I have this Autumn chill. It’s a kind of warm chill that I always get at this time of year. I can hear that mouse in our apartment rattle along the varnished floorboards almost in time to Dylan’s incessant warnings of a colder time to come. This is a time of year when I end up having to stuff Sainsbury’s carrier bags inside my wellies to prevent my only good pair of socks becoming damp and unusable. There is that smell of Wandsworth park that is perfect for kicking broken and demoralised summer leaves into the next season’s fashion. We have only weeks of this brilliant sunshine soon to be followed by a freeze that hits the head as well as the heart. I savour the opportunity to submerge myself in the self-preserving warmth of the Autumn, it provides a good opportunity for reflection of the Summer before we plunge head first into the Winter months. I’ve always viewed Spring and Autumn as a kind of reprise from the other seasons, almost like natures home time.

The main point of this blog was to present to you a playlist, it’s a playlist that I feel is perfect for a reflective Autumn, get this up on Spotify and head down to Wandsworth Park to kick some leaves around. It did me a world of good. Please get the playlist here , and have a listen while you read the descriptions.

1. Todd Rundgren “Can We Still Be Friends?”

I went to see Vanilla Sky years ago with my sister, and despite the rest of the world discarding that movie as one of Tom Cruise’s worst ever films, we were both drawn into it’s tale, not for the sometimes over complex reality warping story, but for the elegant portrayal of human loss and love. This song is kind of off kilter but kicks in at a really poignant part of the film, makes me feel all edgy, but I totally imagine being all wrapped up in the park to this.

2. Kevin Devine “You’re Trailing Yourself”

This goes in totally just for the reason that I’ve had so many walks in the Autumn to this track after a drunken night out when you have made a fool of yourself. It’s so visual, a constant flow of images that snap together like puzzle pieces to make a stylised movie about a guy that just can’t help but say the wrong thing all the time.

3. The Beach Boys “Tears In The Morning”

This 1970 cut from the ‘Sunflower’ album breaks my heart every time I hear it. I know it’s lame that anything with a shuffle beat and a accordion makes me think of Autumn in Paris, but this song full drags you through the Le Bois de Vincennes by your gut. Sickly sweet harmonies parade around a desperate young voice. Classic break up music.

4. Elliott Smith – Any song you like really

It’s undeniable that Elliott Smith is pretty much the master of ‘on-your-own-songs’.

5. Local Natives “Wide Eyes”

Ok, this is a wild card, being a new band and all, but this album opener is a slice of melancholic praise is I have ever heard one. Sitting somewhere within some of the flash in the pan indie heavyweights at the moment (Vampire Weekend, Fleet Foxes, Band of Horses) and something a little more classic and lasting, this track is made for the movie of your life. It won’t outlast the decade, but is a perfect testament that there is some great music being put together out there.

6. Red House Painters “Grace Cathedral Park”

The ever-so-slow-and-openly-warming sound of Red House Painters is never one that fails to make me get totally choked up. A band that has gone on to influence countless literal miserablists (Mike Kinsella anyone?), with their open guitar tunings and one droning song styles (not a bad thing!), they open up their best box of tricks with this track that provides a fantastic opportunity to reflect on the season’s beginning.

7. Gene “London Can You Wait”

Heading back to my 90’s musical discovery days. Back when I begged my mum everyday for an Adidas jacket al a Damon Alban, my sister passed me “To See The Lights”. I guess this was way before I really understood the importance of The Smiths and Moz, and it must have filled that gap for me that exists in most boys. Also the guitar tone is really something, sounds like honey. A lament for a rainy leafy London.

8. Owen “I Woke Up Today”

I’m getting old. I have got grey spots in my beard and I’m getting a great Irish widow’s peak. This track from aforementioned Mike Kinsella (AKA Owen) is a homage to feeling that bit weather worn. The cascading acoustic guitar lines fit the falling leaves just right. I listen to this song at least once a week as it reminds me that I’m not the only one feeling so old these days.

9. Van Morrison “Cold Wind In August”

I love all those stories that you hear about Van Morrison. You know those ones about him storming off stages, being rude to people in the front row, banning drinking at his shows. They make this guy seem like such a mockery of himself that it’s often easy to forget that he is responsible for so many great songs. But this B-side to “Moondance” is a sickly smooth slow stomper of a track with those ever present New York brass sections and vocal quartet so note perfect they sound like a full choir. It may be a month too early, but it sums that feeling that colder times are just right round the corner. In my opinion, I hope he keeps making a fool of himself, and keeps that voice going for many years.

10. James Carr “The Dark End Of The Street”

Weddings. They are great, especially ones where you drink too much Guinness and slouch in a chair while the slow dances kick off. This song reminds me of those kinds of weddings for some reason. The Percy Sledge version has one of the best uses of a Hammond organ you will ever hear, it evokes so many memories for me, especially that ‘They’re gonna find us!’ bit. If I ever got married in the Autumn this would be the track I’d want to have a first dance to. His almost nasal vocal quality opens up a plethora of sentimental warmth that you can’t help but get sucked into the tale of hidden yet celebrated love. Man, I’m getting all mushy. A great song, and one that you need to have in your daily playlist.

11. Percy Sledge “A Whiter Shade of Pale”

Talking of the old PS and his ever present use of Hammond organs, my final track for the playlist is his version of Procol Harum’s legally bruised classic. Almost revamped into a solemn club version, this track still manages to control your insides with what is possibly one of the best opening lines ever in a song; “We skipped the light fandango, turning cartwheels across the floor, I was feeling kinda sea sick”. Timeless, refined and instantly gratifying, this version blows away the original. Haunting and yet subtly inviting.

Ok, so that was my Autumn walk playlist, I hope you enjoyed it!

Pop is cheesy, and so am I Lois.

Red House Painters – Have You Forgotten

This all started when I was walking downtown and realized something – I look at as many people as I can see.  As a basic human level of interaction, I think we all should all work at that.  I then proceeded to make fun of myself for how much that sounded like a poorly-derived and likely over-delivered Snow Patrol lyric (or something as equally unfortunate).  Cheese and corn are often a key part of pop music.  We all know pop is pop because we all feel alienated by the more difficult concepts we don’t understand.  But that shouldn’t be a reason to downplay its value.  It may not challenge one’s tastes, but it at least still connects people with something outside themselves.

Lyrics that are direct, barely veiled, with those feelings we’ve all felt.  The universality at the exact same time as the inherent intimacy.  The classic epic contrast.  That’s where the power comes from.  It’s where music carries the fire.

The  brooding voice, that heartfeltiveness, perhaps some warm nostalgia, and some self-indulgent creative confessions.  Welcome to pop music, self-indulgence.  The water is balmy.  In a way, self-indulgence and cheese go hand in hand – a drum solo, an Usher song with exaggerated swagger, a disingenuous declaration of love, and every song Motley Crue ever wrote.  Annoys some people at certain times, but comforts many.

Mark Kozelek and his offshoot groups (Sun Kil Moon, Red House Painters, solo) have been winning hearts and minds for a long time.  This song was my first introduction to the man.  Hope you enjoy, and explore more of him if you like his voice/vibe.  Lots of goodies.

