Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here (click to listen)
I'd think it's likely that everyone, everywhere, probably has some kind of story dealing with this song. No matter where it's played, someone will undoubtedly chime in with "this song reminds me of when..." and then there's stories galore, some happy, some sad, some altogether worthless. But stories, stories as far as the ear can hear. Ironic, then, that the song be one of such solitude and detachment, when it has the power to bring everyone together. Maybe that was their intention all along?
But this song reminds me of when I was a junior in high school. We had a radio station at my school, nothing formal, and actually it was quite illegal the way we ran it. We were transmitting at very low power, on a frequency that we had no legal claim to, and the studio was simply a room in the cafeteria that had been allocated for one of our electronics classes. The setup was no more than two CD players, a tape deck, two microphones and a four channel mixing board, but it was fun (and pretty advanced for being free radio in high school). The station only really lasted for two or so years, my last two years of high school. I prefer to assume that it fell apart without my presence, however true that may be. It's nice to dream about being that important.
One day after school, I was hanging out in the station during a friend's show, waiting for my then-girlfriend to get out of whatever after-school activity she was involved in. It was a lazy afternoon in the spring, not too warm or cold outside, and no real need to be anywhere. I was laying on the couch, not really talking to him and just relaxing, when he put the song on. I had never really heard it before. I guess that's not true, really, as a song like this is never heard for the "first" time. I guess it would be more accurate to say that I really listened to it for the first time. At the time I didn't know the story behind the song; barely knew the names Syd Barrett or Gilmour or Waters. But something about it resonated within me, perhaps the distance, the detachment.
I wouldn't say that listening to it that day made me feel alone, or abandoned. More than anything, it just left me wanting... something. Some kind of connection, something to attach to. But there wasn't anything, not then. I laid there, staring at the ceiling, for what must have been ten or twenty minutes before anyone said anything again. Something about that song had taken the wind out of both of us, removed that standard chatter that happens just when time passes. Eventually, the girl I was waiting for showed up, and she sat down on the couch with me. I held her hand for a while, just wanting to feel that connection. The warmth. And it was there, and eventually things felt right again.
She left me that summer, right near my birthday, either over the phone or by letter or by some other distant method. One present I got that year, turning 17, was a CD copy of Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" LP. Even though I couldn't bear to listen to the title track, I put it in my CD player anyway and let it wash over me. The distance was what I felt more than anything else; that, and the subtle beauty of it all. It was the first time I was freshly alone, and it just felt... right somehow, to listen to that album, then, when I felt it the deepest.
Today, when I hear the song, I know the story behind the album, and the mysterious circumstances surrounding its recording, the album's intention to describe the detachment of society at the time, and any number of other "meanings" put forth by the band. But whenever I talk to anyone about it, they always have their own story. So if you've got a story having to do with this song, and I don't doubt that you do, please share it here. Share it with me, and with the other readers. Help us all find solace in the fact that such a desolate sound can bring people together.
Plug in, and turn it up....
Monday, January 29, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Amplify Your Airwaves
I'm starting a new feature here. With each entry, you can click on the song to download it. Convenient! Now you don't have to hum along to get the real feeling.
Killing Joke - The Death and Resurrection Show
It's somewhat hard to believe that I would come across a song like this, never mind enjoy it and play it regularly. Most people assume I stay away from the heavy stuff; things with loud guitars and massive drums. But everyone has an angry music phase, and I'm no exception.
I didn't know much about the realms of independent music when I started as a DJ on the college radio station, WUVT. Sure, I thought I did - and I probably knew more than most people. But I had never heard of many bands that are staples of my ears these days: Belle & Sebastian or The Dismemberment Plan come to mind. I didn't know about independent record labels like Touch & Go, Quarterstick, The Militia Group, Ipecac, or any number of other ones that couldn't be found at the local Wal-Mart. So joining up with WUVT gave me a chance to explore things I'd never heard of, or even never though to look for before.
My first show on the station was on our AM sister station, sort of a training grounds before people moved up to FM. I got there early that day, and I wandered around the station a bit to acquaint myself with the new surroundings. I gazed through thousands upon thousands of albums, looking for anything that sounded familiar. While flipping through albums in our newly added shelf (which we call rotation), I happened across this album that said it guested Dave Grohl on drums. I thought "why not? I like the Foo Fighters. This couldn't be much different, right?"
Yeah. Right.
I started off the show safely, with a Verve Pipe track. Nervously, I took the microphone from time to time to tell everyone what it was they'd just heard (if anyone was even listening). About 20 minutes into the show, I remembered that album, what was it again? Killing Joke. Ha, that sounds intense. Well, I'd never really considered Dave Grohl's affinity for the harder stuff before. I popped it into CD2, cued the track up, and faded in. Within the first few seconds of "Ja-jug ja-jug-jug" crunchy guitars, I knew I was finding something new for myself. This was what I came to this station for! This is what independent music was all about! Something I hadn't heard before. Something... edgy.
