A personal diary keeping people abreast of what I am working on writing-wise.

Friday, March 31, 2006

PERMANENT RECORDS: THE ONE THAT MOST OF US DREAM ABOUT

Permanent Records is a year-long project. Each Friday (or thereabouts), I will post a new entry about one specific album, chosen due to its significance to myself as a fan. Though the list is numbered, a particular record's placement should not be considered a ranking. There will be 52 albums in all.

This endeavor is based on a concept started by Chris Tamarri at Crisis/Boring Change. It has since been expanded as a concept, as Neal Shaffer takes on a study of album covers over at Leftwich.

This is one of those I warned you about...all about a girl...

40. LONGPIGS - THE SUN IS OFTEN OUT (1996)
Personnel: Crispin Hunt (vocals/guitar), Richard Hawley (guitar), Simon Stafford (bass/piano/hammond), Dee Boyle (drums)
Producer: Kevin Bacon & Jonathan Quamby/ Label: Island/Mother



In the mid-nineties, I was obsessed with this girl that let me dangle for quite a long time. I really believed she was the one, and I was determined to make love happen. When it comes to matters of the heart, I am not one to let the dream die easily. That just wouldn't be romantic.

Anyway, this girl had a voicemail box that I could dial up directly and leave messages on. Often, late at night, I would call and record myself singing songs to her, serenading under her telephonic window. I did it many times, but the only song I remember for sure was "On and On" by Longpigs. Looking back, I'd like to think I sang the whole chorus, including the pre-chorus, "And I wish you would leave me/ and I wish you would go," because that would have really been saying something, but I doubt I did. Instead, I'm sure it was merely a plaintive rendition of the main chorus. "Coz I just can't go on/ So please don't do me wrong/ No, I won't do you harm/ My love for you goes on and on." I can still hear myself, trying to hit all the same cracking notes that Crispin Hunt made sound so effortless, my strained vocal chords instead making it desperate. If I were on the other end, I probably wouldn't have called me back either.

At the time, I was so off my head, I didn't really grasp how apropos the song was to my situation. "All the songs that I've sung you/ More often than you know/ You're the love that I've clung to/ More often than I've let it show"--though obviously I let it show too much. I saw "On and On" as a tribute to undying love, the final defiance of a gangly romantic who wasn't going to accept that relationships were no longer permanent. Somehow, I must have grasped the one-sidedness of the tune. Even if the part of me sitting up front chose to polish the edges off, how could my subconscious miss lyrics like "There's no one else I want beside you/ Give me your coldest shoulder to cry upon/ You're never anywhere I find you/ You're never anything I rely upon"? Some part of me deep down still cared enough about the Jamie S. Rich machine to try to send myself a warning message. Too bad it took ten years to decode it.

Listening again to The Sun is Often Out, it's obvious how it came along at just the right time to provide me with solace. The theme of the album is one of disconnection, of the things that keep two people apart. "She Said" is the song for every boy who has known a girl who he knows is beautiful, but who can never see herself the way he sees her--but it's an answer song with only the question. There is no male point of view, only the things "she" says, her tales of disguising herself with clothes and perfume and other trappings because she can't stand being who she is. "All Hype" follows the one-sided love affair of "On and On" with its wounded cry of, "Oh, for heaven's sake, I needed you today." Sometimes you find you just don't get what you need.

Even the videos drove all this alienation home. For their single of loneliness and obsession, "Lost Myself," Crispin Hunt stands at a telescope, spying on the girl who "sold herself on the one love," the distance keeping them both from pursuing the faded fantasy of modern relationships. He can't live alone, but he doesn't have the guts to traverse the chasm. "I have always found it/ easier to dream about it."



Which isn't to say that The Sun is Often Out is all doom and gloom. The title is not meant to be entirely ironic, nor the cover homage to Sunset Boulevard an entirely negative statement. The floating body has a suitcase in his hand. We're going to drown in this emotion in order to get somewhere, this is traveling by feeling. Songs like "Jesus Christ" and "Elvis" lash out, sonically and lyrically. They sound like a band in a straightjacket thrashing about, trying to find the tune that will break them free. The guitars are all angular, the drums frenzied, the titular references blasphemous. "Jesus Christ, you give me some hope," Hunt sings, and does he mean it as an appeal to the man upstairs or is he breaking the fifth commandment? "Far" revels in a kinky rush, absent of heartbreak, more mercenary in how many times Hunt can declare "I'm in love again," as if each time is different than the previous. In "Sally Dances," he recognizes the hurt of his partner in their twisted tango, but he's not going to let the bad times scare him away. He'd rather grab her and hold her until the manic outburst passes than go away and leave her with her pain. This is what is meant by The Sun is Often Out: no matter how bad it gets, there will always be times where it works.

And as a piece of music, The Sun is Often Out does work. For as much as it often sounds like the band is going to veer off into chaos--think the extended outro to "Elvis" or the shambolic, crashing finale of "She Said"--there isn't a point on the record where a note isn't placed exactly where it's supposed to be. Longpigs have set up their microphones at the center of an imploding heart, and they've captured it all. It's a little like Radiohead, but where that band could have ended up after The Bends if they had decided to cut loose and let it all hang out rather than become precise and studied. Sure, such indulgence of feeling leads to excess, but as any who have felt the sting of lonely teardrops can attest, you can't help it when you hurt too much.



