Memories of the Club

I went to my first nightclub a matter of days before I started college. It was called Trilogy, and it was, like many other clubs of the time, a rave venue trying to go mainstream. A converted warehouse, the club had a main room, a 2nd room, a chillout room, and an upstairs bar. At 18, I was a sober virgin, and since the place was full of fat beats and dancing girls, I needed only water and acceptance of an invitation to dance. A fellow freshman took me up on that last, and we parked our hips together in the middle of the floor.

Danced All Night.

Now, I'd heard of such a thing, and I'm a born dancer, but this was the first opportunity in my life to dance until they kicked us out. 5, maybe 6 hours straight we went - the house beats never stopped and this music enveloped us. I knew I had found my church, my soul cleansing ritual. I didn't know it then, but I'd also found a rich connection not only to the people with whom I share this ritual, but also to the whole history of the act of dance. This history and practice of dance is a beautiful prism through which to view humanity, and so my memories of the height of my club years are maybe the best memories I have of my late teens and early twenties.

After that first night, I went as much as I could. Around a college campus in an urban environment, that can be a lot. There were times when I would be at the club four or five, sometimes even six nights a week. I went to college and worked my first full-time job during this era, though I did neither of those activities very well. Finding a place to dance? Now, that, I was good at.

There was college ID night at Cub 1148 on Wednesdays, friendly with the bouncer at the Beach Club on Thursdays. Before I was 21, Fridays were always fraternity parties, but if they didn't have a dance floor, we were stealing their beer and bouncing. I would happily settle for a smaller party, or even a dorm room, if there was dancing. After I was 21, it was easy. Fridays were the Basement.

The Basement was where I learned to drink beer. It's also where I learned how to know when to stop drinking beer. It's the only place where I was ever picked up by a woman I didn't know. When we had visitors from Egypt who wanted to try the American night life, I took them to the Basement. We didn't get to stay all that long, because one of them was so fascinated with tequila that he insisted on having 2 shots within about 5 minutes of each other, and then proceeded to puke on the middle of the dance floor. We left fast. The Basement played a lot of 80s and 90s dance pop: Madonna, Prince, Michael Jackson, as well as a selection of contemporary dance and hip hop hits. It was a blast and a half, and we were proper regulars. I knew it took me about $30 of cheap beer (and kind tips) to get a nice buzz on, so payday was the bomb, while end-of-month nights were a little drier. We always had a designated driver who was allowed one drink at the beginning of the night, and we rotated amongst ourselves. The place was decorated like a basement - washer and dryer, old couches, a toilet with a life size doll depicting the owner of the local football team in the defacatory posture. Upstairs featured a deck open to the river, with a giant block of ice and a dentist's chair for taking fancy shots. We saw Eiffel 65 perform there in 99! This was a seriously wonderful place and moment. And we danced.

We danced in Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Salt Lake City, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, NorCal, SoCal, Canada, Mexico. Finding the right club at the right time was a treasure hunt, and the payoff was the perfect dance floor. Proper dancers - no meat market. Packed but not too packed. Drunk but not too drunk. Poppy, but not too poppy. BAR had a DJ that talked over the music, but they played Biggie, so we went. The gay clubs had a sweet vibe, but only played house music, so we went. The little clubs played sweet music, but were often full of haters, so we went and stayed in a group. We tried them all at least once, though we ended up at the Basement after most of them. It was tough, and sometimes disappointing search. We still went - my club buddies and I had no problem dancing by ourselves. This makes us lots of fun to invite to your wedding.

Probably about the time I turned 30, I stopped going to the club as much. As I worked harder during the day, I couldn't stay out late enough to make it worth it, and at the same time, the house parties got better: better drinks, better food, better music, better crowds. Now we throw that nightclub vibe when we party at home, which thankfully is often.

I still think of the club fondly. I'll be back, I'm sure (though I'm more likely dancing in my living room with my new daughter these days. I often say I'm glad I survived those years, and it's true - these are certainly overall not the best parts of my life. So it's more that I'm glad I lived those years. They were really good and adventurous and energetic and fun. There's proper lessons to be learned on the dance floor, and I'm glad I spent my time there.

