The Verve Pipe - Colorful
Hm, I didn't think I'd be repeating bands so soon. But so be it. Generally when I sit down on a Wednesday night to write in here, I try to think about what's been crossing my mind in the past few days. Sometimes, a song comes up on shuffle that sparks a memory. I also have a handful of saved notes of things to write about "eventually", but in the end it all comes down to the spur of the moment. And in all fairness, there's probably two or three more songs by The Verve Pipe that will end up in here eventually, as well as a number of Posies, Radiohead, Dada and any number of other bands I can't remember right now.
But enough with the stalling, let's get to the story.
The first year of college was in all fairness a rollercoaster mess for me. I lost touch with an ex-girlfriend and an ex-band, most of my friends went to a rival college, I was having a difficult time adjusting to dorm life, I actually failed a few classes, I was diagnosed with clinical depression (which I later decided to not take medication for), and oh, I was facing a serious crisis of "what the heck am I going to do with my life." And as messed up as I was for that first year, I absolutely loved the parts of it that were good. I had never actually experienced freedom like this to go anywhere or do (just about) anything. There was a whole town to explore, which was a stark contrast to how I felt about my hometown of downtown Fairfax.
There were a number of places I really liked to go when I wanted to explore, or to get away from my room. There was a bridge across an access road that I would stand on (not for too long, though, because it was a decently major walkway and people would give me weird looks). Another favorite was a ledge in the agriculture quad, a sort of outdoor stage and observation deck of the grassy area (this ledge has been something of a nemesis to me for the last five years, but again, that's another song). But one of my all-time favorite places, and a favorite of many people in the town, was the Duck Pond.
By itself, the duck pond was nothing too special... it was a small pond with water that wasn't exactly the cleanest around, it could be messy or crowded depending on the season, and there were an armful of ducks around asking for bread or small bits of food. But every now and then, the mood was just right and the duck pond was the place to go for reflection, or to picnic, or just to be with someone whose company you enjoyed. I remember one night in particular that the whole area was deserted save for myself and a close female friend of mine. I don't really remember why we went out there that night or how long we had been there, but we ended up wandering around the banks just enjoying the cool evening air. She turned to me, and the following conversation followed (dramatized by a romantic memory, as always):
Her: You should sing something.
Me: What? Why would I sing?
Her: Well, it's what you do, isn't it?
Me: Um... yeah, but that's in a band... with a guitar. It would feel funny just.... singing.
Her: Well why?
And I guess I couldn't come up with a good response to that. So I mulled it over for a while, gave it half a laugh or two, and left a pause in there just so it seemed as if I wouldn't do anything. And honestly, I didn't plan to, and I almost surprised myself when I let forth a whispered melody:
The show is over, close the story book...
And then I just kept on going. It was a strange sensation, singing just to myself, her, and the night's still air. I had always associated the song with her, even long before this one night, but singing it then and there seemed to give it validation, to make it more real. And when it was over, it didn't really seem as if anything had changed, it had just been stated. And that was all that ever passed between us, really, that song - even if it takes me a few years' reflection to really understand it. I made a wonderful friend that year in her, and I know she loves me no matter how neurotic I can be at times. And thank you, thank you for that. Maybe it's a lesson that I wasn't really ready to learn until recently, now that you've gone away from this town.
Now that I think about it, I haven't been down to the duck pond in a long time, possibly in years. Maybe some night when the air's just right, I'll wander down there and see what the colors are.
Plug in, and turn it up...
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Fuzzy Canada
Matthew Good Band - Load Me Up
I really owe a lot of my musical education to Canada, when I think back on it. Back in the later years of high school, we didn't have cable and my internet was exceedingly poor dial-up. Often, I'd stay up late on sunday nights to listen to the "new music" shows on the two local radio stations... which was pretty much the only place I knew I'd hear bands that weren't getting played every hour of the day. But then one day, after getting home from a new year's party, I found myself idly flipping through the UHF band channels on the TV... home shopping... infomercials... canadian music channel... indeterminate static...
Wait. What was that last one?