Today I was going to do a post about the Muse album “The Origin of Symmetry,” in my opinion the last good thing they released, but now I’ve got a headache, so here’s a quiet song about a man’s love for his cat.

There’s something that shouldn’t work about Mark Kozelek and the various bands he’s part of (Sun Kil Moon, Red House Painters). If “slowcore” was ever a legitimate genre, then Kozelek was one of it’s only adherents. His songs are long stretches of road, flat and never changing. 15 minutes can go by with the same melody, the same ambling tempo, the same sorta-lovelorn-but-mostly-abstract lyrics. And Kozelek is doing nothing to sell it to you or make it more digestible; his voice is nice, but indistinct. He’s not trying to make things difficult, but he is making music squarely on his own terms. Somehow despite all that I’ve described, Kozelek’s song’s often work; they are affecting and listenable. I’m giving you probably the most accessible thing he’s written. And I love that one of his most genuine love songs was written about his cat.

“Wop-A-Din-Din” is from The Red House Painter’s last album Old Ramon.

*** Update: My wholehearted apologies to the Pond for usage of their Observatory image without prior permission sought, and many thanks for their understanding in allowing me continued usage.
** Update: Due to a sudden cancellation in GEYLANG HAPPY HOUR, FMN001 will air its pilot show on Sep 23!
* Update: The pilot show has been pushed back to Sep 30. Please tune in then!

Picture acknowledgement: The Pond

Free Music Now! Vol. 1: Observing the Observatory
Original broadcast: September 23, 2009 (Wed), 2230-0000h (GMT +8)

Presented by Mark Wong

Broadcast “live” from a cluttered bedroom on Balestier Road, Singapore, FMN! is an internet radio programme hosted on unpopular.radio. We pay special focus to music developments in Singapore and Southeast Asia.

“Free music” refers as much to the ideas of information flow and cultural dissemination as it does to musical forms which refuse to be shackled to genre orthodoxy. Inevitably, “Free Music NOW!” becomes clarion call for open ears and unfettered minds.

Vol. 1 features the music of The Observatory, a much lauded band from Singapore which has forged new musical pathways with every one of their releases – not to mention band members’ solo works and side projects. Besides showcasing the diverse musical footholds they tread, references will also be made to their diverse influences from prog-rock, pastoral folk, electro-acoustic improvisation, experimental electronica and jazz. FMN! pays tribute to a band that has been absolutely instrumental in widening sonic palettes in Singapore.

To tune in “live” to the show, please download any one of the following:
Link 1 | Link 2| Link 3
Then open the listen.pls file in your iTunes, Winamp or VLC media player during the broadcast time.

Live playlist:
(Reload this page during the “live” broadcast to see the playlist being generated!)

1. The Observatory – Ephemeron
2. Red House Painters – Grace Cathedral Park
3. Leslie Low – All Things New
4. Vashti Bunyan – Diamond Day
5. The Observatory – Blood Rising
6. Carla Bozulich – Prince of the World
7. Can – Future Days
8. Throb – Paraphunkernalia
9. Tortoise – Ten-day Interval (live)
10. The Observatory – Omicron
11. The Observatory – Deadheat
12. This Heat – Horizontal Hold
13. Shining – In The Kingdom Of Kitsch You Will Be A Monster
14. Burning Witch – Sacred Predictions
15. The Observatory – Decarn
16. The Observatory – The Last Grand Fallible Plan
17. Leslie Low – Prodigal Son (live)

subscribe:

Hello. It is raining here so let’s make it worse by watching an entire set of Red House Painters live in Washington DC in 1996!

Or, listen to a song off the upcoming Jesu EP! (Coincidentally it’s being released on Mark Kozelek’s label, Caldo Verde.)

OR you could just go here.

Is it just me or do certain phrases in conversation lead us to make connections with songs?

Someone was describing a difficult situation to me this week.  During our conversation they said the relationship they were describing was like two people conversing where one is English and one is Japanese.  I think the gist of what they were trying to convey to me was that the individuals in the relationship could talk in the same language, but one of them was not speaking in their native tongue.  The phrase made me think of a song instantly.  I turned to the lyrics after our conversation and it made a lot of sense…

“I went as far as losing sleep.
I went as far as messing up my life.
Unloving still strikes me different.
A million miles away from home
And fifteen from a payphone.

Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.

You’re ten years older.
We translate Japanese to English
And English to Japanese.

It’s not that simple.
This dictionary
Never has a word
For the way I’m feeling.
And it’s not that plain for me
Of a different God and moral.
What if I
Laid my head down on your stomach?
Or put my mouth to your hand?
I cannot translate
Japanese to English
Or English to Japanese.

What I had to say is unsaid.
What I had to do is undone.
And if it was done,
I’m sure it would have killed our hour
In the sun.

Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Where we sat lonely on the sand.
Above the water, the awful grey.
Our current from Japan
Didn’t sweep away.”

From “Japanese To English” by Red House Painters.

8/2/09

Great Lake Swimmers “Palmistry”

Nettwerk Records

I had two songs in my head this morning.  The first was another freakin’ Great Lake Swimmers song.  From the way this band keeps popping into my head, one might think I listen to nothing but this album on repeat all day long.  This is not the case.  I’ve never even really listened to it all the way through yet.  They just have these really whispery little vulnerable melodies that keep resurfacing.  One reason why it may work so well for me is the list of things about Great Lake Swimmers that remind me of Red House Painters (I am a HUGE Kozelek fan).  First of all, the band name is similar—not just in the sound and syllables of it, but the fact that both of the names describe an action, albeit a very simple or calming one.  The GLS guy’s voice doesn’t sound like Kozelek, but his melodies are somber and fragile like his.  GLS are not going to be changing the way anyone thinks about music, but they have already gotten a great response from this record, and there is definitely a reason for that.

Future of the Left “Throwing Bricks at Trains”

4AD Records

The other song I had in my head this morning is quite different.  Future of the Left is a post-hardcore band from the UK that combine an unshakable rhythm section akin to that of Jesus Lizard with an unflinching, unmatchable brand of whimsy that puts They Might Be Giants to shame.  All their songs seem to be taken from some lost or obscure short story, but in reality, they are all simply off-the-cuff tales of rigoddamndiculousness.  “Throwing Bricks from Trains”, for instance, recalls the tale of Reginald J. Trucksfield and the bowel movement that precedes his bloodless death.  Did I mention it’s catchy as hell?  My favorite part of this band is the rhythm section, but there’s plenty of other cool stuff going on as well.  Underneath the punk rock chanting of the lead singer are these little bits of background harmonies that add a lot of depth.  Sometimes it’s the little things that make all the difference.      

Played some trivia tonight.  There were some really good questions, some of which I knew, but most of which I did not.  The best music question was in a category called “Let’s Get Fucked Up And Die” and spoke of a punk rock singer who died of a heroin overdose, only to have his death foreshadowed by John Lennon’s.  I guessed G.G. Allin; turned out I was pretty off there.  But, no one else got it right except for one dude—this guy named Allen, who has co-hosted the trivia many times.  So, who was it folks? 

