October 23, 2007

Nick Drake: "Pink Moon" (1972)

Once upon a time, life was different. People were not busy-bodies flying from one job to the next, from one love to another. People pined. People mourned. Nick Drake was one of those people. He might have been a bit of a mess, a bit spoiled, and a tad anti-social, but I see a trend...all the brilliant ones are. I've never been more moved by a biography of another person's life than Nick's. His life was short, he died when he was 26; he was nothing at all special during his lifetime. He was afraid to perform live, one of the many similarities I share with him. I was encouraged to know that true genius, true brilliance does not become actualized only under the spotlight. That being said, the eleven short songs collected on Pink Moon are all short and sweet, and not a one fails to convey a sliver of real life, of the artist's life. I can see Nick huddled in the corner of his dingy bedroom, softly singing to himself as he looks out the window upon the world he has closed himself off from. I have spent many hours in my own room, writing songs drenched in my own pains and sorrows, and a few joys. The soul pours out the negative, and retains the good things. I won't go into a song-by-song review of the album, because I don't feel right criticizing this album in any way. This is one man's interpretation and stuggle with the world he lived in. There is no need to judge that.

October 22, 2007

Dreams, Madres

I've been having very strange, very real dreams lately. This happens to me about once a month (on average). I can't go into detail, because I fear that the details of the dreams would not make enough sense to even properly portray an adequate visual. They're all jumbled in my head, but little snippets, little bits and pieces still stick out like a sore thumb. I don't really like dreaming. I never have. For some reason, I just started thinking about Owen Wilson in Behind Enemy Lines. He was awesome in that movie.


October 17, 2007


Even if it's possible for one to forget the mistakes they have made in the past, don't ever let it happen. For me, my mistakes are forever a part of me, inevitably. This is a curse and a blessing, except the edges blur between the two and they end up being one and the same. I will forever remember the things I have been through in this life, as long as I continue to awake each and every morning. Sometimes I get so scared thinking about how fragile my life is...sometimes I wonder if my mistakes are not more than I make them out to be. We should always learn something from every situation we find ourselves present in. I have learned over the years that I am not the ultimate source of right and wrong. I mean, your parents try to teach you that, but no one can teach you something like that...you really have to realize at some point (having been used to thinking you are a god among mortals) that, given the opportunity, you sure do make a mess of things. I feel sometimes like I should be handing out apologies left and right...but I know that apologies are words, and that usually words are not our friends. People get into so much trouble using words. I think people should own licences in order to use words. I know that saying anything sometimes would be such a huge step backwards. If things are, for the most part, all better now, and time has refined every rusty, jagged edge, then why would I dig up with words what's already laid to rest? I never meant to hurt anyone, and yet I have, and I can't take it back. I'm sure the pain has been reduced to a dull ache, but still...I never meant any harm. I have affected the lives of others that I believe are good people, people that deserve great things. I hope for the best in everyone's lives I have been a part of.


October 5, 2007

RYM Front Page!

My review for Sigur Rós' album Takk is the #1 featured review on rateyourmusic.com's front page! Whoohoo! Check it out here!

October 3, 2007


Sometimes, someone says or does something so ridiculous, I am completely convinced that Andy Kaufman is alive, and behind it all.

October 1, 2007

I Think "Myspace" Was Originally A Tool Used By The Romans In Attaching The Accused To Large Wooden Crosses...

I predict that Myspace will peak in 2008, and become virtually abandoned by the year 2012 (the Mayan Apocalypse). Actually, I would be flabbergasted if it even lasted that long. I must admit, I was a Myspace victim for a little under a year, until just recently, and never have I looked back and realized a bigger waste of my time and effort (and brain cells). Each login to Myspace is the equivalent of about thirty sniffs from a sash paint brush soaked in Killz. I look back and wonder...since when did I start calling thumbnail-sized pictures resembling people I know/once knew/want other people to think i know/well, i didn't friend them, they friended me/they look nice enough/this is a good band...friends?? The phone still exists, and text messages are pretty much identical to Myspace comments, and I have my phone with me all the time. I see no reason for any extra added steps involving the friendly day-to-day verbal exchange with my friends. It seems that Myspace is just a big ego-boosting ceremony for the majority of its members these days; a great way to allow others to view just how incredibly funny/talented/artistic/special you really are. What's really funny is that most of the time, the funny quotes and artistic pics and backgrounds are downloaded in insta-html from some dime-a-dozen Myspace outlet store from those with the actual talent (and time on their hands to waste) to begin with. So, in essence, the statements made by Myspace's members aren't really "look at how cool I am!", but more accurately, "look at how well this pre-fabricated, stereotypically artsy-fartsy background I found having desperately rummaged through all the tried-and-true Myspace graphics hotspots represents me!" Anyone with any real talent is expressing themselves privately, or on blogger (you knew the shameless, self-glorifying plug would interject itself sooner or later).

I guess my closing thought is this: If all of your Myspace friends jumped off a bridge, would you jump too? I honestly never thought that dusty old saying my parents constantly whipped out at me like a wallet-sized picture of Jesus nailed to the cross would ever make any real impact someday...

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