This fucker. I was a fan for the 12 years before his death and it hasn't even been 4 years since. Perhaps in 10 years I'll have made peace with it. Perhaps by then I'll have seen and heard everything there is to see and hear. Right now, though, I keep finding little gems like this.
15 years and a week prior to his death, this kid seems almost hopeful. Almost.
is there any room for death even to try the movement, were it granted, is only going to go you are not, as day follows day to be forgot you I have not, forgot at least, we are touched upon our last days at this place this time you will not talk of risk only of certain consequence oh, you and Napoleon all of that ambition you are not, as day follows day to be forgot you I have not, forgot
To continue staving off my impending existential crisis (I'm a vegetarian social justice-oriented academic in the Trump/Carl's Jr. white house cabinet era) I've been listening to stuff that brings out the 20 year old in me (ironically, a time when I would have eaten at Carl's Jr.)
Quite often, I allow Google's music app to pick my music for me, based around some song that fits my mood. More often than not, it picks the perfect songs. Throw on the Jets to Brazil station, get Jawbreaker, Knapsack, Samiam. Somehow, it knows just when I want to hear the punkier side of the band more than the folksy/classic rock side. I wonder how much info on me Google uses to put that together (...as I write on my Google-blog.)
Anyhow, this one came up yesterday and I remembered how much I loved it:
.
Yeah, it's completely ridiculous, but it's also a perfect song. You can sing to it, it has a great melody, great harmony among all its parts. It's catchy as fuck and it has guitars. It has keyboard bleep bloops and some echoey moments. It rocks hard when cranked up in the car. Perfect song.
I try not to divest too much of my time to the past, but like most people, I like the emotionality of nostalgia when it relates to music. Like a lot of music, this song isn't actually tied to some event or some emotional state, but more of a generic time in my life. I think about listening to this album in my little Nissan, driving home at night from school or some show or some thing, music blaring. Being 20, 22, 26, and having every song hit me in the guts, typically the impetus for dreaming about the future to escape the present. I wish I'd been able to spend more of my 20s being happy, so my nostalgia would be more joyous. If there's anything lost in getting older, it's that little seems "new" anymore, even the melancholy, so I'm happy to rediscover these songs now and again, to remind myself of bitter times.
I haven't posted since the election, because I keep waiting for some profound idea to come to my head, but I'm still just stumbling about and trying to evolve coherent thoughts. Clearly, I'm enraged and saddened. I'm confused and scared to a point that it has truly impacted my mental health. That's pretty incredible, right? From an election? I'm an anxious, avoidant guy, there's no doubt about that, but this has impacted my perception of reality. I'm terrified for all my friends and for billions I don't know. Are my friends going to find themselves un-married one day? Did Trump just reignite the ire of India about Pakistan? And China about Taiwan? Is my Taiwanese friend now stuck in a mess because Teflon Don can't help but middle finger China? Are we going to have a bathroom bill nationwide? Is California's smog coming back? Are we going to fuck public schools up forever because rich people like rich schools but don't want to pay for them?
I'm terrified for myself, too, since I'm some sort of scientist and I rely on federal research dollars to figure out ways to stop locking up minorities and poor children. Gee, I wonder how that'll work in a "law and order" society. Not well, I imagine.
I think the end result from all of this is that I am again reminded of why I'm in social work. Social work is about resistance. It's about ethical fortitude and social justice. Community-building and unification. It's a values-based discipline that represents and supports the underrepresented and the disenfranchised. And since that's going to be a solid 40% of the country in 6 weeks, it's important that social workers unite to start and lead movements and to prop up those who are most affected.
As a kid, I was rebellious and angry and I wanted to "fight the system," although, you know, I was 14 and couldn't clearly explicate what "the system" was or why it made me angry. But, I knew some people were not treated fairly. Some people had it harder than others, some were not treated as people at all, and that there were structural reasons for this was inherently wrong.. I had it ok in some ways, hard in others, but I knew I had to help people with whatever privilege I was given or earned. What good is being human if not to help other humans? To leave the world in a better place than it was provided? It's what brought me to social work, which I'm now convinced is the progenitor of punk rock. Exposing power structures, DIYing the hell out of everything, breaking down barriers and forming a community of inclusion. On top of it, we will kick in your door and save your children from whatever horrific shit you're doing to them. We will save you from yourself.
