At some point one must become OK with not knowing everything. In fact, one must become OK with the idea that much of what they come to know, they will eventually forget.
Sounds like a silly statement, probably, but it was something that popped in to my head this weekend while at the Brewer's cabin. I was sitting on the patio about 9:15am and trying to soak up the silence and enjoy the nature before heading back to dirty, smokey, mucky, grimy, sticky, hot Fresno, when I started pondering silly questions.
The Question(s)
I noticed these two trees (don't ask me what kind--I don't know a cedar from a fir from you name it, unless it comes to fruit) and how perfectly straight they seemed, but yet they weren't perfectly perpendicular to the ground. If they were so straight, what made them get like that? Why is it, again, that trees grow in different directions? ...and then how do some end up so straight like these two? That, of course, led to other silly questions... I know somebody knows the answer to that question about the trees, but why don't I know it? Maybe somebody told me why trees might grow like that, but I guess I probably just forgot.
So why do I forget? Why can't I know all of the stuff I was once told? Why couldn't I remember why trees grow the way they grow?
My (Completely Unfounded) Answer
It's too much for my brain. As a kid, I learned things, then for some reason, my brain dismissed them. So... at some point in my life, I must've realized that I can't remember everything I read or heard or saw... I must've then decided that it's just OK to never know it all and that I'll continue to forget all kinds of things for the rest of my life.
But why? Why is it OK that I forget?
Because that's how it is. No choice in that matter.
My Refreshing Conclusion (well, at least to me)
While all of that may sound like a downer or even a "who cares", I think it might point to the opposite. Maybe bad memories serve us well. Maybe they allow two of us to have the same conversation over and over again and it's OK. Maybe they allow us to dismiss the ways that we've been wronged without realizing we've dismissed them.
When it comes to music, forgetting how that one note in the Rach #3 can bring me to tears every time I hear it, is really priceless. That, in fact, drives me to listen to it again, and again, and again... but only after I've forgotten it just enough to make me long to hear it again. And when I do finally hear that note again (in context, of course), my heart flutters, the corners of my eyes dampen a little, my teeth show a little, and I'm satisfied all over again. (Sometimes I want to punch Mr. R in the face for being so damn good to me.)
I'm thankful for my forgetful brain. It helps put smiles on my face time and time again.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Forgetfulness = Happiness
At some point one must become OK with not knowing everything. In fact, one must become OK with the idea that much of what they come to know, they will eventually forget.
Sounds like a silly statement, probably, but it was something that popped in to my head this weekend while at the Brewer's cabin. I was sitting on the patio about 9:15am and trying to soak up the silence and enjoy the nature before heading back to dirty, smokey, mucky, grimy, sticky, hot Fresno, when I started pondering silly questions.
The Question(s)
I noticed these two trees (don't ask me what kind--I don't know a cedar from a fir from you name it, unless it comes to fruit) and how perfectly straight they seemed, but yet they weren't perfectly perpendicular to the ground. If they were so straight, what made them get like that? Why is it, again, that trees grow in different directions? ...and then how do some end up so straight like these two? That, of course, led to other silly questions... I know somebody knows the answer to that question about the trees, but why don't I know it? Maybe somebody told me why trees might grow like that, but I guess I probably just forgot.
So why do I forget? Why can't I know all of the stuff I was once told? Why couldn't I remember why trees grow the way they grow?
My (Completely Unfounded) Answer
It's too much for my brain. As a kid, I learned things, then for some reason, my brain dismissed them. So... at some point in my life, I must've realized that I can't remember everything I read or heard or saw... I must've then decided that it's just OK to never know it all and that I'll continue to forget all kinds of things for the rest of my life.
But why? Why is it OK that I forget?
Because that's how it is. No choice in that matter.
My Refreshing Conclusion (well, at least to me)
While all of that may sound like a downer or even a "who cares", I think it might point to the opposite. Maybe bad memories serve us well. Maybe they allow two of us to have the same conversation over and over again and it's OK. Maybe they allow us to dismiss the ways that we've been wronged without realizing we've dismissed them.
When it comes to music, forgetting how that one note in the Rach #3 can bring me to tears every time I hear it, is really priceless. That, in fact, drives me to listen to it again, and again, and again... but only after I've forgotten it just enough to make me long to hear it again. And when I do finally hear that note again (in context, of course), my heart flutters, the corners of my eyes dampen a little, my teeth show a little, and I'm satisfied all over again. (Sometimes I want to punch Mr. R in the face for being so damn good to me.)
