January Roundup: A Little Cross-Training

P has been around the aikido dojo from a very young age, and I have long looked forward to getting her onto the mat when the time is right. That opportunity has arisen since we moved to Denton. She is just now old enough to participate in the kids program at the dojo here, and it has been indescribably rewarding to participate in these classes with her.

For the time being, I consider aikido to be a non-negotiable. I get that she is only five and certainly should not be locked into one thing, but I want her to eventually understand the value of sticking with something in the long-term. Plus, it’s something we can continue to do as a family as she grows into her own practice.

Beyond that, we have always let her interests lead her enrichment activities to an extent, and this path has led her through some great experiences in gymnastics, acting, and swimming. Recently, however, she has taken on an independent interest in learning “karate,” so I found a local Tae Kwon Do school and took her to a trial class. She walked away feeling very successful and was really excited about continuing.

I will admit that as an aikido practitioner I would love it for her to be a purist, but there’s no problem with a little cross-training. In fact, the school that she is involved in gives patches and awards for good job notes from teachers and parents, and I am working on ways in which I can capitalize on her excitement in “karate” to reinforce moral lessons she is learning in aikido while at school.

For example, our kids classes use Japanese terms to cultivate an awareness of positive morals. I have adopted three to emphasize: “yuki” (courage), “shoten” (focus), and “rei” (respect). I talked to her kindergarten teacher in the hopes that she can earn a “good job” note for exhibiting these principles in her everyday interactions. Maybe this will help her to see these principles in herself. We’ll see. At the very least, it will be good to know that she will have the confidence to defend herself if necessary.

Thanks to a really hefty haul at Christmas, I had a huge turnover in my listening in January that I probably need to document before my birthday hits. Here’s what is currently in rotation:

Pavlov3 - Curvature-Induced Symmetry…..Breaking: In the big scheme of my listening documentation system, this album has had to work uphill. It is only available in soft format, and I downloaded it in the nebulous November period, but that is no reflection on its outstanding compositional and performance strengths.

(I have not found a YouTube link to the Pavlov3 studio stuff, so here is a streaming link from their bandcamp account.)

After swallowing that pill, push "play" below and scroll on:

Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein - Stranger Things OST v. 1: I held off on this so that it wouldn’t obscure the greatness that was S U R V I V E’s release RR7349. As a soundtrack, it has some important differences from this album, but it is no less inspiring.

Crying - Beyond the Fleeting Gales: An exciting, energetic pop-styled release from this “chiptune” band. They use a modded Game Boy as a sequencer for all their synth sounds, which, upon reflection, is a lot cooler than it might seem.

Tortoise - Standards: A little less prog and a little more jazz than my previous impression of this incredible group. Still, that pushes them into Zappa territory, which is no small comparison.

David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars: My last-ditch attempt to pry open Bowie’s back catalog with one of his defining albums has proven to be gratifying. It’s his Sgt. Pepper’s.

Dawes - All Your Favorite Bands: Stories Don’t End earned my Album of the Year spot in 2014, and I was apprehensive about following it up. I admit that All Your Favorite Bands feels a little forced in places, but it also has some stellar moments that keep me listening.

Anna Meredith - Varmits: Meredith is a BBC composer, and Varmits is her attempt to cross over into more accessible realms. The result is predictably dense and consistently interesting.

Amplifier - Echo Street: As a collection of reworked demos from their 90s back catalog, research has revealed that Echo Street might be a weird place to start listening to Amplifier. It does bear the mark of crossover prog from that era to an extent.

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan - Mustt Mustt: An early 90s Real World release from Khan that betrays the influence of Peter Gabriel on its more Western aspects. Still, Khan’s vocal prowess is on full display, and shines through to electrifying effect.

Joni Mitchell - Mingus: Heijira has long been a favorite of mine, due in no small part to the presence of legendary bassist Jaco Pastorius. I’m not sure, however, that I quite get the seemingly disjunct Mingus well enough yet to form a conclusive opinion.

The Wondermints - Bali: In the mid-00s, I was a pretty big fan of Mind If We Make Love To You, but Bali ended up in wishlist limbo. Now that Recycled Records allowed me to finally lay hands on a copy, however,  I can't seem to get into it.

Oum Kalsoum - Mother of the Arabs: In addition to the Stranger Things soundtrack, I have been looking toward various Persian music for inspiration. No one more readily hits this mark than the mid-century Egyptian artist Oum Kalsoum.

Crippled Black Phoenix - Bronze: This band came up highly recommended, but I am not sure what the big deal is. Bronze has some great moments, but generally feels like stoner rock with a slightly psychedelic edge.

Weezer - Everything Will Be Alright in the End: The “white album” ended my moratorium on Weezer albums last year. The generally positive reviews on its predecessor are well-deserved, as they get the balance of maturity and slackerishness more and more right.

