Garden

The Coast

I wrote this once. I posted on this same picture once before, too. But this essay was written before that. I just didn't post it here. But I was thinking about it now, thinking about this memory, and I decided I wanted to post it.

~

I could stare at this picture forever.

The white foam of the receding tide retreating from the frozen sand, a glassy surf left in its wake. A mirror to the dusk Maine sky.

The frozen coast silently following the shoreline, curving to the treacherous rock peninsula where chilling waves violently crash day after day.

The expensive, coast-side houses cowering below the expansive, rainbow-colored sky, already nearing dark despite the mid-afternoon hour.

She stands on the edge of the photo, stealing a glance at the camera. The collar of her heavy coat reaches up towards her ears, protecting from the twenty-degree air. She wears two hats: the bill of her beige cap hides one eye, while a dark stocking doubles over the cap for extra warmth. Her lone visible eye smiles in the camera’s direction, right above the slight, dimpled grin. There’s not much of her to be seen, but the small patch of face that shows reveals the gentle, beautiful soul buried within the heavy clothes.

I tell her it is the best picture I’ve ever taken. She shrugs off my comment and keeps walking along the stiff sand, piercing the frigid wind. She acts annoyed; I’ve been running alongside her ever since we punched through the foot of snow at the dune, snapping random shots of her, of us. But she’s not really annoyed.

The wind numbs our faces as we push on towards the setting sun. The departed tide has left pools along the coast, frozen pools now. The thin ice disappears in the dark, only visible when the twilight skates across its surface. The snow has been stolen away by the tide, but the dunes beyond the tide’s reach are still hidden underneath a pile of the previous day’s precipitation.

Though the biting cold threatens to turn us away, we continue on as if there were a final destination within reach. But there isn’t. Maybe we’re just too scared to turn away from that sunset. The quiet colors of the sky and the hushed flow of the ocean have entranced us, such that turning back seems senseless for the moment.

“I love you.” Sometimes we can’t say it enough. But it’s not forced; love is not something to be expressed out of necessity. It’s something that bursts from you because you take such pleasure in saying it, in doing it, in living it. And especially in these moments, there are simply no words to describe what you feel other than “I love you.”

We’ve stopped walking. The rocks loom in front of us, so beautiful despite their menacing stature. Not worth risking it.

She turns to make the trip back along the beach. I grab her sleeve and pull her towards me, not ready to leave this moment. She smiles. She’s used to this. Our lips have been numbed by the wind, their bond absent from our sense. But we simply want to be held by each other.

Cleveland

I know I'm really late in sharing this video, but I didn't see it until Saturday.

I cried I was laughing so hard. I don't think you have to be a Clevelander or Ohioan to get it, you just have to not take it seriously.

Cleveland really isn't so bad. Of course, some of the things he sings of aren't entirely untrue.

But hey, at least it's not Detroit. (Sorry, Katie.)

How Rick Rubin Destroyed the Avett Brothers

Forget everything you've read about the new Avett Brothers record. Put down that issue of Paste magazine that gives the record a glowing 96 out of 100 review. Ignore the bloggers and music journalists who are acting like the Avetts are some fascinating project from the hills finally earning their due on the national stage. And heed no attention to a few things I said in my last post.

Why? Because the record is not as good as they say. It is hardly an Avett Brothers records at all; it's a pop record. And I blame Rick Rubin.

If you read my last post, you know a little bit of background regarding my love affair with the Avett Brothers. Suffice it to say, I adore them. Their raw energy, their inspired lyrics, their incredible passion for not just the song, but the performance of the song. Especially now that I've relocated to North Carolina, the Avett's home state and a place that is smitten with the fellas, I am overcome with a sort of pride for them, happy to see them garner deserved attention and fans across the country.

But I was a little wary of their working with Rick Rubin on this latest album, I and Love and You. It just didn't smell right. A grassroots band from rural Carolina working with a man who has produced Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake, Metallica, Linkin Park, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers? Didn't add up.

And now, two weeks and several spins through the record later, I've drawn the conclusion that Rubin has in fact destroyed this Avett Brothers record.

Here me out before you start hatin', because I'm not trying to point fingers, nor am I crying foul of the Brothers themselves. I will remain a loyal Avett Brothers fan, and will anxiously anticipate their future work. I'll continue respecting and loving the Brothers, and I'll shrug this album off as a "Could you refuse Rick Rubin?" career hiccup.

But let's boil it down to this fact: This album is not the Avett Brothers.

What makes the Avett Brothers great is their energy, their carelessness, their imprecision. What makes them great is that they don't have to hit the right note, they don't have to be in the right tempo, and they don't have to be squeaky clean. The thing about the Avett Brothers that has earned them fans to this point is that, in their softest of ballads and most rollicking of hum-dingers, they're always willing to take a chance, unconstrained by the boundaries of sensible music-making.

And I and Love and You reverses all of that. It is careful, precise, calculated. It doesn't take any chances, but instead sticks to the Rick Rubin-penned script. It is a pop record.

I'll try not to stick all of the blame on Rubin. Out of my loyalty to them, I'm unwilling to put blame on the Avetts, but the truth is they did write these songs (though I've heard Rubin was instrumental in several of the songs' creation). Honestly, I just want to blame the piano, because more often than not the primary culprit in making me cringe during some of these songs is the daggone keys.

Let's take a step back and look at the situation: Rick Rubin wanted to produce the new Avett Brothers record. They accepted because it was Rick Rubin. They left their old home at Ramseur Records and joined Rubin's "major label" American Recordings (a sensible career choice; gotta pay the bills). The two parties convened, a lighting storm of the Avetts' incredible folksy talent and Rubin's perfected mainstream production skills commenced, and a lovechild byproduct came out the other end that ultimately had mostly Rubin's features instead of the Avetts', so much so that we're left to wonder if Rubin might not have been entirely faithful.

