Love This Giant (St.Vincent & David Byrne)

I imagine when ‘Talking Heads’ David Byrne and St. Vincent decided to make a collaborative album their conversation was not far off from this:

“So. Annie…”
“Yes David”
” Annie, I’m turning 60 soon and I’m searching for something, something more. Musically.”
“huh. Ok.”
“Annie. Let me lay it out for you. I’m awesome. And, you my dear, are the quirkiest firecracker. Shall we…”
“Oh, David. I know where you are going with this. I think we shall.”

—

St. Vincent and David Byrne have joined forces to craft the most effervescent album this year may see; Love This Giant.

St. Vincent has an intoxicationg voice. Her versatile and effortless demure musical abilities transfer to a myriad of music so purely. David Byrne, having been around the block, offers up a refined knowledge of eccentric pop rhythms. Together they produce a balance of perplexing eccentricity. Which seems to work. From the first listen it is apparent that the album is not an ordinary piece of work.

In an off-kilter kind of way David Byrne and St. Vincent compliment each other. Byrne is brought to the foreground by St. Vincent’s toned down performance. It is a strange fit where the vocals do not only cease to coincide expectedly, but play as if two separate tracks were pieced together. It’s a flirtatious jaunt.

The obvious choice for the duo’s first single “Who” is full of vigor. The song begins with a tricksy horn combo to lead into Byrne quivering vocals “who will be my valentine?” , comparable to that of a pop infused Tom Waits. When St. Vincent chimes in with beautiful, smooth vocals (resembling a soulful Dirty Projectors impostor), the mood changes.

The heavy bass presence in the album lends itself to an array of styles. It plays funky, sombre, even in a seemingly New Orleans inspired fashion. If modern pop and modern jazz are not your cup of tea then the cavorting trombones and the air of whimsy Love This Giant offers will likely not be suited for you.  Love This Giant is giddy, outlandish, and above all well thought out, and well executed.

Welcome to your mid-twenties

I dug a hole to China and I went back in time. Being a foreigner on this planet helped to fuel my carefree lifestyle. I had so little worries. I became a man-child. Or, I guess in this case, a woman-child.

I had always (pretty much) played by the rules. Not on purpose, it just happened this way. But then I went away. While I would hear about people moving on, succeeding and becoming adults back in home country I danced around like a little party elf. This was the life that I wanted. I liked that I could stay out until the sun came up, go teach a class of thirty five first graders, and do it all again the next night. To me, that was progress. Life progress. I no longer felt a hangover, win.

But then I noticed that the conversations I was having were lacking in context. There was no intelligent banter, or witty repertoire. My day to day chatter was filled with “oh my god, last night was soooo fun”, and “do you know what you’re wearing tonight? you should totally wear… it would be sooooo cute!” And, while sounding like a valley girl seems comical now, I should have noticed at the time that I was beginning a downward spiral into woman-childhood.

I should have picked up on the clues. But, I didn’t. And, I hadn’t realized my descent until recently. I am in my mid-twenties. A stage in life that puts you on the cusp of adulthood. There are certain unwritten rules for people in their mid-twenties. You should either be in the process of accomplishing your dreams, or you have already accomplished them. To some extent. If you fall in neither category, what the hell are you doing? Your mid-twenties bring panic and the daily question “what the fuck am I doing?” That is, if you’re in any position like mine. You are ultimately in limbo.

The other night when I was walking home from the bus stop meandering my way through throngs of drunk “just legals”, all that kept going through my head was “damn kids”. I wanted to get home to a cup of tea and book. What?! So I realized, on the one hand, yes I do love to dance my face off, I do happen to get stuck in big crowds and occasionally get punched in the face and peed on at shows, and I do enjoy drinking games that involve Mario Kart… I enjoy drinking games, period. But, I am also ready for an adult life. I’m ready for the all fulfilling career that makes me giddy, for the property investment, for a full bank account and time off to travel.

