Swashbuckler Blues

I like this song by the Theater Fire.  There's a lyric that goes:

"So it's strange how I am my old man
despite all attempts
to be Errol Flynn"

I've been feeling a strong sensation recently to let go of all the anxiety that goes along with the pressure i put on myself to be famous.  It sounds ridiculous, but I have a complex tendency to want to produce great works of art, maybe a short story or a personal essay or a novel or a screenplay or a song or a film.  I put a lot of pressure on myself to produce such great works of art.  But the reality is I'm not prepared and haven't put in the time.  I play the guitar like a beginner and my songs are more like proto-songs.  I haven't even been playing a lot of guitar recently because I've been focused on my "day-job"and I'm so exhausted with the pressure i put on myself.  I want to let it go.  Like water flowing over my shoulders, there's so much tension in my shoulders, and lately I have felt these moments of release, and I can feel the muscles in my shoulders relax.  I crave this feeling of being relaxed.  And right now I would rather "pursue" this relaxation than try be a creative genius.  That's what I expect of myself.  With some perspective, I realize this is crazy.  With more sanity, I'm working on not working.  I mean I still have a job and I want to do it really well.  But I don't want to carry the anxiety in my shoulders.  I want to let go of that.  I put this pressure on myself to do my job really well, which is at least 8 hours monday through friday, and still have the energy to be a great musician or a great writer.  The last few days I have just wanted to let go of the expectations and the anxiety.

The lyric above captures a lot of this for me.  There are parts of my dad that i really hated as a teenager and young adult.  To accept that, in many respects, I am my father is, well -- I used to think that was the definition of giving up. A lot of self-hate.  I too want to be Errol Flynn, the swashbuckling sword fighter, movie star, handsome hero (the song is actually called Swashbuckler Blues on The Theater Fire's Matter and Light album).  It's ridiculous, but it lives inside me.  And I am glad that the Theater Fire created this song and played this song and sang this song.  In fact, the whole musical arrangement of the song comes across as simple; it just kindof moseys along.  The music reflects the lyrics.  A band member plays the xylophone, a few simple notes repeated that produces a child-like simplicity and naiveté.  One acoustic guitar plays call and response with another acoustic guitar creating a simple melody.  The music and the lyrics, they're about acceptance.  About who we really are.  It's about letting go of the expectations and just allowing yourself to appreciate what you are actually doing.  To accept that you are your father.

I have friends who are truly musically gifted.  I wouldn't shy away from saying they have a kind of genius.  One friend in particular devotes his entire being to music, and the results are wonderful.  I am not him, I'm not George Clooney, I'm not Bob Dylan, and to be honest, this kind of sucks.  But I also  don't want to give up music or writing because at times they bring me joy.  But I want to do them free of the expectations and the ridiculous hope that I will create something genius and become famous or wealthy from it.  That's hard for me.  Acceptance is like the blues, at first.  But I think over time, if you can accept who you are, the fact that you are going to be a lot more like your parents than Errol Flynn, (a whole lot of your father's nature and nurture went into making you; not so much time with or DNA from Errol, unfortunately) I think this kind of acceptance can work to your advantage. You seek out and come to projects where you can pour your soul into them for the right reasons.

Without doubt, this stuff is complicated.  There's so many schools of thought.  For example, there are those that say, "push yourself to be great; rise above the average man."  But I think, for me, that's a bit elitist (I don't claim to be completely free from elitism), and more importantly, right now, that's not where my head is at.  I want to be free from the anxiety of expectations.  I would rather live momentarily in the swashbuckler blues.  Lay down on the floor with my head looking up, breathe, and relax.

Yours, fair reader, filled with love and hope.

Anthony

Top 15 Songs of 2010

1. Stornoway – “ I Saw You Blink” – Beachcomber’s Windowsill
2. Frightened Rabbit – “Swim Until You Can’t See Land” – The Winter of Mixed Drinks
3. Vampire Weekend – “White Sky” – Contra
4. Local Natives – “Who Knows Who Cares” – Gorilla Manor
5. Sonny and the Sunsets – “ The Hypnotist” – The Hypnotist EP
6. Cee Lo – “Fuck You” – The Lady Killer
7. Arcade Fire – “Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains)” – The Suburbs
8. Stornoway – “Zorbing” – Beachcomber’s Windowsill
9. Band of Horses – “Laredo” – Infinite Arms
10. Matu – “L.A. Skies” – facebook.com/matumusic
11. The Black Keys – “She’s Long Gone” – Brothers
12. The Gaslight Anthem – “Queen of Lower Chelsea” – American Slang
13. The Tallest Man on Earth – “King of Spain” – The Wild Hunt
14. The Mantles – “Cascades” – Pink Information EP
15. The Rolling Stones – “Plundered My Soul” – Plundered My Soul Single

the saddest song in the world

I know that it is freezing
But I think we'll have to walk
I keep waving at the taxis
They keep turning their lights off
But Julie knows a party
At some actor's West Side loft
Supplies are endless in the evening
By the morning they'll be gone

