Today's Thought on Fear

It's no secret to me- I thrive much better with my back to the wall. Forced into situations where I have to execute with no safety net, I tend to think that my record speaks pretty well for me.

White knuckled optimism is always nice but nothing beats work, yeah?

Without the uhh... motivation of complete failure or death, I can slide into slovenly laziness pretty rapidly. I know this. My attention span turns crappy pretty quickly and I lose interest... I know, I know.

The rub, however, is that anything that requires a safety net usually requires lots of practice. Which, even though I suck at it, I still try to maintain. Furthermore, even though there's a net, it doesn't mean I don't hurt myself getting there.

And maybe this makes sense or it doesn't, but this is how I'm looking at the last year of my life:

It's time to remove the nets, man.

and then... twenty ten

Wow. Anybody else notice that we're, like, almost halfway through this year? I reiterate. Wow.

So then. Maybe I've been a leeeeetle busy. 2010 in a nutshell.

I went to DC to hang out with my brother and his lovely, lovely wife who, despite our warnings, married into the family anyways. We're lucky to have her. A short excursion into Baltimore was made where we watched Devotchka open for Gogol Bordello. Whiskey was poured later. Three out of four heads passed out on the drive back home. It was good. And for once, my flight home was not delayed. Score one for me.

Some people got married. Parties were thrown. Drinks were imbibed. Cake happened. Dancing happened. Later, in the fall, some more people will get married. I will be forcibly involved, but thankfully at this moment, not be the one getting married. WashRinseRepeat.

Then...

The Beginning of this month saw me return to the stage in a manner of speaking. At the request of one very astonishing Jacqueline Garcia, I helped her hammer out some text to accompany her latest show The Dust Vignettes- Four Tales of an Immaculate Heart. Then we pulled Tyler in to do the acting in what basically amounted to a one man show interspersed in a dance show. They were all phenomenal. And while I've said that at the beginning its not how I would have chosen to do things, I can honestly say at the end of the day that I wouldn't choose any other way for things to have gone.

And now we're more than halfway through June. Which means I've been slavishly devoted to the NBA Championships. I was asked earlier who my favorite team is. When pressed, I'd probably have to go with Barkley's Suns. They were great. Beyond that, its whoever plays with the most heart and the most game. Asking me to choose a favorite ball club is like asking me to choose a favorite band. That being said, it was incredible to see the Celtics play this post season. Every single time they were counted out of contention, they came back to prove the doubters wrong. They were like some freakish force of raving hardwood id. I hope they're back next year because the way those finals ended... just didn't cut it for me. I won't even get into my colossal distaste for the Lakers. It's not fair to the world at large. We have bigger things to worry over.

Like World Cup Soccer. The US is sooo close. Even with what was patently diseastrous officiating in our match with Slovenia. Ok. I'm leaving it alone.

Tomorrow, I'm going to see the Cowboy Junkies at the NHCC. July will see me in Santa Fe for the Hold Steady and again at the end of August for Ray Lamontagne and David Grey. That should all be really exciting. And as much as I hope to get into the last few month's adventures in more detail, I hope I'm on point enough to write about what's coming up as well.

That being said, I'll be posting a look at the upcoming Hold Steady show with suggestions to my comrades in arms as to what songs to listen to in preparation. Feel free to toss your own thoughts my way. At the very least, it should provide for interesting discourse.

What RadioFreePennington is jamming today: the Class of '10-
Lustre by Ed Harcourt, HeadFirst by Goldfrapp, This is Happening by LCDSoundsystem, Heaven is Whenever by the Hold Steady, TransContinental Hustle by Gogol Bordello, Of the Blue Colour of the Sky by OkGo and Tonight by Franz Ferdinand (I know its 2009 but I just got it and far prefer it so far to You Could Have It So Much Better).

Put that in your pipe and playlist it.

i used to know you

Of the other things floating around in my brain, I've felt myself somewhat craving Albuquerque rock more than usual lately. Polyester Blues by Oh, Ranger! has always been a favorite. Ditto for Tedious Bliss by Feels Like Sunday. I've even been thinking about digging up some Hollis Wake to listen to. I miss these bands. Not quite like I miss being 22 but awfully damn close. And it makes me sad because I have to wonder:

Whatever Happened to All of These Guys?

miss you all.

namaste

Like everyone else on the planet, I have thoughts about LOST. With every apology in the world to one of my best mates, I'm glad its over. There's a certain beauty to finality. To be able to step back, wipe your brow and whistle, "Sure glad we survived that," that's a beautiful thing.



But was it any good? Glad you asked.



Because, while I would hate to get writerly on anyone, the finale stirred up thoughts on the craft for me more than anything else. Yes, there were plot threads left dangling so negligently that OSHA inspectors everywhere are spontaneously bursting into flame. We don't know what [insert your biggest nagging question on what the island is or how it works here] is and now we never will. Losties will be arguing over the more vague elements of this show's mythology for years to come.