Thoughts on Being a New Parent

I'm just about to finish paternity leave and go back to work. Of course, paternity leave has been a profound time for me, and being a new parent is expanding my perceptions. Here are some things I have learned during this experience.

1. Breastfeeding is a shitload of work, and our culture does not value or recognize this work enough. It’s been quite lovely to watch Dana practice the art of breastfeeding, but damn, does she have to do it all the time. It’s amazing because it’s relentless work that takes patience and gentleness and the payoff is just as relentless. The relationship between food, growth and excretion is really clear right now, and it’s powerful (in a messy, smelly way) to see that relationship develop. So cheers to breastfeeding moms, who should be counted as heroes.¹


2. The stability of our relationships really helps make this easier. Figuring out what to do with this baby is testing our marriage. I am grateful that Dana and I have established habits of communication and compromise, as we have relied heavily on both these past few weeks. We have well-seasoned friendships with people we trust, many of whom are parents themselves, and we’ve called upon those friendships daily during Dana’s birthing time and our time at home. Our tribe continues to support us on both practical and emotional levels, and this support means I have never once felt alone as a new parent. I don’t think our culture talks about this either. We say it’s good to be married and have a stable circumstance, but we never say you should have a conscious network of supportive people around you. Sure, to a certain extent we encourage blood relatives to participate in child-rearing, but often times, this is unhealthy if those relatives are hostile or toxic. My wife’s parents, along with my brother and sister-in-law, have been extraordinarily kind and supportive throughout Dana’s pregnancy and the first few weeks of our daughter’s birth, and I would agree that blood relatives who are happily engaged in the process are ideal caretakers. However, a good friend who loves the new child and serves that child cheerfully is much better than a relative who brings negativity.


3. I have a new subcultural identity. Whereas in my day I have experimented with various subcultural scenes, I now find myself in the urban parenting subculture. We have special events with behavior codes outside of the norm (poop talk). We recognize each other by wearing certain uniforms (Ergo carriers and coffee cups). We use inside slang (“boppy”, “blowout”, “tummy time”). It’s pretty great because, like other subcultures, there’s wisdom and history to be had there, not to mention tribal identity.


4. My child and my friends’ children make me hopeful about the future. I’ve enjoyed time with my friends’ children so much. I’ve found them funny, innovative, and well cultured². I know that these children have the potential to make the world a much brighter place, and I’m excited to work together with them!


5. A healthy child is the greatest treasure I could ask for. When I walk down the street with my daughter wrapped snugly to my chest, people stop and stare, often starting conversations with me about her. Cars stop to let me cross and people hold doors for me. Everyone sincerely congratulates us on having a healthy baby, and many people really open themselves to sharing our joy. It’s encouraging to see people around me valuing this being as much as I do. Intellectually, I know we’re just attracted to cute babies for evolutionary reasons, but I still like people showering my baby with love and kisses and cuddles.

Overall, I couldn't be more excited to be at this phase of our lives. I have barely a clue what comes next, but I’m curious about all of it, especially about who this little person really is. She’s already shown a really positive response to music. In fact, as I write this, she’s asleep in her room with some of Dana’s massage therapy music on in the background. She’ll sometimes sleep a solid 3 hours like this, which these days is a huge treat. She also stopped stopped crying when I played Limp Bizkit for her the other day (What? I was experimenting!), so I know it’s not just the mellow music she responds to. A good friend told me it’s like we get a little sliver of their personality every day, and it eventually all adds up. Like anything, I’m sure there’ll be good days and bad days, but the experience of paternity leave has been quite fulfilling and life-affirming. I wonder what comes next...



1. I am sure that formula feeding brings its own set of challenges, and I am sure those moms are heroes as well. Breastfeeding was right for our family, so it’s the only experience to which I can speak.

2. I understand having the opportunity to be exposed to quality culture is an expression of class privilege. I believe it is a facet of class privilege which, like education, can be used in a benevolent and compassionate manner. Therefore I believe parents who have the opportunity to give their children good education and culture should do so, and teach them how to turn around and use that privilege for the good of their community.

Why Pelican?

