Tag: music

I’ve taken to the banjo on weeknights, after all the hustle of planning and writing and keeping things organized. I had my doubts when I first picked it up, it being a more expensive instrument than I anticipated, but I needed something. My time alone was weighing on me and I knew I couldn’t keep on with just the thoughts in my head. So I found a music shop up the street a ways and I looked at the banjos. They had four of them: one backless, three with wooden backs for resonance. “If you’ll be playing with a group,” said the kid at the store. His receding hairline was much higher than mine. “Nah,” I told him. “Just want something nice to play music with.” And I bought it. Early birthday and Christmas present to myself. Something rational.

When I bring it out I don’t play any particular thing. I’m still learning this tabs business. It’s just picking at the strings, tuning this way and that, trying to remember my lessons on notes and scales. Do re mi fa so la ti do, you know. “Moonlight Sonata” is my musical fantasy, resting in the recesses for as long as I can remember. I wasn’t ever a piano man. Didn’t think I could do on a piano what I always knew I’d do with a flute or a stringed instrument. So now I take that banjo and sit in that big padded rocking chair and try to forget for a bit, which is a funny thing because anytime I get to playing music or singing on my own, the real kind, it breaks me up. I don’t know what real musicians feel—or if the ones talking about soul and heartbreak and all are full of shit—but there’s something in that twang of a string and the steady dying of its sound that just really breaks me up. One of the thoughts I’ve had is that if I ever get good enough on the thing I might write songs for people I never get around to being real in touch with. No other words or anything, just instruction to sit down or click a link and please don’t mind if it’s just a bit rough. I’ve been learning something new and I thought I’d share.

I’ve taken to the banjo on weeknights, after all the hustle of planning and writing and keeping things organized. I had my doubts when I first picked it up, it being a more expensive instrument than I anticipated, but I needed something. My time alone was weighing on me and I knew I couldn’t keep on with just the thoughts in my head. So I found a music shop up the street a ways and I looked at the banjos. They had four of them: one backless, three with wooden backs for resonance. “If you’ll be playing with a group,” said the kid at the store. His receding hairline was much higher than mine. “Nah,” I told him. “Just want something nice to play music with.” And I bought it. Early birthday and Christmas present to myself. Something rational.

When I bring it out I don’t play any particular thing. I’m still learning this tabs business. It’s just picking at the strings, tuning this way and that, trying to remember my lessons on notes and scales. Do re mi fa so la ti do, you know. “Moonlight Sonata” is my musical fantasy, resting in the recesses for as long as I can remember. I wasn’t ever a piano man. Didn’t think I could do on a piano what I always knew I’d do with a flute or a stringed instrument. So now I take that banjo and sit in that big padded rocking chair and try to forget for a bit, which is a funny thing because anytime I get to playing music or singing on my own, the real kind, it breaks me up. I don’t know what real musicians feel—or if the ones talking about soul and heartbreak and all are full of shit—but there’s something in that twang of a string and the steady dying of its sound that just really breaks me up. One of the thoughts I’ve had is that if I ever get good enough on the thing I might write songs for people I never get around to being real in touch with. No other words or anything, just instruction to sit down or click a link and please don’t mind if it’s just a bit rough. I’ve been learning something new and I thought I’d share.

Metallica

I developed an appreciation for all of their earlier albums, but it seems to me that they hit a sweet spot in ‘89. I was 7 at the time and couldn’t have cared less about this music they called heavy metal. In kindergarten I suppose, a naive kid like most others if they were in a good place. Sometimes I get the notion to travel back in time and hand myself some album or another. “Save it.” For what, exactly? Hell if know. Never mind that I’d be some bearded guy approaching a kindergartner with a Metallica cassette. But if I’d listened to the music at that point in time, even just a song, who knows what might have happened. I might not be here now, writing this. When I think of it that way I dismiss the fantasy and return to where I am. Focus. Listen.

