|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| I put up an artist page on myspace.
It's mostly absurd, but it has my Kodon song on it, and I'll put up future songs I record as well. Check it out if you haven't heard my Kodon song, it's downloadable!
Maybe real update soon.
...
If any of you happens to see Annie Clark of St. Vincent on the street (she'll be the one playing five instruments), please kill her and steal her abilities and give them to me. If you can't steal her abilities, just kill her. | | |
| Don't bring me bad news no bad news I don't need none of your bad news today
You're a sad little boy, anyone can see, just a sad little boy, that's why you're carryin' on that way
Why don't you burn it all down, burn your own house down, burn your own house down, try to kill your own disease
And leave the rest of us (there's a lot of us) leave the rest of us who want to live in peace to live in peace
I'm gonna find me a man
love him so well
love him so strong
love him so slow
we're gonna go way beyond the walls of this fortress
and we won't be afraid
we won't be afraid
though the darkness may come our way
we won't be afraid to be in love anymore
and we'll grow kindness in our hearts for all the strangers among us
til there are no strangers anymore
Don't bring me bad news, no bad news, I don't need none of your bad news today
You can have my fear, I've got nothing to lose, can't have my fear, I'm not getting out of here alive anyway
I don't need none of these things I don't need none of these things I've been handed
And the bird of peace is flying over, she is flying over and she is coming in for landing
...
"In an album of peaks, none reaches higher than "No Bad News," an aggressive acoustic anthem that has Griffin stammering words of hope obsessively over hard strumming, as though performing a campfire exorcism." -- Onion AV Club
"There's no safety net. It comes down to the voice. Griffin stole Bruce Springsteen's "Stolen Car" out from under him just by turning her voice to a near whisper, letting its natural cry inform the desperate lyrics until the tension was insurmountable. Every one of her albums has these moments." -- Paste
"Children Running Through is Patty Griffin's masterpiece thus far." -- All Music Guide
...
She is so good it is so good always she is so so it's all true buy her discs.
...
Step 1: Buy the new Patty Griffin album.
Step 2: Buy all Patty Griffin albums.
Step 3: Listen to the new Patty Griffin album.
Step 4: Repeat track 7 until it comes true.
You are now emotionally dependent on Patty Griffin, just like everyone else with a pulse.
| | |
| Spencer got quite a kick that I spent enough money on music last year that I was able to make a list of the best albums I bought (or otherwise acquired) that were released in 2006, AND I had to limit it to 30. I try not to think about it too much. Anyway, it's still tentative, but:
30. Drive-By Truckers - A Blessing and a Curse
29. Hem - Funnel Cloud
28. Glen Phillips - Mr Lemons
27. Thom Yorke - The Eraser
26. Kim Taylor - I Feel Like a Fading Light
25. Jars of Clay - Good Monsters
24. Sarah Harmer - I'm a Mountain
23. Rosie Thomas - These Friends of Mine
22. Woven Hand - Mosaic
21. Josh Ritter - The Animal Years
20. Sufjan Stevens - The Avalanche
19. Beirut - Gulag Orkestar
18. Jason Collett - Idols of Exile
17. Vienna Teng - Dreaming Through the Noise
16. Nina Nastasia - On Leaving
15. Regina Spektor - Begin to Hope
14. Guillemots - Through the Windowpane
13. Glen Phillips - Unlucky 7
12. Johnny Cash - American V: A Hundred Highways
11. Kris Delmhorst - Strange Conversation
10. The Hold Steady - Boys and Girls in America
09. Belle & Sebastian - The Life Pursuit
08. Anathallo - The Floating World
07. Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings the Flood
06. My Brightest Diamond - Bring Me the Workhorse
05. Detholz! - Cast Out Devils
04. Joanna Newsom - Ys
03. Danielson - Ships
02. Grizzly Bear - Yellow House
01. The Decemberists - The Crane Wife
Heard of any of them?
Anyway, Spencer was motivated to make his own year-end list. We amended the rules for him a little, so it includes ALL albums bought (or otherwise acquired) in 2006. Here's his:
5. Nickel Creek - Why Should the Fire Die?
4. Nickel Creek - This Side
3. Chris Thile - Not All Who Wander Are Lost
2. Pirates of the Caribbean Soundtrack
1. Jars of Clay - Good Monsters
Since he got three of those from me, I'm pretty impressed. He's really growing. I'm really proud of him.
But I'll admit this year was a little thin, good-releases-wise. For now I'll look on to a place (CPO) where Patty Griffin will find me (on Tuesday), along with Andrew Bird (in March), Wilco (in May), and Over the Rhine, Tess Wiley, Radiohead, Sam Phillips, Arcade Fire, Autolux, Cara Luft, and the Innocence Mission (before the end of the year, hopefully.) 2007 - Best Year In Music Ever? Who can say? | | |
| So tell me, Rent, how do you measure a semester?
If a semester is minutes, then it’s simple: 525,600 divided by 3 is 175,200. 175,200 minutes, or four months, devoted entirely to the studies of French, Literature of the Modern World, Photography, and Creative Writing.
If a semester is academics, then this wasn’t a good one. Not enough of those 175,200 minutes were spent thinking about any of those four subjects, though a fair number were spent frantically trying to make myself care more about them, and I would have done well to spend more of them forgetting the whole business and enjoying myself a bit more.
If it’s a list of creative successes, I had a few: A song about Lake Superior, a poem Spencer likes, pictures of power lines and banisters, a sinister giraffe, an orthodontist with an unhealthy emotional investment in Christy Schweigert’s dental hygiene, a kickass solo on a yellow recorder.
It could be an assortment of things that were new: Church of the Resurrection, The Counseling Center, Media Resources, and Evans 4.
