A Tune Uniquely You...

Listening. 

Is it the most important thing to do in relation to other people? It's definitely important. There is also, empathy, understanding, discernment, judgement, care, grace, responsibility, truth, honor, kindness.

Still, more close-listening, less big talking is probably a good way forward. I think it comes in handy in politics & world events. Certainly, when playing music with other folks, the power and joy of attentive listening comes to the fore.

Listening. It is a great tool, but, of course, it's all so very subjective too. Those sound-waves resonating in your ears, resounding thru your body, are so uniquely subject to your tastes, your opinions, your thoughts, your emotions. Your body too is an instrument, and those vibes will make you sing a tune uniquely you.

Lately we have been worrying over our own songs, new songs we've recorded, mixed, and are now mastering. It is all a master-class in listening. Turns out listening is a rabbit-hole. It is a mad-making activity. There is no "objective" way forward. There is no perfect. Sometimes there is not even consensus on what you are actually hearing.

As Sly Stone once sang: "Different Strokes for Different Folks." You can do measurements. You can analyze sound-waves, you can try the scientific approach, but finally, the question: Does it sound good?  That is up to each individual listener. And each individual listener may be hearing different things. That's the reality. A rabbit hole for sure.

And what devices are you using in your listening? Every headphone colors the sound. Every speaker system. Every player: Walkman, Home Stereo, Boom-box, cheap kitchen stereo, Car stereo.  Yikes. You want to create something that sounds good everywhere on every device.  Once you go down the path of close-listening you find it's a gnarly web of indecision, and second-guessing. But that's probably just the process. A working out, a working thru. Every little detail makes a difference. One small change can totally transform a song. It's a wild, delicate thing. The more you listen, the more you hear. The deeper you go, the deeper it gets. The closer you look, the more you see. The closer you listen, the more you hear. There's a lesson there. For sure.

Humans, Losing Their Shit...

The Humans are cracking. The fear and hate seems to be bubbling up from deep inside. The Chaos Agents are happily fanning the flames. What to do? Try not to add to the suffering. There is a deep sadness attached to everything "Human." We have met the enemy and it turns out the enemy truly is us. 

The suffering, madness, fear & loathing. A toxic stew, both far and near.

We had another very disturbing encounter on public transportation over the weekend. Coming back home from a quite wonderful gathering of musicians, we found ourselves trapped in a train car with a raging madman.

A large, burly, ominous-looking man was on the train smoking a long, slender cigarette. I suppose it was laced with something toxic, maybe meth,  maybe crack, "god knows what." He was ranting and raving, pounding on the walls of the train, jibbering, jabbering, speaking in tongues. It was truly an extraordinary display of a wild, uncontainable madness. A very troubled & scary man wrestling with a very troubled & scary mind totally lit up, in pain and raging.

My partner and I, and all our fellow passengers hunkered down. We all did our best to be invisible. We exchanged worried glances and counted down the minutes until we could get off this damn train. I am pretty sure we were all praying , silent prayers, to not be seen, and hoping beyond hope that this crazy-ass dude wasn't armed with any weapons.

The train pulled into the station and we all spilled out onto the platform. The hopped up madman came out too, moving like a deranged rhino, he came up behind me and held out a long, slender cigarette to me. Oh man. I just shook my head. "No thanks." Then he turned away and stomped off into the dark night. 

Yikes. The Humans. Wrapped a bit tight. Losing their shit. The theme of the moment.

A Healthy Mind vs. Rage & Despondency...

Yes. Early this morning I came across this post on Brain Pickings: a healthy mind vs. rage and despondency. It really does seem like "what it's all about." The Human Mind is an "attention machine." What we pay attention to is everything. How to navigate a chaotic, sometimes hostile world? 

“everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances.” 

"That choice, that attitude, is what we call mindset, and it is as trainable as a muscle, as teachable as piano..."

"A healthy mind knows how to hope; it identifies and then hangs on tenaciously to a few reasons to keep going. Grounds for despair, anger, and sadness are, of course, all around. But the healthy mind knows how to bracket negativity in the name of endurance. It clings to evidence of what is still good and kind. It remembers to appreciate; it can — despite everything — still look forward to a hot bath, some dried fruit or dark chocolate, a chat with a friend, or a satisfying day of work. It refuses to let itself be silenced by all the many sensible arguments in favor of rage and despondency."