And I'm okay with this. I don't need to know every single why there is out there. Life comes at a pretty fast clip for all of us and most of the time, we don't get an explanation as to how or why. What defines us and our character is how we react to that. And in that light, I thought the finale was pretty damn resonant emotionally.* Had they left characters dangling, I might be singin a different tune.

Of course, if we're being honest, I am an admitted David Lynch fan. And, if nothing else, that's taught me that the questions are and always will be far more important than the answers.

A True Devotchka

Back from a week's vacation. And now back to work. Which means I won't be able to blog the last week's happenings for a few more days. Instead, I leave you this shot from a Gogol Bordello + Devotchka + Jesse Malin show in Baltimore.

picture by Aaron Pennington

That Space Between Your Ears

I don't know that I realized until this year just how important it is to have the space and time to yourself just to think. To be left alone with nothing but your thoughts, your noise, your static- it's become very premium to me. I'd always heard how important it was, but never felt it until this year. Maybe, because, in the past I had all the time in the world. At least, that's how it seemed. But the demands of 2010 seem to have piled up faster than I can account for and even though I have no idea how I'll do it, I know that I will do it. That, I tell myself, is what the stimulants are for. That... and the wordy juice.

dancing in my head

When I write, I often start by listening to music. It lets my mind drift off to the far unknown reaches of my subconscious. Music does this thing in my brain, mind you, it's almost like it flips on a projector. And oftentimes, it plays out like scenes from a movie in my head. Sometimes, it's horrible. Earlier today, I imagined the transgendered Bob Dylan that is Cate Blanchett singing "I Wanna Be Your Lover, Baby" to a man. (And it wasn't sensational, it was Shakespeare, mannnn...) And sometimes, it's scenes from a movie on some alternate planet.

I used to aid this with the help of a tasty beverage- usually Jameson, cola and lime. I call it a Boston Rush (all the trainspotters in my life know why). I don't do this as much as I used to. Empty bottles of Canadian Club and Segrams strewn about your workspace only works for so long. But I always enjoyed the process of throwing monkey wrenches into the mental process and seeing what sort of darwinistic germs rose to the surface. The pure, the true ideas, I figured would float to the surface and present themselves cause if ever they were gonna make a jailbreak, this was it.

I don't use these methodologies like I used to. Work and life and relationships don't allow it. Time is at a premium and until I get paid to do this for a living, it's going to continue to be this way. I won't lie. Some nights, I really miss it.

But know that tonight, I am blasted and obliviously dancing away on some crappy underground dancefloor in Berlin somewhere where the dj is playing crappy American lo-fi techno- even if only in my head.

exodus interuptus

I swear it, I'm almost out of the desert here. I know it's been a looong time since I posted anything but the time off has been healthy, positive and productive. Things are to be wrapped up on This Is Not a Love Song by Kent vs Pennington soon, with other projects to be announced. One of which should bring me back to the stage in some form or another.

Lots of good new music around the corner including Gogol Bordello, LCD Soundsystem and the Holdsteady, all of whom have new records arriving soon. There will be a Cowboy Junkies show at the National Hispanic Cultural Center and hopefully something at the Santa Fe opera that I'll talk about when I do or don't get tickets.

Lots of thoughts going on in regards to how I want to comport myself with this blog when it does actually return. Since the virtual ghosting of MySpace, there's no reason to really blog there other than storage. And while I haven't been blogging lately, I do miss the speaking out loud of things no person should say sort of quality to it. So I'm expecting to do more ramblage damage around here real soon, of a more varied and possibly personal nature.

And like everything else I've typed on this keyboard tonight, I've used a lot of words to say not much indefinitely. I'm officially ridiculous. Goodnight, teenyboppers, it's way past your bedtime.

Things I Wouldn't Mind...

Having a new post or two up next week covering sides 3 & 4 of the Sandinista Project.

Ruminative pieces, possibly on No Doubt and/or Third Eye Blind (as the digital device holding all my notes on both of those shows this year has completely and totally crashed with no hopes of recovery).

Not having to go into oral surgery in less than two days.

Oh well, let's see what sort of word magic we can turn out in the next few days, yeah?

In the meantime, I'm curious. I've been pondering what songs will define this year for me as the year crosses over into a new calender.

What's the soundtrack of your life this year?

Please. Don't be shy and do tell me.

Breaking Down the Sandinista! Project; pt. 3 Side 2

"Seeking Out a Rhythm That Could Take the Tension On..."


