart Sweats
Japandroids - Heart Sweats: youtube.com/watch?v=WPuS2VHvXmU&feature=related
I wish I'd written this song.
I wish I'd written this song.
Monday, July 26, 2010
July 26th, 2010: Jeff Buckley - I Know We Could Be So Happy (If We Wanted to Be)
Note: My apologies for missing a day, I had not been home long enough to touch a computer. This project will move from being a years worth of blog posts to 365 blog posts total, as daily as is possible. There will be days I miss. And I continue...
Jeff Buckley - I Know We Could Be So Happy (If We Wanted to Be): youtube.com/watch?v=9fJDp9vFoTY
Have you ever considered: When I die, will they play a song at my funeral? What will that song be? Will I have any say in this decision?
First, it doesn’t matter. You’re dead. If your body is lying in a room filled with your loved ones and the sonic experience they decide to share with everyone to encapsulate your life happens to be “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion, it won’t really matter because you’re dead. You won’t really care. Others will be pissed (please, everyone), but not you.
Second, I don’t want a song played at my funeral. There is no one song that captures my life. There is no compilation of songs that captures my life. If anything, I hope all my musical friends get together and play their own songs, put on a big show after the fact just to get together and celebrate the community, each others contribution to musical history.
Third, dismissing everything said above, if there was a compilation of songs to play to capture my life and death, this song would be among them. “Morning Bell” by Radiohead would be there. So would “Fish Heads” by Barnes and Barnes. Strongly, “Story of an Artist” by Daniel Johnston. Even stronger, and probably the ultimate, would be “Sinnerman” by Nina Simone.
But none of that matters, really. I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand why I love these songs so much and their massive significance in understanding me as an individual. But I love these songs and they have a massive significance in understanding me as an individual.
But I guess this project continues to vainly represent that fleeting beauty that all art and life will capture.
Jeff Buckley - I Know We Could Be So Happy (If We Wanted to Be): youtube.com/watch?v=9fJDp9vFoTY
Have you ever considered: When I die, will they play a song at my funeral? What will that song be? Will I have any say in this decision?
First, it doesn’t matter. You’re dead. If your body is lying in a room filled with your loved ones and the sonic experience they decide to share with everyone to encapsulate your life happens to be “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion, it won’t really matter because you’re dead. You won’t really care. Others will be pissed (please, everyone), but not you.
Second, I don’t want a song played at my funeral. There is no one song that captures my life. There is no compilation of songs that captures my life. If anything, I hope all my musical friends get together and play their own songs, put on a big show after the fact just to get together and celebrate the community, each others contribution to musical history.
Third, dismissing everything said above, if there was a compilation of songs to play to capture my life and death, this song would be among them. “Morning Bell” by Radiohead would be there. So would “Fish Heads” by Barnes and Barnes. Strongly, “Story of an Artist” by Daniel Johnston. Even stronger, and probably the ultimate, would be “Sinnerman” by Nina Simone.
But none of that matters, really. I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand why I love these songs so much and their massive significance in understanding me as an individual. But I love these songs and they have a massive significance in understanding me as an individual.
But I guess this project continues to vainly represent that fleeting beauty that all art and life will capture.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
July 24, 2010: Ace of Base - The Sign
Ace of Base - The Sign: youtube.com/watch?v=FwatjHcV1ZM
Remember this song? Of course you do. Even if it’s before your generation's time I promise you know this song. When "The Sign" by Ace of Base came out it was played everywhere by everybody all the time. How is it that a song, so meaningless and simple, among so many other catchy and well produced songs, can reach into your body and never let you not remember it? Why was this song played so much while others went neglected?
Every generation has a song like this. I don’t know what the generation that preceded me would say is their song but we all seem to have one. It was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” for one, “Hey Ya!” for another, “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” for one long before. There doesn’t seem to be any common thread between them that I can decipher but they somehow speak to our collective psyches at one point and form a history.