As I am sure anyone can guess, it was never successful between that girl and I. Eventually, it burned itself away, and I got over it. I did, however, get to see Longpigs live, and the barely contained mania of their musical tornado was present on stage. They only had one more album in them, and have since gone on to other things (most notably, guitarist Richard Hawley made several highly acclaimed solo records after a stint as a member of Pulp), and it probably should be no surprise. They burned too hot with the schizophrenic passion of the kinds of love affairs they wrote about, and doing that night after night in front of audiences with varying levels of interest (again, not unlike inconsistent lovers in the face of consistent love) seems like it would destroy you. Even though their second record, Mobile Home, wasn't nearly so heavy, I imagine they had to get away because the simple sight of one another served as a reminder of how much it hurt.

But at least we have this lovely album to remind us of when we were still together.

#52 #51 #50 #49 #48 #47 #46 #45 #44 #43 #42 #41



Reminder: Look, you can buy this album for less than a buck, and as always, this post is full of links to Amazon--a click on any one of them when shopping, and Amazon will shave a few pennies off their take to give to me. So, if my reviews make you all hot and bothered and you just have to own one of the things I'm talking about, use my link and contribute to buying me more stuff to review. (Those reading a Live Journal feed will likely have to click to the actual blog page first before heading over to Amazon, though.) Either way, thanks for reading.

Current Soundtrack: The Sun is Often Out

Current Mood: frustrated

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * My Corporate-Owned Space * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

MY FRIENDS ARE WRITERS, WRITERS OF FICTION

* Jennifer de Guzman has a new short story, "Captive," online at Susurrus Magazine. (Cat owners know that's the sound a cat makes when they sneeze while cleaning themselves. "Lick, lick--susurrus!") This will prove once and for all that Jennifer is not sweet and nice.

* Neal Shaffer has started a new blog to track the progress of his new comic for Oni, Borrowed Time, which also has its own website. (I've added the link to the blog to my permanent Blog Roll linked at the bottom of all my posts. I plan to keep that updated as time goes on.)

* Sarah Grace McCandless will be part of a Washington D.C. lit event on April 10, and she's also posted about her forthcoming book tour. I'm tempted to joke that her upcoming book, The Girl I Wanted To Be, is my biography.

* Greg Rucka's Queen & Country returns to comic book shops tomorrow with issue #29, illustrated by the excellent Chris Samnee. It's a good reason to go to the comic book store. Reason #2 is the release of the Banana Sunday trade paperback collection by Root Nibot and Colleen Coover, the one girl I know who has more girls tell me is their secret girlfriend than any other. If only Colleen knew!

Current Soundtrack: The Decemberists, Picaresque

Current Mood: loving

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * My Corporate-Owned Space * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

THE GIRLS, THEY LOVE TO SEE YOU SHOOT

The March edition of "Can You Picture That?" can now be read here. It's a loving dissection of Dear Wendy, a recent film scripted by Lars von Trier.



While at the Oni site, also stop by Marc Ellerby's posting of flyers promoting Love the Way You Love. Print them out and take them to your local comics retailer, drop them at your favorite record shop, spread the word!



In other news, Sexy Chix got a really good review in the Honolulu Star Dispatch. Click the link and you can see a panel from Chynna's story. There is also a great pull quote about my 12 Reasons Why I Love Her partner Joëlle Jones:

"Another one of the better stories in Sexy Chix is 'The Art of Letting Go' by writer Sarah Grace McCandless and Joëlle Jones. Jones' finely tuned ink work complements McCandless' delicate post-breakup story to a tee."

Well, if they liked that, they haven't seen anything yet. 12 Reasons is going to blow them away. Check out this study done for the flashback sequence, taking us back to Gwen's childhood:



Current Soundtrack: Elvis Costello & the Attractions, "Man Out of Time;" Gogol Bordello, Gypsy Punks (and it's getting old fast)


Current Mood: cranky

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * My Corporate-Owned Space * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

Sunday, March 26, 2006

AND BEFORE THE FIRST KISS

Diamond Previews, the giant monthly comic book catalogue, came out this week. The new issue is for June shipping items and it lists the first volume of Love the Way You Love in the Oni section, pages 316 and 318. Diamond also gives it the distinction of being "Certified Cool." If you go to a comic book shop, ask them to preorder it, and give them the order code of APR06 3293. (When ordering through a bookstore, which you can, tell them that Diamond Bookstore distributes it, and give them the ISBN 1-932664-52-1. I'll also post when the Amazon listing is up.)

And you can preorder without fear, as Marc Ellerby turned in the last of the pages tonight. Volume 1 is all drawn, it just has to be lettered. Marc has really outdone himself, an he's already and even better artist than when he began 66 pages ago. Here is one of my favorite pages from the final batch, sans dialogue:



This is going to be the most fun of any comics this summer. Just look at that! Isn't Marc awesome? He's like 13 years old, and he draws like a badass.

It's been a long-ass weekend. I can't even remember if I mentioned I was doing a last minute manwha for the people contracting me at Ice Kunion. Another writer had a computer mishap and lost all his work, and he didn't have time to finish it when needed, so I basically had to start Friday and do the whole first volume by...well, a couple of hours from now. I am done with the main work, and am just procrastinating on proofing it. I've got one other book to proof (this time for Tokyopop) and then a new script assignment for a third company to get started on for an April 7 deadline--which is just two days after The Everlasting gets back from the copyeditor. I'm pretty booked at the moment. My to-do list is nightmarish.

Current Soundtrack: The Field Mice, Where'd You Learn to Kiss That Way?

Current Mood: stressed

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

Friday, March 24, 2006

SOME AROUSAL, SOME CAROUSAL



The only time I had previously had the opportunity to see Belle & Sebastian live was on September 12, 2001. That was the last time they came through Portland, and given the significance of that date, it was a rather odd show. Most of the audience hadn't really been out of the house during the previous thirty-six hours. For me, it was the first time I wasn't sleeping when the TV had been turned off. No one really knew if we should be there, but we didn't know what else to do. The band came out and did an a cappella cover of "Turn, Turn, Turn," and then after acknowledging the tragedy of the previous day, did their best to create a space away from it for a little while. It was cathartic for all involved.

