Inspiration doesn’t strike you when you ask, it uppercuts when you’re about to turn your back. Brutal right? Brutal like being unable to form any thoughts on music for weeks on end. Work is distracting, relationships are distracting, fun is distracting. I’ve been so all-consumed in my own life so I’ve been forging new self-made soundtracks. New songs for new moments (and Suicidal Tendencies for the drive to work.) If happiness is what I’m feeling I couldn’t confirm it, simply because I’ve never felt this way before. Welcome to earache, I hope you didn’t tune out after so many silent waves.
Starting anywhere other than ‘God’s Favorite Customer’ would be misleading. If anything has been playing over and under my recent cornerstone moments it’s Father John Misty’s ‘president of the Elton John fan club’ altruistic drawl. Coming to like the album was almost completely accidental. ‘Hangout at the Gallows’ rushed over me like a cool breeze one Friday morning. Despite having listened to Father John Misty before the song was so refreshing I manufactured the song as my own portable ceiling fan. This album opener stands out so blatantly to me because sharing it with others has only enhanced my infatuation with it’s sound. The moment you share a song with someone important to you, that’s a moment worth relishing. Josh Tillman makes every lyric the twisting road between a field of daisies and a pasture of thorns. “Left foot, right foot, that’s the ticket. You’ll be back on top real soon.” It ricochets gently through you, tiptoeing softly over a charging piano and an angel’s choir. Always chill but with underlying desperation. Here we slide across state lines into ‘Mr. Tillman’, a whimsical, slightly woozy track. It makes you question whether The Beatles were using LSD to its full capabilities when they wrote ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.’ On occasion a frightening thought slips in, that Misty might not have friends to get by with. If you think the hazy film of acid coating your ears is enough to prevent Tillman from cutting up your heart, sticking toothpicks in it, and serving it to the guests at his cocktail party…well ‘Just Dumb Enough to Try’ is the knife dicing the cilantro dipping sauce to go with your heart. The drawl, the reluctance to admit the difficulties in crossing over from relationships forged with music back into your own skin again. ‘Date Night’ can be summed up with the lyric it sports at the end, “I didn’t get invited but I know where to go.” Confession time, it’s at this point in the album I realized I’m a big fan of Father John Misty. No longer just a casual connoisseur of his more political ballads, no my full-fledged desire to go along for the trip has blossomed. Just in time for the main course, ‘Please Don’t Die.’ I recommend you ensure Alexa can’t give you directions to the nearest bridge after this song because you’ll be sopping up emotions like it’s a purposeful second viewing of Manchester By the Sea. This song is Misty’s epic crescendo, despite being the fifth song in. It’s all-consuming to the point you almost want the album to stop right then and there. How one song can feel like a recently polished pair of Docs stomping on your heart and taking off to a beautiful place you’ve never been at the same time, that’s the lambency of Tillman’s intimate songs. ‘The Palace’ is where you realize how deep a person can fall into themselves. While someone falls into themselves you start feeling out of body. There’s something nearly comedic about hearing, “Last night I wrote a poem. Man, I must have been in the poem zone.” Not everything can be masterfully thought-provoking. That lyric is so pointedly simplistic when framed directly next to ‘Disappointing Diamonds Are the Rarest of Them All.’ Misty drops, “And a love that lasts forever really can’t be that special. Sure we know our roles, and how it’s supposed to go. Does everybody have to be the greatest story ever told?” like it’s an off day. How slovenly the dismantling of Western societies’ expectation of love occurs. I worry all too often that others will never be able to take the passion in normalcy to heart. It’s stunting the ability to be fulfilled. Nothing is like the movies, love is messy, hard, slow, and fast. Sometimes you can be out till 2a.m. and other times you can only stay out until 9p.m. The greatest story ever told could be your own life if it weren’t being compared to the idealistic version someone wrote to be perfect. All that is dropped in a few words as casually as a mid-afternoon yawn. In an accidental ode to Thoreau, the sarcasm is so subtle in his songs, the artistic quality blinds people from the humoresque thread Misty sews with. The irony and complexity of asking a God you don’t believe in for help. Perhaps the commentary is on the strain many religions put on selling God as a ticket to heaven instead of preaching kindness and faith. ‘God’s Favorite Customer’ could be implying how deeply Tillman bought into the church only to outlast the 30-day refund policy, being stuck with faulty promises and the diminishment of reckless dreams. ‘The Songwriter’ is a phantom of a song, it goes through you but to tell you the haunting is worth feeling yourself would be pointless endangerment. Now an ending. ‘We’re Only People (And There’s Not Much Anyone Can Do About That).’ It’s not brazenly memorable or as poignant as songs previous, it’s meaningful albeit apathetic. It encompasses a weakness shared among humans, the desire to be different without even understanding who we are. It’s a spoonful of expired cherry cough syrup that goes down with a hiccup, it hurts because it’s true, and sadly it’s the only medicine left in the cabinet. Choke on it, or hope it eases the cough. I can’t tell you how to take Father John Misty, I’m just reminding you of the doctor’s orders. If songs written in the confines of a hotel room aren’t your thing, life is distracting so check back in somewhere around three years from now and I’ll have something new for you. Remember, none of us are special and that’s wonderful. If we don’t talk soon, find some adventure, or someone that helps you see old things in a new light, go find the poem zone. Germs are on the internet, and all over hotel mattresses.
