Fyodor Dostoevsky (via kikenai88)
I got 99 problems, but Dostoevsky ain’t one?
Fyodor Dostoevsky (via kikenai88)
I got 99 problems, but Dostoevsky ain’t one?
Track: The Cloud-Likeness
Written by: Mustafa Ziyaland
Read by: Shara Worden
Music by: Rob Moose
Ooh. I always can appreciate a quality speaking voice.
On a hike today, I stopped by a shelter covered in graffiti from eras past. It was mostly the usual tripe, but a couple of entries caught my eye because they had apparently been altered in the time since they were set down. They were, as follows (additions are bolded):
An impressive set by a gifted cellist. I loves me some cello.
…writing a paper about storytellers in pre-industrial cultures, and stopping myself after every sentence from making “oral transmission” jokes.
Doesn’t really have the same ring, does it?
I feel like that would be a fabulous name for a band leader: Johnny Fiercely and the Mass Executions or something like that.
Title: From the Mouth of Gabriel
Artist: Sufjan Stevens
Album: All Delighted People EP
Composer: Sufjan Stevens
Genre: Alternative/Experimental
This may be my favorite song of all time. I tried to explain why in a few sentences, but found that I could not condense an explanation in so little space. So here is my full-length description of what “From the Mouth of Gabriel” means to me.
(I know it’s kind of corny. Apologies all ‘round.)
The song begins simply enough. There is a degree of understatement, of justifiable hesitation underscored by an undeniable and bittersweet urgency. Sufjan’s voice is a fragile thread, a tight rope and I know that I have to tread carefully because it would be so, so easy to tumble to my death.
Then the music picks up in an unearthly microcosm of lights and sounds. I embrace it and before I know what’s happening, I fall, but it isn’t the downward plunge I was dreading. Rather, it is ascension, an elevation of sorts, and all at once sadness and despair are transmuted through some strange alchemy into a single moment of fleeting, fatal beauty which is almost too perfect too exist. I burst through the upper limits of the atmosphere and find myself in a space above the world.
It is then that realize that I am not alone. That I will never be alone, that I am merely one soul in an endless procession, a ribbon of light which stretches back to the beginning as well as forward, into perpetuity. But then, as the object of the song plummets from an open bedroom window, I find myself falling once again and this time there is no one and nothing to catch me. The firmament has vanished wholly and all that remains is the whispered promise that it wasn’t a dream – that there is beauty left to be discovered even in the most senseless tragedy. Then I know that things are going to be all right.
I recognize that this isn’t a universal experience. That some might not see any beauty at all in a tune which breaks my heart a little every time I hear it. That’s fine. My maudlin ramblings in reaction to a 4 minute song are almost certainly uncalled for, and I am the first to admit that I tend to wax poetic more than is healthy.
Still, there’s “the Aleph Room” (a reference to a short story by Jorge Luis Borges), there’s the ubiquitous “mess” which encroaches on many songs in Sufjan Steven’s oeuvre and there is that heartrending plea to be not afraid of loneliness, that it is merely “some refugee, beside itself”. Together, the music, lyrics and vocals synergize to create something strangely transcendental.
The other tracks on the album are nothing at which to scoff. “All Delighted People” and “Heirloom” are also marvelous tracks to begin with. But something about “Gabriel” touches me in a way like no other song I’ve ever heard.
Doesn’t really have the same ring, does it?
Perhaps you haven’t heard of the Moth. It is, in essence, a stage upon which people can tell their stories, whether those stories are humorous, tragic, poignant or absurd. They run the gamut from tales of romance, to travel stories - the only connecting thread is that all they are all taken from real life.
This particular episode is one of my all-time favorites. It features (respectively) one of the funniest and one of the saddest stories I’ve ever heard. In the first section, Margot Leitman relates how when she was in elementary school, she submitted a personal’s ad with hilarious results. In the second, Vikki Kelleher describes the final moment’s of her father’s life after she and her family decided to pull the plug.
Title: Fanfare
Artist: Vincent Minor
Album: Born In The Wrong Era
Composer: Vincent Minor
Genre: Pop/Cabaret
I don’t know why I find this tune so damn charming. Give it a listen, won’t you?
And for comparison, Bulat Okudzhava performs “The Prayer of Francois Villon” (or Молитва Франсуа Вийона, if you’re Cyrillically inclined.