Non-music-related points of interest: Cleaned everything from the dog to the kitchen today.  Watched some more Mad Men.  Finally got around to arranging the office into an actual living space.  Did some laundry and stuff—Sundays are generally uneventful.

Sun Kil Moon – “Ghosts Of The Great Highway”

Twórczość Marka Kozelka zawsze będzie mi się kojarzyła z Red House Painters, a zwłaszcza z pierwszą z dwóch płyt zatytułowanych po prostu “Red House Painters”. Jeżeli kiedykolwiek zbliżył się w trakcie swojej kariery do poziomu tego krążka, to miało to miejsce właśnie na “Ghosts Of The Great Highway” projektu Sun Kil Moon. Zakładając (dość karkołomnie), że w przypadku muzyki alternatywnej okres między premierą płyty a jej reedycją może w jakimś stopniu świadczyć o jakości, to debiut Sun Kil Moon jest tego podręcznikowym przykładem. Album pierwotnie trafił do sklepów w 2003 roku, by już cztery lata później pojawić się na półkach w nowej wersji, wzbogaconej o dodatkowy krążek. Całość otwiera słodka piosenka zatytułowana “Glenn Tipton” (tak, wielbiciele seksualnie ambiwalentnych bogów metalu z Judas Priest – nazwisko w tytule nie jest przypadkowe. Sprawdźcie jednak finał tej opowieści ) i z każdą kolejną zanurzamy się w tę trochę zdegenerowaną wizję Ameryki, którą Kozelek przywołuje wskrzeszając postaci przedwcześnie zmarłych bokserów, a która kojarzy się przede wszystkim z gorzkim poczuciem przegranego życia i utraconych szans. Od strony muzycznej to trochę mniej ascetyczny songwriting, w zasadzie pozbawiony chwytliwych refrenów i efekciarskich studyjnych tricków, ale urzekający prostotą i siłą wyrazu. No i Kozelek jako wokalista w pięknym stylu kontynuuje styl Neila Younga. Szkoda tylko, że przez tych kilka lat, jakie minęły od premiery “Ghosts…” zatracił się gdzieś na amerykańskich pustkowiach.

Calexico – “Feast Of Wire”

Washed my face in the rivers of empire
made my bed from a cardboard crate
down in the city of quartz
no news, no new regrets
tossed a susan b. over my shoulder
and prayed it would rain and rain
submerge the whole western states
call it a last fair deal
with an american seal
and corporate hand shake

Moja ulubiona płyta Calexico i absolutny pewniak na osobistej liście top ten wszech czasów. Spokojna, lecz zaskakująco przebojowa muzyka, w równym stopniu alternatywna, co mainsteamowa. No i ciężko znaleźć lepszy kawałek na otwarcie albumu niż cytowany powyżej “Sunken Waltz”. Twórczość Calexico bywa nazywana “muzyką pogranicza” i jeżeli ktoś chciałby się dowiedzieć dlaczego, to “Feast Of Wire” jest idealną wskazówką. Dość powiedzieć, że tytułowy drut to nic innego jak granica między Meksykiem i USA. Wspomniany “Sunken Waltz”, podobnie jak kilka innych kawałków na tym krążku, opowiada o życiu lwiej części imigrantów po tej “lepszej” stronie Rio Grande. W tle przygrywa tęsknie akordeon, a rock rodem z pustyni bezboleśnie przeplata się z alt-country i tradycjami Mariachi. Spektakularna płyta, od pierwszego do ostatniego dźwięku.

Tori Amos – “Scarlet’s Walk”

Tori przemierza Stany Zjednoczone po 11 września 2001 roku. Podróż po kraju, który zwątpił w swoje ideały, podróż sentymentalna, bardzo osobista i (jak to zwykle w przypadku pani Amos bywa) bardzo kobieca. Szerokie spektrum bohaterów jej tekstów i ich przygód robi wrażenie – od dziewczyny, która w pogoni za lepszym życiem szuka szczęścia w porno biznesie, przez rdzennych Amerykanów, którzy nie potrafią znaleźć sobie miejsca na własnej ziemi, aż po poszukiwania Boga i sensu życia w blasku neonów Las Vegas. No i te refreny, których próżno szukać na jej dwóch ostatnich płytach. Album promował singel “A Sorta Fairytale”, który okazał się jednym z jej największych sukcesów komercyjnych w karierze. Sukcesów, które udało się osiągnąć bez większych kompromisów.

P.S. Mark Kozelek będzie jedną z gwiazd Off Festivalu w Mysłowicach. Na stronach serwisu Przekrój.pl można przeczytać wywiad, jaki przeprowadził z nim Mariusz Herma.

P.S. 2 Nowa płyta Tori Amos, “Abnormally Attracted To Sin”, jest już w sklepach, ale nijak pasuje do amerykańskiej tematyki tego wpisu i na dodatek zwyczajnie nuży. “Chciałam stworzyć skarb. Coś co byłoby czymś naprawdę wartościowym dla ludzi” – mówi artystka. Czyżby zapomniała, że to właśnie spod jej ręki wyszły takie perły, jak “Little Earthquakes” czy właśnie “Scarlet’s Walk”?

זה החלק השני.איפה הראשון? בקרוב…

הרעיון שלי כאן היה לשים מוסיקה שנחשפתי אליה בשנים העקרוניות של החיים – גילאים 13 עד 18. המיקסטייפ עלה לראשונה בבלוג של מורפלקסיס ועכשיו הוא כאן….
קבלו אותי!!!!!

1. Red House Painters – 24 (6:47)
בערך בגיל 13 הייתי צופה בתוכנית של אילן בן שחר בערוץ 2 הניסיוני ועונה שם על חידונים.זכיתי שם בהופעה של האלמן ברדרס ובאלבום הראשון של הפיינטרס.לא נותנים כזאת מוסיקה לילדים בגיל כזה.כנראה שזו הייתה הקלטת האחרונה בארגז הפרומואים על שולחן המערכת וכך היא נזרקה למעטפה והגיעה אלי.כנראה הלהקה הכי עצובה בעולם.

2. Eels – Beautiful Freak (3:33)
עוד שיר עצוב אבל עם טיפת תקווה.

3. Nine inch nails – Piggy (4:24)
בשנת 2007 אילן אלקיים הגשים לי חלום והביא את טרנט לארץ.אני מעריץ מאז שראיתי בסופר צ’אנל את “הד לייק אה הול” כשהוא היה חדש.אין ספק שנושא שלמדתי ממנו הוא כמות השכבות המטורפת שיש לו בכול שנייה בכול אלבום, ואז גם גיליתי שהוא פרפורמר מדהים.וסוף הקטע מנוגן לייב ע”י טרנט שהודה שזה הפעם היחידה שלא הצליח לתכנת את התופים .

4. PJ Harvey – Oh my lover (4:02)
עוד שיר עצוב.רוב האנשים לא מודעים לכמה פולי היא לא רק כותבת אלא גם גיטאריסטית מדהימה.והמתופף הוא פשוט בית ספר לאיך לנגן בצורה ריגשית עם טכניקה וחשיבה מאוד מוסיקאלית.

