I watched Brewster’s Millions (with Richard Pryor) as a child; it was one of those movies my parents insisted I would enjoy even though it didn’t look like much at first to my kid brain. But it left about as much impact on me as any marginally-entertaining few hours of my first ten years, and I remember the basic premise and conclusion to this day.
More recently, after a full decade of adulthood and beginning a class in accounting, I decided to re-watch the film and investigate a new idea about what it really says about money and the people who have it.
The premise, for those of you who haven’t read the synopsis, is that Monty Brewster inherits $300,000,000 from an eccentric estranged uncle on one condition: that he spend no less than $30,000,000 in exactly a month, without accumulating any assets. If he fails or if he tells anyone, he gets nothing. A sexy accountant from the law firm is tasked with following him around and meticulously documenting his spending.
Sounds fun, right? Not only does the lower-class protag get to go on a monthlong spending spree the likes of which most of us can only dream of, but at the end of it he’s rich beyond his wildest imaginings three hundred times over. The film opens with a text crawl: “Montgomery Brewster... got handed the American Dream... on a very hot plate.”
That’s a detail I didn’t remember from my childhood viewing, and it threw me for a loop when I saw it this time around. Now, I have to admit the whole idea of an “American Dream” always perplexed me. It always seemed at once uselessly vague and annoyingly prescriptive. Middle school social studies teachers alternately described it as “wanting a better life for yourself and your family” and something about white picket fences, one of which is far from limited to this one country and the other of which is, last I checked, limited to only a small percent of Americans, most of whom live in the grayscale neighborhoods of Pleasantville. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about this supposed American dream, it has nothing to do with being “handed” anything, no matter how hot the plate is. It’s about working hard to get ahead, as implausible as that is in the real world.
But here’s the thing, and this is why I decided to re-watch the film in the first place. Most of us aren’t handed a great big hunk of cash just because some relative we may or may not know has died. Or because some relative we do know is still alive and wants to make sure we have all the best things from cars to educational opportunities to the occasional get-out-of-jail-free card. But here’s that thing I was just talking about: some of us are. We live in an unbalanced society where a privileged few do get handed a great deal that they didn’t earn.
Now many of those currently obnoxiously wealthy would like you to know that they did work for what they have. They may have had some help in the beginning - a few generous investments in their initial enterprises, a modest inheritance they spent wisely in order to make it grow rather than shrink, that kind of thing. They didn’t just fritter away what they had, as the common people would, and their current success is a testament not to their luck but to their keen skills as investors and entrepreneurs. Thus, these billionaires, despite their early windfalls, are truly self-made men.
Brewster’s Millions tells a different kind of story. Its protagonist is given an amazing amount, and he isn’t instructed “be careful, this has to last.” He isn’t told, “you need to invest this money wisely if you don’t want to end up right where you stared.” He has to spend as much money as he can in just a month. He’s highly motivated to waste it all and end up broke. He’s not just burning through a million dollars a day because he doesn’t know how to invest wisely. He wants to lose it all. He wants to have nothing to show for it at the end of the month.
And you know what? The story’s old enough that I won’t feel bad spoiling it for you. He fails. Every time he thinks he’s come up with a brilliant scheme to lose money, he ends up earning even more. He only technically wins because he gets threatened with a lawsuit with less than two minutes left on the clock, and offers to pay for that sexy accountant to get a law degree and represent him with the last bit of cash he’s got. Yeah, it was a nailbiter right to the end. But it just goes to show that losing money is every bit as difficult as getting it.
And that’s really the crux of the matter, right? We live in a world where not only is it hard for the poor to get rich, but it’s just as hard for the rich to get poor. When someone gets a windfall and later ends up on a trajectory into the upper echelons of wealth and power, it’s easy for them to see themselves as self-made. But how much of their wealth was really the result of their own hard work and good decision-making, and how much of it is just due to the nature of large sums of money to multiply even in the hands of simpletons?
And what does it say about the American Dream?
Friday, July 01, 2016
Thursday, January 28, 2016
Why I Love Cats (Featuring Tetra)
Cats are honest. Cats do what they want to, no compromises. Cats don’t do things out of pity or duty or because they’re afraid of disappointing someone. If a cat is doing something you know it’s because they want to.
If you want to play and the cat doesn’t want to play, the cat won’t play. If you want to cuddle and the cat doesn’t want to cuddle, the cat won’t cuddle. Cats may try new things or learn new skills, but they know when to give up and admit the task is beyond them. When they fail, they may indulge in some embarrassed self-grooming, but they won’t genuflect and grovel for forgiveness; they have realistic expectations of themselves. You can always trust cats, because they are always sincere.
Dogs aren’t like that. Dogs have such a thirst to please that they can be trained to save lives, track down criminals, and do so many other tasks that make life better for mankind. But they need that training from humans, or else they’re just eager to please and unable to perform. Unless someone puts in the many hours of hard work to train the dog, it doesn’t matter how sad it is when it knows it’s disappointed you... the dog will always disappoint you.
I’ve begun to think of people in this way. If you’re dealing with someone who’s eager to please, they may commit to what they lack the training to do. When they fail, they’ll be genuinely sorry to disappoint you, but still unable to change their ways. If you’re dealing with someone whose motives come from within themselves, who does only what they want and know they’re able to do, you can trust them.
This doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t rely on people who desire to please; it’s an admirable and positive trait that sometimes makes people very reliable indeed. But if you ever do, make sure that person is capable of what you ask of them. Often, they’re blind to their own shortcomings, and will overcommit.
Like all “metaphors for life,” this lesson is oversimplified and not universal, but may help in certain specific contexts. I welcome you to apply it or not apply it as suits your needs.
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| Pictured: a cat. |
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| Pictured: a cat who wants to cuddle. |
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| Pictured: a cat who wants to be between two shirts. |
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| Pictured: a cat making no promises concerning the welfare of your flowers. |
Like all “metaphors for life,” this lesson is oversimplified and not universal, but may help in certain specific contexts. I welcome you to apply it or not apply it as suits your needs.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Why you should not get angry if someone tells you what you already know
1. It does not actually hurt you in any way. If you make the argument that it’s wasting your time, I’ll point out to you that you’re on facebook right now.
2. It isn’t meant as an insult. By telling you what you already know, the person doesn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid or ignorant. Just that the information is relevant, and they’d like to say it just in case you didn’t know.
3. From the other person’s perspective, it’s better to tell you something you know than to not tell you something you didn’t know and let you flounder, so they chose the safer option.
4. There is no knowledge so obvious that every intelligent human already knows it. By getting angry at someone for telling you what you already know, you are getting mad at them for not reading your mind. And that is mean.
5. Redundancy is arguably a positive thing. You make backups of important computer files, and you have a spare of important tools you want to keep handy. Telling you what you already know is the equivalent for communication. Sometimes, it really does bear repeating.
6. It does not actually hurt you in any way. Take a deep breath, count to ten, and let it go.
2. It isn’t meant as an insult. By telling you what you already know, the person doesn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid or ignorant. Just that the information is relevant, and they’d like to say it just in case you didn’t know.
3. From the other person’s perspective, it’s better to tell you something you know than to not tell you something you didn’t know and let you flounder, so they chose the safer option.
4. There is no knowledge so obvious that every intelligent human already knows it. By getting angry at someone for telling you what you already know, you are getting mad at them for not reading your mind. And that is mean.
5. Redundancy is arguably a positive thing. You make backups of important computer files, and you have a spare of important tools you want to keep handy. Telling you what you already know is the equivalent for communication. Sometimes, it really does bear repeating.
6. It does not actually hurt you in any way. Take a deep breath, count to ten, and let it go.
Thursday, January 07, 2016
Tattoos of the Future
In the summer of 2007, when I was nineteen, I got my first tattoo. Three and a half years later, in winter of 2011, I got my second tattoo. My third was in summer of 2013, and the fourth - and latest - in summer 2015.
Having spreadsheeted the dates as I remember them, I was able to calculate that the interval between tattoos has gotten shorter by about 25% with each successive tattoo. In other words, my rate of tattoo accrual is increasing at a relatively steady rate. This means that, assuming the rate will remain steady, I should be able to predict the timing of future tattoos and estimate my tattoo count at future dates.
About twenty-two months passed in between tattoos three and four, so I project that my fifth one will be about 16.5 months after that, in October 2016. Considering the timing, it will probably be to celebrate my first wedding anniversary. The sixth will be about twelve months later, October 2017, probably to celebrate my second anniversary.
My seventh will be in July 2018. 2019 will be the first calendar year when I will get more than one new tattoo; they’ll be in February, July, and November.
In 2020, speed will really begin picking up. In that year, I’ll get my 11th tattoo in February, my 12th in April, my 13th in June, my 14th in August, my 15th in September, and 16th through 20th in October. By then, I’ll be getting each new tattoo before the most recent one is even healed. Considering the cost of even small tattoos, I’ll spend more on them than on groceries that month.
