Showing posts with label Radiohead. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Radiohead. Show all posts
September 23, 2011
February 23, 2011
February 15, 2011
New Radiohead Out Saturday...
No single, no tracklist, just coming soon to a website near you. Style.
June 21, 2009
"This may be the best live performance I've ever seen, Yes Yes?"
Quoted from my brother, the only remaining Mozart I know, taken from this...
To which I returned, and now share:
Well picked and well played. And being a musician, I'm sure it's hitting on levels I can't even hear. That song has so many dimensions, literally it's like a fucking journey. What got me, though, was when the breakdown comes - and Ed O'Brien is just sitting on the stage - mouthing the words, looking a little toolsy. Then I kept watching to see him get upstaged by one of the Greenwoods bouncing around and singing to himself - going fucking nuts to a song he'd heard or performed 1000 times already, likely...like he's dying to be it or get in it before it gets sent out into the world. That's fire, or gravity...like it's so heavy it's pulling 'em down. That's what it takes to be one of the all time greats, that's what I'm thinking. We're talking 3-4 bands ever, are we not? And they could certainly make a case to land at the top, yes yes?
To which I returned, and now share:
Well picked and well played. And being a musician, I'm sure it's hitting on levels I can't even hear. That song has so many dimensions, literally it's like a fucking journey. What got me, though, was when the breakdown comes - and Ed O'Brien is just sitting on the stage - mouthing the words, looking a little toolsy. Then I kept watching to see him get upstaged by one of the Greenwoods bouncing around and singing to himself - going fucking nuts to a song he'd heard or performed 1000 times already, likely...like he's dying to be it or get in it before it gets sent out into the world. That's fire, or gravity...like it's so heavy it's pulling 'em down. That's what it takes to be one of the all time greats, that's what I'm thinking. We're talking 3-4 bands ever, are we not? And they could certainly make a case to land at the top, yes yes?
February 27, 2009
First Ear Phenomena...
I talk a lot on here about hearing a song for the first time...or maybe I talk a lot about it in life -- to anyone who will listen -- this idea of a drop or beat or croon actually, physically changing me...the idea that I remember forever, the first time I hear a certain song and the way it makes me feel, about how it latches on and becomes a part of the path of the rest of my life. Yes, that heavy. I'd like to think that everything done here is done in an attempt to honor the everyday profound and to me, music has the skills...
I've been writing all day today minus the 3 hour workout break I took in the early afternoon and was just re-reading a passage that inspired two thoughts. The first was about how a potential editor is going to deal with my form of expression when they read something like...
"I got up and started to walk, watching as I moved, the lightning cutting reveals into the jagged and abandoned land. Within minutes, my entire body was soaked. Drops of water were forming on my brow, would drip as I'd blink, fighting to see far enough ahead to merely place one foot in front of the next, to stay on the path of that black and invisible road. I hadn't yet turned to double back, not yet having any intention to return home, to my room at Villa Holiday Beach and the storm was growing. At the end of the Perissa beaches, there's a road to Oia that splits through the middle of two imposing hills and crosses through the center of the island. I stood before it and thought of it as a passage, because between strobes of the sky, it looked almost mythological, as if braving that road, that night would transport me anywhere...on Earth or in my dreams. I remember it gave me vicious chills, introduced me to a fear of grandeur. Maybe for the first time in my life, I thought of the possibility of something in this life existing that was bigger than myself."
The second thing...what was the first song that did it to me...the first time I remember experiencing what I just recently dubbed First Ear Phenomena. The answer came quick and easy. It was this song...and I wanted to honor that...
I've been writing all day today minus the 3 hour workout break I took in the early afternoon and was just re-reading a passage that inspired two thoughts. The first was about how a potential editor is going to deal with my form of expression when they read something like...
"I got up and started to walk, watching as I moved, the lightning cutting reveals into the jagged and abandoned land. Within minutes, my entire body was soaked. Drops of water were forming on my brow, would drip as I'd blink, fighting to see far enough ahead to merely place one foot in front of the next, to stay on the path of that black and invisible road. I hadn't yet turned to double back, not yet having any intention to return home, to my room at Villa Holiday Beach and the storm was growing. At the end of the Perissa beaches, there's a road to Oia that splits through the middle of two imposing hills and crosses through the center of the island. I stood before it and thought of it as a passage, because between strobes of the sky, it looked almost mythological, as if braving that road, that night would transport me anywhere...on Earth or in my dreams. I remember it gave me vicious chills, introduced me to a fear of grandeur. Maybe for the first time in my life, I thought of the possibility of something in this life existing that was bigger than myself."
