Primary & Peripheral...

Reading Roberto Bolano's "Savage Detectives" (1998) English translation (2007)* one of those essential, life-changing experiences. It is oddly true, what we read can alter our consciousness, expand it, deepen it, change it profoundly. That is amazing. Words on a page can be a life-changer. The power of story-telling. The magic of language to conjure up images, evoke feelings, trigger thoughts, open doors to another way of seeing, feeling, being. Can reading, totally, madly & deeply, giving oneself up  to an exquisitely told narrative make us better or at least more human human beings? I do believe so. The best works can alter us fundamentally. Heady stuff. 

This one is fascinating. 54 different narrators. There are peripheral characters, and primary characters, and the peripheral characters sometimes turn out to be primary, and the primary ones turn out to be peripheral. It's a mirror of our own lives.

In the pages you will find mystery, poetry, dirt, sex, violence, beauty, love, hate, the great cloud of unknowing. Like I said, a very overwhelming & profound experience. Life-affirming. Life-enhancing. Life-changing. Really.

Hat-tip to Patti Smiths' "M Train" - a mind train that goes to any station it wants.

Swirling Dichotomies...

Went to see the Frida Kahlo Exhibit: "Timeless" at the College of DuPage over the weekend. I realized I knew very little about Frida Kahlo. Iconic Woman. Iconic Mexican Artist. A striking-looking woman. A strong, beautiful, vibrant and fiercely intelligent woman. Someone who made art while living a life  battling physical challenges, illnesses, and devastating injuries. 

Her paintings are overwhelmingly powerful. Especially her self-portraits:

The other thing. 

Her personal history is a microcosm of the 20th Century. She had a stormy, on-again, off-again, on-again relationship with the 20 year older Diego Rivera, famed and world-renowned muralist. The powerhouse couple was dubbed "The Dove and the Elephant."

Frida & Diego, a universe of swirling dichotomies embodying the 20th Century and resonating today:

Art vs. Commerce

Male vs. Female

Beauty vs the Not Beautiful

Communism vs. Capitalism

Poverty vs. Wealth

Old vs. Young

Healthy vs Illness

Photography vs Painting

Revolution vs. Reaction

Power vs. Vulnerability

Love vs. Hate

Loyalty vs. Betrayal

Marriage vs. Divorce

An amazing story and exhibition.

Germs & Bad Ideas...

Germs & Bad ideas. 

Very similar. You can't see them, but they can invade you, make you sick, make you do weird things, and do damage to your body, head and spirit.

That was on my mind matriculating thru a long Sunday journey yesterday. We were exposed to lots and lots folks, some masked, many not; you assume everyone has been vaxxed, but, you know, the reality is that many have not been, and have no intention of doing the right thing.

And those Germs and Bad Ideas are fellow travelers. The incredibly overweight dude smoking a cigarette, eating a greasy, over-stuffed hamburger, refuses to sully his body with a vaccine. Worried about "impurities," and side effects, don't you know?

It is sort of funny. In a not funny way.

So, there were times when it was best to just keep my mouth shut, sit back, relax and watch the Human Show: Germs & Bad Ideas.

Life is Not a Biz...

The thing is, Life is not a business. If you are thinking it needs to "pay-off" you are mistaken. Yes, we live in the Belly of the Capitalistic Beast, and in that unforgiving system, everyone needs dollars and cents to keep going, but the "do-re-mi" is not the song of our lives. Nope. Life is a mystery, and something we experience, it is open-ended, and a bit arbitrary. It's a gift (a gift that can be snatched away any time),  that just is.

A Weak Back, About A Week Back...

I "threw out my back," last Saturday. What a strange phrase, I mean, strange, but true and super-descriptive, it really did feel like I threw my back away. I tweaked it, one little, seemingly inconsequential, false move, and it seemed like my whole back just totally went out of whack, a landslide of strained nerves and muscles.

My friend is a Guru of pain and remedies, so she coached me along. We shared CDB creams, we tried a series of stretches, she told me, "Don't shy away from the pain, go to it." And also, "Keep moving." At first that seemed insane. I was like a mannequin, carrying myself in a very careful and delicate manner. Standing & walking was fine, it was the sitting and getting back up that was a challenge.