This new leadership feels like it's going to bleed into every aspect of life I've ever taken for granted as "normal." We became complacent, assuming the world was progressing slowly, but surely. That's now in jeopardy. We will see new barriers, new oppression, new dangers to people's lives, in addition to a resurgence of the old ones.
It's time that we Jane Addams the fuck out of this country. It's time we kick complacency in the shins, unite, and undo the wrongs we see around us.
We can laugh about 2016 being a dumpster fire or whatever, but I'm putting it out here now that 2017 is on notice. It's time we secure the good for all of us. And if 2017 pulls any of the bullshit we've seen this year, we're going to have to fuck it up.
Volcano, I'm Still Excited!! was a cutesy indie band for a minute, back in the early 00s. Maybe 2002-2004? Of immediate note, the band's lead singer was Mark Duplass, who went on to do quite a bit of television and film, most of which I haven't seen (I did see "The One I Love," which was a totally fucked up film.)
I saw them play at some point, with a crowd of, I don't know, twelve people. I think most of the people in the audience were just the members of the other bands who played, so I don't imagine the Volcano guys made their gas money back on that one. They played through the majority, if not entirety, of their sole album.
During one of their slower songs, one of the members took out a stack of posterboards, each of which containing a drawing. Cycling through the posterboards, what ultimately came out was a picture story about ninjas, unicorns, maybe a dragon? It was all very fairy-tale kitsch and cutesy.
It would have failed in front of a larger crowd, being as awkward as it was, but n front of a small crowd, you couldn't help but confront that awkwardness, rather than just laugh it off. This guy's showing a story about rainbows in front of 6 people he's never met. To music. Yeah, it was weird, but in sort of an intimate way. Like holding hands for the first time or fumbly sex.
And they killed it. The whole show. They performed their cute-ass songs with energy and love, not only aware of their small crowd, but in tribute to it.
The band itself always felt like the members' side job - something that they weren't completely sold on, themselves, which I'm guessing is why they didn't tour or record a follow-up. Their music was certainly cute and sappy. Brutally cute and sappy, even, which I'll admit is a niche market. I think it's part of why this band always stood out for me, but not the whole reason - it's not just brutally cute and sappy, it's unabashedly cute and sappy. They weren't putting on airs. They weren't playing to any particular crowd other than people who would like them.
Oh, I'm about 90% sure that the posterboard story came during this song (the other 10% goes to "Firebombing London," but I don't think that's right.)
And for good measure, one of their music videos below the jump:
So, in drastic departure (?) of the stuff I've posted, here's top 40 band Jimmy Eat World. What? That "The Middle" band?
Some time during my last year of high school - 1999, for those keeping record - I was heavy into punk bands. This was satisfying to my teenage rebelliousness, my anger, and my total lack of concern for high school and social norms, but it didn't really speak to my angst and burgeoning adulthood. Besides, I would never be one of the punk rock kids and I knew it - I was terrified of giving myself over to groupthink.
I started this new adulthood by exploring music that was more fitting to the jumble that was my sense of self. You know, like most kids. The punk rock was slowly giving way to punk bands with "feelings." Samiam, 88 Fingers Louie. All good. Music became less political and outward, more expressive and inward.
Since I was a lackadaisical do-nothing slacker in my high school classes, I spent much of one class looking for music on this new internet thing. By chance, I read a glowing review of Jimmy Eat World's "Clarity" on some random homespun website. I think I was intrigued by the name - this is clearly a band with no motivation for fame. I'm pretty sure they used the word "emo" in the review, which was probably my first time hearing the word that I disliked so much that I would spend dozens of hours of my life trying to define and defend it to others on the internet. I guess I can own up to that now.
Anyway, I went out and got the album later that week. For a kid who grew up on punk albums and was trying hard to grow up, 'Clarity' was like a punch in the gut. It ran the gamut between soft and hard. It was delicate - on purpose - and expressive. It complained about the radio. It's lyrics were damn near nonsense, but they had heart. Songs would run 6... 7... 16 minutes. Crazy stuff. What are those, violins? Timpani? Bells? The album had an incredible focus.*
I'm not sure why this album spoke to me the way it did. Was it because I was 18? Was there something special about the album? Would any non-punk rock album have had the same effect? Was it validating merely because it was an underground band and I knew so few at the time that weren't on Epitaph or Fat Wreck or SST?