So, it was with much anticipation that I went to Thursday's show at the Roseland, the exact same place I had seen them before. With a fantastic new album, The Life Pursuit, under their belt, I was excited to finally see the band in their more appropriate context. Joëlle --who was kind enough to accompany me for the evening--had never seen them at all, so it was her real first time. The concert had sold out shortly after going on sale, and expectations were high.

The New Pornographers opened, and we missed most of their set. Thankfully. Everyone keeps telling me I will love this band, but every time I have tried, I can't ever figure out why. My impression last night was that someone needed to tell them this was not 1997 and we are not in Chapel Hill.

Between sets, I spotted comics artist Vera Brosgol and freaked her out by knowing who she was. We met last fall for all of two seconds, so she could be forgiven for not remembering my face. Plus, I was decked out in my silver sharkskin suit, so that was all people were seeing anyway. Black shirt, silver tie, suede-topped black hushpuppies--I was hot. Someone needs to lock this down. (Of course, when I'm hanging with Joëlle --who looked lovely with her hair up and a fitted black shirt--I have to work extra hard not to be the runt of the litter.)

Belle & Sebastian opened with "The State I Am In" and then played a set that drew heavily from both sides of their career, drawing mainly from the first two and the last two albums. There were some real surprises, like "Electronic Renaissance," and a lot of old favorites like "Belle & Sebastian" and "Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying." The Life Pursuit material was even better in the live arena, sounding refreshed once a little of the polish had been scraped off. "White Collar Boy," "Dress Up In You," and "Sukie in the Graveyard" were all really strong. I was impressed overall by how tight the band was, and Stuart Murdoch's singing was more self-assured than his previous reputation would have suggested. The band is still large and unwieldy, with members coming on and off stage and changing instruments frequently, but they had their timing down and there were no flubs. The sound man deserves special credit for keeping everything clear.

Back in 2001, the band performed a new song called "Portland, Oregon" that they had written that day. I promptly forgot about it, but the band surprisingly didn't. It's not a massive song, by any means, I don't even think it's been finished, but it was a treat to have now heard it the only two times it's ever been performed.

The real showstopper, though, was "You Cover's Blown," the self-described indie "Bohemian Rhapsody" that was a double A-side with "Wrapped Up In Books." The song has multiple parts, shifting tempos and styles at the snapping of fingers, but everything was in its right place. During the big techno moment where the characters in the song are out at the clubs, Stuart got on the monitor and hung over the crowd, mimicking the dancers and a DJ spinning records. Beyond the quality of his singing, he's really amped up his stage presence. His between-song banter was amusing and natural, and his spastic dancing was a little Ian Curtis-ish (an allusion aided by his resemblance to the actor who played Curtis in 24-Hour Party People). He's a unique frontman, as his charisma is equaled by his genial nature. He's a star while also seeming like your best friend from down the coffee shop.



The main set closed with "Judy and the Dream of Horses," and you could feel the swell of excitement as it rippled through the crowd. I thought Joëlle might leap over the people in front of us and make a mad dash for the stage when the recognition of the opening chords hit her. Our love was well-placed, as the performance was love in itself.

Belle & Sebastian encores are reserved for requests, and though we wanted "Meat & Potatoes," Joëlle and I were a little too far back to be in the ensuing melee of title shouting. Ultimately, the band chose "Expectations" and "Lazy Line Painter Jane." They only agreed on the second one after a girl in the audience volunteered to take the female lead. Her name was Amy and she looked the part of a Belle & Sebastian fan, with her long pigtails, glasses, little tweed coat, and plaid skirt. She did an amazing job. Once she got her confidence going, her only flaw was bopping her head so much, she kept turning her mouth from the microphone. Still, that's no real complaint. To snap into a band that well, and do it in front of a big crowd, is really impressive.

Sadly, my own little bedroom fantasy for the night did not come through. At no point did Stuart Murdoch say, "Ladies and gentleman, we have a comic book on sale in the back. One of the stories was written by a Portland citizen, Jamie S. Rich, and we hope he's here tonight because he's brilliant. This is a song called 'Marx & Engels,' and it's for you, Jamie." Alas, it was not to be....

I don't get out to concerts much anymore, so when I do go, I want it to deliver. Belle & Sebastian delivered, and how. We were elated as we left the club. Not even the return of the rain could get us down. In fact, it was almost too perfect to step into the night air, our ears buzzing with the fading sound of music, and feel the cold water on our faces.

Current Soundtrack: OMD, Liberator

Current Mood: restless

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

PERMANENT RECORDS: NEAR & FAR

Permanent Records is a year-long project. Each Friday (or thereabouts), I will post a new entry about one specific album, chosen due to its significance to myself as a fan. Though the list is numbered, a particular record's placement should not be considered a ranking. There will be 52 albums in all.

This endeavor is based on a concept started by Chris Tamarri at Crisis/Boring Change. It has since been expanded as a concept, as Neal Shaffer takes on a study of album covers over at Leftwich. (Coincidentally, Neal's as a whole is as much a celebration of vinyl as mine is this week.)

41. GROVER SINGS THE BLUES (1974)
Personnel: The "Sesame Street" cast with Frank Oz as Grover
Producer: Joe Raposo / Label: Children's Records of America



Amongst music junkies, there is a special breed that is addicted to vinyl. Some of this breed are fairly convinced--and can make a convincing demonstration on the matter--that record albums sound better than compact discs. Some of us have a more nostalgic attachment to the things: we like to hold them in our hands, to feel the big black circles and have the artwork at the 12" X 12" size. Additionally, we have a distinct reaction to the crackles and pops of needle meeting groove. For me, in particular, it's the opening hiss, in that empty space between the edge of the LP and the first recorded sound.

