I: “Why have you summoned me my lord?” (Kneeling before the council.)
C: “Iza, you have been a loyal and powerful tool of this council for your entire life. You are revered by all other hunters. We regret that we have to call you to a task unlike any before.”
I: “I seek to serve your wishes.”
C: “Uzume has become nothing more than a rogue in our careful creation of a peaceful, united Otherworld.”
I: “Uzume…” (As she raises her bowed head.)
C: “Uzume has made her decision.” (He stands and slams his sickle with authority.)
I: to herself “Uzume, what have you done?”
I: to the council “What is it you would have me do?”
C: “You are a hunter Izanami. We wish for you to do what you are made to do.”
I: “I understand my lord.” – pauses – “You expect for me to…”
C: “I expect you to respect your revered position. I expect you to complete each task we decide to give you. I expect you to find Uzume and bring her to us. And I expect you to do it quickly. I expect you, as I always have, to do what needs to be done.”
I: “It will be done.”
As she leaves, tears begin streaming down her face.
I: to herself “I do not wish to betray you my dear Uzume, but you have brought this evil to yourself.”
As she exits the great hall she puts her back to the wall and strains.
“ It is true that I love you Uzume, but I love the Otherworld and its purity with all of my soul. I will do what needs to be done.”
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Monday, February 9, 2009
Thoughts on the ride home.
The beauty of Christianity comes in its base acknowledgment of the presence of good and evil on this planet. More subjective faith systems fail to accept the existence of a binary moral code. In this simple tenet lies the subtle truth: a faith system and worldview based on the existence and marginalization of evil can account for and explain why bad things happen to good people. In this acceptance of evil lies an understanding that evil exists outside of good and in the absence of good. God is good, and evil is bad. They are not of the same cloth. Fairness, or our conception of what should be fair, is then nothing more than a creation of our minds to account for the discrepancy in our humanity. If evil happens equally to all, good or bad or otherwise, then surely there must be vengeance...surely there must be justice. Eternally, there will be. Of that we are all familiar. But, here on earth, an even greater truth emerges. In a world without fairness, there are no victims. In a world with no victims, there is only personal responsibility and choice. In a world of choice there is freedom. In a world with that kind of freedom, I wonder why people keep telling me that Christianity just seems so oppressive.
It seems that the more subjective faith systems of Liberalism and the like (and yes, they are indeed faith systems) and its supporters would be hard-pressed to find a more oppressive ideology than their own; a system that is based upon the belief and faith that established, robust, dynamic and fulfilling faith systems like Christianity are to be distrusted because of their connection and attachment to wars, hypocrisy and the like. All the while, they fail to acknowledge that the disapproval and distrust of established faith systems is a belief system in and of itself. If we seek to know truth for ourselves, and in our arrogance think that only we can understand the mysteries of reality, then the denial of all those who claim to have found truth before us...is a denial of their own validity. So, the very things that Christianity is blasted for: oppression, close-mindedness, denial of other salient ideas, logical analysis etc. are ironically all present in the faith system of denial. To espouse a belief that all beliefs are wrong is just logically ridiculous and intellectually boring.
So stop asking me why I don't care about fairness. Stop asking me to care about victims. These things are ludicrous within the context of my worldview...and I enjoy being responsible with my intellect.
It seems that the more subjective faith systems of Liberalism and the like (and yes, they are indeed faith systems) and its supporters would be hard-pressed to find a more oppressive ideology than their own; a system that is based upon the belief and faith that established, robust, dynamic and fulfilling faith systems like Christianity are to be distrusted because of their connection and attachment to wars, hypocrisy and the like. All the while, they fail to acknowledge that the disapproval and distrust of established faith systems is a belief system in and of itself. If we seek to know truth for ourselves, and in our arrogance think that only we can understand the mysteries of reality, then the denial of all those who claim to have found truth before us...is a denial of their own validity. So, the very things that Christianity is blasted for: oppression, close-mindedness, denial of other salient ideas, logical analysis etc. are ironically all present in the faith system of denial. To espouse a belief that all beliefs are wrong is just logically ridiculous and intellectually boring.
So stop asking me why I don't care about fairness. Stop asking me to care about victims. These things are ludicrous within the context of my worldview...and I enjoy being responsible with my intellect.
Monday, February 2, 2009
A Jazz Segment
Their reflective distance dulls the shrieks and squeals of mothers and children. The men talk in muted voices about the day’s events.
“The cotton certainly is yielding high returns this year.”
“Yes, it is quite profitable. These niggers sure make it easier on all of us.”
