A lot can happen over the course of a year, and a bit. The entries are not frequent on this blog, and I realize this is an old blog. Years and years now, maybe five years old? I can't check the origination date from this screen. But let's say, life is flying by. I married that man, that music obsessed fellow audiophile, and now we are separated. I found that there are other addictions in life that can make a corroborating musical addiction irrelevant. Addictions to food, to alcohol, to helping and being helped. I didn't know that trying to rescue someone from life's unpleasant situations was an addiction until I found myself stuck in the hell of rescuing someone who claimed to need rescuing. None of us really need rescuing, not unless we are stuck fifty feet down a literal well and would actually die without being rescued. And even then, if it is our time to go, rescue might not be the thing. To rescue someone from unpleasant life realities caused by their own actions and behaviors, even when aided by addictions that aren't really their fault, well that is a terrible imprisoning addiction on it's own to have. I am a rescuer. I hid for many years so I didn't know how deep my addiction to "saving" others at the expense of my own well-being went. Now I know, and now we are separated.
During this relationship, however, the world of Jazz was opened up to me. I had just started to sniff around the edges of jazz when he came into my life. I had picked up Brilliant Corners by Thelonious Monk, and On the Corner by Miles Davis. These two albums continue to define my tastes in jazz - and astonishingly jazz fusion. I found them during my own musical explorations but then with Dan, the entire category of jazz really opened up for me. It was not a taste I was capable of having in my twenties. But now, I seek it out. Wes Montgomery was one I found, and Eric Dolphy. I never knew of these men before. Free jazz can be so exciting and moving, primal in the depths it goes to draw out a listening emotion. Ornette Coleman I had previously made a slight acquaintance with due to an interesting stint in my early twenties working at the Barnes and Noble music department. An Ornette Coleman live album was on the listening booths and for some reason I was so taken by the crazy discordant beauty of that album, and listened through it several times. But I never pursued what drew me to that, I just remembered it, and continued to assume Jazz was not for me. Isn't amazing how we can live in delusion despite mounting evidence to the contrary?
I am a jazz lover now. I would listen to On the Corner at any moment of any given day and just be enraptured. Kind of Blue, and some of the melodies therein, now feel as essential as any Beatles album - more essential, for me.  I think of the vibraphone as a real musical force, a veritable ambiance generator, and far more than an instrument used with pretentious kitsch in the credits to "Frasier".
This is enough for me today. I'm unemployed though, so maybe I'll pick up the thread of album discovery more frequently during my abundance of free time....

the expected boyfriend?

it's not odd, that I found who I found and I am with him. people find mates every day, they fall in love and somehow decide to share a life together and that has been done so many times in history there is not a number to count the hookups, breakups and stories that would chronicle this most usual and normal of human activities. I don't know why I assumed I was immune from such a thing - I've labored much of life under the misapprehension that I am abnormal - it's the only way I have to really explain the thing I hate explaining, which is that I'm afraid of pretty much everything, and everything I'm not afraid of I hide from view of the world. fear kept me alone - but it didn't stop everyone else around me from skipping in and out of relationships with apparent abandon and no seeming effort whatsoever - which was baffling, because the mere act of speaking to a boy i was interested in was forbidden, or at the very best a laborious torture. men that were interested in me were clearly non-existent. that is perhaps why I have felt the lack of long term relationships so acutely. I barely managed short term relationships, and mostly just managed friendships. my record, before this mate I have found myself unexpectedly in possession of, was three months. i didn't even realize i was in a relationship after i'd been seeing that guy for three months, until one tuesday - we only ever hung out on tuesdays - i remembered with a start that it WAS tuesday. oh, i said indifferently to myself, I suppose I'm going to have sex tonight. that was when I knew I needed to end that - because one shouldn't forget one is dating someone. is that even a relationship? whatever that was, it was my longest at three months. and now dan. i don't think it has even been three months, but time is no indicator here, for he is truly the longest actual relationship I've ever had because I call him my boyfriend, which I have, except for that one time in eighth grade when I had a boyfriend for two days, never called a boy i was having sex with my boyfriend before.

i suppose i am defining my history of relationships as "periods of time in which I more or less regularly had sex with someone." that might have be my problem to begin with, but i'm not actually sure this is interesting.

