Archives : all posts by Dan

Unknown Artist - "Itaula Bava Yami"

That is Amami. Amami is a grown child, she does not like to work. It is not that she does not like to work, but that she has so much fun all the time, she is always singing and hooting, it often seems that she is not working, even if she is working very hard. Some of the other women, and some of the men, are put off by her sunshine. She will hoot, a hoot like you have never heard, and laugh, as soon as she wakes up in the morning. She does not care who is sleeping next to her, or who else close by is still sleeping and needs to sleep, she will hoot like "Deeee! Dee Deeeee!" Some people think she is crazy. I am tempted too sometimes to think she is crazy. But when she picked me to dance with that night, when she spun me around in the sand that one night on the beach, I admit I fell in love with her a bit. Her bright orange smile and her strong rough hands, her large and unshakeable frame, her movement, her slide and her sway. I think about her often. But my brother told me, "she is married to herself, do not think about it." That is hard to do when every day I roll over in the morning and half-open my eyes and wait to hear that golden hoot. [Buy]

White Denim - "Mirrored and Reverse"

Only the reflection spoke, ".seY"

[Buy from Full Time Hobby in the UK]

[credit: Bruce Davidson]

Dead Elephant Bicycle - "I Will Always Be"

The candles of my feet ache and singe the sore trunks of my legs. The path of my day glows like a translucent yellow band that I only need to follow. I can see it head first to the sink, I must need a glass of water. Then to the bathroom, must be a shower. Then back to the room, get dressed obviously, then out the door and down the front stairs. Mostly normal stuff the path leads to; post office, bank, pharmacy (right, I need paper towels). All day I follow perfectly the path, I can turn off my mind, I can think about other things, what a pleasure this path is, what a convenient turn of fortune. Until I find myself biking very far from my house, way to the north and very unfamiliar surroundings. My legs, now blackened with acid aches, bike on, following only the path. Maybe I need to meet someone way up here, or maybe I'm going to get my passport renewed, or maybe I'm supposed to take pictures in an industrial neighbourhood. And then the path twists under and up the other side of an underpass, and heads straight onto the highway. I pause. I don't have a car, and the path just stretches on as far as I can see, amongst the whizzing traffic of the highway. I follow the path. At the time I wondered why I was doing it. Now I know: I had no other objectives left. Nothing more important to do.

Dead Elephant Bicycle - "Drunken Child"

I followed the path for 8 days. After the first day on my bike, I realized I should be hitchhiking. It was amazing and poetic that even the people that were driving me would follow the path, every lane change, every pit stop, every drop off point, they followed it perfectly. Though I was afraid to actually mention it to them. I thought I would only say something if they deviated, but none of them did. One night I could see a strange pattern in the path in the distance, and as we approached it and slowed down, I realized that would be me having sex. I was more embarrassed that the path was 'watching' me have sex, I didn't enjoy it. The next day, she drove me into town, and it was sunny and hot and we got ice cream and walked on the dirt road. Then the path lead to a man selling glasses, and I tried on a pair of yellow tinted lenses. And everything looked yellow I couldn't tell the path from anything else. It disappeared. It felt terrible, horrible, and also totally liberating, like having your legs cut off and replaced with a pair of wings. I spent an hour or so debating the choice, I told the girl I was with all about it and she laughed and said the choice was obvious. I don't wear the glasses anymore, obviously, but sometimes I wonder if I'll run across the path again, and whether I'd be drawn to it.

[MySpace]

(thank you again, Moss Bailey)

Chet - "The Night The Night"

CRACK and a thousand documentary filmmakers set off to find the real Michael Jackson. CRACK and a slough (slew?) of tasteless jokes arc in the air like sad toilet paper rolls. CRACK and everyone in the room looks down at their stomachs, to their 8-year-old stomachs and there in their hands is a vinyl of 'Bad' and not a shred of the last twenty years. You change the subject, force yourself to think about something else, people die all the time. And they do. And movies and art and music and money will be made out of all this. I love Chet tonight, it's a beautiful crackling excuse not to have an opinion on anything. [Pre-order]

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So Michael Jackson has died. I can't write about Michael Jackson, though, I'm not nearly schooled enough, I would much rather write about Chet. But I did mention him back in May (amazing song still up, for those looking to hear memories) and Sean mentioned him, it seems unknowingly, yesterday.

Smith Westerns - "Tonight"

Tonight I held your parents in grey wrinkly arms in the hand-drawn graveyard, and held my breath. Tonight, I kissed a bit of beer into your mouth. Tonight, I raked money into piles, warmed my tired feet while it burned. Tonight, gift-logic reigned supreme, saved the planet from a near-disaster. Tonight there lay candles on the runway, candles in the clothes, candles in the cameras, candles in the food. Tonight was Beast, pure Beast. Tonight forgot who it was, left the wrong mad message in the wrong damn place. I'm going out tonight, and I'm going out with tonight. A small supper and a pre-drink is my hot hot boyfriend.