The conversing ceases when two men begin to ascend the staircase. The faces in the crowd are focused intensely on the first man who is being led by a second man in uniform. The first man wears white cotton long underwear that has been cut in the front and back. The bloodstains are dried and crusted. His bottoms are torn completely at the groin and his penis slips in and out as he ascends each step. Some recent wound has left fresh blood dripping from the head of his penis. His movements are soft and slow.
Physically, he is strong and his toned muscles show through the rags that now drape over his torso. His chocolate skin is covered in sweat and glistens in the afternoon sun. The hair on his head has been recently shaved ruthlessly with a razorblade. Pieces of scalp dangle from his skull. The peaceful crowd is silent.
The man has been accused of senselessly raping a young white woman. She has recently become pregnant and says that it was the young, chocolate-skinned slave that had raped her and made her with child. Her face is shrouded in black. The material disguises her tears of sorrow, love and regret. The man at the top of the staircase told the young woman of his dreams that they would escape together. They would go north and utilize the more understanding laws to begin their family together. She was scared though. Scared of what people would think, scared of never seeing any of her friends or family again.
Her mother was the first to notice. The baggy clothing and overalls were unable to hide the growth any longer. The young white woman made her choice. She did not want to face the shame and scorn of the community.
She told the young man of her decision. She told him to run. She told him that it would not be safe for him. She loved him too much to watch him die. He said he would not go anywhere. He had done nothing wrong. The world would just have to understand or he would have to face the consequences of his love. She pleaded with him. She begged him to go north or west or anywhere. He looked at her, touched her face gently and told her to that the world was not fit for perfect love.
The next day, the white men heard. They ran, with belts and picks and whips. The young man was praying in the slave chapel on the south side of the plantation. The men broke into the church, turned over the pews, grabbed the young man and began beating him. The men’s shadows fell onto the crudely sculpted Christ figure at the front of the church. There, on the church floor, the young man was stripped naked, beaten with hoes and picks. He was whipped. His flesh was torn from his bones. The young man’s brave mother and his brother later cleaned the blood and decaying flesh; he cursed the name of every white man he had ever known as he scrubbed the blood-soaked wooden floors. The white men took pliers and held the man's penis tightly as they branded it with a cattle iron. His screams could barely be heard over the cries of the white men. The wailing, defeated animal and the shouts of victory sounded like the end of a foxhunt. The rich men took the young brown man to the horse’s stable and rubbed animal excrement into his cuts and his genital wounds. They filled his mouth with pig filth. One white man shoved the feces of a goat into the man’s eyes. All the while, the young man screamed and pleaded that the young girl was in love with him, that he had not done as they were saying he did. This only made the men’s eyes more intense, focused and determined to make the lying, disgusting animal pay the price. They told him he would be an example.
As the man in uniform slides the rope around the young man’s tight, muscular neck, his eyes rise to meet the crowd for the first time. Immediately, he sees his lover, his child’s mother, and focuses all that is left in his brain, all that he can bring up from his soul, into his stare. She bursts into tears, and covers her face with her laced gloves. Her mother puts her arm around the young woman, and tells her not to shed tears over this animal. Her mother says that he was only worth what her father had paid for him, and not to worry. The young girl begins sobbing uncontrollably.
The young girl looks up from her hands and moves out of her mother’s warm embrace. She stares into the man, and he stares back into her. His eyes are full of tears, and as he blinks, two tears roll down each side of his face. The pain of the beating, and the branding, and the shaving, and the whipping are all met with intense pride and courage. This brave, beautiful, brown man is now crying tears of joy. He sees the beauty of his unborn child reflected in the flawless, fair skin of his lover.
As he notices her skin, and the soft reflection from the afternoon sun, her face changes. She has a look of determination. She looks purposeful. Her mouth begins to open. In an instant the young man realizes what she is about to do.
He envisions the crowd erupting. He can see them carrying her to the front and leading her up the stairs. He can see another rope. He can imagine his lover, and his unborn child hanging next to his limp body.
As the words accelerate from her mind, through her tongue and onto her lips, the young man with the glistening chocolate skin turns his head to the man with his hand on the lever and screams like fire,
“I’ll rape a hundred more if you don’t get on with it!”
The young woman’s thoughts stopped at her lips at the instant the lever was pulled, the gate dropped and the young man fell through the hole. Her words turned to silence. In that moment, the sound of bone sliding on bone could be heard as the man’s neck popped twice. His body popped back up once and then swayed slowly back and forth. He was completely limp. The young woman fell onto the muddy ground below. On her knees, she placed her hands together and began to pray. At the very same moment, her child moved inside of her.
“The cotton certainly is yielding high returns this year.”
“Yes, it is quite profitable. These niggers sure make it easier on all of us.”
