1/17/2010

Space, Two guys and a Girls, some creative writing and Kennedy hallucinations.


I was probably 8 the first time I went to Disney World with my family. One of the greatest memories of that trip was going on Space Mountain. I am pretty sure that I had been on roller coasters before that, I think it was The Beast at Kings Island. However, I had never been on a indoor roller coaster before, let alone an indoor roller coaster where you were immersed in total darkness. I remember waiting in line with such sweaty palm, listening to them repeat words "darkness" and "speed". We had to wait a while in line too and every step closer and every script repetition I got more and more scared. I was also pretty freaked by the feeling of foreignness with all the space talk, insane lighting, and blips and bloops. I knew I was in for something intense. I wouldn't be surprised if I begged my parents to turn around and walk out. They didn't. So I got in the shuttle, checked that I was strapped in good and tight about fifty thousand times and put my death grip on that "Oh shit!" bar until my knuckles turned white. My Dad sat next to me and cracked jokes about how I looked like a ghost and assured me, while laughing, that everything was going to be fine. As soon as we got to the tunnel with the lights that move faster and faster I shut my eyes and braced myself. I think I might have seen maybe 3 seconds of the rides scenery. I specifically remember my Dad yelling "Open your eyes! It's awesome!" I opened them once and remember seeing things flying at me through the dark and instantly shut them and screamed. I didn't open them again until we were slowed down and didn't let go of the bar until the train stopped completely. Lets just say that was the first time my mind had been blown, and I didn't even see anything. Years later I went back and I had my eyes opened the whole way and I loved it. I still didn't let go of the bar (and I still don't even though I love roller coasters). Every time I hear this song by The Life And Times it reminds me of that ride. It's intense, spacey, and comes at you a million miles an hour.
The Life And Times - Confetti

If you haven't heard of Langhorne Slim, you might have heard a song of his in a Travelers Insurance commercial. If you don't watch TV or pay attention to the music in commercials like me then you are a lot cooler than I am and are in for a treat. I just started to get into him but he's been around touring for the last couple years with band such as The Violent Femmes, Lucero, The Avett Brothers and has been on the Bonaroo music festival roster. His laid back folk style is very catchy, not too twangy, which is a nice thing to say for once about a folk musician. I love the twang but it's nice to get away from the country connotations when using the word "folk music". He has a nice voice that ranges from cries of excited passion to soft and smooth. If you like good jangly acoustic R&B infused pop rock songs then give Ol' Slim a try. I'm sure you'll be glad you did. I'd also suggest the song Say Yes or I Love You, But Goodbye which are my other favorites.
Langhorne Slim - Worries

As I was doing a little research about the band Girls I came across and interesting tidbit about the band's lead singer, Christopher Owens. Christopher is a former member of the Children of God cult. Which started in 1968 in Huntington Beach, California. It closely follows the basic theology within the historical Christian tradition, however they have many non-traditional views. One belief is that the meaning of "keys to the kingdom" is more literal than figurative. Believing that the spiritual keys are able to power various spiritual spacecrafts known as Key Craft), and can turn into spiritual swords for the purpose of fighting demons and other negative forces. There are also skewed views on sex as well. They believe in the "free love" ideal that was a mainstay of the hippie generation. They believe that male homosexuality, is sin. Female bisexuality is sanctioned, though female homosexuality at the complete exclusion of men is not permitted. There is also the belief that loving Jesus means having an intimate sexual relationship with him by encouraging members to imagine that Jesus is having sex with them during sexual intercourse and masturbation. There are a lot of other "interesting" views and practices as well but for the sake of keeping it short I won't go into it. If you want to read more about it rock a wiki on it or click here to be lazy. Either way he was a former member and now makes great pop songs that carry on that surf music vibe that the Beach Boys held only less 60's and more indie.
Girls - Lust For Life

I cannot tell you how many times I have listened to the soothing chain smoked voice of singer Eric Bachmann and drifted off into a land of soft clouds and sad angels. In fact I did a few art pieces, shown above, based on the music of his main band the Crooked Fingers (primarily from their first proper self titled full length album). He was also a member of the now defunct band Archers Of Loaf who made a decent name for themselves in the 90's. I had the great opportunity to Crooked Fingers play in a small venue called the Intersection before it became a huge venue. In the middle of their set the band came out into the middle of the floor, had the audience surround them and played a few songs. It was a small crowd, sadly for them, thankfully for me, but it was one of the coolest concert moments I had ever experienced. I would advise you, in good musical taste, to go and track down a copy of Crooked Fingers self titled album as it is soft and well written. This song will give you a guidepost of the beautiful music you will hear.
Eric Bachmann - Man O'War