Things that were old: The same old insecurities, same old lethargy, same old friends. Same old self, same old grace.
Things that were borrowed: David’s shuffle, several dozen CDs, a book by Kierkegaard.
Things that were blue: Me, most of the time.
If a semester has a death toll, Fall 2006’s was unparalleled. Things we lost in the semester include a tripod, an iPod, a bike, two hooded sweatshirts, Third Wheel, a purple car, my grandma’s house, Emily Parsons, peace of mind, and an umbrella on a streetcar. The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
It had its moments, sure: I think Fall 2006 and I think of hearing The First Noel drifting up to me through the Edman rafters. I hear Gabe Richarde going, "Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, hmmm" and six or eight sophomores he's never met singing along all semester long.
If a semester is a short story, Professor Mazzarella says it's precision of effect we need to be going for. In that case, there was no shortage of cinematic moments and accidental, recurring symbolism. When I think Fall 2006 I’ll sing Lake Pontchartrain is haunted, skipping rocks and worship share a bed, we could be diving for pearls, I wish I had a river I could skate away on, goin’ to see the river man, the whirlwind is in the thorn tree, my mother was a run-on sentence. I’m afraid of finding the black again, but I’ll look on to a place where love will find me.
I’ll see the desk, the boxers, the phone, a bad left turn, six distinctly different lobsters, scraped up hands, pineapple compote, an unfortunate hymn choice, a mockingbird dressed like a dove. I’ll see Annie Dillard, Charna Halpern, Slavoj Zizek, and Ashley Woodiwiss arguing in a hot-air balloon. Barbara slipping on a banana peel. Duke covered in Post-It Notes. Gentle Ben and Grant waltzing in Trevor McMaken’s living room. My old piano teacher bursting into tears at Thanksgiving dinner. A house covered in vines. Christy asking what day it is. Everyone I've ever known storming the front of Edman Chapel's stage, swinging their arms over their heads, yelling, "Tigerstigerstigerstigerstigerstigerstigerstigers!"
For the most part, though, I see the bottom of my roommate's bunk, the back of my own eyelids, the same old computer screen. The last four months were hard.
But if a semester is the cross, as are all things, then maybe the last four months saved my life. Maybe all those other things taught me to see my One thing better.
If we look at it that way, and I don't think we should ever look at it any other way, maybe Fall 2006 simply rolled over and died, "Worst Semester Ever" stamped plainly on its forehead, but the whole time it was an investment toward something better and brighter that starts today, starts yesterday and tomorrow, starts years ago before any of this, and ends never ever ever.
| | |
| January 1st, 2005, just days after the tsunami, I wrote this:
We count down to the end of a year without light while thousands mourn between the numbers. Peninsulas are now islands. Beaches are now graveyards. Posh resorts are now vacation hotspots for up and coming coral, their previous inhabitants swept away in the never ending tide.
Pathos-laden, maybe, but more or less true. As 2004 drove to a close, my dad had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and retired from our church of 11 years, and we prepared to move out of our house. Then--then!--the world went and flooded, hundreds of thousands of people died, and it seemed only natural to make it about me.
...
This time every year has me at a loss to try and figure out how to take stock of the year I just left. How do you measure a year? Tonight, I think it wise to start at January 1st and end with December 31st. In the first minute of 2006, I was sitting in a hot tub, and Sandi was saying, "Shit! Guys! My boob just fell out!" 525,000-some minutes passed. Peninsulas became islands. Hot tub Steve slowly changed. In the last minute of 2006 a me he would not recognize was in the Edward Jones Dome with 20,000 believers, singing, "He is good! All the time!" If I've learned one thing this year--ever, really--it's that he is. He is. But it was the longest year there ever was.
What can you do with a boy in a year? Coax him out of the closet; put him back in. Make him an activist; make him a recluse. Sanctify him, humiliate him, make him a renaissance improv-er. Give him a melody that never ends. Marry off his sister. Give him a desire for you. Devour his illusions. Teach him to have faith in himself, then destroy it. Edge that faith toward you instead, slowly, surely, like the receding tide. Remind him every day that you love him very much, and that you have sharp teeth.
At this end of things, I can't believe any of it happened, or that it could be so, so good. I had no idea I was allowed to love a God this much, and I still don't even know what love is. 2006 was long, sure, but sans lumiere? Not by a long shot.
In the first minute of 2007, I hugged Liz, Barbara, Anna, and an African believer I'd never spoken to before. The following year will be about the church, I promise you.
...
I feel obliged to tell you a bit about the 2006 Urbana Missions Conference. I've never seriously felt called to overseas missions, and this conference didn't change that, but it did give me a burden for Wheaton College. There's no less of a need here for ministry than at any of the secular schools where InterVarsity has a presence. People here are hurting and alone and afraid of each other just like everywhere else. I've always felt that, but I have a better idea for how to help now.
I learned something about the church at Urbana, as well. We spent a week listening to these giants of the faith: Ajith Fernando, Becky Pippert, Andy Crouch, Chad Thompson, Brenda Salter McNeill, Princess Zulu, Bono, Rick Warren. These people taught and inspired us from pulpits in rooms filled with hundreds of people, but we found that with a little effort (knock and the door will be opened, as it were) they were quite approachable. Anna left with Brenda Salter-McNeill's email address, and Chad Thompson invited me to a sleepover and/or to co-write his next book with him. before giving me a very long hug outside the Edward Jones Dome. Both of them, with luck, may visit our campus next year.
How does a thing like that happen? How do people like that happen, except for years (2006s and 2006s) of being made nothing, a slow whittling down of all their peninsulas? I say, "Be encouraged, Wheaton College, Steve!" Sanctification doesn't happen overnight. All you need is the desire, and God is very approachable. He's gonna move you like the never-ending tide.
| | |
|