The conversing ceases when two men begin to ascend the staircase. The faces in the crowd are focused intensely on the first man who is being led by a second man in uniform. The first man wears white cotton long underwear that has been cut in the front and back. The bloodstains are dried and crusted. His bottoms are torn completely at the groin and his penis slips in and out as he ascends each step. Some recent wound has left fresh blood dripping from the head of his penis. His movements are soft and slow.
Physically, he is strong and his toned muscles show through the rags that now drape over his torso. His chocolate skin is covered in sweat and glistens in the afternoon sun. The hair on his head has been recently shaved ruthlessly with a razorblade. Pieces of scalp dangle from his skull. The peaceful crowd is silent.
The man has been accused of senselessly raping a young white woman. She has recently become pregnant and says that it was the young, chocolate-skinned slave that had raped her and made her with child. Her face is shrouded in black. The material disguises her tears of sorrow, love and regret. The man at the top of the staircase told the young woman of his dreams that they would escape together. They would go north and utilize the more understanding laws to begin their family together. She was scared though. Scared of what people would think, scared of never seeing any of her friends or family again.
Her mother was the first to notice. The baggy clothing and overalls were unable to hide the growth any longer. The young white woman made her choice. She did not want to face the shame and scorn of the community.
She told the young man of her decision. She told him to run. She told him that it would not be safe for him. She loved him too much to watch him die. He said he would not go anywhere. He had done nothing wrong. The world would just have to understand or he would have to face the consequences of his love. She pleaded with him. She begged him to go north or west or anywhere. He looked at her, touched her face gently and told her to that the world was not fit for perfect love.
The next day, the white men heard. They ran, with belts and picks and whips. The young man was praying in the slave chapel on the south side of the plantation. The men broke into the church, turned over the pews, grabbed the young man and began beating him. The men’s shadows fell onto the crudely sculpted Christ figure at the front of the church. There, on the church floor, the young man was stripped naked, beaten with hoes and picks. He was whipped. His flesh was torn from his bones. The young man’s brave mother and his brother later cleaned the blood and decaying flesh; he cursed the name of every white man he had ever known as he scrubbed the blood-soaked wooden floors. The white men took pliers and held the man's penis tightly as they branded it with a cattle iron. His screams could barely be heard over the cries of the white men. The wailing, defeated animal and the shouts of victory sounded like the end of a foxhunt. The rich men took the young brown man to the horse’s stable and rubbed animal excrement into his cuts and his genital wounds. They filled his mouth with pig filth. One white man shoved the feces of a goat into the man’s eyes. All the while, the young man screamed and pleaded that the young girl was in love with him, that he had not done as they were saying he did. This only made the men’s eyes more intense, focused and determined to make the lying, disgusting animal pay the price. They told him he would be an example.
As the man in uniform slides the rope around the young man’s tight, muscular neck, his eyes rise to meet the crowd for the first time. Immediately, he sees his lover, his child’s mother, and focuses all that is left in his brain, all that he can bring up from his soul, into his stare. She bursts into tears, and covers her face with her laced gloves. Her mother puts her arm around the young woman, and tells her not to shed tears over this animal. Her mother says that he was only worth what her father had paid for him, and not to worry. The young girl begins sobbing uncontrollably.
The young girl looks up from her hands and moves out of her mother’s warm embrace. She stares into the man, and he stares back into her. His eyes are full of tears, and as he blinks, two tears roll down each side of his face. The pain of the beating, and the branding, and the shaving, and the whipping are all met with intense pride and courage. This brave, beautiful, brown man is now crying tears of joy. He sees the beauty of his unborn child reflected in the flawless, fair skin of his lover.
As he notices her skin, and the soft reflection from the afternoon sun, her face changes. She has a look of determination. She looks purposeful. Her mouth begins to open. In an instant the young man realizes what she is about to do.
He envisions the crowd erupting. He can see them carrying her to the front and leading her up the stairs. He can see another rope. He can imagine his lover, and his unborn child hanging next to his limp body.
As the words accelerate from her mind, through her tongue and onto her lips, the young man with the glistening chocolate skin turns his head to the man with his hand on the lever and screams like fire,
“I’ll rape a hundred more if you don’t get on with it!”
The young woman’s thoughts stopped at her lips at the instant the lever was pulled, the gate dropped and the young man fell through the hole. Her words turned to silence. In that moment, the sound of bone sliding on bone could be heard as the man’s neck popped twice. His body popped back up once and then swayed slowly back and forth. He was completely limp. The young woman fell onto the muddy ground below. On her knees, she placed her hands together and began to pray. At the very same moment, her child moved inside of her.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Classic: one of my favorite words
There is a clipper ship in the harbor.