I would wager that just about every one of us has special pieces in their collection that they found at garage sales or thrift stores. My heyday for this kind of shopping was back in the early '90s when CDs were new and people were dumping their old vinyl, and record-buying hadn't yet achieved critical collector mass and thrift store digging wasn't on the hipster radar. I need remind no one that hipsters ruin everything, and once kitsch enters any artistic pursuit, the scene is doomed. Factor in the internet and that you can pretty much find anything on eBay, and it's suddenly become really difficult to find hidden treasures in physical brick-and-mortar stores anymore. (Amusingly, I wrote about my slavish love of vinyl several years ago for the Portland Mercury and received a disdainful letter from a "true" collector who accused me of being the hipster and threatened to shove his vinyl-cleaning brush up my ass. It's also the first time I made a play on the Style Council album title that inspired this blog's name. Read that dusty old antique here.)

One of my favorite thrift-store scores is my 10" of The Spirit of Zen as explained by Manly P. Hall and released by the Los Angeles-based Philosophical Research Society. It was printed on red vinyl, but sadly has no copyright date, so I am not positive how vintage it actually is. I do recall there being some reference to veterans, so it followed after a war that most likely occurred before I was born. (So, anything before the Franco-Prussian War is fair game.) I must cop to buying it with a bit of a kitschy eye, but I actually got a lot of use out of it. Back when I was still making mix tapes, I would open with the begging of The Spirit of Zen and then pepper various spots between songs with random excerpts, as if I had made the mix on an old self-help tape and remnants of its message remained. This would be pretty difficult to do on a CD-R, once again proving that mix tapes were way cooler than mix CDs.



The straight-up winner of my discoveries is a Sesame Street collection called Grover Sings the Blues. I always liked Grover. He was always a little outside the gang, well-liked but not completely connected. Bert had Ernie, and Big Bird hung out in the same alley as Oscar the Grouch and always had Snuffle-upagus following close behind--but Grover usually went home alone. I had a full-size Grover puppet when I was a kid, purchased at a church rummage sale, making it sort of a tradition to find Grover items second-hand. He also had a pretty easy voice to imitate. I think that was the genius of Frank Oz: his characters were often the easiest for children to mimic. I doubt there has been a young Sesame Street fan who hasn't.

Therefore, even if Grover Sings the Blues wasn't a neat concept, it would have been a must-buy. There was something absolutely charming about the idea of this spindly, misfit puppet singing blues numbers.

No, Grover does not cover Robert Johnson or Howlin' Wolf on the LP. Let's not get too crazy here! Most of the songs are written by either Jefrrey Moss or Joe Raposo, and of the 14 tracks, all but 3 of them are standard Sesame Street numbers. You will learn the noises that different animals make and how the letter "G" has two different sounds depending on the word more than you're going to learn about Lightnin' Hopkins. Part of the gag of the title is that Grover is blue himself.

Then again, that makes it even better on the few tracks where the mood turns a bit more melancholy. This little creature isn't just singing in a blue mood, he embodies blue.

Side 1 only has one song of this kind, the opening song, "What Do I Do When I'm Alone?" Right here, we confirm that Grover is the solitary man I sensed. The song is no more complicated than its title suggests. Over an easy melody, Grover praises the joys of a singular life--singing to oneself, dancing, living in one's imagination. Like a classic jazz number, though, it has a turn. "Sometimes I feel a little sad," he sings, "because there's no one to share my song/ no one to fly with me." Ultimately, it's a love song to a friend, one that would not be out of place in the catalogue of a crooner like Sinatra. The track starts with Grover introducing himself to the listener, and it ends with Grover saying he is not alone, he is with us. So, it's not just a love song, but a covert exaltation of the relationship of music and its audience.

I realize that many reading this are going to find such high-handed explanations of a song sung by a puppet rather silly, but there is a simplicity about the affair that makes it absolutely endearing. Particularly if you put yourself in the mindset of its intended audience. Most adults I know are monophobes who can't even go to the movies by themselves. How wonderful that this song is teaching children to enjoy their own company!



Side 2 opens with the song that is most true to the concept: "I Am Blue."

"I am blue,
oh so blue,
Yes, I'm blue because I don't know enough about you.

I am blue,
really blue,
it is so
that I can show
how I care about you.

What of me?
All the times you've seen me on my own,
Could it be that you think I'm happy all alone?

I am blue,
oh so blue,
and I'll keep on being blue because what else can I do?
Yes, I'll keep on being blue until I'm closer to you.
"

Holy geez. Just typing that out made me start to cry. I am not kidding you. You have to hear this performance. Grover's voice cracks, he chokes on the words, he sighs. This is sad for anybody, not just little kids.

Again, it's the simplicity of it, the innocence of its intended audience. As sad as something like Harry Connick, Jr.'s rendition of "If I Only Had a Brain" or Low's cover of "You Are My Sunshine" can be, they'll never have the innate purity of this recording. Sure, it's a grown man putting on a voice and wearing a big pile of fur and plastic on his hand, but the abstraction of the approach has removed all pretension. Grover singing "I Am Blue" is just damn heartbreaking.

Sadly, Grover Sings the Blues is out of print, or I would rip it to mp3 and share it with you. It doesn't appear to be on any of the many Sesame Street compilations Amazon carries. In fact, the only Grover record is the much safer sounding A Celebration of Me, Grover. These are the days of Ritalin, and any kid with a hint of sadness can just pill-pop it away.