Yes. Exactly. This is the Human struggle. In our minds. We can train. We can choose. We can see the horror, and lean to the light. We can cling to Hope, and turn away from cynicism. It's the best, most healthy way forward. You know. Damn the torpedoes.

The New Christofascism...

The GOP elected a new speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives. Is it good news? Probably not.

I believe this handy little term will become useful in the days and months ahead, and it's totally on-point about a very retrograde and toxic movement: "Christofascism", a neologism which was coined in 1970 by the liberation theologian Dorothee Sölle.

Interpretation of Sölle

"Tom F. Driver, the Paul Tillich Professor Emeritus at Union Theological Seminary, expressed concern "that the worship of God in Christ not divide Christian from Jew, man from woman, clergy from laity, white from black, or rich from poor". To him, Christianity is in constant danger of Christofascism. He stated that "we fear christofascism, which we see as the political direction of all attempts to place Christ at the center of social life and history" and that much of the churches' teaching about Christ has turned into something that is dictatorial in its heart and is preparing society for an American fascism.

Christofascism "disposed or allowed Christians, to impose themselves not only upon other religions but other cultures, and political parties which do not march under the banner of the final, normative, victorious Christ" – as Paul F. Knitter describes Sölle's view."

Yeah, it's a revolting, pernicious & toxic ideology and movement. A bit insidious too. Using Religion and Jesus as a front for Fascism. Whatever happened to the Jesus of  Peace, Love, Understanding and Forgiveness? This Christofascism must be called out and resisted. I say we must all stay "Woke" people! 

One Place to Another Place...

We were trying to get from one part of town to another part of town yesterday. We were heading out of our usual little circle, traveling a distance across the big city. We decided to take the "elevated train," which comes in various "colors" Purple, Red, Blue, Brown, Yellow, Green. Our trip required a short ride on the Purple a longer ride on the Red, and then a shorter jaunt on the Brown. 

Didn't happen. The ride on the Purple was short and efficient. Then a total dead stop on the Red. Word was some kind of "police action" had shut down all activity on a long stretch of the Red line. None of us knew what "police action" really meant, but it was probably not anything good.  We were shuttled to a shuttle bus. If you want to know what's happening on the street, ride a bus. You get the full demographic spectrum of humanity seated and standing side by side in close quarters. It is one of the colorful features of public transportation.

And what of our fellow Human Beings? How are they doing? Seems folks are a little frazzled, wrapped a bit too tight. There was a fight on the bus. A woman was being a little rough and rowdy with her child, and folks around her were not pleased. One rider started "filming" her with his phone. This totally infuriated the young mother. She started yelling and screaming, and hitting out at the other passengers. She confronted the man with the phone, there were slaps and shouts, and tugging and pushing. 

The whole bus was now a rollicking, pissed off entity. Folks were shouting, calling out the woman, encouraging her to sit down and shut up. There was a kid with a skateboard, he was in the midst of a long, rambling, mumbled monologue, summing up all the woes &  discontent and unhappiness swirling in the air. My partner was a bit worried about that kid, he seemed a bit unstable, maybe in conversation with someone who wasn't there. Finally he started shouting at the woman too. All those shouts and taunts inflamed the young mother even more.  Most of the other folks just seemed to want to get to their next stop. That wasn't happening either. The woman bus driver pulled to the side of the road, got off the bus, got on her phone, and presumably called the police.

Most of the passengers, including my partner and I, decided it was time to exit the bus. We were now on the street. Far from our destination. The young mother, child in tow exited and scattered to the four winds. The bus was now totally empty. No one wanted to stick around to see what else was in store. 

It started to rain. That was kind of the last straw. We had to laugh. We found shelter at a corner cafe. We ordered up two hot chocolates with oat milk. If we were going to be "stranded," might as well make the best of it. We were a bit stunned. It was all sort of funny and weird too. I thought of that Marvin Gaye song, "What's Going On?" 

Lucky for us, the person we were heading off to meet rescued us. We were whisked away in a big, shiny hybrid vehicle.  We ended up making our appointment, a bit late, a bit frazzled, and a bit weary. Still. We made it, in one piece, with a story to tell. Sometimes getting from one place to another can be an adventure. Yes. Indeed.

Unfortunate Prophecy...

"Are we not men? We are Devo."

