I’m sitting in an airport waiting for my flight to depart. Of course I’m one of those people who shows up early. Regretfully didn’t take down a night cap before leaving. Thankfully sleep’s merciful release will swoon me as soon as my ass crashes the seat. Hoping for as much REM as possible.
Last time I wrote from the airport, I took stock of how far I’d come navigating independence. Dealing with a break-up. Last time I visited a close friend in Japan. Now a girlfriend, a little closer by.
Did not think I’d be saying that going into 2018. I wanted it to happen so badly again but of course these things always happen unexpectedly, by circumstance. I’ll be with her for a week, the most time we’ve had the fortune of spending together. What luck I have the means and time to see her.
I can imagine the future taking shape how wonderful that might be; however, I’ve felt the disappointment of a fizzled future. Enjoy the present. Appreciate the waking moment, it’s already passing. Savor it while it’s happening. The future is… Air!
Lately my head’s been underwater. Every vibration sounds distorted. Nothing comes through clear. All my senses seem muffled. Food isn’t as satisfying, most thought fuzzy. I needed some kind hammer to break through the void. Still haven’t found the answers I’m seeking but hearing Desolate Peaks again broke through the silence.
Somehow summer 2012 always reappears again in many forms. State Faults were just one of dozens of seminal bands shaping how I’ll reminder those dog days. I was at my highest peak socially than at any other point of my life, yet extremely lonely and longing for intimacy or life direction.
In a way similar the situation is the same except my decisions have predicable consequences. Each attempt to explorer a solution creates more questions and fears. Sometimes just waiting for random events to unfold produces answers to problems. It did back then, maybe it will today.
State Faults reminded me not to besmirch my primal emotional frustration about my job, place in life, or whatever I’m upset about.
I’m glad I stumbled onto that record again. “Cities & Memories” starts off the new playlist in progress. Typically when I work on a new mix I look for songs that narrate my mood of the time. Other times to offset them. Fang Island’s brief discography served this role well over the last few months.
How these guys faded away is beyond me. They had some early success with “Daisy” back in 2010 but quickly fizzled after their second album Major. I got that LP for $5, what a bargain, at Amoeba early last year and acquired their self titled a few weeks ago for six times the amount.
Fang Island’s first album has some great songs on it but feels like a random a batch of songs. Great records include songs of characteristic symmetry. There’s a likeness of origin and style.
From side A to B Major blooms triumphant rock majesty. Like its name, each song boosts an abundance of joyous major chords. “Make Me” rejoices faith in the self resonating what optimism sounds like. Definitely a track that keeps finding it’s way onto my playlists. I added “Sisterly” to the mix for bombastic energy to cut through my malaise.
Music like that brightens my mood. I’ve looked to Turnover’s Good Nature to help sustain a healthier mindset. They had second best album in 2017 and I often wonder if it wasn’t the best. I’ve played it more than perhaps any LP I own.
I gravitate to sounds echoing the emotions I’m experiencing or want to experience. Good Nature accomplishes both. If you don’t live near on of California’s coast take a trip to the beach on a Saturday morning in the summer. Sit on your chair or over a towel on the sand, play through the album, hear ease of the golden state.
Some of those sounds play in my head when I think about intimacy. Enjoying recreational time with friends. Comfort at home. Companionship with my girlfriend. Whether we’re together or separated by fly over states “Bonnie (Rhythm & Melody)” quietly tunes up when it’s silent.
My fellow blogger and hetero-life partner Andrew came over on Saturday for our usual sit around turning into an unrecorded podcast. Sometimes I wonder if we ever have a plan. We talk about recording a podcast or doing something rather ambitious but always fall into what makes us most comfortable: talking about the things we know.
Since I met him ten years ago we could talk for as long as I could keep up. If Tony Romo were in the dictionary, his image would sit along side gregarious. Andrew would run parallel to loquacious. The boy never stops talking, and I love him for it. Thankfully he forgives my weak battery and blue moods.
The conversation always turns to music and sports. I took him to his first standing room only concert. He kept interested in writing for all the years since we met. We talk on the phone like it’s 1996. After games we talk on the phone for almost an hour at a time. Even when he lived in Japan for two years we spoke like this.
I find I’ve usually been a conjugate for new music to Andrew and all my friends, except he listens to almost everything I throw his way. So when he brings me something new I’m ready to accept. Back in his college days he crossed paths with Ryan Santos Phillips when a friend suggested he check out Phillips’ project Spirits of Leo.
Last year they dropped their double LP Equinox. Andrew got a copy when Phillips visited him in Japan. I still skewer through music to find records like Equinox. It reminds me of watching 120 Minutes reairs on MTV late on Saturday nights in high school. These were formative years stuck with emotional ignorance.
No where to go, so much desire to experience things without the resources. So dissatisfied with suburban life but still oblivious to how adult works.
Summer 2012?
Equinox fits very well into the types of the stories told about adolescents in Reagan’s Morning in America. Some of those songs could fit into the soundtrack for Adventureland, especially “Soma” a favorite of mine and many of their fans on Bandcamp.
There isn’t one band they sound most alike to. Each arrangement lifts from several key bands from the 80’s college rock era. The drums keep the beat simple but crisp like Hüsker Dü yet guitars stay almost exclusively clean. Clean like The Cure but don’t fall onto loud distorted chords. Playing scales dominate over chords on this record.
The influences don’t overdrive the artist’s creativity. Yes, it’s obvious where they came from, but each song sounds like it’s own going off into its planned course. The mid-range vocals remind you of Jesus and Mary Chain or a bit of Echo and The Bunnymen, but the highs a bit of Morrissey. The basslines enjoy the fortune of time and technology. Low end frequencies just mix better today than they 30-40 years ago.
I asked Andrew to hit up Phillips for a copy but I see now I can just buy it myself. Usually buying directly from the source means they get 100% of the money, which he deserves. If you’re in Brooklyn March 1st see them at Alphaville. Stream it on most platforms now or purchase directly from the artist over on Bandcamp.
Disaesthetic 