From there on out, I was always in that rotation section, looking for what was new and would turn my ears just the right way. I found a lot of good music on that shelf - Laguardia, Apollo Sunshine, Wesafari, Danielson, Anathallo, Sufjan Stevens... honestly the list could go on and on. Very few things ever packed quite the same punch as that one Killing Joke track that I stumbled upon one day.
And it would come back around again, from time to time. Several years later, just a few weeks ago now, I was hanging out with the WUVT staff (of which I'm now a part) in our office, and we decided that it was time to forcefully remove a piece of furniture from the studio. There was a couch there, one that had been there since long before any of us had started, and its time had definitely come. Who knew what kinds of things had happened on that couch, or the things that could be growing inside it. It needed to go. And it just so happened, as we grabbed saws and started kicking at armrests, that the song came over the airwaves. I had pre-recorded a show with the station's music director, and we had tossed The Death and Resurrection Show in the middle somewhere, just to turn it up a notch. And it couldn't have come up at a more fitting time, as we destroyed that decrepid old rack.
Removing it was also just another step in the rebirth of WUVT, something that's been going on all year. The station had stagnated some in previous years, and this year's staff was finally getting things done. We were scheduling regular concerts, gaining visibility in the community, there was a new promotions campaign... and then, over winter break, the station was struck with a major setback. Our transmitter started having problems, major problems, and our reach was crippled. Barely able to broadcast outside the town, we were unsure what to do. But something interesting happened - our staff worked twice, three times as hard as they had before (which was already a monumental effort) to get the word out about our situation.
And amazingly, people listened.
Something we hadn't really counted on was how well our cries would be heard by alumni, connections, friends of friends, and others. Our station's online stream was still getting the signal out. And it still is. As it stands now, we've made extraordinary progress in just a few short weeks. The road from here isn't going to get any easier, and we've still got a heck of way to go in rebuilding the station and our transmitter. But there's something about WUVT that just can't be held down, it seems - something edgy, something in the way the staff is always looking to try something new to get noticed. It's what independent radio is all about.
Talk about your resurrections.
Plug in, and turn it up...
For information about how you can help WUVT get back on the air and back to full power, PLEASE visit our website at www.wuvt.vt.edu. Thank you for your support!
Killing Joke - The Death and Resurrection Show
It's somewhat hard to believe that I would come across a song like this, never mind enjoy it and play it regularly. Most people assume I stay away from the heavy stuff; things with loud guitars and massive drums. But everyone has an angry music phase, and I'm no exception.
I didn't know much about the realms of independent music when I started as a DJ on the college radio station, WUVT. Sure, I thought I did - and I probably knew more than most people. But I had never heard of many bands that are staples of my ears these days: Belle & Sebastian or The Dismemberment Plan come to mind. I didn't know about independent record labels like Touch & Go, Quarterstick, The Militia Group, Ipecac, or any number of other ones that couldn't be found at the local Wal-Mart. So joining up with WUVT gave me a chance to explore things I'd never heard of, or even never though to look for before.
My first show on the station was on our AM sister station, sort of a training grounds before people moved up to FM. I got there early that day, and I wandered around the station a bit to acquaint myself with the new surroundings. I gazed through thousands upon thousands of albums, looking for anything that sounded familiar. While flipping through albums in our newly added shelf (which we call rotation), I happened across this album that said it guested Dave Grohl on drums. I thought "why not? I like the Foo Fighters. This couldn't be much different, right?"
Yeah. Right.
I started off the show safely, with a Verve Pipe track. Nervously, I took the microphone from time to time to tell everyone what it was they'd just heard (if anyone was even listening). About 20 minutes into the show, I remembered that album, what was it again? Killing Joke. Ha, that sounds intense. Well, I'd never really considered Dave Grohl's affinity for the harder stuff before. I popped it into CD2, cued the track up, and faded in. Within the first few seconds of "Ja-jug ja-jug-jug" crunchy guitars, I knew I was finding something new for myself. This was what I came to this station for! This is what independent music was all about! Something I hadn't heard before. Something... edgy.
From there on out, I was always in that rotation section, looking for what was new and would turn my ears just the right way. I found a lot of good music on that shelf - Laguardia, Apollo Sunshine, Wesafari, Danielson, Anathallo, Sufjan Stevens... honestly the list could go on and on. Very few things ever packed quite the same punch as that one Killing Joke track that I stumbled upon one day.
And it would come back around again, from time to time. Several years later, just a few weeks ago now, I was hanging out with the WUVT staff (of which I'm now a part) in our office, and we decided that it was time to forcefully remove a piece of furniture from the studio. There was a couch there, one that had been there since long before any of us had started, and its time had definitely come. Who knew what kinds of things had happened on that couch, or the things that could be growing inside it. It needed to go. And it just so happened, as we grabbed saws and started kicking at armrests, that the song came over the airwaves. I had pre-recorded a show with the station's music director, and we had tossed The Death and Resurrection Show in the middle somewhere, just to turn it up a notch. And it couldn't have come up at a more fitting time, as we destroyed that decrepid old rack.