Alone, not seaworthy.
Moss and calcium infect and warp the deck.
Sunny day. No fog.
The ship knows why it was made
and now it cannot love the sea.
The sea is no longer infinite;
The wax and wane of the tide
make a heartless joke
as the shore ropes creak and laugh.
No captain to shout orders,
no crew to follow them.
The gulls have made nests
and now command with their squeals
the poor old clipper.
Wood fills with water,
swells; stretches.
The falling sun and rising winds
bring in the other ships from fishing trips.
Tidal tricks make the solitary ship
bow and yearn
for freedom and adventure.
To the other ships
the lonely clipper is
nothing more than a reminder of their own future;
bored,
ruined,
and hopeless.
Our lonely ship exists now
in memories
of crashing waves, the shouts of men,
salvation from the storm.
Covered in filth without the faintest remnant
of the rapid rowers
that once found solace in
the hollow belly.
We do not beat on,
boats against the currents.
We fall asleep one day in a dirty harbor
tied to the dock with tight ropes
never to wake up again.
Alone, not seaworthy.
Moss and calcium infect and warp the deck.
Sunny day. No fog.
The ship knows why it was made
and now it cannot love the sea.
The sea is no longer infinite;
The wax and wane of the tide
make a heartless joke
as the shore ropes creak and laugh.
No captain to shout orders,
no crew to follow them.
The gulls have made nests
and now command with their squeals
the poor old clipper.
Wood fills with water,
swells; stretches.
The falling sun and rising winds
bring in the other ships from fishing trips.
Tidal tricks make the solitary ship
bow and yearn
for freedom and adventure.
To the other ships
the lonely clipper is
nothing more than a reminder of their own future;
bored,
ruined,
and hopeless.
Our lonely ship exists now
in memories
of crashing waves, the shouts of men,
salvation from the storm.
Covered in filth without the faintest remnant
of the rapid rowers
that once found solace in
the hollow belly.
We do not beat on,
boats against the currents.
We fall asleep one day in a dirty harbor
tied to the dock with tight ropes
never to wake up again.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Worldview: an overview
I only write poems about things that matter once in a blue moon. My poems are usually about a feeling or an image in my head. But sometimes, I get so overwhelmed with my own thoughts and I have to write them down. I do it honestly. If I am angry, I will write angry. If I am resolute...etc. There is probably too much here, and its all packed in tight. So, read slowly, and maybe you will stay with me.
This Room Was Once So Still
Before, when mothers held the children softly,
we were never scared.
The house’s gentle noises let us know it was all settling down.
Fires crackled calm reminders of our safety and comfort.
We were going to be okay.
Then, not to be denied by our created consolation,
it crept in quietly.
The knowledge drifted over us like cigarette smoke.
We breathed the in the creeping mist.
It was inescapable.
Our hopes were so simple. New bikes for Christmas, family tree reports, and chalk to make foursquare courts. We chased the blonde girls in class and stood atop jungle gyms as kings. It was all so far ahead of us.
Now we test genitals for diseases
telling each other we will never love enough to make forever last for ever.
Our parents showed us just how important promises really are.
An entire generation of genius wasted on friend requests and about me’s.
Japanese bukkake and German women shitting in each other’s mouths…government secrets and conspiracy films…abortions and hangings…celebrity nose jobs and blow jobs
by clicking and pressing enter.
We know too much
and our lives are too long;
the apathy of post-modern philosophy is purely a reaction:
“We can become our dreams, but maybe dreams are lies to help us fall asleep. We can love, but maybe love is nothing like we were taught. We can elect change, but maybe change is nothing like we thought.”
It is counter-intuitive to have faith in things we cannot see.
It takes courage to be sure of what we hope for.
The greatest romance we have in this world of knowledge is belief in something greater than just what we know, faith that the knowledge is far more pure than the knowing.
What is true must be true because it was created to be true.
But, this world is not so still.
This Room Was Once So Still
Before, when mothers held the children softly,
we were never scared.
The house’s gentle noises let us know it was all settling down.
Fires crackled calm reminders of our safety and comfort.
We were going to be okay.
Then, not to be denied by our created consolation,
it crept in quietly.
The knowledge drifted over us like cigarette smoke.
We breathed the in the creeping mist.
It was inescapable.
Our hopes were so simple. New bikes for Christmas, family tree reports, and chalk to make foursquare courts. We chased the blonde girls in class and stood atop jungle gyms as kings. It was all so far ahead of us.
Now we test genitals for diseases
telling each other we will never love enough to make forever last for ever.
Our parents showed us just how important promises really are.
An entire generation of genius wasted on friend requests and about me’s.
