'thee idle blog' or 'how i became so overwhelmed with everything that i shut down completely and did nothing but not really’

Why haven’t I bothered with writing a single music-related entry for nearly the entire summer? As evinced in my Grouper un-review I suffer from seasonal affective disorder during the summertime. Most people identify it as a winter-related disease, but there are a few of us out there (I’ve talked to a handful—we exist, we’re just a bit quiet about it). The truth is that I’ve had so much that I’ve wanted to do to push through the season that I’ve not really done any of it. During this time I’ve decided that writing about music is a bit futile—at least from my perspective. Why should a curmudgeon who hates people and is burned out on going out to live shows and writing about music in general continue to write about music? I’ve had no trouble continuing to assemble my playlists.

I’ve been trying to work on some kind of a memoir about being a completely insular daydreamer who is overwhelmed by everything and spends his days in a dreamlike reverie. It’s also about soldiering on doggedly making music that very few people ever end up hearing or caring about. The scope of it has ballooned to the point where it’s become daunting, overwhelming and thus difficult to sit down and chip away at. It’s a similar mountain to the staggering amount of credit card debt I’ve accrued.

I still buy quite a bit of new music. The only album that I’ve felt it might be necessary to sing the praises of is the new Medicine album (which got delayed by almost a week in the beauracratic maze of the Chicago-area postal service before it reached me). I wanted to write about them mainly because they’re a constantly overlooked band. I’ve also been spending a lot of my time readying the ‘field of flowers’ singles. The second one is available now via bandcamp, for instance, and the first is being pressed at Rainbo Records as we speak.

You could say I’m in the doldrums. Those record mailer shaped packages show up in the mail, I unwrap them and play the limited edition coloured vinyl beauties on my turntable and the hypnotic spin has a tendency to drag me into existential crisis after existential crisis. What’s all of this for, anyway? Why doesn’t anyone give a crap about what I’ve been doing? All of this leads me into the suffocating k-hole of that memoir of a delusional person that I talked about above because I realize that that might be all I can offer the world—the perspective of a permanent and truly isolated lone crazy dreamer.

So much that I expected to have happened by now simply hasn’t at all. I always figured if I stuck with the music thing long enough that people would have no choice but to start to take notice and things would start to take off by now, but it simply hasn’t happened. A lot of my band’s prime years ended up getting bogged down in all kinds of external nonsense drama and once I was finally able to shake the cobwebs away and get all of that taken care of I found that we were almost back at square one. I often go straight to ‘we should’ve toured more’ but I have friends who’ve sacrificed years of their lives on the road who aren’t really in that much better of a position than we are. I also always figured I’d progress in some professional capacity by now, figured if I’d ever wanted to settle down and have kids that that would’ve happened as well, but none of it has. I’m not particularly discontent about where I am. I could use a bit more money, sure, but even millionaires think they could use more money so that’s the type of thought that seems entirely useless. Plus I’ve had more money before and I wasn’t particularly good with it. Every extra penny ends up being pumped into the band and releasing more records, buying beer and records.

This could be because I have another shalloboi record in the can. It’s all mixed and ready to go—I just need the money to master it and put it out (haw haw haw). My world has a tendency to crumble when I finish a record. When I finish a project the initial joy and sense of accomplishment always melts into a deep depression soon afterwards. ‘Great Tyler, you’ve finished another record that only a handful of people will ever actually hear or buy. Now I guess you’re going to have to start another one and do that forever and ever. Good stuff.’ I guess I crave outside validation more than I care to admit.

I will probably write about the new Medicine record, though. They are a band that has been overlooked for more than two decades now and they deserve something written about their first new record as a band in 18 years. That said, I have a saved entry about the newest Primal Scream record that has just been sitting as an empty saved entry.

There’s a ‘death to summer’ playlist coming up within the week. So stay tuned. Onward and upward.

diary 7.26.13- best of the boots

Diary 7.26.13- best of the boots by Shalloboi on Mixcloud

these are my favourite bootleg live recordings at the moment. since it's been such a light show year for me i figured this might work as a summer playlist. august will be back to the normal format. this playlist is culled from my absurd collection of live recordings- there are soundboard, livestream and audience sourced songs here.

