Explanation: The last movie I watched was "Burn After Reading". I emailed the professor and she said I could write about a television show or CD instead. I quite enjoyed "Burn After Reading" and wouldn't mind writing about it. The caveat now is given the option, I'd much rather write about something that moves me and that I borderline worship. I also wouldn't want to spoil the amazing twists and turns of the movie, in case you haven't watched it."Oh my friend you haven't changed. Still looking rough, and living strange -- and I know you've got a taste for it too."
-Pete Doherty, The Libertines, "Don't Look Back Into The Sun"
I treat my bouts of musical/author obsessions like milestones of my life. College, and possibly the rest of my adult life, has been consumed with the band, Beirut; and with it Zach Condon, the mystical man behind the curtain walls. Squalor, treachery and alternate lifestyle have always encapsulated my interest and are the base of any inspiration. So as expected, I completely devoured Zach Condon and his ways.
A high school drop-out and straight-A student, Condon seemed to prefer making electronica, blues inspired small 4-tracks in his basement. He had an upbringing that fed American classics like the Eagles and Springsteen; so much to his father's disappointment when he chose trumpets over guitars.
At 17, he traveled around Europe as a vagrant. The days in Paris struck him the deepest as he met street brass bands that offered impromptu lessons and neighbors upstairs blasting Balkan records and practicing accordion through the night. Obsessed with the timbre of brass and discovery of this new world sound, Condon though still a novice, was determined to make it his own. He symbolized to me a man who threw himself wholeheartedly into the unknown.
One album, one apartment in Williamsburg, New York, and two French-horn tattoos on his wrists later, Condon established a solid international fan base and new musical movement of orchestral roots, ukuleles and eastern European sentiment. When word of a second album took wind, world-wide anticipation commenced. Condon fled pressures of the New York scene back to his humble roots of Santa Fe, New Mexico for solitude. Reuniting with his childhood basement, he set to work on
The Flying Club Cup, album two. I claim it a masterpiece. And Zach only being 23-years this day, I can only imagine what is to come.
There's sincerity and rawness in the simplicity of his lyrics and composition. The deep and expressive baritone unique to Zach is exploited to it's fullest. This is my favorite song on the album. Titled "
The Island Song" during the pre-album release and later changed to "The Penalty".
It begins slowly, intimately with a ukulele. The lyrics are vague but expressive. To me, it's about an unsupportive family, disappointed about their child's life decisions. His home is an island, hostile and where he's perpetually on trial. He has to leave -- sanctioned by guilt, or perhaps exiled as penalty. He's living in purgatory with others homesick like himself.
A tuba is introduced, and the orchestra follows by a swell of sound. It ends serenely and open-ended. There's a sense of peace, when he mentions lights and hope. He also comes into terms with his family's feelings toward him, crediting them as blameless.
Like an ancient day and I'm on trial. Oh, let them seize the way. This once was an island and I could not stay for I believed them. Left for the lights always in season. Impassable nights in a crowd of homesick, fully grown children. You'll leave the lights. Your family may not wait, sir. Keep on believing. Our parents rue the day, they find us kneeling. Oh, let them think as they may for they've good reason. Left for the lights always in season.(All songs from the album,
Flying Club Cup, can be played and watched. This was a project to set all songs into a live video form. It stemmed from,
La Blogotheque, a compilation of musicians performing selected songs (kind of like highlighted readings) in commonplace public forums around France. The idea is to bring music back to it's original roots -- directly connected with the people.)
Extra: If I had to write about a television show, I'd have enough heart to spare you an endless (literally, endless) ramble on classics like The Office and Arrested Development. Pushing Daisies is on the fence for cancellation and thought I could advocate for it briefly.
The series is weaved around a quirky set of beautifully crafted characters -- caricatures in speech and mannerism, but intentionally so. The themes include death, choice and forgiveness. Characters are endearing, imperfect and pleasantly peculiar. From pop-up book fetishes to eye-patches, twitches and wardrobes -- they are all intensely idiosyncratic. The omniscient narrator also reveals to the audience inner monologues, intent and hidden emotion.
The structure is simple. A narrator introduces a small clip of Ned, the main character's childhood. This has with it some kind of unresolved theme that troubles Ned psychologically. It follows back to the 'present time' where there is a typical "Sherlock Holmes" murder mystery that echoes the introduced theme. There are a series of bizarre events and interactions that move the supplementing drama between characters. Dialogue is witty, situations are always hilarious and subtly echoing the central theme of the episode. After 24-minutes, there's a resolution and a neat tie-up via narrator.
I watch this show like it's my part-time job!
It measures two and a half inches thick and holds the weight of a small child. At a staggering 1687 pages and 10 pt font, here stands my texbook "Pathophysiology: Concepts of Altered Health States, Eighth Edition", showing considerable devastation on the lifespan of my desk legs and perhaps my own. Mondays and Wednesdays are spent carrying it to lecture, always by hand in fear that it might break my bag. I've learned through time to lean it on my chest to conserve arm stamina. Nursing students -- what we learn, ah, we keep so close to our hearts.
