Monday, February 24, 2003
Dear Journal,
I have erred. I called Rachel 10 times today, weeping uncontrollably
throughout each repeated dialing. I wanted to tell her that I was
sorry — that I'm an idiot and I should have never left my good
thing. Through choked-back tears I barely made audible my pain before
hearing each click fall harder than a chopping block axe.
It was the music that did this to me. I was fine in my self-delusion
until Shipping News made me realize that one can never go home again.
The knot in my stomach started within the first few opening chords of
"Sickening Bridge versus Horrible Bed." I have never heard a slide
guitar sound so insincere as when it plays accompaniment to such
lyrics as "Why do you think things will change now that you're free,
you hit the wall, then stop, just for one moment then stop, and now
you can't rely on the sickening bridge you've built." Add to this the
smattering of "Oh"s and other plaintive and guttural sounds, and one
has a recipe for sickness that only comes about with the deepest kind
of regret.
A brief respite from this languid realization was nearly had though,
as "Haunted on Foot" reminded me for a moment of the good old days of
droning chords juxtaposed with suspense-appeasing moments of hellish
noise. Though the latter never came, the former certainly made its
presence felt, as a propulsive rhythm led the way towards a brighter
— and by that I mean musically darker and more interesting
— future.
Alas, the musical future, much like my own, was not to be realized as
imagined. "Paper Lanterns" dashed all hopes of retribution as the
repetitive and boring, albeit heavy, percussive element beat forth a
simple rhythm buried beneath pointless guitar noodling that lasted
well past its welcome. The only salve the song offers is that the
lyrics, offering such irrelevant nuggets of thought as "paper flies
into the air, hard with bitumen and ice, it's no use, it's not there,
so long so undiscovered, somnambulist," are thankfully buried deep
within the mix.
The album is so heavy with its own pretense that even slight returns
to the enjoyable elements of post-rock — a particular guitar
slide reminiscent of Slint or later Mogwai — quickly devolve
into a mere exercise in past glory, like watching an athlete well
past their prime trying to compete with the next generation.
"Haymaker," "Dogs" and "You Can't Hide the Mark Inside" are all
enjoyable songs in their own right, but they do not bring back the
figure of the music from the old days, only causing the memories of
those songs to be tarnished in light of what they would later
"inspire." I wish I could have heeded the same warning that Shipping
News must have heard: to not attempt to turn back the clock, and just
allow oneself to grow older with dignity. Flirting with "new" sounds
such as the electronic fumbling on "We Start to Drift," or the
straight folk of "Variegated," no doubt leaves other listeners
feeling just as empty as that hussy Bunny has left me for three days
now, taking all of my money, and moving in with her ex-boyfriend.
Even relatively good experiments with different sounds — such as
the faster-paced "Wax Museum," with its Latin beat and metallic
clang, and the straightforward rocker "The Architect in Hell" —
sound like too little too late. The fact is that no imitation of
youth is a good as youth itself, and good can only come of reflection
upon and satisfaction with one's current condition. Shipping News
cannot lay claim to their former life, any more than I can return to
my formative years. Hopefully from this album the band will realize
what I had to learn the difficult way, that changing with age is not
a bad thing, but a necessity in order to fully appreciate all that
life has to offer. My consequences are already irreversible, but they
are still an excellent band, capable of appreciably wiser decisions
in the future.
Tuesday, February 18, 2003
Dear Journal,
The divorce was declared final today. Rachel and I are no longer
husband and wife, and I have never felt freer. I feel so good in fact
that I quit my job at the law firm, bought a little red Corvette, and
promptly began dating a girl from the local Hooters named Bunny. The
kids seem to take to her well, James especially because she
apparently dated the young coach of his baseball team a few years
back.
My regimen of sit-ups, running, and lifting weights everyday is
beginning to pay off. Yesterday, I actually fit into my size 32 jeans
that I wore in high school. Bunny was so proud of me. I can
definitely feel my strength returning to me. I feel like I could
scale a mountain, play a professional sport, and run a thousand miles
all in one day.
I felt so good today that I even stopped in the local record store,
so I could get back into the music scene I left behind in the early
1990s for the "boring" life. I asked the clerk about this old band I
used to listen to, and he told me to check out their latest offering
under a different band name with most of the original members. To
this end I picked up Shipping News' latest, Three-Four. I only
found out later that the album is actually a re-release of the band's
long out-of-print series of EPs from late 2001 and early 2002. I
still expect nothing but good things from my second favorite Kentucky
band.
April 1994
RODAN'S RUSTY IS FINALLY HERE!!! No time to discuss, must
listen intently — just suffice it to say that from here on out,
LIFE IS LOOKING UP!!
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