As I run through the tall grassy field, illuminated by a moon so gigantic I swear it will com crashing into me, I gasp for breath and prey I don't fall. I know it's after me, but I fear that looking back again will lead to my demise. I picture turning my head and meeting the beast sparkling blue eye, to enraged fire lit red eye. Smelling the awful breath, freshly baited with the foul stench of death and hands like sharp knives ready to tear and bruise my warm flesh. In the distance is my only chance of refuge, a twisted dense forest. Laid with a wall of fog so thick that even the keenest eye would be dulled. Behind me I can hear the footsteps, the yells, screams and exhausted panting of my fellow villagers break the crisp night air. All I can do is pray that they too find their wits in a moment of terror and make for trees. It may not be much but it's better than being target in the open or eventually being found in the most obvious hiding spaces. After what seems like a lifetime, I finally hit the tree line, ducking into the darkness behind the first trunk large enough to hide my cloaked figure. I dig my hands deep into the wet soil at my feet and clench two handfuls and bring them to my face. I need to make my pale skin as invisible as possible. With my hood covering my blond hair I peek out onto the vast field amazed at how fast I made it here. I see nothing that puts me in immediate danger, but I know it's out there, or here. God, I hope it's not here. I see what I used to call my home. Now the miniature shapes of homes and stables are war torn and ablaze. I hear faded shouts, grunts, roars and the scent of burning fills the air. I see clouds of black smoke pouring across the moon, I look into the woods I see sheets of white covering the faint outlined maze of trees and brush. To my left a steady beat of heels hitting the ground coming closer. The thunderous sound quickens. Time to move again. I was raised along this wood and I should be able to navigate better but still find my feet heavy and clumsily half tripping on the uproots. Still I am sure I manage better than the monster behind, or so I hope. I know a place, a safe haven buried deep by the trees and hidden amongst the earth. If I can make it I'll be safe for a while, maybe even dawn if I'm lucky. As I continue to weave and zig zag through the leaves and twisted branches the sound behind me, although considerably closer than moments before, stops. I'm not about to follow suit and investigate but the intrigue is weighing on my mind. So much so that I stop paying attention to the terrain and snag my foot on a large arched root and fall to my face. Nothing is damaged, but the wind is no longer inside my chest. I'm not sure if it is due to the running or the fall, both probably. All I can do is lay there trying to breathe silently through my nose. I survey the area to regain my bearings. Luckily I landed in a thicket of weak brush and I know where I am. I am about fifty yards from the makeshift hiding spot. I turn on my back, almost ready spring up once again and I hear the snapping of twigs. A short distance away I spot two hulking figures making their way through the mist. I quickly turn back over and cover myself as much as I can with my dark cloak, retracting like a turtle in it's shell. However, my cloak is not a shell. I might not be seen but there is a chance I may get stepped on. The brush I so gracefully landed in also helps to conceal me but it's not enough. They have eyes like a hawk, and their sense of smell far out ranks ours. they are coming closer and I can hear their loud labored breathing and disgruntled snorts. If I am caught I am dead. I have no weapon and even if I did their skin is as tough as leather. I'd for sure be torn limb from limb in an instant. Now my only hope recourse is utter silence and timing. I am able to see through a small hole in the seam of my cloak and they are mere feet in front of me. I can see their disgusting toenails and the scent of mold and fish water fills my nostrils. They stop a few feet past me, no longer in my view, share some grunts and move along. I wait. I wait for at least an hour before I even move from my compacted state, before I even let out a sigh of relief. After a short silent prayer and a scan and rescan through the hole I expand once again, still on my stomach, careful not to let my color show against the forest floor. Movement is a little tough as my muscles are tired, wore and had cramped up while hiding. I decide that standing up would not be a wise decision at this point, even with the cover of night and fog, and slowly make way to the safety spot. Once I reach the destination I lift the concealing brush cover and climb inside the enclosure. It's not my bedroom but I should be safe here until sunrise, if it finds me before they do.
Nightwish - The Poet And The Pendulum

...and now for something completely different. "Above all, we are coming to understand that the arts incarnate the creativity of a free people. When the creative impulse cannot flourish, when it cannot freely select its methods and objects, when it is deprived of spontaneity, then society severs the root of art."
John F. Kennedy
Ratatat - Kennedy

Super Sweet Tripped Out Bonus Song
The Raveonettes - Hallucinations