song- artist- album

1. open- the cure- kilburn 1992 live broadcast
2. especially me- low- fitzgerald theater in minneapolis 2013
3. last horse on the sand- dirty three- npr tiny desktop concert
4. sugarcube- yo la tengo- matador rarities compilation
5. dsharpg- sharon van etten- brighton music hall 2011
6. around my smile- hope sandoval & the warm inventions- chicago lakeshore theater 2009
7. silver soul- beach house- coachella 2013
8. spring hall convert- deerhunter- washington dc 9:30 club 2010
9. oh baby- spiritualized- toronto opera house 2003
10. mover- the verve- hultsfred festival 1994
11. you never should- my bloody valentine- 'loom' live in vancouver 1992
12. half full glass of wine- tame impala- coachella 2013
13. thursday's radiation- the warlocks- live promo video 2005
14. look on down from the bridge- mazzy star- union chapel 2000

photo set: sharon van etten and speck mountain at pritzker pavilion 6.3.13

I meant to write about this show but never did since I've already written a delirious, gushing review about Sharon Van Etten. I finally took some decent pictures of a live act, though, which I think is worth sharing. Please don't steal my shit without asking.

Speck Mountain

timely arrival: grouper- 'the man who died in his boat'

I’m not sure what it is about the new Grouper record, but it couldn’t possibly have arrived in my life at a better time. Summer is a very insular and isolated time for me - I have a tendency to stay in by myself as much as I can. I find crowds and heat difficult to cope with; the fact that I’m in the vast minority in this preference only adds to the isolation factor. This summer depression that I’ve had for about as long as I can remember (as a child I spent my summers in my room drawing at my desk) makes ‘The Man Who Died in His Boat’ the perfect summer record for me. The tracks are spare, drenched in echo and reverb and usually amount to nothing more than Liz Harris’ voice and guitar. The lyrics are hazy, impressionistic and vague and often incomprehensible (she often layers two voices over each other singing different phrases) but when they are clearly audible the themes of isolation and alienation are crystal clear.

Every year there’s a song that winds up becoming my theme song and this year (or at least this summer) it’s ‘Living Room.’ ‘It is getting harder and harder to fake/Acting like everything is in its place’ is pretty much where I’m at right now. Most people have this feeling in fleeting moments and it soon passes. I almost never leave that state of mind in the summer - I often feel like talking to absolutely no one because I simply don’t have the energy to put on a brave face and act like everything’s great when I have such tremendous difficulty coping with nearly every aspect of the summer. I think this year I’ve been able to get to the heart of it and realize that it’s the fact that it’s a season where every time you leave your house you are bombarded relentlessly with the overwhelming. The sun is in your eyes, the heat is suffocating, the traffic on the streets is merciless and unrelenting, seemingly around every corner there are giant crowds of people locked into their own ego-driven worlds, the overbearing necessity of forced social interaction in such a scene. The only way to avoid it is to not leave your house, which is, of course, not an option. For someone who tries to observe and take things in at their own pace trying to find something to latch onto, so much overstimulation can drive me into an alienated downward spiral.

What I find so magnetic about introspective music in general is that it seems that its creators are able to articulate these feelings and distill them into their music. This is something I feel like I do well in my own music. Introspection is something that people don’t seem to have the time or patience for these days, which makes my admiration for people who commit themselves to it deeper. The best introspective music is the type that creates its own bathysphere where the artist can communicate their deepest, darkest and most revelatory thoughts in the most clear and distinct way that they can and Grouper’s music does this in spades. Even the dense, seemingly formless drones (i.e. ‘6’ and ‘STS’) on the record add to the atmosphere of isolation and loneliness that fills the record. While it seems like the music is holding you at a distance with a haze of effects the record has a clarity of emotion that is concise and incredibly vivid.

‘The Man Who Died in His Boat’ was, surprisingly, a set of songs that Harris had left over from material she was working on while making ‘Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill.’ While the two records bear a resemblance to each other in aesthetics, they still seem distinct. ‘The Man Who Died in His Boat’ seems to rely more on raw emotion than atmosphere and flow which is what gives ‘Dragging a Dead Deer Up a Hill’ its power (the tracks are cross-faded and arranged in such a way that makes it more of an extended and slowly evolving whole rather than a set of individual songs). The songs themselves are what drive things along on ‘The Man Who Died in his Boat.’ It’s a record that puts Harris in an area where she is straddling the role of singer-songwriter and ambient artist. Jessica Bailiff is a good parallel in terms of this balance, but the two couldn’t possibly sound more different. What they have in common is a gift for balancing solid songwriting with murky atmosphere. This enhances the emotional impact of their music by the fact that they are able to build entire environments for their songs to live and breathe in. Such a pursuit is not something that’s going to win an artist mainstream attention which further liberates them to indulge themselves further making them clearer communicators of their own vision.