I'm thankful for my forgetful brain. It helps put smiles on my face time and time again.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Mind Blowing Radiohead Covers
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Music that pisses me off (that probably shouldn't)
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Musicovery is web2.0neato for finding new music
The New Boléro
Bolero is a 3/4 dance that originated in Spain in the late 18th century, a combination of the contradanza and the sevillana.[1] Dancer Sebastiano Carezo is credited for inventing the dance in 1780[2]. It is danced by either a soloist or a couple. It is in a moderately slow tempo and is performed to music which is sung and accompanied by castanets and guitars with lyrics of five to seven syllables in each of four lines per verse. It is in triple time and usually has a triplet on the second beat of each bar.I'm sure I'm not the first to think this, but I always think Ravel's Boléro is so evocative (I hate that word, but can't think of a better one for this case). It's so simple, so elegant, yet so mechanical and complex at the same time. Some say this is his most famous work. I'm curious as to how a piece like this ended up influencing guys like Philip Glass and Steve Reich, due to the blatant minimalistic characteristics it possesses. I've always loved Ravel's Boléro. I love how it builds intensity without letting you realize it's building intensity. I love the simplicity of the melody. I love thinking about how much control the players must have in order to keep the same time for 15 minutes, and yet only grow in dynamic just ever so slightly as each second goes by; you'll ruin the whole thing if you let yourself go, lose control, and just go to town even for one little tiny note... it must be so tempting at times. And the cathartic end just gives this sort of balls-out, classical-music distortion fulfillment... It's like all of this careful and beautiful work was done for 14 minutes, and then everyone just shouts through their instruments for the last minute. Awesome. Today I've recently realized, however, that there are a few pieces by a few of my favorite bands that sorta fit a modernized mold as the Boléro:
- Mogwai's "New Paths To Helicon, Pt I"
- Mono's "Halcyon, Beautiful Days"
- Sigur Rós' "Olsen Olsen"
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
A little time...
Vinyl vs. MP3 and Piano Snobbery
It's amazing... I never thought I'd really be able to tell such a difference.
Background
After buying my first turntable (Thorens TD-125 MKII) about a month ago now, then picking up some audiophile-ish speakers (Dynaco A-40XL) (I like to call em "speaks"), I've indulged in to the world of the plastic-y, music-y stuff. More on this in another post...
Anyway, I just popped on the Dave Brubeck Quartet's "Dave Digs Disney" album (ripped as 160Kbps mp3's) and was amazed at how digital the piano sounded in the intro. I've listened to this album probably 30 times and I'd never noticed this before. I mean, it always just sounded like a piano--this sounds aaalmost like a modern electronic stage piano. It seems that listening to the vinyl goodness at home has effected my music listening.
Piano Snobbery
I'll openly admit that I'm a piano tone snob. I have a great piano at home (although a tad out of tune), but I won't play it because the tone bores me. And for anything that claims "piano", the further you get away from real piano sounds, the greater my emotions heighten towards detesting the sounds being made from that instrument. It generally causes me to turn the music off. Of course there are exceptions though. But hearing this recording after being battered by mp3 compression almost makes me want to turn it off. Weird.
Maybe it's time to jump on the bandwagon and use AAC instead of MP3... or buy an external HDD and rip everything as FLAC...? I really hope that listening to vinyl won't taint my life with music like learning Music Theory in college did (fat chance though, it seems). I don't regret, by any means, taking those Theory classes (kinda had to since they were required for the major, but still), but they changed every music listening experience I've had since; sometimes I'm happy for that, and sometimes it frustrates the crap out of me. (Once again, ignorance really is bliss, I suppose)
In any case, here's that Brubeck tune:
"Alice In Wonderland", Dave Brubeck Quartet, Dave Digs Disney
Monday, June 23, 2008
I'm finally going to a show
I'm not quite sure, but I think the last big-name show that I went to was when I saw Radiohead at The Shoreline, back on their Hail To The Thief tour (geez, was that really 5 years ago?), with my good friend Doug (was that a 12er of Bass that we "quenched our thirst" with in the parking lot beforehand?). In any case, Sigur Rós should be a good way to break that streak; I'm excited to see what kind of presence they bring in a live setting.
Althoooough... Peter sent me a link to NPR interviewing them, and I have to say that it evoked some interesting emotions, that might have changed my opinion of them. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss when it comes to my perception of bands and their music (one reason why I've usually stayed away from watching music videos--well, back when MTV actually had music videos on). Here's that interview:
Friday, June 20, 2008
Led Zeppelin - Since I've Been Loving You (Live @ Blueberry Hill)
Led Zeppelin: Since I've Been Loving You (BBC Sessions)
Blue Veins - The Raconteurs
A couple weeks ago, Scotty turned me on to The Raconteurs (w/Cat Power) on Austin City Limits 2006 show that was on PBS in HD. I'd never really been a huge fan of The White Stripes (probably as a result of not really listening to them much), and hadn't heard anything really of The Raconteurs since their first album--and even then, it was maybe one track, one time. Decent, I thought. Holy merde though. I hadn't expected to be so impressed--which is probably partially why I was so impressed. Totally money. They did a few tracks which were good (I think off of "Broken Boy Soldiers"); the cover of "Bang Bang" was freaking great; and then this tune--"Blue Veins". I'll let it speak for itself, but man did I dig it. I couldn't stop flashing back to Zeppelin's "Since I've Been Lovin' You", which just so happens to be one of my favorite tunes, period. Check it...