Appropriately, the album ends with an explanation of "Near and Far," the audio from one of the show's skits. It's not sad, and it's not even a song, and yet it captures the dichotomy of the character, a figure who is both within the gang and without, capable of being alone in a crowd, alienated at a party. The examples of near and far are in relation to where Grover is to you, the audio fading back and forth as he moves in physical space. For a record that invites the listener in and sings him a love ballad, it seems only fitting to end with a little bit of business about the closeness of human beings. It's as if by listening, we've assuaged some of this fictional creature's sadness, bringing him tighter into the circle. Or better yet, the makers of Sesame Street, by sharing the inner loneliness of one of their most beloved creations, have told children of all ages that it's okay to feel the same way.



#52 #51 #50 #49 #48 #47 #46 #45 #44 #43 #42

Reminder: As always, this post is full of links to Amazon. Click on any one of them when shopping, and Amazon will shave a few pennies off their take to give to me. So, if my reviews make you all hot and bothered and you just have to own one of the things I'm talking about, use my link and contribute to buying me more stuff to review. (Those reading a Live Journal feed will likely have to click to the actual blog page first before heading over to Amazon, though.) Either way, thanks for reading.

Current Soundtrack: Belle & Sebastian, The Life Pursuit & ...present 'Books'


Current Mood: dorky

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

ALTERNATING BETWEEN HEAVY & LIGHT

Some basic updating.

Current workload: Finishing second volume of a manwha not yet on the Tokyopop site, so I won't mention its name, and just completed a short story called "Ev'rybody Wants to Be a Cat." I also completed the first draft of this week's Permanent Records today.

Currently Reading: Benkei In New York, a gripping one-off crime manga by Jinpachi Mori and Jiroh Taniguchi. Benkei is a hyphenate, an art forger-vengeance fixer. He exacts his elaborate revenge schemes with a cold detachment. The art is clean and efficient, befitting the mood of the story.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera (courtesy of Joëlle). I am about 2/3 of the way through, and I am finding the whole experience terribly humbling. I look at what I do in my books and what Kundera is doing in this one, and I have to wonder why I ever boot up my computer. He is just too, too good. He does very interesting things with time, packing a large memory into a small moment of a present-tense scene, as well as creatng a wonderful interaction between the omnicscient narrator and the fabric of the text. If nothing else, go into a store and flip to section II, "Soul and Body," and read chapters 11-13. The parallel of his fiction to the fiction of Dostoevsky as being read by one of his characters is breathtaking, and the image of the lovers sleeping hand in hand, and why Tereza chooses to do so, is one of the most gorgeous things I've ever read. New favorite line of all time: "The crew of her soul rushed up to the deck of her body."

Current Soundtrack: random play on my iPod smart playlist The Never-Played Symphonies (comprised, somewhat obviously, of files not yet played): Sisters of Mercy, "Kiss the Carpet;" No Doubt, "Just a Girl/Running;" Travis, "Luv;" Mansun, "Cancer (Interlude);" Ike & Tina Turner, "I'll Never Need More Than This"

Current Mood: lost

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * My Corporate-Owned Space * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

DEAR GOD, PLEASE HELP ME

Waiting for a 9:00 a.m. conference call.

Yes. A.M.!

Curse you, Joe Nozemack.

Current Soundtrack: Morrissey live @ SXSW courtesy of the BBC

Current Mood: groggy

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * My Corporate-Owned Space * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

EVERY SONG I EVER WROTE WAS WRITTEN FOR YOU

PDF of the Oni in-house ad for Love the Way You Love

Also, I warranted a link from Spurgeon on Friday. Cool!

And is it just me, or more often than not, when other people point out what your problem allegedly is, it's something that, duh, you chose for yourself on purpose. So, to all of those in the world who know what my problem is, DUH!

Current Soundtrack: Belle & Sebastian, Live: If You're Feeling Sinister (Barbican, London, 9/05), "Dog On Wheels" EP

Current Mood: sarcastic

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * My Corporate-Owned Space * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

Friday, March 17, 2006

WE'VE GOT A GROOVY THING GOIN'

Christopher Allen over at Comic Book Galaxy was kind enough to ask me to fill in for him this week and write an installment of his "Breakdowns" column. Read his introduction HERE and then follow the link to the piece, which I hope strikes a nice balance, being both a stand-alone essay and good promotion for my comics.

Regardless, it was a lot of fun. Thanks, Chris!

Current Soundtrack: Simon & Garfunkel, Sounds of Silence

Current Mood: restless

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

PERMANENT RECORDS: I JUST WANT TO SEE THE BOY HAPPY

Permanent Records is a year-long project. Each Friday (or thereabouts), I will post a new entry about one specific album, chosen due to its significance to myself as a fan. Though the list is numbered, a particular record's placement should not be considered a ranking. There will be 52 albums in all.

This endeavor is based on a concept started by Chris Tamarri at Crisis/Boring Change. It has since been expanded as a concept, as Neal Shaffer takes on a study of album covers over at Leftwich.

42. MORRISSEY - RINGLEADER OF THE TORMENTORS (2006)
Personnel: Morrissey, vocals; Alain White, Boz Boorer, & Jesse Tobias, guitars; Gary Day, bass ; Mikey Farrell, keyboards; Matt Chamberlain, drums; Ennio Morricone, string arrangements "Dear God, Please Help Me"
Producer: Tony Visconti / Label: Attack/Sanctuary



This little project is a big challenge for me. One of the various reasons I left freelance music journalism several years ago was I didn't feel my writing was showing any inspiration. I had fallen into a rut no one was assisting me in getting out of, and if there is anything I've learned about creative endeavors, sometimes you have to know when the jig is up and leave. (Though, unfortunately, it ends up feeling like you've left the dance early without your lover, and you can only hope you're the one who broke up with her and she didn't actually leave you for another fella.) In planning out what album to do from week-to-week, I am considering a lot of factors, including how I might approach the next record differently than what has gone before. I don't want a personal reminiscence review, for instance, to follow another of the same kind, I want to space those out. Most of all, though, it's my desire to stretch my language, to redefine how I write about music, to push myself to express my thoughts in new ways. As I started Permanent Records, I made a mental note of some techniques I might try, most of which are still waiting in reserve.