Michael Giacchino - Doctor Strange OST: Giacchino was a big player in 2016, scoring two movies for franchises in which I am hugely invested. He betrays his melodic and harmonic preferences on Doctor Strange to an extent, but also creates a soundtrack that is absolutely appropriate for the character while working decently as a standalone experience.

Finding a Job: Frost*'s "Falling Satellites"

If you read between the lines on my last couple of posts, it might be apparent as to why I have not posted much in the last few months. I was the one who instigated my family’s move, but as of my last post, I still did not have a job. My lack of success weighed heavily. Despite nearly twenty years of band directing experience, the application process was gruelling, frustrating, and often disheartening. It took precedence over working out, practicing, writing, and almost everything else besides daily family duties.  I felt like any moment I spent away from hammering on applications was a missed opportunity that might have serious repercussions for my family's future.

There were lots of times I wondered if it were the right thing to do. Although my band program was in no way perfect, I was very proud of the successes that we had. Things had changed at my school over the past couple of years, however, and the once positive environment on my campus had devolved. It had become routine for students to disrespect and refuse instruction with very little consequence. I did the best I could to keep that culture out of the band hall, but ultimately I could not fight the tide. I spent a lot of time and energy dealing with behavior issues while good students withered on the vine.  I still felt the conviction to continue shepherding those who sought excellence, but I could not stay in that environment without burning out before retirement. I needed a change

Out of respect for my campus and the good of my kids, though, I had to submit my resignation without actually having any interviews in line. I was committed. I finally landed a very positive interview in a small district within commuting distance of Denton. The program is in need of restructuring, and my previous position allowed me to speak with some experience on the challenges ahead. After the interview, I felt quite confident that I was going to land the job.

I had made plans to go to aikido class in Denton that evening, but I had some free time to kill and I found myself on the square. One of the things I will definitely miss in Austin is going to record stores like Waterloo and End of an Ear to browse the ever-shrinking CD selections, so predictably, I dropped in to Mad World Records. I knew that most of their CD selection is reused, so I was not expecting to find much. I was shocked, however, to find that they had Falling Satellites, the most recent Frost* disc, on the shelf.  Bonus points for them!

I enjoyed Frost*’s debut Milliontown quite a bit several years ago. I always had the sense that, although it would be hard to confuse the two, fans of Morse-era Spock’s Beard would find a lot to like in Frost*. Keyboardist and primary composer Jem Godfrey’s vocals share some timbral similarities with Morse, and the band plays with an energy that recalls the Beard’s driving, rhythmically disorienting instrumental side. In fact, if the Beard had not found success in their current line-up, it’s fun to play “what-if” games with Godfrey leading the band.

Despite my respect and admiration for their work, I did not follow them with much vigor after Milliontown. Falling Satellites received enthusiastic accolades on one of my usual online progressive rock resources, however, and also featured a guest solo by Joe Satriani. These two things earned it a spot on my wish list, and a physical copy sitting on a record store shelf on such a potentially momentous day was just too good to pass up.

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Falling Satellites is a dense listen, much more so than Milliontown. Like the best progressive rock, it takes time to get familiar enough with its complexity to see the album’s best aspects. It does, however, have plenty of attention-grabbing passages, both in terms of virtuosity and production. If Frost* were not so clearly led by Godfrey’s keyboard playing, they might even border on prog-metal in some sections. Despite its intensity, however, Falling Satellites sounds very clean, perhaps so much that at times, it loses its edge and teeters on sterility. Overall, however, Frost* comes off more like a particularly fleet-fingered Collins-era Genesis.



Joe Satriani’s appearance is, as expected, fleeting, improvised, and probably mailed in. It is but a moment on the album, but it is a joy to hear nonetheless (below at 3:20). That is to take nothing away from the fantastic work of regular Frost* guitarist John Mitchell, who I have followed since Arena’s The Visitor, but Satriani is a phenomenal player that pushes the possibilities of rock guitar into new realms as a matter of course. Like the best jazz musicians, he takes a few very simple musical ideas and expands them into a full solo.


After floating around the square with Falling Satellites in hand, I made my way back to the car to head towards the dojo On the way, I received a message that I would be offered the job. Without question, I accepted the offer and put another piece of the Denton puzzle in place. It still doesn’t seem real - but what is very real is that I have been able to let go of the application nightmare I had been living in for months. That is a true relief.

Discovering the Shakuhachi: Aikido and Ethno

When I began practicing aikido in earnest in 1998, I was fortunate to walk into a tight-knit community of Texas dojos that stretched from San Antonio to Denton. I remember taking every opportunity to practice at a new dojo in a different town. While I certainly had personal reasons for starting to practice in the first place, this sense of community often kept me going. Since then, teachers have retired and passed on, and I would love to be able to say that we, as a body of practitioners, have navigated these losses gracefully, but this has not been the case. Instead, due to the egos of individuals who feel entitled to some sort of authority and recognition, the organization has splintered. Perhaps Western culture just isn’t ready for the kind of lesson that O-Sensei was trying to teach with aikido.