While living in China had changed me into the ultimate woman-child. Moving back has turned me into a confused kind of woman-child. It is difficult to find a medium. My guess is that this is what the rest of my twenties will likely be. A strange dance between the young me, and the old. Entering into mid-twentydom is the entrance way to embarking on this whole other part of life. Probably no more school. You probably have a good sense of who you are at this point. And all that you have are your natural tools and the ones that you’ve earned. Now, how to put them to use.

Welcome to your mid-twenties, sucka.

The after life albums

One of my favorite movies is ‘High Fidelity’. My adolescent dream of working in a record store semi stemmed from this book turned movie. I am obsessed with the idea of being surrounded by the brilliant works of writers, composers and artists who I not only admire but most of whom who I have yet to even experience.

I can relate to the overly neurotic protagonist, Rob. His self appointed music geekdom helps him to assess his past relationships while comparing and contrasting them to various music. He makes lists. I would be lying if I said that I do not partake in the same obsessive activity. Music lists help to lay it all out, they seem to make life more understandable. I guess.

I think it was accurately described by Courtney E. Smith in the first chapter of her book Record Collecting for Girls titled ‘Top Five Lists’ when she says:

“Music nerds everywhere delight in making Top Five Lists of obvious, obtuse, and obscure records tailored to every categorization of music you could possibly imagine. I am one of those nerds.”

When I say “obsessive activity”, I really do mean obsessive. Obsessive to the extent that once one begins crafting the aforementioned lists it seems nearly impossible to stop; top 5 songs for driving, top 5 albums that remind me of my high school experience, top 5 albums for the fall… obsessive.

True to Rob form, I have compiled many Top 5 lists. Here is my Top 5 Albums list. It has taken me many hours to create and has been revised many a time, and will be revised many more I’m sure. But for now, I think I have settled on the Top 5 best, most significant albums… to me at least. This week.

5. The Beatles, Abbey Road (1969)
Despite the tension within the band, the Beatles were able to create an important album that the world needed to hear. Although they were having different ideals of where they thought the music should go, a real message was still able to prevail from their slow demise. The A side and B side are two completely different feels. Where side A was a raw and unabashedly honest ebb and flow including a look into where the Beatles stood both politically and as a band, Side B offers the best post exasperated sigh. Side B starts off with the light ‘Here Comes to the Sun’, and moves into the perfection of ‘Because’. It is an excellent explanation to an almost confusing side A. This album, in my opinion displays the Beatles at their best. Plus, Ringo had his time to shine with ‘Octopus’s Garden’. Which to this day is probably still his greatest success.

4. The Black Keys, Rubber Factory (2004)
Chosing a favorite Black Keys album is like picking a favorite child. Not an easy task. At the time that this album was released I was not yet a Black Keys fan. My musical tastes had not yet matured. And, I am thankful that I did not know who they were just yet. Discovering the Black Keys was during an important time in my life. It was a time where I was learning about myself and entering into adulthood. At this time I could really understand this band, where they were coming from, and what their music was about. The first song that really resonated with me was ‘Act Nice & Gentle’. Though originally by the Kinks, performed by the Black Keys it carried so much more weight. Rubber Factory is so dirty, so raw. It’s the type of album that consumes you whole with the power to take you higher or spit you out.

3. Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin IV (1971)
Though worshiping Robert Plant for years, and succumbing to the obvious perfection of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ I had actually never sat and listened to Led Zeppelin IV from start to finish. I luckily found a rare copy in one of my towns oldest record stores a few years ago. The owner expressed to me how fortunate I was and I couldn’t wait to get home to indulge. Right from the first chords of ‘Black Dog’ I was taken to another planet where rock n’ roll ran free. I was so easily scooped into the arms of Zeppelin’s mystical prose. A place I would never leave. Around this time is also where I began to fantasize about going back in time just so I could experience this glory first hand. I still cannot pin point what it is exactly about this particular Led Zeppelin album that will forever have me squirming.