When everything is lonely
I can be my own best friend
I get a coffee and the paper
Have my own conversations
With the sidewalk and the pigeons
And my window reflection
The mask I polish in the evening
By the morning looks like shit

And I know you have a heavy heart
I can feel it when we kiss
So many men stronger than me
Have thrown their backs out trying to lift it
But me, I'm not a gamble
You can count on me to split
The love I sell you in the evening
By the morning won't exist

You're looking skinny like a model
With your eyes all painted black
You just keep going to the bathroom
Always say you'll be right back
Well, it takes one to know one, kid
I think you've got it bad
But what's so easy in the evening
By the morning's such a drag

I've got a flask inside my pocket
We can share it on the train
And if you promise to stay conscious
I will try and do the same
Yeah, we might die from medication
But we sure killed all the pain
But what was normal in the evening
By the morning seems insane

And I'm not sure what the trouble was
That started all of this
The reasons all have run away
But the feeling never did
It's not something I would recommend
But it is one way to live
Cause what is simple in the moonlight
By the morning never is

It was so simple in the moonlight
Now it's so complicated
It was so simple in the moonlight
So simple in the moonlight
So simple in the moonlight

"lua"

florence and the modern cathedral of inspiration

florence and the machine have become very popular. their november show at the fox in oakland is already sold out. you've probably heard a song or two of florence's on the radio. so the question is: is florence real. the answer is yes, florence is real. her album 'lungs' makes possible certain emotional states reserved for euphoric mania, belonging in psychiatric wards, occasionally escaping into the street where it dances and mixes through osmosis and becomes something else. you can't really feel that good without rolling out of your pajamas laughing and pawing at the man in a suit walking down the street. I'm currently listening to "between two lungs" on repeat. this is not "kiss with a fist" or "the dog days are over" her two more popular songs. "between two lungs" reminds one that it is possible to live your life as if it were a cathedral. an enormous cathedral that you make alive with a deep breath, exhale and the oxygen in the temple is alive. a modern cathedral borrowing it's blueprint from gothic architects. florence's life breath cathedral is all windows and steel, but it is shaped like a cross and spread out over many city blocks or many green fields or wherever the fuck the cathedral is. bring to your mind a conception of the biggest gothic cathedral you can imagine, now replace all the spires with rectangles of glass ribbed with steel. breathe and oxygen and huge walls of glass. You can see them and they can see you. This cathedral is open and alive and breathing and florence has all her machinery working in brutal order, the harps, and all the influence of musicians and philosophers and poets and painters. is it any wonder that i just finished reading "the fountainhead." with all her machismo and modernity. let's break with the past and create that which is absolutely unique to our time. let us eschew the anxiety of influence and create that which is for only now. modern man's impotent brilliance. but florence looks at Ms. Rand and laughs a manic laugh and her machine starts and the music begins and Ms. Rand must sit down. all those wonderful musical influences already discussed in overwhelming detail, fiona apple, bjork, dylan, regina spector, arcade fire, but florence takes all the musicality and spreads it out over the glass walls of her modern cathedral so the music is pulsating and, not surprisingly, the walls of glass begin to breathe like lungs of a giant saber toothed tiger on the sprint, chasing down pre-historic prey. i saw the greatest minds of my generation stuck in some fucked up job. without the space to pursue what is pure. without the space to breathe their world view, their philosophy, their entrails, shit, sorrow, blood, fucking fluids, their ideas, their conflicts, their homosexuality "who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors," their bi-sexuality, i saw the greatest minds of my generation from a distance on wall street, cheating, i saw the greatest minds of my generation not creating art. what shame. what poverty. and like arcade fire's first release circa 2005, florence and the machine give out to the world a collection of songs (you can pick and choose) and one of these songs is literally called "cosmic love" and it literally is a beautiful song. cosmic love, as if the graduate had just been released in IMAX 3-D, as if the 1960s didn't come up with enough cosmic love to white out those two words for eternity. but florence pulls from eternity, "the stars, the moon," she's literally singing about these things blowing up. and it is a great song. what the fuck florence, have you no fear? you are an eccentric being with your labels and posters and string sections and your art school and your voice. a voice that is quiet in the right places and husky when the song calls for husky and brutal. arial and diaphanous and liquid and strength. and petering and pulsating and re-focused on the breath again.

but this is not about florence. it is about the modern cathedral in glass. and you are in the center. this is your life, your cathedral. what the fuck are you going to do? are you headed to the wall to wipe your fuck face on the street? are you headed to new york? are you headed to brooklyn or union square or the lower...east...side? the dog days are over. i never wanted anything from you except everything you have and what was left after that too. happiness.

you are in the cathedral and the glass walls are breathing and your soul is frenetic, finally the angst has become too much and you are quivering and shaking and the truth of your pure fluid is going to flow, and you are on the precipice. before chest pains pull you into the shadows and the blip, do what you love. for god's sake do what you love. do what you love, shaking and falling and sobbing, let it spill. we are all too young to die. do what you love!!!