By the second week of November 2020, I’ll be getting a new tattoo every day, and spending more money on them than on any of my other living expenses. Starting November 13, I’ll be getting more than one new tattoo each day, and on the 14th will probably have to take up permanent residence at the tattoo parlor. Soon after that, I will have to get multiple artists working on different parts of my body, since each new tattoo will be started before the previous one is even finished.
By the time I turn 33 at the start of 2021, who knows if I’ll have any bare skin left. Presumably I’ll be layering tattoos on top of one another, if I have not already died from the shock of months of constant needling.
Maybe assuming that all established trends will continue indefinitely into the future isn’t the best way to make predictions.
Having spreadsheeted the dates as I remember them, I was able to calculate that the interval between tattoos has gotten shorter by about 25% with each successive tattoo. In other words, my rate of tattoo accrual is increasing at a relatively steady rate. This means that, assuming the rate will remain steady, I should be able to predict the timing of future tattoos and estimate my tattoo count at future dates.
About twenty-two months passed in between tattoos three and four, so I project that my fifth one will be about 16.5 months after that, in October 2016. Considering the timing, it will probably be to celebrate my first wedding anniversary. The sixth will be about twelve months later, October 2017, probably to celebrate my second anniversary.
My seventh will be in July 2018. 2019 will be the first calendar year when I will get more than one new tattoo; they’ll be in February, July, and November.
In 2020, speed will really begin picking up. In that year, I’ll get my 11th tattoo in February, my 12th in April, my 13th in June, my 14th in August, my 15th in September, and 16th through 20th in October. By then, I’ll be getting each new tattoo before the most recent one is even healed. Considering the cost of even small tattoos, I’ll spend more on them than on groceries that month.
By the second week of November 2020, I’ll be getting a new tattoo every day, and spending more money on them than on any of my other living expenses. Starting November 13, I’ll be getting more than one new tattoo each day, and on the 14th will probably have to take up permanent residence at the tattoo parlor. Soon after that, I will have to get multiple artists working on different parts of my body, since each new tattoo will be started before the previous one is even finished.
By the time I turn 33 at the start of 2021, who knows if I’ll have any bare skin left. Presumably I’ll be layering tattoos on top of one another, if I have not already died from the shock of months of constant needling.
Maybe assuming that all established trends will continue indefinitely into the future isn’t the best way to make predictions.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 123: The Magic Position
The Magic Position - Patrick Wolf
In the year and a half that I’ve been trying to hold myself to listening to my entire collection in the order they’re shelved in, this is the one I’ve most played out of turn, during the couple of weeks here and there that I’ve taken a break and just listened according to my immediate whims. I don’t think that’s because I like it any more than the rest of my collection - I think it might just be because it’s so late in the order that it’s been more of a strain on my patience than the others. It’s also unique - there is little about it that I could easily get from another album.
That said, I recently noticed that Patrick Wolf has some similarities with Rufus Wainwright, whom I reviewed a few weeks ago, although it’s hard to put my finger on exactly what it is they have in common. Certainly Wolf appears to be less mature and complex, a bit more angsty, but the majority of the songs on this album have an infectious joy in them that I see in Wainwright’s happier songs. Compare the title track, The Magic Position, to Wainwright’s Beautiful Child. Both were on the playlist I played at my wedding because of that joy that they embody.
Even the darkest songs on The Magic Position are a little hard to take seriously, not because they seem disingenuous but because they’re so enthusiastic in their angst. They’re far from boring or cliche. More often, the songs convey a sense of childlike wonder and pure appreciation of life, even its more painful aspects. A longtime favorite is the penultimate track, The Stars, which at one climactic point simply makes its central thesis:
Look up
look up
the stars!
and then lets the music show us their beauty.
I can’t think of a better way to end my collection than with such a lovely, love-filled album as this.
End of All My CDs
It’s been more than ten dozen reviews and a year and a half since I started this project. I had a goal I hoped to achieve in the process: a better knowledge and appreciation of my collection, so I don’t become one of those people who mindlessly consumes without stopping to really enjoy things. That’s why I resolved not to buy any new CDs until the project was completed. I ended up breaking that rule once, but it was quite late in the game and I don’t think that single lapse kept me from nurturing that sense of appreciation. As for knowledge, I feel I know my collection better than ever, and learned quite a lot about the music that I was neglecting over the years. In that way, I think I’ll call this project a success.
What’s the future of my collection? There’s one change I would like to make now that I’ve taken a full and deep inventory of its contents. I decided that alphabetical order is not the ideal organizational structure for music. Not when my collection is so large and diverse that I can’t immediately bring to mind the name of the band I would like to listen to at any given time. I always disliked segregating music by genre, the way record stores often do, because some of my favorite groups belong in multiple categories or none at all. I may compromise between those two strategies and categorize artists by why I like them, so that I can seek out those qualities when I’m in the mood for them. I already have an idea of what artists will end up grouped together.
I didn’t aim for it, but I think it’s fortuitously appropriate that my last review be posted on New Year’s Eve, so I can begin 2016 with a sense of accomplishment and an opportunity for future projects and new music. There are a couple of albums I have my eye on as new additions to my collection, although I don’t think I’ll be quite as acquisitive as I was in the past. In the meantime, I am very much looking forward to using my blogging powers for good in other areas of my life.
So see you next year, with who knows what kind of new subject matter. I’ll be sticking to a regular update schedule, but going down to once per week, on Thursdays.
In the year and a half that I’ve been trying to hold myself to listening to my entire collection in the order they’re shelved in, this is the one I’ve most played out of turn, during the couple of weeks here and there that I’ve taken a break and just listened according to my immediate whims. I don’t think that’s because I like it any more than the rest of my collection - I think it might just be because it’s so late in the order that it’s been more of a strain on my patience than the others. It’s also unique - there is little about it that I could easily get from another album.
That said, I recently noticed that Patrick Wolf has some similarities with Rufus Wainwright, whom I reviewed a few weeks ago, although it’s hard to put my finger on exactly what it is they have in common. Certainly Wolf appears to be less mature and complex, a bit more angsty, but the majority of the songs on this album have an infectious joy in them that I see in Wainwright’s happier songs. Compare the title track, The Magic Position, to Wainwright’s Beautiful Child. Both were on the playlist I played at my wedding because of that joy that they embody.
Even the darkest songs on The Magic Position are a little hard to take seriously, not because they seem disingenuous but because they’re so enthusiastic in their angst. They’re far from boring or cliche. More often, the songs convey a sense of childlike wonder and pure appreciation of life, even its more painful aspects. A longtime favorite is the penultimate track, The Stars, which at one climactic point simply makes its central thesis:
Look up
look up
the stars!
and then lets the music show us their beauty.
I can’t think of a better way to end my collection than with such a lovely, love-filled album as this.
End of All My CDs
It’s been more than ten dozen reviews and a year and a half since I started this project. I had a goal I hoped to achieve in the process: a better knowledge and appreciation of my collection, so I don’t become one of those people who mindlessly consumes without stopping to really enjoy things. That’s why I resolved not to buy any new CDs until the project was completed. I ended up breaking that rule once, but it was quite late in the game and I don’t think that single lapse kept me from nurturing that sense of appreciation. As for knowledge, I feel I know my collection better than ever, and learned quite a lot about the music that I was neglecting over the years. In that way, I think I’ll call this project a success.
What’s the future of my collection? There’s one change I would like to make now that I’ve taken a full and deep inventory of its contents. I decided that alphabetical order is not the ideal organizational structure for music. Not when my collection is so large and diverse that I can’t immediately bring to mind the name of the band I would like to listen to at any given time. I always disliked segregating music by genre, the way record stores often do, because some of my favorite groups belong in multiple categories or none at all. I may compromise between those two strategies and categorize artists by why I like them, so that I can seek out those qualities when I’m in the mood for them. I already have an idea of what artists will end up grouped together.
I didn’t aim for it, but I think it’s fortuitously appropriate that my last review be posted on New Year’s Eve, so I can begin 2016 with a sense of accomplishment and an opportunity for future projects and new music. There are a couple of albums I have my eye on as new additions to my collection, although I don’t think I’ll be quite as acquisitive as I was in the past. In the meantime, I am very much looking forward to using my blogging powers for good in other areas of my life.
So see you next year, with who knows what kind of new subject matter. I’ll be sticking to a regular update schedule, but going down to once per week, on Thursdays.
Monday, December 28, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 122: Earth to America
Earth to America - Widespread Panic
This might be my most rushed review yet. Not only did I not give this album a proper listen when I first grabbed it at random from the bargain rack a few years ago, I didn’t get a chance to listen to it all weekend either. Now I’m supposed to have a review posted by the end of the day, and I haven’t yet heard more than half the album. I’m forming my first impression even as I write. But I have a schedule and really want to finish this project by the end of the year, so please forgive my haste.
I had zero knowledge of this band or their music before picking up the CD. I’m actually getting something of a Dave Matthews Band vibe from it; similar genre and vocal style at least. It’s fun rock music with a decent beat; it's got some jazz and blues elements but not enough to completely turn me off. It’s definitely not something I’d have sought out, but as a randomly-picked unknown, I’ve definitely had worse.
