tankt

A mere five months after my unofficial retirement from my beloved tankt and I’m already back for more. Is this the start of something new? Only time will tell…

I can think of about a fifty new songs worth playing for you all, and maybe ten or so in need of a deeper discussion, but none is more worthy than this unconventional beauty from John Callaghan. I have followed John since his debut on Warp in 1998, and that incredible little 7" entitled I’m Not Comfortable In My Mind remains one of my most cherished possessions, not only for it’s rarity, but for it’s intensity and ingenuity and individuality. Truly, no one else in the world can make music quite like John.

For as much as I love and still relentlessly collect Warp’s releases, there are few songs on the new Recreated double CD that rise above the novelty of it all. Certainly the Born Ruffians’ cover of Aphex Twin’s “Milkman / To Cure a Weakling Child” ranks near the top, but after that I find the rest to be wholly disappointing. Fortunately, John takes on my least favorite song off of Autechre’s flawless Cichli Suite EP and turns it into one for the ages. Here’s the original for reference:

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“Tilapia” pales in comparison only because the other four songs define the pinnacle of Autechre’s classic 90s sound. Yes, it’s a fine song, but it feels a bit out of place in the context of the others. Quibbles aside, John’s remix is more of an homage, finding inspiration in the click track, square-wave baseline, and that same sense of the song withdrawing into itself. It’s masterful:

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The instrumental track alone shines brightly enough, but it’s even better with the vocals, which in turn are made even more meaningful by that strange and unfamiliar word in the title. If I understand it correctly, a phylactery is an object used to contain a soul. What else is music if not the same?

So I’ll keep on talking
for as long as I can
warm you with my embers
hoping you’ll remember
as I leave my debris
like temporal graffiti
audition for your memory
oh please don’t forget me

And these souvenirs
are fragile and small
so mark where they fall
I need them to prove that I was here at all

Like a stone makes ripples
like a stone I’m sinking
create a puppet of me
to occupy your thinking
I leave a thousand footprints
and a million echoes
a million flawed impressions
in the people I know

And these souvenirs
reflections of John
I will be gone
I need you to carry them so I live on

And these souvenirs
momentos I make
forming my wake
you were my phylactery so keep me safe

As I continue to uncover what it means to be me, and unravel what it is I am put here on earth to do, I find comfort and encouragement in those who also hunger for meaning and a deeper connection to all that is. There’s a certain futility in living to be remembered, but as best I can tell there’s nothing wrong with creating something of lasting value. I should be so fortunate that my work touches another soul, that someone else chooses to carry it forward, that what I have accomplished with my life lives on in some small way.

I was one of the lucky few to see Animal Collective play before 300 people at the Henry Miller Library in Big Sur two nights ago. I’ll have much more to say about the show in the days to come, and a ton of pictures and video to share too, but I can’t get the memory tied to “Lay Low” out of my mind.

Words fail to express the love I have for this stretch of the California coast. So many of my happiest moments have their roots here, and I know of no other place that so thoroughly calms my restless soul.

I proposed to Abby in China Cove, a secluded beach in the Point Lobos State Reserve made just for us, but totally unknown to me before we arrived:

And shared the first of many Carmel sunsets that night:

And celebrated her birthday the next day at Nepenthe, perched high above the Pacific Ocean in Big Sur:

And were married in the Carmel Highlands, with our families in attendance, on a day when the fog to burned off just in time to give us our moment in the sun:

And I love the drive from Carmel to Big Sur. If I stopped every time I saw an astonishingly beautiful scene like the one below, the 35 mile drive would take a lifetime:

So you can imagine my delight to find out about the show in Big Sur, and my sheer joy at getting four of the most precious tickets on earth, in my humble opinion of course. Abby, Sawyer, my brother Kevin, and I arrived to find the Library tucked in between towering trees and completely enveloped in the densest fog. The entire scene was magical, and only made more so by the song that plays in the background of this quick video:

I only wish I would have moved the camera more slowly, in spite of the speed it reminds of how time stood still that night. The entire hour plus before Animal Collective played was filled for much of the same ethereal sounds, none of which I recognized, but this one stood above all else.

