Boogie Man, Boogie Man, Ooh, Ah

Sigur Ros: "Kveikur" 5/5

                       
  
I am not a music critic. I wish I was. Rating and reviewing records has always been something I wanted to do...and to an extent, I guess, I have done so. Ridiculously amateurish Christgau-esque blurbs for the junior college newspaper...Lester Bangs-influenced rants on my blog...I even wrote four or five feature reviews for a mainstream classic rock website, paid with the CDs I wrote about...

 ...but even those were submitted with a sense of uncertainty and trepidition, a paranoid sense that somehow, no matter how much I thought they were decent pieces, they weren't good enough. I felt like the guy who solicited them wasn't nearly as pleased as he said he was. Of course if I was wrong, and most likely I was since people don't ask you to write more after publishing your first, I was only sabotaging my own prospects.

No matter. I still maintain that I am no music critic. I know this is a fact for one reason and one alone: Sigur Ros.

First off there aren't enough positive/complimentary words in my vocabulary with which I could use to describe their music and it's effects on me. Believe me, I've tried. Not only have I tried to describe these things, I've already admitted to not having adequate terminology...more than once! I seem to be stuck. I have come to the point where I'm totally unable to be objective about this band. Now one could make a good argument that there is no such thing as a record review that is actually objective. Art doesn't allow for it. Music eludes it. Always has and always will. But my devotion to Sigur Ros has crossed the boundaries into a place where they can absolutely do no wrong.

So it's hard for me to do what an album review should really do, which is to share the feelings, emotions, etc. the music stirs up within the author as he/she listens to and contemplates the material. I do want to share those things, but as I already said, words fail me. They always will when it comes to Sigur Ros. To make things worse a tendency I've accepted as fact that Sigur Ros is a "love 'em or hate 'em" proposition. I don't know that I would be able to change the mind of a hater. The music may well do that over time...case in point, I have a strong suspicion that "Brennistein", from the new LP "Kveikur", will convince those without a propensity for angelic voices that these guys really do have a much more abrasive side that will appeal. "Isjaki" and "Raufstraumer" pack some incredibly catchy melodic lines that in another universe only slightly different than ours might be considered as "pop music". All the while avoiding the "balloons in the sky, nature movie soundtrack" sweetness of "Hoppipolla". Certainly far removed from just about anything vocalist Jonsi unleashed in his solo run during the band's hiatus (which is not to dismiss that music).

The least a record review should do is be able to describe the music, even if only in the most general terms. Once again Sigur Ros make it difficult with the new album. Their sound and style vary (I don't want to say "progress") so thoroughly that you can't even say, "Well, it sounds a lot like 'Takk'" or "I think it shares a lot in common with 'Valtari'" because not only do the comparisons fail, they wind up sounding ridiculous. The only common denominator between the individual albums in their catalog, that is consistently present, as I see it, is the otherworldly, innocent, gut-wrenching, sometimes heartbreaking sound of Jonsi's voice. It is that voice, I have to admit, even though I hold the other musicians contributions in equal esttem, it's that voice that sucked me in, that held me firm, that brought me back and that will keep me until the day I die and if there's a good God out there I'll hear it even after.

There's a lot of ambient noise scattered throughout "Kveikur". It's almost as if they've recruited Einsterzende Neubauten to take the place of the string section that seems less utilized here than on previous works. Huge German radios with broken speakers, blaring with such volume that even white noise becomes distorted. The title track especially trudges it's way through the cacophony and turns into one of the heaviest Sigur Ros performance this side "Popplagid". When the band play this song in concert there is, projected on a huge screen behind them, archival film footage of pre-Hiroshima a-bomb tests...nuclear wind blowing back a line of trees like an Oklahoma tornado. These are the images that I can't help but think of when I hear "Kveikur" and though the rest of the album isn't as...what?...metallic...there is a feeling of "Phoenix rising from the ashes"...it's just that the ashes are fallout and the Phoenix is the hope of beauty's surviving, the redefining of innocence by necessity...it's the need to consign memories to a new oral tradition so that they aren't lost on the other side of the holocaust...