I can’t say anything about the lyrics at this time. It’s rare that they’re sung in a way that’s easy to follow without reading along, and I can’t say I’ve caught a single line of words that I’m confident I heard correctly. Not that I mind; the music itself is quite entertaining enough.
Overall I’m not sure why I never gave this a listen before now. I seem to remember it was one of two or three CDs I bought that day, and one of the others was by a favorite band. So I just never got around to listening to this one, to my detriment.
Next: The Magic Position
And: The End of All My CDs
This might be my most rushed review yet. Not only did I not give this album a proper listen when I first grabbed it at random from the bargain rack a few years ago, I didn’t get a chance to listen to it all weekend either. Now I’m supposed to have a review posted by the end of the day, and I haven’t yet heard more than half the album. I’m forming my first impression even as I write. But I have a schedule and really want to finish this project by the end of the year, so please forgive my haste.
I had zero knowledge of this band or their music before picking up the CD. I’m actually getting something of a Dave Matthews Band vibe from it; similar genre and vocal style at least. It’s fun rock music with a decent beat; it's got some jazz and blues elements but not enough to completely turn me off. It’s definitely not something I’d have sought out, but as a randomly-picked unknown, I’ve definitely had worse.
I can’t say anything about the lyrics at this time. It’s rare that they’re sung in a way that’s easy to follow without reading along, and I can’t say I’ve caught a single line of words that I’m confident I heard correctly. Not that I mind; the music itself is quite entertaining enough.
Overall I’m not sure why I never gave this a listen before now. I seem to remember it was one of two or three CDs I bought that day, and one of the others was by a favorite band. So I just never got around to listening to this one, to my detriment.
Next: The Magic Position
And: The End of All My CDs
Thursday, December 24, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 121: Where the Wild Things Are
Where the Wild Things Are: Motion Picture Soundtrack - Karen O. and the Kids
When the film Where the Wild Things Are came out, it was often said in reviews and various other writings that it may be a movie about childhood, but that didn’t necessarily make it for children, in that it dealt with a lot of darkness and complexity that would make it more suitable for adult audiences. Media like that hits a delicate demographic niche: it runs the risk of offending audiences that are expecting more lighthearted fare, and people who would appreciate the subtlety of the narrative may not even see it because of its childish appearance - filled with funny puppets and costumes and based, as it is, on a short picture book.
Media that is about childhood but not necessarily for children can be particularly difficult also because it is almost always made by adults - and understandably so, because children usually lack the resources and skills to make large-scale popular art. So media about children and childhood necessarily comes from an outsider perspective - yes we’ve all been children before, but how many of us still remember the visceral experience of it and can accurately describe it without injecting our mature perspectives?
What I’m getting at is that this soundtrack, like the movie it was made for, is made by adults trying to capture the perspectives and experiences of children. The most commonly heard voice on the album is of Karen O., an adult woman sounding remarkably similar to a little boy. Other voices are clearly trying to emulate the energetic and undisciplined sound of children singing, shouting, playing, fighting. The instrumental accompaniment is reminiscent of other large-group indie ensembles like The Polyphonic Spree and The Arcade Fire (possibly why a song by The Arcade Fire was used in the film’s trailer).
The exceptions are Hideaway and Worried Shoes, which sound calmer and more adult than the rest of the songs, with contemplative lyrics and simple piano accompaniment.
My favorite tracks on the album are Sailing Home and Building All Is Love, the latter because it’s one of those extra-long songs with several false endings that I generally find myself attracted to (if I’m enjoying something, I like having it go on longer than I expect). Both songs are just so hopeful and springy.
Two more CDs and I’ll be done with this project.
Next: Earth to America
When the film Where the Wild Things Are came out, it was often said in reviews and various other writings that it may be a movie about childhood, but that didn’t necessarily make it for children, in that it dealt with a lot of darkness and complexity that would make it more suitable for adult audiences. Media like that hits a delicate demographic niche: it runs the risk of offending audiences that are expecting more lighthearted fare, and people who would appreciate the subtlety of the narrative may not even see it because of its childish appearance - filled with funny puppets and costumes and based, as it is, on a short picture book.
Media that is about childhood but not necessarily for children can be particularly difficult also because it is almost always made by adults - and understandably so, because children usually lack the resources and skills to make large-scale popular art. So media about children and childhood necessarily comes from an outsider perspective - yes we’ve all been children before, but how many of us still remember the visceral experience of it and can accurately describe it without injecting our mature perspectives?
What I’m getting at is that this soundtrack, like the movie it was made for, is made by adults trying to capture the perspectives and experiences of children. The most commonly heard voice on the album is of Karen O., an adult woman sounding remarkably similar to a little boy. Other voices are clearly trying to emulate the energetic and undisciplined sound of children singing, shouting, playing, fighting. The instrumental accompaniment is reminiscent of other large-group indie ensembles like The Polyphonic Spree and The Arcade Fire (possibly why a song by The Arcade Fire was used in the film’s trailer).
The exceptions are Hideaway and Worried Shoes, which sound calmer and more adult than the rest of the songs, with contemplative lyrics and simple piano accompaniment.
My favorite tracks on the album are Sailing Home and Building All Is Love, the latter because it’s one of those extra-long songs with several false endings that I generally find myself attracted to (if I’m enjoying something, I like having it go on longer than I expect). Both songs are just so hopeful and springy.
Two more CDs and I’ll be done with this project.
Next: Earth to America
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 120: Wheel
I opened my eyes one day and was
Wheel - Pat DeSimio and Mallory Beck
This is another CD I’m liable to be biased in reviewing, since half of the duo who recorded it is a dear friend of mine. They recorded this eight-song “demo” of sorts before joining with a third member whose name escapes me to form a folk band called Wheel of Sky, which was locally active for a very short time before fate forced the members to go their separate ways.
The music is quite simple, traditional-style folk music with agrarian themes and a consistent focus on the cyclical nature of time - the pattern of night following day, the wheel of the passing seasons, and the broader cycle of life leading from birth to death. For songwriters living in modern suburban environments, it’s amazing how vividly they depict a less industrial existence in farm villages and near-wilderness, where the passing of seasons has such an impact on life that no aspect of work or play can ignore it.
As much as we can try to, I don’t think it’s any more possible to ignore such cycles now. We may be able to soften winter’s impact with heated houses and cars, but we still feel its power. And a modern human who fails to turn his face toward the sun during spring and summer is a sad one indeed. Moreover, the larger cycle of birth, life, age, and death has no less a grip on us than ever, although perhaps our de-emphasis on seasonal changes and their spiritual, cultural significance has made death all the more bleak and final to our minds.
These are the thoughts that this music has put into my head this week.
Come as mistakes turn into wisdom
come as the rash become the sage
come as the blooms of youth grow into
the rich harvest that blesses age
Next: Where the Wild Things Are
Wheel - Pat DeSimio and Mallory Beck
This is another CD I’m liable to be biased in reviewing, since half of the duo who recorded it is a dear friend of mine. They recorded this eight-song “demo” of sorts before joining with a third member whose name escapes me to form a folk band called Wheel of Sky, which was locally active for a very short time before fate forced the members to go their separate ways.
The music is quite simple, traditional-style folk music with agrarian themes and a consistent focus on the cyclical nature of time - the pattern of night following day, the wheel of the passing seasons, and the broader cycle of life leading from birth to death. For songwriters living in modern suburban environments, it’s amazing how vividly they depict a less industrial existence in farm villages and near-wilderness, where the passing of seasons has such an impact on life that no aspect of work or play can ignore it.
As much as we can try to, I don’t think it’s any more possible to ignore such cycles now. We may be able to soften winter’s impact with heated houses and cars, but we still feel its power. And a modern human who fails to turn his face toward the sun during spring and summer is a sad one indeed. Moreover, the larger cycle of birth, life, age, and death has no less a grip on us than ever, although perhaps our de-emphasis on seasonal changes and their spiritual, cultural significance has made death all the more bleak and final to our minds.
These are the thoughts that this music has put into my head this week.
Come as mistakes turn into wisdom
come as the rash become the sage
come as the blooms of youth grow into
the rich harvest that blesses age
Next: Where the Wild Things Are
Thursday, December 17, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 119: Want Two
I only have five more CDs to review before I’m done with my entire collection, and this project. I’ll have all reviews posted just in time for the end of 2015. After that, it’ll be a short break before I’m back with more to say, just not all of it on the subject of CDs that I own. Some of it will be about CDs I do not own. Some of it will be about things I own that are not CDs. Some of it will be about things that are not CDs and that I do not own. Some of it will be about things that could never be owned, like freedom or death or people. Some of it will be about things that will never be found on CD, like the voice of morning sunshine and the taste of blueberries.
I’m looking forward to an exciting new year.
