Showing posts with label Norwalk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Norwalk. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Elvis Costello

I want to thank Ted for reminding me what a great artist Elvis Costello is.  Elvis Costello and his music has touched my life many times, as a child, growing up and as an adult.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

The Sanducky Mall and my dreams of monsters


I returned to the center of the universe last week-The Sandusky Mall.  Large malls were a novel phenomena in the heartland of the 1970s. These local edifices were both brothels, where the sins of lust and conspicuous consumption were fanned to fever pitch, and cathedrals that provided expiation and atonement.  This was an irresistible, sensual experience a dissatisfied, alienated teenager.  I devoted countless hours to searching behind the mall's garish facades, prowling its promenades, perusing the emporiums and boutique,s and spending my quarters in  the meretricious arcade, hoping to find that one thing that would bring gratification.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Neat Neat Neat


The Damned, Dave Vanian, Captain
Sensible, bass player, Rat Scabies
Growing up in Stultified, Ohio, I lived for the unusual.  Living in a town with a library that removed offense articles from magazines and record store that featured only family friendly music, stimulation was hard to come by.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Heavy Rotation on My iPod: The Cramps



I have been fascinated by The Cramps since 1982, when I heard their early single "Uranium Rock" from the International Record Syndicate's compilation album (that is right; two, 12 inch, grooved vinyl discs) that I picked up at the Sandusky Mall.  Also included were the first single by The Police, early music by Danny Elfman, in his old band Oingo Bongo, and a song by The Damned.  I can't remember what else was there, but there was plenty of history.

By then, The Cramps had been performing and recording over five years, having put out Psychedelic Jungle and the more polished Songs the Lord Taught Us.

There is plenty to say about The Cramps, their look, their style of dress, the stunningly beautiful female guitarist, their sound (a cross between rockabilly/roots rock and roll, punk rock, and classic psychedelic), but to me, they were just too much fun not to love.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Separated at birth: Black Swan

Friday, December 24, 2010 05:37 PM

 


One look at the poster art for Black Swan  and my 1981 class picture made me realize  what I had long suspected was true;  I do have a twin out there that I was torn from at birth by some bizarre flux in both time and space wherein I was sent backward through time and across space to the middle of Not Quite Nowhere, Ohio. Replace "ballerina" with "couch potato defaulting on his student loans" and the parallels are inescapable.  Even down to a hypothetical romantic interlude with Mila Kunis.

Black Swan was an amazing film to watch; great performances, breathtaking visual effects, and an abundance of cringe worthy creep. All these impressive elements fail to come together to make a whole that is greater than its sum.  

Much of Black Swan details the artist's conflict between the Apollonian and Dionysian aspects of creative expression.  The medium for this discussion is the White and Black Swan roles from the ballet Swan Lake.  Both these roles are traditionally danced by the same ballerina, in this case, perfection obsessed, Nina Auschenbach.   She has the technical (Apollonian) skills to dance the White Swan, but is told repeatedly that she needs to develope the passion and sensuality required for the Black Swan.  Her muse for the Dionysian Black Swan is the untamed, wild beauty of passionate co ballerina, Tadzio (Mila Kunis).

Nina's struggle to encompass both ends of the dichotomy has a dire effect on her and her art. As the Silenus  (the Dionysian "teacher figure," traditionally red headed) like Thomas, played by a very subdued Vincent Cassell, tells her, “the only person standing in your way is you.” This turns out to be true in many ways.

Casell was much more fun to watch as the wildeyed, manically grinning Joseph from Sheitan, (which I first read about here) to this very restrained but just as manipulative figure.

Black Swan also explores psychological thriller terrritory as Nina struggles to cope with her rapidly decaying world and the line between reality and fantasy becomes increasingly blurred.

In the final scene, Black Swan makes its last, and weakest, revelation; once again, the artist who gives so much of themselves to appease the cfritical masses suffers great personal injury at the expense of appeaseing the masses.

Saturday, December 25, 2010 06:33 PM

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Thank You for the Music


Wednesday, December 15, 10:05 am

I had another peaceful, perfect moment this morning.  Holding my coffee under my nose, looking out the back window at my snow covered yard, beautiful music on the stereo, the remains of an egg omelet that I had made myself on the table and everything was in place.   The universe had become balanced and I felt contentment at a great level.   It is hard to go to a place like that because they are so fragile.  Once you step out of the moment, they are gone, sending you back to an inferior place.

I think about these those beautiful moments of contentment and tried to make a list of what was so satisfying to me; there is the coffee, being in my own house, and the music.

Music is one of the reasons I enjoy being home alone.  I set my iPod on shuffle and crank op the stereo. Glorious, sensual music pours out of the speakers in a warm, glowing stream filling the air from the floor to the ceiling, with tiny, sparkling bits of sound.  


The Scream
My collection is very diverse, like several different collections combined.  I never know what will catch my ear. Sometimes  something will reach out and transform me, changing my feelings or perspective and it is not so much the genre, or lyrical quality or a specific artist;  sometimes it is just the sound.

The first time that happened was 1983, when I heard Siouxsie and the Banshees' first  album, The Scream (1978).  "Pure," the opening track is a spooky,  instrumental.  The weeping guitars,  baying moans and thunderous, rhythm less percussion caught my attention like nothing I had heard before.  Even now, nearly 30 years after I first heard it, it still makes me grin.


In my head, I saw the musicians recording the song in a dimly lit studio, wearing dark clothes, their movements slow and spare, music spilling out into the darkened corners.  "Jigsaw Feeling," the next track continued in the same way; but this time, the mood was one of barely contained energy; the slashing, squealing guitar mimicked the sound of a psychic jigsaw,  cutting someone's personality to pieces;  "One day I'm feeling total, the next I'm split in two."  A perfect reflection of the fragmentation I was feeling as a freshman in college.  By the time the final chord of the final song played, the universe had gone dark.

I had never heard anything like it before, because, you know, there was very little punk rock in small, mid-western towns like Norwalk, Ohio thirty years ago.

People who know me know I like to inflict my music choices on others-if you haven't received a mix CD from me, let me know and I will make you one today. I have no idea what will be on it or why, other than it sounded good to me.  It will be a learning experience for me.

Feeling the music in this new way gave me a new appreciation for the sounds I was hearing.  So dear Siouxsie, thank you for the music because it made my life so much richer.




Friday, December 17th, 2010 10:08 AM