Oops, just used the word "mainstream." I was trying my hardest not to use the words "mainstream" or "sell out." Shoot.

Okay, my mind is wandering. It's late and I'm desperately trying to piece this all together in my head. Truth is, I really don't want to hate this record. I want to love it like I love the rest of the Avett Brothers' material.

Ultimately, after listening to it over and over and over again, I'll boil the record down to this: "I and Love and You," "January Wedding," "Ten Thousand Words," "Laundry Room," and "Tin Man" are great songs that fit perfectly into the Avett arsenal (despite some overly polished production work on a few of them). "Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise," "And It Spread," "Ill With Want," "Slight Figure of Speech," "It Goes On and On," and "Incomplete and Insecure" are pedestrian indie songs at best, a couple of them with some decent hooks.

And "The Perfect Space" and "Kick Drum Heart"? Well, they would be okay if it weren't for the cringe-inducing piano that sounds like it was pre-programmed onto a toy Cassio. Honestly Rick Rubin, what's the deal? These boys can rock, and you've reduced them to some tinkling toy piano? Where's the banjo?!

I'll conclude with this plea to the Avett Brothers: Don't become the next Kings of Leon. Don't be awesome and then succumb to the desires of a mainstream audienece, letting them make you very un-awesome. The fans deserve better.

Ditch Rick Rubin.

I and Love and You

Apart from my man crush on Sufjan, there are a couple of other artists whom I go ga-ga for on a pretty regular basis. It is a select group of artists whom I can listen to at any time of day, any time of year and, well, it's pretty exclusive. (No big deal.)

The Avett Brothers are definitely members of this group. I fell for them hard two years ago through their album Emotionalism, and haven't looked back. I (try to) learn their songs on guitar, I (think I) woo Katie with their lyrics, and I find that I (probably falsely) relate to them on some sort of level (what that level is I'm not sure, but a man can dream). Heck, a song from these guys could end up as the first-dance song at my wedding. (At least I'm pushing for it. Stay tuned.)

Regardless, they released a new album today, I and Love and You. It's their major label debut, and was produced by none other than mega-music-producer, I-could-produce-three-platinum-albums-in-my-sleep-using-only-the-skin-on-my-left-elbow Rick Rubin. I haven't purchased it yet (saving it for the record-shopping spree with the boys on Saturday), but I've streamed it a couple of times. Despite this nagging feeling that they should have avoided Rick Rubin (just seems so mainstream) I'm finding that the album is unsurprisingly fantastic.

I'll probably post my track-by-track review of the album sometime next week, after I've bought the vinyl and descended from the Cloud 9 that I'm expecting U2 to perch me atop Saturday night, but in the meantime, this is the music video for first single "I and Love and You." It does a pretty good job showing the world what these Carolina boys are like, and just how beautiful their songs can be. Enjoy.

New Sufjan

You may know by now that I have, well, a thing for Sufjan Stevens. The man is quite extraordinarily talented, and produces some of the greatest, in my opinion, music of the new millennium.

Of course, he hasn't released a proper album of new material since 2005. There have been b-sides and Christmas albums, and there will soon be a classical re-mix of an old album (Enjoy Your Rabbit) and an album of orchestrated songs about a highway in Brooklyn (The BQE). But the Sufjan of old has been at rest since Illinois.

Which might not be a bad thing. I complain a lot about the lack of new material from Sufjan, but that's because I, selfishly, want him to keep blowing my mind. There can be too much of a good thing, though; if Sufjan put out an album a year, I think we would be overloaded. Plus, you've gotta give the guy some credit - at least he's not been doing nothing for the last 4 years.

Recently, Sufjan has been touring the U.S. in support of The BQE (but of course, nowhere near Durham). My friends had the unbelievable privilege of seeing him in Cleveland, and my sister, brother-in-law, and unborn nephew will see him next week in Portland, Maine (I will never, ever let my nephew live down the fact that he gets to see Sufjan before I do. Well, maybe not see, but at least attend a concert. You know what I mean.) From the sounds of it, Sufjan is impressing once again with his quirky, awesome musical shenanigans.

The video above was posted to the web last week, having been filmed at one of the recent Sufjan stops. It's the performance of a brand new song, "There's Too Much Love." From the sounds of it, Sufjan might be exploring some more, shall we say, experimental sounds in his new stuff.

I was kind of afraid this was the direction he would be taking when I heard his "You Are the Blood" cover on the Dark was the Night compilation. I should say, I'm very biased towards Sufjan's acoustic, hushed songs, like "For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti," "Vito's Ordination Song," and "To Be Alone with You." Those songs have pulled me out of some bad times, and never fail to give me goosebumps, even sometimes bringing tears to my eyes. His jubilant, stuff, meanwhile, is still awesome, but sometimes requires a little bit more patience and the proper mood to really appreciate it. "There's Too Much Love" (and some of his other new stuff, according to my friends) seems to hint that Sufjan might be leaning more towards the latter type of songwriting.

But you know, I'm actually really digging "There's Too Much Love." The spastic interlude towards the end gets a little too crazy, but overall this is a really catchy song. Any other thoughts?

This is Durham (Fall)

(Photo, courtesy Takaaki Iwabu, is actually Durham. Eno River Park. Look it up.)

Tuesday, September the 8th, was the first day of fall quarter at Ohio University, and, effectively, the first time in 18 years that I did not go back to school in the fall. I thought it would be weirder than it was.