Want Two - Rufus Wainwright
I got this album a few years after I got Want One, mainly because I had heard the song Little Sister and enjoyed it. It’s quite obviously a sequel, and not just due to the title. The cover art for each echoes the style and symbolism of the other, the major difference being that while Want One’s cover features pictures of Rufus dressed as a medieval knight with a sword, in Want Two’s he is dressed as a medieval lady with a distaff. A distaff is a tool used for spinning fiber into yarn or thread, and has since ancient times symbolized femininity - hence, it seems Want Two is intended to be the distaff counterpart to Want One, expressing female points of view or experiences.
And indeed a few of the songs do focus on women, such as Little Sister which humorously approaches the historical marginalization of women from an unashamed male standpoint, and The Art Teacher which tells a story of unrequited love from a woman’s point of view. Neither is exactly a feminist song, which is refreshing in a way; they focus on women’s struggles for recognition against expectations of passivity and properness, but in neither song is that status quo actually challenged. So it has been for most people for most of history.
Other than those two songs, though, there isn’t a huge difference between this album and Want One that makes it more inherently feminine. They’re similar in style, just as their covers are similar in style. If there’s a difference I can put my finger on it’s that Want Two might be slightly more experimental, a little more “out there”, taking a few more risks with weird sounds and lyrics. But even that is a subtle difference and possibly a subjective one.
Also worth noting is that Want Two has a few songs devoted to overt sexuality (such as Old Whore’s Diet), as well as to religious imagery (such as Agnus Dei). Funnily, Gay Messiah covers both areas at once, borrowing Christian mythological themes and affectionately applying gay stereotypes. Both sex and spirituality, as well as homosexuality, have historically been associated with femininity. Was that the intent behind making this album implicitly the female counterpoint to its predecessor? Or is the overall similarity in their styles intended to convey that there is no real, meaningful difference between the genders, as much as our history insists otherwise?
My guess is, a little bit of both.
Next: Wheel
I’m looking forward to an exciting new year.
Want Two - Rufus Wainwright
I got this album a few years after I got Want One, mainly because I had heard the song Little Sister and enjoyed it. It’s quite obviously a sequel, and not just due to the title. The cover art for each echoes the style and symbolism of the other, the major difference being that while Want One’s cover features pictures of Rufus dressed as a medieval knight with a sword, in Want Two’s he is dressed as a medieval lady with a distaff. A distaff is a tool used for spinning fiber into yarn or thread, and has since ancient times symbolized femininity - hence, it seems Want Two is intended to be the distaff counterpart to Want One, expressing female points of view or experiences.
And indeed a few of the songs do focus on women, such as Little Sister which humorously approaches the historical marginalization of women from an unashamed male standpoint, and The Art Teacher which tells a story of unrequited love from a woman’s point of view. Neither is exactly a feminist song, which is refreshing in a way; they focus on women’s struggles for recognition against expectations of passivity and properness, but in neither song is that status quo actually challenged. So it has been for most people for most of history.
Other than those two songs, though, there isn’t a huge difference between this album and Want One that makes it more inherently feminine. They’re similar in style, just as their covers are similar in style. If there’s a difference I can put my finger on it’s that Want Two might be slightly more experimental, a little more “out there”, taking a few more risks with weird sounds and lyrics. But even that is a subtle difference and possibly a subjective one.
Also worth noting is that Want Two has a few songs devoted to overt sexuality (such as Old Whore’s Diet), as well as to religious imagery (such as Agnus Dei). Funnily, Gay Messiah covers both areas at once, borrowing Christian mythological themes and affectionately applying gay stereotypes. Both sex and spirituality, as well as homosexuality, have historically been associated with femininity. Was that the intent behind making this album implicitly the female counterpoint to its predecessor? Or is the overall similarity in their styles intended to convey that there is no real, meaningful difference between the genders, as much as our history insists otherwise?
My guess is, a little bit of both.
Next: Wheel
Monday, December 14, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 118: Want One
Want One - Rufus Wainwright
After hearing his rendition of Hallelujah, and after Dinner at Eight showed up a few times on Pandora, I decided it was time to buy a Rufus Wainwright album and to start with Want One. I’d be lying if I said a small part of me wasn’t disappointed in the album as a whole, although there were definitely parts I liked about it. Over the years, however, I’ve come to understand how much I missed out on by not appreciating it.
In all the many ways there are to categorize music, by genre or by mood or by what kinds of instruments are involved, whether there are lyrics and whether the lyrics mean anything, one of the most basic distinctions I’ve seen is between “big” and “small” sound. Small sound may (but not necessarily) have few instruments, an intimate feel, and personal lyrics about feelings or relationships - evocative of a small cafe where someone sits in a corner strumming a guitar and crooning about lost love, or a living room where your guest picks out a tune on an upright piano. Big sound is more characteristic of large groups playing in arenas or concert halls, big productions and themes that are less personal. Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody is big sound, as is every classical symphony. Tori Amos’s Yes Anastasia is small sound, as is Moonlight Sonata.
Obviously there’s a great deal in the middle of these two extremes; it’s a broad spectrum. And notably, individual musicians can produce works anywhere along that spectrum, although some may favor one end or the other overall. When my experience of Rufus Wainwright was from the songs Hallelujah and Dinner at Eight, which are both very small, I was not sure what to make of an album full of songs with very big sound - orchestral accompaniment, choirs of backup singers, and grand bombastic deliveries - but lyrics that were much more evocative of intimate, personal themes. I just wasn’t sure how to appreciate it at first. Now, I think I do. The mix of big and small sound gives the album a lot of texture and an outlet for extremes of emotion that aren’t quite accessible in music that is only small.
Today, it is the biggest songs on the album that are my favorites, including Beautiful Child, which I went so far as to feature on the playlist of music I put on at my wedding this past fall. The outpouring of hope, joy, and overwhelming beauty in that song could only ever be captured with a chaos of blaring trumpets, jangling percussion, and about a million other voices united in coordinated disarray.
When I have finally found the room filled with toys
be banging on my crib excited by noise
Oh, how I’ll feel like a beautiful child
such a beautiful child again
Next: Want Two
After hearing his rendition of Hallelujah, and after Dinner at Eight showed up a few times on Pandora, I decided it was time to buy a Rufus Wainwright album and to start with Want One. I’d be lying if I said a small part of me wasn’t disappointed in the album as a whole, although there were definitely parts I liked about it. Over the years, however, I’ve come to understand how much I missed out on by not appreciating it.
In all the many ways there are to categorize music, by genre or by mood or by what kinds of instruments are involved, whether there are lyrics and whether the lyrics mean anything, one of the most basic distinctions I’ve seen is between “big” and “small” sound. Small sound may (but not necessarily) have few instruments, an intimate feel, and personal lyrics about feelings or relationships - evocative of a small cafe where someone sits in a corner strumming a guitar and crooning about lost love, or a living room where your guest picks out a tune on an upright piano. Big sound is more characteristic of large groups playing in arenas or concert halls, big productions and themes that are less personal. Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody is big sound, as is every classical symphony. Tori Amos’s Yes Anastasia is small sound, as is Moonlight Sonata.
Obviously there’s a great deal in the middle of these two extremes; it’s a broad spectrum. And notably, individual musicians can produce works anywhere along that spectrum, although some may favor one end or the other overall. When my experience of Rufus Wainwright was from the songs Hallelujah and Dinner at Eight, which are both very small, I was not sure what to make of an album full of songs with very big sound - orchestral accompaniment, choirs of backup singers, and grand bombastic deliveries - but lyrics that were much more evocative of intimate, personal themes. I just wasn’t sure how to appreciate it at first. Now, I think I do. The mix of big and small sound gives the album a lot of texture and an outlet for extremes of emotion that aren’t quite accessible in music that is only small.
Today, it is the biggest songs on the album that are my favorites, including Beautiful Child, which I went so far as to feature on the playlist of music I put on at my wedding this past fall. The outpouring of hope, joy, and overwhelming beauty in that song could only ever be captured with a chaos of blaring trumpets, jangling percussion, and about a million other voices united in coordinated disarray.
When I have finally found the room filled with toys
be banging on my crib excited by noise
Oh, how I’ll feel like a beautiful child
such a beautiful child again
Next: Want Two
Thursday, December 10, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 117: New Times
I got a machine and I took over the world
in one weekend
I did it because I was looking for a project
and it was either take over the world or learn french
so I took over the world
and next weekend I can learn french.
New Times - Violent Femmes
I got this album a few years after discovering and falling in love with the band’s self-titled album. My salient impression is that it’s the same, but very different. The styles are more diverse and adventurous, the subject matter more mature, but at its core it’s still very distinctly Violent Femmes. I like bands and musicians who are able to branch out without losing the unique characteristics that set them apart.
I don’t know if I have enough musical vocabulary (even after 116 of these reviews) to confidently say much about this album. It subverts expectations at almost every turn. It turns familiar tropes on their heads, but not in a way that looks parodic. A good example of what I’m trying to talk about is the song Key of 2, whose lyrics and music both tell a story about learning to love music that’s just... wrong, possibly due to the same exposure effect whereby an annoyance becomes beloved through repetition. “It’s the music of the future / and it will get to you.”
