The Auditory Pizza: A Musing on Music

If you think of the human lifespan, or even just thought, as a chain of experiences, it seems like modern society is bent on breaking this chain into smaller and smaller isolated links. Everything is so fragmented. It's hard to lose yourself in the world of a good TV show when, every 5 minutes, a commercial reminds you that if you drive a Toyota Corolla, crowds of people in color-coordinated suits will dance to terrible electro-pop wherever you go (sometimes you just have to marvel at the sheer ridiculousness of everyday things). Even as I write, I feel like my attention span has been pulled into tiny pieces, tumbling off in all different directions. There's always something keeping my eyes from the screen, my thoughts from the words, and my hands from the keyboard.  

Sorry for the terrible image quality. I still can't use my scanner, so this is an iPod photo. Thanks Obama.

Sometimes I think this fragmented culture keeps us from fully appreciating musical albums as complete works. I love iTunes when I want to download a couple hit songs from an album that doesn't interest me otherwise. For instance, I'm not a big Macklemore fan, but you bet I was whistling "Thrift Shop" when I found that dapper velvet vest for 3 bucks on the second hand rack. However, I wonder if this form of buying music discourages people from listening to entire albums from beginning to end, as they're often meant to be enjoyed.

I thought about this while driving home from work one night. I listened to the entire Demon Days album by Gorillaz, and it had been a long time since I'd listened to the whole thing in one go. Most of the time, the individual songs just pop up here and there while my iPod is in shuffle mode, kinda like random memories that flash in your mind when you least expect them (like when you have a glass of milk and remember the time you ate a blade of grass when you were seven because you wanted to see what it felt like to be a cow). Anyway, after I got home, I felt like I'd experienced each song on Demon Days in a different way from before, as parts of a complete work of art, and the effect was beautiful and eye-opening. It was like eating the whole pizza, instead of just an olive or a bacon bit. It makes you think about why the tracks were arranged the way they were, and allows you to appreciate the way one song blends into another. Plus, it helped that it was a Demon Days kind of night: the air was cool, and the black sky was overcast, but the clouds were just thin enough so that you could barely see the moon's ghostly figure.

Another thing I realized that night is the importance of listening to an album through a real stereo system rather than earbuds. It's another example of experiences getting smaller and more isolated. Listening through tiny headphones is nothing compared to hearing a song spill into the atmosphere from a good set of speakers. This way, it doesn't just go into your ears; it fills the space around you.

ONE MORE THING (in the words of Uncle): as great as the iTunes preview feature is, it also takes away some of the suspense and excitement of buying and album you've never heard at all before. The other day, I was at Barnes and Noble, and I came across a CD of Nina Simone love songs. I was already somewhat familiar with Nina Simone (who doesn't love I Put a Spell on You?), but I'd never heard any of these covers before. I knew it had to be at least a pretty good album, but I still felt the excitement of taking a leap of faith and buying an album I'd hadn't previewed (maybe "pre-listened" is a better term). Fortunately, it turned out to be incredible--the actual title is Nina Simone for Lovers if you wanna pick it up yourself. It's also more of an event, buying a CD or record. You make a special trip to the record store or mailbox with a pleasant anticipation, rather than the instant gratification of downloading something.

I'm gonna wrap this post up and drag up the energy to write some more things, but I recommend going out and getting an album that looks good, but that you've never heard before. It can be pretty fun.      