For about the past 2 weeks, I've not been able to get the music of Pelican out of my head. I've been a fan since 2007, just before the release of their third full-length, City of Echoes, but I'm feeling this music more than ever lately. There's something special going on here - something that makes this music stand out above nearly all of the other music to which I listen. Of course, when it comes to it, great art is great due to some kind of je ne sais quoi, but there are certainly a few things I think I can put my finger on.

From minute one, the guitar work is interesting but accessible. Tempos vary from the very slow to the medium, and always the guitar sounds are in service to the song. The tones and textures harmonize perfectly and never do we hear indulgent guitar wankery. This is EXACTLY how I want my guitar: big, beautiful chords; rich, smooth distortion; cooperative layers of melody played with obvious passion. This facet alone makes Pelican's music a joy to listen to.

The instrumental aspect of this band is a big deal in a rock context. So much rock n roll - especially from the metal scenes which spawned Pelican - is focused on an expressive lead singer that we don't often get to hear well-developed compositions. Although their sound has consistent elements (see the paragraph above), they never resort to formulas or rehashing of old material. Therefore the Pelican discography is full of fresh riffs and rhythms, with little intricacies and musical relationships left for the listener to discover over time.

Finally, I think the thing that really makes my heart beat fast about this band is that they're getting better. While the first, untitled EP from 2001 is wonderful and quite listenable, their latest work on 2009's What We All Come To Need is easily my favorite stuff they've ever done, and the songs from their upcoming album, Forever Becoming are some of the best they've ever written. In interviews, the band talks about the way that touring has influenced their composition and performance style, and the payoff there is that this music is becoming ever more focused and expertly constructed.

For those frustrated with the state of contemporary rock, this is where we need to turn. Pelican uses their colorful, delicious style to explore big concepts related to both the urban and the natural world, but this ambition comes with no pretention. This is rock n roll for the pure loud joy of it, and I trust that joy to keep me coming back for more.

PJ Harvey "Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea" Commentary

I generally try to write about music in the historical present, with a focus on describing the sound itself. For this reason, this commentary has been quite challenging for me to write. I have such a deeply personal response to "Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea" that I simply have no way to listen to this album in a subjective manner. Each time I listen, this music fills my head with rich, evocative images of passionate, powerful times in my own life.

"Stories from the City, Stories from the Sea" is a masterpiece of rockcraft. The instrumentation sounds sparse (which I suspect is a well-crafted illusion) and this album stays accessible from start to finish. It's never abrasive; the intensity of this music comes from the imagery. This is a great album to put on at a cocktail hour, as it's pretty without being slow, and energetic without being aggressive.

Harvey sounds soulful here. At times barely controlled, she draws throaty, breathy pictures of moments between and within people. The album opener, "Big Exit", tells of moments of fear and disbelief and makes me think of times when I had to make a huge decision in a split second. "Good Fortune" celebrates companionship and makes me think of the early weeks and months of dating the woman who was to become my wife.

My favorite song on this record is "You Said Something", a vulnerable, open song about instants of intimacy in our lives, whisps of romance and friendship that come and go quickly and often leave behind much deeper meaning. We see the power of this band in the interplay between the string instruments and the ghostly harmonies. The imagery here gives me goose bumps every time I listen closely, because they perfectly invoke the ephemeral nature, the fleeting perfection of these moments.

It's the curse of a thoughtful adult to recognize that pivotal moments appear and disappear without warning, and the only way to stay sane is to let them go. This band has made a powerfully beautiful and timeless record by making it about the moments themselves - both the sensory and the emotional parts of our memories. Similarly, by avoiding more concrete topics and love song cliches, this music stays open to new interpretation upon repeated listening. That's the real power of a piece of art like this: a focus on imagery and very understandable - even universal - emotion means that it relates to each listener's life individually, and that relationship changes over time. I expect to love this album and to continue letting it make me feel pleasantly reminiscent for the rest of my life.

  

A Long Moment, Indescribably Sad

WARNING: This is an emotional post, and contains opinions that could be inflammatory to theists and the religious in general. I apologize for that. It is not my intention to hurt anyone. My opinions are my own, and I will not force them upon anyone. At the same time, I will not shy away from my true feelings. Please feel free to avoid the paragraph that begins "I am glad that my friend has religion." to skip this content. 

