Damian "Pink Eyes" (Fucked Up)

"I mainly listen to music when I'm walking around so I guess that is the ideal way. I guess this way the music takes on a sound track type quality. When we record the record I walk around and listen to the instrumentals and get ideas for the lyrics. Walking around has always made for the perfect environment to write for me. I have no idea why.... perhaps it is because there is nothing to completely distract but at the same time you can't be 100% focused. I makes for a sort of concentration limbo.

I am born and raised in Toronto and that played a huge part in who I am. Toronto is like a huge small town and it is a relatively safe (being a large male) so from an early age I was able to go around on my own and explore. I can't imagine living anywhere else. As for how it has affected us as a band: because everyone knows everyone we have been able to get the wide variety of guests on our records. If you want someone ton guest you just find a friend who knows them and get at them that way. Also Toronto hardcore at the time we started was an older scene so a lot of the music we liked wasn't really reflected by what was going on in Toronto so we had to kind of build our own scene.

Ancient Jerusalem, America (actually the western world in general) [played a part in the inspiration for The Chemistry of Common Life]. Toronto played a part but not so much specific places (with the exception of the bonus vinyl song which was inspired by the migrant worker camps in Johannesburg). The lyrics kinda work like my mind does, jumping from on subject to the next, so it is hard to point to a specific thing that inspires all the lyrics to a song. The next record though I want top focus on the history of the derfeated and conquered so there will most definitely be specific places.

I guess I look at music as being a very personal thing, a solitary activity. I hate to listen to music in clubs or bars. That is why it took me so long to start DJing, which is something I have tried a couple of times now and I kinda hate doing I also like to listen to music at my desk.

I love to listen to the stuff from the Best Show on the road. It is a halarious radio show from New Jersey. They have put out a few CDs on some of the best bits. I'm also a fan of the related Earles and Jensen stuff and Andy Earles stuff on the best show. Other then that stuff I listen to old pop-punk. I fand the futher I can get away from the music I will be seeing at the show that night the better.

My top 5 [tour records] would be:

NOFX-Punk In Drublic
The Best Show On WFMU - Hippy Justice
Earls and Jensen - Just Farr A Laugh
Best Show On WFMU - Best OF Andy Earls (bootleg)
Roky Erikson - Evil One"

Thanks to Damian (via Catherine) for the interview.

Ian Mackaye

"I remember reading a really interesting book about Australia that presented an alternative history. The author's point was that the official history of Australia really bears no relation to the real Australia. The official history bore no relation to the real one, but the people in charge, the people that toe the line, make decisions that people actually have to live with.

When Amy and I wrote “Everybody Knows”, we were thinking about Washington city as the economic capital, as the last place to go down, basically. So many people come into this city, and they're just passing through. They're just coming here to make their bones. It might be a college student, or it might be a lawyer, or it could be the president, but all of them are coming in just to take and are leaving like a bunch of frat kids. They don't give a fuck about about this city. It's almost like a vacation spot to them because they don't have anything invested in it, it's not their home.

The point of that song is about what it's like to live in a situation like that. People are just coming in and it's very hard for any one to actually lay any roots. For those of us who live here, we really hang on tight. People who live in this town have a tense relationship with it. I think it's because we're dismissed.

I can give you a really good example of what it's like to live in Washington. About eight or ten years ago, there was this republican, almost missionary, movement to name as many things as possible after Ronald Reagan. It was led by a group whose mission it was to name something after Ronald Reagan in every city in every county in the nation. They built the largest federal building in the district and called it, “The Ronald Reagan Building”. Of course, Ronald Reagan was no friend of Washington, not to the people who lived here, at least. They really grinded our faces in it though, when they decided that they would name the national airport, “Ronald Reagan National Airport”.

It had been our national airport forever, and they asked the people that own the airport who said, “no”. Then they asked northern Virgina where the airport is actually housed, and they said, “no”, as well. So they went to Maryland, which is the other side of Washington, and they rejected them also. It was uniformly rejected and they did it any way. To make matters worse, they sued any media outlets that refused to call the airport, “Reagan Airport”. They forced them to do it by law suit, it was incredible. This is a crystal clear example of the abuse that gets heaped upon the people that live in this city, and you can't say a fucking thing about it. At the end of the day, though, it's our city.

I also meant to talk [in that song] about the country. We have people who are really sick running the country, we have corporations that are wreaking such terrible havock, but ultimately it's our country. I'm not a nationalist, and I couldn't give a fuck about nationalism. I'm talking about that I woke up here, and I live here. This is where I spend my time, and that was really the point of the song.

Reclaiming has been a pretty central theme in my life, even from the very beginning. So many people thought that straight edge was fundamentalism, but really I was saying that I was just reclaiming the right for a person to be themselves. It was so obvious to me that we don't need to do what we're being told to do. We don't need to pay any one to do any thing for us, we have it already. I even have a song, “Reclamation”.

I'm also really interested in reclaiming language. There's a lot of word play that I use. People have really stolen certain words. An egregious example of that would be the term, “politically correct”. I always ascribe it to the Reagan revolution, the idea of taking “politically correct” and turning it into something that people really wouldn't want to be associated with. It's a very big brothery thing to do, to take words that sound right and tell people that they're wrong. It led to a kind of irony that trickled down into the underground. Punks would start using it to belittle other people and I would think that the conservatives have done really well here, they've really fucked up language and made us eat our own shit.

It's an ongoing practice by the government, and the military by the way, to deny the existence of certain conversations by changing the language used. They're not really taking responsibility for the fact that, and this is really the bottom line, the United States has employed people to murder other human beings around the world. They can call it whatever the fuck they want, but it's murder. Even the use of the word “war” is dubious; what kind of war is it where you don't have two sides? It's really cynical use of language.

The Dead Kennedys had this famous song, “Fuck Off Nazi Punks”, and there's all this wondering whether or not there were any Nazi punks before Jello told them to fuck off. In some ways, people fill in the blanks. I knew of some assholes, but didn't know of any Nazi punks to speak of. By the 80s, by the 90s even... I mean, Fugazi was playing shows in rooms with fourty guys doing the Nazi salute to us. I'm not blaming Jello for it, I'm just talking about language.

There are people in our world that I think suffer from a very deep pathology, and what they're suffering from is a disease really. They have anger and violence in their belly and they're looking for ways to express it, they want the toxicity out of them. They're looking for any way to release this poison from their system, and the triggers are very simple rules that can't be broken. Any breaking of these rules becomes an invitation to violence.

I think that even in a situation like, “Fuck Off Nazi Punks”, the idea is that people might say, “that sounds like me, I'm in”. I'm not blaming Jello but it was a really specific choice of words on his part and in a way, I never knew of a Nazi punk before that. I sure as fuck came to know them afterwards.

I can remember really clearly during the 80s, when the skinhead thing was really intense, and The Dead Kennedys had played a show where there was this big confrontation with these skinhead guys. Jello and I had come to a real disagreement about how to contend with the situation. We each had our own batch of skinheads in each of our towns, in San Francisco and Washington.

Jello's position was that you had to fight them and beat them out of your city. My position was that was the only language they spoke, so why engage them with the weapons of their choosing? My position was get to know their names and refuse to fight them because if someone's built to fight and you refuse to fight, they get bored and then they leave. Since I think of assholes as a virus, you could line up every fucked up skinhead guy in the city and kill them, there's just going to be another round, you can't stop it, it just takes different forms. I decided that we just needed to get through this with as little bloodshed as possible.