Yikes. I hate to say it. But of course, it turns out that the band Devo was just so right. The band was birthed out of tragedy, the murder of students at Kent State May 4, 1970. It was a galvanizing event for the founders of the band. They came up with the idea of basing a band and movement inspired by Devolution "the tendency toward entropy across all human endeavors."

And over the decades it seems we have been watching this devolution roll out at a high velocity across the globe. Double-yikes.

"Presently, the fabric that holds a society together has shredded in the wind. Everyone has their own facts, their own private Idaho stored in their expensive cellular phones. The earbuds are in, the feedback loops are locked, and the Frappuccino’s are flowing freely. Social media provides the highway straight back to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. The restless natives react to digital shadows on the wall, reduced to fear, hate, and superstition. There are climate change deniers, and there are even more who think that the climate is being maliciously manipulated by corporate conglomerates owned by the Central Bank to achieve global control of resources and wealth. If only that James Bond-style fantasy were true, I would be much more excited about the future, which I fear is more of a slow-death conspiracy of dunces like in Mike Judge’s movie, Idiocracy, the movie Devo should have made."

Yes. Devo and Idiocracy. Not just entertainment. Prophecies. Unfortunately...

Mojo-Killers...

There is sabotage from others, and self-sabotage from deep inside your own being. The first usually comes out of the blue. The second is a pernicious tendency that rises up unbidden. It is bound up with other gnarly tendencies: guilt, futility, uncertainty, hopelessness. These are just weaknesses, and flaws that are in-built into the fabric of a personality. Bad shit. Total Mojo-Killers. You just need to out-last them. They are mood depressors that you have to sometimes endure. You can actually feel those depressors flooding through your body. A great illustration of how mind and body work together as one. These are all valid tendencies, but not very useful. They are not the final word or judgement. Fleeting inclinations. Turns out, as a tricky monkey, sometimes, you are really not your own best friend.

What are the remedies? 

Always be moving. Sinking into your body. Turning off the internal monologue. Pause those dark thought-trains. Going deeper. Finding a certain silence. Riding a bike on the lakefront and finding a sunny spot underneath a big blue sky and soaking in the sunny rays. Or sitting on your couch at home, picking up your guitar, and working on a new riff. Eating a good meal. Listening to a favorite record. Reading a good book. Showing a little patience with your self and the world. As George Harrison once sang: "All things must pass." That's a good thing. Really. And wait for the next thing heading your way.

Tortoise & Hare...

Tortoise or Hare? Slow or Fast?

I'm a bit light on my feet, always moving, a bit jumpy. So you might think Hare. Words come easily to me. My head is always a spinning ball of confusion. There is a bit of lightning in me. I think of myself as "smart" and tricky. But really, I'm also, surprisingly a bit slow on the uptake; homely, crusty, creaky around the edges. I feel a bit settled in my bones; maybe an old soul. Always trying to take the long-view. Not in a race with the Hare, just taking one step at a time. The road is still rolling out.  A good motto: always be moving. Also: stay close to the ground. Last night I was confronted with Class. As in, out of my class; out-classed. You know there are some human beings that just happen to live lives that are way more comfortable, humans with better genes, bigger bank accounts, more intelligent, better educated, more talented, better fed, more beautiful & symmetrical. They naturally have advantages over many others. I felt like a Tortoise, lost in the Land of Hare. It was surprisingly a bit invalidating & intimidating. Some of us are movers and shakers, some of us get moved and shaken. I come from a long line of  hustlers, working stiffs, and schleppers, human beings always on the margins, outsiders, low-riders, on the make, always struggling in the water, often swimming against the stream. Oh well. That's a certain reality. I find it best not to think of life as a competition (although, we are often competing for resources, love, attention, opportunities, etc). I mean, I think it's probably best to think of life as an always-renewing garden. We are all born with what we are born with, and we must deal with the deal that's been dealt to us. Some of us are tall, bright, beautiful, colorful flowers, some of us are shorter, darker; we are feisty, dusty, little shrubs. Or you know, yes, there is the Tortoise and the Hare contending out on the boulevard. I find myself resonating as Tortoise/shrub. Maybe a Tortoise/shrub with some Hare-like and flowery qualities. Yikes. I mean, fuck it, Damn the Torpedoes...

The Working Week...

Monday morning. Back to the working week. Not too high, not too low. Keeping the game going. It is best to try to manage your emotions, to try not to be overwhelmed. Steady the wheel. One step at a time. And, yes, of course, "Damn the Torpedoes."

A Powerful Thing...