I did go to the pain. I did keep moving. A week later and my back is fine. Maybe a slight hangover, my body remembers where the pain and strain and the stiffness was, but it's no longer there. I never asked for the opioids. I didn't majorly medicate. Except for the CDB cream which I highly, highly recommend, & a couple of ibprofens which I took sort of guiltily, I am pretty much anti-pill, if I can help it, but, you know, whatever works with the least side-effects, seems smart. Anyway, the combo helped loosen the muscles and totally mellowed me out too.

This morning, I am  back to just medicating myself with coffee. Fire up my body and spirit. I had a weak back, about a week back.

A Blast of Pure Creation...

My instrumental, ambient, solo, mini-Moog project Faux Fu on Bandcamp.

I wrote extensively about my "adventures" in the music biz here: "True Adventures of Faux Fu." To sum up, it was a wild ride: lots of talk, a 30 page contract, a $500 per hour lawyer, a little bit of cash, grand plans, and big dreams. It all appeared like a little cloud of fairy dust that powdered me like a newly-baked donut, and then, suddenly, it all vanished in the same astonishing manner.

So my career as an ambient music-maker is now a familiar one of total artistic freedom, and complete independence. I walked away with some $ and a substantial catalog of tracks. I can do whatever I want, whenever the mood strikes. It's just the finest, most pure artistic expression I can imagine. 

Yesterday I released a new EP: "Where I am... You May Be..."  It is super-meditative, contemplative, & pretty chill.  Food for the spirit and the soul. No doubt, these tracks reflect my long-time meditation practice.

What I love about this project, it is just pure music. Music made in the moment, a spontaneous lark, a goof, an experiment. No expectations. Just following the vibe. Getting familiar with a new instrument. "Beginner's Mind." Discovering what a mini-Moog can do, where it can go. Plus there is the discipline of no drums, no beats, no clix, and, to date, no other instruments (actually one track is mini-Moog and "occasional" guitar).  

I am totally knocked out by the reception so far. Folks are really connecting with this music, which, to be frank, is a total surprise. A nice, welcome, gratifying surprise.

Sometimes, the right thing is to just dream something up and run with it.  Really. I recommend it.

Overload...

Brain overload?!

Yes. Of course. No doubt. I mean, WTF?

A Process...

Yes. Think of yourself as a process (see previous post): "a series of actions."

Think of yourself as a series of  actions that you do/take, over the course of a life. We are always in process, processing. Living is a verb.

Always Be Flowing...

Movement.

Keep moving. It makes sense. Everything else we encounter is basically a "process:" nature, time, biology, psychology. So, in order to be in tune with the environment in which we live, we should always be flowing, moving, changing. We must be fluid, (mind, body, soul), at all times.

A stagnant pool is dead energy. A rigid mind is a boulder. Our bodies need to be flexible & limber. Stillness when we meditate, but when we meditate, the ENERGY IS ALWAYS FLOWING!

Stormy...

A big storm blew thru last night. Minimal damage across the Heartland. We are fine. Lightening flashing, clouds thumping, sirens screaming. I put the pillow over my head. My companion was scared out of her wits. She was watching with bated breath her little glowing oblong device, the "storm-tracker" on her iPhone. A big blob of colors, green, yellow and red, devouring everything in its path. She kept asking me in a suddenly "childish," and very shaky voice: "Should we go to the basement?" I kept replying, sleepily, dreamily: "No, I don't think we should go to the basement." We didn't go to the basement. So, you know, it  was not a restful sleep. The storm passed. Nothing damaged. We are both a bit, ragged, and sleepy this a.m. Sunny and calm. Monday.

One False Move...

One false move. That's all it takes. Can change a day, a life. It's weird to think about it like that, but it is true. Makes our days and lives seem a bit uncertain, arbitrary, and up for chaos at any moment. Oh yeah, that is how it goes. 

Refraining...

Just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

That seems a bit radical in this do it all, do anything, I mean everything, in this 24/7 do it all the time world.

What a of a bit of discretion & discipline?

You know

you can...

 

think it

imagine it

dream it

verbalize it (in your head)

but not really, really do it.  It's okay. Sometimes the not doing it, the "refraining," the "preferring not to,"  is the correct choice.

The Shepherd, Cured by His Flock...

Some days, I am Lonesome Traveler. It is just me, and my furry friends traversing the neighborhood, the byways and paths of our little Progressive Blue Bubble.  I like it like that. Lonesome, but not really lonely. Plenty of space in my head for thinking, planning and dreaming.