so i have a boyfriend, who calls me his girlfriend. the reason i have condescended to date him is that he is even more obsessed with music than I am, and as far as I'm concerned, that is probably the only thing that really matters. he is a vinyl collector. i am unsurprised by fate's choice. it is fascinating to me, vinyl collecting and therefore, he too is fascinating to me. i, the girl who finds very little about guys interesting, found a guy who is everything i assumed i should never date, fascinating. figures. today I crouched in a thrift store, hands filthy with record cover dust, going over the few records I pulled from their mostly Christian/Classical inventory, and discussing whether they should be purchased. "what's the condition?" "eh...fair." "okay, yeah, pick it up." he doesn't have a job, he isn't even a citizen of the united states (hello canadian) he's missing a tooth and he hates to exercise - despite these apparent deformities, as I crouched in that record store today going over the acceptable to purchase vinyl that I'd culled from the stacks, I knew that I am actually dating someone I'd care to be with.

The Swell Season - Strict Joy

The Swell Season's Oscar winning song "Falling Slowly" is one of the more beautiful love songs I've had the pleasure of listening to while staring dreamily out a rain sluiced car window. It's been a while since I've listened to this song, but that is at it should be. I've overplayed too many songs I find beautiful and emotionally compelling, and they lose their impact for when they might be more needed. "Falling Slowly" is not currently loaded onto my I-tunes and I think I shall leave it that way until the song becomes a situational necessity. If you are not familiar with this song, download it at once.

I was aware this album had come out and meant to purchase it during my next music supplementing visit to Easy Street Records. Before that happened, I chanced to hear an interview on NPR that increased my interest in this album, not just because they played excerpts from some lovely songs, but because the interview included some painfully intimate moments from Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. The brief story of their relationship is that they both starred in the poignant musical "Once". They had a relationship, it died, they continued on to make their second album.

The part I remember most from this interview was a moment where the interviewer asked Glen who these songs were about - clearly expecting him to name Marketa, which he did. Marketa exclaimed that she didn't know that. I believe that we are all voyeurs, and generally I think we feel secretly ashamed of this and often, unable to control it. However, during this interview, I felt priveledged to be a rubbernecker to someone's emotional hurt. Both Glen and Marketa opened themselves up frankly and without rancour during the interview, and I felt that it was their choice to let us in so that their art was better understood. I recommend going to the NPR website, where you can listen to this revealing interview (not salaciously revealing, but one of those wonderful moments that make you feel that you are allowed into a talented person's emotional landscape and it opens the music and it's meaning to you...sort of like a drop of water opening up a scotch in a way that enhances the flavor of the scotch to a better understanding of its complexities. Heh. Whatever. Maybe that's a dumb analogy.)

Either way, this is a beautiful, low key album. I recommend it, back story or no.

The Cave Singers - Welcome Joy

My current favorite album. I heard one of these songs on the radio, and knew immediately that I wanted the entire album. I was perfectly correct in that assumption, as, once bought, I found that every song on the album was wanted. On The Cave Singer's label's (Matador) website, they describe the Welcome Joy as "deliciously atumnal" which is apt. It's one of those albums that makes me feel like everything is going to be all right, and a crisp fall day infuses me with that same full feeling of gratitude and wholeness. There's something warm, optimistic and hopeful about the album. There are standout songs and some are more rollicking than others, but every song has a quality that blends it cohesively to the whole of the album. Welcome Joy's only fault might be that the songs blend too well at times. Stand outs for me are: Leap and Hen of the Woods (Hen of the Woods is, I think, my favorite - it is achingly beautiful) but every song is outstanding and having a favorite is like being given the delightful choice of which type of pie you would like best for dessert.

The Fleet Foxes 2008 album, Fleet Foxes, has a clear influence, as the folk inflected songs here are also strong on harmonies and melody. However, while the Fleet Foxes album was studied and intricate, Welcome Joy has a spontaneity to it's warmth that allows it to be merely influenced by Fleet Foxes, taking a similar asthetic then following forks and bumps along different branches.

Like Hematite

Something is wrong today. My limbs and my central nervous system - while admitting a past acquaintance with each other - are not currently speaking. I don't care how rigorously my heart is pumping vital life force to my arms and legs, they are deaf to the encouragement and apparently incapable of peeling themselves back up from the couch after I got home from November's CD spree and plopped myself down upon it. I believe it to be the particular plight of a relatively new government worker unaccustomed to random holidays in the middle of the week, such as Veteran's Day, and the narcotic effects of such. Still, something feels wrong today because each of my limbs have taken upon the density of hematite.

