I’ve tried to make every blog entry since March be about the pandemic, but at some point one must blog more broadly. A change of number on the calendar is as good a time as any to declare an end; so this will be the last marked-as-such pandemic post, though probably not the last post about the pandemic, since while 2020 is over, the pandemic is not.
To 2020, let us say
And of course, what I listen to every New Year’s Eve: with the greatest performance of “Auld Lang Syne” there is, here’s Snail Ramp:
Taylor Swift surprised everyone by releasing a surprise new album, which she wrote and recorded entirely during the quarantine. My favorite song on it is the poignant “Invisible String”
which has an agreeable Penguin Cafe Orchestra vibe, see e.g.
(The one thing about “Invisible String” is that people seem to universally read it as a song about how great it is to finally have found true love, but people, if you say
And isn’t it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?
you are (following Hemingway at the end of The Sun Also Rises) saying it would be lovely to think there was some kind of karmic force-bond tying you and your loved one together, but that, despite what’s pretty, there isn’t, and you fly apart.)
Anyway, I too, like my fellow writer Taylor Swift, have been working surprisingly fast during this period of enforced at-homeness. Even with the kids here all the time, not going anywhere is somehow good writing practice. And this book I’m writing, the one that’s coming out next spring, is now almost done. I’m somewhat tetchy about saying too much before the book really exist, but it’s called Shape, there is a lot of different stuff in it, and I hope you’ll like it.
As an eternal 1990s indie-pop nerd I could not but be thrilled this week when I realized I was going to Bristol
on the National Express.
Bristol, besides having lots of great mathematicians to talk to, is much lovelier than I knew. There’s lots of terrain! It seems every time you turn a corner there’s another fine vista of pastel-painted row houses and the green English hills far away. There’s a famous bridge. I walked across it, then sat on a bench at the other side doing some math, in the hopes I’d think of something really good, because I’ve always wanted to scratch some math on a British bridge, William Rowan Hamilton-style. Didn’t happen. There was a bus strike in Bristol for civil rights because the bus companies didn’t allow black or Indian drivers; the bus lines gave in to the strikers and integrated on the same day Martin Luther King, Jr. was saying “I have a dream” in Washington, DC. There’s a chain of tea shops in Bristol called Boston Tea Party. I think it’s slightly weird to have a commercial operation named after an anti-colonial uprising against your own country, but my colleagues said no one there really thinks of it that way. The University of Bristol, by the way, is sort of the Duke of the UK, in that it was founded by a limitless bequest from the biggest tobacco family in the country, the Willses. Bristol also has this clock:
The band is the guy you see playing guitar and his mom, who plays bass (seen in the video emerging from behind the bar.) It totally seems reasonable to ask “how can young people playing electric guitar and singing about Stuff In Their Life still be interesting after all these years” but I’m still interested! I love the way this kid duckwalks. I love the way he lays out “Okay. Uh huh” like a young Jonathan Richman. I love the way he delivers “You know what they say, they say…” Here’s Balonely on Bandcamp. Whole record is good. Hear also: “Shape.”
Once I bought a used CD because the name of the band was The Multiple Cat and the name of the album was “Territory” Shall Mean The Universe and just how could you not? I was rewarded. The Multiple Cat was a 1990s band in the Quad Cities (Davenport and Bettendorf in Iowa, Rock Island and Moline in Illinois, headquarters of John Deere and hometown of Lara Flynn Boyle.) I’ve never been there but I have listened to this album a lot. It is not quite as philosophical as the name of the band (Schroedinger?) and the name of the album (Wittgenstein?) suggest. But very richly weird. My top track: North? which starts out as a kind of burbly, groovy chat-song and then about two and a half minutes in blossoms out into, I don’t know what, major-key chippy synths start to poke in, there’s a vocal line (“Saaaaay to me”) which I think must be sampled, it becomes majestic. Hear also: My Year As a Girl, which is not about trans stuff as far as I can tell, but is, whatever it’s about, a real indie-disco stomper from years before Franz Ferdinand was everywhere.
Anyway, The Multiple Cat faded out and songwriter Pat Stolley got involved running Daytrotter. But now it turns out they’re back! Have been for a few years. Their comeback record is called The Return Of. Not The Return of the Multiple Cat, that would be too obvious, just The Return Of. Highlight track: “Vampire Bats, Mall Rats.”
In other Quad Cities news, their microregional pizza sounds pretty great. On the other hand, the last microregional pizza I made a point of investigating, Old Forge pizza in Northeastern Pennsylvania, didn’t blow me away.
I’ve been reading Marcus Aurelius and he keeps returning to the theme that one must live “according to one’s nature” in order to live a good life. He really believes in nature. In fact, he reasons as follows: nature wouldn’t cause bad things to happen to the virtuous as well as the wicked, and we see that both the virtuous and the wicked often die young, so early death must not be a bad thing.
Apparently this focus on doing what is according to one’s nature is a standard feature of Stoic philosophy. It makes me think of this song, one of the few times the Beatles let Ringo sing. It’s not even a Beatles original; it’s a cover of a Buck Owens hit from a couple of years previously. Released as a B-side to “Yesterday” and then on the Help! LP.
Ringo has a different view on the virtues of acting according to one’s nature:
They’re gonna put me in the movies
They’re gonna make a big star out of me
We’ll make a film about a man that’s sad and lonely
And all I gotta do is act naturally
Well, I’ll bet you I’m a-gonna be a big star
Might win an Oscar you can’t never tell
The movie’s gonna make me a big star,
‘Cause I can play the part so well
Well, I hope you come and see me in the movie
Then I’ll know that you will plainly see
The biggest fool that’s ever hit the big time
And all I gotta do is act naturally
Two songs that seem very much of a common kind, though I find it hard to articulate exactly why. Maybe the high, incredibly clear vocals. Maybe that they’re songs about love that aren’t about pleasure.
The dBs, “Black and White”
The Dentists, “Charms and the Girl”
The Dentists song was one of those lost songs for me for years, something I’d heard on a mixtape some WHRB friend had made — all I remembered was that opening, the note repeated again and again, then the four-note circle, then the notes repeated, then the four-note circle, then the tenor vocal coming in: “I have heard / a hundred reasons why…” When I finally found it again, thanks to tech magnate and indie-pop culture hero Kardyhm Kelly, it was just as great as I’d remembered. It’s not on Spotify. Is that what we define as “obscure” these days?
This post is to remind myself of this great 1980 release from a band that apparently nobody knows anything about. I like the way it starts out like a Joy Division rip and then gets much bigger and more interesting (not more interesting than Joy Division, more interesting than a Joy Division rip.)
reappears, 25 years after Slanted and Enchanted, in Selena Gomez’s “Bad Liar””:
Both songs are lopey and talky. Stephen Malkmus is talking over the Fall’s “A New Face in Hell.” Gomez is talking over “Psycho Killer.” Gomez, unlike Malkmus, tells you what she’s trying to do, or trying to not do. I don’t think this blunts the basic ambiguity of the line — I’m trying to do something, but also, yeah, I’m a little trying, aren’t I?
Bonus track: Julian Cope, “Try Try Try.” Your famous victory will be no victory!
Dolores O’Riordan, singer in the Cranberries, died today. In the fall of 1993 I was living in an apartment by myself for the first time, the Baltimorean on N. Charles Street. I was devoting myself full-time to being a writer and kind of hating it. I didn’t know anyone in Baltimore and the people in my program were mostly older than me and socially inaccessible and I was lonely. The apartment was always too hot. I ate spaghetti with jar sauce for dinner by myself and listened to “Linger.” It’s still the sound of loneliness to me, after all these years.