Yesterday, it wasn't like that at all. My head was in a vise. It was like Sam Shepard's "The Unseen Hand," a big hand pressing down on my head, like the hand of God or some Alien Being. So there was a constant pressure, not exactly pain, but a pressure that kind of demanded my attention.  Every step had a little more weight and gravity. Not sure if maybe it was the barometric pressure, or some other cosmic energy making itself felt in my being.

And funny, I was suddenly a magnet. I was magnetized. I was suddenly a "strange attractor." Folks came to me out on the path like I was some kind of Preacher or Prophet, or Wise Man who needed to be consulted. One after another. A stream of folks. Some I knew, some I didn't. Suddenly everyone saw me, knew me, wanted to reacquaint,  or wanted to be my new, best friend.

I was suddenly visible and immensely, uncommonly popular. The man of the moment. It was a bit disconcerting. But with all of that human activity around me, with folks confiding in me, seeking advice, chattering, and kibitzing around me, the Unseen Hand magically lifted.

I found a new clarity and freedom. The Shepherd, miraculously cured by his flock!

Doing It...

A conversation yesterday...

My Companion: I know you hate to do it. 

Me: I don't hate to do anything anymore, I just do it.

My Companion: Really? Is this a new thing?

Me: Yes. It is.

Riffs On Demand!

Notes from yesterday's late afternoon song-writing session on the lakefront with with my band-mate. 

Let's call it "Riffs on Demand!" Sometimes, I am put on the spot, and must come up with something new in the moment. Not easy, not hard.  I mean, it's best not to think about it,  and to just let my fingers explore the fret-board of my guitar.

What are the elements for a successful session?

A blanket, two ginger-beers, lots of sunshine, a sweet summer breeze, swaying trees, the sounds of crashing waves.

Sir Paul McCartney takes a "sad song and makes it better." He of course is a master. Our band whitewolfsonicprincess takes a sad song and makes it "livelier." When a stranger running on the path shouts: "Beautiful," it makes us think we might be on the right track!

The Genie in a Bottle...

Relationships. How do they work? Why do they work, when the work? Why don't they work, when they don't work? Why does it go from working to not working, or vice versa?

Beats me. 

I have a few long-term relationships: Significant Other, Family, Friends.

Sometimes everything is wonderful, copacetic. Then again, sometimes things can go to hell in an instant. A blip, a wink of an eye, one false move or one hanging participle.

How about the Male/Female thing? The Yin/Yang Dichotomy?  

I think of Jerry Seinfeld's advice about marrige: Always Agree. No matter what. Jerry is sort of Zen about it. Maybe a Zen Master.

How does it work at home?  Here is an example from today's morning conversation in the kitchen (with coffee).

My Companion: Why did you do it?

Me: Your Wish is my Command.

Weed-Pulling Mission...

A bit of prompting from a beautiful soul, and dear relative, led me to a wonderful summer Sunday. I found myself in a rental car, heading West to my Mother's house, with my long-time partner and companion.

We were on a weed-pulling mission. We listened to the radio on the drive there, no CD player, so that meant WRXT on the box in the car. We are long-time listeners to XRT. It was a great r&r station for many years, then management changes made it pretty much unlistenable for a decade or so. But there has been a renaissance, great DJ's, limited annoying commercials, and an excellent varied playlist with many of the classics, lots of Tom Petty, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Kinks, Springsteen, Beatles, Patti Smith, The Strokes, The Grateful Dead, sprinkled with some new music too. Good play loudly & roll-down-the-windows-tunes.

When we got to the house there it was pizza party first! Get the reward before the work? OK. That's a bit extravagant, and luxurious, but it made sense and was totally delicious.

We had a loud and annoying (to everyone, even me) discussion of politics and the fucking damn FILIBUSTER! I am against it, and I made my opinion on the topic loud and clear. Yikes. Even I was annoyed with the  sound and tone of my overbearing voice. But I feel strongly on the topic. The bottom line? The Democrats must kill the filibuster, and they must pass every FUCKING bill they can pass. NOW. No time to waste. The planet is burning, the people are surly and armed, and well, Joe MUST FIX EVERYTHING NOW, or we are LOST!

Then it was on to the weed-pulling. A beautiful garden in the front yard, over-run with spiky weeds. My partner and I donned gloves and plunged into the greenery. The sun was blazing. We sweated like little stuck pigs, but it was fabulous and it felt amazingly satisfying to fill a large container full of pulled from the roots weeds. The garden looked renewed & amazing afterwards. Tending your garden. Soul-work!