5. Pet Shop Boys – Rent (5:08)
כן, אני חולה עליהם!!! וגם על אירייז’ור!!! כתיבת פופ ברמה הגבוהה ביותר!!!
בגיל 10 לא הבנתי כלום מהשיר הזה והיום הוא עדיין מבלבל אותי.והסאונד שלו מושלם.
6. The Psychedelic Furs – President Gas (5:17)
עוד להקה שגיליתי ב”אוזן” חיפה בנבירה אינסופית במדפים.הרכב אלטרנטיבי עם גרוב? הם היו שם לפני כולכם.

7. Sam & Dave – Hold on I’m Coming (2:33)
לא משנה איך אגיד את זה – זה השיר הכי טוב בעיני בכול הזמנים.
הייס כבר סיים את המנגינה ופורטר צעק מתא השירותים “רגע – אני בא” – ככה עושים אגדות.
השיר הזה גילה לי את נפלאות הסול בחפיפה עם הסרט האחים בלוז בגיל 13.

8. Public image ltd – four enclosed walls (4:44)
תופים תופים ועוד קצת תופים.מרטין אטקינס קורע את עור התוף וג’ון ליידון במנטרות פסיכוטיות.איזה יופי.

9. U2 – Seconds (3:11)
פעם המנוולים האלה ידעו לרגש אותי. ביט משובח שבטח אדגום ביום מן הימים.

10. Ian Dury & The Blockheads – Sex And Drugs And Rock ‘N’ Roll (3:07)
ברור לא?

11. Van Der Graaf Generator – Theme One [Original Mix] (3:14)
כאן הסיפור מסתבך.בגיל 12 עשו לי גשר. אירוע די טראומתי.מהר מאוד ביססתי קשר עם הסייעת במרפאה, והיא ממרומי גילה (בטח היתה בת 27 אבל לי זה ניראה הזוי) הביאה לי תקליטים ש”זרוקים אצלי בבית”. השלל? סקורפיונס בטוקיו, קווין והאלבום הזה. זה אלבום הפרוג האמיתי הראשון ששמעתי, ורק אחריו את “אומה גומה” של פינק פלויד (גם סיפור הזוי לפעם אחרת).
שנים אח”כ אני מבין את הקשר ומנגן אותו פעמים רבות עם “אורגן דונר” של דיג’י שאדו.

12. The Who – Tommy’s Holiday Camp (0:57)
גיבור התופים שלי שר.

13. Tom Waits – Rain Dogs (2:57)
אחד משני השירים היחידים בעולם ששרתי על במה.אני חקיין של וויטס כמו שיש חקייני אלביס.אחרי הפעם ששרתי אותו יחד עם מר אסתרליס לא קירבתי מיקרופון לפה עד לקאמבק שלי כ”ג’ימי לוי” בתור אמ סי בהרכב ג’אנגל 3 שנים מאוחר יותר.

14. Jean-Francoius Michael – Coupable (2:51)
אחד השירים הראשונים של שבת בבוקר ברשת ג’ בתור ילדון זב חוטם.שמאלץ הוא חובה לכול חובב מוסיקה קשה בתור איזון נפשי

15. dEUS – Let’s Get Lost (4:23)
הרכב שכבש אותי בסערה בזמן אמת תודות למלאני ברסון.
16. The Jesus and Mary Chain – Just Like Honey (3:03)
עוד משהו שגילתי בנבירות בערמות תקליטים באוזן.

17. Portishead – Roads (5:09)
חורף 95,לפני הגיוס ואני מתחיל להבין איזה עולם אני עומד להפסיד כשאהיה בצבא.
התקליט הזה הוא עד היום האורים ותומים שלי באיך צריך להישמע אלבום.

18. Gong – Love Is How y Make It (3:28)
וגונג לסיום.
כי אין כמוהם בפריקיות ובנגינה.

reasonable quality download – להורדה באיכות סבירה

Very good quality download – להורדה באיכות גבוהה

Word of Mouth promotions are bringing Mark Kozelek back to play Andrew’s Lane Theatre in Dublin on Thursday 23 July. I did this email interview with him for the Event Guide last September (when he played as Sun Kil Moon) but somehow neglected to put it on the blog – so here it is finally! (Image taken from www.markkozelek.com)

Rock n’Roll Singer

By Aoife Barry

San Francisco- based Mark Kozelek is well known for being the frontman of the Red House Painters, who parted ways in 1998. After they disbanded, he went solo, going on to form Sun Kil Moon and creating three stunning albums under that moniker –‘Ghosts of the Great Highway’, the Modest Mouse covers album ‘Tiny Cities’, 2008’s ‘April’. In May of this year he released ‘Mark Kozelek – Lost Verses Live‘. His intimate style, confessional lyrics and unsentimental frankness mark him out as one of America’s most uncompromisingly unique musicians. As well as his musical exploits, he also works as a producer for both his own and other band’s albums (including Retribution Gospel Choir and Jesu), and dabbles in acting. Aoife Barry spoke to him about his impending Irish tour.

Hi Mark – you’re about to return to Ireland for another gig. Does Ireland hold any special memories for you?

Definitely. I’ve had a lot of fun gigs at Whelan’s. I enjoyed my last trip to Ireland, where I got outside of Dublin, and went to a few other cities. It was peaceful, riding the train around. And I always manage to meet nice people in Ireland.

Can you tell me about deciding to release ‘7 Songs Belfast’? What made those performances so special for you last year?

I listened back to a few recordings from that tour. Oddly, that one had the best overall sound and balance. The performance was calm, the audience respectful and quiet. I say oddly, because we nearly missed the gig. We miscalculated the time between Galway and Belfast, barely got a soundcheck. Not a huge deal of a gig – small crowd, but nice, and the recording is ok.

Do you prefer to have a stripped-down band when touring?

I’ve never done anything elaborate. A 4 piece band suits me. I wish I could afford a bigger crew, hire a soundman, but as far as the band, I like to keep it simple.

When you’re touring, are you quite specific about the venues you play at? Is there a certain sort of venue you prefer?

There didn’t used to be. But I’m getting more needy as I get older. I don’t like venues without a backstage area. I need a room to relax, and I prefer seated crowds to standing, for the most part. The cell phone stuff drives me nuts. Some people get excited, I guess, but don’t have any respect. Kids are sort of programmed to be annoying these days, and seated helps diminish that.

You recently auctioned off some of your guitars for the Midwest Flood Auction. Can you tell me about how this came about?

I did this for the Katrina hurricane also. I have more guitars than I need, and it’s not a big deal to auction some off, when the cause is right. We all have to let go of our possessions eventually, so why not give some stuff away early.

As a songwriter, do you think people analyse your songs too much? That they should just take them as they are and not analyse every aspect of them?

People, for the most part, don’t know how to read poetry. Some girls came up to me after a show recently and said “Happy Father’s Day!”, then I was in Japan, and a journalist asked me about my daughter. In the song ‘Harper Road’, there is the line “my blood runs through my only daughter”, but I don’t have a daughter – and Johnny cash never shot a man in Reno, nor did he spend any time in Folsom. I think people look at words too literally sometimes. I’ve personally never cared to explore what inspires a writer’s lyrics. I make my own connections and conclusions.