TRACK 1:
"Rebel Waltz"
The Clash vs. Ruby on the Vine

-Take 1:
I remember the first time I listened to this song. I hated it. It meanders aimlessly amidst all the dreadful guitar noodling from Mick Jones. And then there's all that warbly dub reverb... Don't even start me on that... And where are the damn Clash guitars that we all showed up for anyways? I think then I started skipping to tracks like "the Leader" or "Police on my Back." Then, eventually, I started to forget skipping it altogether as I got used to it and found myself digging on the... uh... waltz time. Now, listening to it in a new light (for me, anyhow) as the first song on what was/is side 2, it's sequencing starts to make sense. The opening, at first seeming over indulgent, takes on a newfound majesty as I imagine what it's like to flip the record over, drop the needle and wait in anticipation. More than anything, I find myself digging into Joe Strummer's lyrics as he dreams of humanity amidst a horror like civil war.

-Take 2:
Ruby on the Vine's bluegrass interpretation of the song showcases Strummer's lyrics more adroitly and articulately then he ever could. Besides being free of Strummer's adenoidal delivery, the song is stripped down to its basics and played straightforward without the hindrance of a dub mix and the sonic calamity that can ensue. Musically speaking, the effort is technically sound but does little to burn down any barns. What makes it shine, however, is the warmth and whistfulness of vocalist Myrna Marcarian.

WIN GOES TO:
While it's always great to listen to Strummer in his element, I think the win has to go to Ruby on the Vine here. If only for the sonic clarity and gravitas they bring to the song.


Track 2:
"Look Here"
The Clash vs. Jim Duffy

-Take 1:
Going back and taking a renewed and reinvigorated look at Sandinista as a whole has revealed a lot of old prejudices and new insights as to why they exist. And personally, I've come to the conclusion that side 2 may be one of the biggest hindrances to set as a whole. At least, taken as a two cd set. Side 1 shows the Clash at their sprawling and overreaching best. A hot mess, to be sure. Side 2, kicking off with "Rebel Waltz" and following up with "Look Here," quickly sapped any and all interest until I got to the parts with the songs I knew from Clash on Broadway. Just horrible, I know. With the not quite scatting vocals of "Look Here," this song comes off as just a tad bit overcooked and never sure where it wants to go. Again, my teenage self wanted to know where those Clash guitars were...

-Take 2:
Of course, then again, there's this take here by Jim Duffy. Which I kinda happen to love. Again, the Clash are outmastered with a quarter century's worth of hindsight and a knack to keep it traditional. In their own time, the Clash were thought of as being politically and musically progressive, a hodgepodge of ideas (none of which were all that new) thrown into one pot and poured out as a miscegenation of what the future could be if all were willing. They should be forgiven for occasionally overreaching their grasp if some of their songs didn't work. Here, quite simply, Jim Duffy makes the song a hot one by just keeping it simple.

WIN GOES TO:
Jim Duffy for keeping it simple, traditional and swingin'. Although, much like "Rebel Waltz," re-examining the music has brought a new found appreciation to the original.


Track 3:
"The Crooked Beat"
The Clash vs. Wreckless Eric

-Take 1:
Cynically, it's hard to imagine this song as much more than "Guns of Brixton, mk. II." But if the band's insistent dabbling with dub was going to work for anyone in the group, it would have to be bassist Paul Simonon. The song's spare arrangement turns out to be more of a success than most of the album's attempts at dub as Simonon sounds like he's finally finding his stride. Once again, Simonon showed the world who the real reggae afficionado in punk rock was.

-Take 2:
The difference's between Simonon's original and Wreckless Eric's cover are diminuitive, at best. In fact, if nothing else, it should be said that Wreckless Eric manages to keep all the essential pieces that make the interpretation a faithful one; especially that bassline. But by turning up the guitars, even if only barely, he manages to make the song his own at the same time. The dub mix used here keeps it minimal for the most part except when tweaking the occasional reverb effect up to an absurd level.

WIN GOES TO:
One of Wreckless Eric's largest boons on this song is that he doesn't (as if anyone ever does) sound like Paul Simonon. Even then, win goes to the Clash... 'cause it's Paul Simonon.


Track 4:
"Somebody Got Murdered"
the Clash vs. Matthew Ryan

-Take 1:
Easily, this is the best song on this side and definitely one of the best of the whole record. At one moment, this song typifies everything that was ever great about the Clash: great songwriting by Mick Jones, his guitarwork and arrangement held up dynamically by Topper Headon and the humanist poetry of Joe Strummer riding over the top. At the same time, it manages to sound completely different from everything else that they had recorded. Sonically, it carries itself with an ambiance seldom heard in the Clash. In fact, I would go so far as to say that this song is the blueprint for more than a fair share of the college/alternative music that would arrive by the end of the decade. Sonically, they manage to come up with a sound that is anthemic enough for use in the cinema but at the same time human enough that it packs a wallop on any record that it graces. One could almost say that this is the blueprint for every U2 song from the Joshua Tree onward. And I most definitely mean that as a compliment, which makes the Clash's eventual crash and burn all the sadder for me. Ultimately, the song's a good blueprint to follow with Jones plaintively singing a Strummer tale about random violence and the moral ambiguity that follows.