Japanese bukkake and German women shitting in each other’s mouths…government secrets and conspiracy films…abortions and hangings…celebrity nose jobs and blow jobs
by clicking and pressing enter.
We know too much
and our lives are too long;
the apathy of post-modern philosophy is purely a reaction:
“We can become our dreams, but maybe dreams are lies to help us fall asleep. We can love, but maybe love is nothing like we were taught. We can elect change, but maybe change is nothing like we thought.”
It is counter-intuitive to have faith in things we cannot see.
It takes courage to be sure of what we hope for.
The greatest romance we have in this world of knowledge is belief in something greater than just what we know, faith that the knowledge is far more pure than the knowing.
What is true must be true because it was created to be true.
But, this world is not so still.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
not like curt's blog
why does this happen to people?
http://www.wwtdd.com/photo.phtml?post_key=17081&photo_key=59291
also youtube bai ling sometime. that bitch is dumb.
http://www.wwtdd.com/photo.phtml?post_key=17081&photo_key=59291
also youtube bai ling sometime. that bitch is dumb.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Best of 2008
An albums of the year list is most usually an inherent exercise in arrogance. This year is a definite derailment from such nonsense. I truly have gotten to the point where music is only important to me because it is. Critics be damned, I love what I love and my list is a true representation of that.
I am not cool.
Do not copy this list down and then buy the albums. Some of them are boring to you. Some of them are stupid to you. I am a professional appreciator of art…and I am in the process of learning how to appreciate anything that is an organic part of the human condition; that is to say I wish to understand why other people love what I do not. During this process, my natural inclination toward the music I love has grown exponentially.
Herein lies the list of albums that I heard that I loved the most in 2008. About 7500 albums were released. I probably heard 300. This means I probably missed a lot. Please let me know if you think that I did. As per Curt’s editing comments last year, I have kept the list to 25.
25. Soundtrack: Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist
Various Artists
While I have never included a Soundtrack in the list before, this set of songs truly hit me in a strong way. I know I am not 17 and I probably shouldn’t be that into movies and music like this…but I just don’t care. The soundtrack escalates in the right places, takes it down a notch…it plays like a mixtape made for lovers.
24. Coco
Colbie Caillat
This album is the female version of a Jack Johnson album. It sounds like everyone who was involved in making the album was sitting on knitted couches smoking weed and smiling a lot while the recording was taking place. This makes for a pleasantly true sound. Caillat has an angelic coo that makes my bones chill. I love this hippie shit.
23. Weezer (The Red Album)
Weezer
I’m not sure how Weezer can justify releasing this with the track listing they did. It hurt my feelings. Now, obviously not so much that I left this album off the list. All the Rivers songs deliver, as always, with punch, promise or purpose. The tracks recorded by each of the other members of the band are silly and boring in comparison to the truly creative Cuomo sound.
22. Fear Before
Fear Before
What? Maybe the boys from Fear Before the March of Flames got as lazy as their fans and were tired of typing out all the words. I am tired of it, and I only had to do it once. I guess a thank you is appropriate. Oh, and I liked the record a lot…because I just did.
21. David Archuleta
David Archuleta
It sounds good in my ears.
20. If Life Gives You Lemons, Paint That Shit Gold
Atmosphere
Worst. Record. Title. Ever. Producer Ant went to a different place with this record. Live drums, guitars and pianos combine with 808 sounds and eerie horror synths to create a truly diverse record. Slug delivers on point lyrics as always. The record did not rank higher on my list simply because I am tired of Atmosphere. Saturation of the market takes hold.
19. Vampire Weekend
Vampire Weekend
This is that cool record that Jesse would have told me I should like and I would have told him no fucking way and then listened to it three years later and totally loved. (This happened with Band of Horses) Now Jesse lives in Seattle and I can like scenester music without feeling like I need to buy tighter jeans and scoff a whole lot more.
18. Bring Me Your Love
City and Colour
I think this record would make the top 25 list of an autistic Asian child. It’s just loveable. Thanks Curt.
17. Remixes
Headlights
I’m not sure how this record was conceived. It’s great. It’s a whole lot of fun to listen to. It’s songs I’ve heard and loved totally redone by new artists. A weird idea that probably wouldn’t work with a lot of other bands. It works here.
16. A History of Violence
Jedi Mind Tricks
This is the most consistently fantastic hip hop group in music today. Violent, over the top, crazily exaggerated…but terrific.
15. Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings
Counting Crows
Justin said it a long time ago…double albums and concept albums can have the ability to start the downfall of a band. This record is inconsistent and strange. The concept doesn’t work well. However, when it hits, it hits hard. The songwriting is so strong on the majority of the album that it makes up for the misses at the beginning of the record.
