Anne, Jens and Friends

Sometimes I find words trying to escape me, to be spilt onto the page, like some pushy bully cutting in line, because they find some sort of validity there – some permanence on the page, or screen, or whatever. Sitting here in an Indianapolis airport at the end of March, sunlight gushing through the windows, the words are trying to escape. Bullies. No front cuts!

Reading Anne Lamott and listening to Jens Lekman spurred on this bout of writing. We’ll get to them in a second. But it can be anything, really. A good conversation (thank you for the best one I’ve had in a long time on Tuesday night, Aubu). Traveling. A certain temperature. Contentment. Sadness. Josh Ritter. I guess they collectively call these things inspiration. But it can be just as quickly be trumped out by, but not limited to: Boredom. Self-consciousness. Emptiness. Sucking at writing. Reading too much Perez Hilton.

Let’s talk about Anne Lamott and Jens Lekman now.

So D.O. told me to read Anne Lamott. I D.O. whatever D.O. tells me to do (take a minute to cringe, compose… and we’re back). She’s good at writing. And she writes about commonplace things in a way that points to their importance – the profundity of the ordinary. My favorite author, ever, is F. Scott Fitzgerald. I once said I’d sacrifice Scotty (my younger brother) to be able to write like him. (This is problematic for several reasons, not the least which is I don’t think Scotty wants to be sacrificed – do you, Scotty? Cuz we can do this right now.) Anyhow, I am starting to think the same about Anne Lamott.

Take this passage, from pages 264-65 (cite your sources!) of Traveling Mercies, for example:

“The truth is your spirits don’t rise until you get way down. Maybe it’s because this—the mud, the bottom—is where it all rises from. Maybe without it, maybe whatever rises would fly off or evaporate before you could even be with it for a moment. But when someone enters that valley with you, that mud, it somehow saves you again. At the marsh all that mud and one old friend worked like a tenderizing mallet. Where before there had been tough fibers, hardness and held breath, now there were mud, water, air, mess—and I felt soft and clean.”

She has a way of taking very, very specific tangible things – tough fibers, hardness, held breath – and applying them to a universally understood concept – pain. I like that because I can understand those things. On top of that, she’s hilarious, uses the F word in all the right places, doesn’t act like she’s OK, and one last thing: she’s good at writing.

Now for our Swedish friend, Jens. Well, Jens is like that friend of yours who’s a little guarded, a little off, took a long time to get to know. He’s hilarious, but only in a way that you can appreciate if you’ve known him a while. He has a bad haircut. You’ve known him for a year and a half, but only now could you really say (or even want to say), “Yeah, we’re friends.” But he’ll be around for the long haul – at all the most important events in your life, bad haircut in tow, because he really has nothing better to do. I know it sounds peculiar talking about a musician like that – someone I’ll never befriend. But this is how I imagine Jens Lekman in my mind.

He wrote these lyrics, and I love them. I think they better describe what it feels to be in like with someone than The Hills or The OC or The Next Sitcom With a Smoking Hot Cast That I Will Unabashedly Dive Headfirst Into, ever will. And they make me giggle because they’re so true.

I saw on TV about this little kid
Who had a pig for a pet
His mom had once been attacked by a dog
So a pig was the closest thing he could get
This has of course nothing to do with anything
I just get so nervous when I’m talking to you
All I think about everyday is just kissing you
And all I’m feeling is that feeling that feels refreshingly new.

Moral of the story. If I ever tell you a story about a kid who had a pig for a pet, pucker up!

OK, so Spring is upon us. In honor of season of love and rain and renewal and warming temps, here’s a list of songs that should make for an ideal soundtrack to the season:

“Scenic World” by Beirut
“Kanske Ar Jag Kar I Dig” by Jens Lekman (quoted above)
“Cherry Tulips” by Headlights
“Miniature Birds” by The Grand Archives
“Here We Are” by Patrick Park
“A New Chance” by The Tough Alliance
“Hard Days 1.2.3.4.” by Loney, Dear
“The Great Salt Lake” by Band of Horses
“Ballad of Carol Lynn” by Whiskeytown
“Painting by Chagall” by The Weepies
“Midnight Coward” by Stars

xoxo.