Today I bought my first Beatles album. Ever. I am a mildly music obsessed thirty-one year old and I did not own a Beatles album. I bought The White Album because of the bitching album artwork. I WILL play it. I will play BOTH CDs. MORE THAN ONCE. But not today. It seems too much to ask a girl to buy AND listen to my first ever Beatle's album on the same day. It would seem like I CARED or that I was RELENTING in my avowed indifference to them. I thought about picking up Bob Dylan's Christmas album today too, but I will wait to buy that, and Tori's Christmas album, after Thanksgiving. Since I get wildly angry every time I hear Christmas music in stores before Thanksgiving, purchasing two Christmas albums on November 11 would have been tantamount to gathering together everything that is pure and holy and pouring pig's blood over it at the prom. But the two albums are on my to-buy list, since my next CD shopping spree is necessarily a couple paychecks away, which places it firmly post-Thanksgiving. I must be getting old. I'm putting Christmas albums on my list.

Twenty-five Kick-ass Exercise Songs
1. Cobrastyle - Robyn
2. Stronger - Kanye West
3. That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings
4. Wishing Well - The Airborne Toxic Event
5. Help, I'm Alive - Metric
6. Atlas - Battles
7. Mausam & Escape - A.R. Rahman (even with wierd folksy beginning)
8. Firestarter - Prodigy
9. Just Can't Get Enough - Depeche Mode
10. Game Set and Match - The Herbaliser
11. California Uber Alles - Dead Kennedys
12. Letter From An Occupant - The New Pornographers
13. I'm So Excited - Le Tigre
14. Boyz - M.I.A.
15. Heartbeats - The Knife
16. Diablo Rojo - Rodrigo Y Gabriela
17. Blind - Hercules and Love Affair
18. Dancing With Myself -Billy Idol
19. Dr. Yang - Ben Folds
20. Touches You - Mika
21. Shut the Club Down - Girl Talk
22. Womanizer - Britney Spears
23. Big Pimpin' - Jay-Z and UGK
24. Don't Ask Me - Public Image Ltd.
25. Finally - Ce Ce Penington

Summer Playlist 2009

This is a great summer mix. Even though after I put it together, I realized that some of the songs reference winter or the darkening of lights...but whatever. The whole mix SOUNDS like it is really about fun and summer and whimsy. Also, I realized I need to drop a few of these songs from the mix cd circuit. I've overused several of them. Resolution time!!!!!

RESOLUTION 1: Okay, this will be (I swear) the last time I use 'Fidelity', 'It's All Good', 'That's It, I Quit, I'm Movin' On' and 'Travelin' Man' in a mix. I think in the future, if I am going to reference a year in the title of my playlist I really should make at least a third of the playlist contain songs that are from the year referenced, nitpicky I know. Perhaps I should have just called this CD "A Summer Mix". This playlist only has two songs from 2009. But let's not let that deter us from the awesomeness that is this mix, or deny the validation behind the miriad of times I've played it, but in the future I vow to be more current if a mix references a year. I could just change the title, you say? But I can't, it's been burned, inked with a sharpie and passed on. There is no going back.