I don't control the venues or the pricing in the venues I play, I control myself. I decide whether or not I'm going to play in those places. That's really the crux of it, with all this stuff. It's really a yes or no, especially with Fugazi, for instance. It wasn't that we had control of the situation, what we had was a giant, big, fucking no. We said no so many more times that we said yes, it would make your head spin. We said no to so many things that you might think were opportunities. We just turned things down left and right because we knew that we would have to be selective if we were to be in a comfortable place for doing what we wanted to do.

This wasn't only after we were popular, by the way. From the very beginning of the band, we said no. For instance, I will never play a show that is not all ages. I don't even go to punk shows in DC that aren't all ages because I think that it is unethical to discriminate against somebody because he or she was born in a certain year and not before it. I think that it is a discouraging and disgusting cave to the alcohol industry. If you can't get into a show because you're not old enough to drink, isn't it kind of obvious what's going on?

The fact that people would let their music, and by extension, music submit to the complete fiction that rock n' roll and music are somehow intertwined is insane. Music has been around forever and longer than the music industry, than the alcohol industry, than alcohol itself. Music was a form of communication that I think probably predates language. How did music become something that you have to go to a bar to see? Something is deeply fucked up with that."

- Thanks to Ian for the interview.

No space?

I've created a myspace page, really just to use for contacting people, but feel free to add it, it's "Place Project".

In the meantime, here's something that's been making January sound just that bit better:

Jamie Stewart

"this is my work space aka studio aka volcano aka hades aka moth orgy aka crammed with cum bath tub.

[Xiu Xiu should be listened to] on an asteroid where there is no oxygen so you do not have to hear it.

traveling makes my mind stop working. i can only make a vague outline of music in a little notebook. later when i get home there is a thick red marker that transfers the little note book idea into the big notebook.

oakland, torino, berlin, los angeles, iowa, sacramento and guantanamo [have inspired Dear God, I Hate Myself]

[i like to listen to music] in a car when i am far away from home but not on tour. i can concentrate but am also inspired by a new place.

la sala rosa in montreal, bowery ballroom in new york, london, the donau festival in krems austria, the lemp art center in st, louis [are my favourite venues]. the people there make a great place to play.

my little studio [inspires me], or at least it had better or i am fucked. it inspires me by always be so THERE all the time waiting for me to use it. it lends itself to writing because i can record my lame ideas there.

[Favourite records to listen to while traveling]

her finest hour by nina simone
the queen is dead by thee smithessssssssss
lamentate by arvo part
air above mountains by cecil taylor
the radio to hear new beats
any record that sounds new even though you have heard it 1000000 times. one needs to be stimulated when one is already being stimulated by newness. drink hot tea on a hot day."

Thanks to Jamie for the interview. Also up at: http://www.xiuxiu.org

Doug McCombs

"These days I guess people mostly listen to music while commuting or walking around doing their daily routine. I would recommend listening to music while sitting in front of the stereo, preferably while looking at the gatefold sleeve that came with the record. Actually, something I prefer to that is listening to music on long road trips (possibly a distance that wouldn't qualify as commuting). Driving is inextricably connected to rock n roll. Wide open spaces, etc seem to make me pay more attention to music.

When I tour on a bus I hardly listen to any music at all. When I tour in a van I listen to lots of music. Television/solo Tom Verlaine, Latin Playboys, Neil Young Zuma, Link Wray, ZZ Top, I like awesome guitars when I'm driving.

The history of [Chicago]and it's culture... is very important to me personally and I'm pretty sure to our band as well. As we've grown and traveled, other places have become important to us also (some more than others), but being in Chicago is our grounding. Chicago has many flaws, but as a place to live and create it is refreshingly low on bullshit and has a strong work ethic. Sometimes good things that happen here are overlooked because Chicagoans bullshit meters are at such a high level that they are loathe to self-promote.

There used to be a venue in Chicago called Lounge Ax. Bad name, great place to play. Friendly staff, good PA, homey feeling. Now there's a place called the Hideout. I like playing in Chicago the best.

I write music sitting in front of the TV. I think zoning out opens my subconscious a little bit or something. Deserts, forests, bodies of water [inspire me]. I like cities too, especially if it's possible to see the layers of history in the place."

Thanks to Doug (via Rowan) for the interview.

Sleeping States

"This picture is of Aldeburgh beach. Aldeburgh is a small fishing town on the east coast of England in the county of Suffolk, where the composer Benjamin Britten lived for many years, with his partner, the tenor Peter Pears. It's also the setting for Britten's opera, Peter Grimes, about a fisherman who is accused of murder. It's one of my father's favourite pieces of music and he took me to visit Aldeburgh several years ago, when I was studying at university in that area of the country. The sculpture in the picture is The Scallop, which was commissioned as a tribute to Benjamin Britten. There's a song on Gardens called On The Beach At Aldeburgh, which recollects the visit with my father, as well as referring to Britten's own music.

I generally listen to music most when I'm walking around. I think because of that I recorded Gardens with headphones specifically in mind, I like the way the music blends in with the acoustics of the environment. There's this album by the band Charalambides called Unknown Spin, which is very sparse and quiet, and I loved listening to that while I walked around as the music blended in so well with the surrounding sounds, rather than blotting it out like a lot of music does. I think I tried to achieve some of that with Gardens.

I think my music is very influenced by my environment. My writing is largely observational, I tend to describe what's around me and go from there. I took some creative writing classes when I was at university years ago, and I discovered I was very much one of those writers whose stories were all description and no plot, and so for me song lyrics seem a good format for my style of writing - I mean, I think I'm more happy writing vignettes than epics.

These days I do tend to listen to music on my ipod most of all - I walk to work so I listen to it a lot then. My record player died over a year ago and in my current place I don't really have room for another one, but I've promised myself that when I move again in the next few months I'll get a new one. I still really enjoy listening to LPs and there are certain records that even though I love them I definitely wouldn't buy or listen to them as mp3s on my ipod. Like Gastr Del Sol or Silver Jews and stuff, I'm not sure why, they just seem better suited to vinyl to me.

[On London and Brighton] It's true that a lot of musicians and artists flock to London to be part of that community, and I thrived in it for several years. But ultimately I think because there are so many musicians and so on trying to get themselves heard, there's this competitive edge that I didn't really like. Making music is a love of mine but it's not a career, and that distinction is very important to me - making music is an end in itself, not a means to achieving something greater, and while its great that people like what I put out, that's never been a driving force. And in Bristol I think the music scene is more in keeping with that mindset, and there is a very supportive and creative scene here. Because the vast majority of the national media is based in London and is predominantly concerned with what's happening on its own doorstep, the regional communities (such as Bristol) seem freer to create without the pressure of trying to get noticed or whatever. Also, there were other reasons for moving to Bristol not related to music, job and so forth - but that seems to cover the creative side of things I guess.

There's a place in Bristol called the Cube Cinema that's really great. It's volunteer run and has one screen that they screen arthouse films and stuff and they also put on bands in the same theatre as the screen is set at the back of a stage. It's really tiny, like I think there's only about 120 seats in there, but there's always a great atmosphere, either playing or watching other bands. I did the Gardens album launch there which was really fun, my drummer and cellist covered the stage in branches and leaves and flowers and things, it looked pretty rural. I saw Carla Bozulich there a few weeks ago and she was amazing.

