If you were to recommend the record Ys by Joanna Newsom to someone they might ask you to describe it. You would say, well it is folk music with lots of harp and orchestral arrangements by Van Dyke Parks. That might not convince them. You might say there are only 5 songs, but the record is 55 minutes and one song is 17 minutes, but it all seems compact and not too long at all. That definitely might not sell them on it. You’d tell them the vocals might be considered odd by most people, but they fit the music perfectly. That probably would not work either. You could also tell them that maybe it was the most compelling record of 2006. That there was nothing else like it put out that year or in the years since even by Joanna Newson. That she has put out good records since, but nothing quite as otherworldly or ethereal as Ys. Maybe that would peak their interest. You could get more specific then and tell them when you listened to the record many times over one winter and you used to think it sounded like a fairy tale put to music. That it sounded not like a child’s fairy tale, but one about the realm of the fae where the stories are about when someone’s husband disappears and comes back after 10 years and looks exactly the same, but has purple hair and speaks a different language. That you used to wonder while listening to it on the train who around you might be one of the fair folk trying to trick you. The tales where the world is shown to you by one of the fairies through a door that is in the middle of a forest and the world you see is beautiful and glimmers brightly. It pulls you toward it. Yet you can tell everything has sharp edges and just going through the door might cut you and you’re allergic to the most beautiful of the flora and if you go there you better bring your EpiPen. You are glad you can see it through the portal, but you don’t really think you want to go there. You’ll just sit back and admire from a distance. After that they might want to listen to it or maybe not. I suppose it all depends on well you sold it.
I liked metal music in the 1980’s and early 90’s. I suppose much of the world did. Bands like Metallica, Iron Maiden, and Pantera played in front huge crowds around the world and sold millions of records. Somewhere along the line I lost track of the genre. It wasn’t on purpose, it just wasn’t on my radar. Fast forward a decade or so. In the early 2000’s I used to go to Manifest Records in Charlotte. At certain types of record stores there are always people who will talk your ear off. It is both a stereotype and true. Over the years I depended on this interaction for new music to listen to. Manifest has had those people over the years and one of them was an employee who was a huge fan of the record Leviathan by Mastodon. I didn’t pay heed to his recommendation when he told me and quickly forgot the conversation. Later that year I found the CD in the stacks and saw the cover. The Leviathan they were referring to was Ahab’s White Whale. That I did not expect. I decided I should buy it. I listened to the record that night and realized that metal music had continued onward when I wasn’t paying attention. Leviathan was a combination of Black Sabbath and punk music and worked perfectly for the subject material (Moby Dick, drums and riffs for descent into the watery abyss). I hadn’t heard metal music quite like it before. I wasn’t sure what to call it, but the record was great whatever it was. I saw Mastodon later that year at the Casbah at Tremont Music Hall ( a great club gone, but not forgotten). It was sold out in the small room and it was about as far from the arena metal of the Monsters of Rock as you could get. The music though was just as loud as an arena rock and hurtled forward relentlessly in the space there was. Thanks to the record store worker whose name I don’t remember, but who wore a trucker’s hat and had impressive sideburns at Manifest for helping me realize metal music still existed in 2004. In 2020 it is appreciated still.
The last concert I saw before everything shut down was Hiss Golden Messenger. Over the last twenty years I have always had a southern rock band that I went to see a bunch of times over a few years. Some years it was Drive By Truckers, some years Gov‘t Mule, some years Lucero. Whiskey drinking bands where you sit outside the club after the show with your new best friend from West Virginia or South Georgia. The last few years it has been Hiss Golden Messenger. MC Taylor writes Americana songs at a high level like Jerry Garcia or Will Oldham. The songs are evergreen. Folklore anthems in the present day. Phil Cook can play just about any instrument well and the rest of the band is always excellent They also have a devotion to the cause of public education which is a soft spot to me. I like all their records, but I think my favorite by them is Heart Like a Levee. It is full of sing along’s and crowd pleasers. For whatever reason they play small venues like Cat’s Cradle or Orange Peel still, but so do Drive By Truckers and Lucero so what do I know. Go see them when it is possible to see anything again.