Metallica

I developed an appreciation for all of their earlier albums, but it seems to me that they hit a sweet spot in ‘89. I was 7 at the time and couldn’t have cared less about this music they called heavy metal. In kindergarten I suppose, a naive kid like most others if they were in a good place. Sometimes I get the notion to travel back in time and hand myself some album or another. “Save it.” For what, exactly? Hell if know. Never mind that I’d be some bearded guy approaching a kindergartner with a Metallica cassette. But if I’d listened to the music at that point in time, even just a song, who knows what might have happened. I might not be here now, writing this. When I think of it that way I dismiss the fantasy and return to where I am. Focus. Listen.

Alleluia

Alleluia

O virga mediatrix

sancta viscera tua mortem
superaverunt,
et venter tuus omnes
creaturas illuminavit
in pulchro flore de
suavissima integritate
clausi pudoris tui orto.

Alleluia.

Hildegard of Bingen: Alleluia, O virga mediatrix

—-

Our church was across from the train tracks and park on Florence Ave., a few blocks away from Market St. and Inglewood High School. We couldn’t go anywhere without driving by it. Our folks would do the cross thing every time. It was a perfectly white building for most of its history and then got switched to brown a few years before I left. That amuses me. The Jesus statue inside is still immaculate, though, as is the one of his Mother holding him when he was a baby. His wounds are probably freshened up with a coat of paint for Easter.

Alleluia

Alleluia

O virga mediatrix

sancta viscera tua mortem
superaverunt,
et venter tuus omnes
creaturas illuminavit
in pulchro flore de
suavissima integritate
clausi pudoris tui orto.

Alleluia.

Hildegard of Bingen: Alleluia, O virga mediatrix

—-

Our church was across from the train tracks and park on Florence Ave., a few blocks away from Market St. and Inglewood High School. We couldn’t go anywhere without driving by it. Our folks would do the cross thing every time. It was a perfectly white building for most of its history and then got switched to brown a few years before I left. That amuses me. The Jesus statue inside is still immaculate, though, as is the one of his Mother holding him when he was a baby. His wounds are probably freshened up with a coat of paint for Easter.

first orgasm

There are not many songs, or singers for that matter, that affect me emotionally. In fact I pride myself on not being one of the weak ones that weep while watching a poignant film or crack at the sound of a beautiful melody. It does not matter how apt or resonant the music is, I simply will not let it happen.

So when I say that “first orgasm” as sung by Amanda Palmer and performed by The Dresden Dolls reaches me to the core of my being then you may just grasp how much I dig it. It means this song, the words coming from Palmer’s voice and the heart-wrenching piano accompaniment, all combine into such a powerful tune that an average uncouth guy in his mid twenties verging on the edge of fratbrodom is left in awe every time the song plays. It’s as if I remain frozen in time, in space, and all that exists around me ceases to be. Listening to this song is, in fact, a special occasion, and I am glad that such a song never makes it to the public airwaves because I shudder to think what would happen if I should be struck by a “first orgasm” attack on the public roadways. No mailbox or parked car would be safe.

Overly dramatic description of my own experiences with the song aside, it really is a great listen. Palmer’s voice is steady and unbelievably beautiful, and she certainly holds her notes well. However, it’s the moments where the voice wavers that get to me. In those moments she does more than sing. She conveys the hard lament of a persona that experiences the sexual nirvana of the lonely. The song begins very serenely, with the woman describing her morning routine and describing what she sees as she sits at her computer. During the fun she wanders off and decides that a little relief is in order, and in this song it is exactly that: relief. A momentary distraction, a tiny sneeze… another part of the routine. Not quite the great and wondrous experience spoken of by some and hoped for by many more, and that is perhaps why the words in the song resonated so strongly. Never before had I considered that the act of masturbation is merely part of a routine, something to get out of the way so that I may continue with the next item on the to-do list. Palmer expresses the notion well in this song and complements the message with the beauty of her singing and ivory tinkling. As she climaxes so does the music, becoming more dramatic to keep in step with the real highlight of the piece which is Palmer’s rousing vocals, until at last she peaks and begins the somber downslide, declaring that other people only complicate things. She can take of it herself. If only that were true…

first orgasm

it is a thursday
i get up early
it is a challenge
i’m usually lazy

i make some coffee
I eat some rice chex
and then i sit down
to check my inbox

i only read a word or two
i stare across the street and see the churches and the blue

the first orgasm of the morning
is cold and hard as hell
there won’t be any second coming
as far as i can tell

i arch my back cause
i’m very close now
it’s very cold here
by the window

there are some school kids
yelling and running
i barely notice
that i am cumming

the first orgasm of the morning
is like a fire drill
it’s nice to have a little warning
but not enjoyable

i am too busy to have friends
a lover would just complicate my plans
so i will never look for love again
i’m taking matters into my own hands

i think i could last at least a week without someone to hold me
i think i could last at least a week without someone to hold me
won’t you hold me?

