Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Recently Played

I want to comment on two albums that have been consuming me - absolutely - recently. Indeed, I have listened to these two almost exclusively*.

1. Sufjan Stevens Invites You To Come On Feel The Illinois
If you've never listened to Sufjan ("SOOF-yahn"), his lengthy titles (his track titles are even longer!) and difficult first name should give you at least some indication of his relative position to the norm. When I was first introduced to his music I actually laughed out loud; it seemed so amateur. It was, I think, the most rapid progression from contempt to adoration of an artist I've ever experienced.

I won't attempt to do his music justice on this blog, but let me at least present some of his lyrics. Lyrics that haunt me.

In the tower above the earth,
There is a view that reaches far
Where we see the universe,
I see the fire, I see the end.

Seven miles above the earth,
There is Emmanuel of mothers.
With his sword, with his robe,
He comes dividing man from brothers.

In the tower above the earth, we built it for Emmanuel.
In the powers of the earth, we wait until it rips and rips.
In the tower above the earth, we built it for Emmanuel.
Oh my mother, she betrayed us, but my father loved and bathed us.

Still I go to the deepest grave,
Where I go to sleep alone

~ from Seer's Tower

I cried myself to sleep last night
And the ghost of Carl, he approached my window
I was hypnotized, I was asked
To improvise
On the attitude, the regret
Of a thousand centuries of death

Even with the heart of terror and the superstitious wearer
I am riding all alone
I am writing all alone

Even in my best condition, counting all the superstition
I am riding all alone
I am running all alone

And we laughed at the beatitudes of a thousand lines
We were asked at the attitudes
They reminded us of death

Even with the rest belated, everything is antiquated
Are you writing from the heart?
Are you writing from the heart?

Even in his heart the Devil has to know the water level
Are you writing from the heart?
Are you writing from the heart?

And I cried myself to sleep last night
For the Earth, and materials, they may sound just right to me

Even with the rest belated, everything is antiquated
Are you writing from the heart?
Are you writing from the heart?

Even in his heart the Devil has to know the water level
Are you writing from the heart?
Are you writing from the heart?

~ from the title track

2. Andrew Bird & The Mysterious Production of Eggs
His influences are clear, comprising an all-star list including Nick Drake, Paul Simon, The Beatles, Jeff Buckley, and Sting, but his sound is all his own. While a lot of people reading this might already be familiar with Sufjan, I doubt many have heard this classically trained violinist from Chicago. Admittedly, TMPoE is my first exposure to his work, but you can bet I'm going to try and track down some of his older stuff. Check out one of the tracks here. Or listen to the whole thing streamed here. Give him a good listen, he will not disappoint.



* I've also been listening to Rilo Kiley's first album as well - Take Offs and Landings. However, the two albums mentioned here are the only albums I have ever purchaced on iTunes to date and the ones I've been listening to the most.

Saturday, August 13, 2005

Torrey Pines

I almost missed my flight to San Diego last weekend. Well, sort of. Pat and I, on our way there, were dropping off Thomas at a friends house. While waiting for the front door to be open and Thomas to be let in the house, Pat rolled down his window to say say something to him. There was an unusual crunch as the window began descending. For a fleeting moment I thought that maybe something had gone wrong, but I quickly convinced myself it was all in my head. That is, until Pat attempted to raise the window to louder, more terrifying crunch sounds. In a moment of rapid decision making we decided to drive to Chris's house to enlist his services. Fortunately he was available, so the three of us raced to the airport in my windowless car.

Upon arriving, Pat quickly ran off to pick up Lisa's van (this is the whole reason he was coming to the airport in the first place), I ran to the baggage check (fortunately my elite status with Northwest allows me "elite" access to "special" check-in lines. After getting through security I ran to my gate, boarding pass in hand. I rounded the corner, prepared to walk straight onto the plane, and as I looked up I saw, in big red letters, "DELAYED".

Most of the passengers at this point were already in the gate area and had a perfect view of the scene; I could tell they were pretty amused. I felt their stares as I calmly walked to an open seat and called the folks to tell them the story of my car.

My week, though, has been much calmer. The installation at SDSU is going well, the weather has been perfect, and San Diego is a beautiful city. How could I complain? I'll actually be a little sad to leave, though I would never pass up a chance to actually be home.

Speaking of home, I'm feeling a stronger and stronger sense of unrgency about getting my own place. It needs to happen, I think, and soon. The search has begun.