Jens.

Sex God (Provacative Title!)

Several months ago I chewed through Rob Bell’s Sex God. Believe it or not, it really lived up to its title: it was about Sex and God. And how they go together. Or how God invented Sex. Or maybe it was about strip clubs. I’m not quite sure anymore, but I did like a lot of what Rob had to say. A lot of it was conjecture, but what I like about Rob’s conjectures is that they don’t straddle the line. He says what he means. Even if what he means isn’t necessarily true all the time.

One Rob-truth especially stuck with me – perhaps because it’s a Truth-truth: it went something along the lines of “...something serious -- something hellish happens when people are treated as objects, and we should resist it at all costs. (p. 22)" In my words: every time we dehumanize someone we bring a little bit of hell to Earth.

If it’s a Truth-truth then I am guilty of bringing a hell of a lot hell to Earth:

Every time I judge someone’s importance based on what they do (or don’t do) to make a living I bring Hell to Earth. By doing so, I have deconstructed an entire identity down to a job. Jobs are not human.

Every time I look out for myself and glance past others I bring hell to Earth. Pretending that other people do not exist might just be the definition of dehumanization. Invisible people are not human.

Every time I flippantly discount someone’s importance because of what they’re wearing I bring hell to Earth. I have torn their worth down into some sewn together pieces of fabric. Fabric is not human.

Yes, it’s a Truth-truth. I think. Either way, I agree. In fact, an idea like that can really change the way you see people. And the way you view yourself. And the way you view the world. It’s one of those ideas that can shift your paradigm; it did all of those things to me. It affected the deepest parts of me because I know that I have brought Hell to a lot of people in my life – in my mind and in my actions.

Rob’s argument is that Heaven is a perfect relationship – with God, with one another. To God, relationship is of the utmost significance. He craves relationship with us and he wants us to cultivate relationships with one another. When we trample on that which God considers the most important, we have brought hell to Earth, because if Heaven is a perfect relationship, then hell is isolation. And isolation begins when we dehumanize someone, because we have deemed them unworthy of time, of attention, of relationship.

So what do we do with this? We ask God to make us painfully aware of when our hearts judge – and thus put distance between – one another. We ask God to heal those relationships that are busted up. We ask God to do these things, and then we act. We act as a sort of glue to a world where everything is broken by loving those who need love, by loving those who are impossible to love. Relationship by relationship it’s possible to bring a little bit of Heaven to Earth. I think what God is saying in Isaiah 58 in regards to sacrifice also applies here:

“…Share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter – when you see the naked, clothe him, and do not turn away from your own flesh and blood. Then your light will break forth like the dawn and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.”

Random Smatterings from the Past Couple Weeks.

Here are some random thoughts from the past week, in bulleted format:

• Had Once, the delightfully simple Irish movie that almost no one saw, ($14 mil in revenues (maybe that's a lot for a movie that cost only $100k to make? (I apologize for the triple parentheses))) not won the Academy Award for Best Song for the stunning "Falling Slowly," I'd have written hate mail the entire cast of Enchanted -- animated characters included. Not even kidding. I'm not typically the hate mailing kind, and I know the Academy Awards often honor the wrong film, but it would have honestly made me a disgruntled human; because Falling Slowly was the best song in a movie last year. All that said, I was extraordinarily happy when Glen and Marketa won. If you get a chance, rent it. It'll give you goose bumps and the feel-goods. And **(For Guys Eyes Only Section)** you might end up holding hands with whomever you see it. Unless it's Brian Pattillo because that's who I saw it with (the first time). He wasn't too into that hand holding business. Prude! Here's a link to an interview with the two stars of the movie -- it's great to see a couple of wonderfully gracious people get some recognition.