14. Selective Wreckage
Crime in Stereo
This is a B sides record. It’s number 14 on the top albums of the year. That’s how good this band is.
13. Red Star E.P.
Third Eye Blind
This is a three song E.P. I have waited six years for a single note from this band. The sheer anticipation is enough to project it into the top 25. Curt will hate it.
12. Lost in the Sound of Separation
Underoath
I just don’t get tired of Underoath. I know that I am in the minority. This is loud, driving, screaming, relentless music. Not for Justin.
11. Some Racing, Some Stopping
Headlights
If they keep releasing music this great, their next release is likely to come close to number one. Just get it.
10. Narrow Stairs
Death Cab for Cutie
One of my favorite bands released a slightly disappointing record. Some songs thrill, others sound like boring representations of what Death Cab might sound like in space. It’s so great at points that I had to put it in the top 10. But not good enough that it needed to go single digits.
9. Agony and Irony
Alkaline Trio
Alkaline will be making great music when they are taking pills to make their limp penises wake up and they are playing the drums with a cane. I just cant believe that they have never totally ruined everything with a shitty album. Every song, every time…almost good enough to get a tattoo of a heart with a skull in it…almost.
8. Can’t Love, Can’t Hurt
Augustana
I enjoyed this record all year. It was my record to the summer and I totally did not see it coming. I remember listening to Augustana while we made French toast for our friends at the 105. That record has nothing on this new sound. It’s produced perfectly. It’s safe music…but it’s done exceptionally well.
7. 808s and Heartbreak
Kanye West
You probably won’t see this on too many best of lists this year. But that’s ok with me. I’m used to liking stuff that people hate. It makes me feel all lame inside.
6. The Glass Passenger
Jack’s Mannequin
Never in a million years did I think that anything having to do with Something Corporate would be involved in my top 10 anything. But, hey, I love when music surprises me. I just love this sound.
5. Feed the Animals
Girl Talk
Let’s try it. Let’s make music that a lot of people can love. Let’s call it something cool. Let’s hope for the best…and then let’s make everyone’s top albums list everywhere. A perfect record for the people who sell records and buy records and listen to records.
4. The ’59 Sound
The Gaslight Anthem
Perfect for anyone who loves men talking about man stuff and being real sensitive about it in a tough voice. If Bruce Springsteen sang a little off key and Lucero had sex with Benton Falls while the Gin Blossoms watched from the corner…this c.d. would be the baby.
3. Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust
Sigur Ros
The best of Sigur Ros is edited down into pop songs with shortened whining and cooing sessions. I can actually listen to this record and love my life instantly.
2.Tha Carter III
Lil Wayne
From Rolling Stone:
OK, it's true: he really is the best rapper alive. Lil Wayne made that claim on his last official CD, in 2005, and since then, he's unleashed an astonishing torrent of mixtapes, leaks and guest appearances to back up the boast. So his long-anticipated "legit" album follow-up feels a bit gratuitous. Still, Tha Carter III is useful as an exclamation point. It establishes beyond a doubt that the zeitgeist in 2008 belongs to one artist: a dreadlocked dadaist poet from New Orleans with a bad weed habit and a voice like a bullfrog. As Wayne croaks in the woozy "3Peat," "Get on my level/You can't get on my level/You will need a space shuttle/Or a ladder that's forever."
Wayne has taken the task of album-making seriously: This isn't a mixtape, it's a suite of songs, paced and sequenced for maxaqimum impact. He's collected sleek, powerful beats from top producers (Kanye West, Swizz Beatz), enlisted A-list guest stars (Jay-Z, T-Pain) and served up a range of textures and moods, from the elegiac Hurricane Katrina protest "Tie My Hands" to the bubblegum bumper "Lollipop," in which Weezy has a laugh at selling out by creating the most outrageously pumped-up sellout single in history. Thematically, Carter III is a victory lap. In the hilarious "Dr Carter," he boasts about resuscitating hip-hop: "As I put the light down his throat/I can only see flow/His blood's starting to flow/His lungs starting to grow."
As usual, Wayne's tumbling freestyle rhymes are full of imagination and surprise, but his voice itself is half the fun. He shouts, gasps, tries a Caribbean patois, sings snatches of "Umbrella" and "Irreplaceable," and impersonates E.T. He loves that brother-from-another-planet stuff —"I am a Martian," he raps —but it's clear he's also thinking about his worldly legacy. The album cover links Carter III to Biggie's Ready to Die and Nas' Illmatic, and he makes no bones about coveting a spot in hip-hop's pantheon. "Next time you mention Pac, Biggie or Jay-Z/Don't forget Weezy Baby," he advises on "Mr Carter." It's sound advice.
