Ween - The Mollusk

Hot was the summer of '02. Especially the end of June, leading to the 4th of July weekend. A party hadn't been planned, they never really were. Chad and I had bought some meat at Meijer and some beer at the International Beer Store (or IBS, the same acronym as Irritable Bowel Syndrome... no coincidence). We had a geek-gathering planned for the next day. People would show up, hook their computers together, and stink. Beer would be drunk, music would be played, and Kleiner-1-Niner would kill us over and over. The night before, we thought, let's get set up for the party. Invite some people over, grill, and drink some beer.

Mandy showed up sometime late-afternoon. We had vacuumed and cleaned the empty pizza-boxes off the floor. This equates to the closest thing to cleaning we did, and we were damn proud of ourselves. So proud, in fact, we felt we deserved a beer. Sitting on the back porch, Djarum in one hand, a beer in the other, we looked out over Scum Lake and pondered the meaning of it all.

The 4th of July is the central point of the summer, the great climax and the greatest expression of pure summer-abandon. College was in full-swing. I was living with three other guys in a run-down house, working full time at a well paying job, and dating my future wife. Our pet cat Jabba hadn't grow sour on our collective insanity, and would still occasionally pop in and nibble on our scraps. These were the glory days. A time that seemed to last forever, yet, in retrospect, was only a period of about eighteen months. Life's possibilities rolled out before all of us, and we knew, simply knew, that we had to reach out an grab them. The first year anniversary of 9/11 still hadn't happened, and we were all reeling in the changes wracking the world around us. It was a time of change on every level, and in the center of that maelstrom of chaos, insanity, and fun sat a simple, unassuming house.

Camelot.

Say the name to anyone who lived through that period, and they will inevitably do two things: Smile and shake their heads. Next, they will say, "Remember when...?" And will tell the story of Tyler almost blew himself up with a roman candle, or the time we had 20+ people on the phenomenally dangerous deck rocking it back forth to see if they could get it collapse, or the time two here-unnamed people went across Scum Lake with arm-fulls of Class B fireworks, lightening them off in a mall parking lot until the entire neighborhood was crawling with cops.

So, in many ways, that weekend was much like any other. People, both invited and not, began to arrive as the air cooled slightly. Somehow the grill was lit, a half keg appeared at one point, and music began to play through any number of the sound systems that filled every corner of the house. I would be playing groove salad in my room, where the pot-heads would inevitably crash on the king-sized water bed. Dan would play a scratchy vinyl record he found at a flee market called "28 Truckin' Classics". Chad would burn crazy mix CDs and put them in the various boombox-style CD players throughout the house. All of this would blend with the various conversations, laughter, and occasional breaking of something expensive-sounding.

That night, through cacophony of noise, I heard a few small bits of music that caught my ear. Somehow I associated the music with this skinny dude wandering around talking to Chad and friends. I said hi and he eagerly responded, "Hey! How're you?" I think I wondered off. This happens often at parties. You meet people you're supposed to know, but due to the excitement or drinking or something, you can't place them.

Mandy and I woke the next morning on the downstairs couch. Dan, even taller than me, was crumpled up on love-seat completely covered by a blanket. The sliding door was wide open, and outside I could see Scum Lake sparkling. Today was the LAN party. All of our careful preparation from the day before had been laid to waste by the party held to celebrate the preparation.

Mandy and I went upstairs. Chad was making eggs and toast. He made us some and we sat on the deck discussing the night before.

"Who was that skinny guy last night? He looked really familiar." I asked.

Mandy said, "That was Andy. You've met him, like, ten times."

Chad, "Yeah. Andy. I've known him for years."

Me, "Andy?"

Chad/Mandy, "Sigh..."

"Ah, right. Andy."

Chad, "Did you hear the CD he brought? It's really good."

"I think so. I caught a little of it."

Chad, "There's this one song, it's an instrumental. Mid-way through, it sounds like you."

"Sounds like me?"

"Yeah. It sounds like you, groaning."

"Ahhh... what?"

"Here. Listen to the album."

I couldn't immediatly tell whether the band was suppossed to be humorous, dark, rock, or folk. I found myself laughing, kind of, and looking around to see if anyone was seeing me enjoy it. The experience was akin to listening to Zappa for the first time. You keep asking yourself, "Am I suppossed to be laughing at this?"

The key to Ween lies with the understanding that there isn't anything to get. The confusion, the humor, and strangeness is the point. Once I stopped trying to disect it and just listen and enjoy, I fell in love. A deep, musical love I've only felt with three or four bands. Experiencing Ween, obviously, is difficult to sum up in words. It's very challenging music, but the reward more than compensates for the effort.

If you haven't listened to Ween, or you've only heard the one or two singles that used to be played endlessly on MTV ('Push the Lil Dasies" or "Voodoo Lady") go out and buy / download The Mullusk and listen to it. Try not to figure it out. Turn off your brain and let them take you down the brown road, where mutilated lips, whales with pokadot tails, drunken Irishmen scream about cracking in your head. It's worth it.

2008 - Top Ten

I finally finished my collection of the top ten songs created in 2008. It is almost the 4th quarter of 2009, I know, but I enjoy making finishing these collection for the same reason I occasionally update this blog: To act as a kind of diary. Placeholders are important when looking back on events passed. Without these bookmarks, the years (music, stories, events) blur and become something difficult to parse, and since there is no working form of grep for the mind, I'll have to use these blogging and audio mastering tools to help collect and organize my history.

