My brother and I are always calling each other with random questions or observations. The random nature of these questions and observations of course dictates that the need to share them comes at random times. Thankfully, we live in the 21st century, which means that we all have portable communicator devices (read: cell phones) on our person at all times - which is how I found myself standing outside a bar at one in the morning discussing outdated colloquial expressions.
My brother thought it was funny that we still use the expression “hold your horses.” Neither of us has ever even touched a horse, much less rode one or, uh, held one. I imagine that this is the case for most people. The majority of us are city dwellers. Outside of childhood trips to the petting zoo, we don’t come into regular contact with horses. We drive cars or take public transportation to get around and we ride bikes and skateboards for fun. But we don’t say, “stop the bus” or “hold the Volvo” when we want someone to settle down. We say “hold your horses” and everyone knows what that means, despite the fact that very few of us have any first hand experience with horses or the effort it takes to hold them.
Another expression that falls into this category is “jump on the bandwagon.” Without Google I wouldn’t even know what a bandwagon is, but I certainly understand that “jumping on the band wagon” means doing something because a lot of other people are doing it. Often times this expression is leveled at someone as an accusation, the implication being that they are incapable of independent thought. Sometimes though, things become popular all of a sudden and it’s hard to say whether you’re jumping on the bandwagon per se, or you just happened to be on another wagon heading in the same direction.
Which is where we find ourselves with singer Benjy Ferree. He’s got a new album out on Domino Records, and that album has been accompanied by the standard new album promotional effort. This means that anybody with an ear to the ground is going to catch on at around the same time. Sure, he made a smaller splash with his first record, which a lot of us missed, but his sophomore effort is a smash.
Come Back To The Five And Dime Bobby Dee Bobby Dee sounds like an R&B album from the 60s recorded by AOR musicians from the 70s and driven to the record plant in a brand new Prius. The drums crackle with reverb and the piano player sounds like he just came from church. A string section fills out the low end while a guitar grinds through the mids and highs. Above it all is Ferree, singing his ass off about death, fear and a host of other existential concerns. You might say the sound is timeless, which is not just an expression in this case. It’s a compliment and it means that nobody will struggle to figure out why it still sounds good 50 years from now.
Have you heard about this Obama guy? He was recently sworn in as the 44th president of the United States of America. It happened on Tuesday, and according to a news stand I passed on the way to work on Wednesday it was an historic event. Lots of people are excited, most of them because of the color of his skin. After hundreds of years of codified, subtle and not-so-subtle discrimination this country has finally embraced racial equality in the highest office of the land. Can I get an Amen?!
That said, I think that if we’re all really being honest with ourselves then we have to admit that Obama’s presidency represents more than just overcoming the racial barrier. If there’s any truth to the propaganda I’ve seen all over the city, Obama’s followers also believe in the abstract concepts of hope, progress and change. Which is just another way of saying, “If you put on more one more lying, cheating, morally corrupt politician in charge of this country we are going to start a fucking revolution.” As a hater of politicians and a supporter of revolutions in general, I have to say I agree with this sentiment.
But I’m also picking up on something else, something that is just under the surface that has not gone unnoticed by a lot of people. The honesty conveyed by our new commander-in-chief seems genuine. It’s not the fake-ass, I’m just a regular kind of guy “honesty” (with air quotes) perpetrated by inbred aristocrats who cut their teeth in Ivy League secret society. It’s more like the Chris Rock Head of State kind of honesty, where he simply declaims what people already know - or suspect - to be true. I’m not saying he’s gonna tell us who shot Kennedy or anything, but at least he admits to trying drugs when he was young. For a politician, this is a huge step.
I would like to see a little more of this from those among us who have a high profile public persona. With the exceptions of rock stars - who are supposed to live like travelling hedonists - nobody can seem to admit they are human, that they have human weaknesses and desires. Young people fuck up. They smoke pot and crash their parents’ cars. Old people fuck up too. They get drunk and lie to their wives and sleep with young people. It doesn’t mean that they are unfit to do their jobs. It just means that they’re not good at hiding the parts of their lives that most people can be discreet about because they don’t live under a spotlight. Again, if we’re being honest with ourselves, we wouldn’t be so quick to string up politicians for having sex or doing drugs. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone and all that.
At best this is an abstract philosophical concept, one better left to bar stool poets and homemade rock albums. I can’t say for sure, but I think The Marches may have heard this call. Their new album 4 a.m. Is The New Midnight wraps the slippery underbelly of humanity in a warm embrace. The lyrics are hidden by an intentionally Beck-esque veil of nonsense, but the theme is unmistakable: decent people sometimes like to do dirty things.
This is an electro-indie soul nugget made for creatures of the night. The band swings back and forth from classical syncopation to Motown soul braced with lusty synthesizers. The lyric sheets are rife with unspoken sexual desires and odes to celebrity crack habits. It’s kind of like The Marches are singing to you about something you won’t even admit to yourself.
Remember though, this is a new era, one in which hope and honesty are supposed to have the upper hand. Well ok. Since we’re being honest, I’ll admit it. This album is weird and perverted in places, and that’s what I like about it. Barack Obama to all, and to all a good night.