Funny thing happened the following Thursday, though. It was 68 degrees here in Durham. Yes, 68 degrees; colder than Athens and even, in fact, colder than Katie's current "home" in Detroit. I imagine it's the last time this year that Durham will be colder than Detroit.

Needless to say, there was a certain "fall air" about that day and it, well, warmed me. Admittedly, fall is one of my favorite times of the year; I love the temperature, I love the leaves falling, I love the excuse to wear jeans. I love Halloween. I love the lead-up to Thanksgiving. I love going back to school.

Oh, wait.

It is a funny thing about fall that is rather hard to pinpoint. I've never tried this experiment - nor will I ever - but if you asked 10 people what their favorite season of the year is, I would put money on at least six or seven of them saying fall. At least, it is my favorite season. I think it's Katie's favorite season, too. Various members of my family might agree as well. But why is it that we love fall? Is it the temperature? The leaves falling? The excuse to wear jeans? Or maybe it's Halloween? The lead-up to Thanksgiving?

No, my friends, I submit that the reason so many of us love the fall is simple: We love going back to school.

As hard as that may be to believe - and perhaps it's just that I, alone in my Durham apartment, am waxing a little on the nostalgic side of late - think of it this way: We are all trained to associate fall with beginnings. Why? Well, for most of us, the first 22 (or 18) falls of our lives (or at least the conscious ones) are spent going back to school, starting anew with a fresh grade, maybe fresh friends, perhaps a fresh environment. Others greet the autumnal beginning of school even more, either spending additional years as an undergrad, dedicating themselves to further degrees, or becoming an education professional. Or, you know, all three (I'm looking at you, Dad).

But even for those of us who don't languish in an educational environment, the fall culture still surrounds us: The kids go off to school. Soccer practice starts. College football is on TV. It is a new beginning. A fresh start.

You have to admit it: there's something fun about going back to school. Or at least living in the culture of it.

And so it is, with these thoughts on my mind, that I've reverted to my autumnal listening habits. Just what, you ask, do your autumnal listening habits look like? And why, you wonder, have you quite abruptly shifted from a discussion on school to a discussion on music? Good questions, the both of them. The short answer would be "awesome" and "because this is my blog, not yours." But there is a long answer, too. There's always a long answer.

The last four falls have been four of the most significant seasons in my life. The fall of my freshman year of college was maybe the most significant of all; few seasons in life feature as much change as the fall of freshman year of college. The falls of my sophomore, junior, and senior years each respectively carried their own twists, turns, and dashes of change as well; each ushered in a new year of school, a new status with friends, a new living scenario, and an overall new environment to adapt to.

Maybe it was because I spent so many of those days walking introspectively about Athens kicking at the fallen, dried leaves strewn across the bricks that those seasons felt so long. Each and every one of them. Felt like entire years in and of themselves.

Considering the great changes that fall brought about in college and the profound immensity by which each passed silently from early September to late November, its no big surprise that the soundtracks that carried me through each of those seasons would be so permanently and remarkably etched onto my brain. Indeed, each fall I discovered new artists, and in turn those artists painted a musical impression upon my brain of what fall is supposed to be. And so those songs came to represent fallen leaves. They came to represent cooler temperatures. They came to represent new beginnings.

My freshman year, it was Sigur Ros, Ryan Adams, My Morning Jacket. Sophomore year introduced Explosions in the Sky, Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, The Decemberists, M. Ward, Nickel Creek, Ray LaMontagne, TV on the Radio. Fall of junior year welcomed the Avett Brothers, Band of Horses, Denison Witmer, and Josh Ritter. Then finally the first season of the last year ushered in Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver.

Whenever I listen to these artists, I feel a wave of nostalgia and memory wash over me, throwing me back onto those leaf-covered brick sidewalks that led to class, or onto my friend-saturated porch where we would watch the leaves fall off that tree between Gam and Tiffin Halls. I'm knocked back into the comforting times of yesteryear, those seasons where everything was fresh, where everything was still ahead of me.

Now here it is: mid-September, and I'm still in Durham. Classes have begun, and I'm still at work. The temperature is dropping, the leaves are starting to change, and I'm inside, sitting at a desk.

Such was the case that Thursday, with the 68-degree day. Overcast, windy, cool - typical fall stuff.

Driving home from work that day, I decided to listen to some Explosions in the Sky. The next day, in my office, I listened through M. Ward's catalog. Same with Josh Ritter, Ray LaMontagne, and Band of Horses. It was almost a natural happenstance; with the arrival of fall, so came the arrival of these artists that have so thoroughly represented the season into my listening habits. And it continued; this entire last week, it was one artist after another that I have either discovered or listened to heavily in the fall. The temperature wavered - in fact, it climbed back to 90 one day and dipped again to the high 60s another - but fall still hung in the air, the leaves still began to shift colors, and college football was still on TV. And so I have comforted myself with my fall music.

It sure does make me miss Athens. And my friends, too.

But you know, I've discovered a lot of new bands recently. The xx, out of the UK, are rocking my world right now. Same with jj, from Sweden. Then there's Megafaun, Bowerbirds, the Felice Brothers, the Duke & the King, and Joe Purdy. All of them, new to my music catalog, new to my music vocabulary. All of them soundtracking the seasonal change here in Durham.