In the same vein, you are a very honest writer, writing about people and places and events in your life quite candidly – do people sometimes want to probe deeper into what you write about, and how does that make you feel?

Some people have time on their hands, I guess. I write songs, play them, and find my hotel afterwards. But I can’t help what people project onto me. I mean, I feel flattered if someone compliments me, but I’m not going to stand there for an hour and talk to some drunk guy who tells me my music changed his life.

What is your approach to working in the studio? Have you become more relaxed or more of a perfectionist over time?

A little of both, I’m a perfectionist, but have a relaxed way of getting what I want now. I’ve learned a lot along the way, and have found easier ways to get things right in the studio.

Can you tell me about working on the Retribution Gospel Choir debut album? Alan has said you ‘convinced’ them to let you produce the album; was there some reticence – not necessarily in a negative way – there even though you were a founding member?

I found that word odd, when he showed me the bio, but never questioned it. I mentioned to Eric, the drummer, that I’d like to produce RGC, and Alan called me up and said to book some time. I’ve always liked Alan, and had a great time working with him and the band. By the way, I’m not a founding member of RGC. I joined them for a portion of a tour once, but they were a band before I played guitar on that tour.

Does having your own Caldo Verde record label take some of the stress out of releasing a record? That you are not at the mercy of ‘the machine’; that you have complete control over what goes on?

There’s just a lot of unpleasantness to deal with when you’re on a label. Employees come and go, they have the power to drop you at any time, they lose interest in you when some new guy comes along, and they don’t honour contracts. I’d just had enough, and decided to do it myself. I enjoy it a lot.

Finally, do you have anything specific you want to achieve in the New Year – any new projects you will be working on?

I’m putting out an EP for the band Jesu later in the year. I love Justin’s music, and look forward to that.

Mark Kozelek plays Andrew’s Lane Theatre, Dublin on Thursday 23rd July. 8pm. €20
Tickets €20 excl. booking fee from WAV Box-Office ( Lo-Call 1890 200 078 ), City Discs, Plugd Records, Cork, www.tickets.ie, Ticketmaster outlets nationwide.

www.markkozelek.com /

July 2009. Everything is gray and steaming. The new house is a particularly unforgiving gray, an angular stain of dull shadow at street’s edge. I put on Sun Kil Moon’s April, the grooves of which are gray marble, which initially eke out some acoustic guitar ghosts both sweet and unassuming. The street outside shimmers enough that I can convince myself it is not really there. It is probably not really there. It’s just senseless black sea. Mark Kozelek’s voice enters woozy and defeated as though it had lost a long night’s fight against alcoholism and human nature. I nod in recognition.

November 2004. 1.5 years after I left Canada and wondered obsessively where I could step next that wouldn’t feel like needles.¹

Still operating beneath the long bruise of my first failed relationship,² I found a copy of Sun Kil Moon’s Ghosts of the Great Highway at the West Charleston Library.³ I was inspired by the album’s name,⁴ a few attention-roping song titles⁵ and the cover, which reminded me of autumn,⁶ to drag myself to the counter and check it out.⁷

(LOST DATA.)

ember 2006 I had decided at some point that “San Geronimo” on Ocean Beach, despite its wistful memories filled with warmth and light, was about someone dead and I think that’s where it started, when I watched the sky grow long pink fingers with which to grab me by the neck and tighten and I had no recognition of nor felt any pleasant emotion for any surrounding bodies, feeling as though I had emptied myself into someone else just to for a moment shut out the blackness that was omnipresent and had invaded my joints so walking and gesturing and all those essential, tiny movements that comprise a day were now diseased and screaming and too painful to bear, why can’t these memories of San Geronimo just hold onto their own sweetness, why must they carry your dead body with them, I had just wanted to shut all of that out not yet knowing that the emptiness, a kind of pure emptiness where you are completely conscious of a body requiring everything but having nothing and lacking the ability to acquire any marginally satisfying thing, that emptiness was much much worse, for it swallowed everything inside, even the blackness, until you were a mere mass of bone and endless encroaching spac

(REDACTED.)

April 2002. Hey, have you guys heard that new Outkast single? It’s the only hip-hop I actually like. Real hip-hop, you know.

You should listen to the Red House Painters.

RED HOUSE PAINTERS: “ALL MIXED UP”

December 2003. Dear Mark Kozelek,

Three years from now I will listen to Songs from a Blue Guitar and within its stretch of desert and wet newspaper and Yes covers I will feel quite justified in my instability but I would like to address something now as I will be too far gone to address it then. The answer to the question you pose in “Have You Forgotten,” which, in case you’ve forgotten, is, “Have you forgotten how to love yourself?”—the answer to that is, no, no I have not, because there was nothing to forget in the first place. I hope the designated target of your inquiry feels equally insulted.

Thanks for the music.

Sincerely

(REDACTED.)

July 2009. I remember when “Medicine Bottle” reflected far more of my life than I was comfortable with at the time (excerpt: “August 2007 (SCREAMING AND HEMORRHAGING)”). It’s actually sweet to remember, to have so much blood-filled experience contained in one music. So many wounds reopened by a small string of records, wounds given fresh life by folk unencumbered by anything resembling pace, produced to reflect seemingly-abandoned lots of the soul where pain is slow-cooked and freebased. Thankfully, now the wounds only really want air. They used to want to make the rest of the body look like them. All infected, inverted skin.

I look to the street and see strange human blurs pass into the air.

April 2002. Who the hell are the Red House Painters?

They are a pattern. They are who you will turn to when there is nothing left to turn to, musically, emotionally. They will be your soft blue center.

You people make no fucking sense whatsoever.

—————————————————————————————————-

1. Note: For a time, everything did feel like needles.

2. And also first relationship ever, which fostered in me a sparkling opinion of all future relationships.

3. Located conveniently near the Community College of Southern Nevada—West Charleston campus, designed by some troubled soul who lost all subtlety in a tragic accident likely involving head-injury, as all the buildings brandish colors offensively bright enough to earn the adjective “neon,” the “D” building home to a particularly breakdown-inducing pink.

4. A title like Ghosts of the Great Highway communicates to you in a very specific way if you are a 17-year-old aspiring poet given to emotional nuclear winters.

5. “Glen Tipton,” “Carry Me Ohio,” “Lily and Parrots,” the last of which struck me odd grammatically to the point where I had unconsciously inserted a “the” in several initial readings, but I now understand must be either the end of a list (“Milk, eggs, lily and parrots”) or a proper noun, in which case the concept of Lily is simply not divorceable from the concept of Parrots (possibly her parrots) and she must be addressed as such at all times, for they move as one. Etc.

6. Which in Las Vegas is a perverse sort of brown-yellow influenced by the dichromatic dead leaves piled at every horizon.

7. The library staff were very familiar with me by that point, as the library was the only structure besides home and in class where I felt at all together and when any or all of these structures were removed I became invaded by sadness and was suddenly unable to hold sane conversations with other human beings, all attempts at which would end with me crying until entirely emptied of water and thought.

8. Have you forgotten how to love yourself?

Det finnes hundrevis, sikkert tusenvis, av ufortjent oversette band der ute. Jeg vil slå et slag for noen av dem, og først ut er slowcorepionerene Idaho.