One of them was to buy an album on its Tuesday release date, take it home, listen to it as much as I could, and have an entry up about it on Friday. So far, no opportunity had really presented itself, partially because, let's face it, most of us music nerds are hearing records before they are actually available to buy. Most records I purchase nowadays have already been on my iPod for weeks before they are on store shelves. So, when the newest Morrissey album, Ringleader of the Tormentors, leaked on the internet this week, I decided to let this be my opportunity.

(Before anyone gets up in arms, I am not a fan of piracy for the sake of piracy. I don't believe one should just download whatever one wants willy nilly; however, I do appreciate it as a sampling tool. I have no intention of ripping Morrissey off. I have already preordered the deluxe edition of Ringleader--which also gives me free access to an Amazon stream of the disc that I can listen to legally. I also had his last album, You Are The Quarry, far in advance of its release, and still ended up dropping over $60 on it, buying three separate copies: the first release with the bonus DVD, the vinyl, and the re-released "Platinum Edition." So, stay off my back. Similarly, don't even bother asking me for the mp3s.)

I'm going to go over the album track by track and give my impressions. It may be more scattershot than insightful, but we're going to do this full-tilt boogie and hope for the best. In part, the harried state of writing, as the music plays and I type in a vain hope of keeping up, will be an adrenaline match for the exhilaration the record inspires in me, because this is a truly amazing release. I would currently rank it in his discography just under the reigning champs, Your Arsenal and Vauxhall & I. I feel that Ringleader compares with those efforts in that it sees an expansion of the Morrissey approach, new lyrical concerns and a shift in the sonic production. Interestingly, the latter was kicked off in both cases by former collaborators of David Bowie--the previous period with the Spiders of Mars guitarist Mick Ronson, this time with Bowie-producer Tony Visconti. They also followed shifts in Mozzer's geography. Though he wasn't a full American transplant yet, his cry of "We look to Los Angeles for the language we use/ London is dead" on Arsenal's "Glamorous Glue" turned out to be prophetic since Morrissey moved into one of F. Scott Fitzgerald's old homes in the Hollywood Hills shortly after. He has said that some sort of compulsion drew him to Rome for the recording of Ringleader, and Italy permeates this disc, earning mentions in several songs. The collaboration with Italy's greatest modern composer, Ennio Morricone, is surely no coincidence. Morricone's best work is an excellent reference point for what we have here, as is the cover image of Moz playing violin: this is Morrissey's opera, his spaghetti western. It's big, it's crazy, it's loud, full of passion and furor. As good as Quarry was, this is better. That album now pales in comparison to its new sibling. Quarry was Margo Harrington, unexpectedly opening the door to this new sound, and Ringleader in the role of Eve Harrington has waltzed in and taken over.



The opera comparisons continue to hold water when the grand themes become evident. This album is about love and sex, religion and death, and ultimately, rebirth. References to these ideas will come up again and again to inform us that the Morrissey we knew before was merely a figment, a specter. He wasn't truly breathing, but drifting through life disengaged. "I entered nothing, and nothing entered me." He refers to himself as a ghost more than once on the record, as well as referring to his own death in terms both literal ("I Just Want to See the Boy Happy") and metaphorical ("You Have Killed Me"), only to emerge on the other side as something alive, fresh, and new. Ringleader of the Tormentors is a total artistic reinvention.

1. "I Will See You in Far Off Places": The first song on any album is important. If the artist is putting any thought into it, it's going to serve as a sort of manifesto, or an invitation into the world that will be found nestling inside the rest of the vinyl grooves. Morrissey has clearly thought this through, delivering two quick jabs, one musically and the other lyrically: a techno dirge and windy, Middle Eastern howling rising to the opening lines, "Nobody knows what human life is/ why we come, why we go/ so why then do I know/ I will see you/ I will see you in far off places." This lead-in encapsulates all of the themes of the album. It's the Mexican stand-off, who will go for their guns, who will go for a hug. It's about the connections between people, how they are made and how they are broken. It's about the smallness of individuality, and the greater forces that weigh on our lives. The Eastern sounds are intentional, as there are overtly political lyrics here: "If God bestows protection upon you / and if the U-S-A doesn't bomb you." Morrissey is reaching out across all social strata, pointing to the thing we all have in common: we will die, and when we have, we will have unity and peace. But is it a real death, or an existential death, something out of Albert Camus? Either way, the band is evoking an otherworldly sensation, whipping around us like a tornado and whisking us off--dare I make the pun? I shall!--to Moz. (iPod plays since Monday night: 6)

2. "Dear God Please Help Me": A melancholy stroll on a late night, down a maudlin street, a dialogue between Morrissey and his maker, as the urges of the body become too much, as the predators sniff out the desire. "Dear God, did this kind of thing happen to you?" The question is whether Morrissey is asking for strength to carry through with it, or to get out of it. Does he want those "explosive kegs between my legs" to go off? He hasn't had a song this sexual since "Stretch Out & Wait" back in the Smiths days, though the rebellion of one's body also brings to mind "Tomorrow." The instrumentation hangs back, providing the mood that follows him through the back alleys as if the music were a fog or a dark cloud that dogs a searching soul. Morricone's strings stay quiet, shuddering along with the steady rumble of the drumming until Morrissey declares his heart free, surrendering to the experience, and the crescendo builds, leaving us in the end with the string section all by its lonesome. The sunrise, perhaps? The post-coital guilt? Will there be a walk of shame in our future? (iPod plays: 5)