-Take 2:
If the Clash laid down the blueprint for the post new-wave college/alternative music of the late 80's and early 90's, then Matthew Ryan has taken the song and molded it into its late 90's early 00's spawn. Ryan's take turns away from the original's sense of sonic adventure and instead focuses on the solid structure of Mick Jone's tunesmith work. By doing so, he highlights both the plaintive and melodic nature of Strummer's contribution and makes it work with his raspy baritone. Ultimately, it embodies the best of post grunge work by bands like Pearl Jam- all song, no bombast.

WIN GOES TO:
The Clash for coming up with the blueprint to almost every record I've ever loved. I still feel giddy when that wall of guitar noise kicks in at 24 seconds.


Track 5:
"One More Time"
the Clash vs. Haale vs. Ted Harris

-Take 1:
Despite featuring one of the few lyrics in which Joe Strummer's humanist reach exceeds it's grasp, this song still manages to succeed for some reason. Unlike Simonon compositions like "Guns of Brixton" or "the Crooked Beat," which often seem to ride the songwriter's hipster coattails, this song is more akin to the apocalyptic "Armagideon Times," the explosive "White Man (in Hammersmith Palais)" or the grandiose but misguided "Bankrobber." That is to say, this song embodies a dark, funky, paranoid sort of skank that only the Clash could ever pull off. It manages to be urgent but listenable despite Strummer's daft metaphors and loosely connected truisms.

-Take 2:
The largest problem I have with Haale's take on this song is probably what would make any and every other composition she touches brilliant. Like the Clash, she manages to throw a wide disparate spate of influences into a pot and make it her own. Her voice, full and emotive, comes through too clear and as a result feels a bit contrived. The guitars explode into guitar solos guaranteed to give you a third degree burn and the mix offers a lot of interesting sounds to sift through with your heaphones on. So why doesn't this work? The original song offers an insistent if somewhat quiet dread. This interpretation may just be a little too explosive, a little too dynamic in comparison.

-Take 3:
Ted Harris' take on the song comes off as being far more faithful to the original song as well as the album as a whole. Sonically, he layers the vocals one right over the other, at moments utilizing three different vox tracks as he seems to shovel dirt over all of them. Mastering the dub vibe of the project without letting reverb overwhelm the whole of the piece, instruments come in and drone out with the drums starting and stopping just as suddenly. And while the vibe of the piece does seem to lack the urgency of the original, a more subtle paranoia seems to have creeped in, rendering the piece almost downright spooky.

WIN GOES TO:
Despite lyrical gaffes that not even Joe Strummer can get away with (right?), points go to the Clash for creating an apocalyptic rocker in which the music of the band towers over everything else. Moreso than musical cousins like "Armegiddeon Times, " "One More Time" is infused with an urgent sense of dread that never once comes off as blinkered or daft.

Track 6:
"One More Dub"
the Clash vs. Haale

-Take 1:
Initially, I remember listening to this album as a whole and feeling that this track reeked of all filler/no killer. It was obviously redundant as a result of being a dub remix of the previous track. Additionally, it jumped out as an afterthought on an album noteworthy for afterthoughts (see later track "Washing Bullets" et, al for further demonstration of this) in which the Clash threw everything they had on tape at the wall, regardless of whether or not it was going to stick. As hubris goes, this track was exhibit A in the alphabet of self indulgences and a clear foreboding of what was to come, especially in the last few tracks of the album as a whole. Listening to the song with fresh ears, and more to the point a fresh mind, this song becomes fully realized when you place it as the last song on a piece of vinyl with the intention of cleansing your dub heavy palette. And that's a whole different kind of alright.

-Take 2:
Despite my misgivings about Haale's take on "One More Time," all the characteristics I marked as being a bane to the artist's contribution work in spades here. Where the composition for "One More Time" seemed claustrophobic, the dub/remix nature of the original track opens up and lets Haale's genius breathe openly and freely. In fact, the quiet dread that her work on "One More Time" was missing seems to have shown up here in force and in style.

WIN GOES TO:
Haale takes all of the brilliance that crowded and clustered her composition of the original and lets it breathe. Granted, the Clash's version comes off as being an afterthought, but Haale manages to make it a piece of art in its' own right.


FINAL TALLY:
The Clash versus everyone else- 3 to 3, once again.
Cumulative Tally:
A lot like the final tally for this side and last side's- a dead heat. Whether this is indicative of the first piece of vinyl in this set remains to be seen.
On to Side 3!
e.m.p.