It was January 1st, 2000 when local public-service station WNVT started carrying MuchMusic programming. MuchMusic was basically a Canadian version of MTV, but being from our neighbors to the north, most of the bands were new and unfamiliar. I came across quite a few of my favorite bands there: Lamb, which I have become somewhat obsessed with; Our Lady Peace, which I had heard of but never really known much about; and Matthew Good Band, who I had never heard of but were apparently really popular up there.
One of the first videos I saw on MuchMusic that first day I came across it was for Matthew Good Band's "Load Me Up". I actually came in just a little bit before the middle of it, and found myself wondering why all these catholic school students were chasing the band, and also why I'd never heard of such a great rock band before. Eventually, I was lucky enough to catch the video in its entirety, and from there on out I started to watch MuchMusic for hours at a time, often simply on in the background when I was doing something else. I started taping videos when I was out, and then coming back later to watch them. I had been getting new music from my friends and through those late-night radio shows, but this was something different entirely. It was music without bias, or at least with less bias... instead of being given music to listen to, I started to pick and choose from video to video what I actually wanted to find out more about.
Sadly, WNVT only aired MuchMusic for about a year or two before they stopped carrying the programming, opting to go to a world-oriented channel with lots of programming in different languages. Thankfully, by the time that happened, I knew that there was a lot more out there, more music that was dying to be heard, and I was ready to move to College (capitalized for emphasis) where the internet and independent music beckoned like a hundred doors waiting to be opened.
Plug in, and turn it up...
I really owe a lot of my musical education to Canada, when I think back on it. Back in the later years of high school, we didn't have cable and my internet was exceedingly poor dial-up. Often, I'd stay up late on sunday nights to listen to the "new music" shows on the two local radio stations... which was pretty much the only place I knew I'd hear bands that weren't getting played every hour of the day. But then one day, after getting home from a new year's party, I found myself idly flipping through the UHF band channels on the TV... home shopping... infomercials... canadian music channel... indeterminate static...
Wait. What was that last one?
It was January 1st, 2000 when local public-service station WNVT started carrying MuchMusic programming. MuchMusic was basically a Canadian version of MTV, but being from our neighbors to the north, most of the bands were new and unfamiliar. I came across quite a few of my favorite bands there: Lamb, which I have become somewhat obsessed with; Our Lady Peace, which I had heard of but never really known much about; and Matthew Good Band, who I had never heard of but were apparently really popular up there.
One of the first videos I saw on MuchMusic that first day I came across it was for Matthew Good Band's "Load Me Up". I actually came in just a little bit before the middle of it, and found myself wondering why all these catholic school students were chasing the band, and also why I'd never heard of such a great rock band before. Eventually, I was lucky enough to catch the video in its entirety, and from there on out I started to watch MuchMusic for hours at a time, often simply on in the background when I was doing something else. I started taping videos when I was out, and then coming back later to watch them. I had been getting new music from my friends and through those late-night radio shows, but this was something different entirely. It was music without bias, or at least with less bias... instead of being given music to listen to, I started to pick and choose from video to video what I actually wanted to find out more about.
Sadly, WNVT only aired MuchMusic for about a year or two before they stopped carrying the programming, opting to go to a world-oriented channel with lots of programming in different languages. Thankfully, by the time that happened, I knew that there was a lot more out there, more music that was dying to be heard, and I was ready to move to College (capitalized for emphasis) where the internet and independent music beckoned like a hundred doors waiting to be opened.
Plug in, and turn it up...
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Standards of Measurement
Blur - Song 2
Back in the middle days of high school, me and my friends rode the bus to school every morning and took the same one back in the evening. Since we went to a county-wide magnet school, our bus ride would usually be well over half an hour, and even more than an hour on bad weather days. Being a group of sophomores, we needed something to entertain ourselves. I was smart enough to pick up a set of tiny speakers to go along with my discman, because the bus we were on didn't have a radio. I could do an entry alone about the speakers, as I went through no less than four sets in my sophomore and junior years, each one bigger, better, and requiring more batteries than the last. I won't, though, because I can't think of a good song to associate it all with.