Our band played a r&r show last night in a small bar. We were reminded again that we are a gnarly beast of a musical outfit. My partner and I write all the songs. They are raw, homemade, missives, totally, uniquely us. Over the years, we both have found our voices, and the songs, and the band are vehicles to put our "truth" across. Amazing, to us, we have attracted a group of fabulously talented musicians to totally commit to the vision. But we are so ambitious, with such a big sound. It's always a challenge to get up on a small stage and have all the players locked in. Funny, we create such a big noise, we are always a challenge for the sound-tech, and for us too. I was playing guitar on the far right of the stage and all I could hear was my own guitar, the drummer and our two vocals. Bass, double bass, percussion, electric guitar? All a noisy blur. Plus lots of feedback early in the set. Funny how a little feedback can color the night. It took about three songs into the set before the episodes of feedback were tamed. We did "get there." It doesn't take much for my partner and I to totally get lost in the vibes, and to reach some kind of transcendence. Performing is such a uniquely satisfying kick. Afterwards a few strangers came up to us raving about the show. That is always the best kind of feedback, folks we don't know, folks who have never seen us before, responding in a totally enthusiastic way. We are connecting. It is always a bit surprising, and rewarding to find out that our gnarly beast is being seen and heard. It's a powerful thing.

Intersecting Timelines...

Intersecting timelines...

That's a feature of the Human Game; where we start, where we finish, it all varies. We are each on a singular road. It takes awhile for this to sink in, to truly, madly, deeply sink into your bones and consciousness.

If you are waiting for the moment when all will be revealed, all will make sense, and you "get it," well, like Dylan once sang: "The Groom's still waiting at the Altar." 

Yes. No one will explain it. The Lightening doesn't strike. You are left to your own devices. This is your life. Live it. Any insights come haltingly. 

Life & Living. It's complicated, messy, confusing, not always satisfying. You just need to get to it. Do your thing, do your best. Damn the torpedos.

A Common & Uncommon Day...

Yesterday. A day, pretty much like any other. I walked around the neighborhood. Made all my appointed rounds. Some days all that is required of me is that I show up, feet on the ground, head screwed on straight, and do what I say I'm going to do. Living in a certain truth. 

My companion was determined to make the day a celebration. So, it was back to flour-less chocolate cake, and "standard," fluffy cake too. One slim slice of each, shared by the two of us.  A certain luxury in eating  cake. An unusual, uncommon treat for us. 

I also brought out my guitar and worked on the chords and riffs for a new song. Waiting for lyrics from my songwriting partner. I played it for our little flock of birds. Three very unique, winged creatures. They all seemed happy with the music. Chirping, fluffing, singing along. A good sign.

Then we watched one of our favorite films, "Donne Darko"  (2001). Yes. A great, very unusual movie. About all the big things in life, weighty questions alive in a little tightly constructed film. Funny. Mysterious. With time-travel, the search for God & Love, plus a fabulous soundtrack. One of our favorite films. 

"Why are you wearing that stupid Man Suit?"

Yes. It was a day.

Unpredictable...

Up early. Well before dawn. Turned on the radio. A voice said: "Life can be unpredictable." Ha. Yep. No kidding...

"Chaos Rules, Baby, Please Pass the Condiments..."

You know, as the climate declines, the human population increases, resources dwindle, and our always-on, deeply interconnected intelligence systems seem to be constantly flooded with idiocy, misinformation and total shite, Chaos, emerges as the new King. Human Beings are playing an increasingly weird and toxic version of the Human Game. 

Center... No Center...

I said something stupid yesterday. It was a polite conversation.

"The center will not hold."

Of course, that's pretty ridiculous. There is no center. There is nothing to hold.

Reading Bolano...

It was a Sunday. U2's "Unforgettable Fire" on the stereo early in the day. In the afternoon a long bike ride in a stiff, quite brisk breeze. Then, back to the mansion, reading the last chapter of Roberto Bolano's "Amulet"  out-loud as we sat on the shiny stone floor; the reading a gift to my love. Beauty. Sadness. "The Mother of all Poets." Tears. Courage. Love. Generosity. Sunday.

Consolations...

Sure. Its dark. Handcuffed with bad-tech. Still determined to write anyway. Yesterday, we indulged in chocolate flour-less cake. Sweet consolation.

Typing in the dark with my thumbs. Sign of the times.

What fresh madness now?