Aikido practice, however, also generated a personal interest in Japanese culture. When I finished my ethnomusicology degree, it dawned on me, perhaps too late, that my martial arts experience might dovetail nicely into Japanese music studies. Clearly, if there was any culture in the world I really wanted to “immerse” myself, it was Japan. Towards the end of my research, I began to think about ways to use instruments as a lens to view culture. For me to continue on this research path, it made sense to adopt a Japanese instrument.

I started to look into traditional Japanese music. One of my favorite recordings I unearthed was the Nonesuch album Japan: Traditional Vocal and Instrumental Music by the Ensemble Nipponia. It represents a remarkable variety of traditions, but it’s also unified by the outstanding musicianship of the ensemble’s members. While all of the performances are remarkable, the shakuhachi performances really caught my attention. The track Edo Lullaby, which is an original arrangement of a traditional melody, singlehandedly convinced me to adopt the shakuhachi.



I procured an instrument and was very fortunate to find an experienced teacher. I took lessons for nearly two years with the intent of focusing on the shakuhachi in a PhD program. I have not entirely given up on this research agenda, but life has put the immediacy of doctoral work on hold for the time being. Japan: Traditional Vocal and Instrumental Music, however, remains, and has evolved into a personal and family favorite. Both my wife and daughter enjoy the album beyond its merely exotic exterior (I think). As I revisited it earlier this year, I found that The Little One particularly likes Ozatsuma for its angular, frantic energy.



My genuine appreciation for the aesthetic beauty of this music assures me of one thing: my ethnomusicological degree broadened my horizons. It gave me an irreplaceable experience that permeates the breadth of my musical experiences. When I finished my degree, however, I found myself back on the path that I left. I ended up with a challenging and rewarding job as a band director at a title one school to begin paying off my student debt. I genuinely enjoy what I do, but I sometimes wonder about the meaning of my studies, not with a sense of regret, but rather with anticipation. I suspect that their true worth has not yet been revealed.

John Zorn's "Naked City" and a Disappointing 14.5

Although Mike Patton was far more visible as the lead singer of Faith No More, Mr. Bungle's jagged and sinister self-titled debut became the defining favorite for me in the early 90s. The album was produced by John Zorn, a fact that put this incredibly prolific composer on my radar when Naked City was released.  Back then, test driving an album before purchase, especially one by someone as avant-garde as Zorn, was pretty much impossible. Even while working at a record store, we really could only listen to promotional materials.  I had no idea what I was getting into when I bought Naked City.  It turned out to be an all-out assault.



Naked City eschewed all of the clownish imagery of Mr. Bungle and distilled its noisiest aspects into one to three minute blasts of aggression. To call it jagged and disorienting is an understatement. It was a hard listen, but it was also uniquely electrifying. It became a private favorite that I shared with only a few brave souls, but it opened up the doors to a broad variety of noise rock and avant-garde jazz.

There are not many venues for me to really dig in and digest this sort of music these days.  Naked City would drive my wife nuts and might irreversibly scar the Little One.  Nevertheless, the album resurfaced for me due to a recent post that popped up in my feed last week. I was looking for the announcement of 14.5, the final workout for this year's CrossFit Open.

The Open workouts were announced every Thursday when I am in aikido class.  I was barely out of my gi before people were texting me about the WOD.  I went home to find the official movement standards, but was distracted by this amazing live clip from the Naked City project.



This video is the first time I have ever seen a live performance of this material, and it shines a new light on what Naked City was all about.  The original recordings are so erratic that they seem like studio constructions, but these performances challenge that perception in a big way.  Yamasuka Eye, who recently showed up on a Battles album a couple of years ago, is particularly amazing in a way that just can't be captured on a recording. There are not many musicians that I can think of that throw themselves more fully into a performance of such complicated and intense music as I see him do here.

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Not far away from this video was the announcement for workout 14.5.



I admit, I like being stronger and faster than the average joe on the street, but in truth, I am not into this CrossFit thing to be the strongest or the fastest. The system has a competitive component which is motivating, but ultimately I train so that I can maintain a high quality of life and, more functionally, keep my breath in the dojo. This mindset allows me to be pretty forgiving of myself, so I don’t beat myself up too much if I don’t come out on top. Still, its nice to perform well on a hard workout, and although burpees and thrusters don't bother me too much, there is a lot of work happening in 14.5. 