I am a true bedroom musician, 90% of everything I write (and many of the recordings, certainly the earlier ones) is done there, mainly because I have everything to have here and if I get a musical idea in my head I like to act on it quickly. Also I'm therefore surrounded by my books and record collection and so forth, which really helps to draw on while I'm making music. Although I'm now living with other people again I did live on my own throughout the period of writing and recording In the Gardens of the North, and I was grateful for the space and the opportunity to spread my stuff out a bit.

Because I'm very into recording atmospheres of wherever I'm recording the songs and keeping them in the mixes - I often even put a microphone by the window to capture what's going on outside. So in that way the locations become more than just the place where I made the recordings but an active layer in the recordings. I've always liked music recorded in this way. The Swedish singer Stina Nordenstam's album of covers (People Are Strange) was a very influential album on me when it came out in the late nineties, particularly in terms of recording. It doesn't really fit in with the 'lofi' tag, but it sounds very homemade in parts and she leaves in all sorts of atmosphere recordings throughout the songs. Her cover of Rod Stewart's Sailing gives such a wonderful impression of the room she recorded it in - it sounds like she left the window open."

Thanks to Markland for the interview. Check out Sleeping States here: http://www.sleepingstates.co.uk/

White Sands National Monument, New Mexico

A Sunny Day In Glasgow

"just took a photo at dealy plaza, where jfk was shot. the misfits sing about jfk.

SMCJ was recorded all in my apartment and it was all direct-in. not much space there. but for ashes grammar we did record it in a huge warehouse type place. i feel like this definitely had an impact on things. we were able to experiment alot with sounds and natural reverb and natural harmonics and stuff like that.

I dont think [the place you listen to A Sunny Day In Glasgow] really matters. for me, i like it in headphones, walking around a city in your own little world. probably in the rain.

I love [listening to music] on the train. i love travelling because you have no problems when you are travelling. there's nothing you can do about anything. you just have to get where you are going. so i love to stare out the window and listen to music and forget about my life

i've gotten alot of mileage from my time in scotland and london. it was wonderful to get to live there for a few years. i didnt really write any music in those places, but when i got back i wrote alot about that time. my year in glasgow happened to coincide with alot of really bad things happening in my life and i was pretty depressed there. and then it never occurred to me that it could rain everyday in a place and that the sun might go away one day and not come back for weeks. so when the sun came out it was like taking alot of drugs or something. it was just an intense part of my life and those sunny days were just really special to me. i think scotland is the most beautiful place i've ever been. i am also a fan of Maine.

I live in Sydney now, but the band is in philly and i've spent the rest of my life in philly. it's a great place to live. not too expensive, lots of kids, lots of music. i seem to be only able to write songs in philly too. i am little scared about living in sydney now.

we are on tour now. i am listening to the following alot:

jj #2 by jj
wasp's nest by the 6ths
charm of the highway strip by magnetic fields
the xx
go betweens
shakira
the association"

Thanks to Ben (via Steph) for the interview.

Xmas Haitus

Just a quick note to say that I'll only be able to update this blog sporadically as I'm in Arizona currently till January 4th. That being said, I have interviews from A Sunny Day In Glasgow and Sleeping States to upload. In January I'll start uploading some of my Arizona blog.

Kerala Diary Excerpt Pt. 4

Here's the fourth and final instalment of a diary I wrote while I visited Kerala, India, this August with my family.

"14/8/09

Our second and final day in Munnar. No one seems too happy about our accommodation. A rat was running through my parents tree house last night and my brothers are similarly unimpressed by their night time visitors.
First today we head to Erivakulam National Park, which is home to a rare species of goat, the Nilgiri Tahr. Initial impressions are less than hopeful as the drive to the park is eclipsed by mist. The park itself is not like any national park I have ever visited, seeming more like a large hill with a man-made road acting as a walk-way. Although we are told that the goats are not out today, my older brother and I spot two when we reach the top. They look like healthier, cuddlier versions of the common goat we’ve been seeing all over Kerala. Not incredible, but not a disappointment.
We head for an excellent lunch in a pretty plush hotel in Munnar. For some reason they are playing dance music from the 90s here. I identify Underworld amongst others. The hotel is nice and sparks my parent on to ask if there are rooms available. There aren’t, but it sends Saji on a quest to find an alternative to “Nature Zone”. Eventually we find one in Munnar that seems perfectly fine. I am pleased as there is internet and so I will be able to finally email A., a task I have been unable to do for eight days.
Today I have been mainly listening to “I <3 CAMPING”. I’m in much more of a compilation style mood today. I start to think about how itunes may have revived that old wonderful tradition of making mixtapes. They are so easy to make using it, I wonder if purists would argue that something has been lost in the lack of having to sit down and physically transfer every song to tape. Still, I love mixtapes and like how accessible they have become. Making people mixtapes is a lot of fun.
The dinner at the new hotel is excellent, I have a beer and settle down to listen to “Wind’s Poem”, the new Mt. Eerie album, and play some Kirby on the DS.
I was recently joking with a friend that there appears to be no appropriate time to listen to this record, so dark and elemental are its sounds. But listening to the rain falling in the mountains and I think I may have found the perfect occasion. I think this record is a big step up from Phil Elverum’s last Mt Eerie album proper. Although I enjoyed “Lost Wisdom”, I was dying something more akin to his Microphones releases, which I love so much. I think much ink will be spilled discussing the alleged “black metal” influences in this album, but it sounds very much, to me, as a maturer Elverum at work here. It’s dark, sure, but there are some epic moments of emotion and sustained cavernous melody found in the droning keyboards and Twin Peaks references. As a songwriter, Elverum appears to have overcome what has recently been holding him back, a morbid self-referentiality that bordered on outright boredom at points, and replaced it with a rediscovered awe at the elements, in this case, the wind. The wind is all over this album, in the lyrics, in the heavily spacious production, in the liberal use of the ride cymbal, and the aforementioned keyboard motifs. This renewed focus makes “Wind’s Poem” a truly fascinating and, most importantly, a rewarding listen; it’s an album you can spend hours with discovering new things. It’s so nice to see Elverum regain his sense of wonder again, even if it is a dark one.

16/8/09

Today we leave Munnar and head to Madurai, the “city of temples”, in neighbouring state, Tamil Nadu. Madurai is roughly 5 hours south east of Munnar. To get there, we have to drive out of the mountains. While we drive down, I check my ipod. I don’t have much charge left. I elect to listen to two Neil Young albums, “Harvest” and “Living With War”, “The Body, The Blood, The Machine” by The Thermals, and “Wind’s Poem” again by Mt Eerie.
Neil Young is someone I got into relatively late, “After the Gold Rush” being the first of his albums I purchased (from Fopp for £5) at roughly 22. Despite this, I keep wanting to get more and more of his material, and I am slowly building up a small collection. “Harvest”, from 1972, is not as easy an album to listen to as “After…”, using more, and harsher orchestration. I am enjoying it though. “Living With War”, one of Young’s more recent records is, in my opinion, vastly underrated. Sure, the production and politics are a little thrown in the listener’s face, but there’s something powerfully sad and angry about this music and the time it was written was certainly a time for a call to arms. The Thermals album is similarly inspired by the Bush era and is likewise angry, although heading more towards a pop punk aesthetic. Still, this music kills when it’s done well (see “Pinkerton”), and this is definitely done well.
The change from Kerala to Tamil Nadu is more intense than any of us expected and catches us all a little off guard. The land is flatter, sparser, and almost dessert-like. There are more people here and the poverty is more intense, much like the north.
We arrive at Madurai and check into the hotel. To my delight, there is internet here which I will later use to email A. again quickly. We meet out temple guide, Meena, who is named after the famous Meenashki temple, which we will be visiting. “Meenashki” means “fish eyes” and seems an unfortunate name on this basis. Meena takes us to a palace and the temple, which is one of the most impressive temples I’ve seen in India, containing numerous towers covered in statues and painted various bright colours, of which, blue and purple are used most often: the colours of Vishnu, whose wife Parvatti this temple is dedicated to. After the temple we return to the hotel and have an excellent, but late, dinner (9pm) and depart to our rooms."