Med låtskriver, gitarist og vokalist Jeff Martin i front, bør Idaho sjekkes ut av alle med interesse for tristesseband som American Music Club og Mark Eitzel, Red House Painters og Mark Kozelek, Low og ikke minst Codeine – det andre store bandet innen scenen som en kort tid ble døpt slowcore (og sadcore).

Idahos sterkeste album er nok Three Sheets to the Wind (1996), og jeg gjenoppdaget nettopp bandet da jeg dumpet over 2005s Lone Gunman på salg – en plate jeg ikke en gang visste eksisterte. Ikke er de på Spotify en gang, men unntak av én låt på en Low-hyllestplate.

Jeg har bare anmeldt Idaho én gang, og her er min mening om Hearts of Palm fra 2000.

Idaho
Hearts of Palm
Idaho Music/Voices of Wonder 2000
5/6

“Happy, happy, happy times” synger Jeff Martin på Idahos femte album siden han stiftet gruppa i 1991. Men glede er ikke det første ordet som slår en i møte med Idahos nådeløst melankolske og lavmælte musikk.

Sammen med Codeine erIdaho eksponenter for det som ble døpt ”slowcore”: Triste sanger som fikk Nick Drake til å framstå som standupkomiker, spilt i et tempo som om det var snegler som dasket trommeskinnene og spilte de harde, seige gitarriffene.  Men plater som Codeines The White Birch og Idahos Three Sheets To The Wind viste at det gikk an å både rocke og røre lytterne med treghet og ømhet.

Besetningen i Idaho har variert sterkt, fra duo, soloprosjekt og fullt band – hele tiden med Martin i front. Etter Three Sheets… gikk bandet i oppløsning på grunn av heftig krangling, men i dag er Idaho befestet som en duo bestående av Martin og gitarist Dan Seta. Kanskje derfor er Hearts of Palm en langt mer nedtonet og pianodominert plate enn tidligere.

Og dette er en sterk utgivelse, der Martins noe ordinære stemme like fullt bærer de såre låtene fram. ”To Be The One” og tittellåta overbeviser med var skjønnhet og et rikt, men samtidig nakent lydbilde. Og i ”Evolution Is Gold” blir det hele så tilbakelent og forsiktig at gutta nesten helt slutter å spille. Tar du med at spor som nettopp ”Happy Times” viser at Martin fortsatt kan rocke på sitt seige, særegne vis, blir konklusjonen en finfin musikkopplevelse – selv om den på langt nær vil revolusjonere noe som helst.

351. Red House Painters – Down Colorful Hill

352. Red House Painters – “Bergochdalbanan”

353. Red House Painters – Ocean Beach

Ibland kan min inkonsekvens besvära mig själv till och med. I förförra inlägget skrev jag bland annat om en Radioheadskiva och konstaterade att jag tyckte att Radiohead var pretenstiösa. Mark Kozelek, mannen bakom Red House Painters, måste nog också karakteriseras som pretentiös men honom har jag tagit till mig. Att förklara en sådan sak är lika svårt som att försöka förklara varför man blir kär i en viss person, men nog är det så att det finns olika sätt att vara pretentiös på och framför allt så påminner Red House Painters musik inte ett dugg om Radioheads.

Jag har skrivit om min tjejkompis som vid 90-talets mitt försåg mig med helt enastående blandband förut. På ett av dessa suveräna band hade hon spelat in Medicine Bottle och Summer Dress av Red House Painters. Jag föll direkt, det passade mig som en smäck vid den tidpunkten. Deppig musik om olycklig kärlek var något som jag verkligen gick igång på när jag var i tjugoårsåldern och RHP spelade just det. Ryktet sade att alla deras låtar handlade om en och samma tjej – Katy, som var en f.d. flickvän till Mark Kozelek (jag tror hon dog) och en sådan sak gjorde det hela ännu bättre enligt mitt sätt att se på det då.

I inlägget om Mark Kozeleks soloskiva (se länk ovan) skrev jag att han är en av mina favoritröster. Det håller jag fast vid idag, men det ligger en hel del i vad en vän sade. Han tyckte att lyssna på honom är att färdas nästan femton år tillbaka i tiden, till ett studentrum och all den ångest som hemsökte en på den tiden, vilket egentligen inte är någon trevlig upplevelse. Det gäller att försöka undvika den där tidsresan och försöka njuta, för det är underbart vacker musik. Down Colorful Hill och andra skivan, ofta kallad Bergochdalbanan eftersom det är en sådan på omslaget, är de bästa. Ocean Beach skiljer sig lite, den är mer arrangerad och melodiös, och i mitt tycke sämre än de andra två. Summer Dress är dock en smärtsamt vacker låt som finns med på just den skivan. Annars är Medicine Bottle min favorit. Den var med på blandbandet jag fick som sagt, och berörde mig så djupt att känslan sitter kvar än när jag hör den.

354. Lou Reed – Transformer

355. Lou Reed – New York

Jag har ingen aning om när jag köpte Transformer, men jag kommer ihåg att när jag gjorde det blev jag euforisk. Den är helt enkelt asbra. Jag hade lyssnat på Velvet Underground ett antal år så givetvis var jag nyfiken på vad Lou Reed hade åstadkommit solo. Han har dock ett rykte om sig att vara lite svår, särskilt som person men även musikmässigt. Min misstanke var att hans produktion nog var rätt så ojämn. Ett getöga på låtlistan på Transformer kan nog skingra tvivlen hos de flesta. Här finns både Perfect Day och Walk on the Wild Side med och dessutom Satellite of Love och Vicious. Övriga låtar är inte dåliga de heller. Transformer finns inte med på Pops hundrabästalista och det tycker jag är skandal. Jag skulle placera den bland de tjugofem bästa.

Lika bra som Transformer är, lika dålig är New York. Min misstanke om Lou Reeds skiftande kvalitet var högst befogad och jag är glad att jag inte köpte New York först för då hade jag kanske inte köpt Transformer. New York ger knappast mersmak. Lou Reed pratsjunger låtar som är så tråkiga att jag knappt orkat lyssna igenom hela skivan någon gång. Möjligen skulle någon form av värde bli tydligt om jag gav skivan mer tid. Jag kan ju tillägga att New York av många anses vara Lou Reeds höjdpunkt som soloartist. Men jag tvivlar på att mer tid skulle få mig att ändra mitt omdöme så radikalt.

Här kan ni lyssna på ett urval.

—————-
Now playing: Voxtrot – Trepanation Party
via FoxyTunes

A veces, en noches como ésta en la que la que al amparo de un café escribo mi columna, trato de recordar cuál fue la primera música que escuché con plena consciencia. Dejo de teclear, miro el aro de luz que arroja la lámpara sobre el escritorio mientras mi viejo aparato Onkyo inunda el estudio con el tenue y sucio sonido de un viejo disco de Ella Fitzgerald. Trato de poner orden en la memoria y discernir sobre aquella primera melodía elegida, aquella que no fue producto de una exposición accidental, que no salió sin mayor remedio de un juguete, de las setenteras estaciones de amplitud modulada que acostumbraba mi madre, ni de las aburridas grabaciones de zarzuela que se escapaban como un rumor desde el despacho de mi padre.