We finished the afternoon with a little hootenanny. A guitar, a harmonica, and three voices. It was fun, low-key, rambling and quite enjoyable.  Then we said our goodbyes and it was the long-ride home. More XRT. More classic r&r. We finally got home. Exhausted. Satisfied. A good day. Well done all around. We slept like little babies. And dreamed of flowers and guitars.

The Good Work to Get There...

Shooting for Joy, Transcendence, Diamond-Hard Clarity, Beauty, Grace, Good Vibes. I mean, I think it's the "Good Work" to get there. It's the reason to live. And, of course, you must prepare yourself every day to get there. It takes discipline, and a bit of courage, and toughness. And you have to tune out the shit, the noise, the nay-sayers, the vibe-killers, the assholes. And you must not be afraid to conjure up dreams, lots of beautiful, vivid, all-consuming dreams, and you must not be afraid to verbalize them. It helps to find things you LOVE to do. And do them often. And do them to the MAX. And lose yourself. You find yourself by dropping the ego, by riding an energy bigger than yourself. You can get there many, many ways: Drumming, Meditation, Running, Music, Art, Poetry, Dance. I mean, really whatever. You have to do. Experience. And throw yourself into whatever you are doing completely. 

Resilience...

Resilience - 1. The capacity to recover quickly from difficulties; toughness. 2. The ability of a substance or object to spring back into shape; elasticity.

Right. Recover. Bounce back. Being elastic & pliable. A bend but don't break attitude. How to do it? 

Physically: I think it helps to move, keep limber, stretch, walk, bike, expend your energy. Remember "energy makes energy." 

Mentally: as Bruce Lee and the Tao Te Ching tells us, "be like water." Be fluid, transparent, give way to solid obstacles, go around, flow.  

Spiritually: connect, open your heart, blue sky mind. Everything is Everything.

Also, good, nutritious food and restful sleep helps. Music, Art, Poetry, Dance. Beyond that, well, there is a Universe to teach us. Yoko Ono - "Open Your Box!"

Take Care Little Holy Ghost...

We lost one of our feathered friends two days ago. We had named her the Holy Ghost. She has been with us about seven years. A little, all-white (with a dot of blue on her back) parakeet. She was an uncommon little bird. Big spirit. Totally tuned-in to everything.

She came from the local Pet Store. We rescued her from a little glass enclosure. She came in a cardboard box. Funny, when we brought her into the bedroom where our little flock hangs out, she was rattling and squawking in that little box like a flaming ball of chaos. That got everyone's attention.

For the longest time we've had a little 4 bird flock. The Holy Ghost was the best of us. The conscience of the flock. She was aloof, moved gracefully, took a bath in her bowl of water nearly every day. None of the other birds bathed as often as the Ghost.

She loved music. She would sing when we played cds, or when we practiced our songs. I'd often play guitar and she'd fire up a whole menu of chirps, trills, squawks, beeps. I'd stop playing and she'd clam up. She'd look at me as if she was thinking: "Don't look at me. I wasn't singing just my head off. Can we please go on to the next song?"

Death came quickly. One morning the Ghost sort of wobbled when I got her to step up on my finger to bring her out for breakfast with the flock. A few hours later she was gone. Our little flock has a major hole in it. The other little birdies seem a bit lost. The Ghost's best buddy, a little "fancy" parakeet named Little Edie has been calling and looking around for her old friend. It's a bit sad, no, really, kind of heart-rending to see.

We buried the Holy Ghost in the garden last night. We covered her up with rich, dark dirt. Sprinkled some flower petals on her grave, and put two little oblong rocks on top. We sang one of our original songs for her, "Dark clouds parting, Moonlight streaming down, the light comes thru the trees...", we rang the Tibetan singing bowl three times, bowed our heads and said goodbye.

Take care little Holy Ghost. You will be greatly missed.

True Adventures of Faux Fu

This morning, I tell the improbable, but dazzling tale of my mini-Moog, ambient music adventure; my signing an "Exclusive Recording Contract" with a Hip-Hop record label, scoring a nice advance, and then getting dropped all in a year's time! But, you know, it's a cool story with a happy ending! And it's all true.

Now the story can be told. No names. Let’s protect the innocent.

