April

Sun Kil Moon's "Ghosts of the Great Highway" is an important record to me.
I bought it senior year of high school while my friend Phil Byers and I were skipping school. We drove his parents' minivan into downtown Rochester and walked around for the afternoon. We walked from High Falls through the city to the Park Avenue neighborhood. The biggest event of our afternoon was strolling through the Museum of Natural History because we both agreed this was something we hadn't done in a while. This is, by the way, not considered a cool thing to do while skipping school. That idea didn't matter to us because the important thing was that we were free to do whatever we pleased: which was going to the effing museum! To balance it out, we also smoked pipes and went to hip poster and music shops.
In the poster shop they were playing the aforementioned record. I found out who it was and bought it used at the hip record shop we went to next.
This record is still nostalgic to me. It's one of the few records I feel so strongly attached to in this way. It is one of the few records from that long ago that I still listen to often. When I don't have the money to buy a new record I default to one of...let's say...5 records to listen to.
In the last year or so they have been the following:
1. Sun Kil Moon - Ghost of the Great Highway
2. Radiohead - either Amnesiac, Kid A, or In Rainbows
3. Bonnie 'Prince' Billy - The Letting Go
4. Wilco - Sky Blue Sky
5. Feist - The Reminder

All that to say,
I was pleasantly suprised to find that Kozelek's new record is fully streaming here.

There's something about Mark Kozelek's voice and songwriting that imparts a certain nostalgia on it's own. This record feels like it came from that same time in my life in which I bought and fell in love with "Ghosts" for the first time. In other words: Instead of being disappointed by this record after the personal experience attached to the previous record, I feel like that connection is somehow extended.

This feeling is what separates good and great records for me. A great record feels like it came from a certain time and place, which is both familiar and somewhat mysterious to the listener. I feel this way about all of the records I listed above. I suppose what I'm describing is transcendence. I guess my only point is that this record is transcendent.

"April" is not a perfect record: far from it. At 80 minutes long, it can't help but feel long. The 10 minute opening track feels like a test for the listener patience. A bit pretentious, I suppose. However: this record, and kozelek's records in general, are all about atmosphere. For me, this is not a record I want to sit and listen to start to finish. This is the type of record I want to put on while driving long distance, while cleaning the house, or taking a nap. If you don't have "Ghosts," buy it immediately. If you already love that record, buy this one, or listen to it for free online.

Illness leads to blogging

Well I have been sick the past 2 days or so. I went to the minute clinic this morning to get tested for strep. The nurse there said my throat looked "mean" but the test came back negative for strep. I still got some antibiotics and am still quarantined for the day at least.
Amanda gave me a book of Bukowski poems for valentines day (!) so I have been reading some of that between movies and naps. I have been surprised by the beauty in these poems when the content is typically so ugly and raw. I have tried to read his fiction and have given up out of exhaustion and frustration. HIs poetry, so far, is much more focused and even sometimes hopeful!

"I have 2 bullets left and
use them
both.

nothing in the air but
clouds. nothing in the air but
rain. each man's life too short to
find meaning and
all the books almost a
waste.

I sit and listen to them
singing.
I sit and listen to
them. "
-from 'people as flowers'

"to fight for each minute is to
fight for what is possible within
yourself,
so that your life and your death
will not be like
theirs.

be not like them
and you will
survive.

minute by
minute. "

-from "the minute"

I have been thinking about why it is that my generation identifies with a character like Bukowski so well. Not specifically Bukowski but the archetype of a self-destructive, self-loathing, self-pitying persona. Bukowski might as well be Conor Oberst, Thom Yorke, or Bob Dylan. Last year, living with Evan, much of our conversation revolved around our generation and what that means. The "pathetic generation," we sometimes called it. I am starting to see that this analysis has a lot to do with being surrounded by artists here in Nashville. The fact that I am surrounded by artists and entrepeneurs exaggerates this position, I admit; However there seems to be a certain attraction to the idea of being pathetic, helpless and hopeless. I see this reflected in music, literature, as well as films: take the characters in any Wes Anderson film for example. I, personally, often have the overt desire to submit to the knowledge that I am helpless: I want to light a cigarette, buy a bottle of whiskey and feel sorry for myself (cue "The Wind" by Cat Stevens).