More in the Jazz Vein

I don't know if it's all the stormy weather, but it seems to suit my mood these days. 

This one I wrote listening to "Lady In Blue" off of Tori Amos's New Album, Abnormally Attracted to Sin.  It's not a bad record. Better, in my opinion, than her last two, as a whole (although if I had my way as an editor I would cut all three to pieces, leave out all the fluff and crap [Tori Amos I will never forgive you or your producers for the abomination that is Posse Bonus. For Shame, Madam.] and make the one bangin', award winning album that exists now in brief diamonds amongst the detritus.) 

Anyway, one such diamond is "Lady In Blue," a haunting torch piece with a surprising (and refreshing) guitar solo that makes up the last 2 minutes of the 7+ minute song. It makes me think of sad old Movie Stars, back when they were Movie Stars and not Celebrities. Some Leggy Dame in Tights from a Noir Picture with a Sinatra soundtrack. 

On a rainy day, with a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes, I got this little poem lodged in between my ears and head. Enjoy.

It Girl

Glitter Eyes,

with your head on the table

empty bottle still in your hand.

Don't you know

there's no savior to wait for

only Alexander's Band

playing 'Song d'Automne' 

as the ship sinks down,

playing as the waves come up

to swallow you

in the frozen blue.

They put words

in your mouth like pills.

Don't I know how it goes? 

Yes, I know.

Champagne kisses, 

rings on every finger till

you can't play piano anymore.

And you did it all for love,

a million eyes in the dark.

Did you think there were no consequences for

turning a spotlight

into a star?

Glitter Eyes,

you burn too bright.

Your cigarette tip

is crumbling now,

and when they smoke you down 

to the filter,

toss you into

the rain-choked gutter,

at last 

at least I think 

we all will remember

your face

under water

as you drown.

Sciencin' Around

Looking for a way to spend a rainy afternoon, I stumbled upon Carl Sagan's Cosmos in all it's season one splendid entirety on hulu. Even though the show was made in 1979 and first aired in 1980, the science behind it is sound, the visuals are stunning, the soundtrack is epic, and the entire package is delivered in the soothing, dulcet tones and sweeping gestures of a dashing, young, mop-topped Carl Sagan.

He approaches the macro and micro of the cosmos with a delightful sense of awe-filled optimism that is entirely refreshing the the current, cynical, panic-stricken climate of Science for Profit and Evangelical Atheism. It's science without an agenda, other than to explore and better understand our world. 

When I was a kid, I loved science, in large part because of this show. I'm sure I watched it with my dad, along with Nova and National Geographic Presents. I remember the long reclusive hours I spent as a kid making observations and conducting experiments.

Somewhere along the line, my attention turned significantly to language arts. The joys of science became bogged down in the horrors of math, while language led down a slouchy, jazzy path of literature, music, and visual art where it seemed anybody with an idea, even a stupid one, and an elegant or gimicky way to express it, could explode into a happenin' scene of epic proportions. 

Lately tho, I feel kinda done with happenin' scenes of any proportions. At the same time, my fine young nephew has brought the dazzling world of Science back into my center of focus. Ever since our trip to the Franklin Institute, I've been remembering those days of early childhood, and just the shear wonder of everything.

All areas of science have made leaps and bounds in the 20 some years I wasn't really paying attention. Now, hanging out with Matthew, I get to catch up to all the stuff I missed out on AND stay on the cutting edge (Matthew's totally cutting edge. This kid is a natural born quantum physicist. Talk to him about Time Travel. Seriously.)

So now I'm filling in my gaps, devoting my rainy days to Carl Sagan, Kenneth W. Ford, and the Reluctant Mr. Darwin instead of my usual gin and ink and A Perfect Circle records. 

And, in the immortal words of Bill Nye, "Science Rules!"

"Hell Yeah I Wanna Go to Europa and Spit Jupiter Seeds at the Moon!"

In Rainbows, by Radiohead 

I'm on my brother's couch, hallucinogens zipping through my blood, sonic spans and bursts of colors arching across the inside of my skull for hours as I fall asleep.

They've been my favorite band since I heard Creep on college radio in 1993, and my brother came home with Pablo Honey later that week. When the crunchy guitars on You started buzzing down my spine, I knew Creep wasn't a fluke, and Lurgee became my own personal teen-angst anthem. With each subsequent album, shift in sound, and change in direction, Radiohead has never failed to capture or keep my attention. They're my favorite cause no matter what my mood, I always want to listen to them. 

I'm particularly pleased with In Rainbows. 

Sonically speaking, its the happiest damn record they've ever put out. Sample that bright up-beat in House of Cards. Hear the entire spectrum of colors in Weird Fishes, and all the fireworks and sparkles in Reckoner.   

The studio recording of Nude/Big Ideas (Don't Get Any) sounds like Virgin Blue satin, and although I still love the haunting, falling-off-the-carousel sound of that on live cut with the Hammond organ, this incarnation of that song works for this perfect record.

Although right now, I'm gonna find that live cut, and mix it on a tape, or cd or whatever, with Procol Harum's Whiter Shade of Pale and the Arcade Fire's My Body is a Cage, cause that right there is a profound religious experience in just 3 songs.
You don't need to be taking psychedelics to hear the colors in that either, a span of cutting reds, smoke-saturated blues and some surprising bursts of pink and orange from the top left corner, and if you've got good enough speakers to get the thrum in your feet and head and chest, you may not need to have sex tonight.

Dav and I frequently argue about music today, and is it worth a damn. I say yes and sight Radiohead, Regina Specktor, Sufjan Stevens, The Arcade Fire, Aesop Rock, The Decemberists, and Modest Mouse as my reasons, in particular: In Rainbows, The Crane Wife, and Illinois, which stand up through the entire album.
Dav says, "Meh," to everything with the exception of In Rainbows, but he's a grumpy bastard who hates just about everything.
Except for the Slowskys. I heard him say yesterday, pre-psychotropics, that Bill Slowsky is a compelling character with a lot going on under the surface. He follows the martial tension between Bill and Carolyn the way other people follow Brad and Angelina.

Its these quirks of character that make me want to spend time with him.