It started with boredom. Late March 2020 in the Heartland. A raging Global Pandemic, and a lockdown. My partner was working on a work-from-home freelance project. I had lots of time on my hands.

I was reading William Gibson’s 1999 novel “All Tomorrow’s Parties,” and this line seemed like a direct message that guided my actions: “… you are less inclined to move counter to the momentum of things.”

Right. That became my artistic credo.

I decided to learn how to play a mini-Moog. I’m a longtime guitar player. I had no clue. Just started fiddling with dials, switches, keys, and tones and textures. I created a bunch of ambient, instrumental tracks. All solo mini-Moog, no beats, no drums, no clix. I decided I had an EP ("Moments x&y" - 5 instrumental tracks), which I then shared with our mailing list.

A small, well-connected Hip-Hop Record Label emailed me to say they loved it and wanted to release it. Ha! That was unexpected. I found a $500 an hour lawyer who gave me a “starving artist” break, and I signed signed a multi-year, multi-album contract, an “exclusive recording contract.” I delivered the tracks, and they paid me the first half of an advance.

I must say all this felt like pulling a rabbit out of hat. The $ came at the perfect time. We were swimming in uncharted waters and we had no idea how we were gonna make it from day to day.

I had some conference calls with the label, they had big plans for my little EP, a vinyl record release, and a worldwide introduction of a new artist named Faux Fu. Together we found a graphic artist to create cover art. He started working up some pretty amazing illustrations.

What’s up with name? I found it on a torn piece of cardboard with a picture of a Buddha on one side and a bar code and text on the other. I was using it as a bookmark. The original text read: FAUX FUR. But the “R” was missing. Faux Fu. Perfect. You know, the momentum of things?

Well about a year later, by February 2021, it all came to a halt. The label changed direction, I was no longer in their plans. No EP release, no multi-year deal, no more $ would be coming my way. We voided the contract. They did let me keep the advance, and then they gave me my tracks back. I was suddenly a free agent once again, so I uploaded my EP to Bandcamp and I was back in business as an “independent” artist.

What was the fuss all about? 

Be sure to check it out for yourself. I must admit, the enthusiasm and interest from the label unleashed a torrent of creativity from me. As of today, I have recorded 41 tracks of instrumental music.

And I recently signed an agreement with a music publisher who thinks my tracks will be attractive to their clients. They have added 17 of my tracks to their catalog. So who knows?! Faux Fu’s vibrations may find life out there in the wider world.

So yes, an adventure, a strange story with a happy ending. I mean, you know, going with the flow & the momentum of things.

A Tricky Monkey Times Two...

Memory - "is the faculty of the brain by which data or information is encoded, stored, and retrieved when needed. It is the retention of information over time for the purpose of influencing future action.[1] If past events could not be remembered, it would be impossible for language, relationships, or personal identity to develop.[2] Memory loss is usually described as forgetfulness or amnesia.

Right. Memory is a funny thing. Do our brains encode and store everything? Why do we remember some things and not others? Funny, sometimes early memories are so real, alive and vivid. And we forget what we ate for lunch (oh, I remember, PASTA!), yesterday. Are we constantly editing? Deciding what is important and what isn't?

I read somewhere, I forget where, although, now I think of it, it was in a Philip K. Dick novel, that maybe all learning, all "discovering," is just "remembering."  Maybe the Universe is one long vast remembering? I also remember a line that sticks with me from that same novel: "You are the Authority." Funny what you remember, or maybe it's choose to remember?

Weird. Right? What else did he say in the novel? Beats me. I don't remember.

I was talking to a close friend yesterday about our shared childhood. Turns out our "shared" childhoods are quite different. Events that for her were so vivid, powerful and influential made no impression on me whatsoever. 

And you know, it's weird to think that there are experiences that I experienced that are not in my memory bank. Did I live there? Did I do the things I supposedly did? If I don't remember, at all, what does that mean? What does that say about me?

I am a fallible being. My memory plays tricks. I remember what I remember. A Tricky Monkey times Two! How about you?

Mind-Games...

I know I have thought this, and probably written this down before, most likely used this headline too (hat-tip: John Lennon), but this a.m. it is top of mind, and it seems clearer and clearer to me:

The Human Comedy: It always comes down to people. 

What will people do? Will the Tricky Monkeys do the right thing? How will they act in the heat of the moment, when it really, really counts? How do they come to the decisions they come to? How will they justify the things they do, justify their meager acts of loyalty and betrayal to themselves and to others?