As most groups of teenage boys are prone to do, we fixated on a lot of weird things and generally tried to make fools of ourselves as much as possible. One thing we would often do on the bus would repeatedly play a song, to see how long it took for the people in the front of the bus (freshmen and sophomores, underclassmen to us) to notice or to get irritated. And we developed our own set of standards and favorites, such that the Beastie Boys' "Intergalactic" or "Girls" would be played at least once a trip, or Fatboy Slim's "The Rockafella Skank" would never be allowed to play for its entire seven-plus minutes (it does kinda just keep going). And along the way, Blur's "Song 2" became our default number-one song of all time. It grew to such a mythological status for us that we started measuring distances and times in the number of repetitions of the track - since it was exactly two minutes long, it was very easy to tell time by. We knew what point on the road was one Song 2 away from the school, and I can think of several days on which we just put the song on loop for half an hour.
While all this was going on, generally we played cards. Playing cards on a bus was rarely easy - the seats were somewhat difficult to work around, the cards would slide a lot, and of course it was hard to really pay attention to what was going on. Every now and then, the bus would stop too fast and we'd all scramble to grab something before it clattered to the floor and slid up five or six rows. Despite all the irritations and messing around, we had a lot of fun on those bus rides. And I guess we owe a good bit of that to a little two minute rock song out of England.
Plug in, and turn it up...
Back in the middle days of high school, me and my friends rode the bus to school every morning and took the same one back in the evening. Since we went to a county-wide magnet school, our bus ride would usually be well over half an hour, and even more than an hour on bad weather days. Being a group of sophomores, we needed something to entertain ourselves. I was smart enough to pick up a set of tiny speakers to go along with my discman, because the bus we were on didn't have a radio. I could do an entry alone about the speakers, as I went through no less than four sets in my sophomore and junior years, each one bigger, better, and requiring more batteries than the last. I won't, though, because I can't think of a good song to associate it all with.
As most groups of teenage boys are prone to do, we fixated on a lot of weird things and generally tried to make fools of ourselves as much as possible. One thing we would often do on the bus would repeatedly play a song, to see how long it took for the people in the front of the bus (freshmen and sophomores, underclassmen to us) to notice or to get irritated. And we developed our own set of standards and favorites, such that the Beastie Boys' "Intergalactic" or "Girls" would be played at least once a trip, or Fatboy Slim's "The Rockafella Skank" would never be allowed to play for its entire seven-plus minutes (it does kinda just keep going). And along the way, Blur's "Song 2" became our default number-one song of all time. It grew to such a mythological status for us that we started measuring distances and times in the number of repetitions of the track - since it was exactly two minutes long, it was very easy to tell time by. We knew what point on the road was one Song 2 away from the school, and I can think of several days on which we just put the song on loop for half an hour.
While all this was going on, generally we played cards. Playing cards on a bus was rarely easy - the seats were somewhat difficult to work around, the cards would slide a lot, and of course it was hard to really pay attention to what was going on. Every now and then, the bus would stop too fast and we'd all scramble to grab something before it clattered to the floor and slid up five or six rows. Despite all the irritations and messing around, we had a lot of fun on those bus rides. And I guess we owe a good bit of that to a little two minute rock song out of England.
Plug in, and turn it up...
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Greyest of blue skies
Finger Eleven - Bones & Joints
This song has too many broken hearts associated with it.
When I set out to start this project, I knew there would be many, many difficult entries to write, and I knew I'd have to start writing them eventually. Not every story can be about childhood, or the happy parts of discovering something new about music; and I wouldn't want to pretend that everything is easy or that I've never regretted something I've done in my life. And that's what this project is about: telling the stories no matter how bad we might feel about them. Catharsis, maybe. But isn't that why all of us are so addicted to music, to certain songs, artists? Because of the memories, or the way they make us feel. And I'm not going to ignore a song just because of the way it makes me feel.
Now I can't claim to be able to remember clearly everything that happened in my senior year of high school. But as it was with probably most of us back then, there was drama and melodrama and crumpled notes and brown-bag lunches. Senior year for me was really punctuated by two major breakups, and both of them seemed to revolve around this song. I should've known it would be trouble by the way I latched onto it from the first time I heard Finger Eleven's second album (and arguably their best). The album as a whole really resonated strongly with me, and perhaps it was just that it hit me during that period when being angsty was cool for our subculture.