While it’s true that some of these songs are dark they are also filled with beautiful, pure melodies. All of the darkness is filled with some kind of hope and a lot of these songs are able to transcend their own sadness. Even the haunting, delayed piano notes of ‘Vanishing Point’ have a playfulness and innocence to them, ‘Being Her Shadow’ is tempered with turns of aching beauty. While this record would fit perfectly with other pre-dawn listening albums I’ve found I can listen to it at almost any time or any place. It works best when I’m staying up late indulging in a little winter dreaming and disappearing in a vortex of nostalgia. It’s isolated music that is the best comfort for someone who has a tendency to feel lonely in a crowded room. There aren’t many of us, but we’re out there.

diary 6.26.13- ambient summer

Diary 6.26.13- ambient summer by Shalloboi on Mixcloud

Getting this one in just under the wire. This diary playlist has taken on three different lives so far. This particular version was put together in an almost free-association stream of consciousness way. I've been listening to a lot of gloomy and introspective folk and ambient music lately, so that's where I'm at sadly. If you want to hear the fun garagey version of one of my diary playlists I suggest 'summer of hate' from june of 2011. Anyway, here's my ambient summer mix.

song- artist- album

1. i believe in you- talk talk- 'spirit of eden'
2. have you seen- sharon van etten- 'because i was in love'
3. there is a balm in gilead- thee oh sees- 'there is a balm in gilead' flexi
4. hearts mend- saltland- 'i thought it was us but it was all of us'
5. decapitation blues (redux)- boduf songs- boduf songs/jessica bailiff split 7"
6. goodnight- jessica bailiff- 'at the down-turned jagged edge of the sky'
7. dreams- jessica pratt- 'jp'
8. jacquard causeway- boards of canada- 'tomorrow's harvest'
9. river of pain- primal scream- 'more light'
10. the seer returns- swans- 'the seer'
11. fragile- the fauns- 'fragile' 12"
12. ex mass- implodes- 'recurring dream'
13. the man who died in his boat- grouper- 'the man who died in his boat'
14. relative hysteria- mogwai- 'les revenants' soundtrack

diary 5.17.13- why don't you lose yourself

Diary 5.17.13- why don't you lose yourself by Shalloboi on Mixcloud

birthday diary playlist. all vinyl rips. finally, a good birthday to remember- the past few have all been a bit rough.

song- artist- album

1. it is not meant to be- tame impala- 'innerspeaker'
2. i was there- the war on drugs- 'slave ambient'
3. make them dinner at our shoes- white fence- 'cyclops reap'
4. isolation- the warlocks- 'red camera' 7"
5. 23- blonde redhead- '23'
6. so blue- low- 'the invisible way'
7. a night like this- the cure- 'show'
8. turmoil- lucrecia dalt- 'commotus'
9. ants- the mallard- 'yes on blood'
10. humans be swayed- thee oh sees- 'moon sick' EP
11. only tomorrow- my bloody valentine- 'm b v'
12. elimination blues- primal scream- 'more light'
13. a man called sun- the verve- s/t EP
14. a wake for the minotaur- shearwater with sharon van etten- 'stop dragging my heart around' 7"
15. gust- georgiana starlington- 'paper moon'
16. lose yourself- black rebel motorcycle club- 'specter at the feast'
17. what we talk about- hookworms- 'pearl mystic'

review: black rebel motorcycle at the vic- 5.17.13

I’ve never been a huge Black Rebel Motorcycle Club obsessive—I ended up going to see them at the Vic on a bit of a lark. It seemed like the time was right to finally catch them live—‘Specter at the Feast’ is the best record they’ve released in years, the Vic is the best venue in town for bands at the post-Metro level plus their stop in town fell on my birthday. My birthday is historically a collision of amazingly awful circumstances—both times I’ve been fired were within a week of my birthday (my 32nd birthday was spent applying for unemployment before heading to Hot Doug’s), I’ve always had to work on the day when I’ve been employed and it’s always been laughable how awful people end up treating me while I’m there (it’s almost like they know), my Uncle passed away around the time of my 8th or 9th birthday requiring my parents to be out of town until the week afterward, etc. I’m sure the idea is clear—it’s almost always comically awful. I’ve come to expect it to be that way. This year I tried an experiment—since I was employed at a job I liked quite a bit for the first time in at least two years I decided that if I was going to have a good birthday I’d have to take it by force so I requested it off and the day after so that I could do whatever I wanted without worry of becoming a victim of circumstance. Also, my cousin was getting married in California on the 18th and my finances prevented me from going. This to me meant that enjoying my birthday was now an obligation. The experiment ended up succeeding.