I spent the better part of tonight with that video looped, trying in vain to decipher the lyrics with the hope of identifying the song, when at last I remembered seeing an app for my iPhone called Shazam. Sure enough, a ten second sample identified it, and after scouring the internet again I finally had my song (it seems to be a live version from SxSW, the album is all but impossible to find). Here it is:

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The show itself was almost an afterthought given the majesty of the setting, the crisp and cool air ever so slightly misty from the fog, the history of the land on which we stood, and the band that brought each one of us there. But my most cherished memory is the few hours I was able to share with my family in such a magnificent place, and now I have a song to take me there in an instant.

A friend of mine from Belgium, someone I’ve never met but know from following her pictures on flickr, called lamazone had this to say about of one of her pictures:

Dunno why, but I’m thinking about getting older. It’s not a midlife crisis, maybe it’s because my grandpa seems to be one of the last survivors in his family. He buried a good friend of his last week and is not getting any younger himself. He told me about his youth and his years in the US. He doesn’t have any pictures of those years (the twenties) whereas I take pictures of my breakfast. The times they are a-changing.

The line “He doesn’t have any pictures of those years whereas I take pictures of my breakfast.” stopped me in my tracks. Not only does my generation take those same silly pictures and videos too, we do so to share them with the world. I look at the variety and sheer volume of memories Abby and I have already archived for Sawyer and only wish I had the same for me.

Fortunately on my last trip home I had a chance to rekindle some wonderful memories of my youth, and what I lack in volume is more than made up in the singularity of these images. Take this one of me in 1985, just 12 years old, holding David Lee Roth’s Just a Gigilo / I Ain’t Got Nobody in one hand and Run DMC’s King of Rock in the other. I’m pretty sure that was illegal in most states at the time:

I have no idea how I convinced my parents to buy me those albums, for Easter no less, but I guess the precedent was set nearly two years prior when they bought me my first walkman and Def Leopard’s Pyromania for my tenth birthday. Take note of the following: a walkman as big as my head, air-traffic controller headphones, my crossing guard sash with a badge over my heart, and a belt buckle embossed with my name. I am too cool for school:

Lest you think this was some sort of aberration, my friend and I lip-synched a Def Leopard song for music class in fourth grade around the same time. (I just remembered how we made guitars and speakers out of cardboard, painted them with Tempera paints, and connected them with string.) I’m not sure how that was acceptable, but when the guy on the left is dressed as a box of camels I guess anything goes. Ah, public schools:

And yes, that is a bandana around my left leg just above my knee.

The point of sharing this is more for me than you. It’s an affirmation of the role of music in my life, the way it then expanded my horizons and marked my milestones, and the fact that it still does in every way today.

This past month has been a blur, but as I exit April and enter the month of May I do so with a newfound strength and unexpected support from these pictures. Music is most definitely my calling, and the clarity I have around what comes next would be alarming if it weren’t so well-aligned with everything in my past.

So yes, the times they are a-changing, but who I am at the core remains the same. My love for music makes me want to give something meaningful and lasting back, and my passion for the internet and its ability to connect and coalesce gives me the way to do it. I truly have lived my life for this opportunity, and I can’t wait to devote my life to making it happen.

It has been a while since I last posted, but a lack of activity here is a result of some pretty heavy lifting everywhere else in my life. All of that takes a back seat for the next five days as Abby and I head home with Sawyer to be with family.

I could write volumes on my love for Ultramarine, dissecting each and every song, marveling at their ability to both embrace and transcend the sounds of their day, and raving about their uncanny thematic coherence across albums (artwork and all). It is safe to say that their music called into question everything I once listened to and demanded that anything new be of a similarly lasting and outstanding quality.

As for “Citizen,” from 1995 no less, I have had this song in near constant rotation for most of the month, and now with the clock winding down on March I finally have the time and space to share it with you. I even transcribed the lyrics too:

I know that you
you are scared
of your own shadow

It’s your little voice inside you
and it makes your every move

People are always questions about you
why can’t you just tell them the truth
When your hands are tied and your hanging from a string
why don’t you swing and set yourself free

Let go of your ego
and I’ll let go of mine
for though your eyes are cloudy
i know that they should shine

Go hang from a string
why don’t you swing and set yourself free
You say that if you jump, gravity will pull you under
but gravity knows nothing over love for you

Let go of your ego
and I’ll let go of mine
for though your legs are stumbling
I know that they should climb

It might just be the most sensual and spiritual song I know, and those lyrics reverberate throughout my soul unlike any other, especially as of late. Listen:

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This post most likely marks the end of an era for me and my beloved tankt. What was once my personal playground may very well become my professional pursuit. I would not be able to even contemplate this next phase without the explorations I have done here, and I am very grateful for those of you who have shared this experience with me. Thank you all.