There were many Elephant 6 records that were popular in the late 90’s and there were a bunch I listened to on heavy rotation. Apples in Stereo, Beulah, Elf Power, Of Montreal, Olivia Tremor Control all made great pop rock records. There is only one that is as perfect and odd as any ever made that is Neutral Milk Hotel – In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. The lyrics of the record have been interpreted by obsessed fans for years so I will not bother. I know after a while Jeff Mangum got sick of talking about the record and what the meaning was behind it so I will honor him by saying I am not interested. I just went to genius.com and there are 7 people mulling over the lyrics right now. Good luck tireless annotators! The lyrics are beautiful no matter what they mean. I have no idea what the song Two Headed Boy is actually about, but damn does it pack a wallop. Jeff Mangum sing marvelously. Scott Spillane’s horns are perfect. Julian Koster makes random sounds with various instruments which seem completely necessary. Like many Elephant 6 records it is under 40 minutes and they didn’t need a minute more to make a classic record.
There was a book a number of years ago written by David Markson titled This Is Not A Novel. I loved it. There was no plot or characters or conflicts or resolutions, but it was extremely compelling. It was more about the strands of thought of the mind and the corridors it goes down and how what we read and see and hear reflect back on us as version of a story itself. Random facts, last words, lists of ingredients, baseball box scores. It might remind you of the much more famous Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan, but with much shorter one or two line segments. This is Not a Novel was all ligaments and no muscles. Trout Fishing in America still had some muscles.
I’d like to reproduce some version of that idea on Facebook Live on this page and at beardedriffraff.blog. It kind of goes like this-
1. I logon and peruse things like Wikipedia or YouTube and Spotify as I often do to go down rabbit holes of things that interest me and share it on Facebook Live. This is something I do anyway on a rainy night.
2.If you feel so inclined you can watch and comment and participate send me down other rabbit holes of things I don’t know about. Maybe I am checking out Robin Hood Prince of Thieves and you are the foremost expert on Bryan Adams and you can direct me to some fascinating Bryan Adams info or article. Maybe you want to point me in the direction of how good Morgan Freeman was in the movie Street Smart. Who knows? You can watch for 3 minutes and make a suggestion or an hour, doesn’t really matter. If no else joins the corridors of the rabbit hole will be dug by me alone I suppose. I’d rather people join though.
3.Whatever direction the rabbit holes goes in I post at BearedRiffRaff.blog via a a sequential series of interesting things reviewed from Wikipedia, YouTube videos, bandcamp songs, book excerpts, or whatever as ‘This is Not a Blog’ post for the day.
4.If it goes well I’d like to have people join and and be in charge of starting and picking the direction of the rabbit hole. A diversity of results for each ‘Not a Blog’ post would be nice.
This is an experiment as much as anything. Kind of a crowd sourced digital found objects pastiche or collage. It might end up mundane or maybe marvelous, who knows. If nothing else comes of it I will skill up my digital production ability.
If anyone who likes this page is interested please check out-
In the distance I see
Monuments (built by unknown hands)
To wealth (accumulated via unknown plans)
I’d tell you what their plaques said
If the world would just stop spinning
I’d tell you what the score was
If I knew what constituted winning
Sometimes the smells of being alive are
Dust (as it covers all)
Rotting cabbage (you bought but didn’t use)
Spring flowers (they will not be denied)
Excess time (somehow it wafts in the air)
Uncertainty (you can smell it in your pores)
Will the world ever be the same again?
(The answer has changed since you asked the question)
Does all of this make me feel better?
(Parts I disdain and wish to fade away)
Or am I terrified?
(That which I love, and fear will not stay)
Breathe
(No longer taken as a given)
Grieve
(For all that has been riven)
Repent
(There is no sin to be forgiven)
Grow
(Opportunity has arisen)
Choose
(Actions of your own volition)
Wait
(The future remains well hidden)
Gene G. McLaughlin 2020
Bet on work and failure
As a path to growth
Bet it’s a bet
That won’t appeal to most
Own your sins
Grow from them
Acknowledge your failings
As much as wins
Become a better man
In the public eye
Be known as one
The day you die.
Gene G. McLaughlin 2020
The spark
A Dose
Of Art
As love
Tears you
Apart
Gene G. McLaughlin 2020
Beware they that ask
For your love and rage at the same time
Love is one part of your story
Rage is one part of your story
They are roads to different destinations
That you will take at different times
They that ask you to combine them
Do so for their own means
They wish to become the story you tell
To simplify you
They that ask this do not mean you well
They have no wishes for you at all
They dream a dream for them
Cherish your love
Safeguard your rage
They are yours and yours alone
Gene G. McLaughlin 2020
beardedriffraff.blog 