The second thing...what was the first song that did it to me...the first time I remember experiencing what I just recently dubbed First Ear Phenomena. The answer came quick and easy. It was this song...and I wanted to honor that...
October 11, 2007
Radiohead and My Black Gelson's Grocery Bag...
I can’t stop listening to the first 42 seconds of the In Rainbows “Nude.” It reminds me of waking up without alarm or neighbor’s ringing keys or blowers or vacuums or anything. It reminds me of walking out my front door, naked, to find nothing left…anywhere.
I don’t remember where I saw this vision, just that I did. Just erased, all life and any evidential trace of it. And it was beautiful for reasons I’m certain I’d have to explain…and because of this, my choice is to refrain. But I will tell you; it wasn’t just in a dream.
16 seconds in, the moment I keep re-visiting because I’ve never heard joy or sadness come out like this. And I don’t know which it is and it makes me want to give in and give up. And the more I think of it, the more it breaks me in half, the more I realize this is my intention. I only know that I want to feel it and hold it and own it…acquire this emotion. In my mind, I try to break it into edible pieces, send it to the kitchens in my soul or heart or gut so that it may be prepared and tasted raw, seasoned, powdered, charred, in soups, as a terrine, caramelized, emulsified and everything else so as to leave nothing gray…so that it can become mine until it is.
…
Today, I was hopping down the street with my "from the neighborhood, re-usable" black grocery bag in hand. The sun was shining through trees above my beautifully shaded Kings Road. There were children ahead following the lead of their mothers or nannies. When they reached the entrance of the Kings Road Park, they cried out, one after the other in perfect enthusiastic unison. “Yeah, the park!” And for a split second, I wished they would turn around and invite me…
But they didn’t.
I walked into the grocery store with my grocery store bag as I do 5 or so times a week. I picked up some milk, paper towels, light bulbs and a sandwich. I spoke with several employees, most of whom I know on a first name basis. I often catch wordless nods from the manager as I pass. Sometimes, he gives me free condoms and ice cream.
Okay, that's not entirely true. Anyway...
Whenever I reach the counter, there is no exchange of mundane conversation. Unless there’s a rookie bagger, the words paper or plastic aren’t spoken at all. Instead, I curl my bottom lip over the top, squint my eyes and pass with a satisfaction…I’m one of your people.
Someone once said it’s the little things that make all the difference. I’m not sure I know what that means…
But I always skip home.
I don’t remember where I saw this vision, just that I did. Just erased, all life and any evidential trace of it. And it was beautiful for reasons I’m certain I’d have to explain…and because of this, my choice is to refrain. But I will tell you; it wasn’t just in a dream.
16 seconds in, the moment I keep re-visiting because I’ve never heard joy or sadness come out like this. And I don’t know which it is and it makes me want to give in and give up. And the more I think of it, the more it breaks me in half, the more I realize this is my intention. I only know that I want to feel it and hold it and own it…acquire this emotion. In my mind, I try to break it into edible pieces, send it to the kitchens in my soul or heart or gut so that it may be prepared and tasted raw, seasoned, powdered, charred, in soups, as a terrine, caramelized, emulsified and everything else so as to leave nothing gray…so that it can become mine until it is.
…
Today, I was hopping down the street with my "from the neighborhood, re-usable" black grocery bag in hand. The sun was shining through trees above my beautifully shaded Kings Road. There were children ahead following the lead of their mothers or nannies. When they reached the entrance of the Kings Road Park, they cried out, one after the other in perfect enthusiastic unison. “Yeah, the park!” And for a split second, I wished they would turn around and invite me…
But they didn’t.
I walked into the grocery store with my grocery store bag as I do 5 or so times a week. I picked up some milk, paper towels, light bulbs and a sandwich. I spoke with several employees, most of whom I know on a first name basis. I often catch wordless nods from the manager as I pass. Sometimes, he gives me free condoms and ice cream.
Okay, that's not entirely true. Anyway...
Whenever I reach the counter, there is no exchange of mundane conversation. Unless there’s a rookie bagger, the words paper or plastic aren’t spoken at all. Instead, I curl my bottom lip over the top, squint my eyes and pass with a satisfaction…I’m one of your people.
Someone once said it’s the little things that make all the difference. I’m not sure I know what that means…
But I always skip home.
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