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There’s always something more enticing about writing in my head then actually writing things down in real life. Maybe that’s because in my head there’s no wrong answer, or too late, or unimportant. Being stuck up there all the time isn’t so blissful either, because everything’s the wrong answer, it’s always too late and every thought feels unimportant. You’d think there’s something to blame for this contradiction of character, it’s not the fault of a certain superhero cinematic universe’s infinite battle or the fact that I’ve only been listening to old albums which are lamely too outdated to share with you. No, it’s just faulty brain chemistry stringing me along hour after hour. If I can’t calm down, it’s my hope that you find some ease reading this. Welcome to earache, open a window and take a deep breath. Other than a daily chemical concoction of melatonin, caffeine, and whatever is in the all the places where dopamine should be, it’s hard to break through anxious drapery It seems like days are flying by faster than I can catch them. I know I’m listening to something nearly ever hour of the day but I couldn’t tell you what I’m hearing. That is, except for one slow-riding, smooth as peanut butter, oddly catching and always enticing song called ‘CR-V’ by Cuco. Not only is it entirely mesmerizing, after you listen to it once you’ll wonder when the day will come when it's not stuck in your head anymore. The CR-V is basically limitless, with its ability to fit all your homies, groceries, as well as housing at least five seats. This blend of Watsky and every song you wish weren’t overplayed every summer it’s legitimately so terrific, clever, and goddamn catchy I’m fully convinced it cannot become overplayed. When people start kicking me out of the car during road trips, now you’ll know what song I played one too many times. For an audible melatonin comes the greatest simultaneously chill and danceable band from recent memory. Rain, neon city lights, and perfectly steeped tea is the only way to encapsulate some of the feelings and aesthetics slenderbodies give off. The rhythmic elation blends beautifully with the sounds of fingers sliding along guitar strings and vocals equivalent to indoor blue lights and whispering in someone’s ear in a loud place. Though I could gush about every song, today I implore you to listen to ‘lucid.’ It’s pulling someone close to dance, a flannel for your shoulders when you get a chill, and feeling safe in the dark. These guys are like Big Data and Joywave and Disclosure and everything you’ve never heard before. More than anything they’re peaceful. I don’t mean like waterfall in an empty forest peaceful or lying completely still before you fall asleep peaceful. No, I mean they’re nonaggressive, they’re not demanding or taxing or tiring. The emotion is raw but not forcing itself on you. The expectation is not to get something out of you but for you to get something out of them. Don’t expect the usual from them and find yourself rewarded with something celestial and fresh. “Let’s take the worst and somehow turn it into the best.” That’s one of the first verses on Jack White’s new album Boarding House Reach. The song in question, ‘Connected By Love’ is long, brutal, and at times painfully honest. Most artists don’t get to that point till the end of the album but Jack White is not most artists. At times it seems those who like him just go with the flow and those who don’t plant themselves in the river while his current moves around them. I love White myself and have from the moments I heard the riffs on Rag and Bone when he was still playing in The White Stripes. To say you love someone is to admit you have issues with this person, but they’re candid and hopefully constructive. I first and foremost admire his work ethic, to work without autotune, confine himself to seemingly impossible limits, listen to his own music on a car radio, or with only headphones so the apartment neighbors won’t be disturbed. Simply making too much work for himself not only because he’s passionate but also because he might go crazy without it. Well, Boarding House Reach is everything Jack White is and all the thoughts that seem to be driving him insane. It’s anything but conventional and at times everything but enjoyable and the reasons behind it are admirable while futile to understand. I listened to this album for the first time on vinyl so the only way I can describe it to you is in its natural order. I’ve started with ‘Connected By Love’ now let’s continue. For a single, it isn’t self-assured, broadly relatable or even generally memorable. The power is in between the lines because the hidden desire is like blunt-force trauma. I don’t like inferring on the experiences or mental health of others, seriously though, White seems depressed. Near the end of the song he cries out, “Forgive me and save me from myself. Don’t forsake me woman, and go and choose somebody else.” I’ve seen talk that the single is dreary, my counter, it should be. Sometimes I worry I expect too much from artists I like when I myself wouldn’t want those expectations to be thrust on me. The album is unlikable because it isn’t expected or conventional. The songs are dreary because they’re written by someone who is dreary, the passion isn’t lacking, it’s sincerely jaded. I could be talking out of my ass and I probably am subconsciously but the biggest problem with the album is White wants to scream out into the void, but the void has been filled with people ready to blast their opinions at him via cannon. This scream into the void can be best exemplified by ‘Why Walk a Dog?’ A satirical psychosis on a man’s best friend. Though not devoid of meaning, there’s a general lack of importance in this organ nocturne. From there flies in ‘Corporation’ which needs no license to take the wheel. The Animal Farm influence falls atop this song like a translucent film. Again despite the driving and pummeling force of layering and guitar scales this song wastes the horsepower on nuance instead of on meaning. ‘Abulia and Akrasia’ becomes one of two poetry interludes, the ending very conclusive and simplistically poignant. It goes quickly and so shall I. ‘Hypermisophoniac’ is pressurized and just waiting to burst, slightly stressful and seductively odd, it takes over as your new favorite for a while. The progression from Blunderbuss and Lazaretto breaks the ice in ‘Ice Station Zebra’ White’s Frankenstein monster of his past works. The allspice of songs from Boarding House Reach packs surprising tempo changes, and some real meaning in a barren nonsensical world. “I’m never gonna go where you want me to go cause I got feelings that you just don’t know.” That line about sums up the entire album, and maybe even Jack White’s entire career, now that meaning’s deeply embedded. Oh good goddamn the tension is about to snap, it’s snapping, it’s snapped, but now it’s been restrung even tighter. There you have ‘Over and Over and Over’ the crown jewel of anxious rock. It’s a more invigorating ‘Another Way to Die’ and altogether more electrifying. It’s also noticeably the introduction of the color brown into Jack’s blue, black, and white world. “Anxiety and I rolling down a mountain over and over.” I know that program all too well. Anxiety gets fuzzy and the existential crises becomes clearer in ‘Everything You’ve Ever Learned.’ Affirmations gone wrong, or right if you’re a pessimist. ‘Respect Commander’ is a welcome break from the bizarre, nearly five minutes of sweet, sweet jazz style riffing and grooving, it’s White’s heaven and angels for a listener’s ear. Interlude two of two, ‘Ezmerelda Steals the Show’ feels convoluted and dragged from the bottom of a garbage disposable. Too harsh? Listen to it for yourself. Another pause for poetry in ‘Get In the Mind Shaft’ beautifully describes a singular moment of making music and then slams the rickety breaks, throwing you out of the windshield into a boat from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory funk track from hell. Alright maybe not from hell but it includes none of White’s talents and instead sounds like a Daft Punk song that feel into a bathtub, got waterlogged and then found its way onto Soundcloud anyway. In the album’s most relatable moment ‘What’s Done is Done’ sparks your interest more than most of the wild noises that have rung in one ear and out the other. Shooting yourself or others is never the answer and if you’re thinking of doing either please seek help. That aside, finding solace in death is nothing to be worried or ashamed of. Life pretty much sucks most of the time and there’s comedy in seeking out a firearm, it’s even funnier if you really didn’t enjoy the album. The finale, an elegant bookend to a looseleaf lightning storm, ‘Humoresque.’ On vinyl, it’s a priceless moment of genius, even digitally it’s brilliant. Why? It showcases White’s gentler side, it’s a bluesy Vince Guaraldi Trio meeting Waylon Jennings track and it’s actually unlike anything he’s done before. The album is a wilderness you’ll need more than patience and commitment to endure. As a whole record it’s plays through without too many skips, on shuffle I’d tell you only half of the album works. I couldn’t tell you to write it off or write it a love letter, something about it is soothing and I’ve fallen asleep to it on more than one occasion. (I only had fever brain on one of those occasions…) You’d be missing out not to give it a try but believe me I understand if you stick with your favorites and recycle the rest. My best advice for Boarding House Reach is to remember fascination, and feelings, we all can’t understand each other perfectly, but we don’t have to shit on each other just for trying. Listen to ‘Over and Over and Over’ and ‘Humoresque’ After the disbelief you may be experiencing after a White out I’m here to bring some ease back into your movements. So is Henry Green. It’s apparent he doesn’t want you stressing out so much. ‘Shift’ is forgiving and calming. I’d like to believe I’m not the only one in need of those things right now. Something about the color green reminds you how earth-shatteringly gorgeous life can be, this song is kind of like that. It would take a hex for you and call to make sure you’re drinking enough water. It’s nurturing if you don’t listen too closely to the heartbreak within the verses. Poetry isn’t usual happy but solace can be found in it nonetheless. Find that solace here too, find it, cling to it, let it consume you, we need you sharp okay? Have some tea and put lotion on, look out for yourself because there’s no guarantee others will do it for you. Remember interludes can be overdone and germs are on the internet. If you want to hear the songs mentioned today you can find them all here |