Google Poetics: Japanese Style

The little blobs of weirdness scattered about the Internet amaze me. The other day, I was looking for a certain online magazine, but accidentally typed in the wrong URL. Instead, I wound up on a Japanese web page that appeared to be an advertisement for some sort of hair removal treatment. I figured this out after using Google Translate on the whole page, which produced something that read sometimes like a lost Yoko Ono song, others like the time your random freshman year roommate came home from a party to which you weren't invited and, while still in a Jagerbomb haze, decided it would be a smashing time to try his hand at erotic slam poetry before vomiting on your carpet. The following is a compilation of some of the most oddly poetic and downright strange lines of this translation:


The sea is only reputation and surprise answer to wealth.
Generation of summer delivery.
Assent to heat and diet.
Only fashionable circle and eye line
even in the human and the world
The whitening of wear and judgment of the famous weapon
Inevitability!
think the athletic manly whitening cream
a pack of pants just published
mono awkward scheduled safety.
The obsession in permanent razor from the battery in the bikini
Even idol carefully selected.
popular restaurant in pain
how about a diet oxygen from pubic hair
athletic manly yen cream white beauty I care.

Ladies, get your man what he really wants for Christmas this year: athletic manly yen cream. And while you're at it, treat yourself to a battery-powered bikini (not for use in water).

Life Outside the School Calendar

Humans are unique animals in many ways. We buy blue things for boys and pink things for girls.We stare at boxes shooting light at us (my dog still doesn't understand this. Why would we watch TV when we could be playing with him?). We text (one of the perks of opposable thumbs). We also go to school. In fact, we let school mess with the innermost gears of our mental clocks. Anyone who's experienced June elation or September blues can attest to this. Summer always begins somewhere around June 20th, but as soon as that last school bell rings, guess what? It's summer. Insisting that it's not might earn you a playground beating. Also, what about that beautiful period from mid-August to mid-September, when the air is crisp but not chilly? Never mind the fact that everything is still pretty green and your neighborhood pool is still open. It's fall, which means homework and schedules and people telling you how to spend your time again. Just hearing those things probably makes your soul ache.

One of the most interesting things I've faced since graduating college is learning how to "live with the seasons" again. For a lot of people, fall began August 25th, but for me, it began September 22nd at 4:44 p.m. with the equinox. My whole outlook on seasonal changes has pretty much gone from this:

You know it's fall when:

• Stores run back-to-school commercials with creepily stylish/excited children.
• You wonder if you can get one more year out of your beat-up notebook with The Who logo on it. 
• Your procrastination on that summer reading list catches up with you. Now you have to go on a 3-day Puritan binge with The Crucible and The Scarlet Letter.
• You feel guilty for not finishing your summer bucket list. Reading Anna Karenina and building the Taj Mahal out of index cards will have to wait until next summer. 

To this:

You know it's fall when:

• Not having air conditioning doesn't make you felonious anymore.
• Breathing feels like taking a cool drink (for an idea of North Carolina summers, imagine a hot, wet towel being thrown at your face every time you walk outside).
• You don't have to give your dog medicated heat rash baths anymore (I'll miss having him smell like oatmeal conditioner though).
• The moon is brighter.
• You smell the pumpkin cookies you bought and the smoke from other people's fires as you drive home from the store.
• Halloween Oreos (this is by far my favorite).

However, it still pains me a little to see summer go, even though it makes no difference in my work schedule whatsoever. I know people who graduated years ago and still get sad when late August roles around. For as much educating as it claims to do, school really screws with your psyche as well. Let's not let it ruin this lovely time of year completely.

The Human Beings Movement

It might be for the best that this post is so late, because there probably isn't a better time to publish it. Yesterday marked the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr,'s "I Have a Dream" speech during the 1963 March on Washington (the full text is available here. Everyone should read those beautiful words, especially now). In some ways, this post relates to Dr. King's message of equality.

I really don't need to say this, but: there's a lot of awful stuff in the world right now, and a lot of it is humanity's own fault. Violence, hatred, oppression, denial; these are not forces of nature. They don't have to exist, though sadly, they may never completely disappear. However, there is a very simple way to ease the pain we often inflict on each other: just treat each other like human beings.