But the next morning I opened the garage and I was not ready. I was congested, short on sleep, noticeably gassed from a workout from the day before, and, worst of all, terribly grumpy. The result: my performance on 14.5 was awful - easily my worst Open workout of the season. I wasn't consciously taking it easy or trying to dial it in, I just couldn't get any traction. When I was done, I was jittery, and post-recovery, I still physically felt like I had pushed myself. 14.5 was just hard, and I was not in a place in which I could pull out my best. Despite being disappointed with my performance,though, I still felt more fit for doing 14.5, which is ultimately the point.

When all the submissions were reviewed this week, the top time for the workout was just over 7 minutes.  That's just ridiculous. To get a time like that, you have to come at this workout with an intensity that borders on pure insanity - not unlike Eye had on Naked City.

Dr. Spin's Best Albums of 2012 Part 1: Numbers 11-20

Those of you that are paying attention might be wondering about a couple of loose ends from the past few months, so I’m gonna take this opportunity to pat myself on the back. Back in August, I took, and passed, my Sandan test at aikido summer camp. Earlier this month, I also passed my CrossFit Level-1 certification. Even better, by the end of this week, I’ll have a little space carved out for anyone that might want to work out too, because we are signing on the new house this Friday.

Things seem to be coming together, and they are, but at the moment we are living in chaos. The apartment is in shambles and my wife and I are exhausted, yet we press on.  If there is anyone out there who has thought about buying stock in an energy drink company, do it before this weekend. I feel confident that’s going to be the only thing keeping me going by then.

Like last year, I have forgone a proper “November Roundup” and instead posted the first (lower) half of my “Best of 2012” list. The best-of is not constrained to albums with a 2012 release date, but instead includes any album that came to have meaning to me this year. Albums that are strongly associated with past experiences do not qualify and, consequently, neither does any album from a previous year's list.

I am very pleased with this year’s results.  Even this second half works quite well as a representation of my listening experiences this year.  Not much jazz, unfortunately, but more rap and electronica than usual, a renewed interest in progressive rock, and a smattering of power pop and folk-ish songwriting.

20.  P.O.S. - We Don't Even Live Here: As much as Undun by The Roots deserves a place on the list as an example of what classic, mature, artistically motivated hip-hop can achieve, this recent release  from P.O.S. edged it out on the basis of its DIY adventurousness.  Like its predecessor, We Don't Even Live Here crossover success imbeds a rock attitude within a deeply musical hip-hop setting.

 

19. Kraftwerk - Man-Machine: I consider this album masterful from two perspectives: in terms of both its forward-thinking technological approach and its broad influence. Its appearance on the 2012 list also represents some other encounters with Kraftwerk this year that I have found inspiring, not the least of which was Autobahn.

18. Brendan Benson - What Kind of World?:  The relatively dark, moody approach that Benson adopted for this album took me awhile to warm up to.  Regardless, it is, as expected, a top-notch collection of power pop from one of the most consistent writers in the genre. 

17. North Atlantic Oscillation - Fog Electric: A very, very late entry, but I think that its inclusion is justifiable.  It sits comfortably at the crossroads of Marillion and M83, with a little Beach Boys and Sigur Ros thrown in for spice - more on them very soon. 

16. Bon Iver -  Bon Iver earned "album of the year" on many 2011 year-end lists, and set the bar really high for my 2012 entries.  It is, in my opinion, a beautifully crafted and special album. 

15. The Flaming Lips - At War With the Mystics:  The Flaming Lips have emerged as one of the leading experimenters in popular music.  Although I've had this album in my collection for quite awhile, my obsession with The Soft Bulletin prevented me from appreciating its nearly orchestral scope until this summer.

14. M83 - Before the Dawn Heals Us:  Even though M83 has evolved quite a bit since this release, Before the Dawn Heals Us does not show its age at all.  In fact, it lives in it own universe so effectively that if it were released in 2012, it would be no less relevant.

13. Gang Gang Dance - Eye Contact:  At times hypnotic, at others powerful, Eye Contact never ceases to be an engaging listen.  Moreover, it just sounds good, and its pristine production is a testament to the clarity that is possible in the contemporary studio.

12. Seryn - This is Where We Are:  Once it clicked, This is Where We Are became difficult to remove from the player.  It satisfies those of us that have been waiting for Peter Gabriel to do something new and fresh.

11. Anglagard - Viljans Oga: It was completely worth the decades-long wait (and the added month for shipping) for this follow up to Epilog.  Like its predecessors, it balances passion, intellect, musicianship, and aggression in just the right amounts so as to make it nearly endlessly rewarding.

To jump to the next half, click here.