What crazy-ass stories will they tell themselves and the world? How will they justify their lives?

I studied & majored in Psychology in college. Sometimes I think Psychology gets a bad rap. Even by me. Not so much a science as an "art," another avenue for story-telling, conjuring up narratives. Yes, those two bearded old gents, they were kooks, sometimes lauded, sometimes howled at, but those wacky dudes Sigmund Freud, and Carl Jung were definitely onto something. Their "talk-therapy" and "dream interpretation" and "collective unconscious"  and "Ego," "Id," and "Super-Ego" are valuable concepts. Maybe now sort of cliche, laughable, but no doubt precious tools too. Better than the "pharmacology," and "drug-therapy," and the medicalization of the mind. 

History = Psychology

Politics = Psychology

Art = Psychology

Science = Psychology

Morality = Psychology

Religion = Psychology

Yes. What is in our hearts and heads? What experiences formed us, twisted us, led us to the things that we do? Why do we act the way we act? Wanted to sleep with your Mom, and murder your Dad? Is that what you are repressing? And, well, maybe it is good to ask: When is a cigar just a cigar?

Mind-Games.

A Creative Ritual...

The Creative Life. I think of it, at least for my partner and I, as a Priesthood, or maybe even a Monastic Order. If it is a Priesthood, it is like an Esoteric Zen kind with NO DOGMA. The Higher Power we serve is Creativity. Maybe we are the Cult of Maladjusted Creatives. There are no hard and fast rules, except: 

show up

give your all

drop your ego

listen

serve the song, the band, the scene, the play, etc.

Those are the givens. Plus, positive vibes. Bring your heart, your head, your soul. 

We have made $ on some of our creative adventures, but $ are not the motivating, animating thing. No, really it is LOVE. The love of the doing, the love of the being, the love of creating something outside of ourselves. Creating music, theater, poetry. Creating a group energy that transcends.

The doing, the playing, the singing, the acting, even the setting up, the rehearsing, the schlepping can be transforming. It is amazing. Going to the studio, setting up the P.Å. can be a totally consuming ZEN experience. So yes, you can turn the most mundane, routine tasks into a near-religious experience.

A Creative Ritual that feeds the Soul.

A Voice Whispers: "Simplify."

You hear that little voice, floating in your head, it's a whisper, but it's not whispering in your ear, it tells you: "Simplify."

Your experience tells you life is complicated. People. Nature. Thoughts. Feelings. Desires. Hopes. Dreams. Fears. You are determined not to be simple-minded, but at the same time there is a desire to "let go," to eliminate, to banish, to unload the noise, the hurly-burly the jumble, the disinformation, the bad blood, the poor feelings, the jet-trash and detritus of a full-time existence.

Life may be complicated, but maybe we don't have to be complicated, or to live complicated lives.

The Big questions? 

Let them go. Does it really matter if there is a GOD or NO GOD? Does it really matter what happens when we die? Do we really want Immortality? I mean, fuck, who really cares if there is a Heaven or a Hell? Sheesh. Let it come down.

I mean, you know, don't worry, be happy. Simplify. Live now. Today. In the moment. Moment by moment. I don't believe we are here to figure it all out. We are not here to solve the Universe. We are here to experience it. To live our days fully. It's okay if we don't know everything.

The basics. Remove the clutter. The Universe and everything in it demands your attention. I say: LET IT ALL GO! Give your self a break. Breathe. Clear your mind. Meditate. Step lightly. Lean to the light. See the beauty and grace all around you. Inhale it. Don't judge it, don't try to figure it out. Let it envelop, overwhelm and wash over you. It's OK. Do it.

The Weird Age...

Maybe it is the wrong framing?

We look at the World, at the Human Carnival raging across the planet, and we ask: "Will it get Better?" 

OR...

We ask: "Will it get Worse?"

Maybe these questions miss the point?  Everything will get Better & Worse, but... really...

The World, the Human Carnival raging across the planet will most assuredly get Weirder, Much, Much Weirder. And the Weirdness will speed up as the Universe expands or contracts or whatever it is doing.

Maybe we need to get our heads around a new paradigm:  The Weird Age, or The Age of the Weird.

Circus-y

We (my companion and I) were out and about most of the day yesterday. Walking, biking, sitting on a bench, sipping kombucha, facing the lake, watching the clouds waft by, watching the waves roll in. A quite agreeable day.

