April Roundup: This Thing Called Life

In recent months, I have intended to come up with some sort of meaningful summation of what has been going on in these roundup posts.  Sometimes it's easy.  Something's going on, and it just comes out.  Other times, a voice, which sounds suspiciously like that guy Jeff from Coupling, repeats "come on, write something sensible!" over and over.  This shuts down everything.

But, things have happened.  The elephant in the room, of course, is that my longtime feline buddy Mork passed on last week, and I'm still having a hard time.  I've talked about it here and there, although I think that publicly, I played down the gravity of his condition.  Maybe I was reluctant to accept it myself.  Regardless, I don't want this to become a blog about me grieving for a pet.  I will say, though, that he and I were strangely and uniquely bonded.  Thinking back on it, I think that he is the only being that was still around from the the life I led in the late 90s.  He was, in Lost terminology, my constant. Now that he is gone, I acutely feel has absence in the house. 

In other news, I had over 100 students compete in solo and ensemble contest last weekend, and came away with 60 first divisions and 25 second divisions.  Considering when I came to the program, there were only 75 students total, this is pretty phenomenal.  What's even more phenomenal is watching students hear their musical voice blossom due to the work that they have invested in themselves, some for the first time.

Its human nature to compartmentalize.  I did not feel the sorrow of Mork's passing when that astonished 6th grader proudly announced to me that they had gotten a 1.  Nor did I feel any gratification when I came home expecting to be greeted by a longtime companion whose lights were quickly dimming only to find that the house is empty.  The piece to work on in all of this is, I think, to realize that these feelings and sensations are not separate at all, but are part of a unified experience that we call, in the words of Prince, "This thing called Life." 

Meaningful?  I don't know - that's your experience.  I just like music.  A lot happened this month on this front, too....

Willis Earl Beal - Acousmatic Sorcery: Beal's field recordings from a lonely apartment in somewhere, Chicago brims with vision and potential. I'm really looking forward to his upcoming "junkyard techno" project.

"The Year in Rush" Sub-Roundup
Rush - Hemispheres: Rush invested a  lot into Hemispheres, and the result is nothing short of staggering. It is probably, in the classic sense, their progressive rock masterpiece.

Rush - Permanent Waves: I really, really enjoyed going back to this one. Like 2112, I kind of did not want to let it go.

Rush - Moving Pictures: Its pretty amazing that I can still get so much joy out of listening to this album. Although I will admit the first few tracks might be little threadbare for me, once Limelight kicks in, I'm totally hooked.

Rush - Signals: Rush is able to change their style dramatically from one album to the next, yet still sound identifiably like themselves. Signals is just the right mixture of sameness and difference to follow-up Moving Pictures.

Field Music - Plumb: This brilliantly complex, adventurous, sincere, and accessible album is presently contender for album of the year. After almost three months in rotation, I purposefully took it out so that I can enjoy coming back to it later.

The Grays - Ro Sham Bo: An absolute power pop classic. Worth every penny you will spend tracking it down and buying it, which is much easier to do today than it was in 1996.

The Soul of Mbira - This great collection of Shona Mbira music reminds me how much I miss my ethnomusicological studies. There is a depth to this music that just can't be gleaned out of context.

Men at Work - Business as Usual: If you have an ear for the 80s album, Business as Usual holds up pretty well. Perhaps it didn't change the world, but it did define a time.

Spock's Beard - Beware of Darkness: Spock's Beard was still finding their way on their sophomore release, but it sows all the seeds that would soon sprout into their idiosyncratic brand of progressive rock. The Doorway is a particularly fine moment.

Miike Snow - Happy to You: Their sophomore release is more quirky and symphonic in scope, but I'm not sure that the songwriting, which is what I liked so much about their debut, is quite as solid. That album took quite bit of simmering to reveal itself, though, so I should probably give this one a chance.

Grimes - Visions: Considering how early it is in Boucher's career, Visions is a solid collection of synth-pop.  On its own, I'm not totally convinced that it lives up to all the hype, but I have high expectations of her future work.