Indonesian Prog, Aikido, & CrossFit: Plane Ride to Jersey

On the plane ride to aikido summer camp in New Jersey, I spent some time with a compilation called Those Shaking, Shocking Days. This is a collection of Indonesian progressive and psychedelic rock that I have struggled with since January. The existence of the scene that produced this music is a fascinating example of musical resistance in an oppressive regime. As it exists out of context, however, I’m of a mixed mind. Aside from a couple of songs in local languages and small flashes of local flavor, it shows very little of its “Indonesianness.” Instead, it collects adequate recreations of Arthur Brown, Pink Floyd, early King Crimson, the Moody Blues, and other artists from that era.  In terms of adventurousness, however, none of the artists really rise to the level of the great progressive and psychedelic bands that were their Western contemporaries.



I was contemplating how I should address this interesting, but slightly underwhelming, album when my attention was grabbed by an offer to re-Tweet posts related to CrossFit training. With a deftly well-timed reply, I got in. So, although I would suggest fans of 70s music check out Those Shocking, Shaking Days, I’d like to indulge in a (hopefully rare) non-sequitur transition from the blog’s usual topic, which is recorded music, to the role that CrossFit has played in training for the Sandan test.

First of all, my test is in aikido, a Japanese martial art that aspires to employ a non-destructive, but effective, approach to conflict. Our founder, Morihei Ueshiba, was a skilled practitioner of various martial arts, and synthesized the art after defeating an attacker without touching him. This rather famous footage shows O-Sensei at 85 performing his art at its most abstract and ethereal.



Our regular practice doesn’t really look like what O-Sensei was doing towards the end of his life. We are still at the level of physical contact, but we nevertheless hope to cultivate a cooperative, rather than destructive, interaction through a lifetime of dedicated work, learning not only how to throw, but also how to be thrown.  No matter how careful the practitioner is, however, this latter half of the practice can take its toll on the body over time.  Having practiced for over 15 years, and in various states of physical fitness, I am of the opinion that being in good condition is important for the serious aikido student if they plan to reap the benefits of practicing at an old age.



The kind of flexible, adaptive fitness that CrossFit offers is particularly appropriate for aikido practitioners. When I began CrossFitting, I quickly noticed a difference. With the metabolic conditioning component already in place when I walked into the dojo, I had the latitude to concentrate on nuance, timing, placement, and safety for both me and my partner. CrossFit’s movement-based strength training also allowed me to receive more powerful techniques, but without the stiffness that I used to feel when I was operating under the old-school bodybuilding paradigm.

CrossFit seems to be an excellent compliment to aikido practice, and one that I think will help to maintain the quality of my practice throughout the years. Please let me be clear, though - I see aikido and CrossFit as two entirely separate entities. Being a CrossFitter doesn’t automatically make you a better aikido practitioner, any more than learning how to forward roll will help you with deadlift form. As physically grounded activities, however, there is a crossover that occurs as the body’s awareness and potentials expand.

Just so that I am consistent with my mission statement, music does play an important role in motivating the body to move during CrossFit training. My current coach seems to favor dubstep, so, although I covered deadmau5 last year, very often working out at the box sounds like this.



Thanks to lots of practice and a little CrossFit on the side, I felt physically prepared for my Sandan test as I was flying on that plane with to 70s Indonesian prog pulsing in my ears. In fact, I was in what might have been the best shape of my life. The real test?  I intend to maintain this level of fitness as the school year starts and bring the training I have undergone into my everyday life in a positive, constructive way.

July Roundup: Lovin' the Third Degree

On Tuesday, I am going to aikido summer camp to take my third degree black belt (sandan) test. In my organization, sandan is the last rank that a student can test for. Further promotions only occur through recommendation.  This is, essentially, my last test. Of course, I want it to be representative of the work I have put in and respectful of tradition, so this month has been somewhat consumed with preparations. My idea of what that means, however, has changed over the years.

When I was training for my first (shodan) test in 2003, I was going to the dojo 5-7 days a week, sometimes even twice a day. I was consumed and obsessed with showing the breadth of the techniques I had seen during my white belt ranks.  For the nidan in 2009, life was more complicated, it and did not allow for such narcissism.  I was writing my thesis while moving to Austin and navigating wedding preparations. Training in the midst of these other responsibilities was a great lesson. There was less time spent in the dojo, but I made that time count.  Quality over quantity, so to speak.  

For my sandan test, the responsibilities I have in my life off the mat take even more precedence than on the previous test. Thanks to my wife and family helping with the Little One, I have been able to train 3-4 days a week. Back on that first test in 2004, I wouldn’t have been able to accept this as a test preparation scenario at all, but part of what I am learning from my sandan test is how to integrate my practice into everyday life as a father and husband.

Of course, I’m nervous. I want to represent my teachers and the dojo that made my practice what it is in a memorable way.  I am sure that there are other people that will have trained more for their respective tests, but I can confidently say that I have trained as much as my life allows – and that is enough.

I’m planning on doing a post from camp, but for now I have a very short playlist from this month. I have spent less time in the car, and the albums I have in rotation right now are all pretty compelling, so I really haven’t changed them out very much.