That's all there is to it. Just recognize that other people are people too. Acknowledge their humanity. I think that's really the sentiment at the heart of the "golden rule," do unto others as you would have them do unto you (a variation of which is found in many religious texts). Throughout history, tyrannical powers have tried to justify their oppression by pretending that those they oppress aren't people, that they're subhuman. It's happened in our own country, through slavery and discrimination. Racism is one example, but there are others, some involving gender. For instance, some people believe it's okay to treat women a certain way because they're "women," as if that somehow means "not a person." Instead, if you're not sure how to act toward a lady, just ask yourself: would I want to be whistled at every time I walked down a street? Would I want to be harassed or assaulted? If no, then don't do that. If yes, well...you should get that looked at.

I know this seems like a pretty elementary lesson in decency, but I think most of us can agree that we all need a refresher course on the golden rule (myself included). There's also another step in acknowledging someone's person-hood: recognize their complexity. Everyone's complicated, so much that it's impossible to lump people into broad, two-dimensional categories without robbing them of some of their humanity. You can't assume that one person in a certain group has exactly the same preferences and experiences as another member of the group, or else you turn them into a concept rather than a human. Not all home-schooled kids have fundamentalist parents. "Born This Way" is not every gay person's favorite song. And not all people who eat quinoa are smug hipsters (though I have to admit, the word "quinoa" sounds pretty smug. Say it a few times like a smart-alec little kid and you'll see what I mean). 

Again, I think most people reading this understand these points, but it never hurts to remind ourselves of the most basic form of being nice (I definitely need that sometimes). I've been having scanner problems this week, so I don't have a cartoon, but I'll leave you with a quote from a cartoon character. Plankton once told Spongebob, "Only aggressive people conquer the world!" Then Spongebob posed the question, "What about aggressively nice people?" Also, here's another cute picture of my dog:

He took my spot.

          

A Nation of Doers, Part 2: Doers in Action

Hello Internet friends,

Last week I hopped on my virtual soapbox and preached about how we should get off our butts and do something about our problems and those of the world around us. This week, I'm getting on that soapbox again to showcase some people who, through their actions, definitely fit this blog's definition of "doer."

Our first doer of the week is Moses Mathis, a man from Fayetteville, North Carolina affectionately known as the "Bicycle Man." Sadly, he passed away July 15th, but the local news station did a moving story on the celebration of his life: http://www.wncn.com/story/22905049/life-of-fayettevilles-bicycle-man-celebrated-at-funeral . Mathis was known for repairing bicycles and giving them to children in need at Christmas. For free. And we're not talking just a few kids either (though that in itself would be heartwarming). Thanks to his program, over 26,000 kids have gotten bikes. Twenty-six thousand. According to the news story, he also organized a community watch and youth outreach programs.

The best part of the story, though, involves the words of Rev. Frederick Hendley during the eulogy at Mathis' life celebration: "...when it's all said and done, for many people there's more said than done, but Moses Mathis had done a lot of good work." I can't think of a better way to have your life remembered.

Okay, so this second "doer profile" is pretty much shameless promotion of a friend's work, but I don't care cuz I do what I want *shakes fist*! Our second doer of the week is one of my Wilmington pals, Chris Vickery: writer, composer, filmmaker, real-life Guitar Hero.

Some people say Chris is nuts. Well, he is, but in the best possible way. When Chris wants to do something, he just does it, no matter how crazy or insurmountable it seems. Wants to make cartoons: teaches self to animate. Wants to write screenplays: plows through five thick screenwriting books and writes a feature-length script in one summer. One day, after spending hours on one page of a story I was writing, I chatted with Chris, and he was all like, "yeah, I just wrote a children's book, and now I'm illustrating it."

He really does own a kilt.

So obviously, I wasn't surprised when Chris called me a few weeks ago and said "hey, I'm home for the weekend, so Imma record me an album" (he talks way more sophisticated in real life). Here is that album, a psychedelic rock 'n roll sound sundae titled "Three Days," entirely produced by Chris Vickery in, you guessed it, three days: https://soundcloud.com/chris-vickery/sets/three-days . Treat yourself to a listen, and if you know of any friends, radio stations, reviewers, or magazines who might enjoy it, send it along to them as well. For more of Chris's music (including a downloadable version of Three Days), visit http://chrisvickerymusic.bandcamp.com/ .