Smith Westerns - "Diamond Boys"

M'lady likes a cold bath in the fresh air of dawn. Dried with cotton and fed strawberries, I was once caught peeking at her porcelain flesh. I was beaten severely, but no amount of heavy blows could rid the image from my mind. I spent the next week cleaning grime traps in the corners of the kitchen, all the while smiling, thinking of the way she gasped when she spied my wandering glance. I know the beating was a formality, something she felt she had to do for the sake of appearances. We'll be together one day. I could find myself on an errand in the far wing of the library when she's studying her scripture. I could bring her extra lemon water for her lunch of bread and flowers. I could break open her bedroom window in the sludge of the night and steal her away. It's only a matter of time, we'll be together. And my young lips will grace her vile beauty with their passing.
Then I will be king.

[Buy Buy Buy now now now]

I haven't seen her in ages. We used to go out in high school, but a lot has changed since then. I'm married now, I've got Jared, who she's never met, and I weigh a bunch more (ha ha). I've found myself guessing what she's like now, I picture her face on a slightly taller body with a bit more wrinkles. She was funny, like a bit crazy, she would make weird sounds and motions with her hands. But I liked her a lot, and I'm thinking about her. Why do I keep thinking about her? I feel like I shouldn't, but it doesn't matter, I'll just go watch her band and say hello and we'll chat about our lives and that'll be it. But I keep thinking about what seeing her will be like. What will her band sound like? Maybe like soft folk or alt country. No, probably not. Maybe. I don't know! She's still kind of a mystery to me, a bit. I guess that's why I'm thinking about her so much. She used to wear a leather jacket that had a big picture of Bill Cosby on the back. And she wore a leopard-print skirt that the teachers used to look at and scowl but never said anything about. I was kinda proud that someone so weird liked me. I wonder what her band will sound like.

Finally Punk - "Piranha"

[Buy something, anything]

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Piranha-related content: Tom Scharpling held a 6-hour Best Show a few weeks ago, and Paul Scheer made an incredible call about being on the set of Piranha 3-D. It's 23:14, so you know.

Fiery Furnaces - "Drive To Dallas"

Inlaid Tuesday, wake up dry and heavy. Breakfast of toothpaste and fresh air, up the hill to the crest. It's quarter to nine, phone left bedside, sun shining shapes off the windows, strangers look happy today. Cash a cheque and mail a letter to an old boss, tying up loose ends. Trying to make a date by 5:30, tipped the day and let everything slide to the front, found wandering by 4:15. This is the part where only a few mistakes have been made. Our love is yet unpacked, obscured in cardboard boxes, forgiveness creamy and thick and cold and plenty. Stand marbled in a room made for big paintings, ceilings as high as the highest canvas. Waiting, keys and a tenner, and maybe a kiss, maybe a gift. I wonder what a fight will be like. Will it be cheap? Will it be quiet, full of guessing? Best not to think about it.

[pre-order from insound]

(image, thanks matt)

Double Dagger - "Vivre Sans Temps Mort"

"Hey everybody, how ya doin', I'm Trevor, I'm gonna be your team leader today up there on the climb, okay? You ever need anything, you talk to me, don't hesitate to ask me any questions. There are no stupid questions, okay? Not at all, I'm open to any and all concerns. 'Cause I'd hate for you to NOT ask me a question and then something happen because of it, you know what I mean? So, what you're gonna need to know as we start up the slope here is that it's all difficult, okay? There are no easy parts to this climb. There's not a time when you get to relax and say "gee, oh, okay, I'll have a chat and a snack and not pay attention to what I'm doing." There's no time for that, okay? It's all difficult, it all requires your attention and it doesn't ever get easier. And that includes, and this is deadly important, the climb down. Everyone thinks that's the easy part and they can just fuck off for the ride of it, you know? And it's fun, oh sure, it's exciting, la dee da, I climbed a mountain, I'm a big fuckin' rich white guy, or girl of course, and I'm flyin' down this mountain like I'm a big stupid idiot 'cause I can't wait to get to the bar down at the resort at the bottom. Well, wake up you sissy bitches, this is real business, this is your life, you have to concentrate, otherwise you'll have your life privileges revoked. By me. And by God. By me and God. Me and God are gonna kill you, understand? Concentrate. Focus. Look at me. Look at the back of me, of the back of your in-front buddy, and maintain some damn awareness of the things that are about to happen." *a wide-eyed finger across the throat, he quickly turns and bounds leaping up the side of the mountain*

[Buy]