3. "You Have Killed Me": Nope, there will be a rave-up. The single. The pop 45 as pulp fiction. Built on a nice, chunky guitar riff, this is a song about being knocked off kilter by love. The melodic hook buzzes with the energy of a fresh crush, and the vocals vacillate between celebration and doubt. The central metaphor is that this love has devastated the narrator, taking over in the way these things can. He thought he was going to walk through life untouched by romantic connections, and now he's in for an emotional mugging, something that compels him more than it scares him. It's an assured single, encapsulating a specific sensation in its boundaries. Extra points for working in references to famous Italian motion picture directors Pier Paolo Pasolini (a controversial figure who sought to bust convention and expose hypocrisy with lurid narratives) and Luchino Visconti (a romantic whose best work examined the fading of ideals in meticulous detail). (iPod plays: 7)

4. "The Youngest Was the Most Loved": One can be forgiven for being wary upon hearing that Visconti was bringing in a children's choir for the record. "Youngest Was the Most Loved" is the first song they are employed on, and as soon as I heard them chanting, "There is no such thing in life as normal," all my fears subsided. It hearkens back to the glory days of Moz being joined on a television stage by a grade schooler for a rousing rendition of "Panic." Is it that the sentiment is so simple, even a child knows it? (iPod plays: 7)

5. "In the Future When All's Well": The revelations of love continue, as Morrissey ponders the good fortune that has come to him far later than he expected, after he'd given up hope. It's an upbeat number that casts a visionary eye to positive times ahead, making it all the more striking when it turns morbid at the end, declaring that we can all expect the "long, long sleep" in our future. Perhaps our writer has been devouring some hard-boiled novels? (iPod plays: 9)

6. "The Father Who Must Be Killed": Morrissey has been known to pick up the odd misfit cause in the past, such as wearing a hearing aid on "Top of the Pops" in solidarity with a fan who had hearing difficulties. This song is not about all dads, but stepdads--the mean kind--taking up the banner of the kids who have been unlucky enough to see their mother marry poorly. "Stepchild, I release you/ with this broken voice, I beseech you." The song's loping gait, with the return of the children's choir for the occasional chant, uses images of violent revenge, but its intent is to break the pattern of abuse, to give the kids in desperate situations some kind of positive idea that they can use to get out, go somewhere else, escape the cycle. If there is to be rebirth, then the ideal of youth must be protected (just as it is praised on "The Youngest Was the Most Loved"). The chorus is a fist-pumping glam line, stadium-ready. Its melody is so involving, it's easy to miss how pointed and grisly the lyrics are as you bop your head along with it. "The Father Who Must Be Killed" is gutsy agitpop. (iPod plays: 8)

7. "Life is a Pigsty": The pace slows down again. As on "Dear God..." there is almost a sense of wandering to the structure of the track. Morrissey has always liked his mellower tunes to play like longer narratives that unfold over open spaces rather than being stuck in a standard pop structure (think: "I Know It's Over," "Seasick, Yet Still Docked," etc.). In some ways, it's almost like a pessimistic "I Will Survive" caught up in a river of molasses, planting both feet on the ground, declaring that existence is shit, and then saying, "So, what?" Because You can shoot me or and you can throw me off a train/ I still maintain, I still maintain." In fact, once more we're treated to hints of some new and unexpected hook-up in the life of Il Mozalini. "I'm the same underneath," he sings at one point, only to later repeat "I've fallen in love again" over and over before letting the musicians roll off into their expected crescendo, the intermittent thunderstorm noises heard at different points across the track now completely inseparable from the sound of the band, the smashing cymbals sounding as if they are soaked in water. There is malice in the expression, too. My fists are clenched, you will listen. (iPod plays: 9)


"Damn, this review is taking forever..."

8. "I'll Never Be Anybody's Hero Now": This song definitely falls on the darker side of the album's themes, mired in the feeling that something has passed, that life has slipped through your grasp. Once more, we have a Moz who doesn't feel in touch with the world, declaring, "I am a ghost, and as far as I know, I haven't even died." He declares his "one true love" as "being underground," leaving him without a connection to what is going on around him. This could also be an indictment of our political climate, as it feels like right thinking is no longer valued and smart solutions to problems are mocked and ridiculed. References to the Haves hating the Have-Nots and other socially conscious proclamations bear this out. Morrissey's voice is plaintive, hitting high notes when declaring the title statement, eventually switching out "lover" for "hero," almost turning this into a torch ballad, letting the loose-necked piano tinkling lead the way. (iPod plays: 7)

9. "On the Streets I Ran": Another number with drive. For the faster paced tracks on Ringleader, the band seems to prefer pounding the guitar strings and drum kit in tandem more than the poppier melodies of yore, and it works. The extended intro to "On the Streets I Ran" provides an excellent aroma, tantalizing the senses for the "oooooh" that Morrissey rings in on. With references to class and to breaking out of small-minded communities, this could almost be a song written by some denim-clad band from New Jersey. (Either that, or I could hear this covered by the Tears.) It's the American rock fantasy, getting out of working-class drudgery by "turning sickness into popular song." The desperation is palpable by song's end, singer and band in sync on their way to a frenzy, building to a head and cutting out. (iPod plays: 7)