Imaginary Rabbits, Imaginary Rabbit Holes...

Ah... well... my partner and I, we turn away from the madness and we chase imaginary rabbits down imaginary rabbit holes. Tom Petty called it, "Running Down a Dream."  We are working on our music project, a new 9 song album, recorded, mixed, and now nearly mastered. It is a long, meticulous, very detailed process. It is fun, and rewarding, and exhausting. My partner and I are a chasing down some imaginary ideal, in a world where the ideal is a shimmery chimera dancing just out of reach.

We are down to making decisions on how loud tracks are and how many seconds of silence work best between tracks. Yes. Silence. In this day and age of streaming services and playlists, maybe not the most important thing. But if you are working on an album, a CD, who knows, maybe a future vinyl release, the amount of silence from one track to the next looms as an important thing. 

"Maybe for these two tracks 0 seconds works? Nice how one song segues right into the next one. Maybe 2 seconds between these tracks? Maybe 4 seconds for those two?"

Funny. Lost in the silence. We can fall into the gap between, and lose ourselves to the project. 

We know no one else on the planet will listen to these tracks as closely as we do. No one else will give this album this much love and attention. You know, that's a given. Not our concern. Imaginary rabbits. Imaginary Rabbit holes. We feel like we can get lost and hopefully found there too...

Hell & Paradise...

Of course, it's easy to be open-minded, open-hearted, and philosophical when you are far from the front lines, and a long distance from the carnage. There are no bullets flying here, no bombs going off, no "gates of hell" opening up in our reality, no dire circumstances, no overwhelming tragedy hanging over everything and everyone.

In fact, over we here find ourselves cocooned in our own somewhat idyllic, Midwestern, totally Progressive, Blue-Bubble neighborhood; everything is quiet, calm, peaceful. Yesterday was just a perfectly beautiful, blue-sky, day. It makes it all so surreal.

We carry a deep sadness in our hearts and heads for Humanity. We grieve for our fellow Human Beings. 

We know that we are truly lucky. By pure, stupid luck and a bit of pluck, we find ourselves in very a prosperous, educated, copacetic community. We are marginal characters, living by our wits. But we are in a sort of hunky-dory, paradise. And we can easily retreat into our own little Private Idaho, an oasis filled with music, creativity, & good cheer.

We also know that all of this can vanish, can easily be snatched away, in an instant. We are always just one catastrophe from catastrophe.  Jim Morrison: "No one gets out of here alive." No one escapes unscathed.

It's odd. Very disorienting. Heart-breaking. As they often say: Life is not fair. You want it to be fair. You want everyone to be able  to prosper and thrive. You yearn for Truth, Justice, Love, Kindness, Grace. You hope for the best for all. But of course, that hope is often dashed on the rocks. You know, like, pretty much every day. It truly is a Universe of Creation and Destruction locked in a constantly shifting, never-ending dance.

Implicated...

I suppose I go with that Jean Paul Sartre "existentialist" idea that we are all responsible & accountable for everything. As Human Beings, we are all implicated in the sins & the crimes of Humanity. We are also implicated in the wonderful acts of grace, kindness and good acts that Human Beings are capable of, and often bring to the world. I am also of the mind that Sartre was right: "Hell is other people." But I would like to add: "Heaven is other people too." You get both.

I also go along with that sort of mystical idea that everything and everyone is connected. And everything, absolutely everything, counts. It's a heavy way to think, ("he ain't heavy, he's my brother..."), and to live. You must wrestle with the Demons unleashed by your fellow humans, and you also can, & must, commune with the Angels unleashed by your fellow humans too. I mean it's a burdensome way to live & to think. It makes real the reality that Life is not just a free and easy ride. Living in the world comes with burdens, responsibilities, guilts, joys, wonders, and gob-smackingly convoluted enigmas, contradictions & deep in the bone mysteries.

A Recurring Theme...

Matching a massacre with a massacre seems like a murderous madness that will just make a terrible & horrible situation that much more terrible and horrible. The logic of war, the logic of revenge,  the cycle of violence, it all rolls out with a deadly inevitability. It's not controversial to point out that "everyone has their reasons," but those reasons are often faulty, flawed and death-dealing. Unfortunately, this kind of murderous, nihilistic violence is not novel. It's built into the history of Humanity. Humanity's Inhumanity to Humanity. It's a recurring theme.

Bad Math...

