The last few weeks showered rains of shoe drops when I’d only forecast a single shoe to drop at work, and maybe a few wedding slippers at home. America’s birthday has been a welcomed opportunity for a break from work, and reevaluation of my professional life. I’ve failed to balance my impending wedding and presently stressful job with my own day to day life. Everyone (mostly) empathizes with improving their “work life balance” for a higher quality of existence. Writing and reading along with collection and listening to music provides said fidelity with my personal values.
I struggle with my confidence writing. No one reads or cares about, and I personally don’t wish to promote myself like a Kardashian, but revere writing as a skill, craft, art, and hobby. Seems like a lost art for my generation. I tried penpalling but it’s a tough ask when we don’t exercise our handwriting muscles. I set a goal to write weekly, a 1,000 words week, to which I’ve failed like Ben Simmons sitting courtside for no other reason than neither of us want to play the game. But here is my feeble attempt! On the Fourth of July while my fiance works. Again, grapple with putting finger to key; however, my easiest out and long overdue chronicle has simply been offering my latest listenings and vinyl purchases. It’s a fairly easy subject and I’m happy to gloat about my recent acquisitions (and elist taste).
Who doesn’t love “Breezin'” by George Benson? It’s legendarily easy feeling carefree melody seems underrated, to me. I’m just over thirty but still. How do we not talk about this song more when the kids talk about “vibes” in their Tik Toks or at festivals they only came to see Frank Ocean. I’m not sure how I got on this George Benson kick, which is irrelevant. Since then I decide I had to own Breezin’ at some point. To be frank, I’ve said this about Men At Work’s Business as Usual since my old roommate bought a solid copy for a dollar back in 2016-2017. Precedent says it won’t happen… But that’s why you go to record stores.
I took myself to Saint Marie Records today. Ironically ran across a Japanese version of Business as Usual, but when Breezin’ appeared a light illuminated like the shine of Krabby Patty. This is why “I have a problem” as my fiance says. I still revel in the romance of flipping through records until that record you weren’t looking for or even thinking about rises like a sunrise peaking over the ocean of unextraordinary albums. I’m forever chasing this high, and finding on days like today. I passed up Men At Work, yet again, but not George. Sure, I mostly bought this to hear “Breezin'” but I genuinely waited to hear the whole album until I managed to purchase the record.
Breezin’ hits many my of standards for high quality releases. Eight or less tracks, a primary guideline, is met. I prefer records typically stay around thirty minutes, which this exceeds; however, no time is wasted. There are no filler tracks. This record was released in 1976 so the industry at the time lends itself to make the most of the time on wax rather than maximize streams. Still, the only criticism I offer lies in the vocals for “This Masquerade” which irritates me like the bug bite on the back of my neck. It’s just there… lightly pinching and slowly building like an eruption. It’s the only exception to an otherwise instrumental records. Such an obvious flaw in an otherwise perfect album I played twice tonight.
There’s nothing new I can add to the overwhelming high esteem people have for The Hotelier. They’re universally beloved in the emo scene since the release of Home, Like No Place Is There. I luckily caught them on tour in June of 2016 during the release of Goodness at Che Cafe. Wow, seven years ago feels like lifetimes ago. They never came back to San Diego again and quickly went into hiatus for some years. Still, up until COVID I continued checking in on them for tour updates. Recently they announced their first tour in four years to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Home. My fiance has the misfortune, depending on how you look at it, of coming with me to see them perform Home front to back for possibly the last time ever.
Thinking about my recent spiral of dread at work with what my life was like seven years ago reminded me I overcame crippling gloom many times. Home and Goodness were both soundtracks of my own recovery. Listening to those songs now definitely hits different. I blasted “The Scope of All of This Rebuilding” as my war cry every time I ventured out to therapy or socialized with new and old friends. Over the years only a few songs have remained in rotation in my playlists. One obvious, “Among the Wildflowers”, and another not so obvious, “Dendron”. Why these two? I can hum some of the lyrics and most of the melodies easily without contemplating the song’s meaning.
This record pivots between themes of depression, mental illness, loss, and (open to interpretation) discontent with the modern America systems. I abhor the current housing economics in America, which seems solely based on luck with the market, interest rates, and the overall economic climate. In 2016 my life drifted into aimless doldrums for several years until therapy helped me unpack a broken relationship, childhood baggage, and build coping skills to manage moments of melancholy. Those times, thankfully, appear as out of site as trying to spot Hawaii from Moonlight Beach.
Write about Whirr at your own risk, well fuck it. In February of this year, Whirr released pre-orders for their Live In Los Angeles (8/3/2015) 12″ along with a 45 of two unreleased songs. As of this writing there are still copies available from the band’s website, so don’t be fooled by the secondary market. Normally writing anything about the band without contexts could land you in Jail of Public Opinion. No medical professional possesses the antibiotics capable of sterilizing this cultural phenomena. If you’re unaware of the controversy surrounding the band read this. I’ve only read one other piece since and concerning their cancellation, which contextualizes Whirr’s issues well but can’t resist revealing the author’s distaste for the band and its fans. Mr. Enis clearly struggles living with the fact this band remains relevant. Perhaps he and other “critics” agonize over their failure to understand how Whirr continues connecting with fans.
In this case, circumstances matters more than I originally anticipated four-five months ago. Advertised as a live album it would be fair to assume the entire set from the night in question would appear on a 12″ LP, especially when a separate 45 single included in the package. Fan excitement flamed out in various camps around the band when preorders arrived and only three full songs were included with a completely blank B side. You can see the full setlist here. Fans hammered Whirr with their confusion and feeling mislead by what they were sold. Nick Bassett felt compelled to address the mounting frustration on Reddit. You can read his full statement here. It’s easy for Bassett to sell this as a “bootleg” release in retrospect; however, they failed to adequately explain to fans what they were selling them.
Personally, I feel short changed because of how effectively it immersed me into their live experience which I never got with Whirr. Using the ending scene to Eyes Wide Shut as an interlude going into “Mumble” sounds fucking amazing. The energy from the opening chords and 20 effect pedals translates just as well if I were there in 2015. “The Thrill is Gone” Chet Baker outro perfectly fits Whirr’s whole artist aesthetic. The ethereal soundscapes Whirr produced on their studio records work equally well live, and that’s what disappoints me most. I never saw them live, and they will likely never tour again. This was an incredible missed opportunity for Whirr to share what they offered live with a fairly wide audience that wants to relive the experience or, like me, never saw them. I enjoy what I got but I’ll always feel cheated and deprived of an experience I’ve wanted and will likely never have.
Disaesthetic 