damn. i miss doing the pod­cast. i also miss writ­ing here reg­u­larly. that hasn’t really hap­pened since i left NYC. i don’t doubt for one minute that the energy of the city made me more alive and more ener­getic. go ahead, go back to 2004, 2005 entries. the qual­ity and quan­tity of emblo­gena­tion there is far greater than this (though i won’t lis­ten to any bitch­ing or dis­gust or mock­ery as to the what i wrote about back then). have i achieved min­i­mal­ism? doubt­ful: realised last night that while i love min­i­mal­ism and con­sider myself a min­i­mal­ist, at this point, it’s just a goal.

damn. here’s a great chameleons song, with some great lines and ideas, in a sorta-​​endearingly low-​​budget video and mimed performance.

the chameleons “monkeyland”

more fol­lows »

maybe this is how i am unde­ni­ably american.

i see the sub­urbs as a very evoca­tive place. maybe it’s because i grew up there, and had all my most influ­enc­ing (?) expe­ri­ences in sub­ur­ban icons, but they’re really quite mys­te­ri­ous. david lynch would agree, no doubt. brian eno, too, probably.

the sub­urbs at night are amaz­ing. after mid­night, on a week­night? they’re so dark and lonely. there are these lit­tle pock­ets of light and warmth — a street­light here, a porch light there. houses sit, full of rest­ful peo­ple, shar­ing a lit­tle cozi­ness from the dark and cool night.

the real beau­ti­ful areas are the edges of the sub­urbs, where they start to go rural. there you have fewer street­lights and homes, and more open space. those open spaces often fill with a lit­tle mist at night. at night, the land gets to be what it misses being. deer, owls, and other crea­tures of the night move around. this also includes the lone police­man, sit­ting in his car at a stop­light, guard­ing against the scourge of the sub­ur­ban night, teenagers.

the shop­ping plazas are quiet and bathed in the glow of their mer­cury bulbs. all that they can do is wait peace­fully. they get to sleep, too. the empty park­ing lots radi­ate warmth left over from day, like giant sleep­ing beasts.

of course there are sub­ur­ban hells: light pol­lu­tion has ruined the night skies for four gen­er­a­tions of amer­i­cans and count­ing, the days are full of mis­er­able traf­fic and wastes of water, and they are far too insu­lar & self-​​absorbed. at night, though, the sub­urbs are a sur­real else­where, where mys­tery is height­ened and things seem just askance of reality.

sur­pris­ing local con­cert action tonight: gang gang dance played at the bug jar (aka the hip­ster bar). $10, hel­lza yes, i’m there. shout-​​out to the prof who said “hey, you’ll never guess who’s com­ing to the bug jar?”

so, crap, what a good show. i haven’t seen a band with such good sense of rhyth­mic inter­play since TNT–era tor­toise. of course you had to dance. you had to. unless your hip felt weird from falling asleep on the couch (speak­ing from expe­ri­ence), in which case you stood there and tried to do a one-​​legged sway­ing gyra­tion. you could tell this was a band from the same scene as !!! — both are the same kind of chaotic-​​mishmash-​​party.

i think they played for about 90 min­utes, but there were only about 7 or 8 “songs”. there were only about four breaks in music, includ­ing the encore. (also won­der­ful to see a band come out and do an encore because the crowd wanted them to, not as a fore­gone con­clu­sion.) i recog­nised about 5 or 6 tracks, but they expand and alter them so much live. much more chaotic and glo­ri­ous. almost seems like get­ting into them via the live set would be a let­down. the albums are just more restrained and com­posed, i suppose.

as i write this, i’m won­der­ing why i don’t love this band more. the music is per­fectly geared towards me:

• 20% peter gabriel’s birdy soundtrack
• 20% my bloody valentine
• 15% afropop
• 10% cocteau twins
• 10% can
• 10% dub
• 5% tan­ger­ine dream
• 5% ninety–era 808 state
• 5% bailé funk

i’ll have to make it up to myself.