Normally, I play a SOTD over and over while I write these posts. Not so with this amazing new song from Animal Collective, in fact I can’t do anything beyond marvel at its absolute perfection: so sparse yet so full, so chaotic yet so incredibly peaceful. And that bass, those drums, the claps, the carnivalesque keys, and that seemingly endless outro, I defy you to find a more spectacular song, at least one that isn’t on the very same album!

I bought the limited edition vinyl when it was released on the 6th with the hopes of getting the digital download in advance of tomorrow official release. When that failed, I finally relented and had my brother send me the leaked copy — I really don’t know how or why I held off so long. Oh, and, I would have posted this sooner, but I chose to keep my friend the Web Sherriff at bay instead.

As an aside, I will never understand why music has to be kept under lock and key. Why turn your most devoted fans into thieves? At any rate, what really matters here is the music:

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And the lyrics:

Just a sec more in my bed
Hope the machine’s working right
When it’s just precisely tuned
That’s how it comes out so nice

Make sure my kid’s got a jacket
and coat and shoes and hat
Strap a stroller to my back
Bouncing along every crack

What can I do to make it pass?
Sing a song to pass the playground
What can I do as traffic pass?
Guard my girl from muffler’s black gas
What can I do to make it fast?
Pop a jump but not too hard
Take a little left up at the right
Stop and look at the traffic signal

Up uneven steps and talking’s hard

Substitute Panda’s daughter for my son, and that’s exactly how I feel each and every day. My daily routine revolves around him, and my time with him in the city is so heavily oriented to protecting him from its many dangers. I even sneer at muffler’s black gas, as if that’s going to prevent its toxic spray from hitting his young lungs.

I love my role as his protector, and cherish the life I share with Abby and him. Leave aside the keen composition of “Daily Routine,” what seals it for me is that now all too familiar fatherly emotion. It’s such a stunningly beautiful song, so raw and intense, I can only hope you enjoy it as much as I do. And yes, the rest of the album is every bit as good.

As you may know, I am deeply interested in politics, in particular the subtle art of crafting imagery, shaping narratives, and building harmony to create something much larger than a moment’s victory. Yes, I want a movement. Oddly enough, these past few of weeks of writing about music have taught me more about love than anything else — I believe love it is what is uniting us at this moment and that is precisely why hatred can no longer win in America.

In 2003, I was drawn back into politics by Howard Dean, the man who gave voice to a dormant and disillusioned left, and in turn tasked me to use my newfound passion to participate in the political process. I genuinely loved what Dean stood for, and under his leadership I was never completely ruled by my growing distaste for George W. Bush, but that is precisely what the election became under John Kerry: a referendum on Bush’s first term, an outlet for my contempt, and a battle against those who absolutely loved him. We all know how that turned out.

Leap forward to 2008 and our present nominee, Barack Obama. Much has been written about his ability to unite us and even more will be said if he emerges victorious, but the one thing that’s missing from the conversation is love. Let me define it: it’s a deep affection for him and each other, an openness to the moment and the opportunity, a hope and hunger for something more meaningful, and most of all a sense of wonder that this is even possible. Here we are on the verge of electing an African-American man with a decidedly foreign name to succeed the most culturally divisive and thoroughly destructive Presidency in our brief history!

Is it any wonder that these stories like Charles meets Barack and Michael Shaw‘s incredible post about James Armstrong, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s one-time barber seen in the photo above, are floating to the surface? Just look at the history on that wall, and look at that smile — it’s not smug or self-satisfied, it’s genuinely composed and content that each and every struggle has been worth it.

I can think of no better song than “Damn” to sum up the confluence of their dreams and aspirations, our shared trials and tribulations, and America’s chance to make history tomorrow. This track from George Evelyn, aka DJ E.A.S.E., aka Nightmares on Wax, and vocalist Chyna B. is dripping with funk, soaring with soul, and absolutely bouncing with the energy of new life:

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Damn, indeed.

Completely ungoogleable by their proper spelling, !!! is more often both printed and pronounced Chk Chk Chk, but any other three monosyllabic grunts will suffice in a pinch. Like Brooklyn’s Gang Gang Dance, !!! is another New York band (with some from Sacramento, CA and Portland, OR too), and I thought their epic “Me and Guiliani Down by the School Yard (A True Story)” track would be an excellent followup to Monday’s GGD Song of the Day.