Fumbling and reeling this morning. Shocked and grieving for Humanity. I think of the Dalai Lama's idea: We are all Human Beings first. Fundamentally, we are all the same. We may have different ideas in our heads, have different skin, hair and eye colors, wear different clothes, grow up in different countries, offer prayers, or do not, to different Gods, but, you know we are all just very human Beings, with all the quirks and flaws that come to us via our own unique trick-bags. As the singer-songwriter Nick Cave reminds us, we are all on a "singular road" but we are also all connected, and on singular roads together.

I'm going full-on Biblical this morning. I think of that musty old book as a weighty tome, written by Human Beings, full of contradictions, crazy-ass B.S., hard to believe stories, and a few beautiful passages of poetry. 

When in doubt I fall back on a nasty cliche. My morning misguided cliche: "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." Wrong-headed for sure. That approach inevitably leads to a world of eyeless, toothless Human Beings. And matching Death for Death just multiplies Death. It's bad Death-Dealing Math.

One wonders: How to multiply the Peace? The Love? The Understanding?

History of the Species...

Events. They happen. You listen, you watch. You think. You shudder. You feel such sorrow for Human Beings in the throes of deep suffering. It's always the common "people" who suffer the worst. Those folks who happen to be "in the way," who just want to live happy lives, caring for their children, trying to make it day to day. It stuns one into silence. Words truly do fail. There is no making sense. There is no point in taking sides. This is a long-running calamity. A Human flaw writ large across centuries, it is built into the history of the species. Blood thirsty combatants of all races, creeds and nations. Human Beings; we are an often remarkably astonishing species, sometimes fabulously creative, loving & wonderful, with a very, very dark, calamitous side. Crucified on the Cross of Duality.

It Don't Come Easy...

Locally, personally, all is well. It doesn't take much: a good sleep, excellent coffee brew, music always playing on the box. My life is basically a long, meandering musical.

This morning, I briefly click on the radio for a dose of the latest news, "I wonder what's happening out there?"

And... well... it's all pretty much bad news. I mean, we are all now living on a very hot, over-stuffed, planet. Another War has broken out, this time in the Middle East. Folks are testy, and pissed off, and taking it out on each other. Human Beings are very good at inflicting pain and suffering on other Human Beings.

All the folks doing the good work seem to be overshadowed by the Agents of Chaos.  And, you know, it's much easier to amplify the chaos, much harder to make things work for the benefit of all. Turns out that often, the shouters, the greedy ones, the blood-thirsty-types, and the ignorant fools (they are legion), dominate the highways and bi-ways of conversation & communication. Yikes. The overall trend looks a bit dicey.

Taking care of our own (tend to your garden always), mental health seems so very essential. 

There are always the competing forces, light and dark, creation and destruction. It's that kind of Universe. We have to juggle, and grapple with, those competing forces, and try to make them work for us. We have to do our best to stay positive and hopeful. Damn the torpedoes. Sure. I know. "It don't come easy." Just ask Ringo. 

But living with heart, and love, and a musical soul. That's the thing!

The Healing Trick of Music...

Yes. I went thru the motions of the day yesterday. My head was elsewhere. My body was out on the streets and paths, my head was in the fog. That's not the way to do it. You should be totally aligned in all you do. I was failing and flailing on that front. I was more in the mode of: Fake It, To Make It. I can smile & laugh and chit-chat with the best of them, and I did, I performed all the motions and notions in time, and on the beat, I did all that I was required to do, but it was all a false front.

I really just wanted to put my headphones on, kick back, and hunker down in a comfy corner. Which I did later in the afternoon. I alternated between two very most-excellent sets of headphones, my sturdy old Grados and my new and very shiny Hifimans. You learn that each pair of headphones conjures its own sonic-universe. The Grados, on the ear, are a bit brighter, bolder, more dynamic and immediate, the Hifimans, over the ear, are bit more refined, with a more expansive sound-stage, a little mellower, a little richer, more immersive.

Both are very good & super-enjoyable. They bring the music alive. And what did I listen to? What was the soundtrack of healing alignment? The Brian Jones Town Massacre's "Their Satanic Majesties' Second Request" (1995), yes, a trippy, cool, mellow, hippie-vibe of a record. The Who's "Who's Next" (1971), thrilling, definitive r&r. Mogwai's "Happy Songs for Happy People" (2003), never fails to enchant, a sonic feast. The Talking Heads "Remain in Light" (1980), the apotheosis of groove, totally captivates and revitalizes. Steely Dan's "Countdown to Ecstasy,"  (1973), supposedly their lowest selling album, pretty much my favorite, with all those great songs, and great lines, with Jeff "Skunk" Baxter flying across those tracks on electric guitar. Some of the best albums from some of the best bands. It really did the aligning and healing trick. This morning I am feeling recharged and very, very present to, in, and of, the moment.