4 Seasons takes the very old motif of seasons that’s so common in classic romantic artwork, but plays with it in a punk style that makes it fresh and weird. I’m Nothing is a happy song about nihilism, and how could you possibly argue with that?
Machine is hardly even music - the words are spoken, the sounds (all electronic) have little in the way of melody, just well-orchestrated chaos. Yet it’s catchy and clever and I just love listening to it. I can’t imagine conveying the information in this song in any other format.
Overall I found the writing on this album far more intelligent and sophisticated than I ever expected. From the literary allusions in New Times and Agamemnon to the poignant international politics touched on in Jesus of Rio, there is just a lot to think about here.
I got a machine and I took over the world
but nothing changed
that wouldn’t be fair
Next: Want One
in one weekend
I did it because I was looking for a project
and it was either take over the world or learn french
so I took over the world
and next weekend I can learn french.
New Times - Violent Femmes
I got this album a few years after discovering and falling in love with the band’s self-titled album. My salient impression is that it’s the same, but very different. The styles are more diverse and adventurous, the subject matter more mature, but at its core it’s still very distinctly Violent Femmes. I like bands and musicians who are able to branch out without losing the unique characteristics that set them apart.
I don’t know if I have enough musical vocabulary (even after 116 of these reviews) to confidently say much about this album. It subverts expectations at almost every turn. It turns familiar tropes on their heads, but not in a way that looks parodic. A good example of what I’m trying to talk about is the song Key of 2, whose lyrics and music both tell a story about learning to love music that’s just... wrong, possibly due to the same exposure effect whereby an annoyance becomes beloved through repetition. “It’s the music of the future / and it will get to you.”
4 Seasons takes the very old motif of seasons that’s so common in classic romantic artwork, but plays with it in a punk style that makes it fresh and weird. I’m Nothing is a happy song about nihilism, and how could you possibly argue with that?
Machine is hardly even music - the words are spoken, the sounds (all electronic) have little in the way of melody, just well-orchestrated chaos. Yet it’s catchy and clever and I just love listening to it. I can’t imagine conveying the information in this song in any other format.
Overall I found the writing on this album far more intelligent and sophisticated than I ever expected. From the literary allusions in New Times and Agamemnon to the poignant international politics touched on in Jesus of Rio, there is just a lot to think about here.
I got a machine and I took over the world
but nothing changed
that wouldn’t be fair
Next: Want One
Monday, December 07, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 116: Violent Femmes
Violent Femmes - Violent Femmes
When I was a teenager, broke and wishing I could afford some new music, I happened to see this CD in the public trash can outside the local used record shop. I speculated that someone must have tried selling it to the shop, failed because it didn’t have its original liner notes, and threw it away instead. Never one to let perfectly good trash go to waste, I fished it out and discovered a new favorite band.
I had never heard of the Violent Femmes before, but I had heard one song on the album already: Blister in the Sun, which a group of kids had played at a church youth group talent show. That song has since become one of my favorites to sing at karaoke, and I suggest you try it as well, because the more breathy and uneven you are due to nervousness the more like the original you’ll sound. Plus it’s short, catchy, and repetitive.
Speaking of repetitive, the subjects and themes on this album are pretty narrow. The songs are almost all about the petty frustrations and simpleminded hungers of horny teenagers. And yet, they don’t sound at all like the emo bands that were popular in my youth, with their disproportioned rage and narcissism. They’re simplistic and rough and sincere, and very singable, but without the slightest trace of commercialism or pretense. And there is something deeply comforting about it. A part of me is still a petulant child with delusions of maturity, and listening to this album helps.
There seem to be no instruments all except for vocals, guitar, bass, and drums - the basic elements that a group of high schoolers might assemble in a garage in the hopes of achieving their dream of rockstardom. I don’t know if they nailed the garage-band aesthetic so perfectly because that’s what they were or if it was a calculated manipulation, but I don’t think I care because the result is just so enjoyable.
I will talk a little bit about my favorite song on the album, Add it Up, which I think of as a masterpiece expressing the continual disappointment and frustration that we all, every one of us, must face as a result of not living in a world catered to fulfilling our every desire.
why can’t I get just one screw
believe me I’d know what to do
but something won’t let me make love to you
The first few verses establish that, day after day, something is missing, and hints that something is eventually going to crack.
take a look now what at your boy has done
he’s walking around like he’s number one
he went downtown and he got him a gun
don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me
you know you’ve got my sympathy
but don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me
We live in a terrifying time, and as while everyone who cracks has some sick political or philosophical justification of what they’re doing, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a simpler explanation: all these frustrations and disappointments and perceived injustices just add up until the whole world needs to be punished. I don’t think it’s because life is any more fair for the people who aren’t spewing rage like a volcano. Something else is going on here, and I aim to figure it out.
Next: New Times
When I was a teenager, broke and wishing I could afford some new music, I happened to see this CD in the public trash can outside the local used record shop. I speculated that someone must have tried selling it to the shop, failed because it didn’t have its original liner notes, and threw it away instead. Never one to let perfectly good trash go to waste, I fished it out and discovered a new favorite band.
I had never heard of the Violent Femmes before, but I had heard one song on the album already: Blister in the Sun, which a group of kids had played at a church youth group talent show. That song has since become one of my favorites to sing at karaoke, and I suggest you try it as well, because the more breathy and uneven you are due to nervousness the more like the original you’ll sound. Plus it’s short, catchy, and repetitive.
Speaking of repetitive, the subjects and themes on this album are pretty narrow. The songs are almost all about the petty frustrations and simpleminded hungers of horny teenagers. And yet, they don’t sound at all like the emo bands that were popular in my youth, with their disproportioned rage and narcissism. They’re simplistic and rough and sincere, and very singable, but without the slightest trace of commercialism or pretense. And there is something deeply comforting about it. A part of me is still a petulant child with delusions of maturity, and listening to this album helps.
There seem to be no instruments all except for vocals, guitar, bass, and drums - the basic elements that a group of high schoolers might assemble in a garage in the hopes of achieving their dream of rockstardom. I don’t know if they nailed the garage-band aesthetic so perfectly because that’s what they were or if it was a calculated manipulation, but I don’t think I care because the result is just so enjoyable.
I will talk a little bit about my favorite song on the album, Add it Up, which I think of as a masterpiece expressing the continual disappointment and frustration that we all, every one of us, must face as a result of not living in a world catered to fulfilling our every desire.
why can’t I get just one screw
believe me I’d know what to do
but something won’t let me make love to you
The first few verses establish that, day after day, something is missing, and hints that something is eventually going to crack.
take a look now what at your boy has done
he’s walking around like he’s number one
he went downtown and he got him a gun
don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me
you know you’ve got my sympathy
but don’t shoot shoot shoot that thing at me
We live in a terrifying time, and as while everyone who cracks has some sick political or philosophical justification of what they’re doing, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a simpler explanation: all these frustrations and disappointments and perceived injustices just add up until the whole world needs to be punished. I don’t think it’s because life is any more fair for the people who aren’t spewing rage like a volcano. Something else is going on here, and I aim to figure it out.
Next: New Times
Thursday, December 03, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 115: Fear
Fear - Toad the Wet Sprocket
This is another of the handful of CDs that I got and barely listened to, if at all, for years until this review project forced me to actually play it all the way through. I picked it up from the dollar rack because I thought Toad the Wet Sprocket was a terrific name for a band, and I had vague memories of enjoying a few of their songs on the radio, but mostly because of the name. To this day I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a better band name.
My first impression of the music was that it’s mostly bland folk-influenced pop rock with vaguely poetic lyrics such as “Walk on the ocean / step on the stones / flesh becomes water / wood becomes bone.” It seemed all very positive and pseudo-spiritual to me. And I mostly held onto that notion until a few songs later when I heard “Take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down / until she stops screaming / take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down / until she stops breathing.”
From then on, I started to notice a distinctly dark and morbid bend to the words, which started to bleed over into the music as well. Yet it still manages to not be completely dismal. Maybe it’s the harmony or the way the voices blend with the instruments but even during the refrain that goes “Before you were born someone kicked in the door / you are not wanted here, stay back where you belong” sounds somehow uplifting.
My favorite song of the moment is Something to Say, if only for one couplet:
you can take me down, you can show me your home
not the place where you live but the place where you belong
Here’s to all of you for whom that might ring true.
Next: Violent Femmes
This is another of the handful of CDs that I got and barely listened to, if at all, for years until this review project forced me to actually play it all the way through. I picked it up from the dollar rack because I thought Toad the Wet Sprocket was a terrific name for a band, and I had vague memories of enjoying a few of their songs on the radio, but mostly because of the name. To this day I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a better band name.
My first impression of the music was that it’s mostly bland folk-influenced pop rock with vaguely poetic lyrics such as “Walk on the ocean / step on the stones / flesh becomes water / wood becomes bone.” It seemed all very positive and pseudo-spiritual to me. And I mostly held onto that notion until a few songs later when I heard “Take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down / until she stops screaming / take her arms and hold her down and hold her down and hold her down / until she stops breathing.”