Spiced Lentils to Lambchop

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/feb/07/vegetarian-recipe-spiced-lentils-yogurt

Andrew Kenny (American Analog Set/The Wooden Birds)

"I've always thought that the American Analog Set was great driving music. The Wooden Birds probably fall into that category as well. There's something about quiet repetition that works well with driving because your attention needs to shift from time to time. It's a bit like listening to a conversation, but drifting away for a moment. When you return, you still understand what's happening even though a point has been made and the conversation has moved on a little bit.

I moved back [to Austin] because I thought it would be a good place to start the Wooden Birds project. Now a year an a half later, I'm the only Wooden Bird that lives in Austin and the only shows we've played here have been on tour or at SXSW.

That being said, Austin really is a great place for music. It's an oasis in the middle of Texas, culturally, socially, politically, and geographically. Creative people make music here. People go to shows here. The city as a whole recognizes that music is a part of what makes Austin interesting.

Living in Brooklyn, my favorite place to listen to music was the on subway. In Austin, my favorite place to listen to music is on my bicycle or in the car. If I had to look for a common thread, I'd have to say it's that I most often do these things by myself. Maybe there are times that music is too distracting for conversation. And it can be too personal and sometimes embarrassing to experience that range of emotion when you're with other people.

[On the best venues to play]There are a few. Schubas in Chicago. The Great American Music Hall in SF. The Bowery in NY come to mind immediately. I like the way these venues sound and that's (probably?) important. There are any number of ways that a show can become memorable. Most fall into two categories though. Either your band sounds good there, like the few I mentioned just now or the crowd just makes it a great show. It is an interactive experience, after all. For that reason, I'd have to include the Astra Strube and Tanzhalle in Hamburg where I've played 2 of the most memorable shows of my life.

For me, space in music comes from patience. And patience is one of those virtues that home recordists can afford to have. Take that with a grain of salt, of course, because I've really only been on the DIY side of this particular fence.

Music comes in pieces for me. Guitar at home. Lyrics most often away from home. I don't know why that's always been the case.

My top 5 records from tour this Fall (not including books on cd and mixes) were:

Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix Phoenix
The Dark Leaves Matt Pond PA
Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere Neil Young
Origin:Orphan The Hidden Cameras
3 Rounds and a Sound Blind Pilot"

Thanks to Andrew (via Ever) for the interview.

Kerala Diary Excerpt Pt. 3

...and here's another excerpt from a diary I was writing in Kerala, India this August.

"13/8/09

Today we are travelling to the Munnar Region, one of the few mountainous parts of Kerala. Situated roughly 150km to the west of Kochi, Munnar is famous for tea plantations and exotic wildlife.
We also switch drivers and cars, from Sajeev to Saji, and from an estate to a twelve seater coach.
I decide to spend the four hour journey listening to my ipod. Driving through Kochi, and struggling to pick something to listen to, I eventually settle on “Catacombs” by Cass McCombs. For whatever reason, this has become my default album, meaning that I tend to listen to it in situations where I can’t decide what to listen to. There’s something beautifully relaxed about this record, despite containing some pretty intense music. McCombs’ sense of space and his willingness to let songs play out as long as they need (almost six minutes in some cases) fits my desire to relax and take in the sights of driving through Kochi, which today looks as inviting as ever with its mix of green jungle and brightly coloured houses. There are less people here than there are in the north which makes it a far more comfortable environment to traverse. “Catacombs” takes me all the way through Kochi and into the surrounding jungle. I change my mind about the two tracks near the end, I like them more now. It occurs to me that I am always soundtracking my life and that the only other places where soundtracks occur are tv and film. I wonder if this involves me more in my environment or creates an imaginary boundary. Could this be unhealthy?
Next up, I pick Elliott Smith. I remember that his has been the only “celebrity” death I have lived through to have had an emotional impact on me. There is something so personal and particular about his music which makes the listener really feel like they’re listening to him the man rather than a pop singer. I pick, “From the Basement on the Hill”, his last, and posthumous, release.
In many respects, “From a Basement…” shouldn’t have been as good an album as it is. It had been a long time since Smith had released anything, and his last, “Figure 8”, was not particularly good, and “From…” was compiled after his death. All these signs point to a potential misfire of an album which is why it is so surprising that it actually serves as good a “final” album as any Elliott Smith fan could have hoped for. The production is not as stale as “Figure 8”, the subject matter sticks pretty closely to what Smith’s best at – sensitive, semi-miserable, often heart-breaking songs about mistaken relationships and substance abuse, and Smith himself sounds, somewhat tragically, very alive. It’s nice to listen to it and think about the man and his music as I watch the jungle woosh past. It would be remiss of me here not to mention that “New Moon”, the compilation of rarities released after “From a Basement…”, is similarly fantastic, and even more intimate a listening experience.
We’re driving uphill now. The Munnar region is 6,000 feet above sea level so we’ll be driving uphill for a while. We stop for tea and afterwards something draws me towards “Life is Full of Possibilities” by DNTEL.
I think that this album may achieve forgotten masterpiece status at some point. It was at risk of this not long after its release when The Postal Service album became far more popular than the Ben Gibbard DNTEL collaboration on “Life…” ever was, despite the latter’s superiority, at least in my opinion.
“Life…” trade in organic keyboard swell, glitchy beats, and just enough guest vocalists so that it is not overwhelmed by a multitude of actors. The subject matter is shamelessly bleak, but the music itself, as so much great music does, transcends this totally. It’s an album of incredible depth and warmth, something that you can bury yourself in entirely. It can be an intense listening experience, but an incredibly rich one nonetheless. I have so many memories attached to it, so obsessed with it was I when it came out. For instance, it reminds me very much of various trips I made with a friend to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Dundee from Aberdeen, my hometown, on the megabus. I have a distinctive image of the grey and green Scottish countryside with rain pouring and hitting the windows of the bus. Other strong memories are attached to “(This is the Dream Of) Evan and Chan”, the aforementioned Gibbard collaboration. It’s a song that itself inspires nostalgia, containing lyrics like, “He then played every song from 1993, the crowd applauded as he curtseyed bashfully, your eyebrows tickled my neck with every nervous blink…”, and still stands as the my favourite track Gibbard has ever contributed to. It’s amazing.
We’re almost there, we’ve climbed quite high now. The jungle looks so beautiful with a combination of rubber palms, eucalyptus trees, and banana plants. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of an amazing looking flower or insect. I start listening to Tiny Vipers’ “Life on Earth”.
I must be a sucker for intensity at the moment, as this wonderful folk album, which has only recently been released, is a lot to take in. Still, the singer’s voice is incredible and there is something so rough and damaged sounding about the music that give it such a fragile and commanding presence. It’s a long record, perhaps too long, but like “Catacombs” there is something admirable about music that takes as long as it needs.
We arrive at Munnar, which is a small town overlooking incredible bright and dark green coloured tea fields that are eclipsed by a kinetic grey mist that makes the place feel like a Myazaki film. We have to transfer from our coach to a jeep to get to our hotel, “Nature Zone”, which is further up a rough stone-filled road. We drive up past more tea fields and jungle, all looking mysterious and interesting.
“Nature Zone” itself is composed of free-standing tents, a restaurant structure, and some tree houses where we will be staying. The tree houses are high up but are well-constructed, with some flaws. Because the structures are built around the trees themselves, there is a giant, living tree trunk in the room with holes surrounding it. Holes are no good if mosquitos are to be kept out. Living tree trunks are no good if tropical insects are to kept out as we will learn later, when a giant stick insect will visit Owen in the night.
The staff at “Nature Zone” seem unfortunately deficient of any knowledge about nature, which is sad although we identify from our balcony some of the giant squirrels native to this region. The look like something in between a monkey and a squirrel, more like a lemur than anything else. Kind of cute. Dinner is good but takes a long time. In the evening I play Kirby on the DS and work on a letter for A."