The other day I gave my brother a band-aid for a cut on his hand. Actually, I should say Band-Aid, with a capital “B” and a capital “A” because it was a name brand bandage. Not only was it an actual Band-Aid, but it was one of the fancy ones. They’re called “tough strips” and they stay stuck to your body until you peel them off with a putty knife. It doesn’t matter if you’re sweating, showering, or taking a long walk though a hurricane. These things do not come off.
At the end of the day as we we’re driving home, my brother was astonished to find that his Band-Aid was still firmly attached to his hand. I conjectured that bandages were one of the things that you just can’t buy generic. You’ve got to buy Band-Aids if you want them to stay on long enough for the wound they are covering to heal. This quickly got us listing other things that a smart shopper shouldn’t skimp on when trying to decide whether or not to purchase a name brand item. Not the most stimulating conversation, I know, but a fun game to play when you’re driving across the Bay Bridge and there’s nothing good on the radio.
Here’s our list: Band-Aids, packing tape, soda, home electronics, plastic wrap, ballpoint pens, candy, toothpaste, and bongos.
This has quickly developed into a fun activity that can be used to kill time waiting in airports or turned into a drinking game when beer pong gets old. Basically you just make a list that has one broadly defined, yet very specific rule. For example, things that are better in large groups: games of capture the flag, birthday parties, sex, line dancing, drum circles, the wave, opposition to oppressive government forces, and afro-funk infused retro soul rock bands.
New York’s The Phenomenal Handclap Band has clearly played this game before. For their latest string of shows, they have assembled no less than 24 band members to grace the stage, including Morgan Phalen of Diamond Nights, Quinn Luke (aka Bing Ji Ling), plus members of Antibalas and the Dap Kings. There are also two guys credited as “medicine man” and “witch doctor.” The end result is a sound that is equal parts Fela Kuti, Rare Earth, and Polyphonic Spree.
There aren’t too many other groups out there with this particular sound. In fact, I can’t really think of any, but if you can then go ahead and make a list.
Modern technology has had some strange second-hand effects on society. One could certainly argue that ATMs, automated gas pumps, online shopping, and cable television have made our lives better. If nothing else, these modern conveniences have allowed us to be more efficient with our errands and optimize our leisure time. But what appear to be improvements in the living standards among those of us in the industrialized first world have actually come with some unintended consequences.
I’m thinking specifically of the value of human interaction. Back in the proverbial old days, communities were built upon the exchange of goods and services - and the face time that came with them. Even in large cities, the average person in an average day would have to speak with a gas station attendant, a waiter, a librarian, a milkman, or a neighbor. People knew one another, if not by name than at least by sight.
A sense of recognition is an essential component of the human psyche. In fact, one could argue this is why famous people like movie stars and pop singers are deified in our country; because they are the most recognizable humans of all. For us non-celebrities, a series of daily interactions with our fellow man satisfies this same need, albeit on a much smaller scale. Knowing that other people know you and know of your place in the world validates your existence in some profound, yet intangible way. When you die, these will be the people that carry on your memory - and everyone wants to be remembered.
The thing is, modern technology has removed many, if not all, of these interactions from our lives. We pump our own gas simply by sliding a card into a machine. We get our money from a slot in the wall. We drive to work alone in our cars, stopping on the way home at the drive-thru to order food from a talking box. If we’re lucky enough to have a family, it is very likely that we will find them at home plugged into their own entertainment devices - iPods, computers, TVs, video games - with communication limited to a few words and some fleeting eye contact.
Taking a bleak view of the future, it’s possible to envision this country populated by lonely, disenfranchised individuals. Sleep walking through life, we would essentially be alone together. With this absent sense of community or recognition would inevitably come a decreased sense of accountability. This, in turn, would lead people to withdraw from human interaction and curl up inside their own minds - minds that have been pickled by television, first person shooter games, and internet pornography. The nightly news already features enough psycho killers and deranged perverts to tell us that the human mind is too volatile to be left to alone with these influences. Nothing good can come of it.
Instead, you should use technology for the good of humanity. The internet allows you access to places and people you might never have otherwise seen or met. You can share recipes with a stranger in Minnesota. You can send pictures of your cat to an old lady in North Dakota. You can watch videos of snow falling on New York City. You can even use your computer to check out the music scene in Bellingham, WA.
Let’s say you opt for this last one. A basic internet search will probably turn up a few big names like Death Cab for Cutie and the Posies. Of course, faithful readers of this blog (hi dad!) will know that we’re not interested in big names. Those people already get plenty of recognition. Instead, we try to dig a little deeper and, as a result, we often strike music gold.
Citizens of the world, please meet The Love Lights. These crazy kids have taken shimmering 1960s soul music and given it the indie rock treatment. You can still hear the treble-heavy Memphis rhythm guitar and thankfully there is also a horn section. But underneath it all is a band from the Pacific Northwest that has clearly spent some time in a musty basement, writing lyrics and listening to Pixies records.
So there, we’ve gone ahead and shared the love. But don’t keep it to yourself. Step out on your front porch, maybe introduce yourself to your neighbor or somebody passing by. Tell them about this cool band from Washington you just read about on the internet. It might just end up making the world a better place.
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