From then on, I started to notice a distinctly dark and morbid bend to the words, which started to bleed over into the music as well. Yet it still manages to not be completely dismal. Maybe it’s the harmony or the way the voices blend with the instruments but even during the refrain that goes “Before you were born someone kicked in the door / you are not wanted here, stay back where you belong” sounds somehow uplifting.
My favorite song of the moment is Something to Say, if only for one couplet:
you can take me down, you can show me your home
not the place where you live but the place where you belong
Here’s to all of you for whom that might ring true.
Next: Violent Femmes
Monday, November 30, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 114: Aims
Aims - Vienna Teng
This album came out just after I started training for my first marathon, and like every other album I discovered during that time, my first experience of it was during a run. This artist, whose previous work consisted of a mix of fast and slow music tending toward ponderous and pensive themes and intellectual depth rather than the kind of simple upbeat sounds that are normally ideal for exercise, miraculously came out with an album of perfect long-distance running music just in time. There are a few slow songs, yes, but only just enough to provide a break from the constant bass-thumping that encourages speed and to remind me to pace myself for the long haul. And one of the slow ones, Breaking Light, manages to be both encouraging and relaxing, and joins the very short list of slow songs that I nevertheless like running to.
Aims did another thing too: proved that Inland Territory was not the sort of lightning that only strikes once, but marked a genuine shift in Vienna Teng’s musical style and quality, a shift that I like even as I still deeply appreciate her earlier work. It’s similar to Inland Territory in its open-minded experimenting with lots of different styles, and yoking genres with themes in ways that suggest some meaning to be explored. But the themes themselves are different. As the title suggests, I suspect that this album is about humanity’s various personal and collective goals, and our efforts to acheive them. (Yet another appropriate characteristic of running music.)
Some songs serve as precisely aimed political and social commentary, such as In the 99, which explores economic inequality in the language of the then-recent Occupy movement. There’s also the more subtle Hymn of Axciom, which borrows the aesthetics of religious chanting to deliver a chilling message about the pseudo-spiritual relationship we’ve developed with marketing algorithms.
But most of the album is more focused on personal and interpersonal subject matter. Things like love, determination, healing, family, and home. Not that these songs are any less grand in scale than the ones that address political themes. Landsailor uses imagery that suggests doing the impossible in a vaguely spiritual way, while Level Up is one of the most awe-inspiring “encouragement” songs I’ve ever heard (and the video is pretty awesome too).
And with this I must bid adeu to Vienna Teng and move on to someone much less familiar to me.
Next: Fear
This album came out just after I started training for my first marathon, and like every other album I discovered during that time, my first experience of it was during a run. This artist, whose previous work consisted of a mix of fast and slow music tending toward ponderous and pensive themes and intellectual depth rather than the kind of simple upbeat sounds that are normally ideal for exercise, miraculously came out with an album of perfect long-distance running music just in time. There are a few slow songs, yes, but only just enough to provide a break from the constant bass-thumping that encourages speed and to remind me to pace myself for the long haul. And one of the slow ones, Breaking Light, manages to be both encouraging and relaxing, and joins the very short list of slow songs that I nevertheless like running to.
Aims did another thing too: proved that Inland Territory was not the sort of lightning that only strikes once, but marked a genuine shift in Vienna Teng’s musical style and quality, a shift that I like even as I still deeply appreciate her earlier work. It’s similar to Inland Territory in its open-minded experimenting with lots of different styles, and yoking genres with themes in ways that suggest some meaning to be explored. But the themes themselves are different. As the title suggests, I suspect that this album is about humanity’s various personal and collective goals, and our efforts to acheive them. (Yet another appropriate characteristic of running music.)
Some songs serve as precisely aimed political and social commentary, such as In the 99, which explores economic inequality in the language of the then-recent Occupy movement. There’s also the more subtle Hymn of Axciom, which borrows the aesthetics of religious chanting to deliver a chilling message about the pseudo-spiritual relationship we’ve developed with marketing algorithms.
But most of the album is more focused on personal and interpersonal subject matter. Things like love, determination, healing, family, and home. Not that these songs are any less grand in scale than the ones that address political themes. Landsailor uses imagery that suggests doing the impossible in a vaguely spiritual way, while Level Up is one of the most awe-inspiring “encouragement” songs I’ve ever heard (and the video is pretty awesome too).
And with this I must bid adeu to Vienna Teng and move on to someone much less familiar to me.
Next: Fear
Monday, November 23, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 113: Inland Territory
Inland Territory - Vienna Teng
This album came out a year or so after I began counting Vienna Teng as one of my favorites, and I remember it as the moment when her music exploded in every stylistic and thematic direction and became much larger than her previous repertoire of genres and instruments. The core of the album is her signature intellectual, yet emotional, narrative style and arty piano aesthetic, but it pulls in new sounds from spooky atmospheric effects to orchestral accompaniment to folk styles to pots and pans used as percussion.
The expansion of the music is echoed by an expansion of the lyrical themes, with a literal world of topics covered, all to the furtherance of a central agenda: empathy. Now, this is my personal observation and interpretation; I’m not sure how well it syncs with the artist’s intended meaning. But this is my blog.
There are two types of songs on this album, and they are thematically complimentary. The first relates personal conflicts to global ones; the second relates global conflicts to personal ones. There is some overlap in some of the songs, which underscores the connections drawn in others. As I’ve said before, the personal is political.
Exemplifying the first time is Antebellum, whose title means “before the war” and whose words mourn the loss of harmony when a relationship is frought with fighting. The metaphors are taken directly from war imagary, and are echoed in the choice of instruments, while violins and pianos represent a classically romantic sound and a snare drum invokes the war aspect:
I know the borderlines we drew between us
keep the weapons down, keep the wounded safe
I know our antebellum innocense was
never meant to see the light of our armistice day
Other songs, like In Another Life and No Gringo, explicitly put the narrator (and by extension the listeners) in the shoes of people in vastly different circumstances in order to provoke empathy. In Another Life does so very directly by jumping from century to century, exploring the lives and deaths of past humans - not the significant historical figures we’ve all read about, but common folk, the laborers and soldiers and nameless teenage wives who have always made up the bulk of historical existence.
No Gringo makes things even more personal by taking a timeless but contemprory historical problem - immigration and anti-immigrant sentiment - and turns it on its head, asking the central question behind all instances of empathy: “What if it was you?” (Gringo is a Spanish slang term for a white person).
In Radio, the dichotomy between personal and global concerns is especially blurred, since it shuffles back and forth between the perspective of a victim of terror and someone hearing about it on the radio. It’s made clear that when we hear of others’ trajedies, we have a choice. We can empathize, and make their struggles our own... or we can change the station.
Besides being a goldmine of substantive meaning and intellectual stimulation, this album is also simply gorgeous. A few of the songs still send me into involuntary fits of sentimentality and tears, so effectively do they reach into my heart. The favorite of the day is Stray Italian Greyhound, which is all about a pessimist finding reason to feel optimistic. “What do I do when every no turns into maybe?” “This feeling calls for everything that I am not.”
Next: Aims
This album came out a year or so after I began counting Vienna Teng as one of my favorites, and I remember it as the moment when her music exploded in every stylistic and thematic direction and became much larger than her previous repertoire of genres and instruments. The core of the album is her signature intellectual, yet emotional, narrative style and arty piano aesthetic, but it pulls in new sounds from spooky atmospheric effects to orchestral accompaniment to folk styles to pots and pans used as percussion.
The expansion of the music is echoed by an expansion of the lyrical themes, with a literal world of topics covered, all to the furtherance of a central agenda: empathy. Now, this is my personal observation and interpretation; I’m not sure how well it syncs with the artist’s intended meaning. But this is my blog.
There are two types of songs on this album, and they are thematically complimentary. The first relates personal conflicts to global ones; the second relates global conflicts to personal ones. There is some overlap in some of the songs, which underscores the connections drawn in others. As I’ve said before, the personal is political.
Exemplifying the first time is Antebellum, whose title means “before the war” and whose words mourn the loss of harmony when a relationship is frought with fighting. The metaphors are taken directly from war imagary, and are echoed in the choice of instruments, while violins and pianos represent a classically romantic sound and a snare drum invokes the war aspect:
I know the borderlines we drew between us
keep the weapons down, keep the wounded safe
I know our antebellum innocense was
never meant to see the light of our armistice day
Other songs, like In Another Life and No Gringo, explicitly put the narrator (and by extension the listeners) in the shoes of people in vastly different circumstances in order to provoke empathy. In Another Life does so very directly by jumping from century to century, exploring the lives and deaths of past humans - not the significant historical figures we’ve all read about, but common folk, the laborers and soldiers and nameless teenage wives who have always made up the bulk of historical existence.