2. Red Hot Chili Peppers, Californication (1999)
I was only eleven years old when this album was released. It spoke to me at eleven. It spoke to me at sixteen. And it still speaks to me now at twenty-four. This album is timeless. In my opinion, it is undeniably the best work by RHCP. Here is where the band balances an excellent alternative rock sound while maintaining their original funkability. The reason this album has the ability to affect me at so many different stages in my life is because there is a steadiness to Californication that is so special. While the album plays mostly as an epiphany, it is still so infused with energy.

1. Wolfmother, Wolfmother (2005)
You just know when an album will be a perfect fit. It’s like going on a first date. Most times, you know immediately. I knew immediately that Wolfmother and I were in it for the long haul. I can’t remember when I first heard Wolfmother but I would guess that it was ‘Joker and the Thief’ that caught my attention. I could not get enough. To me this self titled album is the reincarnation of the works of a rock n roll, flower child, super god sent out to woo me. This album makes me nostalgic for a heavy psychedelic rock sound that I never even knew.  The lyrics are transcendent, employing a meaning that many bands of the like had never done before. In a word, it’s awesome.

I have woken up to this for the last time.

Dear Green Day,

There is nothing hardcore and/or punk rock about you.

You are a mascara swipe away from being Avril Lavigne.

Yes, you once had street cred. But, the day you decided to continue making music post Warning will now be known as the day you made the worst career choice of your life.

A freak out doesn’t constitute the fact that you need rehab. It means you are crazy, and past your due date.

Sincerly,

Anyone with eyes and ears

P.S: Yes, Bieber IS bigger than you. Get over it.

Yoga conundrum

I enjoy doing yoga. I enjoy it a lot. Over the past year especially I have started doing yoga more.

I do not enjoy yoga class. I do not enjoy it very much at all. Though, I’ve only been to a couple classes, I can say I don’t enjoy it. Chances are, the classes that I went to were taught by sub par yogi’s. I’m sure good yoga classes exist.

My issues with yoga probably derives of a childhood participating in competitive sports. Leading me to an unknowingness of how to act. Yoga is a different kind of intensity, one that I have grown to be quite fond of, but still am not used to.

When I go to Yoga class I am not in the meditative state that is expected. I am my most neurotic self. I am thinking non-stop.

In class, I am a broken human.

—

“How does everyone know ALL of these positions?”

“I wonder if everyone is sweating as much as I am right now..”

“Why does no one else fall out of position?”

“Oh my god, my body does NOT look like hers in my yoga clothes. Jealous.”

“Is grunting allowed in here?”

“Everyone can hear me breathing loudly…. I need to stop breathing loudly… oh god, how do I stop breathing so damn loudly?!”

“Namaste? Doesn’t that mean…”

“Eff this.”

—

I love yoga. I love how it makes me feel. I love that I am using every part of my body. I love that I am suddenly aware of my entire body. I love that it gives me an excuse to buy stupid expensive clothes from lululemon.

My issue with yoga class stemmed from the first time I heard “namaste” uttered from the yogi’s mouth.

That word is thrown around these days. And, most people don’t even know what it means.

Namaste, from what I have studied, literally means “bow to you”. It is traditionally used when to say “I salute the God within you”. It is a lovely sentiment.

But, given my mostly agnostic outlook on life, I don’t think it appropriate, neither do I welcome someone saluting “the god within me”. No thank you. I also don’t feel it appropriate to “bow to” me. What have I done worth bowing to?

It’s not that I don’t like the word. It’s a great word. And, if used properly, a really great word. I don’t like that the majority of the time, though, it is not used properly.

I think it’s important to respect yoga’s history and tradition. To embrace the art. For the most part.

My biggest issue with yoga class, beyond my own neurosis, is that it is considered “cool”. Using “namaste” in a sentence doesn’t make you cool. Unless you are using it in the right context. Then, maybe, you can be cool.

I’m sure as time goes on I will learn to enjoy yoga class more. And who knows, maybe I will feel so comfortable to go out saluting the gods in everyone. Maybe.

Story of my life.