10. "To Me You Are A Work of Art": And here is where sequencing is so important. "On the Streets I Ran" ends abruptly, the only fade being the instruments settling, and just as they are about done, Visconti hits us with the opening whale cries of "To Me You Are A Work of Art," moving effortlessly from one to the other and taking the listener with him. There is a grandiosity to this love ballad that has me imagining Neil Diamond covering it one day. There is even a hint of gravel in how the Mozfather delivers the verses. Phrases like "I live the life/ I feel the pain/ to sing the song/ to tell the tale...I see the world/ It makes me puke/ but then I look at you/ and know that somewhere there's a someone who can soothe me" and the soaring titular refrain in the chorus, the insistence of the verses giving over to the sweeping grandeur of a heavy orchestration, could give Neil a run from his cheeseball money. Except the reason the Neil Diamond formula works is that Neil knows that matters of the heart are invariably cheesy, invariably over the top, we don't go halfway with how we feel. Human drama is inextricable from human comedy, and as long as you sing it like you mean it--and Morrissey does--it can't be torn down. (iPod plays: 9)

11. "I Just Want to See the Boy Happy": Another hard charger, perhaps the hardest, reminding me some of the Quarry b-sides like "Don't Make Fun of Daddy's Voice" and "It's Hard to Walk Tall When You're Small" with their clipped duration and forward momentum. This song would make an excellent second single. It's both comic and tragic, with the wobble in Morrissey's voice when he is declaring that he will soon be dead indicating he understands the melodrama of such a statement (again, tragedy bound with comedy), while the forcefulness of the instrumentation is only possible when one is completely sincere. (The chaotic trumpet at the end is brilliant.) The great poetic twist here, though, is that the thing he'd like to see in order to cheer up the unknown boy--himself, probably, since he is singing from his ailing father's bedside, living Hemingway's famous assertion that all writers are searching for dear old papa--is the bloom of first love. Death and romance, the Ringleader mainstays. How fitting that at the end of life we dream of the most fundamental joy from the start of it. Which all leads to... (iPod plays: 10)

12. "At Last I Am Born": Just like the first song, "I Will See You in Far Off Places," the finale of Ringleader of the Tormentors announces itself in a grand fashion, with savage bows raked across stringed instruments. It would be perfect movie music for when the heroes crest the hill, ready to descend on the army that vastly outnumbers them, boldly diving head-first into a lost cause. There is even a breakdown in the pre-chorus that has a slow, rockabilly twang and snapping fingers/castanets. In those moments, Morrissey digs through his past, invoking the image of himself as a former "difficult child" and "spectral hand" (once again, an image of being unable to touch the corporeal world), but every time we come out of it, it's into a defiant cry of new life: "I once thought that I had numerous reasons to cry/ and I did but I don't anymore." As closing numbers go, you can't ask for more than this. Our man has learned lessons, he is newly invigorated. His mortality no longer frightens him ("I once thought that time/ accentuates despair/ but now I don't actually care"), neither do his foibles (""I once was a mess/ of guilt because of the flesh"). The cause can be as lost as it wants to be, because he is not. We don't need to know how it turns out any more than we needed confirmation whether Butch and Sundance survived. Morrissey's job was getting us here. The rest is up to us to use as we can. (iPod plays: 11)

And who ever thought that this was how we'd be summing up a Morrissey record after all these years? No more doubt, no more fear of physical romance or emotional connection, and we've even stood up to the Grim Reaper and won. I had always felt that the problem with Morrissey's albums after Vauxhall and I was that he was still trying to write about what it was like to be fifteen, clumsy, and shy, and that he no longer had anything to say about it. Even worse, I had no need to hear it. I wanted him to grow up with me. I wanted his perspective on the years past 25, past 30. Here he is, approaching his 47th birthday, and goddamn if he didn't deliver.



Summed up in one line, Ringleader of the Tormentors is a musical portrait of a man tearing himself down in preparation for resurrection, forgetting his perceptions of his own humanity so that he can experience life anew. It's completely unexpected and completely brilliant. The cover image is not at all ironic. You will be listening to a virtuoso, a warbling diva, play his instrument unlike ever before.

Yes, Stephen, at last you are born.

#52 #51 #50 #49 #48 #47 #46 #45 #44 #43



Reminder: As always, this post is full of links to Amazon. Click on any one of them when shopping, and Amazon will shave a few pennies off their take to give to me. So, if my reviews make you all hot and bothered and you just have to own one of the things I'm talking about, use my link and contribute to buying me more stuff to review. (Those reading a Live Journal feed will likely have to click to the actual blog page first before heading over to Amazon, though.) Either way, thanks for reading.

Current Soundtrack: the album in question

Current Mood: satisfied

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

AND I'M IN LOVE WITH ILLUSION, SO SAW ME IN HALF

I've listened to Rabbit Fur Coat by Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins quite a few times, so I don't know why I hadn't noticed the song "You Are What You Love" before. I even had to get up and go check what the song title was. Amusingly, it's named for the lines that grabbed my attention: "You are what you love, and not what loves you back."

And that line makes me think of Love the Way You Love and the link I forgot to post to an image from the book Marc shared this week.

I have been amused by a couple of things lately. One is that when I was talking to Chynna yesterday, I told her I had opted out of reading The Everlasting again before giving it to the copyeditor. I just couldn't bring myself to do it, this is the most tedious stage of the process and I could tinker with it forever if you let me. "Well, didn't you always tell me there is a point where you just have to let the work go," she says to me. Damn, my own advice given back to me. At least now I know she really was listening!

The other is a joke someone told me that keeps cracking me up.
Q: How come hipsters are never good at karate?
A: They always refuse to give up their white belt.

Haw! Hipster doofuses!

Current Soundtrack: Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins, Rabbit Fur Coat


Current Mood: naughty

golightly@confessions123.com * The Website * Live Journal Syndication * The Blog Roll

[to leave comments, click on the time-stamp below, then scroll down on the new page] – All text (c) 2006 Jamie S. Rich