Removing it was also just another step in the rebirth of WUVT, something that's been going on all year. The station had stagnated some in previous years, and this year's staff was finally getting things done. We were scheduling regular concerts, gaining visibility in the community, there was a new promotions campaign... and then, over winter break, the station was struck with a major setback. Our transmitter started having problems, major problems, and our reach was crippled. Barely able to broadcast outside the town, we were unsure what to do. But something interesting happened - our staff worked twice, three times as hard as they had before (which was already a monumental effort) to get the word out about our situation.
And amazingly, people listened.
Something we hadn't really counted on was how well our cries would be heard by alumni, connections, friends of friends, and others. Our station's online stream was still getting the signal out. And it still is. As it stands now, we've made extraordinary progress in just a few short weeks. The road from here isn't going to get any easier, and we've still got a heck of way to go in rebuilding the station and our transmitter. But there's something about WUVT that just can't be held down, it seems - something edgy, something in the way the staff is always looking to try something new to get noticed. It's what independent radio is all about.
Talk about your resurrections.
Plug in, and turn it up...
For information about how you can help WUVT get back on the air and back to full power, PLEASE visit our website at www.wuvt.vt.edu. Thank you for your support!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Cold Mornings and Colder Air
Eef Barzelay - Thanksgiving Waves
Something happened to me for the last few months, I guess. I got all wrapped up in work, and I went to Australia, and then to Illinois, and along the way I forgot to update. Or didn't have time to update, I'm not really sure. That's not to say I have tons of free time now either, but at least it's a start.
Work is what this recollection comes down to, anyway. It's a recent memory, only within the last year. But it's vivid and every time I listen to this track I can feel the bitter cold air of 5am as I walked down darkened streets, ones that I got to know too well. I would walk to work to open the store several days a week, since I didn't have a car yet and it was really close. And even though it was late spring and early summer, it was still rather brisk that early - probably the coldest time of day, as the earth had cooled down after hiding from the sun for enough hours.
The sparsity of the song really fit my walk well, and it usually came up on shuffle on the walk there. It's sparse, just guitar and voice, two more sounds than the nearly none I'd be hearing without them. Eef's haunting voice cracking in my ears and that crisp, clear acoustic guitar getting played to death as it builds to a crescendo........ then breaks and fades.
Waves.
Life really moves like the ocean, I think sometimes. A lot - a whole lot - has happened to me in the six months I've neglected this, the project I was once so rabid about. But then, how different is the me of now from the me of then? I'm busier. I have more responsibility at work. My keychain is bigger. I have a car to get me to my new store across town.
But every now and then, Eef Barzelay comes on during my drive in on 5am mornings, as the air outside is well below freezing and far colder than any I'd walked in that summer. And I have to wonder to myself if anything's really changed, if anything ever really changes. Or maybe in advancing, I just end up making the same steps again, just somewhere different.
One would only assume the tide is rising. But I can never really know for sure.
Plug in, and turn it up...
Something happened to me for the last few months, I guess. I got all wrapped up in work, and I went to Australia, and then to Illinois, and along the way I forgot to update. Or didn't have time to update, I'm not really sure. That's not to say I have tons of free time now either, but at least it's a start.
Work is what this recollection comes down to, anyway. It's a recent memory, only within the last year. But it's vivid and every time I listen to this track I can feel the bitter cold air of 5am as I walked down darkened streets, ones that I got to know too well. I would walk to work to open the store several days a week, since I didn't have a car yet and it was really close. And even though it was late spring and early summer, it was still rather brisk that early - probably the coldest time of day, as the earth had cooled down after hiding from the sun for enough hours.
The sparsity of the song really fit my walk well, and it usually came up on shuffle on the walk there. It's sparse, just guitar and voice, two more sounds than the nearly none I'd be hearing without them. Eef's haunting voice cracking in my ears and that crisp, clear acoustic guitar getting played to death as it builds to a crescendo........ then breaks and fades.
Waves.
Life really moves like the ocean, I think sometimes. A lot - a whole lot - has happened to me in the six months I've neglected this, the project I was once so rabid about. But then, how different is the me of now from the me of then? I'm busier. I have more responsibility at work. My keychain is bigger. I have a car to get me to my new store across town.
But every now and then, Eef Barzelay comes on during my drive in on 5am mornings, as the air outside is well below freezing and far colder than any I'd walked in that summer. And I have to wonder to myself if anything's really changed, if anything ever really changes. Or maybe in advancing, I just end up making the same steps again, just somewhere different.
One would only assume the tide is rising. But I can never really know for sure.
Plug in, and turn it up...
Thursday, June 29, 2006
How to be colorful
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...
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 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...
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