1.Only by the Night
Kings of Leon
Believe me, I’m as confused as you are. How this band has become one of my favorites is part of Jesse’s little maniacal plan to make me love him. Christian Hoard writes, “But when the Kings find a gussied-up groove with teeth — like the effects-laden Zeppelin stomp of "Crawl" or the pulsating, New Wave "Sex on Fire" — they sound like rock heroes experiencing the joy of well-manicured sound.”
Duh I like this. That sounds like my explanation of why I like stuff.
But like I said…I’m probably mostly wrong.
I am not cool.
Do not copy this list down and then buy the albums. Some of them are boring to you. Some of them are stupid to you. I am a professional appreciator of art…and I am in the process of learning how to appreciate anything that is an organic part of the human condition; that is to say I wish to understand why other people love what I do not. During this process, my natural inclination toward the music I love has grown exponentially.
Herein lies the list of albums that I heard that I loved the most in 2008. About 7500 albums were released. I probably heard 300. This means I probably missed a lot. Please let me know if you think that I did. As per Curt’s editing comments last year, I have kept the list to 25.
25. Soundtrack: Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist
Various Artists
While I have never included a Soundtrack in the list before, this set of songs truly hit me in a strong way. I know I am not 17 and I probably shouldn’t be that into movies and music like this…but I just don’t care. The soundtrack escalates in the right places, takes it down a notch…it plays like a mixtape made for lovers.
24. Coco
Colbie Caillat
This album is the female version of a Jack Johnson album. It sounds like everyone who was involved in making the album was sitting on knitted couches smoking weed and smiling a lot while the recording was taking place. This makes for a pleasantly true sound. Caillat has an angelic coo that makes my bones chill. I love this hippie shit.
23. Weezer (The Red Album)
Weezer
I’m not sure how Weezer can justify releasing this with the track listing they did. It hurt my feelings. Now, obviously not so much that I left this album off the list. All the Rivers songs deliver, as always, with punch, promise or purpose. The tracks recorded by each of the other members of the band are silly and boring in comparison to the truly creative Cuomo sound.
22. Fear Before
Fear Before
What? Maybe the boys from Fear Before the March of Flames got as lazy as their fans and were tired of typing out all the words. I am tired of it, and I only had to do it once. I guess a thank you is appropriate. Oh, and I liked the record a lot…because I just did.
21. David Archuleta
David Archuleta
It sounds good in my ears.
20. If Life Gives You Lemons, Paint That Shit Gold
Atmosphere
Worst. Record. Title. Ever. Producer Ant went to a different place with this record. Live drums, guitars and pianos combine with 808 sounds and eerie horror synths to create a truly diverse record. Slug delivers on point lyrics as always. The record did not rank higher on my list simply because I am tired of Atmosphere. Saturation of the market takes hold.
19. Vampire Weekend
Vampire Weekend
This is that cool record that Jesse would have told me I should like and I would have told him no fucking way and then listened to it three years later and totally loved. (This happened with Band of Horses) Now Jesse lives in Seattle and I can like scenester music without feeling like I need to buy tighter jeans and scoff a whole lot more.
18. Bring Me Your Love
City and Colour
I think this record would make the top 25 list of an autistic Asian child. It’s just loveable. Thanks Curt.
17. Remixes
Headlights
I’m not sure how this record was conceived. It’s great. It’s a whole lot of fun to listen to. It’s songs I’ve heard and loved totally redone by new artists. A weird idea that probably wouldn’t work with a lot of other bands. It works here.
16. A History of Violence
Jedi Mind Tricks
This is the most consistently fantastic hip hop group in music today. Violent, over the top, crazily exaggerated…but terrific.
15. Saturday Nights and Sunday Mornings
Counting Crows
Justin said it a long time ago…double albums and concept albums can have the ability to start the downfall of a band. This record is inconsistent and strange. The concept doesn’t work well. However, when it hits, it hits hard. The songwriting is so strong on the majority of the album that it makes up for the misses at the beginning of the record.
14. Selective Wreckage
Crime in Stereo
This is a B sides record. It’s number 14 on the top albums of the year. That’s how good this band is.
13. Red Star E.P.
Third Eye Blind
This is a three song E.P. I have waited six years for a single note from this band. The sheer anticipation is enough to project it into the top 25. Curt will hate it.
12. Lost in the Sound of Separation
Underoath
I just don’t get tired of Underoath. I know that I am in the minority. This is loud, driving, screaming, relentless music. Not for Justin.
11. Some Racing, Some Stopping
Headlights
If they keep releasing music this great, their next release is likely to come close to number one. Just get it.