"you hit me once

i hit you back

you gave a kick

i gave a slap

you smashed a plate over my head

then i set fire to our bed.

a kiss with a fist is better than none"

florence has many options open to her now. she passed the test, the implications of which may be felt for many years to come. of course, i can't predict the future. however, it is my birthday today. i am 33.

with love for your preservation and process.

Anthony

not about you

people are very often going through something that has absolutely nothing to do with you. you may walk past a person on the street and normally say hello, and this person may look mean and unwilling to share a simple greeting. so many times this has nothing to do with you. it might be your professor or your boss or the lady at the dmv or the woman interviewing you for a new job. the point is to let it go. be patient with the person and with yourself. let yourself be free from the temporary pain. embrace your own sense of calm and self-worth. the distraction quickly reaches a resolution. you move on. and happiness is felt again in your body.

listen to sam cooke's, "Live at the Harlem Square Club." this will make you feel better.

with love.

Anthony

shrapnel danced flesh

My apologies to all the readers across the country, throughout the world. I have not been a good friend. Failing to post with any regularity. Like bowel movements these postings should be regular and relieve internal pressure. There is an excuse! I've been getting a new job and starting a new job and focused on a new job. I'm a Graduate Student Services Advisor in the Department of Psychology at the University of California, Berkeley. I am using my left brain. I am in love with organization and time management and leadership. Those heretics to creative brilliance. But I have not forgotten about you fair reader. I have been welling up with content, feeling like none of it is worth making public. But there are some older documents that I now want to post. You will find a new poem ("shrapnel danced flesh") and an album review ("Deus Ex Machina") to your right. The poem will not be prefaced with an explanation, mostly because I am not capable of providing one. The album review is of Neon Bible, Arcade Fire's second album. I completed this review a few years ago when that album was released. As for future postings, please demand that I write about my experience at the Fox Theater in Oakland bearing witness to the Black Keys, those white boy thieves. That genius little white man and his drummer shredding musical content. I haven't felt a crowd react like that in some time. Very much from the gut bucket. And then the Arcade Fire at the Greek in Berkeley. There is much to discuss.

If you haven't been listening to the Rolling Stones reissue "Plundered My Soul," I suggest you do so.

I continue to love you all and crave your connection.

Anthony

sonny

i like songs. i'm less into albums. i like digital music. i don't own a record player. you can see my "music writer cred" falling off a cliff to certain death. but i never had it to begin with. so, let if fall away with all the pretensions and encyclopedic knowledge of 90s shoegaze essentialism. i'm just a guy that likes some music. and one of the bands i'm particularly a fan of these days is sonny and the sunsets, a san francisco band led by the quirky sonny smith. (sonny is also a writer, by the way, with various plays and short stories to his credit. : )

i first heard 30 seconds of a sonny song on kalx's "the next big thing." i felt it immediately and when the dj mentioned an upcoming show, i made a blackberry note to go and see the show. i first saw sonny and his sunsets at the bottom of the hill in san francisco in january or february 2010 opening for two other bands. the bottom of the hill is a great venue with great sound, and sonny rocked. he has this beautiful, twangy, old-school guitar. it looks a little bit acoustic country, but it plays electric. not sure if he just added electric pickups or if it was made electric. it's made of this bronze wood and you can tell this guitar has been through an entire life of ups and downs. it's chipped in places, and you're just hoping it stays together when sonny starts to play hard. their music is country, blues, folk, and indie all at the same time. and sonny can play. he can't sing so good, but that's ok. he can definitely sing well enough to pull off his songs, and that's all that matters.

recently sonny and the sunsets have been enjoying a bit of "hype." they played sxsw and their newest "single" from their newest ep was featured on pitchfork. even Spin got in on the fun and reviewed sonny's last full album, "tomorrow is alright." Spin only gave the album a 6 out of 10, which isn't great. but it's honest. the album has a couple great songs with quite a few so-so songs to complete the deal.

sonny and the sunsets live show at the bottom of the hill rocked. the bassist played this pink bass with a pick and he fucking rocked shit. i got a little bit of a beatles vibe watching the bassist play, but you mix that in with portland indy flavours, texas country silliness and a good dose of the delta blues. they played uptempo and i thoroughly enjoyed their 45 minute set, which began with a great version of "don't be dumb," a great song that is, painfully, not on the album.

ok, fast forward a few months to today. here's a link to the pitchfork page:

sonny songs

you can listen to his newest track, "the hypnotist." this song is incredibly good. the guitar picking is fantastic. and the melody and lyrics make you feel strange, strange but good, soft and funny and sweet. but not at all mushy. it's too wonderfully strange to be mushy. mashed potatoes it is not.

"all my life I've been a misfit, but now i'm with the hypnotist."

you can also listen to "too young to burn," probably the best song off his "tomorrow is alright" album.

wow, i just checked their myspace site:

myspace.com/sonnythesunsets

and they have a whole host of new shows, opening for various bands across the country. wow. that is amazing. last time i checked they had three shows lined up in san francisco. well, you've been warned, go out and see 'em.

Anthony