It’s difficult to escape the reality of our current situation in America: our economy is crumbling under the weight of its own inequity; our government is in crisis-mode with the Bush administration trying desperately to conceal the true extent of the damage they have done; our environment is changing, rapidly, perhaps beyond the point of no return; our human race is at war with one another over the last remaining drops of oil, soon to be water and food as well; and the list goes on and on. Yet through it all, there is an unmistakeable sense of hope, and a deep desire to find another way forward in the world.

People always ask me, “What’s so fucking great about dancing?”
How the fuck should I know? Yeah, even I can barely understand it
But when the music takes over, the music takes control
Here’s a message to you, Rudy and you, sir, Mr. Bloomberg
And the rest of you ties-too-tight dudes
Y’all could learn a lesson, by losing inhibitions, yeah
Losing yourself in the music, losing yourself in the moment
Because we have nothing more than this very second
You can’t count on the one coming after, no one’s sure about the one before

At the risk of getting all raved out on you, and believe me I was only barely on the periphery of that mindset in the mid 90s, what can and will unite us is love, and dancing, and living each and every moment to the fullest. I truly believe a singular focus on the here and now, with an eye toward our comparable struggles and common dreams in life, can bridge our most historic gaps.

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My generation is on the cusp of taking control of our country, and all involved deserve a little dancing in the streets. Our work to end oppression and discrimination may be difficult, but it need not be drudgery, and I for one plan to keep on dancing, laughing, and loving for the next four years and well beyond.

Edited slightly after posting.

Charles Alexander was married for 69 years, but lost his wife just four weeks ago. Ever since then, he’s poured his heart and soul into volunteering for Barack Obama (via debha):

I can’t watch this without crying, but I am more hopeful than ever that Obama can truly bring about the change we so desperately need in America. Yes, change has become a catchall phrase in this election, but look into Charles Alexander’s eyes to see what it really means — it has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with making the world a better place for his grandkids and great grandkids. That’s a life worth living and a love worth sharing.

btw, music takes a back seat to politics on tankt today, but will resume with another Song of the Day tomorrow.

I recently joined a Flickr group called San FranGone: The City as it Was, and every time I check in on it I am rewarded with these incredible glimpses of life way back then. In the past few days a Flickrino by the name of bobster1985 began posting a series of clips from an archive of public domain films. Here are a few of my favorite.

From 1941, this one has an extended view of the people and vehicles on Market Street and finishes on Nob Hill looking down California Street:

Also from 1941, this one appears to have been taken from Nob Hill as it shows the Financial District before it was modernized, some say Manhattanized, in the 60s and 70s:

Going further back in time to the early 1930s, this is a view of life on the streets, featuring a glimpse of the Ferry Building, Chinatown, and docks (back when they were a vital part of the city):

Lastly, here’s an utterly amazing view of life at the turn of the 20th Century, before and after the quake of 1906. Market Street looks positively docile compared to back then:

Admittedly, I have virtually no concept or awareness of history in the formal sense. I do however, have a fondness for cities, and a longing to understand their pasts and a desire to participate in their present. These movies are endlessly fascinating to that end, as they show a life every bit as chaotic then as it is now.

It’s that energy that draws to me to cities, the feeling of being in an urban wilderness where anything can and will happen, and I am fortunate to be able to experience it each and every day in San Francisco. That said, those images of Market Street after the 1906 earthquake are a vivid reminder of how fragile everything is, and how quickly it can all change in a heartbeat.

I don’t know that I will live here forever, but I do love living here now, and I am eternally grateful for the chance to be a part of its past, present, and future.

And I couldn’t be happier about that fact. Here’s Sawyer demonstrating his uncanny ability to take over the much desired middle of the bed:

Note the pillow barricades. While merely preventative when sleeping, they were once sufficient to contain him when awake, now they’re nothing more than minor impediments to his progress. He’s growing up so fast.

Though the demands on my time and efforts at work are rapidly increasing, and happily so, there’s nothing I love more than coming home to find my wife and son eagerly awaiting my return. In fact, I can’t think of any other way I’d rather finish my day, and the joy of that moment brings new life to me no matter how tired I might be.

Now if only we could get him to sleep through the night again!