Trato de recordar lo que debió haber sucedido hace más de tres décadas. Casi con toda seguridad debió tratarse de un acetato de 33 revoluciones perteneciente a mi papá. Hasta ahí terminan las certezas. En la casa en la que transcurrió mi infancia había discos y libros, quizá una cantidad considerable de ellos, aunque el número exacto es difícil de determinar, pues uno tiende a magnificar los recuerdos de la niñez y todo lo que tiene que ver con aquellos días parece poseer una esencia amplificada y pura. Todo resulta tan grande: muebles y objetos cobran dimensiones sobrehumanas, el tiempo es infinito y la geografía personal (construida a partir de las pocas calles en las que uno se mueve cuando es niño) parece poseer fronteras infranqueables. Es probable que, después de todo, sólo fueran unas docenas de acetatos, algunas cuantas cintas contenidas en cajas de zapatos, unos pocos libros de Dashiell Hammett, Jorge Luis Borges, Juan Rulfo y Julio Verne sembrados entre montones de ejemplares de viejas ediciones de Selecciones del Reader Digest y la revista Contenido. En todo caso, se trataba de la información justa para mantenerme ocupado e iniciar la consabida educación sentimental de cualquier niño lo suficientemente curioso como para ocupar el tiempo en algo más que la televisión, pero no menos introvertido como para preferir su pequeño universo interior a las calles. Ante todo, aquella colección era heterogénea, construida sin ningún sentido aparente, construida por un hombre común que pasaba diez o doce horas diarias trabajando para mantener a su familia y que carecía de falsas pretensiones de melómano y lector. En un maltratado librero de madera cohabitaban las sinfonías de Beethoven, al lado de discos de José Alfredo Jiménez, Javier Solís, los Beatles, Ray Coniff, Paul Anka y los Platters. Poco espacio para alguna joya extraordinaria.

A los cuatro años, yo ya pasaba muchas tardes desenfundando con absoluta decisión discos por el simple placer de escucharlos en una vieja consola Philco. Uno tras otro desfilaban por mis manos y oídos, y la tarde nunca era suficiente, y de a poco la penumbra se iba apoderando de la estancia hasta que mi madre encendía la luz y preguntaba si no me había ya aburrido de escuchar tanta música. Los recuerdos se confunden. Vagas imágenes de grabaciones de Nat King Cole, Credence Clear Water Revival, los Beach Boys y Frank Sinatra desfilan nebulosas como fotografías sin fijador. Eso es todo. Probablemente entre alguno de esos discos esté la primera melodía elegida. En el entendido de que haya sido yo en realidad quien la escogiera. Tal vez, en efecto, aquello que termina por moldear nuestra personalidad es en realidad producto de un simple accidente. En ocasiones suelo pensar que con la música sucede lo mismo que con los libros, con los amigos y las mujeres que amamos: uno tiene la falsa ilusión de que se les elige, pero quizá son estos afectos que nos esperan emboscados, a la vuelta de la esquina, bajo la  falsa forma de un encuentro casual. Pienso en todos aquellos libros, discos, amistades y amores que me han marcado… todos inesperados, arrastrados a las costas de mi existencia por engranajes invisibles de los que nada comprendo.

Elegidos o no, en cuanto fui creciendo, poco a poco fueron llegando los primeros acetatos y cintas de mi propiedad, muchos de los cuales adquirí en supermercados que hoy ya ni siquiera existen. Siempre preferí los discos sobre los juguetes. Y mis padres generalmente accedieron a esos caprichos infantiles como una forma de recompensar mis buenas notas en la escuela primaria. Así fue como se conformó mi primera colección plagada de grabaciones de grupos que hoy suenan en las estaciones de catálogo y sólo me producen aburrimiento: bandas sesenteras y setenteras, rancios grupos de rock progresivo y new wave. Luego llegó la adolescencia y con ella la escuela preparatoria, abarrotada de otros muchachos que compartían la misma enfermedad que yo y que después descubriríamos tenía por nombre científico melomanía. Aún conservo entre aquellos que nos conocimos bajo el pretexto de la música a algunos de mis más entrañables amigos. Con ellos realicé la inolvidable primera visita al Tianguis del Chopo (en la que no compré un disco de rock sino uno del Kronos Quartet) y asistí a los primeros conciertos (Bob Dylan, The Cure, Depeche Mode, Peter Gabriel con todo y Sinead O’Connor, His Name is a Live, los Legendary Pink Dots, entre muchos otros). La colección aumentó merced a montones de cintas grabadas con pésima calidad, cintas que se intercambiaban hasta el cansancio y se copiaban una y otra vez, cintas que se escuchaban de principio a fin en aparatosos armatostes cuya única gracia era ser auto-reversibles. Cualquiera que tuviera 500 de ellas era digno de respeto, pero había quienes poseían 1,000 o, incluso, 1,500. Paulatinamente llegarían el disco compacto y el láser disc. La colección fue transitado por diversos formatos, algunos de ellos prácticamente ya extintos, hasta llegar al dvd y el audio comprimido. La radio hizo su parte: primero en la vieja banda de amplitud modulada, con su peculiar sonido monoaural, la estática repentina y los locutores cabineros. Después una época casi mítica de frecuencia modulada, una época en la que voces como Martín Hernández, Jordi Soler y Luis Gerardo Salas, entre muchos otros, compartían con miles de adolescentes y jóvenes la música que ellos mismos estaban descubriendo con emoción.

Alguna vez Roberto Bolaño dijo que para el escritor de verdad la única patria es su biblioteca, una biblioteca que pude estar en estanterías o dentro de la memoria. Fervientemente creo que lo mismo le ocurre al melómano. La totalidad de esas primeras cintas y muchos de los discos se han ido perdiendo en rupturas amorosas y mudanzas, pero aquellas grabaciones entrañables permanecen inalterables en mi memoria. Nunca olvidaré mi primer Miles Davis, mi primer Mahler, mi primer Steve Reich, mi primer Cocteau Twins o Red House Painters.

Pienso en la diversidad que siempre ha distinguido mis preferencias musicales. A lo largo de más de tres décadas, he transitado del rock de los años setenta y ochenta (escuchado nocturnas programaciones de extintas estaciones de amplitud modulada) a los añorados y caros discos importados de la 4AD (que llegaban a la Ciudad de México a cuentagotas durante los últimos años de la década de los 80), del pop de letras poéticas a la free impro, de las músicas populares como el bolero, el tango y la bosanova a los distintos periodos de la música culta, del beep bop y el cool jazz a los diversos géneros de la escena electrónica.

El disco de Ella Fitzgerald se ha terminado. Escucho el silencio. Transcurren largos segundos de quietud. Pienso en tomar otro acetato del librero e insertarlo en el plato del tornamesa. Pienso que quizá estas líneas suenen extrañas, casi incomprensibles para aquellos que nacieron en la época de la información digital, para aquellos que tienen diez mil discos registrados en la base de datos de su I tunes. Yo mismo tengo un disco duro externo de un Terabyte con más de 20 mil discos listos para sonar, pero aún sigo extrañando aquellos tiempos en los que si se quería terminar de escuchar la Segunda Sinfonía de Sibelius, había que levantarse del sillón, caminar hasta el tocadiscos y darle vuelta al ele pe. Me decido por una grabación de Charlie Parker, mientras la saco de la funda, aún sigo preguntándome cuál habrá sido el primer disco que elegí con plena consciencia.