Oh and look just how pretentious I've become! That's "rockcrit speak". It may well mean a lot to me, or better I should say it likely makes sense to me but someone else? "What the hell are you talking about?" Right? Of course I'm right. Which is further evidence that I am no music critic. At least not past "The Beatles were awesome" and "Sadly Justin Beiber has not come into his own and by all accounts he won't during the course of his lifetime". Both of those, I would assume, are "Duh" statements. Everyone loves the Beatles. If you don't like the Beatles, even if it's just a song or two, I want nothing to do with you. You were born without a soul and you frighten me. Then again, if you flat out tell me, "I don't like the Beatles" I will naturally assume you are a liar and so it will be okay to socialize with you (to the extent that I want to socialize with liars, that is). And if you're one of those hipster jackasses who wants to be first in line at Starbucks every morning and you try to tell me that "nobody likes the Beatles anymore", or "oh, they had their day in the sun, but that's long past"...mister, you're a fool. Moreover you're WORSE than a liar because you obviously don't know what the hell you're talking about. Then again I should expect no less from someone who wears a dark orange t-shirt with the Reeses's Peanut Butter Cup logo emblazoned across the chest. In. Public. Trying to act like you don't care if people think it's "cute". It is "cute". But I don't think "cute" is what you were shooting for, was it, Hoss?

But I digress. I'm only harping on about the Beatles here to make a point about why I can never review a Sigur Ros record (though I try...obviously, I try). In my mind, and I am as convinced of this as I am you'll never see Slayer on the Trinity Broadcasting Network. Between the two Sigur Ros is the better band. Although I should probably say that I do consider the Beatles more of a "band". I'm certainly not taking away from what is undeniably the art of the Beatles' music, Sigur Ros, to me, are much more "artistic collective" than "band". I suppose that's what puts them ahead, in my estimation. I don't know if they're conscious of this combination of "artist" and "band"...they have more than once claimed in interviews that they're only in it to make the music, and I believe them. I also believe that this is what makes them even more purely creative on that artistic level. It just happens. I honestly don't think they "make it happen". It happens. And when that's the case, when IT is in charge... That's where I want to be...



   

a couple memories of dad for fathers day (though they didn't turn out like I thought they would)

Christmas, early 70s. He got a watch.

It's Father's Day so I'm going to try to remember a few things about my dad. Which is  kind of sad because I don't really have as many as I know I should. And I've got a lot of bad ones and sad ones that I'd just as soon not get into at this point. Perhaps later depending upon what direction the blog takes.


For a long time dad worked for a cement plant and drove a big truck to and from companies that supplies rock and sand. He used to take me with him sometimes. I hated it. I was probably 12 or 13, probably even a year or two younger, but it was a real boring trip for me. It seemed a lot longer and farther than it actually was. It probably didn't take an hour to get there and maybe 15 minutes to get the cargo loaded into the truck. It seemed like forever to me. I was such a fool. If I'd had half a brain back then I'd be looking back right now at those trips as cherished moments. Instead all I can think of is how much of an asshole I was. He knew I didn't want to be there and for the first time I kind of realize that he likely didn't take me along for the fun of it or because he necessarily wanted to. There was probably just no place for me to stay at the time. Oh, I'm sure he would have loved it if these trips had been mutually enjoyable. He was proud of his occupation.

This picture was probably taken during their "dance parlour days"

I guess I knew from a very early age that my father and mother didn't get along so well. From as long as I remember she slept on the divan in the living room while dad slept with us kids in his bedroom. But it wasn't until I was in my early teens that I recall them fighting/arguing on a very consistent basis. There was a period of a couple of years where they tried to patch things up by going out to a "bar" every week...not really so much a bar as a place where people danced to live music. I never would have thought of my parents as "drinkers" no matter how casually. But I did find a bottle of orange flavored vodka (Yuck!) and one of Canadian Mist hidden in a small trash can in their bedroom. I should not have been snooping, I know. I don't think it really mattered to me. I know we were usually in bed and fast asleep by the time they got home. So I'm assuming this lifestyle was an attempt to smooth out the rough edges in their relationship. If that were the case it didn't last all that long.
   