Nine Inch Nails - Pretty Hate Machine: Reznor was doing some pretty innovative and interesting things in 1990 to bridge the gap between techno, industrial and punk. I just don't think that I have enough angst anymore to keep up with Reznor's self-flagellating melodrama from this period, though (if I ever did).

Junius - Reports from the Threshold of Death: Junius crosses boundaries in a way that has piqued the interest of fan bases that are usually quite insular. Metal, prog, shoegaze, synth-rock, and a myriad of other styles merge seamlessly under the vaguely Simon Lebon-esque vocals of Joseph Martinez.

The Mars Volta - Noctourniquet: I've been on board with The Mars Volta since their debut, but have had reservations about nearly every album since. Noctourniquet is the first in a very long time that has really stuck with me.

The Days, The Grays, and the Life of Mork

The sound of live music in Dallas during the 90s was generally a wash of post-Smashing Pumpkins groups vying to be "The Next Nirvana." Due to the gentle flapping of Jellyfish's wings, however, there was a powerful undercurrent of melodic rock aimed at reimagining the work of the Beatles. I was caught up in this undertow during my stint as a semi-professional rock musician. As a result, for several years the majority of my diet of "new" music was coming from power pop bands, many of them local to the Dallas area.

One of my favorites from this scene was The Days. This amazing trio had brilliant songwriting and stellar three-part harmonies that distinguished them from the crowds of unfocused, jangly pop groups. Additionally, they turned out to be three really nice guys. The Days' debut CD, The Mystery of the Watched Pot, was enviably good. Like the output of many independent bands from the pre-internet 90s, however, this great album is probably doomed to obscurity. I can't guarantee that there are any copies still in existence besides the one in my collection. Streaming clips and MP3s of The Days seem to be nonexistent and the only footage that I have found of them is this early and pretty murky clip from Club Dada.



(UPDATE! Streaming Days track found!  Also, album available here! Enjoy!)



Even with all of the available resources of the internet, relating a really good impression of what they were like when I was into them may be nearly impossible. However, the Days included many great cover songs in their set lists, and this one by The Grays fit them so well that I was convinced, for a very long time, that it was a Days original.

This track, written by Grays guitarist Buddy Judge, is from their singular 1994 release Ro Sham Bo. This album is also relatively obscure entry and has long been out of print, but it is an incredibly important recording in the 90s power pop timeline.  In retrospect, The Grays was a supergroup of incredible musicians before they became super. In addition to Judge, the Grays were also led by Jason Falkner, who had just left Jellyfish in frustration due to lack of creative input, and a young Jon Brion on bass whose studio career had just barely begun. Although all of these musicians had impressive resumes when they formed the Grays, their careers were still mostly in front of them. 



With three distinct songwriters the group, Ro Sham Bo could have been easily been uneven, but the album is unified by their common melodic interest and shared harmonic vocabulary, which allowed the divergences in their writing styles to add variety.



I had a copy of Ro Sham Bo in the mid 90s, thanks to the emergence of CD burning technology and the generosity of Paul, the Days' drummer. I eventually purchased a legit used copy from Amazon. Both this and The Mystery of the Watched Pot are amazing albums that are absolutely worth hunting down. They also have a personal nostalgic value because they mark off a period of time, one that I have been contemplating today in particular.

Mork hanging at the sink, circa 2005

Rick, the Days’ bassist, took a turn singing lead on their cover of Nothing and was the granddaddy of my cat Mork, who I lost this morning after a long and happy life.  Mork originally came from world of live gigs and bass rigs that existed long before I was a teacher or properly tied a white belt around my gi.  He traveled as my companion free of condition through some incredibly difficult times and saw me into happier ones.  I loved and appreciated him in ways that I am sure he did not fully understand, but I am convinced that, given the gift of words, he would have said the same about me.  Mork was, and probably always will be, the only cat I ever had the honor of really knowing.  I will miss him terribly.