Besides it being my birthday this show was a bit of a last hurrah. I’ve been going to shows since I was 16 and over the past few years I’ve become crotchety, curmudgeonly and misanthropic at a lot of the shows I end up making the effort to attend. As I’ve gone into detail in countless entries on this blog being in a giant group of people can be difficult for me and can often overshadow my enjoyment of the music. I’m going to try not to dwell on the awful douche-baggy lame crowd at the Vic. Here’s what I will say—parody of your standard annoying rock concert crowd—thousands of drunk people talking loudly over the music they paid $25 to chit-chat through while snapping pictures, texting, tweeting and instagramming the night away. Were any of them actually enjoying the fact that BRMC sounded fantastic that night and put on one hell of a show?! I don’t know, but it definitely wasn’t lost on me.

‘Specter at the Feast’ is thematically tied together by the passing of Michael Been, father of bassist Robert Turner. It’s anthemic, emotional, sweeping and intense. The only points where it dips in quality are where it deviates from its thematic core. Turner’s songwriting shines brighter than it ever has before and, to me, its emotional punch and gravitas makes it a notable release among the already overwhelming amount of great music that’s come out this year. It’s an incredibly wounded and heartfelt record in these apathetic, synthetic times where people seem to be dreaming their lives away in the glow of their fancy phones and digital lives. The most common criticism I’ve heard of the record? That it’s too cheesy. Nope. Not buying it, friends. If anyone would call foul for emotional cheese it’d be me and ‘Specter at the Feast’ seems beautifully heartfelt, brave and admirable to me.

The night got off to a good start with ‘Let the Day Begin,’ the impassioned cover of Been’s band the Call. The band tear through this song with a fire that is increasingly rare both live and on record. From there they mixed in a lot of older tracks with the rockier tracks from ‘Specter at the Feast’—‘Howl,’ ‘Baby 81,’ ‘Beat the Devil’s Tattoo’ and the self-titled debut. ‘Red Eyes and Tears’ got the biggest cheers from the crowd. People seemed to be enjoying themselves. Then Turner put on an acoustic guitar and talked about how he’s always enjoyed playing in Chicago and then announced a song that they don’t normally play. It was a beautiful and sad song and it was quiet, so naturally the crowd talked through the whole thing. Very loudly. I think it might have been ‘Mercy.’ It was difficult to make out the song over people’s talking. Next, Peter Hayes came out with an acoustic guitar and played ‘Complicated Situation’ (again tough to identify over the chatter) by himself and again people talked through the whole thing incredibly loudly. From there the audience was kind of lost. The band started the process of ramping back up the ferocity starting with ‘Fire Walker’ and ‘Returning’ (another beautiful and moving moment that people talked through incredibly loudly). It took ‘In Like the Rose’ to get people to finally shut up, which lead up to ‘Six Barreled Shotgun,’ ‘White Palms’ and the main set-ender ‘Spread Your Love.’ By then I was so sick of the crowd that I left despite the fact that I knew that an encore would promise ‘Sell It’ and ‘Lose Yourself,’ which is my favourite track on ‘Specter At the Feast.’ I couldn’t bear the idea of listening to a disrespectful douchey crowd talking loudly through a beautiful, moving song that I love about a son saying goodbye to his father forever (I’d imagine it’s a difficult song for Turner to perform every night). It just wasn’t going to happen. Just typing this makes me so angry I can’t even think straight—I could only imagine how I would’ve felt had I stuck around for the reality of it.

All in all, despite how angry I was when I left the show, I was impressed by the band’s professionalism. They put on a great show and constructed a setlist that flowed nicely—it had a similar feel to a Cure setlist which to me meant that they’ve proven themselves to be more than the one-trick pony they’re so often written off as. They didn’t play all of my favourites (I would’ve loved to have heard ‘Awake’ for example) but songs I had not been that amazed by made more sense in a live context. Sometimes this can be better than when a band plays every song you’re expecting. I also loved their bonkers light show, the fact that they lugged an upright piano around on this tour as well as a huge pile of amps. I’d also never noticed how much of the melodic colour in their songs is supplied by Turner, who has an impressively unorthodox approach to playing the bass.