Summer Mix '09

1. Lights Out (Diplo's Panda Bear Mix) - Santogold
2. Always a Friend - Alejandro Escovedo
3. Fidelity - Regina Spektor (why do I insist? I mean, its not like this song isn't also overplayed everywhere else too)
4. Watch the Sunrise - Big Star
5. I Don't Know - Lisa Hannigan
6. I Don't Love Anyone - Belle and Sebastian
7. Honky Tonkin' - Joe Ely
8. Travelin' Man - Dolly Parton (seriously, though it's getting banned, I have NEVER gotten sick of this song)
9. Why Look at the Moon - The Waterboys
10. Polite Dance Song - The Bird and the Bee (2009 entry #1)
11. A-Punk - Vampire Weekend
12. Black Horse and the Cherry Tree - KT Tunstall (too obvious, too four summers ago, I should ban this one too because it too has made numerous appearances outside of enough, I just didn't think to mention it above. Seriously, though, I LOVE this song.)
13. Just A Little Bit - Etta James
14. Iko Iko - Cyndi Lauper
15. Jambalaya (On the Bayou) - Hank Williams
16. Bad Things - Jace Everett (2009 entry #2. And also perhaps the very first television theme song that I have listened to voluntarily, and added to my record collection, that I first heard as a television theme song.)
17. I Can't Dance - Gram Parsons
18. Certainly Cliquot - Robyn Hitchcock (I wish I hadn't used this song...the only one I didn't end up liking in the mix. But now it's flawed presence is as much a part of the mix as the one-two finishing punch of "I'm Allright" followed by "It's All Good". I like the song, just not here. Maybe it's there to remind me to avoid songs with jarring voices that declare in a strange and deep voice-over "she uncorked herself/teeth spilling from her nostrils" while a small chorus cheerfully chirps "she's certainly cliquot/she's certainly cruel". I think lately I've just been liking the word Cliquot, and thought I'd put it here. BAD choice, Shannon. Beirut has a good song called "Cliquot". It's a good word. It's a particular vintage of wine, I believe, but it has a beautiful staccato quality. I fell victim to the title, and forced it into the playlist...sigh.)
19. Outbound Plane - Nanci Griffith (last time I use this song, too)
20. That's It, I Quit, I'm Movin' On - Sam Cooke (last time!!!!!)
21. Telegraph - Ochestral Manoevers in the Dark
22. Just A Ride - Jem
23. Little Yellow Spider - Devendra Banhart
24. I'm Allright - The Go-Betweens
25. It's All Good (with Damien Dempsey) - Sinead O'Connor (LAST TIME)

This is a self-indulgent mix. Half of these are just, plain and simple, MY favorite songs to bop in the sunshine in the car too. Of course I give this my extra fancy AAA mix rating, but I need to open these playlists up a little more.

Funny story about how this mix came about, by the way. I wanted to give this guy a mix tape for summer - he mentioned, mumbled actually, about looking for summer type music in a cd store - so I thought, aha! I will make him a summer mix. I don't know if he is the type who likes mixes because he always burns me entire albums, but I was trying something new. So I put together the mix, loved it so much I listened to it thirty times before giving it to him. So, then, when I handed it to him I mumbled "I made a summer mix for everyone. I decided you get one" because I thought I might like him and didn't want to admit to making him a mix CD - because mix CDs are SIGNIFICANT, you know? I just sort of tossed it in his lap. Do I really like him? We-ell, I don't really know - but not enough or too much to admit to making him a mix cd. So THEN after I said that, I realized that it was kind of a good idea to make a summer mix CD, so even though summer is half over, I am going to start handing out the mix. Then I wasn't lying. I do stand by it even if it is mostly indulgence. (P.S. I did hand it out to like two other people, but continued to listen to it myself for the rest of the summer. And I know now that I DO NOT like him like him, if you know what I mean, so THANK GOD I didn't admit to making him a personalized mix CD.)

In Retrospect...

When my friends experience times of crisis, one of my stronger inclinations is to go throw a mixed CD together, because who doesn't feel better with new music? Normally I resist this urge, understanding how juvenile this might seem to someone who is trying to grapple with, say, issues of life and death or extreme physical pain. I resist the urge for the most part, but there are a couple extreme cases when I have given in to this urge to make a cd to cure what ails you. Unfortunately, whether or not the recipient of the mix cd reads much into it, each mix cd becomes invested with excruciating meaning once I've given the cd away.

Last December, my boss of seven years suddenly became ill. He was having debilitating chest pains. He kept on working, but his color was so gray and he looked awful. He was a major mentor in my life and I was passionately loyal to him, so to see him struggle through this health issue was torture. What could I, small insignificant Shannon, do in a time when he suffered so? Make cds of course. He and I had often traded cds over the years, both of us being compulsive music collectors but having incredibly different tastes. It makes me laugh, but I almost never liked what he gave me,though he often came 'round to the albums I gave him which just proves my point that I have the best taste in music ever.