March Roundup: Your Cat Needs Prozac

Photo Credit: Kate Wurtzel

Up until recently, I have had reason to believe my cat Mork is immortal. At sixteen years old, he is still incredibly spry and holds his own against his canine brother, who is well over forty pounds bigger and decade his junior. One of Mork’s more annoying quirks is that he has always been a bit vocal, especially at night. In the past, I’ve just administered aquatic therapy (aka, the squirt bottle) and after a couple of days he gets the hint. Recently, though, it’s been bad – really bad. He’s been wailing from 2-4 in the morning, and even dumping full glasses of water on him has done little to change his attitude.

If it was just me I would simply be annoyed. With the Little One on board, however, the situation is simply unacceptable, so I took Mork to the vet to see if there was a physical cause for this behavior. Several hundred (painful) dollars later, we out that he is incredibly healthy for a cat his age, he’s just going senile. While this paints a pretty pathetic picture, the lowdown is still lost hours of sleep and added hours of frustration. The veterinarian is sympathetic to our problem, however, and seems to understand that we want to do what we can for old Mork the Immortal as long as it is effective and sustainable. So my cat is on Prozac now. No kidding,

On to the roundup:

Carl Orff – Carmina Burana: Listening to this one for perspective on the band arrangement I’m teaching the kiddies. In spite of the liturgical immensity of this piece, the lyrics to this work center disturbingly on the secular topics of envy and lust for power.

Yamantaka // Stereo Titan - YT//ST: This group stands on the precipice of doing something genuinely novel, but still approachable. YT//ST has the dubious honor, however, of containing the first track that the Little One has ever consistently objected to.

The Who - Live at Leeds: If you've only heard the studio versions of their pre-1970 hits, you are missing out. Live at Leeds is one of the few live rock albums that I accept as a classic.

Hello = Fire: Dean Fertita is one of the "other" Raconteurs, and after spending several years on my list as an expensive import, his solo project finally came up under $10. Its middle-of-the-road “Sloanishness” was, unfortunately, a little disappointing as a whole.

John Coltrane - Giant Steps: Although you don't have to be a jazz expert to like Giant Steps, being acquainted with jazz theory certainly deepens the experience. I couldn't do what he does, but I can definitely appreciate (and be amazed) by it.

My Bloody Valentine - Loveless: After a two-year holding pattern, album is finally starting to click for me. Hailed as an influential classic by a host of 90s guitar bands, Loveless is indeed something different entirely than anything else that was happening at the time.

Stereolab - Cobra and Phases Group Play Voltage in the Milky Night: Bright, sunny, 60s style bubblegum pop crossbred with European lounge psudeo-jazz noodles. As a whole, the album is a bit overlong, but it certainly never grates.

Rush - 2112: On the merits of the title track alone, easily one of Rush's best works. Part of me did not want to move on to Farewell to Kings, but in the interest of time, I chose not to linger.

Rush - A Farewell to Kings: Rush opened up their sonic palate on this album and fully embraced the prog-rock paradigm. Keyboards played a more prominent role, and Peart's drumset expanded to include a variety of orchestral percussion.

Field Music - Plumb: For me, Field Music is the new Jellyfish. Plumb is an amazingly deep example of the work that still needs to be done in the power pop genre.

Dungen - Ta det lungt: I stumbled across this album several years ago at the same time I discovered Mew. I had good luck that year.

The White Stripes - Elephant: I've never really gone wrong with a White Stripes album, but Elephant is my favorite. Jack White writes consistently killer tunes and unapologetically delivers them, grit and all.

Frank Zappa - Waka Jawaka: This is one of Zappa's largely instrumental releases from the mid-70s. If you get Zappa’s distinctive stream-of-consciousness approach to melody, you'll love this album.

And one last album that is not represented on the playlist:

Beardfish - Mammoth: Unfortunately, this album exemplifies what I find tiresome about so much contemporary progressive rock. Even though it has funny time signatures and instrumental noodling, there doesn't seem to be much to hold on to.