Chasing...

Chasing the ideal. Living in the real. There is a tension there. And we must pay attention. All the little details count. The days tick by. The light of the day shrinks as the seasons change. Dark to dark seems to expand day by day. Carrying on becomes a mission in itself. It pays to have a mission. Keeps the game going with a forward momentum. You have this idea of the beautiful, of the good, of the right and true. You want to live there. You want to make it last, knowing that nothing lasts. Aye, there's the rub.

Grand Experiment...

It's an odd thing. If you think of yourself, your body, mind and spirit as basically a chemistry lab, you realize that your chemical experiments can go totally haywire. You think you have the formula down, but really you, and your lab, are moving targets. 

You are also like a river, an ocean breeze, a shaggy willow-tree dancing in the wind. So yeah, the chemistry gets a bit fuzzy,  & muddy, and your instruments and meters go into the red and on the fritz. Yikes. You miss connections. You drop things. You struggle thru the motions of the day. Weird. One day totally clicking, and in-tune, the next day is all dissonance, false notes, broken strings. Searching for the right combination of elements. Day to day. It's a grand experiment.

Perfect Hippie Couple...

Yesterday, late afternoon, my companion and I were walking down the boulevard in all our splendor: a colorful scarf, a colorful bandana, jeans, boots, dark glasses, long flowing shirts, beatific smiles on our faces, bubbles of laughter floating above us, a cute, happy little doggie at our side, both of us feeling good, almost groovy, excited, marveling at the calm waters of the lake, with the glorious sunshine beaming down upon us, big blue sky, sweetly caressing breeze, an 80 degree day, everything perfect and in it's right place. A woman stopped in front of us on the path with a big smile on her face and joyously exclaimed: "Oh my goodness, you two are the perfect Hippie Couple!" Ha. Funny. We are not living in the past, we are not big on nostalgia, we don't wear tie-dye, we are always doing our best to BE HERE NOW. But, you know, maybe she's not far off?  I mean, our vibe, can't hide the vibe, you know, "What's So Funny About Peace, Love & Understanding?"  Let's get it together Brothers & Sisters!

Nothing Happens...

Funny. It turns out our days of drifting, floating, cruising, basically, goofing off, are our best days. Yesterday, brilliant sunshine ruled. We spent the afternoon out on the lakefront path. We went for a long meandering bike ride, then we decamped to our "sun-spot," setting out a blanket on the lush green expanse of grass, fronting a looming monolith of stone and glass. It is a very private place facing a very public path. We sipped cold drinks and talked about all the things of the world. There were great moments of silence too. Blue skies, puffy, rolling, clouds. Humans of all shapes and sizes passing by on the pathway. The big city, 30 miles away, visible on the horizon-line of the lake. Those massive towers like little tinker-toys, wrapped in wispy, misty fog. We like to call it "The Emerald City." It turns out that the days where nothing really happens are the days when everything happens. 

The Apotheosis of Groove & Rhythm...

Yesterday, we took a day off from  playing music and instead went to the movie palace to see other folks do their thing. We trekked to the big city to see the re-release showing of Talking Head's concert film "Stop Making Sense" (1983) vividly, luxuriously projected on the silver screen. It certainly made sense to us.

The film has never looked or sounded better. It's been digitized and remastered, and it's freaking glorious.

How sum it up? Thrilling. Fascinating. Inspiring. A band at it's finest. The apotheosis of "Groove and Rhythm."

Talking Heads are one of the seminal bands to emerge out of the New York, CBGB scene. They were there with other great bands in the 70's = The Ramones, The Patti Smith Group, Television, Blondie. 

David Byrne = the jittery, quirky leading man. All energy, all the time. I have always considered David Byrne an artist in all ways. He has a bit of a cracked and skewed vision. Meticulous in presentation. Brilliant. Head-opening. Funny too. The perfect compliment to the powerful groove machine band. 

It was a marvelous way to spend the late afternoon. A clearing. A boost of energy. Highly recommended.