Front Squats to "Heimdalsgate Like A Promethean Curse"

This has become my new favourite gym record. I have no idea why, but no one quite does happiness and madness quite like Kevin Barnes.

Memory Records - The Glow Pt. 2

"I took my shirt off in the yard. No one saw that the skin on my shoulders was golden. Now it's not, my shirt's back on, the glow is gone..."


It's a dreary rainy day here in Toronto. I feel it's appropriate, given the short interviews I uploaded with Phil Elverum and Memory Tapes to post another memory record. This time I want to talk about "The Glow Pt. 2" by The Microphones, the name for Phil's solo work prior to Mt Eerie.

Released in September 2001, "The Glow Pt. 2" is my favourite Microphones album, and I'm sure I'm not alone. Like "Kid A", which I discussed previously, it has a unique atmosphere, and, similarly, feels incredibly intimate at points. Where latter holds its intimacies close to its chest, however, the former is raw and full of immediate feeling. Part of this is due to the analogue equipment Elverum uses, where every sound is wrapped in warmth and static. It's an album that is very much alive, as symbolized by its repeating heart-beat drum motif and distortion. Like a lot of my favourite music, it's a headphones record.

It's a labour of love in multiple senses. First, literally, as it was reportedly inspired by heart-break (read Elverum's journal, "Dawn" for an insight into this). Second, it's so intricately layered and produced that it must have been meticulously crafted and planned (especially as it wasn't recorded digitally).

When I heard it, it was a revelation of sorts. While I'd always loved lo-fi music, I'd never heard anything so ambitious recorded by one person, on a presumably small budget. It was inspiring, and still is; a cathartic and troubled bedroom record on a grand scale, a universally personal experience.

As I listen to it now, I associate it with several memories:

- When I lived in Aberdeen, Scotland, I always walked home the same route. The final part involved a street on a hill with large looming houses (some of the most expensive in the city) and ominous gardens. There's something bewildering about big houses in the dark, they take on a life of their own. When I listen to this album I don't remember this part of my walk but the street after it that leads up to the intersection thirty seconds walk from my front door. I remember having "The Glow Pt.2" on CDR in the wrong order as a friend had downloaded mp3s from the internet without knowing the track-listing. I'm listening to the first track "I Want Wind To Blow" in the dark. The streets are empty. All the lights in the houses are out. I'm alone.

- My friends used to stay over in Garthdee, an area of Aberdeen around fourty minutes walk from my house. It's close to the river Dee and the surrounding area of trees and grass. A number of the houses are wooden, which is unusual as the majority of the homes in Aberdeen are made from granite. I remember having mushrooms at my friend's place and putting on "The Glow Pt. 2". Sometimes mushrooms have the wonderful effect of accentuating the music you're listening to, and in this instance the organic sound of the music became a part of the trip. I could see the walls pulsate with the rhythm. I became convinced that I was the captain of a ship.

Memory Tapes

"It amazes me how many people, including my friends, don't listen to music on real speakers or nice headphones anymore. I imagine a lot of people don't give music the time to make the right kind of sense to them and it's a shame. Would you have sex while you watch TV?

I'm from New Jersey, sort of the Pine Barrens area between Philly and the shore. It's a big influence on my writing... the combo of the suburban strip-mall thing that is very NJ and also the giant forrest; I like the hybrid of those elements. My friends and I used to take a boombox down to the beach at night and blast music...that was always a pretty ideal spot. I remember one time in particular we were making our way through the dunes in the dark and listening to "In Search Of Space" by Hawkwind... definitely a good way to hear that record.

I always liked house shows. It just feels more natural to be in someone's living room playing for people all around than to be up on a stage having an awkward conversation with some sound guy you can't really see or hear at the back of the room with a crowd of people at your feet.

[On inspiring places] The basement in my parents house was my room as a kid, it has never changed since the 70s and the decor is very of that era. I always used to love writing down there because I felt sort of out of time, [but] I'll write anywhere. My life is pretty fucked as far as my circumstances, so if I needed some sort of ideal zone to work I'd never get anything done!"

Thanks to Dayve for the Interview.

Kerala Diary Excerpt Pt. 2

"8/8/09
I arrive in Dubai airport. It’s roughly 6.45pm here. I try to convince my body of this. The airport itself, or what I have access to, is impressive. Near my gate is an elaborate indoor garden complete with Koi Carp pond. I approach the water and the fish come up to great me. I’m reminded of a similar pond in some public gardens at home in Scotland that I used to visit as a kid. The fish would suck at your fingers thinking it was food.
I restart, “I <3 CAMPING” and “Dayvan Cowboy” by Boards of Canada comes on. It’s appropriate music for being so spaced out right now. I think that it’s also one of the few serviceable songs from “The Campfire Headphase” which was such a dissapointment after “Geogaddi”. I buy some samosas and an apple and pear drink from a store. Both are very good although I have no idea how much I paid.
“This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody)” by Talking Heads comes on. I have lots of good memories attached to this song, mostly too private to share but two stick out: being on tour in Brighton and hearing “Speaking in Tongues” for the first time, and a trip to Toronto waterfront last week where we accidentally stumbled on a free showing of “Stop Making Sense”, the live Jonathan Demme film of Talking Heads.
Talking Heads are a difficult band to negotiate at first, I think. Simultaneously accessible and inaccessible, the lesson learned from time spent with their music is that sometimes it’s best not to over-analyse things. “I’m just an animal, looking for a home”, what a line! I wish I could write lyrics like David Byrne, who can say so much with so little.
Waiting for the plane that will take me to Kochi, Kerala, I listen to The Rural Alberta Advantage and The Antlers. I enjoy both although find each albums relentless commitment to the same distraught tone a little overwhelming. Also, “Sylvia” by The Antlers rips off “Somewhere Only We Know” by Keane about half-way through. Still, both are enjoyable and “Don’t Haunt This Place” by RAA is fantastic.
I notice that I’m still hungry. I return to the same place and pick up some spring rolls. “Back again?” the woman behind the counter asks. “Still hungry”, I reply and smile. I use the washroom and come out to find my plane being boarded. Really not feeling The Antlers album now, but I’m not sure why. Too forced, perhaps?
I board the flight, listening to Cass McCombs. “Morning Shadow” sounds especially good at the moment. This plane is less impressive than the previous one. There are still T.V.s in the seats but it looks like the movies stream live rather than providing the choice. The flight will take roughly five hours, a lot less than expected. I take a lemon drink and a hot towel. I spend five minutes with the latter, rolling it up to see if I can still remember how to roll a cigarette. I turn off my ipod for take-off and start making faces at myself in the reflection of the T.V. screen. I hope noone is watching.
I sleep for a bit but keeping banging my head off of things and waking up. The in-flight meal, a vegetarian curry, is good. I end up watching half of “The Devil Wears Prada”. Feeling slightly strange now, and consider listening to the amazing “Wind’s Poem”, by Mt. Eerie. I decide against it. It’s such an intense album. I struggle to find a good time/place to listen to it. Recently, on a late bus from Buffalo to Toronto, I put it on but kept falling asleep and waking up during the most intense points. There was a storm going on outside.