Now Now – Threads: Thematic patterns and threads show how Now Now, a relatively young band with amazing talent, chemistry, and promise, can make a uniquely relevant pop rock album in the 21st century. I foresee great things from them.

St. Vincent - Strange Mercy: St. Vincent seems to capture the eclectic otherworldliness of Bjork and focus it through a David Byrne-like intellect. Catchy melodies sidle up to cacophonous Moog punishment in a somewhat schizophrenic relationship between noise and melody.

Rush - Clockwork Angels: A good concept album is constructed so that its constituent songs have meaning both in context and on their own. The songs from Clockwork Angels get their flavor from the main storyline, but are simultaneously embedded into wider, more universal concepts.

Baby Lemonade - The High Life Suite: An outstanding power pop album that is just too short. In spite of its brevity, the songs are absolutely stunning.

The Beach Boys - That's Why God Made the Radio: This recent Beach Boys release is perhaps a bit uneven, sometimes veering into the corny. It saves itself, however, with a nostalgic overtone and characteristically excellent vocal arrangements.

Anais Mitchell – Hadestown: A gutbucket folk opera that retells of the story of Orpheus.  These days, "folk" music seems to mean "composed on acoustic guitar," which Hadestown obviously was - but it has much more musical depth than the label might suggest.

Sigur Ros – Valtari: As I previously stated, this is a particularly atmospheric work from Sigur Ros. It does, however, open up into moments of arresting angelic beauty.

Also, not represented on playlist:

Astra - The Black Chord: Good retro-prog can go one of two ways: it can use the sound of a previous group asa blueprint, or it can mix up identifiably classic sounds in a unique way. Astra takes the second path.

The Year in Rush Part 10: The Neapolitan Power of the Three

At twenty albums in, and with CDs quickly becoming a thing of the past, how many more opportunities would I have to pluck a new Rush album from a record store shelf? Realistically, not too many, but I unselfishly left that honor to the Little One, who, just days away from being 10 months old, was on my hip as I entered Waterloo Records. I let her pick out a copy (with some encouragement) and she carried it for me to the checkout. Considering the smugly aloof experience I had with the Waterloo staff last year when I bought the new Yes album, I was wondering what kind of reaction I might get when she plopped Clockwork Angels on the checkout counter. This time, I escaped without incident, but I heard snippits of discussion between a group of staff members from across the aisles of the store:

“The new Rush is out…….”

“Neapolitan ice cream?”

“You’re out of control!”

There was a perceptibly snarky undertone to this exchange, but I didn’t really care. Rush showed up at a crucial time in my musical and social development, and the unified persona of artistic excellence and ambition that the Geddy, Alex, and Neil strove for as a unit served as a role model for me. They have been, as I stated at the beginning of this project, “my” band ever since. Nothing that the hipster crew could do or say would ever be able to dislodge that.

Like most fans, I was already somewhat familiar with Clockwork Angels. The first two tracks were released as digital “singles” over a year ago and were also included in the setlist of last year’s Time Machine tour. The rest of the album was written and recorded while the band was engaged in this tour, which is a unique setting for Rush’s recent compositional process. For several decades, the material on their albums was written as the band was coming off a break and preparing for a tour, and Lee once lamented that their albums did not always capture the song's live rendering. Because it was recorded while the band was actively touring, however, I think Clockwork Angels more accurately captures Rush’s trademark live energy.



Unlike many fans, however, I resisted the temptation to examine these tracks too closely. As a single, Caravan, with its twisting time changes and exploratory structure, seemed a bit confounding, but as the lead track to Rush’s first concept album, it’s an explosive opening statement. Arguably, all of Rush’s albums are conceptual, but not since the long-form songs of the 70s has the band tackled the idea of a story with character development and a climax, and they never did so in the full-album format. Peart is in his wheelhouse when he can employ a story as a vehicle, too, especially one with the descriptive richness of Clockwork Angels' steampunk-inspired imagery.

As usual on Tuesday, I later went to the dojo. I make no secret of my Rush zealotry amongst my fellow aikido practitioners, and before I had my shoes off, a person asked if I had heard the local radio promo that Waterloo Records had released for “new music Tuesday.” The spot posited that if Rush in the 70s was vanilla, and 80s Rush was chocolate, and in the 90s they were strawberry, then the new album was "Neapolitan ice cream."  The cryptic secret explained!

As flippant as this description is, in a superficial way it’s pretty fair. Rush’s recent predilection for mining their own repertoire as a repository for inspiration is more pronounced than ever, and is skillfully navigated on Clockwork Angels. The incendiary, muscular riffing of 2112 and Caress of Steel coexists with the focused, driving intensity of Signals, unified under the melodic emphasis and consistency of Counterparts. Even more exciting than watching these flavors bleed together is the comeback of the instrumental excursion. In the past, these gave Rush’s songs a sense of exploration and return, and that is excitingly recaptured  on Clockwork Angels.