copyright 2005 amanda palmer

http://www.dresdendolls.com/downloads_n_lyrics/lyrics/firstorgasm.htm

Time taken to find and purchase the song when I realized I needed to listen to it right now: 58 seconds. Number of times “first orgasm” played during the sporadic writing of this: 46.
Were you expecting a juicy story about the first coming? Well, I’ll leave that to you.

first orgasm

There are not many songs, or singers for that matter, that affect me emotionally. In fact I pride myself on not being one of the weak ones that weep while watching a poignant film or crack at the sound of a beautiful melody. It does not matter how apt or resonant the music is, I simply will not let it happen.

So when I say that “first orgasm” as sung by Amanda Palmer and performed by The Dresden Dolls reaches me to the core of my being then you may just grasp how much I dig it. It means this song, the words coming from Palmer’s voice and the heart-wrenching piano accompaniment, all combine into such a powerful tune that an average uncouth guy in his mid twenties verging on the edge of fratbrodom is left in awe every time the song plays. It’s as if I remain frozen in time, in space, and all that exists around me ceases to be. Listening to this song is, in fact, a special occasion, and I am glad that such a song never makes it to the public airwaves because I shudder to think what would happen if I should be struck by a “first orgasm” attack on the public roadways. No mailbox or parked car would be safe.

Overly dramatic description of my own experiences with the song aside, it really is a great listen. Palmer’s voice is steady and unbelievably beautiful, and she certainly holds her notes well. However, it’s the moments where the voice wavers that get to me. In those moments she does more than sing. She conveys the hard lament of a persona that experiences the sexual nirvana of the lonely. The song begins very serenely, with the woman describing her morning routine and describing what she sees as she sits at her computer. During the fun she wanders off and decides that a little relief is in order, and in this song it is exactly that: relief. A momentary distraction, a tiny sneeze… another part of the routine. Not quite the great and wondrous experience spoken of by some and hoped for by many more, and that is perhaps why the words in the song resonated so strongly. Never before had I considered that the act of masturbation is merely part of a routine, something to get out of the way so that I may continue with the next item on the to-do list. Palmer expresses the notion well in this song and complements the message with the beauty of her singing and ivory tinkling. As she climaxes so does the music, becoming more dramatic to keep in step with the real highlight of the piece which is Palmer’s rousing vocals, until at last she peaks and begins the somber downslide, declaring that other people only complicate things. She can take of it herself. If only that were true…

first orgasm

it is a thursday
i get up early
it is a challenge
i’m usually lazy

i make some coffee
I eat some rice chex
and then i sit down
to check my inbox

i only read a word or two
i stare across the street and see the churches and the blue

the first orgasm of the morning
is cold and hard as hell
there won’t be any second coming
as far as i can tell

i arch my back cause
i’m very close now
it’s very cold here
by the window

there are some school kids
yelling and running
i barely notice
that i am cumming

the first orgasm of the morning
is like a fire drill
it’s nice to have a little warning
but not enjoyable

i am too busy to have friends
a lover would just complicate my plans
so i will never look for love again
i’m taking matters into my own hands

i think i could last at least a week without someone to hold me
i think i could last at least a week without someone to hold me
won’t you hold me?

copyright 2005 amanda palmer

http://www.dresdendolls.com/downloads_n_lyrics/lyrics/firstorgasm.htm

Time taken to find and purchase the song when I realized I needed to listen to it right now: 58 seconds. Number of times “first orgasm” played during the sporadic writing of this: 46.
Were you expecting a juicy story about the first coming? Well, I’ll leave that to you.