     I don't remember what the fights were about. I do, however, remember that inevitably he would try to get me in the middle of them by having me validate a point he was trying to make. I never would do that. It wasn't my battle they were waging. It made me mad. I'm sure it exasperated my mother to no end. It got to the point where I was actually HOPING they would get a divorce because it was so painfully obvious to me that they didn't belong together. I don't think I'd come to the same conclusion nowadays but cut me some slack, I was only 15 years old.
   
     The situation actually did culminate in their separation and divorce. I think have written about that painful chapter of my life but I'll probably air it out again in more detail on this blog. Just not now. It's Fathers Day and I've already screwed this post up by picking on negative things. I'm sorry but I just write 'em as they come to me. That's what came to me this morning. So I'm going to hold off and wait until later to write about Pa. Don't get me wrong. I do have good memories. I miss him a lot since he passed away in 1999. Time was healing a lot of wounds when he left us.

Dad and Grandma in the green forest land of Vian Oklahoma.
When I see this picture I forget all about the bad times.
He was such a mana's boy..

cable tv as novelty

I was 16 when cable tv came to our small town. The only places that had cable back then (1978) were larger cities (at least that's how I remember it being). HBO was such a novelty. Watching full length feature films, with NO COMMERCIALS, only months after their theatrical release was unheard of. I still remember watching the original "Superman" (w/Christopher Reeves) having just seen it in the theaters a few months before. Cable tv was a godsend. No longer did we have to go outside to point and aim the antenna to the station we wanted (due west for OKC channels, northeast for Tulsa). Picture quality was amazing...I'm sure those things are taken for granted these days.

Mostly I remember HBO but also watched the PTL Network. Don't ask me why. I was kind of young for that, for one thing. I probably didn't realize how ridiculous it actually was but for some reason I was fascinated by Jim Bakker and the idea of a "PTL Club". I even sent a letter to them so I would get a nifty little PTL tie pin. It was pretty cool. But I quickly realized it was all a scam... Bakker and all those people were faith healers of the "name it and claim it" stripe. He had this poor boy believing that if I had enough faith God would do anything I asked of him. The one thing I wanted more than anything at the time was to have 20/20 vision. I wanted to be able to see clearly without eyeglasses. So one night Bakker was doing one of his little prayers where were supposed to ask God for what we wanted/needed and presumably when we opened our eyes it would be done (that's probably not exactly the way it was supposed to be but I was very young and can be excused for thinking of it the way I did). So I prayed. Fervently. Faithfully, or so I thought. I convinced myself that this was going to work. Of course when I opened my eyes I was just as legally blind as I was when I closed them. So what went wrong? According to the Bakker gospel I just didn't have enough faith.

It was all a load of bullshit, I realized. But from that moment on I developed a sick fascination with televangelists that I harbor to this day. I see them for what they are. Charlatans. Snake charmers. Decievers. Liars. Hypocrites. Extortionists. But in a twisted way...entertaining. I don't make fun of them because I know how so many people have been fleeced and negatively impacted by these hucksters. But by the same token they amuse me. So many of them are so obvious. It's a real wonder, in my opinion, that so many are taken in with their schtick. I also like to spot the flaws in their doctrine. I'm fascinated watching HOW they do what they do.