Longtime Rush fans are usually prepared for some sort of reinvention of the band when a new album is released.  Clockwork Angels, however, musically encapsulates the bands history in a way that embraces, rather than challenges, their identity.  It sounds like Rush at their most memorable, which, at this stage in their career, seems to be an artistically gratifying path, not to mention a strategically smart one.  Fans that have felt disconnected from some of Rush's more stylistically jarring experiments in recent decades can jump back on board, while new fans don't have to understand their entire career to get where they are trying to say.

There is, of course, the danger of empty nostalgia in a situation like this, and there is, admittedly, a nostalgic aspect to the album, but it creates a tone of familiarity for the band's further progression.  In fact, although Clockwork Angels would be a shining end to Rush's long, engaging career, its exuberance makes me confident that "my" band still has outstanding work ahead of them.

To see the previous post in this series, click here.
To start over at the beginning, click here.

June Roundup: Cultivating the Special

In an interview conducted during the Snakes and Arrows tour, Rush drummer Neil Peart quite casually made the observation that the idea of personal change is a misnomer. Instead, he said, people grow, and either accept or deny the events and perceptions of their past. Whether I like it or not, the seed of who I am today was already present in the person I was yesterday. I can gratefully say with all confidence that I have grown positively in the years that have passed since the move from Denton to Austin. Life is better than it has ever been.

One of the things I have worked on since I relocated is that for me, building a world with myself at the center is not healthy. I feel most centered when I am strong, but not the strongest; brave, but not the bravest; calm, but not the calmest, and I can lead by example rather than force of will. After all, it’s not a competition. Absolutely everyone wants to feel like they are special, but to do so at the cost of the people around you is, I think, an illusion.

When I left Denton, I left behind a world that I constructed around myself, for better and for worse, over the course of nearly twenty years. That world has also grown in its own way without me (as it should!) and the place that I held within it is receding into the horizon. I can see that and I accept it. Truthfully, I am overjoyed to notice the seeds that I helped to plant take root in fertile soil, but the maturation of this fruit is bittersweet because I don’t see to its daily cultivation.

Furthermore, I don’t always feel special in Austin, at least not in the same way. I often I feel like I’m just another face in the crowd. I grapple with the temptation to disingenuously stand out to massage my ego rather than work patiently for the growth that I am now undergoing to take root in this somewhat rockier soil.

Speaking of rock, for the Year in Rush project, I blew through almost two decades worth of material early in the month: Counterparts, Test for Echo, Vapor Trails, and Snakes & Arrows. I was anxious to finish before the release of Clockwork Angels, but I’d like to let this last one one simmer awhile longer before I respond to it with the gushing positivity of novelty. Don’t worry; I’ll post on it soon.

In the meantime, something special - beginning in 1991 on Roll the Bones, Rush began to compose freestanding instrumentals again after over a decade's break. This point was edited from the blog for the sake of brevity. Therefore, for this month's roundup, I am compensating by posting a collection of instrumentals from this late period that might be considered, for the studious Rush fan, the Gangster of Boats Trilogy (all four parts).

-and furthermore:

Soundgarden - Badmotorfinger: Before grunge became the new thing, Badmotorfinger was the underground metalhead's delight. Its difficult to divest it, however, from the typhoon of airplay that Soundgarden subsequently received later in the 90s.

M83 - Before the Dawn Heals Us: My first step backward into M83's catalog has been incredibly gratifying. As emotionally affective as the album is as a whole, the most moving tracks, both poignant and terrifying, are spoken-word experiments.

Miike Snow - Happy to You: I'm not sure if the band is trying to be psychedelic or humorous with their imagery, and keeps me off balance. There are lots of things that I aesthetically like about the album, but sometimes it seems a little goofy. 

Beach House - Bloom: Beach House has been getting a lot of attention in the indie press, which I think is largely deserved. Its accessible enough for a casual listen, but smart enough for deep examination.

The Wondermints - Mind If We Make Love To You: Another relatively obscure power pop album that, despite being intentionally retrospective, should be more visible. Track for track, it compares favorably to classic psychedelic pop.

Fishbone - Truth and Soul: So many people came to know Fishbone through The Reality of My Surroundings, and as good as that album is, it seems very overworked by comparison. Truth and Soul is the clearest and most direct statement of the band's career.

My Bloody Valentine - Loveless: Now that I've acquired the taste for this album, I find it to be incredibly beautiful. More importantly, I am starting to gain an awareness of just how influential it really is.

Now, Now - Threads: Now, Now's melodic songwriting and overall energy have me excited. This one may need to simmer awhile, though, just to make sure that what I think is going on is what it seems.