It dawned on me that these bands - the xx, jj, Megafaun, and the like - will one day represent the fall of my first year in Durham. I will listen to them and my drives across the city, my quiet times at the Parkwood Lake or at Duke Gardens, and my exploration of new places and things - with leaves changing and falling - will flood back in a wave of nostalgia. They will come to be comfort bands just as the bands of falls past have. I might not look as fondly upon them as acts like M. Ward or Explosions in the Sky - after all, this is the "fall without Katie" - but they and the bands yet to be discovered in the coming months will still hold a special place in my music library and music memory, if only to represent my first fall in my new home.

Because just like the falls of the last four years, I'm in a new living scenario, with new friends and a new environment to adapt to. It is a new beginning, a new season, and with a fresh start, I still have everything ahead of me to look forward to.

This is Durham (Megafaun)

The Longest Day - Megafaun

There are many reasons why I find myself falling in love with the city of Durham. The restaurants, the rustic old warehouses, the ultimately humble, easy-going personality that sits unhindered by the fast-paced, modern life that surrounds it (my regards to Raleigh and Chapel Hill, both nice cities in their own right).

I'm sure I'll detail in length, some day, what it is about Durham that I'm falling in love with. For now I'll mention one new reason why I love this place: Megafaun.

On Saturday night I whisked Katie away to my first "real" show down here since moving in late June. Held at the Carrboro Arts Center, the show featured Bowerbirds and Megafaun - the former based in Raleigh, the latter based in Durham - who played a Homecoming show of sorts, as the two bands had been on the road for six weeks prior. I was excited to see the bands on their home turf, but have to admit that while I was already a fan of Bowerbirds, I knew little of Megafaun apart from the fact that they were the former bandmates of Bon Iver (which was a heavy selling point for Katie).

Megafaun played first, and I was shocked. Absolutely shocked. There are few shows I can point to where I felt like I did during their performance. It wasn't just a show; it was an event, a connection of everyone in the room, everyone wholeheartedly participating in the music. It reminded me of the time I saw Man Man at the Union in Athens a couple of years back. No, Megafaun is not nearly as aggressive or intense as Man Man (though they have their moments). What the two shows had in common is that the bands were not merely performing their songs, they were putting forth every last ounce of energy and passion into their music because, well, it's what they do. And they clearly love it.

The song I've posted above would make one wonder how in the hell someone could ever make a connection between Megafaun and Man Man (and really, there aren't many). This song, "The Longest Day," does a good job of showing the band's range; they jump back and forth from folk to bluegrass to gypsy to experimental, and somehow they manage to land here, in the land of crazy awesome Americana ballad.

When they played "The Longest Day" live, they pulled the plugs and did it acoustic, belting to the crowd of 400 or so, all of us dead silent. It was one of those cool moments when you aren't just listening to the music, you're feeling the music and your mind is completely enveloped by it.

I'm not trying to get gushy on Megafaun; maybe I'm just trying to brag that these guys are here, these guys are local for me now.

But that performance of "The Longest Day" on Saturday night, along with the rest of their show, helped characterize the camraderie, the passion, and the life that is this peculiar triangle in North Carolina. And to a large extent, it helped me finally feel like I'm home, because honestly, this is a lot like what I always felt in Athens.

7 South from Burlington

I'm keeping one eye on the road and one eye on her. If I had a third eye it'd be on what was just beyond her, out the passenger-side window. It'd be on that view of the Adirondacks, the mammoth, forested mountains so immense despite their being 20 miles or so away, on the other side of Champlain.

We're still in Vermont, picked up route 7 back in Burlington, where we stopped for a seafood lunch and gaped at the geologic wonders from the fisher's wharfs on the shore of Champlain. The mountains are bigger than the standard Appalachians we're used to, and we couldn't help but snap some photos. The mountains didn't turn out. Too far away.

Ferries between New York and Vermont were stalled 'til late April on account of Champlain being frozen in the middle, so we had to pick up 7 and haul it down south, where the lake would be narrow enough for us to cross over via a bridge and pick up 9 North to Port Henry. From Port Henry we'd drive northwest, eventually commuting across upstate New York on 73 and 86, passing through Lake Placid on our way to Saranac Lake. Beautiful lakeside towns, popular in summer and winter. It's late March now.

We've got a playlist running, one I'd made up back in Ohio, special for this Spring Break roadtrip. Mix of acoustic and anthemic, roadtrip-worthy tunes. But mostly acoustic. That's what she likes best.

So far we've been through Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Connecticut, where we'd spent three nights with my grandfather. From there it was on through Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Maine. A few more nights spent at my sister's and brother-in-law's, then we'd high-tailed back down to New Hamphire and promptly headed due west, up through Vermont to Burlington.

Now here we are, cruising south on 7 from Burlington, running parallel to the Adirondacks.

She's smiling at me. Glances at the mountains, takes a picture, then turns back to me. Her beaming face is something I'll never grow accustomed to, never grow old of. No, it's new, fresh, lovely, every time I see it. She's looked at me like this many times on this trip as we travel together, discover together. It's a loving face, a content face, a never-wanting-to-leave this-moment face. I love it.

The two-lane road winds up and down over the Adirondack foothills, around sweeping curves and past vineyards, fields, quiet little villages. Some houses perch atop hills along the road, staring blankly at the lake and the mountains on the far side. No matter the cold, cloudy, leaf-less land. We love it here.

The mountains never leave us, firmly and intensely gazing across the lake, taunting us of our drive to come. What lies across the lake is more driving, more gaping, more laughing and carelessly enjoing a new region, new adventure. More singing along to the playlist. More talking about our life together. Of beauty. Love. God. These sorts of things.

To this point, there's no telling how many hours I've spent in the car with her. But I know now that I'd gladly spend the rest of time right here in the driver seat. One eye on the road, one eye on her.