9/8/09

I arrive at Kochi airport after an hour or two more. It takes me roughly half an hour to an hour to get my bag and go through customs who are, generally, fairly efficient and reasonable. At the entrance of the airport I meet Sajeev, the driver for the next nineteen days, who is holding a sign saying “NICHOLAS FENN”. It’s four thirty a.m. and I discover that poor Sajeev has been waiting here for three hours. Luckily it takes only half an hour to arrive at Le Royale, the guest house where my family and I will be staying in Kochi. I go to bed and get roughly five or six hours sleep. After waking up, I shower and dress, and wonder what I’m going to do today on my own.
Going downstairs, I find a place mat and cutlery set out for me. A man, whose name I forget, makes me an amazing breakfast with papaya, mango, pineapple, toast, and eggs. In the middle of this, Jenny and her husband arrive. My father has booked this holiday through Jenny, who talks to me a little about Keralan politics. I discover that, although the Indian Communist Party has been in power for a while, they will be being voted out next year in favour of the Indian Congress Party, who are slightly more right wing. Similarly, the Communist Party haven’t really been progressive, Sajeev informs me later, since prior to the reformation of the state Jenny and her husband are history professors, and have four children, one of whom is studying medicine in the Philipines, and the other three are triplets (two boys and a girl), twelve years old and still at school.
After breakfast, Sajeev drives me on a sight-seeing tour of Kerala, which I am finally seeing in the day light. Everything is very green. It’s like an Indian Massachusets, but with palm trees. There is so much water here, too. Apparently there are four large rivers in Kerala. We visit Sajeev’s house in the village he lives. So nice to be invited here. I meet Sajeev’s brother, nephew, niece, mother, and father, and eat local Keralan delicacies; banana fried in rice flour, popadoms in rice flour, a savoury crispy fried semolina and something else I forget. Later we visit Cherai beach, where Sajeev tells me the locals like to visit. It’s beautiful, and so amazing to see the Arabian sea. I feel to privileged to be here. I listen to the ocean, one of my favourite sounds, as it roars and I fantasize about going on a motorcycle adventure. Must email A. about this. We walk along the beach. On the journey back to Le Royale, I am falling asleep. Everything is like a bizarre beautiful dream right now. I need coffee, though. It’s five thirty.
Later, I listen to “Rolling Home Alone” by Jason Lytle from his brilliantly understated solo album, “Yours Truly, the Commuter”. I love this song. The melody wilfully tugs at the heart-strings but does so so effectively that you forget how simple it is. Another effect use of lyrics that would fall outside of their musical context; “I bought you something nice”. Freed of the Grandaddy moniker, “Yours Truly…” is free of any grand ambitions and is, purely, a great album. Perhaps it will soundtrack more of this trip."

Kerala Diary Excerpt

I was in Kerala, India this August for three weeks with my family. During the trip I kept a diary while I was listening to music. As it's relevant to the theme of this blog, I'm going to publish (relevant) excerpts.

"7/8/09

Airports are the way I imagine heaven is; lots of light, constant repetition, sterile, static, and stuck in no particular time whatsoever. “Heaven”, David Byrne once sang, “is a place where nothing ever happens”. I’m sitting in Toronto Pearson airport where I will catch a flight to Dubai, then Kochi (Cochin), India. I think the flights will take me, in total, 23 hours, but I am unaware of the accuracy of my calculations.
I’m listening to the Wooden Birds album which seems to work perfectly in jolting some kind of life into the dead canvas around me. I’m listening to the Wooden Birds, but I’m thinking about Thom Yorke, who has enjoyed somewhat of a renaissance on my headphones ever since I heard his cover of Miracle Legion’s “All For The Best”, which is Yorke’s contribution to “Ciao My Shining Star…”, a tribute album to Mark Mulcahy whose wife was recently tragically killed in an accident.
On first listen, there is nothing remarkable about “All For The Best”. A glitchy, unremarkable beat begins the song only to be accompanied by some fairly basic keyboard swells. What works so well about this track is not groundbreaking production but, as demonstrated more than ever by 2007’s “In Rainbows”, Yorke’s fantastic ability to isolate and emphasize the right melodies at the right time. Though the accompaniment to Yorke’s singing builds subtly and effectively, it’s his perfect, lethargic singing that really stands out here. I listen to it again and love it, especially the “say you love me” coda.
After listening, I revisit some other Yorke albums. First up, “The Eraser”, Yorke’s only, to date, solo outing. It’s not brilliant by any stretch, but there is some fantastic stuff here, particularly the title track, “Black Swan’, and “Cymbal Rush”, of which there is a good remix by The Field.
Next up is the recently released “Harry Patch (In Memory Of)”, a tribute to the last surviving UK soldier from WW1. Using just strings and vocals, it’s effective, and touching, utilizing well on the lessons learned from the luscious production on “In Rainbows”. I read a review of this track on Pitchfork today that gave the track 7/10. Almost the right score, but the review itself was bizarre, concentrating mainly on the author’s apparent desire to claim that they liked it while admitting that they could see why their friends didn’t. More assertiveness please.
On the bus to the airport today I listened to “Amnesiac”. Although I like some of the tracks, it always seemed, and still does, like a collection of random tracks whose main similarity is their being recorded at the same time. It really lacks the flawless cohesiveness and immaculate sequencing of “Kid A” and stands, with “Hail to the Thief” as one of the weaker of Radiohead’s recent work, “Kid A” and “In Rainbows” being my current favourites.
I’m not sure what time it is but I think it must be boarding soon. I put on “Document”, by REM, but quickly get bored of it. It’s by no means bad, I love REM, but as I watch the que of people board the plane, I get a pang of nostalgia and put on a mix I made for A., “I LOVE CAMPING VOL.1”. The reason behind the name is that we seem to have spent a bit of time recently driving places in New York State and camping. “Exhuming MCCarthy” gives way to “Stand-Ins, One” followed by “Lost Coastlines” both of course from “The Stand-Ins” by Okkervil River. I’ve started my mix with two tracks that follow each other on the same album. I wonder if I’m breaking some sort of mix-tape code, but quickly dismiss this. The instrumental followed by the lead single sound fantastic together.
All of these tracks are themselves from other playlists I’ve been playing in the hired cars we’ve been taking on our trips, although some have been played on these neat $10 portable speakers we bought in Wall-Mart that came with cool patterned jackets that allow them to stand. The majority of the tracks are taken from one specific playlist, “Great Party”, which was constructed for, fittingly, a party. Six hours long, it comprises mostly of tracks I was listening to last year. The party itself I have few good memories of as a visiting friend made me drink too much tequila.
Ah! Shady Lane! I love this song, and now it reminds me of Allegany State Park, where we sang it a cappella, while hiking. Later, Jens Lekman will play, which I strongly associate with seeing bears for the first time ever in the wild. I can’t believe this was the cheapest pen in the airport shop, $3.98! Should I be listening to “Music for Airports’, I wonder?