• I saw There Will Be Blood with my Pop on Wednesday. Interesting movie to see with your Pop (or your Old Man or Dad or Mom -- whatever you call the father figure in your life) because of all the relationship dynamics between father-son. Frankly, it's a painful movie to take in (or probably more accurately -- it takes you in), but it sticks in your stomach like the marble pound cake I just consumed at the World's Largest Coffee Chain. Pop and I have talked about it quite a bit, trying to figure out what in the world it was supposed to mean. One thing we and the rest of the world agree on is that Daniel Day-Lewis is mesmerizing -- in the same way that baseball-sized hail is mesmerizing. And Furbies. Hideous, destructive (I can think of at least 10 ways Furbies are destructive!), but just try to look away. You judge who looks more frightening:

OR

OR

• Life outside of relationship is not life. This has never been more obvious to me. Nothing has been beaten into my head more the past year. It has probably been the loneliest year of my life so far. Not in a woe-is-me, curled-up-in-the-fetal-position-quoting-Poe sense. More in the literal, I-have-been-alone-A-LOT sense. In hotels. In airports. In small Midwestern towns. In massive neon-tinged cities. In rental cars. Deep relationship with God and deep relationship with other people make life worth it, but they have been hard to come by. Deep relationship with myself does not. And frankly life falls apart when I don't recognize this -- or do recognize this, and choose to live otherwise. As a consequence, I have never craved deep, messy, honest relationship more than I do right now. As a consequence, the ugly part of me is waging a fairly successful assault against that very idea with the shallow ("I'm doing fine"), clean ("I'm doing fine") and dishonest ("I'm doing fine"). So, let's be friends. And if I ever say "I'm doing fine," threaten me with Furbies until the truth comes out.

• Quickly, go check out these 3 bands!:

1. The Grand Archives
2. The Felice Brothers
3. Headlights
   

Top Albums of 2007

As another year comes to a close (I originally began work on this post at the end of December)-- another year in which I spent way too much of my GNP on music -- and another year in which I failed to make a habit of keeping my blog updated -- I thought the only appropriate way to finish out the year would be to state my case for the best musical offerings of the year, in a sporadic blog format. That was a terribly long introductory sentence. Long sentences are supposedly the death of any journalist. If I don't finish this post, then you know the reason.

I positively HATE it when people try to categorize an entire year at the movies, or music, or art, or politics into a single sentence. Isn't that the point of all these things -- they're more complicated, more beautiful -- like life -- than a sentence can contain? They're not meant to be categorized and defined. I say all this because I originally began this paragraph with this little number: "It was a strong year for music, overall." Nice.

The more I think about it, though, it was a really strong year for music, overall. So I'll stand by that statement.

So without too much further blabbering, here are my favorite albums from 2007.