So the story... yeah, there's a story in here. Near the tail end of my senior year I was in one of those high school relationships that never should have happened; it was my own personal version of "Say Anything". I was the slacker with a heart of gold (or at least one that tried to be that) and she was the brilliant quirky girl. Maybe it was just my persistence, but something came of it and we became a "thing." It wasn't perfect (as few things are), and the week leading up to prom was a complete mess. The event itself was generally good, I got to wear a tuxedo and looked good in it, and she was beautiful as always. After prom, our group went back to her house and stayed up most of the night watching movies. It would have been fine, if not for the fact that we were all participating in the Race for the Cure walk the next morning. So we did the walk on practically no sleep, tensions were high and nerves were frayed as they would naturally be in a situation like that. And still, we got through the whole event without much trouble, and I made it to the tuxedo rental place to return my suit and managed to get home in time to pass out for exhaustion.
Things continued to get rocky from thereon out. I really don't remember a lot of the specifics of how things went down, but I know I was growing concerned about her summer trip to Europe with a school group. I've always had abandonment issues; if I had to psychoanalyze myself I'd probably call it a result of being an only child and generally a latch-key one at that during my highschool years. Her going away for a few weeks combined with a similar issue that turned sour the summer before made me grow alternatingly bitter or needy, which in turn irritated her and the whole situation grew messy. The climax and the thing I most regret about those few weeks was when I wrote the words of this song on a note and left it in her locker. I went and sat outside on a bench, and after class let out and she had found it, she came and joined me. The dramatic movie lover in me remembers the exchange that followed in words that are probably much different than what really happened:
Her: So what's this all about?
Me: I... I don't know.
Her: I guess we had this coming, after the last few weeks.
Me: I guess so too.
There was a slow, dramatic pause; something cinematic.
Me: I just don't really know what I'm doing anymore.
Her: I guess it's for the best, then.
And then, she got up and walked away. At least, that's how I remember it playing out. I'm sure there was a lot more bumbling and poor word choices from me, and the whole thing probably lasted more than five sentences. But if I were to sum it all up, then that's how it would have to be. Over the next few weeks we tried our best to stay apart, while being friends if possible. It was tough in high school, since we suffered the fate of having a number of classes together. Eventually, during exam week, we worked things out and decided to give it a try again, and the rest of the summer was great, as good as it could be with the impending weight of going to different colleges hovering over our necks. That summer was probably one of the happiest of my life, as working things out can really serve to deepen a relationship. But then came August 23rd, 2001, when I went off to college and left her behind, and like a fool I let it all slip away like so much sand.
The more and more I think about it, that whole June of 2001 was really one of the definitive periods in my life so far. It was a really tough time, and I made a lot of stupid decisions. I saw her for the first time in years last summer, or at least I think I did - me and two friends had been in a rear-ending car accident on I-495. While we were standing on the median waiting for the tow truck, I definitely saw her pass by. I don't know if she recognized me. I tried to get in touch with her, but I never heard back. I can't say I'm too surprised, I know I handled things poorly after the summer ended and we went to college. I guess I was hoping that a few years not talking could have healed some things, but at the same time, I guess I'm not too surprised. She was one of the most important people in my life, someone that I loved dearly, and someone that I probably hurt more times than I even really knew. I hope someday that she forgives me, and knows how much I regret the bad decisions I made back in those days.
And that's what this project is about, in its barest elements. This project, the audiobiography, it's a way to release the sad as well as the happy memories. To see them all lined up in this jumble of random recollections, it's refreshing - just to know that every down point had ups as well, as well as the reverse. And starting at one of the down points of this story might make writing about the high points easier, in time. There's hundreds more songs that I have yet to write about, and a story like this proves to myself that I can actually write these things out.
Plug in, and turn it up...
This song has too many broken hearts associated with it.
