skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Whining is intolerable. Especially whining about the state of your heart as a stand-in for emotional distress, not an actual medical condition. Unless you put it to a backing track that soars and swells with the verve of a heart that functions just fine (with bells even). Irony or fakery — you tell me.
One Stanley deserves another. And another dark corner of the room, long exhalations, etc. Another way to fabricate the small hours. I see no reason to pick up the pace today. And I will make every attempt to burrow into these piano chords.
It's great to get away. Essential, refreshing, re-energizing, but never enough. Time away just reinforces the reality of what you're getting away from. And so you end up staring down the last few moments before returning to your day-to-day. Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy for the day-to-day I get to have today. But still there is a blueness, telegraphed in a face that stuggles to keep its muscles relaxed while concealing anxiety over rejoining its familiar environment. Which makes this as good a time as any to give oneself fully over to the near-ridiculous nitetime soul jazz cues of Mr. Turrentine. Ten minutes to convince you that you are the suave devil you could never really be.
Stanley Turrentine - Sugar
They're not letting me go without a struggle. The powers that be seem intent to keep the stress on until the last minute. Not that I absolve myself of internalizing the frantic vibes in the air. Which I appreciate in a song like this, though not necessarily in life situations. But forget all that panic for now. I'm headed out for vacation, and this track can double as my getaway soundtrack. Meanwhile, I'm going to try desperately not to allow this terrifying album cover to take up space in my mind. See you back around Memorial Day.
I can feel it coming...vacation time, that is! My brain has already begun to climb out of the head that sits atop a neck knotted with stupid stresses. It has gotten on the plane and is now doing a little dance over the Atlantic, accompanied by this tune, and damn right is singing along with every note of scatting that starts at 2:50. Can't wait for the rest of me to catch up.
Oh hypnagogic wonderland/nightmarescape. It's almost too easy to fall lifelessly into its arms, so specific is the pull of the repeat-play-damaged Betamax quease. When sensory overload is your square one, how can adult terrors not feel a little anticlimactic.
What's your punk rock? Lifestyle toys aside, you've got what you bob your head to, and that pounding needs no cherry on top. Which takes the thing outside of time and genre. Just a few basic moments of intense momentum. Maybe it's a barely articulate paean to your hometown. Maybe it's something even dumber. Here's a possible template.
Sometimes I wish I was living a life where the approaching Friday sunset promised a world transformed. A license to expel accumulated tensions. Or an identity taken out on short loan with a nasty interest rate. If I did, the first moments breathing that air would sound a lot like this.
It's the nature of music scenes to come and go. For improvising musicians, the last thing you'd expect is for them to linger too long in proven configurations. It's sad to see things dissipate, but that's what makes the moments meaningful. As long as the gigs keeps coming, I'm all for moving on to the next thing. Which made it fun to catch this trio a few weeks back, reunited after about a decade, picking up right in the groove where they left off. For an evening anyway.
Going deeper into Tangerine Dream's soundtracking heyday and finding more and more to love. I remember being disturbed by Firestarter as a kid, and yet the musical cues made no lasting impression. Funny how serene, gauzy, and un-fiery these themes are. And yet, they do capture the spookiness of a kid with destructive supernatural powers.
Yikes, pardon the lack of 'blague prolificness! Let's put it down to a mix of distraction, fatigue, and selectivity. Not sure if the pace will pick up, but at any rate, I'll aim to double up on quality — as I define it, at least.
Here's one from a band whose stunning pop nuggetry made its way onto this space a good while back. I finally got ahold of their first 2 full albums proper, and I do heartily recommend. No shortage of pop, and no lack of interesting twists. Case in point. Starts off like the end of a long day, and then suddenly backs it up to a peppy morning with a heart made of pure gold. As a side note, I applaud the lack of guitars (monstrous or otherwise) on a tune so titled.