The Tough Alliance - A New Chance
The album that made me feel the best in the past year. Like Saturday morning cartoons thrown in a blender with bubbalicious gum and Barney. Minus the purple blood.
The Avett Brothers - Emotionalism
These guys kind of came out of nowhere for me -- and boy do I like surprises! Almost as much as I like Acie Law IV. Kind of a countrified version of the Righteous Brothers -- sweet harmonies mixed with banjos make for a lovely listen.
Shout Out Louds - Our Ill Wills
Swedes have made some really important contributions to the world. IKEA, for one. I can't think of a second at this moment. But the Shout Out Louds are definitely third. Their sound blends synthesizers and all the best things about pop into a swirl of fun, if you can manage to ignore their depressing lyrics. I can!
Jettie - Kites for Charity
Remember how I couldn't remember the second best thing to come out of Sweden? Just thought of it - this album by Jettie. Might be the prettiest album of the year. Might not. Either way, it's the type of music that makes your chest swell with excitement.
Once - Soundtrack
My favorite movie from that last year also boasts the best soundtrack from the past year. If you haven't seen the movie, the music will still resonate with you. If you have seen the movie, it'll just about change your life.
Band of Horses - Cease to Begin
This one grew on me the more I listened to it. Their first album, Everything All the Time, was the same way. Like a fine wine. Except you want to drink it up fast because it's that good, and you didn't pay $200 for it.
The Weakerthans - Reunion Tour
I bought this one just as winter started to set in, and it kept me company like a good book, a warm blanket and a Grande Mint Mocha as the days became more blustery.
Ryan Adams - Easy Tiger
For perhaps the first time in his career, Ryno decided not to try to put all of his ideas into one album. He used descretion. And the results are his most widely-acclaimed album since the turn of the millennium. He also gets some extra points for providing my best memory of the year -- his Fall concert in Dallas.
Andrew Bird - Armchair Apocrypha
One of the first albums I bought back in February. I found myself continually finding something new to grasp with it as I came back to it again and again throughout the year. It's at turns sarcastic, deep, scientific(?!), heart-melting, awe-inspiring and just good. He might be the smartest man in rock.
Okkervil River - Stage Names
The stories Okkervil are telling are sad ones, but they're coated with sweetness, which makes them palatable. And the album is far beyond palatable -- it's downright delicious. The first time I heard "Savannah Smiles" I literally wept. Like a small boy.
Kanye West - Graduation
Alright, let's get this straight -- Kanye West is a bastard. He just also happens to be the best rapper alive. And unlike many who have more of a conscience than I do -- I can separate the music from the man. Like Kanye's other releases, Graduation is all over the map musically. There are party starters. There are party enders. There's Chris Martin singing hooks. There are old white men and young black men backing him up. And me enjoying all of it.
Fionn Regan - The End of History
Good old-fashioned, finger-picking folk. Soothing to the soul like Vick's. On a side note: this poor lad has the palest skin I've ever seen in person. Saw him at ACL this year, and I'm pretty confident that was the first time he'd seen the sun -- ever? Oh, and his backup singer's name was Gypsy. She was pale too.
Feist - The Reminder
Had you told me at the beginning of the year that Leslie Feist would be a name that most Americans would know (on account of her ubiquitous iPod ads), I'd have called you stupid. You can now call me stupid. I loved her first one. This one is better. Summertime in MP3 format.
Peter Bjorn and John - Writer's Block
Every year my little bro, Scotty, and I try to find our "Summer Album." Basically, the album that you listen to with the windows down at sunset and sing out loud. It sounds cheesy because it is. A couple of years ago it was Pneumonia by Whiskey Town. This year it was PB&J.
Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
If Funeral was a runaway freight train, this one was a freight train slamming on the breaks -- same scary power, same ability to smash anything in its way -- but with more control. Only now and then do AF truly, truly let loose, but there is a staggering beauty in the restraint.
The National - Boxer
Whew -- where to begin? This album has all the weight of a winter storm, but at the same time manages to be completely uplifting. Not a small feat. The lyrics are simple, and lead singer Matt Berninger repeats himself so much you start to think he's talking down to you. Then you realize he's making a poignant statement he doesn't want you to miss. Then you realize this might be your favorite album from 2007. If not for..
Josh Ritter - Historical Conquests
It grabs you from the gut with sugary hooks and holds on with lyrics that go deep. Some might complain that it's not as cohesive as his other releases, but I love the swirling, blundering, hodge podge of modern folk that exudes from Ritter's soul. It teeters on the edge of pandemonium, but balances with some sweet, slow ones. Kind of like falling in love.

The "Butter"fly Effect

Disclaimer: I hope you think this story is funny, but there is a strong possibility that it might suffer from the dreaded "you had to be there" syndrome. I apologize if this is the case. Onward!