A few days of this illness wore on and he looked worse and worse. I started to feel frantic. I sensed what was going to happen, even though I wouldn't acknowledge it to myself. One day, after a particularly difficult day for him - I even think he snapped at me - I went home in a frenzy, agonizing over my beloved boss being so sick he snapped at me. I stayed up late into the night burning cds for him. I started writing letters to him, trying to tell him how much he meant to me and how making cds is my way of giving chicken soup to a sick friend. By the time I went to bed, I had burned six or seven albums and had six or seven drafts of this letter littering my living room floor. The next morning I woke up super early and finished burning more albums for him, using up every blank cd I had. I was so excited, I was like - he may be sick, but this will be a little perk for him, because I knew he LOVED borrowing albums from people and listening to new music. Sometimes I think it was less about whether he liked the music or not, but about being able to say he'd heard this or that in any conversation. I think he really truly wanted to be as well versed and knowledgeable about all types of music as possible - to him, it was the ultimate cool, which I totally understood because I felt the same way.

That morning I had an early off site meeting, but I was hopping with excitement to give my boss twelve new albums and I was really excited about some of them and I just wanted him to have them so badly. I got back to the office around ten or eleven, and when I pulled up his car was in the parking lot. I practically ran inside so that I could give him the cds, because he often left at that time in the day. I got to his cubicle, but it was empty. I ran back to the window and his car was gone. We must have passed in the elevator. I left the cds on his chair and thought expectantly, excitedly, of him finding them the next morning.

That afternoon I left early. I don't remember why, now. I just did. My good friend called me around 4pm. When I answered the phone I shouted 'holla!' Silence met my greeting and I knew something was wrong. I have some bad news, she said. And I knew what it was before she even said. "Neil Callahan passed away around 3pm this afternoon", which was around the time I was driving home from work. For the next few days I couldn't go into work. And I kept picturing those cds on his chair, just sitting. Never listened to. Unacknowledged.

Fast forward to last month, which is when I received the news that my friend had had triple bypass heart surgery. Yes, the friend that I talked about in the last post. I went into frantic frenzy mode, because here was somebody else, somebody closely connected to Neil even, that was so deathly sick. I had to make him a cd. It was an emotional imperative.

ryan
1. 'All Your Way' Morphine
2. 'You Don't Know What Love Is (You Just Do As Your Told)' The White Stripes
3. 'Letter From An Occupant' The New Pornographers
4. 'Train In Vain' The Clash
5. 'Whistling In the Dark' Firewater
6. 'Portland Oregon' Loretta Lynn
7. 'That's It, I Quit, I'm Movin' On' Sam Cooke
8. 'Game, Set & Match' The Herbiliser (featuring More or Les)
9. 'Go Tell the Women' Grinderman
10. 'Paper Planes' M.I.A.
11. 'Hang Me Up To Dry' Cold War Kids
12. 'Angry' The Bug (featuring Tippa Irie)
13. 'Shake and Pop' Nick Lowe
14. 'Boney Fingers' Hoyt Axton
15. 'Traveling Man' Dolly Parton
16. 'Monkey Gone to Heaven' Pixies
17. 'Ring the Bells' James
18. 'Whole Wide World' Wreckless Eric
19. 'My Year In Lists' Los Campesinos!
20. 'The Worst Day Since Yesterday' Flogging Molly
21. 'Midnight Rider' Willie Nelson
22. 'Long Way Home' Tom Waits
23. 'extraordinary machine' Fiona Apple

I put this together thinking about how cool the music was. I ignored the lyrics of the songs, for the most part (except for maybe the first and last songs, were are signature songs of mine and explain Shannon better than any other songs I've ever heard) so I gave it to him (I wrote in huge red letters on the front THIS CD IS GUARANTEED 100% AWESOME) and after he had it, it occurred to me to think about WHAT the songs were saying. Why is this so important? Because this particular guy is the unrequited love of my life and though I do try my part to be over him, I wasn't really at the time and had some residual uncertainties about something that happened between us earlier in the year that never panned out. I listened to this CD in horror, after I gave it to him, thinking about our past history and the fact that the guy just had heart surgery. Hear are some choice lyrics:

You just keep on repeating/all those empty "I love you's/until you say you deserve better/I'm gonna lay right into you/you don't know what love is/you just do as you're told/just as a child of ten might act/but you're far too old/you're not hopeless or helpless/and I hate to sound cold/but you don't know what love is/you just do as your told

That's It, I quit, I'm movin' on

You didn't stand by me/no not at all/you didn't stand by me/no way

It's been the worst day since yesterday

Portland Oregan and slow gin fizz if that ain't love then tell me what is, uh huh