No Gringo makes things even more personal by taking a timeless but contemprory historical problem - immigration and anti-immigrant sentiment - and turns it on its head, asking the central question behind all instances of empathy: “What if it was you?” (Gringo is a Spanish slang term for a white person).
In Radio, the dichotomy between personal and global concerns is especially blurred, since it shuffles back and forth between the perspective of a victim of terror and someone hearing about it on the radio. It’s made clear that when we hear of others’ trajedies, we have a choice. We can empathize, and make their struggles our own... or we can change the station.
Besides being a goldmine of substantive meaning and intellectual stimulation, this album is also simply gorgeous. A few of the songs still send me into involuntary fits of sentimentality and tears, so effectively do they reach into my heart. The favorite of the day is Stray Italian Greyhound, which is all about a pessimist finding reason to feel optimistic. “What do I do when every no turns into maybe?” “This feeling calls for everything that I am not.”
Next: Aims
Thursday, November 19, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 112: Dreaming Through the Noise
Dreaming Through the Noise - Vienna Teng
Of all of Vienna Teng’s albums I like this one the least, which is to say, I love it quite a bit. A few of the songs that initially prompted me to seek out more by this artist are on this album, especially City Hall, another of those story-songs that sounds lovely but provides a satisfying “Aha!” when you pay attention and finally understand what’s going on. That said, several of the songs here are ones I never quite appreciated, although I may someday in the future. Songs like I Don’t Feel So Well and Transcontinental 1:30 A.M. don’t seem quite as interesting, either lyrically or musically. Plus the smoothe jazzyness of those songs just isn’t quite my style, so if it’s yours, maybe this will be your favorite of Vienna Teng’s albums.
1BR/1BA also has a jazzy style, but for some reason I like it. Perhaps it’s because it deals with a common situation, but not one commonly portrayed in song: moving into a new apartment, and all the little discomforts and adjustments as the place transforms from a laconic ad to a real place with walls and windows and a busted AC to, eventually, a home. “My upstairs neighbors are making sounds that I never want to hear / I hope they’re just moving furnature around and really liking their ideas.”
It also strikes me that this album is a tad darker than the others. All of them have sad songs, but this one doesn’t seem to put as much of a cheery face on them. The love songs all deal with some kind of separation from the beloved, some chasm that can’t quite been navigated, whether it’s of physical distance or mere ignorance. One song’s refrain says “I am nothing without you / but I don’t know who you are.”
Even the mostly-joyful City Hall must end by confronting the possibility of loss: “If they take it away again someday...”
Next: Inland Territory
Of all of Vienna Teng’s albums I like this one the least, which is to say, I love it quite a bit. A few of the songs that initially prompted me to seek out more by this artist are on this album, especially City Hall, another of those story-songs that sounds lovely but provides a satisfying “Aha!” when you pay attention and finally understand what’s going on. That said, several of the songs here are ones I never quite appreciated, although I may someday in the future. Songs like I Don’t Feel So Well and Transcontinental 1:30 A.M. don’t seem quite as interesting, either lyrically or musically. Plus the smoothe jazzyness of those songs just isn’t quite my style, so if it’s yours, maybe this will be your favorite of Vienna Teng’s albums.
1BR/1BA also has a jazzy style, but for some reason I like it. Perhaps it’s because it deals with a common situation, but not one commonly portrayed in song: moving into a new apartment, and all the little discomforts and adjustments as the place transforms from a laconic ad to a real place with walls and windows and a busted AC to, eventually, a home. “My upstairs neighbors are making sounds that I never want to hear / I hope they’re just moving furnature around and really liking their ideas.”
It also strikes me that this album is a tad darker than the others. All of them have sad songs, but this one doesn’t seem to put as much of a cheery face on them. The love songs all deal with some kind of separation from the beloved, some chasm that can’t quite been navigated, whether it’s of physical distance or mere ignorance. One song’s refrain says “I am nothing without you / but I don’t know who you are.”
Even the mostly-joyful City Hall must end by confronting the possibility of loss: “If they take it away again someday...”
Next: Inland Territory
Monday, November 16, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 111: Waking Hour
Waking Hour - Vienna Teng
Like Warm Strangers, this Vienna Teng album is full of lovely songs that each tells a story. They’re good stories, too; many of them are love songs, but with a psychological complexity that’s lacking in a lot of love songs these days. There’s also an intellectual side; this is the album that led me to conclude that Vienna Teng is a master at melding scientific fact with emotional truth, using each as a metaphor for the other. For instance, in songs like Gravity and Momentum, physical forces are used as metaphors for emotional drives. After all these years, I am convinced Momentum is about, among other things, depression: “All I’m asking is to be alive for once.”
Others have more of a narrative style, and really are stories in a more literal sense. Say Uncle tells the story of a family rallying together in the face of loss. Decade and One has its narrator reflecting on her past and life path. Enough to Go By is so compellingly evocative of both past experience and future hopes and dreams that it has become a dear favorite of mine:
I’m at your back door with the earth of a hundred nations in my skin
you won’t recognize me, for the light in my eyes is strange
it was years ago, God knows, when you strained to tell me your whole truth
that you wer enot mine to save, that you could not change
would it be enough to go by
if we could sail on the wind in the dark
cut those chains in the middle of the night
that had you pulled apart
would it be enough to go by
if there’s moonlight pulling the tide
would it be enough to live on
if my love could keep you alive
But my favorite song on the album is Eric’s Song, one of those complex love songs, and one that has probably influenced my own values and ideals about romantic love in general. I would select an exerpt of its lyrics to demonstrate this point, but I find that none of the verses can really stand to be taken out of context.
Next: Dreaming Through the Noise
Like Warm Strangers, this Vienna Teng album is full of lovely songs that each tells a story. They’re good stories, too; many of them are love songs, but with a psychological complexity that’s lacking in a lot of love songs these days. There’s also an intellectual side; this is the album that led me to conclude that Vienna Teng is a master at melding scientific fact with emotional truth, using each as a metaphor for the other. For instance, in songs like Gravity and Momentum, physical forces are used as metaphors for emotional drives. After all these years, I am convinced Momentum is about, among other things, depression: “All I’m asking is to be alive for once.”
Others have more of a narrative style, and really are stories in a more literal sense. Say Uncle tells the story of a family rallying together in the face of loss. Decade and One has its narrator reflecting on her past and life path. Enough to Go By is so compellingly evocative of both past experience and future hopes and dreams that it has become a dear favorite of mine:
I’m at your back door with the earth of a hundred nations in my skin
you won’t recognize me, for the light in my eyes is strange
it was years ago, God knows, when you strained to tell me your whole truth
that you wer enot mine to save, that you could not change
would it be enough to go by
if we could sail on the wind in the dark
cut those chains in the middle of the night
that had you pulled apart
would it be enough to go by
if there’s moonlight pulling the tide
would it be enough to live on
if my love could keep you alive
But my favorite song on the album is Eric’s Song, one of those complex love songs, and one that has probably influenced my own values and ideals about romantic love in general. I would select an exerpt of its lyrics to demonstrate this point, but I find that none of the verses can really stand to be taken out of context.
Next: Dreaming Through the Noise
Thursday, November 12, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 110: Warm Strangers
Warm Strangers - Vienna Teng
Vienna Teng was one of the first artists that I became aware of mainly through Pandora Radio, when her song Daughter came up on my station, along with a few others. I shared my new discovery with a friend - the same friend who introduced me to the likes of October Project and Sufjan Stevens - and we both fell in love with Vienna Teng’s delicious songwriting, voice, and piano. She was the first of us to make the plunge by buying Warm Strangers, and for the next year or so we took turns buying albums and sharing them with one another. In time, I took it upon myself to buy legitimate copies of each of them for myself.
I think the song that initially drew me to this album is Hope on Fire, which has become one of the iconic songs of my life, representing every person who has ever gotten fed up with the status quo and set out, with nothing but the determination and the knowledge that it’s the right thing to do, to make a change.
When describing Teng to strangers, I usually say that each of her songs tells a story. Sometimes the story is very clearly and straightforwardly told, as in Shasta:
So far so good
You're coming to the bend at the end of the road
You put a hand to the belly that's foreign more
With every day like an oversize load
And so on. Others are more opaque in describing their central characters and events, but it’s clear that some story is there behind the figurative language. A favorite example is My Medea, obviously a mythology reference but otherwise quite mysterious in its words. Is the narrator of the story the mythical Medea herself, her husband Jason, or someone else who played a role in her tragic life? Or is the name Medea just used here to invoke a sense of destructive love and jealousy?
Either way I love this song. The instrumental swelling behind the verse that says “So come to me my love / I’ll tap into your strength and drain it dry / can never have enough / for you I’d burn the length and breadth of sky” is so stirring that I will never tire of it. There are more than a few songs on this album that I could listen to over and over.
This is one of those albums for which I could probably write at least a paragraph about each song, and this review would stretch on for several pages. But I will leave this here, for I have a few more Vienna Teng albums to get to before this is over.