Lots of rambling conversations about music, recording in the studio, art, the creative process, positive energy and good vibrations. Typical hurly-burly, mumbo-jumbo, and rolling & tumbling from our fevered brains.

Then there was this conversation:

Me: It was great seeing the Circus People. They are like us.

My Companion: Except, I think of them as REAL Circus People.

Me: Well, you know, we are pretty Circus-y.

My Companion: That's true.

SCENE

Nick Cave vs. the French Robots...

I am an optimistic sort. But you know, I can go dark & existential with the best of them. I think everything will work out fine, but then again, I also know everything is liable to go to hell in a blink of an eye. That's just the duality, and reality, of our lives.

I believe in progress and the good. But you know, the "future is unwritten," and there is hope and peril in that reality, nothing is promised, everything can be taken away at any time. There are dark forces at work always. It's always a battle between the dark and the light. It's never-ending. Nothing should be taken for granted.

I've been listening to two records that kind of illustrate the divide. There's Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds' "The Boatman's Call" (1997). What is the sound of a soul in deep distress? What kind of lyrics does a man write, what kind of music pours from him when he is torn apart by the vicissitudes & the vanishing of love? Nick Cave goes deep & dark into the wounds of failed love and failed relationships. Funny. It is a beautiful record. A man in deep pain, a lament, an ode to lost love and deep turmoil. There is a hushed, gorgeous beauty. The Bad Seeds are holding back, playing so minimally. Nick is truly suffering, and he uses his suffering to create beauty. Beauty in sadness & loss.

"It ain’t that in their hearts they’re bad

They can comfort you, some even try

They nurse you when you’re ill of health

They bury you when you go and die

It ain’t that in their hearts they’re bad

They’d stick by you if they could

But that’s just bullshit

People just ain’t no good

People they ain’t no good

People they ain’t no good

People they ain’t no good

People they ain’t no good"

N. Cave (1997)

The other record which I have been spinning often, one I "discovered," during the pandemic, lockdown days, is Daft Punk's "Random Access Memories" (2013). It is a bold, overwhelming, gratifying and inspiring sonic manifesto. It too is bounded by loss and sadness, but at the same time there is an amazing optimism, joy and pleasure to be found in the grooves. Surprising that two Robots (with some special guests) could convey such soul and heart. Giorgio Morodor tells the tale of his artistic life, and it's just the most validating, beautiful & insightful monologue about musical creation and artistic freedom. There is a belief in the "sea of possibilities." Remember the future? Daft Punk turns to the stars, the heavens, and sees an opening. And you know, maybe we "get lucky?" Then special guest Paul Williams (!?) sings a duet with the Robots on "Touch" and it's just the most amazing moment of the record:

[Intro: Paul Williams]

"Touch, touch

I remember touch

Touch, touch

I remember touch

Where do I belong?

Touch, I need something more

I remember touch

I need something more in my mind"

[Reprise: Choir]

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're home

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're home

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're home

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're home

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're home

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're home

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're home

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're home

Hold on, if love is the answer, you're–

So yeah, we have Nick and the Bad Seeds, and we have those French Robots. And they both speak to me. There is wisdom & beauty in the grooves. Food for the soul.

The Next Thing...

The spark, the fire, the twinkle in the eyes, the smile on the lips, the laughter, the mojo. Sometimes you think it's all gone. Maybe too tired, burned out, numb, overloaded, stressed, distracted, disgusted with the world and all the humans in it. There are reasons. Everyone has their reasons.

But then, one day, one morning, one moment you feel fired up once again. Surprising. As Wm. Blake once wrote: "Energy is Eternal Delight." The spark is back. The fire rages. The twinkle, the smile, the laughter, total MOJO, all back in working order.

It's hard to say how it all happens. It just happens. It descends. Like the rain. And there is nothing quite like it. Being alive, engaged, onto the next thing.

Beauty & the Beautiful...

Beauty & the Beautiful...

Surrounds us

and

will take your breath away

make you stop in your tracks

set your head a spinning

sometimes it will come with a smile

or a 

twinkle in the eye

or a graceful gesture or movement

maybe the right chord ringing out

at the right time

or a voice filled with joy

or pain or some other

undefinable, unpinnable-down

emotion

Beauty & the Beautiful

powerful

undeniable

surrounds us every moment

of every day