When I set out to start this project, I knew there would be many, many difficult entries to write, and I knew I'd have to start writing them eventually. Not every story can be about childhood, or the happy parts of discovering something new about music; and I wouldn't want to pretend that everything is easy or that I've never regretted something I've done in my life. And that's what this project is about: telling the stories no matter how bad we might feel about them. Catharsis, maybe. But isn't that why all of us are so addicted to music, to certain songs, artists? Because of the memories, or the way they make us feel. And I'm not going to ignore a song just because of the way it makes me feel.
Now I can't claim to be able to remember clearly everything that happened in my senior year of high school. But as it was with probably most of us back then, there was drama and melodrama and crumpled notes and brown-bag lunches. Senior year for me was really punctuated by two major breakups, and both of them seemed to revolve around this song. I should've known it would be trouble by the way I latched onto it from the first time I heard Finger Eleven's second album (and arguably their best). The album as a whole really resonated strongly with me, and perhaps it was just that it hit me during that period when being angsty was cool for our subculture.
So the story... yeah, there's a story in here. Near the tail end of my senior year I was in one of those high school relationships that never should have happened; it was my own personal version of "Say Anything". I was the slacker with a heart of gold (or at least one that tried to be that) and she was the brilliant quirky girl. Maybe it was just my persistence, but something came of it and we became a "thing." It wasn't perfect (as few things are), and the week leading up to prom was a complete mess. The event itself was generally good, I got to wear a tuxedo and looked good in it, and she was beautiful as always. After prom, our group went back to her house and stayed up most of the night watching movies. It would have been fine, if not for the fact that we were all participating in the Race for the Cure walk the next morning. So we did the walk on practically no sleep, tensions were high and nerves were frayed as they would naturally be in a situation like that. And still, we got through the whole event without much trouble, and I made it to the tuxedo rental place to return my suit and managed to get home in time to pass out for exhaustion.
Things continued to get rocky from thereon out. I really don't remember a lot of the specifics of how things went down, but I know I was growing concerned about her summer trip to Europe with a school group. I've always had abandonment issues; if I had to psychoanalyze myself I'd probably call it a result of being an only child and generally a latch-key one at that during my highschool years. Her going away for a few weeks combined with a similar issue that turned sour the summer before made me grow alternatingly bitter or needy, which in turn irritated her and the whole situation grew messy. The climax and the thing I most regret about those few weeks was when I wrote the words of this song on a note and left it in her locker. I went and sat outside on a bench, and after class let out and she had found it, she came and joined me. The dramatic movie lover in me remembers the exchange that followed in words that are probably much different than what really happened:
Her: So what's this all about?
Me: I... I don't know.
Her: I guess we had this coming, after the last few weeks.
Me: I guess so too.
There was a slow, dramatic pause; something cinematic.
Me: I just don't really know what I'm doing anymore.
Her: I guess it's for the best, then.
And then, she got up and walked away. At least, that's how I remember it playing out. I'm sure there was a lot more bumbling and poor word choices from me, and the whole thing probably lasted more than five sentences. But if I were to sum it all up, then that's how it would have to be. Over the next few weeks we tried our best to stay apart, while being friends if possible. It was tough in high school, since we suffered the fate of having a number of classes together. Eventually, during exam week, we worked things out and decided to give it a try again, and the rest of the summer was great, as good as it could be with the impending weight of going to different colleges hovering over our necks. That summer was probably one of the happiest of my life, as working things out can really serve to deepen a relationship. But then came August 23rd, 2001, when I went off to college and left her behind, and like a fool I let it all slip away like so much sand.
The more and more I think about it, that whole June of 2001 was really one of the definitive periods in my life so far. It was a really tough time, and I made a lot of stupid decisions. I saw her for the first time in years last summer, or at least I think I did - me and two friends had been in a rear-ending car accident on I-495. While we were standing on the median waiting for the tow truck, I definitely saw her pass by. I don't know if she recognized me. I tried to get in touch with her, but I never heard back. I can't say I'm too surprised, I know I handled things poorly after the summer ended and we went to college. I guess I was hoping that a few years not talking could have healed some things, but at the same time, I guess I'm not too surprised. She was one of the most important people in my life, someone that I loved dearly, and someone that I probably hurt more times than I even really knew. I hope someday that she forgives me, and knows how much I regret the bad decisions I made back in those days.
