2019: January 1st

I've been hitting the Calexico pretty hard since Mr. Brown gifted me that Twentieth Anniversary vinyl edition of The Black Light. Their 2001 album Even Sure Things Fall Through still holds its place as my favorite record by the band, opening its sonic maw and swallowing me multiple times yesterday morning, a nice ending to 2018 that should help me segue into a peaceful and creative 2019.

2019, eh? Insert trite colloquialism about how fast the hands of the clock move here.

I finished 2018 reading the eldritch horrors of August Derleth, only to began 2019 reading about the real-life horrors of hatred in Christian Picciolini's autobiography White American Youth, a memoir of a youth spent organizing racial hatred in America and how the author escaped before it was too late.

I can't put this book down. Picciolini's  raw, unpleasant accounts are sociologically fascinating, but also enlightening in a true WTF way, as his accounts of places I know in the city I grew up in pave the way for my own personal realization to the dark underbelly of a burgeoning national hate movement in 90s Southside Chicago. A movement that was happening parallel to my own group of friends and our interest in Chicago punk rock. I didn't know Picciolini, but he was something of a boogey man in my youth. The skinhead thug brother-in-law of a high school friend whose house we partied at pretty much 24/7 Junior year, there was always frightened whisperings that while we filled my friend's two-level home with bong smoke, Picciolini might show up at any moment with a Buick of skinheads bent on kicking our scrawny asses for 'polluting our precious white bodies with drugs from the inner city.' The book and Picciolini's evolution out of the skinhead movement, his formation of the non-profit organization Life After Hate and its dedication to fighting racism, were a total surprise to me; Mr. Brown sent me a copy of the book last March, the first I'd heard Christian's name in twenty-five years.

I've begun and discarded several television shows recently; FX's Legion came highly recommended, but after four over-wrought episodes, ultimately just annoyed me. And the SyFy adaptation of Grant Morrison and Darick Robertson's Happy proved to be the funniest thing I've seen in yeaaaars for two episodes and then just kind of left me uninterested (I may go back to it; it's that funny). Finally K and I went back to Channel Zero: Candle Cove. We started this one before we left for Chicago and then kind of forgot about it. While there's some rough edges to the overall presentation, conceptually Candle Cove is right up my alley, and I'm eager to wrap up this first season and see how good the Anthology series becomes as popularity increases and, reciprocally, so does the show's budget.

Here's a clip of the titular phantom kid's show that runs through the first season storyline of Channel Zero; something about the close-up superimpositions of the character's faces freaks me right the fuck out:



Oh wow, and I almost forgot. Last night I realized for the first time that May 2019 brings another Laird Barron Isaiah Coleridge novel! The new literally made my New Year's Eve! You can pre-order Black Mountain here.

Playlist from 12/31:

Calexico - Even Sure Things Fall Through
Mark Ronson - Version
Perturbator - The Uncanny Valley
Graham Reznick - Robophasia
Iggy Pop - The Idiot
Alice in Chains - Rainier Fog
Anthrax - Persistence of Time
Bohren & Der Club of Gore - Sunset Mission

Card of the year:

Interestingly enough, both K and I received the same card. Spiritually aligned. The big idea here is the saving of money (both pulls of XVII were preceded by Princess of Swords, as if to help direct the reading). To quote from a source, "Make your plans for the future and risk a new beginning in which you set long-term goals."

2018: Monday, December 17th

Saturday night my cousin Charles introduced me to Kevin Morby. It was late, there were a handful of people, all of us speaking passionately about this and that, so I couldn't really hear the music as it dwindled out of my small blu tooth speaker placed behind my parents' basement bar, but Charles' recommendations are always fantastic, even if I'm not always in the right headspace to completely sync with them.

No problem in the 'sync' department this time.

Sunday at Midway Airport I put on Morby's 2016 album Singing Saw and it became my travel album for the day, the 5 1/2 hour musical loop that got me through take off, flight, and departure in a beautifully fleeting hypnogogic trance. Needless to say the album is not only fantastic, but endeared to me now for all time.

Re-acclimating to LaLaLand and what we refer to as 'normal life' because here I don't eat terribly, drink full throttle every night, or dabble in anything beyond the occasional vape. Part of that re-acclimation process was as simple as putting some vinyl the turntable and just chilling the f*&k out. I led the way with a wonderful gift I received from Mr. Brown while I was in:

That's right! The 20th anniversary vinyl edition of Calexico's seminal The Black Light album. I'll be honest - back in the day Mr. Brown was always more into these guys than I was; Even Sure Things Fall Through was the album that hit me the most, with the very Badalamenti opener Sonic Wind virtually assuring my allegiance, and Feast of Wire played a pretty big role in my initial soundtrack upon moving to Los Angeles, but I've often had a hard time finding the right headspace to fit Calexico in on a semi-regular basis. And something about that seems to have changed, as my moods and headspace grow and expand. For almost ten years now I've experienced an increasingly strong connection to Metal in most of its forms (especially the newer, stranger mutations like Blut Aus Nord and The Body) because it's music that helps me write. Often even if I'm in the mood for slower, quieter tunes to listen to while writing it I have to jack the headphone volume because I primarily do the big work in a public place that pipes in music. Also, if I'm lagging, metal kicks my ass in gear. That said, my walk to said writing place is mellow and peaceful, and sometimes of late my morning music leans away from metal, as does my evening, at-home-on-the-record-player listening, so this is perfect. And, The Black Light is a beautiful record, as are the re-issue's linear notes, which are partially (or maybe entirely - they're long and I haven't had a chance to finish them yet) written by Calexico co-founder Joey Burns, so it's a wonderful window into the band and the situations/thoughts/experiences that led to the record's creation.

Playlist from Sunday, 12/16:

Kevin Morby - Singing Saw
Daughters - You Won't Get What You Want
Calexico - The Black Light

Card of the day:

The journey home is over, the journey back to a productive reality begins today.

Other Lives

I just discovered the group Other Lives via Mxdwn's Raymond Float and his twitter. I clicked a link, saw the word "phantasmagorical" and immediately fell in love with what I heard. This track reminds me of Calexico if they had a little more Bela Lugosi and a little less Robert Rodriguez (not a dis - I love Calexico). That's an analogy that only goes so far though; as I move through other material by the band I'm finding they are actually quite unlike anything else that I have heard before. Rituals, the band's new album, just came out on May 4th via Play It Again Sam, so I'm going to have to acquire a copy of that ASAP.