I'm not going to distribute this collection, except to people who ask for it. The year is long over and everyone (myself included) has moved on to new music. I'm definitely going to try to get the 2009 collection done by the December holiday season, so I can I can send it out and help spread my own personal form of holiday cheer to friends and enemies alike.

For those are interested (but not interested enough to ask for a mix), here are the songs in no particular order.

(Artist | Album | Track)

TV on the Radio | Dear Science | Crying

Flight of the Conchords |[self-titled] | Think About It

Vampire Weekend |[self-titled] |M79

Beck | Modern Guilt | Walls

David Bryne & Brian Eno | Everything That Happens, Will Happen Today | Strange Overtones

Kanye West | 808s and Heartbreaks | Welcome to Heartbreak

The Black Keys | Attack & Release | Psychotic Girl

Gnarls Barkley | The Odd Couple | Who's Gonna Save My Soul?

Dodos | The Visiter | Red and Purple

Sigur Ros | Med Sud I... | Gobbledigook

Hot Chip | Made in the Dark | Ready for the Floor

(Ok... so there are 11 songs... it was a good year!)

Here's the introduction to the mix for your listening pleasure (no video).

The Beatles Music in FIlm

Mandy and I watched "Across The Universe" last weekend. If you are a Beatles fan I would recommend seeing it once, just for the music. If not, you could as easily skip it and not miss very much. The most striking thing about the music of The Beatles, is how transcendent it is. The simple melodies and 4/4 rock timing of the majority of their songs is simple, bordering on formulaic, but it's still so good. As an example of how Beatles music can carry even the simplest imagery, here is one of the most toe-curling cute videos I've ever seen, and it's topical.

Enjoy!

Paul Simon and Allen Ginsberg

I love Paul Simon's writing. While a unquestionably talented guitar player, his true strength as a songsmith lies in his writing. He's still cranking out the tunes, and melding his folky, contemplative writing and playing with contemporary luminaries such as Brian Eno. I recently started listening to "The Rhythm of the Saints" the sequel to his every-possible-away-winning album "Graceland." While not as much a critical darling as Graceland, Rhythm showcases some of the most profound lyrics Simon has written.

For your consideration, the lyrics to the climatic song "Cool, Cool River." The song always reminds me of Ginsberg's epic beat poem "Howl."

"Cool, Cool River" by Paul Simon
"Moves like a fist through the traffic
Anger and no one can heal it
Shoves a little bump into the momentum
Its just a little lump
But you feel it
In the creases and the shadows
With a rattling deep emotion
The cool, cool river
Sweeps the wild, white ocean

Yes boss. the government handshake
Yes boss. the crusher of language
Yes boss. mr. stillwater,
The face at the edge of the banquet
The cool, the cool river
The cool, the cool river

I believe in the future
I may live in my car
My radio tuned to
The voice of a star
Song dogs barking at the break of dawn
Lightning pushes the edge of a thunderstorm
And these old hopes and fears
Still at my side

Anger and no one can heal it
Slides through the metal detector
Lives like a mole in a motel
A slide in a slide projector
The cool, cool river
Sweeps the wild, white ocean
The rage of love turns inward
To prayers of devotion
And these prayers are
The constant road across the wilderness
These prayers are
These prayers are the memory of god
The memory of god

And I believe in the future
We shall suffer no more
Maybe not in my lifetime
But in yours I feel sure
Song dogs barking at the break of dawn
Lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm
And these streets
Quiet as a sleeping army
Send their battered dreams to heaven, to heaven
For the mothers restless son
Who is a witness to, who is a warrior
Who denies his urge to break and run

Who says: hard times?
Im used to them
The speeding planet burns
Im used to that
My lifes so common it disappears
And sometimes even music
Cannot substitute for tears"

Sample of "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix;Angel-headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection
to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night."

Yeah Marvin, what is really going on?

I was sitting at work, watching my scripts crawl like digital cats across the application, seeking out bugs to snack on, when I heard something amusing on my iPod.

I had been listening to a collection of Marvin Gaye tunes (I’ve been on a Motown kick for some reason) when the golden standard, “What’s Going On?” came on. The song begins with ambient sounds of the beginnings of a party which ends up being the foundation for the song. For about 15 seconds, the listener can only hear a clamoring of saying things like, “This is a groovy party, man.”, “Everything is everything.”, and, “I dig it.” Alone, this is worth a grin because of how dated the phrases are, but something oddly coincidental is said just as the music kicks in.

Once the beat starts, and mid-way through the first Saxophone note, you can distinctly hear my friend Esquire in the background answering the question, “Hey man, what’s your name?” with “It’s Dennis.” The voice sounds just like Esquire and the fact that it’s saying its name is ‘Dennis’ at a party at Marvin Gaye’s crib c. 1972 is the coolest thing I’ve ever heard. If Dennis existed in some alternate dimension, this is where he’d hang out. If you know, or are, Esquire, you’ll understand and smile knowingly.

It's hard to hear, but if you turn it up and listen to the right speaker, you can make it out.

(Click on Marvin to listen to / download the clip)