i got these records from somewhere

     Eventually I stopped buying my records at Cooks & Gibsons. I think the former actually went out of business before I was well into my teens. At that point most of my music was purchased at Sound Warehouse or Rainbow Records. There was a place in Norman called Shadowplay Records that I was lucky enough to visit a few times. It was probably the coolest store in Oklahoma and it's niche was dark, underground fare like The Cure, The Fall, Joy Division, that sort of thing. It may have only been my first visit but vividly recall buying my first Joy Division album there. It was the two record "Still", complete with JD button embedded into the thick paper stock of the record's cover. I was very curious to hear Joy Division, having read an incredible review of "Still" in Creem magazine. It used all kinds of metaphors to tie together the music and sounds of the album with the tragedy of Ian Curtis' suicide and my morbid disposition could not resist. It only took a couple of listens before I was firmly entrenched in the contingent of hardcore Joy Division fans.
     The first rock and roll album I ever "owned" was "Try Too Hard" by the Dave Clark Five and it was given to me by my mother. I have no idea why she got that particular one but I liked it. I couldn't have been seven or eight years old. I place the word "owned" within quotation marks because at that young age stuff like that was basically communal property shared between my brother and I. It's just that I was the one who staked the biggest claim to it. 
     We had received a few other albums from mom prior to that first rock one. There was a compilation of country hits performed by other artists. I don't where she came up with that one because I doubt it was legal for companies to release hit songs recorded by people that didn't write or perform the original. I don't guess it mattered to me at the time. In fact I KNOW it didn't because I had no idea what the songs were or who had done them before. There were a couple of songs that I liked. "Detroit City" was good and there was a version of Johnny Rivers' version of Chuck Berry's "Memphis, TN." A strange thing I remember is how my brother and I used to pretend we were the twin brothers whose parents were friends of my folks. We would write their names on the album cover like we were really them claiming ownership or something. It was like I would write "Jerry" and he would write "Jackie" or something. Which seems really weird right now but I think it was just a matter of never having known actual twins. The novelty of their identical appearances and similar names was likely fascinating to us and we expressed that by playing this game of pretend.
     I bought too many records at Sound Warehouse to count. But the think I enjoyed most about visits to that store was the loitering/browsing. Sometimes my friends and I would drive all the way to Oklahoma City to the big Sound Warehouse on May Avenue, sift through row after row of records, reading liner notes, admiring artwork and song titles, sometimes alphabetizing them when some inconsiderate customer had placed one out of order...We did all these things but one thing we didn't do was buy them. We'd spend a couple of hours in there and when we left we'd pick up a free copy of the Oklahoma Gazette and make like that's what we came for in the first place. Then we'd drive back home. We were such music geeks we thought that was a great way to kill an afternoon.
     My copy of Genesis' "The Lamb Lies Down of Broadway" was purchased at a little Family Dollar/Dollar General type store called Benjamin Franklin. I never had a clue what the name meant or what it might signify. Their record selection was pretty weak, too, just about the same size as Drury's. But by the time I spotted "The Lamb" I was already a huge fan of Genesis so I had to have it. Such a great record. 
     A few of my records were from the Columbia House Record Club. You don't see those anymore, they're relics of the past. It was the sort of deal where you'd get to pick 10 or 12 albums or 8-Track tapes for a dime (plus shipping and handling) and all you had to do was buy seven or eight albums at regular price over the next two years. Regular price meant "higher than you're gonna pay in a record store". Then they'd send you  the "Selection of the Month" and a catalog to order from if you so choose. You had like 10 days to return your Selection of the Month" or you'd get charged for it, whether you wanted/liked the album or not. It was a real pain in the ass to send back records so usually I wound up not bothering. Which meant I basically got my initial 12 records, three or four selections of the month and then a few months later a bill from a collection agency. I know, that's pretty low. My cousins had warned  me about record clubs. To hear them talk you'd thing it was like selling your soul to the devil. Low as it undeniably was, I pulled the same trick at least a couple more times not long afterwards (using different names and such).
     I did get a few good records out the selections of the month. I thought Boston's "Don't Look Back" was very good and probably well worth the money they expected me to pay for it. But the real winner was when I got Bruce Springsteen's "Darkness on the Edge of Town". A record that probably changed my life or at the very least helped me pull through a difficult time. I never would have bought it on my own. I'd heard a little about Springsteen but I was into punk and new wave at the time, that stuff definitely wasn't for me. But when you get a free album in the mail chances are you're gonna listen to it. I suppose, demons that they may well be, I owe the Columbia House Record Club much gratitude for introducing me to one of my heroes. Gratitude I'm sure they'd just as soon pass on in lieu of the $15 they originally asked for it. 
     As for Rainbow Records...the place is a legend. I'll have to write about it later.

first records and stuff

     The first record I ever bought, ie. paid my own money for, was the 45 RPM single of "For All We Know" by the Carpenters. Obviously I was not a seasoned rocker at that time. Which is something I'm certainly not embarrassed about right now. That was a great song. Most likely I got it because I liked the oboe in the introduction. I don't think I was even ten years old at the time and it's very likely I had no idea what an oboe even was. But I really liked whatever it was that made that sound. Nowadays my favorite part of the song is the gorgeous multi-tracked harmony parts. 