So about a month ago I was in Miami for work, and was eating dinner with a coworker. Like most major metropolitan areas, there is a fairly substantial homeless population (Just FYI -- should I ever become homeless, I'm moving to Miami where the temperate year-round climate and flamboyant neon signage is enough to make anyone squeal with delight!). Most of the restaurants in the MIA are outdoor cafes per the aforementioned temperatures. Hordes of tourists and locals roam the streets, mingling with these restaurateurs. Therefore, you often get what I like to call Hoverers. Basically, someone decides they are going to hang out over your table just a little bit longer than is considered socially comfortable. Maybe they don't mean to -- maybe they're just waiting for a fellow patron, or need a minute to catch their breath. I'm not one to judge.

So, it didn't surprise my co-worker and I when a homeless man hovered at the acceptable 5-to-10-foot distance (see section 2.3.5 in the "Hovering for Dummies" handbook -- available at a respectable book dealer near you) for about 10 seconds. It did surprise us, however, when he advanced into the more intimate 2-3-foot range. It struck me at this point that this was no ordinary Hoverer. He was not simply passively hovering; rather, he was hovering with intent. The object of his desire immediately became apparent.

With a few strong-willed glances and a confident point at our bread basket, he made his intentions known: he wanted bread. We offered the basket to him, told him to take whatever he wanted. He smiled, swiftly reached toward the basket -- over the entire basket of bread -- scooped up a single butter package from the table, and disappeared into the crowd. This absolutely killed me for some reason, and I started laughing uncontrollably.

Moral of the story? Man does not live on bread alone. He needs butter, too.

Or something like that. For further reading see Matthew 4:4.

Love you.

Steve

Imaginary Diseases

Up until last weekend I had been going through what I will from here on out dub a Musical Discovery Drought (MDD). Let me explain.

Typically, I have no difficulties finding a new album to enrapture me for a few weeks. More often than not I can literally just walk into any music dealer, spend five minutes perusing the aisles and emerge with 10 different albums I have been dying to buy. Lately, though, I have not been in any hurry to buy any albums. In fact, I was afraid for a minute that I was beginning to lose my obsession with music. While on one hand it would be a fiscally beneficial loss, it would also be a dreadfully sad one. Kind of like when you were little and you got that one precious item for your birthday that you had been begging for to no end. (For me, this may or may not have been a pair of tap dance shoes). You were elated at first, but then somewhere around two weeks later you found yourself ignoring that item in favor of the next big thing. How sad must that thing feel being ignored like that? I don’t think that this analogy really works that well, but now you know I desperately wanted to be a tap dancer a great deal more than any young boy should.

You’re probably wondering what happened last weekend that jolted me from my MDD. On top of that, you may have had similar DD’s before and have questioned how, if ever, you can emerge from your drought. Maybe for you it’s a BDD (book) or movie (MoDD to differentiate between M’s), TVDD (TV, duh) or … you get the idea. There are a couple solutions I’ve discovered to cure the DD strain:

1. Wait to buy an album or two (or 10) that blow your mind.

Actually, that’s the only solution, now that I think about it. That’s all. Last weekend I copped (that’s a new phrase I’ve recently picked up after reading Slam Magazine, where apparently “buy” and “purchase” are not cool enough words) Andrew Bird’s “Armchair Apocrypha” and Band of Horses’ “Everything All the Time.” Go buy them. Take them home with you and let them heal you. MDD, you can’t hold me down!

I think every post from here on out should end with me yelling at an imaginary disease.

Blog It Like It's Hot

This is my third blogging experience. The now defunct "Vanillarush10" blog and "SomeoneElseStoleVanillarush10" blog have long been retired, and have made it quite clear they wish to stay that way. And I'm not one to argue with a retired blog. Everyone knows how grumpy the retired can be. Sure, I could have resurrected those old friends from blog oblivion, but it would have required a significant expenditure of blood, sweat and tears. Or just remembering old passwords that I made up 3 years ago.

Anyway, I'll be updating my personal state of the union with some music musings, some tale-spinning, a photograph or so and maybe an occasional visit from our friend, YouTube. On that note, I'm sure you've seen this by now, but it has given me a great deal of joy the past couple days:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nda_OSWeyn8

I wanna know where the gold at!