Stories are our way of creating our environment. They can be, from my experience, very 2-dimensional, everything becomes fiction; there is a beginning, middle, end format from one perspective, generally. And stories tend to move in 3 acts with the action and the tension in the second act. So if we tell a story from one perspective we’re missing all the other perspectives around us and how they created the story. If we move from beginning to middle and end there is so much more that came before and after that we are neglecting. If we focus on the 3 act format we’re stuck telling the same story over and over. And it’s all fiction because in telling stories within the confines of all these systems we’re taking the entirety of an event and boiling it down into a concentrated form that no longer represents the entirety of the event.
And songs are a form of storytelling.
So, what does “The Sign” by Ace of Base say about my generation? What did it say that it spoke so strongly to my neighbor in grade one, my cousin in high school, myself and near everyone I knew, to the point where we accepted it as a representative of an ongoing creation of our entire history? I doubt anyone over 25 at the time it came out would realize the enormity of this song on my generation or even care, and good. They had their own songs at the time that I didn’t know of, that I wouldn’t care for. But “The Sign” was there for my generation, everywhere, and I don’t know what it means. I could come up with all sorts of theories but I feel they would all be so pointless and pretentious when there has to be an easy answer. Maybe it was just super catchy and people really wanted to dance and not think about the enormity of life? I don’t remember any significant news stories from 1993/1994 that were concerning to our way of life (no war, no economic trouble, no domestic epidemics); maybe it was a celebration of a life somewhat unanalyzed and therefore growing pointless? Maybe it spoke to our want of seeing the sign?
I don’t know what the generation that is coming after me has as an equivalent, as their song. I hope it’s something by Interpol or The Constantines or The National. Actually, maybe it’s “1,2,3,4” by Feist? Shit, I hope so.
Remember this song? Of course you do. Even if it’s before your generation's time I promise you know this song. When "The Sign" by Ace of Base came out it was played everywhere by everybody all the time. How is it that a song, so meaningless and simple, among so many other catchy and well produced songs, can reach into your body and never let you not remember it? Why was this song played so much while others went neglected?
Every generation has a song like this. I don’t know what the generation that preceded me would say is their song but we all seem to have one. It was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” for one, “Hey Ya!” for another, “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight” for one long before. There doesn’t seem to be any common thread between them that I can decipher but they somehow speak to our collective psyches at one point and form a history.
Stories are our way of creating our environment. They can be, from my experience, very 2-dimensional, everything becomes fiction; there is a beginning, middle, end format from one perspective, generally. And stories tend to move in 3 acts with the action and the tension in the second act. So if we tell a story from one perspective we’re missing all the other perspectives around us and how they created the story. If we move from beginning to middle and end there is so much more that came before and after that we are neglecting. If we focus on the 3 act format we’re stuck telling the same story over and over. And it’s all fiction because in telling stories within the confines of all these systems we’re taking the entirety of an event and boiling it down into a concentrated form that no longer represents the entirety of the event.
And songs are a form of storytelling.
So, what does “The Sign” by Ace of Base say about my generation? What did it say that it spoke so strongly to my neighbor in grade one, my cousin in high school, myself and near everyone I knew, to the point where we accepted it as a representative of an ongoing creation of our entire history? I doubt anyone over 25 at the time it came out would realize the enormity of this song on my generation or even care, and good. They had their own songs at the time that I didn’t know of, that I wouldn’t care for. But “The Sign” was there for my generation, everywhere, and I don’t know what it means. I could come up with all sorts of theories but I feel they would all be so pointless and pretentious when there has to be an easy answer. Maybe it was just super catchy and people really wanted to dance and not think about the enormity of life? I don’t remember any significant news stories from 1993/1994 that were concerning to our way of life (no war, no economic trouble, no domestic epidemics); maybe it was a celebration of a life somewhat unanalyzed and therefore growing pointless? Maybe it spoke to our want of seeing the sign?
I don’t know what the generation that is coming after me has as an equivalent, as their song. I hope it’s something by Interpol or The Constantines or The National. Actually, maybe it’s “1,2,3,4” by Feist? Shit, I hope so.
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