     I bought that record at a store called Drury's 5 & 10 ("five and dime"). It was as close to a department store as my small town could boast. They had a decent selection of toys, which was all I cared about before getting into music. I loved the little plastic soldiers. Drury's had a record section up towards the cash register and even though the selection was extremely limited I still could find something there every once in awhile. They sold me a few records that were warped though, and I didn't much care to buy from them.

     The main places I liked to buy records were at Clarks (which later became Cooks) in Shawnee and Gibson's in Seminole. I was a bit leary of Gibson's merchandise because they too had sold me warped records. But they had a good selection. Gibson's is where I bought my very first copy of Creem magazine. It had Lou Reed on the cover. As for Cooks, they were like a slightly larger version of Drury's. Me and my brother used to walk around speaking gobbledigook trying to make people in the next aisles think we were foreigners. Their record collection was great, too. I can still vividly remember buying my first David Bowie album there. I'd read all about him in Rock Scene magazine but wasn't so sure if his style was something I'd enjoy (to the extent that a pre-pubescent boy can truly appreciate an artist's style). But all they had was a two record repackaging of his late '60s material called "Images". It had awesome cover art with all of the songs represented in separate panes of a comic book. I actually liked the album very much and to this day I will insist that some of those old songs are just as good if not better than more recognizable ones from his more famous days.

     I bought a lot of records at those stores but the first LP I ever purchased was a year or so before and was at Drury's. Now this one I am kind of ashamed to admit, even though the kitsch factor is high..."The Partridge Family Album". Ugh! Yes, I watched The Partridge Family every week. It came on right after The Brady Bunch which I liked but not as much as The Partridge Family. I was still young enough to think that they were an actual band and not just actors. It was perfectly conceivable to me that the mother of a large family would be in a musical group with the her kids and drive them to shows in a school bus, or that a kid who couldn't be older than 10 himself could play the drums in said band. So yeah, I liked the "band" and I liked the album. My favorite song was "I Can Feel Your Heartbeat", with that weird spacey sound during the intro. That sucker ROCKED!!!

     One day we were going somewhere with our parents listening to the AM radio in the back seat when we heard an ambulance passing by. But when we looked out the window there was no ambulance. Eventually it was revealed that there was no ambulance at all, just a sound effect used during sections of a song by Bloodrock called "D.O.A." Of course that just blew me away. I had to have that record. I got the single which was backed by a song called "Children's Heritage". I thought it was as good as the A-side in it's way but "D.O.A." really appealed to a morbid taste I'd nurtured since first reading Famous Monsters magazine. What a creepy song. I won't listen to it anymore. Whenever I listen to "Bloodrock 2", the album it's featured on, I will always skip by it even though there's only one song left. But back then, hoo boy, it was every bit as cool as Alice Cooper (although I'm not sure if I was into Alice Cooper by that time). Later I bought the LP, really liked it and would wind  up buying all of their albums. I was conflicted about listening to them, though. I don't know if I can explain...there was some puritan side of me that felt the subject matter and the music of these Bloodrock albums were somehow "wrong". Hell, they may have been for all I know, but I would listen to them a lot and then for a long time I would be hesitant, for weeks at a time not playing them. How silly.

     That Partridge Family record and "Bloodrock 2" are the only albums I can remember buying from Drury's. Like I said, it probably had something to do with all the warped records they tried to unload. Plus for some reason they never seemed to have any Beatles or Rolling Stones albums. What was that all about???