Following the road signs, we turn west, heading finally towards the mountains. Another song starts, and we smile at each other for what seems like the millionth time. It's a familiar tune, a slow-walk of a song that drives with some banjo, acoustic guitar, harmonies. It's beautiful and wonderful, and we've sung along to it together several times before. Now here it is, introducing us to the bridge that will carry us over Lake Champlain and into the New York wilderness that lies before us.

Four months later I would propose to her. Four months later we would be separated by miles, by states, by hours of travel. But we'd be committed to more road trips, more talks of beauty, of love. Of God.

She would write to me shortly before leaving for an extended period of time. "I love you more than you know," she'd write. "I will miss you - keep the passenger seat open for me, I can't wait to ride with you again, my dear."

I'll miss her. I'll long for her. I'll cry for her. But I'll know that, just like I did on our trip down 7 South from Burlington, I'll always have her there next to me, enjoying the ride. And I'll always have one eye on the road, one eye on her.

At the "Cemetery Gates"

In October of 2007 I scored front-row seats for me and Katie to see Andrew Bird perform at Stuart's Opera House in Nelsonville, Ohio. To this day, I cite it as one of the greatest performances I have ever been witness to, and Katie and I generally reference it as one of our favorite early memories together.

I acknowledged in my Athens Insider review of the show that it seemed as if an entire orchestra were performed by one man; Bird uses looping pedals and his violin to quite literally create the sound of a symphony. The absolutely immense musical power that he projected from the stage was hair-raising, goosebump-inducing, stunning.

Recently, Bird performed some songs for Pitchfork inside a little church, a performance that the music site filmed and posted to the web, and which they've called "Cemetery Gates." What you will find in the "Cemetery Gates" is a sample of what I saw Andrew Bird do onstage at Stuart's Opera House: create a gorgeous orchestration that is not just musical, but also ethereal and spiritual in some ways (especially considering the five-song-performance's location).

I've posted below the video of Bird's "Cemetery Gates" performance of "Anonanimal," one of my favorite songs off his latest LP, Noble Beast. Enjoy.

Goodmorning

The first thing I will say is that I'm incredibly lucky. I know this. I have a job, an apartment, a loving family, and a beautiful fiance. For these things I am very grateful.

So to complain of being alone seems selfish. To say that I'm bored a lot, that I wish I were closer to friends, it just seems mean. I know that a lot of people would trade me spots. Two months ago this was the kind of spot I was dying to be in.

Don't get me wrong. It's the spot that I should be in... the spot I need to be in. And the spot that one day I'll look back and recognize was the most important spot I could've been in.

But still I can't help but feel alone. My friends and family are several hours away. The one person who makes every situation in my life better, no matter the bleakness, will be away from me for several months. So for now, I'm left to be alone.

Of course, I'm not alone. And it's remembering this fact that keeps me hopeful, keeps me happy, keeps me company. Soon enough, I'll truly be in the company of friends, of community, of a home. But for now, I have the company I need.

I find that the mornings are the most difficult to feel this company. It's when I wake up that the loneliness of every day hits the hardest; that moment when I realize that the day ahead of me contains more or less exactly what the day before contained, and what the day after that will contain as well. It is that split second when I open my eyes and turn off my alarm that I most strongly feel the empty hole within that longs for the presence of friends and of family.

But that moment always passes. And for that, too, I am very grateful.

I found a beautiful song today that goes a long way towards fixing that lonely moment I can't help but feel when I wake up in the morning. It's called "Goodmorning" by William Fitzsimmons; read the lyrics, listen to the song, discover the hope that we are meant to feel at the beginning of every day.

Goodmorning - William Fitzsimm...

Moonlight will fall
Winter will end
Harvest will come
Your heart will mend
Good morning
Good morning
You will find love
Good morning
You will find love
You will find love
Good morning
Good morning

"Good Morning" by William Fitzsimmons

To Ohio

So here I am, in my roughly 6-foot-by-10-foot, no-windowed office, wrapping up my first feature for the magazine in anxious anticipation of the afternoon, when I head home for the first time since moving to Durham. I've got The Low Anthem's album Oh My God Charlie Darwin streaming in the background, my first listen of an album I can tell I'm going to like a lot.

And wouldn't you know it, this song comes on. I got goosebumps.

To Ohio - The Low Anthem

I left Louisiana on the rail line, oo oo
I left Louisiana on the rail line, oo oo
I was trying to get to Ohio
Trying to get to Ohio

Lost my love before her time, oo oo
Lost my love before her time, oo oo
On the way to Ohio On the way to Ohio

Now every new love is just a shadow, oo oo
Every new love is just a shadow, oo oo

'Cause once you've known love you don't know how to find love, oo oo
Yeah once you've found love you don't know how to find new love
All the way to Ohio All the way to Ohio

Heard her voice come through the pines in Ohio
I heard her voice singing in the pines in Ohio

She sang bless your soul you crossed that line to Ohio Bless your soul you crossed that line oo oo All the way to Ohio All the way to Ohio

~

I'm coming home, Ohio. I'm coming home.

Grizzly Bear, "Ready, Able"

Killer performance of my favorite Veckatimest song on Letterman.

Out of the Dark

(Didn't have much to go with in terms of picture, so this will do.)

Graduation. Job offer. Moving. Engagement. My last month has been, well, insane. Between my last post and now, nearly everything in life has changed. And, thanks to the "timeliness" of Time Warner, I finally have cable/internet in my apartment, which means I can once again post to my blog.

I don't have much to say here now. There are many things to say, sure... like how I accepted the position of Associate Editor at QSR magazine, graduated from Ohio University with a degree in magazine journalism, moved to Durham, North Carolina, and proposed to my girlfriend of two years, Katie (she said yes). But those are not things I put here on this blog (at least, not all at once).