So one time, there was this guy named Jim. Jim had a sister named Jenny. Their parents died in a horrible cliché so Jim was responsible for taking care of Jenny. One day, Jenny was out taking a walk. She should have been doing her homework, but she decided that she would rather be an obvious symbol for the carefree days of youth. Problem is, she wasn’t watching where she was going and she tripped and fell into a well. A passing bicyclist told Jim what had happened, and Jim was pretty surprised because you don’t see a lot of wells these days.
Jim tried to help his sister. He lowered down his video game controller, but Jenny’s fingers slipped right off it. Next he lowered down his Pokémon DVDs, but she slipped again. Same with his manga collection. “Try using an object that better represents maturity and a relinquishing of childhood pursuits,” suggested Jenny. A Sasquatch overheard the conversation and told Jim that only a magic piece of paper could rescue the girl from the well. Jim asked the Sasquatch how he could get the paper, and the Sasquatch told him to catch a bus downtown.. “Downtown?” asked Jim. “That’s so distant and unknown, it might as well be a stand-in for the underworld.” But Jim wanted to get Jenny out of that well so he caught the 113 to Lynnwood, then transferred to the 511.
When he got downtown, Jim met another Sasquatch who was the brother of the first one. Jim asked the Sasquatch where he could find the piece of paper he was looking for, and the Sasquatch told him he would have to sit in a classroom for four long years. It sounded really boring to Jim. The second Sasquatch gave Jim a letter of recommendation and told him to give it to his brother who guarded the classroom, keeping out slackers. Jim kept going and until he saw the third Sasquatch. Jim said that he wanted a magic piece of paper. Then he gave the Sasquatch the letter of recommendation. “Okay,” said the Sasquatch. “But you’ll have to sit in a classroom for four years. You can’t go outside or anything. Even if the weather is really nice.” Jim said he understood.
Sitting down in the classroom, Jim waited. It wasn’t easy. There were evil imps which pestered him constantly. Outside the window, he could see kids playing Frisbee, taunting him to come outside and join them, but he knew that if got up from his chair, he would never get his piece of paper. When four years had passed, Jim knew that the end was in sight. He grew tired then, and fell asleep at his desk. Just then, a six-headed Sasquatch burst into the classroom. Jim battled it and it was extremely epic and would be described in greater detail were this some other narrative form. “That was an obvious metaphor for academic challenge,” said Jim. Finally, the oldest Sasquatch brother gave Jim the magic paper as well as a pair of hip new glasses. “You look older in glasses,” said the Sasquatch. “Almost as if they represented your acceptance into the culture of adulthood. Also, I’m going to stop infantilizing your name, James.”
James returned home, where his sister was waiting for him in the mysterious well. “I thought that by now you’d have drowned already,” James thought. “After all, I was gone a really long time. Whatever.” James lowered the paper into the well, and Jenny tried to grab onto it. However, the ink from the paper got all over Jenny’s skin, and because it was magic ink, it made her smaller and smaller until she looked just like a little kid. “I think I’m supposed to represent new life and opportunities,” said Jenny. “Quit your yapping and get out of this well,” said James. “You’re still pretty heavy.”
As soon as Jenny set foot on solid ground, she started reminding James that investing in a new generation is a common alternative to trying to reclaim one’s lost youth. “It’s a good thing we’re brother and sister,” laughed Jenny. “Yeah,” James replied. “Otherwise, I’d probably try and marry you or something, even though you look like a little kid. That’d be creepy.” James married the youngest Sasquatch brother instead, because heteronormativity is so 17th century.
I was invited to the wedding, and I made a toast. They applauded for me, but I didn’t hear it because I was wearing earplugs.
Title: Holocaust of Giants
Artist: Rasputina
Album: Sister Kinderhook
Composer: Melora Creager
Genre: Goth Rock
When I was nine years old, way back in Ohio
The hired man was digging up a well on my father’s land
He found a fossil, then
In no particular order:
Okay. You now know everything about me there is to know.
Title: The Only Tune: III. The Only Tune
Artist: Nico Muhly, Nadia Sirota, Ben Frost, Monika Abendroth & Sam Amidon
Album: Mothertongue
Composer: Nico Muhly/Traditional
Genre: Alternative/Chamber
…but ‘74’ is such an ugly number of posts to have.
“How Dare You” is especially fun.