R.E.M. - Document: In the long run, I lost faith in R.E.M. From a songwriting and performance perspective, however, Document was a relatively important album to me (in 1988).

Baby Lemonade - The High Life Suite: This Father's Day present was unexpected, but is a brilliant example of the kind of songwriting I really enjoy. It is also incredibly short, unless you count the 25 minute bonus that sounds like a suspended animation effect from a video game.

The Beach Boys - That's Why God Made the Radio: The Beach Boys have long seemed to be functioning as their own tribute band, with very little to offer artistically beyond a fossilized nostalgia for yesteryear. Wilson, however, has skirted the margins of relevance for several years now, and the possibility of a real follow-up so SMiLE, no matter how slim, is too compelling to pass up.

John Coltrane - A Love Supreme: Coltrane was always searching, and A Love Supreme was the first clearly stated hypothesis in a newer experiment. It could be studied at length, not just from a musical or theoretical point of view, but also as a historical and cultural statement.

One last thing, if you made it this far.  Since "The Year in Rush" is drawing to a close, I'm considering a new background project: "The Jellyfish Family Tree" (unless anyone else has any other suggestions......).

Oneohtrix Point Never's "Replica," Places, and Worlds

Although I know that some people insist that a house is "just a place," I don’t fully buy it. We have a strong relationship to the places in which we live.  We shape our environments as we carve out our existence within them, and conversely, our environments shape us.  The house, the workplace, the college dorm room – all become imbued with the memories and sensations that we experience as we walk along our path within them: even more so when those places are shared with other people.  A couple of months ago, I posted about the nostalgia-fueled mourning process I was going through as my old dojo changed locations, and sure, empirically, the old dojo was "just a place," but, for a long time, it was also my world. 

I had the good fortune to attend the dojo's grand (re)-opening a few weeks ago.  The new place is beautiful and I am very happy for the amazing practitioners there.  It will always be a space I look forward to visiting, but I will probably never "live" there as I did in the old space. That relationship is disconnected from the present, and a new world has arisen in recent years with its own set of meaningful interrelations.

After classes, I got a chance to explore Denton on a rainy afternoon and checked out how things have changed since I left in 2009. I noticed a rarity on the Square: a new record store. I could not resist the temptation to go in and poke around.

There were just a couple of albums that had the potential to break my self-imposed year-end moratorium, one of which was Replica, by an electronic/ambient project called Oneohtrix Point Never. I had happened across some reviews and interviews surrounding the interesting process and concept that generated Replica. Daniel Lopatin, the creative force behind Oneohtrix Point Never, constructed the album’s rippling auras out of 80s commercials, very tightly cropped and looped so as to imply new rhythms and atmospheres. The articles are worth reading, but one idea in particular stuck out to me, so much so that it is worth quoting in full:

I had this really corny Ray Bradbury science-fiction scenario in my head: These samples I'm using are the last remnants of society in a post-apocalyptic world, and the survivors think they're putting together a replica of what society used to be like, but they're getting it totally wrong. Like someone getting artifacts wrong for a museum in the future.

I found this concept to be anything but corny. The sea of mediated sounds that we unconsciously swim in is profoundly influential in our everyday existence. What sort of musical potential might lie in this material if it were stripped of all context, reduced to snippets and reconstructed from a totally unfamiliar perspective? Lopatin’s concept seemed so compelling that, even though I was not sold on what I heard of the album, I had to try Replica out. I decided that it would be an immediate purchase in January, but I had not counted on finding a physical copy sitting on a shelf.

Oh, well....we'll call it the first entry for 2012, albeit a few weeks early.

I’m quite sure the quote above planted the seed of this dystopian vision in my head, but if it was Lopatin’s intention to create the post-apocalyptic soundscape of the future out of repurposed sounds of the past, he succeeded admirably.

Oneohtrix Point Never - Power Of Persuasion by Mexican Summer

Admittedly, Replica initially sounded like a CD skipping uncontrollably, or maybe even like the kind of jarring sounds that the Others might use to torture prisoners on Lost. Incredibly, though, once the preliminary shock wears off and the human organization becomes more perceptible, the musicality of Replica really shines through.  It was an amazing listen on the rainy drive back to Austin.



Despite its electronic, cut-and-paste construction, there is something almost primordial about Replica. It generates an aura of circumspection in its ambient moments while its more jagged qualities can be unsettling. In any case, the albums unifying concept is intellectually engaging enough that, despite several months of play, it has not left my player. Replica may sound like the future, but doesn't try to predict what that future will sound like by today's instrumental and aesthetic standards.  Instead, using the mediated environmental castoffs of the past in an alien set of interrelations, Lopatin proposes a disconnected future that quizzically looks back and wonders what we were doing.