So instead, I'll tell you what music has sountracked this entire last month; the best albums and songs that have quite literally been all that I've listened to during this transition:

Best Albums


Grizzly Bear, Veckatimest - Forget Animal Collective; at the end of the year, this will be the album standing as the greatest of 2009. You can hold me to it, trust me; this is a gorgeous masterpiece, one that finds the Brooklyn acoustic mopers turn to a poppier, more "accessible" brand. And it's stunning.

White Rabbits, It's Frightening - Didn't know much about this band when I picked up their latest LP, but opening track "Percussion Gun" immediately hooked me. Maybe I'm biased, but the way these guys lace their indie/garage rock with almost tribal drums really stirs me in way I'm not often stirred (hmm... probably weird imagery).

Phoenix, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix - Another pick-up on a whim, this electro-pop French rock is catchy and fun to blare on a sunny North Carolina day (lucky for me, that's pretty much been my last three weeks).

Dirty Projectors, Bitte Orca - The only way I know how to explain them is to say that they would be the love child of Vampire Weekend and the Talking Heads.

Passion Pit, Manners - Yeah, I've discussed them already, but so what? Maybe by mentioning them again you can get it through your head - THIS IS ONE OF THE BEST RECORDS OF THE YEAR. Okay, maybe that didn't need all-caps, but I want to drive home the point so you go get it. Trust me.

Best Songs

"Ready, Able" by Grizzly Bear - I'll start by saying that my favorite song off of Veckatimest changes pretty much every day, but for now, I'll stick with "Ready, Able" (with "Two Weeks" a close second and "I Live With You" bringing in the bronze). These guys just found a way to create awesome melodies in every single one of their new songs, and every time I listen to the record, I'm floored.



"Percussion Gun" by White Rabbits - Being a drummer and all, I find this song to be an adrenaline-fueled fist-pumper that demands playing at the beginning of nearly every car trip I take nowadays. Didn't know anything about these guys when I got the new record, and this, track one, sold me instantly. I replayed it about ten times the first day I had it.

Percussion Gun - White Rabbits

"Lisztomania" by Phoenix - Pretty fun electro-pop song from these French dudes, and, I imagine, a lot of fun to dance to (my dancing consists of shuffling about in the driver's seat of my car, and still, this song gets the job done).

Lisztomania - Phoenix

"Let Your Love Grow Tall" by Passion Pit - My favorite song off of Manners is still "Little Secrets" (in fact, not 30 minutes ago I officially anointed it my newest ring tone), but I'll give a shout-out to this track as well. I don't quite know how to explain it - it's catchy, it's anthemic, it's dark, it's dancy... it's got a little bit of everything. All I know is when it goes into the musical breakdown before the chorus, I tend to start driving just a little bit faster.

Let Your Love Grow Tall - Pass...

Mind Your "Manners"

I have two weeks of college left, and a lot of my life post-June 13 has yet to be determined. I'm swamped this week with tying up loose ends, and am exhausted from, well, the last 4 years of academics.

Needless to say, I've not had time to post to this here blog (though, if I'm unemployed in two weeks, that will change quite dramatically.) I've also been in desperate need of some pick-me-up music.

Killing two birds with one stone, here is a write-up I just completed for the Athens News' Ear Buds section of a killer album I've been listening to fairly non-stop for the last three days. Go buy it and listen to it all summer. It's called "Manners," from the Boston band Passion Pit.

Passion Pit, "Manners": Melodic dance-pop albums are usually not my thing; the sugar coated catchiness of the melodies, the wandering fuzz of the synths and the cliche nonsensical lyrics typically drive me crazy after a third or fourth listen. Such albums are intended mostly for the dance floor, not for an iPod-assisted walk to work, and don't spend too much time trying to chalk up originality points. But "Manners" from Passion Pit is something quite different: a crazy-melodic record from start to finish, it laces each song with a throbbing tempo, inspired lyrics and an eclectic mix of synths and indie rock that avoids any kind of pretentiousness. Imagine mixing the catchy synths of M83 with the dance-rock of Of Montreal, and throwing in some children-choir vocals and fast-forwarded samples-a-la-Kanye West for good measure - that'll give you an idea of what this Boston-based band sounds like. In a just world, this entire album would be the go-to anthem for summer 2009.

Here is my favorite song from the album, "Little Secrets."

Little Secrets - Passion Pit

Snapshot

I'm currently taking an intro photography class at OU. I didn't need to take it; I wanted to take it. I've always been fascinated by photography, but beyond pointing and shooting, haven't had a clue what to make of it. So now I do. Here are some of my shots that I've taken in the last couple weeks, with some songs to soundtrack. Enjoy.

I Turn My Camera On - Spoon

Kamera - Wilco

Country Mile - Camera Obscura

American Hearts - A.A. Bondy

The Privateers - Andrew Bird

All My Friends - LCD Soundsyst...

Scenic World (Version) - Beiru...