10. Narrow Stairs
Death Cab for Cutie
One of my favorite bands released a slightly disappointing record. Some songs thrill, others sound like boring representations of what Death Cab might sound like in space. It’s so great at points that I had to put it in the top 10. But not good enough that it needed to go single digits.
9. Agony and Irony
Alkaline Trio
Alkaline will be making great music when they are taking pills to make their limp penises wake up and they are playing the drums with a cane. I just cant believe that they have never totally ruined everything with a shitty album. Every song, every time…almost good enough to get a tattoo of a heart with a skull in it…almost.
8. Can’t Love, Can’t Hurt
Augustana
I enjoyed this record all year. It was my record to the summer and I totally did not see it coming. I remember listening to Augustana while we made French toast for our friends at the 105. That record has nothing on this new sound. It’s produced perfectly. It’s safe music…but it’s done exceptionally well.
7. 808s and Heartbreak
Kanye West
You probably won’t see this on too many best of lists this year. But that’s ok with me. I’m used to liking stuff that people hate. It makes me feel all lame inside.
6. The Glass Passenger
Jack’s Mannequin
Never in a million years did I think that anything having to do with Something Corporate would be involved in my top 10 anything. But, hey, I love when music surprises me. I just love this sound.
5. Feed the Animals
Girl Talk
Let’s try it. Let’s make music that a lot of people can love. Let’s call it something cool. Let’s hope for the best…and then let’s make everyone’s top albums list everywhere. A perfect record for the people who sell records and buy records and listen to records.
4. The ’59 Sound
The Gaslight Anthem
Perfect for anyone who loves men talking about man stuff and being real sensitive about it in a tough voice. If Bruce Springsteen sang a little off key and Lucero had sex with Benton Falls while the Gin Blossoms watched from the corner…this c.d. would be the baby.
3. Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust
Sigur Ros
The best of Sigur Ros is edited down into pop songs with shortened whining and cooing sessions. I can actually listen to this record and love my life instantly.
2.Tha Carter III
Lil Wayne
From Rolling Stone:
OK, it's true: he really is the best rapper alive. Lil Wayne made that claim on his last official CD, in 2005, and since then, he's unleashed an astonishing torrent of mixtapes, leaks and guest appearances to back up the boast. So his long-anticipated "legit" album follow-up feels a bit gratuitous. Still, Tha Carter III is useful as an exclamation point. It establishes beyond a doubt that the zeitgeist in 2008 belongs to one artist: a dreadlocked dadaist poet from New Orleans with a bad weed habit and a voice like a bullfrog. As Wayne croaks in the woozy "3Peat," "Get on my level/You can't get on my level/You will need a space shuttle/Or a ladder that's forever."
Wayne has taken the task of album-making seriously: This isn't a mixtape, it's a suite of songs, paced and sequenced for maxaqimum impact. He's collected sleek, powerful beats from top producers (Kanye West, Swizz Beatz), enlisted A-list guest stars (Jay-Z, T-Pain) and served up a range of textures and moods, from the elegiac Hurricane Katrina protest "Tie My Hands" to the bubblegum bumper "Lollipop," in which Weezy has a laugh at selling out by creating the most outrageously pumped-up sellout single in history. Thematically, Carter III is a victory lap. In the hilarious "Dr Carter," he boasts about resuscitating hip-hop: "As I put the light down his throat/I can only see flow/His blood's starting to flow/His lungs starting to grow."
As usual, Wayne's tumbling freestyle rhymes are full of imagination and surprise, but his voice itself is half the fun. He shouts, gasps, tries a Caribbean patois, sings snatches of "Umbrella" and "Irreplaceable," and impersonates E.T. He loves that brother-from-another-planet stuff —"I am a Martian," he raps —but it's clear he's also thinking about his worldly legacy. The album cover links Carter III to Biggie's Ready to Die and Nas' Illmatic, and he makes no bones about coveting a spot in hip-hop's pantheon. "Next time you mention Pac, Biggie or Jay-Z/Don't forget Weezy Baby," he advises on "Mr Carter." It's sound advice.
1.Only by the Night
Kings of Leon
Believe me, I’m as confused as you are. How this band has become one of my favorites is part of Jesse’s little maniacal plan to make me love him. Christian Hoard writes, “But when the Kings find a gussied-up groove with teeth — like the effects-laden Zeppelin stomp of "Crawl" or the pulsating, New Wave "Sex on Fire" — they sound like rock heroes experiencing the joy of well-manicured sound.”
Duh I like this. That sounds like my explanation of why I like stuff.
But like I said…I’m probably mostly wrong.
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