*******************

This plane is insane. There are T.V.s in the back of the seats with touch screens and a database full of popular (and recent) movies and T.V. shows. I’m easily impressed. I switch from “Dylan In the Movies” by Belle and Sebastian, to an episode of the Office. I wonder, is this free? It seems to be… this is ridiculous.
“He died, alone with not even his own head to comfort him” – fantastic line. I watch three episodes then the second half of the new Star Trek film, the first of which I had watched online. I get that this is certainly better than the other Star Trek films I’ve seen but haven’t we had enough of “origin” stories recently? Similarly, Leonard Nimoy and Simon Peg kind of push things into camp territory the film would be better keeping out of.
After the film, I fall asleep. It’s impossible to tell for how long but I reckon I manage a respectable five hours. I awaken to the sound of bird noises being played over the P.A. It makes me wonder which morning Emirates airlines is referring to, given that we’re traversing time zones. I put on “Mars Attacks”. There’s a camera at the front of the plane that can be accessed through the T.V. Soon I’ll be arriving in Dubai.
An advert welcoming passengers to Dubai interrupts the end of the film, accompanied by that song with the chorus, “it’s a wonderful, wonderful life”. Dubai is marketed as an exotic paradise, although unfortunately comes across as a tasteless moratorium of excess, at least via these images of creepily clean and empty hotels devoid of an distinct personality. For me it’s always been the place where friends parents go to work in the oil industry, and has never struck me as a place for a holiday. My housemate’s girlfriend told me at dinner two nights ago that bankruptcy is a crime here, literally; they’ll arrest you."

Musical Cooking

I just made a curry to "i" by The Magnetic Fields. I'll be honest, I don't really know how to cook curry. Here's what I did:

- I heated oil up in a pan, adding mustard seeds when the oil was hot.

- When the mustard seeds started to pop, I added cumin, turmeric, paprika, chopped garlic, a chopped green chilli, and chopped coriander (I judged this by eye).

- When the onions started to lose their colour, I added three chopped tomatoes, cinamon bark, cloves, cardamon pods, baby spinach leaves, diced tofu and some curry leaves.

- It's now covered and simmering.

There are some tracks I love on "i", like "I Don't Believe You" and "I Wish I Had An Evil Twin", but it doesn't keep my attention all the way through. Despite this, I still enjoy it a lot more than "Distortion", which I really can't get into. Nothing beats "Holiday" as far as I'm concerned, or "The Charm Of The Highway Strip". They're playing here on the 8th of February next year, I can't wait.

Mt. Eerie

"This is a photo of Mount Erie.

(Mt Eerie) is a reference to the place, but it's also 2 words that are meaningful to me. "Mount Eerie" to me means, poetically, this looming ominous presence, a dark watcher. This is a feeling I have always been trying to evoke in my "work", and it was much more appropriate a name than "the Microphones". The fact that it was also a reference to an important place for me (I grew up looking at the mountain) was just a bonus.

(On the best place to listen to music) Everything sounds better in headphones, and with the lights off. The less stimulation from the world around you, the more you can get immersed in the world I tried to make in the recordings. But it's a lot to ask, I know, to have people listen so attentively. I'm hoping the album works with more superficial listening as well

(On the trip to Norway) The changes in my personality and ways of thinking that happened in Norway have stayed with me and kept changing in mysterious ways since then. I came back thinking I was going to be this new way forever, but of course I've kept changing as a person. That period in Noway is still significant for me because it was a time of deep quiet and focussing on listening, rather than walking around in the world and blabbing my mouth (releasing albums). I still try to remind myself about the importance of stillness and listening frequently. All this is reflected in my "work".

I like playing in any big wooden room. Churches are often like this. They're nice because they make what's happening inside them feel significant and they're made to sound good. Also, I like the feeling of smuggling my non-religious, vaguely pagan young ceremonies into these buildings. Location affects everything ever. I have only tried recording music in someone else's space a couple of times and it's always felt awkward. For me, recording is a process that happens as part of daily life in my nest-like home place.

I don't know where my musical inspiration comes from. I drove past a construction site recently. They were tearing up a freeway with an enormous machine. It was the loudest sound I've ever heard, and mostly bass. That was inspiring."

Thanks to Phil for the interview.

Camping Mixtape

It's a grey day today. Funnily enough, it reminds me of Scotland, and so I kind of like it. In the burrito shop they were playing Great Lake Swimmers, perfect for this kind of slow day...

This summer I did a lot of camping. At some point, I compiled the tracks I listened to the most into a mixtape entitled "I <3 CAMPING". I listened to it a lot on a holiday in Kerala, India, in August, also. I'm hoping to upload some my diary entries from that trip at some point in the near future. In the meantime, I thought I'd share the track listing:

1. Okkervil River - Stand-Ins, One
2. Okkervil River - Lost Coastlines
3. Pavement - Shady Lane
4. Fleet Foxes - White Winter Hymnal
5. The Rural Alberta Advantage - Don't Haunt This Place
6. Cut Copy - Hearts On Fire
7. The Dirty Projectors - Stillness Is The Move
8. Bat For Lashes - Daniel
9. Desmond Dekker - Beautiful And Dangerous
10. Black Milk - Losing Out
11. Belle & Sebastian - Like Dylan In The Movies
12. Animal Collective - Fireworks
13. Boards Of Canada - Dayvan Cowboy
14. Jens Lekman - Postcard To Nina
15. Talking Heads - This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)

Tiny Vipers

"every show on tour is really different. i have learned that there is no way to predict how a show will go. sometimes i play in an ideal situation, like a nice quiet sit down place, but i leave the show feeling terrible. or i play in a loud and smokey bar but i walk away feeling good about the show. i think that the context is not always in the venue or city so much. the context of my mindset when i need to get up there and play really effects whether i believe a show is good or not. for example if i am tired from travel and i am not in the mood to be 'expressive' then while i am playing the show i feel like i am forcing an image that is not %100 accurate. when i am tired i am just trying to make it through the set so i can get off the stage. this leaves me feeling incensire after the show. if i am in good spirits then i go up there with a mind set that is more focused on the present, rather then just thinking about getting off the stage and hiding i am just happy with where i am and what i am doing. in this mental place i typically leave feeling fine.

i listen to music alot on the plane. i am trying so hard to block everyone and everything out that i really focus on each song.

(on the best place to record music) alot of recording has to do with the studio you choose and the engineer. i think using the studio/engineer that i choose had a big impact on my mental space when recording the record. i was more at ease because i knew the place and i trusted its equiptment. Andrew Hernandez, the engineer, is a good match for me. i feel like we comunicate on the same level. we can take abstract aproaches to making each song sound right. it is hard to record and not end up killing each song by overthinking each step. Andrew keeps an eye on the whole sound and doesnt get caught up in details. a rare quality with engineers i think.

[i write most of my music] at home usually. it is where all my stuff is and typically where i am most relaxed."

Thanks to Jesy for the interview.

The Dirty Projectors @ Opera House, Saturday 16th November

Last night I saw The Dirty Projectors at the Opera House on Queen Street East here in Toronto. First of all, I really like the Opera House as a venue, it has a good shape, a nice atmosphere, and, most importantly, the sound is usually decent. The band themselves were excellent, really tight, really together. They have this appealing geeky awkward streak to them, a nod to technical virtuosity not usually seen amongst indie bands (although, I have to add, common in metal), that last night manifested itself in a three or four song "acoustic" middle section, complete with double bass. There was no apparent reason for this but it made them all the more loveable. Most of the tracks were from "Bitte Orca", but quite a few were from the similarly excellent "Rise Above". The crowd were as hipsteriffic as one would except at a show like this but ultimately well behaved and appreciative. This is with the exclusion of the dudes who feel the need to yowl during quiet moments of songs - what's with this? Dudes, you almost ruined "Two Doves" for every one...

