Zero Bldg.
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Come On! Feel the Illinoise!
We begin with Vince Guraldi. A stuttering rhythm section carries Sufjan Stevens' tenor through musings on the World's Columbian Expo.
Chicago, the New Age,
but what would Frank Lloyd Wright say?
Oh Columbia!
Amusement, or treasure,
these optimistic pleasures,
like the Ferris Wheel!
At two and a half minutes, a fanfare of horns gives way to the percussive piano line, changed now, more subdued but with no less energy. We reveal not one song, but two. Rhodes piano percolates through the chattering drums and a string section enters just in time to carry
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.
Before we can be paralized by the request, a chorus joins us, adding
Even with our heart of terror and the superstitious wearer
I am writing all alone, I am writing all alone
It's nothing short of heartbreaking. And just as that chorus asks us if we are writing from the heart, the pianos, drums, shakers and all else give way to the violins, swaying around the coda before settling like a falling leaf.
This is perhaps the greatest song in the universe for this one small moment.
We begin with Vince Guraldi. A stuttering rhythm section carries Sufjan Stevens' tenor through musings on the World's Columbian Expo.
Chicago, the New Age,
but what would Frank Lloyd Wright say?
Oh Columbia!
Amusement, or treasure,
these optimistic pleasures,
like the Ferris Wheel!
At two and a half minutes, a fanfare of horns gives way to the percussive piano line, changed now, more subdued but with no less energy. We reveal not one song, but two. Rhodes piano percolates through the chattering drums and a string section enters just in time to carry
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.
Before we can be paralized by the request, a chorus joins us, adding
Even with our heart of terror and the superstitious wearer
I am writing all alone, I am writing all alone
It's nothing short of heartbreaking. And just as that chorus asks us if we are writing from the heart, the pianos, drums, shakers and all else give way to the violins, swaying around the coda before settling like a falling leaf.
This is perhaps the greatest song in the universe for this one small moment.
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
Short List of Things I Did This Weekend
> Fed Crissee's cat. Helped myself to a black bean burger.
> Hung out with my old friend Marion, who I hadn't seen in...yeah, four years. God.
> Literally danced until I fell over at the Crucials first reunion gig.
> Woke up hungover--not from alcohol, but from having dehydrated the night before.
> Drove three hours to Fitzgerald to attend my friend Lizzie's wedding. Helped myself to the open bar.
> Hung out with Melissa. Talked wedding, said "I love you" a lot.
> Went swimming with Terri.
> Tried, not entirely unsuccessfully, to avoid the internet. Hello again.
> Fed Crissee's cat. Helped myself to a black bean burger.
> Hung out with my old friend Marion, who I hadn't seen in...yeah, four years. God.
> Literally danced until I fell over at the Crucials first reunion gig.
> Woke up hungover--not from alcohol, but from having dehydrated the night before.
> Drove three hours to Fitzgerald to attend my friend Lizzie's wedding. Helped myself to the open bar.
> Hung out with Melissa. Talked wedding, said "I love you" a lot.
> Went swimming with Terri.
> Tried, not entirely unsuccessfully, to avoid the internet. Hello again.
Friday, July 08, 2005
I just got back from what will remain one of the greatest shows I have ever seen.
PYLON @ the EARL. It was amazing. A. MAZING.
They sounded so great, giving two decades amiss. They tore through a set comprising everything they'd relearned (and some they didn't, so they claimed), even returning after their encore to play "a new old one," one of the first songs they ever wrote. I couldn't grab a setlist, so I don't know from titles. Just shy of two hours.
The scene behind me was beautiful; I've never seen the EARL dance like that. Turning around and blinking through my sweat-steamed glasses, I saw a whole crowd of young and old--first generation Athens fans and Atlanta indie kids alike--pogoing, shaking, flailing and dancing.
Adjectives are not potent enough to evoke what I'm feeling right now. I could say "monumental" or "fun" or "insane" but that won't bring you the music. It was time travel. For a couple hours tonight, it was 1979 again. Holy Shit.
Also: someone taped it! I'm emailing him right now.