I don't have an answer. I think those of us who spend a lot of time and effort exploring music have albums like these - albums that maybe don't initiate a turning point as much as they are representative of one. In 1999, I moved out, went to college, was lovelorn, poor, and new to the world. This was the right album for that year.
In 1999, the band fit in with the other indie bands of the era that I would soon explore. You'd hear their name in conversations about Braid, At the Drive-In, the Promise Ring, Texas is the Reason. A couple years later, they were all over the radio, which was both fulfilling and weird - what they became popular for was a different sound than what I'd hoped for their next albums. I don't hold a grudge or anything, it's just a thing that happened. They put out an album that was meaningful for me at an important time in my life. That's no small thing.
Many albums later and the band sounds very little like they used to. Some sounds reflect elements of their early works, but only rarely, and the band is not often mentioned in the context of 90s indie bands so much as early 2000s pop-punk. In 1999, they toured with a relatively unknown At The Drive-In, in 2000 with Jebediah, in 2001 on the Warped Tour and in 2002 or 2003, with Green Day and Blink 182.
The biggest challenge of being a fan of anything is when what you like about something, and what they're known for, are two different things. It becomes a question of accuracy - were they ever that good? Was that just how I perceived them at the time and now I can't consider them objectively? Were the early works flukes? Isn't 'The Middle' stupid? Can I like anything they do now?
I don't have answers, but I stopped caring much about this. Jimmy Eat World's new album came out earlier this week; and while, no, it doesn't sound like Clarity-era Jimmy Eat World, there are some good songs here. I don't know what it means, and I don't care. I'm 35 goddamn years old - if I can't like something, unfettered, what's the point of liking anything? In conversation, I might still qualify any discussion of them, "I liked Jimmy Eat World back in the day, but not their new stuff." That's such a shitty way to have to talk about things, let alone think about them.
*[This is the sort of overview that wouldn't have gotten me to get the album in 1999.]
While he was in The Weakerthans, John K. Samson initiated a series of songs, loosely organized around a cat named "Virtute" (that's pronounced "wihr-Too-tay" for you non-Latin-philes.) Framed around Virtute's relationship with her owner, Virtute became a symbolic foil for adulthood, for struggle and motivation, and ultimately, for depression and alcoholism.
The first song song finds Virtute encouraging her owner to get up and out, to have a party and small talk with neighbors, rather than just sit around, watching TV and drinking like he typically does. She'll "cater with all the birds that I can kill." The owner will start to believe he's strong ("lick the sorrow from your skin"), in this imaginary party world, if only he can get up and do it. Virtute is this sad man's champion. I know you can do it, bud, "I know you're strong." It's just deep down in there. C'mon bud, you're great.
In the second song, we get a tone change. Virtute gets lost, she and her owner are unable to find one another, and she ends up living on the street, left remembering her time with her owner. Virtute adores her owner, but can only do this from afar now. John writes his most heartbreaking phrase, where Virtute misses her owner, but "can't remember the sound that you found for me." She forgot her own name! This song brings me to tears every time.
Of course, there's more to it than that--Samson doesn't write songs at a surface level only. Virtute comes to represent the will and the motivation of a person in the midst of struggle - that internal, reassuring voice - but has become so far removed that she can only reflect detached and longingly. The motivation and goodness of life itself has become so far removed from this person that it has become achingly unfamiliar.
This brings us to song number 3, just released last week on Sampson's excellent new "solo" album.
Virtute, now but a loving, supportive memory of this person who has struggled, but ultimately pulled it together. Ever the friend, ever the champion, Virtute offers one last nod of support. You did it, friend; now you can relax and enjoy yourself, because we will always support each other, together or not. We should all be so lucky.
Now that the treatment and antidepressants and seven months sober have built me a bed in the back of your brain Where the memories flicker and i paw at the synapses bright bits of string You should know i am with you Know i forgive you Know i am proud of the steps you have made Know it will never be easy or simple Know i will dig in my claws when you stray So let us rest here like we used to in a line of late afternoon sun Let it rest All you can't change Let it rest and be done
Leatherface did themselves a disservice by naming their band "Leatherface." You hear "Leatherface" and just assume they'll be some sort of Misfits band, instead of this hard post-punk pop shoegazing something or other that they actually are. One of their members died recently and I believe they're officially over now. They had a pretty solid catalogue overall, but there are some particular winners that stand out.
When I need to rock out - like, really need it - I sit in the car, crank up the volume, and put this one on. That first note hits you right in the ear holes.
