soundtracks for a nonexistent past
nostalgia around my college years doesn’t appear so frequently and with force as it used to. now it’s more an odd matter of ahistoric memory through sound. music that i hadn’t heard until after college gets transposed onto places and scenes from my past, like i’m laying down a soundtrack across time. or maybe more accurately, it’s wishful thinking: it’s music that i associate with aesthetics, places, and people that i wish i had known or been immersed in when i was younger — nostalgia for memories that never existed for me.
i wish i had been at the greek theater in berkeley for this, if only because it would have been so apt:
watching and wishing this, though, i remember events that actually are part of my fabric: lots of events at the greek — common, ozomatli, pep rallies (!), graduation, and hearing/watching this under california stars:
for something
(i was there!)
odd spaces, dreamy faces
more adventures in live music consumption this week.
a show in a house:
too close quarters for two drums sets and some loud guitars. mostly interesting sounds to sway and bob to, or perhaps just stand in reverie to, as a cap to a somewhat stressful long weekend. kids in tight pants and stylish coats.
a show in a campus cafeteria:
harsh lighting, low ceilings and speckle-tiled floors. a mix of curious and apathetic undergrads, parents with their adolescent kids, indie poppers, indie pop americana enthusiasts. sitting on the tops of booth seats for a better view, but getting nothing. unfortunately placed columns, which, in combination with the ceilings, gave one the feeling of being gradually squished from all sides. the headliner more satisfying than i expected once i acclimated to the difference in vocals from the recording. an impressive, dream-like combination of drums and piano.
—
it was menomona, the cafeteria band with the pretty piano and drum combination, which lent me my second impression of portland (the first delivered via an article i came across that praised portland’s liveability. the accompanying photo was an evening shot of a bridge and what i think i recognize to be the willlamette river. and for the next few years in college i dreamt of moving to a city i thought was a small, condensed town with maybe a bridge or two, housing overlooking a riverfront, and a giant independent bookstore. i imagined a lot of pavement, which, in retrospect, i’m not sure why it would appeal to me.). this second impression i gleaned specifically from menomena’s video for “cough coughing.” when i watched it three or four years ago, it filled in my vision of portland with lush greenery the article had neglected to mention, single-family homes among evergreens, and a sense of frolicsome motion on sunny summer days.
interface explosion
the last two nights (or last week, even, if practices count) have overloaded my sociability circuits.
two fora, two audiences with different cultural narratives, rationalities, and operating assumptions.
1.
if PCN had been a big part of my college life and if the scale of that extravaganza had been 1/8 what it was, i imagine it would have been like the final show put on by my tagalog class: numerous planning sessions; power-infused leaders of the pack who are Seriously Serious (which i don’t mind — someone has to lead, and it won’t be me); hours spent at practice, half of which entail most of us sitting around; the catharsis of the performance itself. and cheesy jokes. many cheesy jokes about filipino-ness revolving around puns and mispronunciation (for which i admit i’m a sucker — here, some validation of my filipino-ness).
this is to say, i’m still OK with not having been in PCN. but i see how such things can cement a community of filipino folks on campus. the affair requires interactions structured by some hierarchy and delegation of labor, but it’s all organic enough so that one feels an attachment to the final product and the people who share it.
2.
last night multo/A and i played at jaime and neil’s (of world history) apartment-warming party. redbear, blanket truth, craig salt peters, and (eventually) world history also played. it was lovely hearing everyone’s music, and being heard by a small group of listeners in an intimate space. j and n’s place is cozy and well decorated, to boot.
since i’m relatively new to playing and taking in music this way, i was both charmed by and jittery about it all. music and musicians for me have been off in the distance; i go to shows and, whether the show is large or small, make myself inconspicuous and my ears and eyes all-enveloping. my mouth doesn’t usually get any exercise at these things. the imperative to interact is something to get used to, maybe. the setting seems like an ideal way to really listen to music, to listen and appreciate carefully, to let music-makers know they’re loved.
j and n were gracious hosts. i hope their apartment has been warmed accordingly.
—
for now, back to being a recluse. it’s that time of the quarter — for grading, reading, writing, and otherwise shutting myself off from the outside, save for those trips to the coffee shop or gym, at which i can pretend to interact with people by virtue of being around so damn many of them.
scrabbel is looking to be my soundtrack for the end of the quarter. file them/him under Things I Wish I’d Done/Heard/Seen While I Was Living In The Bay Area. that’s far too long for a blog category.
spoon and lohan together at last
oddness last night at the annex for the smoosh and aqueduct show. smoosh, tween-aged rockers that they are, playing more interesting music than headliner aqueduct. really! the drummer’s pretty darn good. said A, “it’s like spoon meets lindsay lohan.” me: “woah. that just does not compute.” during aqueduct’s set, the ladies of smoosh ran around the annex as if playing a game of tag, which after awhile did seem like more fun than sitting through aqueduct. i can’t find sample lyrics to post, but trust me when i say that they are gems of horror.
just weird. seattle, what music are you releasing into the world?