And that's what this project is about, in its barest elements. This project, the audiobiography, it's a way to release the sad as well as the happy memories. To see them all lined up in this jumble of random recollections, it's refreshing - just to know that every down point had ups as well, as well as the reverse. And starting at one of the down points of this story might make writing about the high points easier, in time. There's hundreds more songs that I have yet to write about, and a story like this proves to myself that I can actually write these things out.
Plug in, and turn it up...
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
We're in stereo
The Verve Pipe - Villains
I think the first time I listened to The Verve Pipe's Villains was when I realized how truly awesome a power music had over me. For christmas in 1997, my grandparents got me my first discman (as well as a handful of CDs, this one included). The day was just like pretty much any other family holiday... lots of talking and children screaming, running around. I was 14, an only child, and had two or three cousins by that time. They were much younger than me, of course, so I was stuck in the uncomfortable middle - not being young enough to play with them, but too young to really be with the adults. So for a good portion of whatever holiday it was, I'd probably be off by myself, reading a book or watching television, or whatever I could find until it was time for dinner.
Well, this Christmas, I had something new to occupy my attention. I took my cd player and went off to a quiet room away from all the holiday chaos, and carefully opened the discman and every cd. I didn't really know much about The Verve Pipe except that they did that one song that everyone was loving that year, I dunno, something about being a freshman. But I put it in and started skipping around tracks until I found one that had a good intro, and it turned out to be the album's title track, Villains. Now, the song starts out with a clean electric riff in the left ear, and it goes on for a little while, enough for me to relax and get into the sound of it. Then, Brian Vander Ark whispers in my right ear (I turned the volume up this morning) and I shoot up out of my chair, startled that someone had snuck up behind me. It took me a little while to figure out what had happened, but when I did, I had to look at that little black cd player a bit differently. Afterwards, I sat back down and listened carefully to every second of that album, excited as to what a pair of headphones could bring to my ears. It was such a different kind of sound than what I heard from a desktop boombox, or even my dad's big stereo. Somehow, I had never really noticed until now that there was a lot more to music than just the song - the instrumentation, the mixing, production - all these things that I'd never really noticed before. And even though I was only 14 and barely knew what any of those words really meant, I knew that there was something going on that I was only scratching the surface of.
Plug in, and turn it up...
I think the first time I listened to The Verve Pipe's Villains was when I realized how truly awesome a power music had over me. For christmas in 1997, my grandparents got me my first discman (as well as a handful of CDs, this one included). The day was just like pretty much any other family holiday... lots of talking and children screaming, running around. I was 14, an only child, and had two or three cousins by that time. They were much younger than me, of course, so I was stuck in the uncomfortable middle - not being young enough to play with them, but too young to really be with the adults. So for a good portion of whatever holiday it was, I'd probably be off by myself, reading a book or watching television, or whatever I could find until it was time for dinner.
Well, this Christmas, I had something new to occupy my attention. I took my cd player and went off to a quiet room away from all the holiday chaos, and carefully opened the discman and every cd. I didn't really know much about The Verve Pipe except that they did that one song that everyone was loving that year, I dunno, something about being a freshman. But I put it in and started skipping around tracks until I found one that had a good intro, and it turned out to be the album's title track, Villains. Now, the song starts out with a clean electric riff in the left ear, and it goes on for a little while, enough for me to relax and get into the sound of it. Then, Brian Vander Ark whispers in my right ear (I turned the volume up this morning) and I shoot up out of my chair, startled that someone had snuck up behind me. It took me a little while to figure out what had happened, but when I did, I had to look at that little black cd player a bit differently. Afterwards, I sat back down and listened carefully to every second of that album, excited as to what a pair of headphones could bring to my ears. It was such a different kind of sound than what I heard from a desktop boombox, or even my dad's big stereo. Somehow, I had never really noticed until now that there was a lot more to music than just the song - the instrumentation, the mixing, production - all these things that I'd never really noticed before. And even though I was only 14 and barely knew what any of those words really meant, I knew that there was something going on that I was only scratching the surface of.
Plug in, and turn it up...
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