Memory Records - Kid A

I love Kid A. I think it's one of the best albums of the 2000s, and it's one of my favourite all time pieces of music. I didn't always feel that way about it, though. In fact, I was kind of disappointed when it came out. I wasn't outraged in the same way others were, I wasn't at all pissed off that there were hardly any guitars on it. If any thing, I was too ready for it, and it sounded too much like it did in my head. This is in part because I'd been following radiohead.com for the various years leading up to the album and I'd adjusted my music tastes in accordance with Thom Yorke's sporadic tastes. I knew about Warp Records, I'd checked out Can, Neu, and Miles Davis. I anticipated the change in direction.

It was also because of the clean, unforgiving production Radiohead records have. Short of Hail to the Thief, the production on which I still don't like, most Radiohead records are pristine to the point of being almost impenetrable. They practically glow when played. This makes them amazing to listen to on excellent speakers but tough if you want to get through to the heart. You have to put a lot of listening time in before you get any thing out. Or, at least, that's how I find them to be.

I don't want to get distracted getting geeky about production, as much fun as that would be. Instead, and in keeping with the theme of this blog, I want to present snap shots from times I've listened Kid A, because I really associate it with certain times and places.

- I'm walking in Aberdeen, Scotland with a friend, and I've just bought the record. I can see the corner of the road, where I'm standing with it. It's at this point whether I'm wondering if my faith in this band has been rewarded or not. Should I succumb to the overwhelming indifference of a collection of the reviews I've read? I know it's not a terrible record, but is it going to turn out to be really good? I can see where I'm standing, the grey bricks in the wall, the grey sky. It's the afternoon. I'm seventeen.

- The funny thing about memory is that we never know how much of it is invented by our minds. When I think about Kid A, I think about new year's eve, 1999, but I know that it wasn't released until April 2000. Still, images revolve around in my head. One is of a big house party in Cults, an upper middle-class area of Aberdeen. The party is being thrown by a girl called Helen I used to sit beside in English class. The sky in Aberdeen frequently has an orange glow about it due to the street lamps. I can see orange and black. I have really strong images of trees in my head. I think that I have this memory for two main reasons, it was round about this time I was getting into Warp Records – I bought Autechre's lp4 on December 31st 1999, and the colours used in the art of Kid A suits the memory I have.

- I can remember the night I realized how powerful this record was. I was in a kitchen, with some friends, and we're fucking around with a ouija board. I was super-intense teenager, and so the ouija board is freaking me out a little bit. There's a stereo on the counter, and we're soundtracking the whole event. “The Sophtware Slump” by Grandaddy goes on at one point, then Kid A. I start to realize how haunted the music sounds. It's cold but I get the impression that it's because the protagonist is trying to give the impression of disappearing, both involuntarily and as a way of escaping. The title track is the least Radiohead-like composition I've heard so far. The two most traditional sounding tracks paint a pretty bleak picture. And yet, even with all this, there's something incredibly moving about it, something that I can't pin down, something that makes me want to listen to it over, and over, and over...

The Clientele

"[This is an image of] Fleet in Hampshire, which is the commuter town I grew up in. It was taken on a winter night 2 years ago and I think it reflects the innate eeriness of the place; you have the isolated house and the sodium lamps in the foreground, and behind and all around is what seems like a huge, empty nothing. That suburban feeling of isolation but simultaneous magic is what a lot of my songs are all about.

[On releasing Bonfires on the Heath in the fall]. I think once you release a record it has to live inside other people's spaces, and it's theirs to make of it what they will. Having said that, it was cool that this record came out round about the time of year which a lot of the songs are lyrically referencing - I get a sense that everybody in the northern hemisphere is on the same page, and that really, genuinely delights me, it's like an experiment which worked, for once!


[On the “heath” in the title] There's a kind of desolate, blasted heath called Blackheath, in London, a few miles walk from the light and civilisation of Greenwich, which always seemed like the end of the world to me. And there's Hampstead Heath in London too, which I visited before writing the songs on this album, one very bright summer day, trying to shake off the effects of a very long-lasting acid trip. I guess all those places combined in my head. Really to me, it's just a haunted space, a waste ground, somewhere large and empty, a lonely place.


[On the inspiration for the songs on the album]. I vividly see the landscape of the countryside and the suburbs in Hampshire, where I grew up, in these songs. These strange in-between places where you can imagine uneasy sort-of faultlines running through the land, mysterious fractures in the continuum. There's a restlessness in that landscape, nothing is permanent, little patches of woods, little streets of new-build houses, and because you can't really seem to grasp anything or divine any real character in these kind of places, you have the perverse impression of them being hyperreal, more real than reality, they're bigger than you can get your head around. I've always said the suburbs were magical, and not in a patronising way, because that's where I'm from and I genuinely love them, but they have a type of weird environmental intensity that's often missing in the city itself.


[On the track, “Losing Haringey]. The events in Losing Haringey pretty much happened to me word for word as they appear in the story, except obviously I did not find myself trapped in a phantom photo - in reality the things around me just inexplicably reminded me of that photo (which does exist in a photograph album I once saw). The benches and the road in the story are just off Wood Green High Road in North East London - the last time I was in the area they were still there, although quite dilapidated now, and the bushes with the pale yellow flowers still grow all over the hill that leads West to Alexandra Palace.

I'm not sure how memory and place interact. Maybe that song was an attempt to explore it somehow, how perhaps memories and places are not stable, they can recur over the years, overlap, or lead back, like snakes and ladders.

[On the best places to listen to music]. I like listening to music on the train, watching drab South London scenery fly by. Especially at this time of the year when there's no light. The feeling of moving past and out of it all -of escape- is very comforting while it lasts.

[On favourite venues]. Floods of sunlight on an outdoor stage at Farnborough 6th Form College, summer 1992. We played to our schoolfriends, it was one of our first gigs and, astonishingly for that time, it sounded terrific. I'm sure we had a go at Graven Wood that afternoon. Over the years the memory of the space and the light has become so idealised in my mind that I doubt I'd recognise it now if I went back to look at it.

[On inspirational places]. One example is Dulwich Wood. This is the wood near my house, which I often run through in the mornings. It’s not that big, but it’s very old, the last remnant of the Great North Wood which once stretched all around South London. It has Victorian ruins, a hidden pond, and lots of criss-crossing trails. Oak and Hornbeam grow there, Byron and Samuel Palmer loved to walk there. I’ve seen it in all seasons and I think it has an objective spookiness. I wrote Harvest Time and Bonfires after walking in this wood. I’ve often had the irrational feeling of being watched there; I’m being melodramatic of course, but it’s a sinister place.

[On whether the recording environment effects the recording]. I tried an experiment with this album, which was to record at a very dead time of year, between Xmas and New Year, when there's no light and everything and everyone is exhausted. I wanted to capture some of that enervated, weightless, strung-out feeling in the music, but I don't think it made any difference. Once you're in the imaginative space you want to be, where you actually are doesn't matter so much.

[On the best environments for writing]. I can write anywhere; again I think once you've got to the mental place where you're inspired and having ideas, your surroundings aren't important. In a way that's the beauty of it, that you can escape from the world for a while, you can negate the world around you."

Thanks to Alasdair for the interview.