Columna publicada en la edición de junio de 2009 de Music Life Magazine

As those who come to this page regularly will notice, we have changed up our posting schedules. Like Andy said a few days ago, I will most likely be putting my 1000 Minutes posts up on Fridays going forward while he will be taking over Tuesdays, in turn forcing the Smörgåsbord to move to Wednesdays. We have been a little lax in our posts the last week or so but we’ll try to get back on track after this weekend. Anyways, on to my next batch of songs.

15. Dinosaur Jr. – Feel the Pain mp3 from Without A Sound (4:18) [Time Remaining: 939:39]

When looking over my list thus far, I ultimately decided it was time to add an older favorite that I’ve loved since I was a kid. I owe my love for the song entirely to BER. In fact my little brother, who was a mere four years old when this song was released, loves this song now. So we both owe it to the radio station and, of course, this being a great song.

16. Red House Painters – Have You Forgotten mp3 from the Vanilla Sky OST (5:29) [Time Remaining: 934:10]

At least amongst my friends, and perhaps all throughout Kozelek fan-dom, there will be a divergence of opinion over which version of this song is better. For those unaware, the original version is off Songs For A Blue Guitar and the arrangement is completely different. Andy advised me he doesn’t like this version and attempted to persuade me that I was wrong. (The fact we are both so passionate about this of all things should tell you why we write a music blog in case you didn’t know by now.) Considering the fact the both of us feel so strongly about different versions should tell you how the great the song is. In my opinion both are incredible, but when I listen to this version it absolutely kills me every time. I don’t care that it is reworked and from a Tom Cruise film. It resonates more with me because of the pace and the aching guitars.

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“Had a light one night in the dark.
It won’t show you too much of the future.
Let it go.
Let it fall behind.
I would never call on human nature.”

From “Panic On” by Madder Rose.

I love my iPod.  I love the way the shuffle function often catches me by surprise and transports me instantly back in time to a period when a particular song came to mean something.  Sign posts, stepping stones and mile stones.  Memories and emotions are re-awoken in seconds.

Sometimes my shuffle function seems to have a mind of its own as if willing me to rediscover an album that has been gathering dust on my shelf for far too long.  This week I listened to the wonderful “Panic On” album by Madder Rose in its entirety for the first time in several years.  I remember discovering it back in 1994 through airplay by John Peel and the odd track appearing on a steady stream of compilation tapes my friend Craig B would send me.  The album still sounds every bit as fantastic today.

Had the iPod existed back in ‘94, I guess most played would have included:  Sugar; Pixies; Dinosaur Jr; Teenage Fanclub; Red House Painters; Smashing Pumpkins; The Breeders; The Tinglies; home recorded demos of Craig B’s; and Grant Lee Buffalo. 

I’ve attached a You Tube clip below of a song that still means a lot to me.  A monument or testament I can look back to and see I have happily journeyed with even if I couldn’t have seen much of the future back then.

Slowcore classic.

Mark Kozelek, former frontman of Red House Painters and Sun Kil Moon, is releasing his third live album, Mark Kozelek: Lost Verses – Live, on May 12 through Caldo Verde Records. The music from the CD was recorded in 2007 and 2008 while Kozelek was on tour with the Red House Painters’s Phil Carney and Sun Kil Moon.

AND Kozlek also has another LIVE album titled Find Me Ruben Olivares, Live in Spain, which is available on April 1.  This cd is a limited edition that is free when you purchase something from the Caldo Verde website…which is his record label if you weren’t paying attention earlier.

There is undeniable magic in the creation of a classic song, and masters of the craft, songwriters like Bob Dylan, Jeff Tweedy and Neil Young, receive their much deserved respect. The art of re-imagining another writer’s song requires a creativity that, while less appreciated, is uniquely magical.

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Cover songs sometimes aim to retool the originals sonically through production or harmonically by altering the chord structure or melody. This is the simplest and most accessible approach…Sometimes performers take a song popular among fans of one genre and introduce it to new fans of a different genre. Genre-hopping transfers of success happen all the time between Pop and Country (not that there’s really much of a difference anymore.) This is the most financially profitable approach.

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The most enduring and effective covers, though, seem to be born out of a performer identifying a subtle beauty or character that no one, not even the writer, was able to hear and breathing new life and meaning into it.

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These are the covers, contrasted with their seed, that I want to highlight in this ongoing category- versions that capture something so unique that listeners more closely connect and relate to them than the originals…

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The first song “Ocean Breathes Salty” was written by Isaac Brock of Modest Mouse and originally appeared on their brilliant 2004 album Good News for People who Love Bad News. Indie Rock renaissance man Mark Kozalek, the sole member of Sun Kil Moon, released the risky Tiny Cities that consisted entirely of his interpretations of relatively obscure Modest Mouse songs.

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Removing the songs from the wild, agitated hands of Modest Mouse, Kozalek uncovered these extraordinary abstract and dare I say…tender songs that rarely trace back to their source. Kozalek, I think, could put music to a phonebook and make it beautiful and melancholy, but his imaginative work on Tiny Cities is quite an accomplishment nonetheless. Which version do you all like the most? Do tell…Enjoy!

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04-ocean-breathes-salty1	11-ocean-breathes-salty

When you click on the links for the songs, you’ll be taken to another page. Click the link again!

 

Your body may be gone, I’m gonna carry you in.
In my head, in my heart, in my soul.
And maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll both live again.
Well I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Don’t think so.
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Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you get.
You get away from me. You get away from me.
Collected my belongings and I left the jail.
Well thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell.
I had to think awhile. I had to think awhile.
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The ocean breathes salty, won’t you carry it in?
In your head, in your mouth, in your soul.
And maybe we’ll get lucky and we’ll both grow old.
Well I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I hope so.
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Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you get.
You get away from me. (You get away from me) You get away from me.
Collected my belongings and I left the jail.
Well thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell.
I had to think awhile. (I had to think awhile) I had to think awhile.
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Well that is that and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw and I’ll tell you what you missed,
when the ocean met the sky. (You missed, you missed)
You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye. (You missed)
When the earth folded in on itself. (You missed)
And said “Good luck, for your sake I hope heaven and hell (You missed, you missed)
are really there, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.” (You missed, you missed)
You wasted life, why wouldn’t you waste death? (You missed, you missed)
You wasted life, why wouldn’t you waste death?
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The ocean breathes salty, won’t you carry it in?
In your head, in your mouth, in your soul.
The more we move ahead the more we’re stuck in rewind.
Well I don’t mind. I don’t mind. How the hell could I mind?
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Well that is that and this is this.
You tell me what you want and I’ll tell you what you get.
You get away from me. (You get away from me) You get away from me.
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Well that is that and this is this.
Will you tell me what you saw and I’ll tell you what you missed,
when the ocean met the sky. (You missed, you missed)
You wasted life, why wouldn’t you waste the afterlife?