Gentle Hour

Gentle Hour - Yo La Tengo

It's such a pleasure to touch your skin
To touch your skin
It's such a pleasure to touch your heart
To touch your heart
I can hardly wait

I couldn't bare it, to live for fear
Undressing you
You're in my heart all the time
All the time
I will wait till you arrive
To make it to the grave
And I couldn't have done
Anything else

A gentle love
A gentle heart
A gentle love
A gentle heart

All things that cause you trouble cause pain

It's such a pleasure to touch your skin
To touch your skin
It's such a pleasure to touch your heart
I can hardly wait

And I'm waiting to hear you now
To make it to the grave
And I couldn't have done
Anything else
I couldn't have done anything else

Fresh Ears (Sufjan Stevens)

I read an article on the A.V. Club's website last week that was basically an introduction to Morrissey. I thought that the concept was clever: give the reader an idea on how to get into an artist you've never really gotten into before. So I decided to kind of steal it. Okay, I decided to make it my own, kind of. Anyway, I'm going to call it "Fresh Ears," for lack of a better name. It's intended to give my readers a very simple introduction into some of my favorite artists, so they can enjoy them as well. There are lots of artists that I've wanted to get into but simply couldn't, as their collections are just too daunting. Like Morrissey. But I digress. This is my first edition, on Sufjan Stevens.

In 2005, Sufjan Stevens released an album called Illinois (or Illinoise or Come on Feel the Illinoise - it's been called all three), a 22-song epic of an album that mashed together several genres and tossed the boy-faced musical wonder into semi-stardom. The album, which was the second in Sufjan's now-famous 50-state project (an album for every state) graced the top of several "best-of" lists and made Sufjan (pronounced SOOF-yan) the go-to name-dropping guy for guaranteed press and indie cred (see Welcome Wagon.) The album also inspired the successes of many an artist who similarly tried their hand at a sort of indie symphonic sound (see The Decemberists, Beirut, or, of course, Welcome Wagon.)

Despite all of the hoopla surrounding "Illinois" and his ensuing B-side releases, there is much, much more to be heard of Sufjan Stevens. In fact, Illinois was his fifth official release, and remains his latest full-length of all-new material. The rest of his catalog is both masterful and confusing, gorgeous and schizophrenic.

So how do you officially "access" Sufjan Stevens? How do you become his next biggest fan? Follow these steps and you'll be obsessed in no time. (But be warned! By following these steps you'll also fall over every tantalizing whisper or hint of Sufjan's next album and obsess over which state he might/should do next.)

Just a Taste: Stream "To Be Alone with You." From Seven Swans, it's one of Sufjan's more recognizable tracks (thanks to "The O.C."), and is a fairly good account of what you'll find throughout the rest of his catalog (though it leans much more on the ballad side.)

To Be Alone With You - Sufjan ...

For Beginners: Buy Sufjan's third full-length, Michigan. It was a tough call between this and Seven Swans, but because of the latter's fairly deep and intimate spiritual leanings, I'm going to suggest you start on Michigan. Released in 2003, this was Sufjan's first step in the right direction, introducing his pallet of instruments that range from the acoustic guitar to the banjo to the glockenspiel to the oboe. For the most part, Michigan is a tame offering of Sufjan's sublime melodies and lovely orchestrations, offering very little of the bombast and energy permeating Illinois. This a very accessible collection of chill songs, boasting (in my opinion) Sufjan's best song - "For the Widows in Paradise, for the Fatherless in Ypsilanti" - as well as other standouts like "Vito's Ordination Song," "The Upper Peninsula," and "Oh God, Where are You Now?" While Sufjan's work before Michigan (which we'll get to later) was fairly insignificant on the lyrics front, his work here bounces back and forth between nonsensical and strikingly poignant (from "Vito's Ordination Song": "I always knew you / in your mothers arms / I have called your name / I have an idea / placed in your mind / to be a better man / I've made a crown for you / put it in your room / and when the bride groom comes / there will be noise / there will be glad / and a perfect bed.")

A Little Further: Stream "Jacksonville," from Illinois. I would have suggested you stream "Chicago" (definitely his most popular track - and one of his best - thanks to "Little Miss Sunshine"), but alas, I couldn't allow you to stream it here on this site. So instead, I recommend you listen to "Jacksonville," which is really pretty similar to "Chicago," if not just a touch more subdued. It introduces you to the full, symphonic, multi-instrumental and multi-faceted sound he managed to record on Illinois. It also gives you an idea of the direction Sufjan went following Seven Swans, and an idea of where he's heading in the future.

Jacksonville - Sufjan Stevens

Going Deeper: Buy Seven Swans, Sufjan's fourth full-length

that was released in 2004. Seven Swans is a bit of an anomaly in Sufjan's catalog. Coming on the heels of Michigan, it was a sharp change of pace that dropped the multi-instrumental sounds he had perfected on that album (and returned to on Illinois) in favor of minimal banjo and acoustic guitar. These 12 songs are also passionately beautiful, loving, and intimate, 12 spiritual songs that Sufjan uses to blatantly express his faith in God, a faith that he always hints at on other albums but never quite commits to as much as he does here. It's been considered Sufjan's "Christian" album, but it's so much more than that; Seven Swans is a legitimate album of worship. The poignant moments Sufjan danced around in Michigan take center stage. Combined with Michigan, you now have a good sense of Sufjan the vocalist and lyricist; now, it's time for you to get a sense of Sufjan the songwriter and composer.

For the Record: Stream "Dumb I Sound." It was featured on Sufjan's very first album, A Sun Came, and was recorded way back when Sufjan was just a college kid with a goofy name. Doesn't say much about his catalog aside from showing the vast talent that the guy can boast of in a song, but it's incredibly fascinating to hear old Sufjan and think about where he went with what he had.