Next: Waking Hour
Vienna Teng was one of the first artists that I became aware of mainly through Pandora Radio, when her song Daughter came up on my station, along with a few others. I shared my new discovery with a friend - the same friend who introduced me to the likes of October Project and Sufjan Stevens - and we both fell in love with Vienna Teng’s delicious songwriting, voice, and piano. She was the first of us to make the plunge by buying Warm Strangers, and for the next year or so we took turns buying albums and sharing them with one another. In time, I took it upon myself to buy legitimate copies of each of them for myself.
I think the song that initially drew me to this album is Hope on Fire, which has become one of the iconic songs of my life, representing every person who has ever gotten fed up with the status quo and set out, with nothing but the determination and the knowledge that it’s the right thing to do, to make a change.
When describing Teng to strangers, I usually say that each of her songs tells a story. Sometimes the story is very clearly and straightforwardly told, as in Shasta:
So far so good
You're coming to the bend at the end of the road
You put a hand to the belly that's foreign more
With every day like an oversize load
And so on. Others are more opaque in describing their central characters and events, but it’s clear that some story is there behind the figurative language. A favorite example is My Medea, obviously a mythology reference but otherwise quite mysterious in its words. Is the narrator of the story the mythical Medea herself, her husband Jason, or someone else who played a role in her tragic life? Or is the name Medea just used here to invoke a sense of destructive love and jealousy?
Either way I love this song. The instrumental swelling behind the verse that says “So come to me my love / I’ll tap into your strength and drain it dry / can never have enough / for you I’d burn the length and breadth of sky” is so stirring that I will never tire of it. There are more than a few songs on this album that I could listen to over and over.
This is one of those albums for which I could probably write at least a paragraph about each song, and this review would stretch on for several pages. But I will leave this here, for I have a few more Vienna Teng albums to get to before this is over.
Next: Waking Hour
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
All My CDs, pt 109 - 200 km/h In the Wrong Lane
200 km/h in the Wrong Lane - t.A.T.u.
I was surprised and a little embarrassed a few days ago when I discovered that this CD is still in my collection after well over a decade. Like my Linkin Park CDs, I liked it for a while when I was a teenager, but that fondness has not endured into my adulthood and I have since come to regard it with a kind of shame. I can never really escape the knowledge that even as kids these days are fawning over inane and overcommercialized pop music, in my adolescence I fawned over the same sort of claptrap myself.
When I started playing this album once again, I was expecting to feel more of that shame. Instead, I found myself enjoying it, and cranking it up on my car stereo until it could probably be heard half a block away while I drummed along on my steering wheel. It’s catchy techno dance music with angsty lyrics about star-crossed love affairs - perfect teenager fare. I don’t know whether this stuff will ever go out of style.
When I was young I was especially fond of bilingual musicians. For a few years I think I harbored a delusion that I could learn Spanish by listening to Shakira. While that didn’t turn out to be true, while listening to t.A.T.u. I found myself reminded not of my high school years when I bought and enjoyed the album, but my first year of college and my Russian class. Words and phrases that I’d forgotten jumped out at me from the songs. I even remembered mentioning the Russian version of the song’s hit single - All The Things She Said, or Ya Soshla S Uma - when my teacher taught us that idiomatic phrase.
To this day, I prefer that particular song in Russian. Perhaps the language just sounds more exotic and pleasing to my ears, or perhaps it’s easier to ignore the cliches when they’re sung in a language I’m only passingly familiar with.
My favorite song on the album, both then and now, is Malchik Gay. Partly because despite its lyrics being just as angsty as the rest, it manages to be the most cheerful-sounding song on the album, partly because it’s a techno song prominently featuring an unaltered acoustic guitar. It also amuses me to realize what counted as “edgy” in pop music back in 2002.
I enjoyed listening to this CD for the past few days, but I don’t know if I ever will again.
Next: Warm Strangers
I was surprised and a little embarrassed a few days ago when I discovered that this CD is still in my collection after well over a decade. Like my Linkin Park CDs, I liked it for a while when I was a teenager, but that fondness has not endured into my adulthood and I have since come to regard it with a kind of shame. I can never really escape the knowledge that even as kids these days are fawning over inane and overcommercialized pop music, in my adolescence I fawned over the same sort of claptrap myself.
When I started playing this album once again, I was expecting to feel more of that shame. Instead, I found myself enjoying it, and cranking it up on my car stereo until it could probably be heard half a block away while I drummed along on my steering wheel. It’s catchy techno dance music with angsty lyrics about star-crossed love affairs - perfect teenager fare. I don’t know whether this stuff will ever go out of style.
When I was young I was especially fond of bilingual musicians. For a few years I think I harbored a delusion that I could learn Spanish by listening to Shakira. While that didn’t turn out to be true, while listening to t.A.T.u. I found myself reminded not of my high school years when I bought and enjoyed the album, but my first year of college and my Russian class. Words and phrases that I’d forgotten jumped out at me from the songs. I even remembered mentioning the Russian version of the song’s hit single - All The Things She Said, or Ya Soshla S Uma - when my teacher taught us that idiomatic phrase.
To this day, I prefer that particular song in Russian. Perhaps the language just sounds more exotic and pleasing to my ears, or perhaps it’s easier to ignore the cliches when they’re sung in a language I’m only passingly familiar with.
My favorite song on the album, both then and now, is Malchik Gay. Partly because despite its lyrics being just as angsty as the rest, it manages to be the most cheerful-sounding song on the album, partly because it’s a techno song prominently featuring an unaltered acoustic guitar. It also amuses me to realize what counted as “edgy” in pop music back in 2002.
I enjoyed listening to this CD for the past few days, but I don’t know if I ever will again.
Next: Warm Strangers
Thursday, November 05, 2015
All My CDs, pt. 108: Imperfect Harmonies
Imperfect Harmonies - Serj Tankian
Some time after Elect the Dead, I discovered that Serj Tankian had released another solo album, and immediately jumped at the opportunity to buy it. The first time I put it on, the first note of the first song startled me out of my skin; it seemed that every instrument that ever existed had joined together in unison to blast a hole through my consciousness. If nothing else, just listen to the first few measures of Disowned, Inc; you’ll hopefully see what I mean.
The awesomeness of this album is such that it almost overshadowed the awesomeness of its predecessor. For a time I neglected Elect the Dead, although writing my last review had the effect of making me appreciate it a lot more. I still think Imperfect Harmonies is the better album, but it’s a short distance between them, and I love both quite a lot.
What is it about this album? About Serj Tankian in general? It’s hard to find words that I haven’t already said, and that don’t sound like mere adulative blather. The lyrics are more poetic. The music is more grand and far-reaching. And I consider it a treat to hear Yes, It’s Genocide, sung in Armenian, which so poignantly highlights the Armenian genocide and all other genocides throughout history.
The song that follows it, Peace Be Revenged, is one of the most thoughtful and powerful inditements of modern society I have ever encountered in song form. Several other songs are fair contenders as well, such as Borders Are...
Borders are the gallows
of our collective national egos
subjective lines in sand
in the water separating everything
Fear is the cause of separation
Backed with illicit conversations
Procured by constant condemnations
National blood-painted persuasions
It’s true that the words can sound a bit preachy, but as they say, some anvils need to be dropped. And as I’ve explained before, sometimes I like my sociopolitical commentary to be blatant and unabashed. In my next review, something else will be blatant and unabashed.
Next: 200 km/h in the Wrong Lane
Some time after Elect the Dead, I discovered that Serj Tankian had released another solo album, and immediately jumped at the opportunity to buy it. The first time I put it on, the first note of the first song startled me out of my skin; it seemed that every instrument that ever existed had joined together in unison to blast a hole through my consciousness. If nothing else, just listen to the first few measures of Disowned, Inc; you’ll hopefully see what I mean.
The awesomeness of this album is such that it almost overshadowed the awesomeness of its predecessor. For a time I neglected Elect the Dead, although writing my last review had the effect of making me appreciate it a lot more. I still think Imperfect Harmonies is the better album, but it’s a short distance between them, and I love both quite a lot.
What is it about this album? About Serj Tankian in general? It’s hard to find words that I haven’t already said, and that don’t sound like mere adulative blather. The lyrics are more poetic. The music is more grand and far-reaching. And I consider it a treat to hear Yes, It’s Genocide, sung in Armenian, which so poignantly highlights the Armenian genocide and all other genocides throughout history.
The song that follows it, Peace Be Revenged, is one of the most thoughtful and powerful inditements of modern society I have ever encountered in song form. Several other songs are fair contenders as well, such as Borders Are...
Borders are the gallows
of our collective national egos
subjective lines in sand
in the water separating everything
Fear is the cause of separation
Backed with illicit conversations
Procured by constant condemnations
National blood-painted persuasions
It’s true that the words can sound a bit preachy, but as they say, some anvils need to be dropped. And as I’ve explained before, sometimes I like my sociopolitical commentary to be blatant and unabashed. In my next review, something else will be blatant and unabashed.
Next: 200 km/h in the Wrong Lane
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