It even has artwork!

 So ends another weekly ramble-fest. The moral of it all: go forth, and do awesomeness in the world.


 

A Nation of Doers

They say to never start anything on the Internet with an apology, but I'm gonna do it anyway because fight the power. Life's been hard these past few weeks. I have a fast-approaching deadline for a writing competition, and I've been scouring every crevice between the couch cushions of the Internet for a job that could actually help pay off my school debt. And yesterday, while chewing a piece of meat, my sideways wisdom tooth (yes, sideways) made me feel like Bruce Willis kicked me in the mouth (to which Harris Teeter says NEIN! No dental insurance for you!). So, long story short, sorry for not posting more lately.

This was going to be my big 4th of July "what-does-it-mean-to-be-American" post, but I'll give it to you now. Sadly, this has become a common perception of Americans in general:

Couch potatoes.

But if you define "American" in terms of what this country was built on, the opposite is true. Being American means cleaning deli counters and stepping on rotten meat and cheese because you have a dream, and that dream needs money. It means that when you don't like the way things are, you DO something about it, no matter how painful. Our nation's founders were tired of getting kicked around, so they started a revolution. And for those of us with immigrant ancestors, we know that when they realized America was the place for them, they didn't just sit at home, watch Netflix, and make sarcastic comments about how their home country sucked and they should totally move someday. Instead, they came to America and started over. Simply put, America has been a nation of "doers" in the past, and now we need to step up and keep it that way. If you want something, go for it. If you see a problem, help fix it. As Gandhi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world" (and no, it's not enough to wear that quote on a t-shirt).

I overheard an elderly woman at my neighborhood pool last week, talking to the college-age pool attendant. Basically, she said she believed her (the girl's) generation had the tenacity and resourcefulness to make the world a better place. To my fellow twenty-somethings: let's prove her right.        

Throwback: How to Become a Monster

I don't usually hang onto old things. In fact, I get kind of a buzz from deleting things or throwing them away. When I go through my closet and bag up old clothes for Goodwill, I have to make sure I tie the bags shut immediately, or else my mom will go through them and put clothes back in my closet when I'm not around (she says I get rid of things prematurely, and sometimes she's right. Now I only have one pair of Wal-Mart khakis to spill turkey juice on at work).

Anyway, despite my tendency to throw things away, I saved one post from my old blog before I deleted the whole thing. I've re-posted it below, an illustration of what can happen when you try to give everyone your time at once. Also, speaking of throwbacks (and monsters), here's a notebook doodle from 12th grade:

We were talking about Watergate in AP US History, so I tried to draw Richard Nixon.
Then I drew a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Anyway, here's my post from last fall, "How to Become a Monster":

The secret is to spread yourself thin. Really thin. Like the last blob of peanut butter, scraped from the sides of the jar and spread on the last crust of bread in your kitchen because grocery shopping, despite man's considerable need for food, is not a high priority in your weekly schedule. This will remove the buffer of tolerance, patience, and empathy between you and your fellow humans, because these things will be sprinkled over so many commitments that when the day comes where someone pushes just one of your buttons, you will react like a kicked rattlesnake. Even when a friend tiptoes into your dark, smoky dragon-cave, and innocently asks for that last spare minute you keep tucked in the coil of your scaly tail, you will expectorate fire at their face and burn any bridges of kindness or mutual understanding between your two souls. If you've achieved these results, congratulations. You've become a monster. If you're unhappy with this transformation, good luck. You could try sticking a knife in the peanut butter jar of your heart, scraping out any bits of tolerance, patience, or empathy still stuck to its walls, and using it to glue Popsicle sticks together for a replacement bridge between you and the person whose face you just incinerated (hopefully they've a jar or two of forgiveness in the cupboard of their soul). But it’s so much easier being a monster.