Dumb I Sound - Sufjan Stevens

The Essential: Buy Illinois. Easily one of the greatest albums released this decade, Illinois is a mammoth of an album that is exciting, energetic, fun, purposeful and staggering. It wanders between road trip-worthy anthems and reflective ballads. It toys with a plethora of instruments and comes out the other side a symphony to be reckoned with. Sure, some lyrics stray back to the nonsensical that we heard on Michigan, but when you're writing a full-length album about a specific state, how in the heck do you expect to make sense the whole time? Thing is, even when Sufjan's words aren't exactly the most thought-provoking, somehow he still manages to paint vivid imagery across the entirety of the album. Just listen to "The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!"; the lyrics (ex. "Thinking outrageously I write in cursive / I hide in my bed with the lights on the floor / Wearing three layers of coats and leg warmers / I see my own breath on the face of the door") aren't the most sensible, and yet somehow the song induces this feeling, this understanding of what he's trying to say. It's like that throughout much of the album, from "John Wayne Gacy, Jr." (about the killer clown) to "Chicago" to "Casimir Pulaski Day" to "The Seer's Tower." In my opinion, Illinois is what the term 'Americana' really, truly describes: an ode to the ideas, the lifestyles, the joys of the American people.

Finally, you should know that I held Sufjan's most popular and best album for third for a reason: it's not, in my opinion, his most accessible. Some of the grandiosity takes some getting used to, and hopefully Michigan and Seven Swans weened you to what you find here appropriately.

A Look Forward: Stream "You are the Blood." Released a few weeks ago on the Dark was the Night AIDS benefit compilation, this is a ten-minute Sufjan track that potentially offers a look at where the artist is heading. Mind you, Sufjan hasn't released a full-length of new material since Illinois in 2005, so nobody really knows what he has up his sleeve for the years to come.(Edit: Thanks to Jeff for letting me know that "You are the Blood" is actually a cover of a Castanets song.)

You Are The Blood - Sufjan Ste...

For the Committed: If you've made it this far on your path towards Sufjan fan-hood, I suggest you buy The Avalanche. It's a collection of b-sides from the Illinois recordings that were compiled and released on the coattails of Sufjan's post-Illinois popularity in 2006. Funny thing is, Sufjan's b-sides are ten times better than most artists' regularly released material. If Illinois had never existed, and instead The Avalanche had been the only thing to come out of those sessions, I think the latter would still carry some significant weight. The only reason it's considered as inferior to Illinois is that it basically sounds exactly like Illinois (duh, came from the same sessions) and, of course, Illinois came first. What I'm trying to say is that if you like Illinois, you'll like this. But it's kind of like Illinois-lite (though just now I wonder what the experience would be like if The Avalanche were purchased before Illinois... if it would sound better... no, you know what? Illinois really is a lot better. Start with that.)

Just Casual: Okay, you've made it this far. You're a die-hard Sufjan fan now, owning his last three records and his b-sides collection. So where do you go from here? He has two albums that he released before Michigan, but let's wait on those, at least for the time being. What you want to do now (well, maybe not now; perhaps wait for October or November) is buy his Christmas collection. "Christmas collection!?" you say. "What the f*%&!?" Well, here's the scoop: For five years, from 2001-2005 (I think), Sufjan made Christmas EPs for friends and fami ly only. In the wake of his popularity, the EPs found their way to the internet, and in late 2006, fresh off his b-sides release, Sufjan released a box-set of the 5 discs, called Songs for Christmas. I know, I know, seems kinda kitsch and lame; Christmas releases are usually for yuppies like Michael McDonald and Kenny G. Don't count Sufjan out, though; his collection is, well, awesome (at least, as far as Christmas music goes.) There are a ton of originals, and classics like "O Holy Night," "Amazing Grace," and "Come Thou Fount" are truly beautiful. So if you're into Sufjan and you dig Christmas music, this box-set is a must.

For the Die-hard: Buy A Sun Came. Sufjan's very first album, recorded when he was in college and released back in 2000 on his start-up (and current) label Asthmatic Kitty. Obviously, at this point, Sufjan had yet to find his footing. The album is shaky, and much different and raw from his polished later material. Still, there are some gems on this album, and much to like if you really dig Sufjan's style. Specifically, tracks like "We Are What You Say" (sort of a midieval jamboree) and "Dumb I Sound" (previewed earlier) prove that even early in his career, Sufjan was flashing signs of brilliance as a songwriter. But you'll also find bizarre, lo-fi, fuzz-guitar tracks like "Super Sexy Woman," "Jason," and "Kill." Some strange stuff, but again, you'll dig it if you're a die-hard.

For the Obsessed: You've got the rest of Sufjan's collection. You think Illinois is God's gift to indie music, that Seven Swans is a songwriting masterpiece, and that A Sun Came is the greatest songwriter's debut since Jeff Buckley's Grace. Everything Sufjan touches is gold to you, and you just can't get enough. What to do? Well, I guess I can recommend Enjoy Your Rabbit, Sufjan's second full-length album. Why the hesitance, you ask? Well, let's just say that I, fan of all things Sufjan, don't even have Enjoy Your Rabbit. Last.fm tells me that I listen to Sufjan twice as much as I listen to anything else, and still, I haven't bothered to pick this album up. The reason? This isn't exactly classic Sufjan. Basically, it's an experimental electronic album that Sufjan composed after college based on the Chinese zodiac signs. In my opinion, it should hardly count toward his catalog. Not that it's bad (it isn't), it's just, well, weird. And nothing like his other stuff. So this is purely for Sufjan maniacs.

Well there you have it, my friends. The "Complete Guide to Becoming a Sufjan Nut." Hopefully this helps, especially for those of you who haven't had a clue where to start. Trust me, follow this plan and you won't regret it; Sufjan Stevens is one of the greatest modern songwriters, whose current and future material should prove to be legendary. Enjoy!

For further reference:

Sufjan's label

Sufjan's website

Sufjan fan site