Children, rejoice in the deaths of your parents. Parents, be at peace when you close your eyes, and know that it is appropriate for you to have a beginning and an end. I am blessed to have witnessed my mother's passing as a child, with community and spirituality to give me context and meaning. I am not scarred for having this experience - in fact I am enlivened, for never have I labored under the illusion that I go on, and having met death, I have no reason to fear it. It is normal, good and beautiful for each of us to deal with the deaths of our parents.

This morning, just before I left for work, I learned that the child of a friend of mine from Cleveland had died, only months old, after spending her short life in the hospital with serious health problems. My heart broke instantaneously, and all I could do for a moment was cry. This is wrong, wrong, wrong. Backwards. Perverted. I have deep fundamental pain in my soul on behalf of this dear mother, and I know that my pain is but a sliver of hers. How can I go on to my day if a mother has lost her child? This is NOT the way of the world, it is NOT the cycle of life, and I am at a loss to see any context or meaning to this moment.

If there was someone or something I could hate for this death, I would. If there was anything I could do or say to help my friend, I would, but what is there? I, for better or for worse, am still here, and fucked up as it is right now, life goes on. I'm not okay with that, but what the fuck can any of us do? I went to work, I was polite to everyone, and I took care of today's responsibilities. Fuck that. We should all be weeping.

I am glad that my friend has religion. She is a christian, and believes in heaven. It is good that she has that belief to turn to today, and there's a part of me that wishes I had thoughts of heaven to comfort me. However, my spiritual thoughts today are ugly, and reinforce why I reject the idea of an anthropomorphic other-god. If there was a god who loved this family and who had any power at all to intervene, today would have been a day of healing and not of grief. From my perspective, clearly no such being exists. If one does, though, I am loath to worship such a being if it will not prevent any parent from seeing their child die.

If I had my way, this would never, ever happen again. In my world, all parents die at ripe old ages surrounded by children with whom they have made peace. This is not my world, though, and I will not have my way. I can do nothing to stop the wheel from turning backwards sometimes. All I can do is cry and mourn with my friend, and with all the parents out there who have ever lost their child. My heart is broken in my hands today, and I am handing it to you.

PJ Harvey "Is This Desire?" Commentary

Rarely have I heard an artist find her own voice as strongly or as clearly as Polly Harvey does on "Is This Desire?" This band has never lacked for originality, but this record shows such breadth of style and mood as to keep the listener guessing in a big way. To a certain extent, this effect is unsettling; I don't feel like I can trust Polly. She's both spilling her soul and playing devil's advocate on this album, and seemingly both at once sometimes. Case in point:  "The River" showcases Harvey's vulnerable side as she tells the story of a search for redemption. The choruses offer the seeker some relief, but the mournful horns remind us there must be a price. I want to believe she is singing about a place of peace, but I can't help but think she is singing about oblivion instead. This is a powerful use of Harvey's voice: to lyrically send the listener in one direction while tonally creating doubt and suspicion.

When I say that Harvey has found her voice, what I mean is this: her influences are no longer clear and nobody else sounds like her. This is a mixed blessing. On one hand, this album is undeniably masterful and exquisitely well-crafted. On the other hand, I recognize some of the song-crafting techniques we've heard in the band's previous releases, which means that Harvey has only partially met her goal of not repeating herself. That's not to say that any of these songs would have fit on any of their previous albums, but more to note that some of them sound like the maturation of musical ideas the band introduced on those albums.

However, "Is This Desire?" very much features PJ Harvey expanding their repertoire of instrumentation. We hear guitars on nearly every song, but they're always processed through various effects, which is great fun. There's also a plethora of electronic noises spread all throughout this album. These sounds are wonderful: they're textured, unique and rhythmic, and they reflect Harvey's continued courage in embracing new styles. "Joy" brings the guitars and the electronics together to create a gothic, almost industrial dirge. On this song, Harvey's voice sounds like strength through pain. This is part of the distinctive power of that voice: she faces emotional darkness seemingly fearlessly. In doing so, she sets a high bar for the listener. She will tell us sincerely of her soul, but we have to accept all sides thereof.

Here is the payoff for facing the darkness: when PJ Harvey rocks, they ROCK. "The Sky Lit Up", "No Girl So Sweet" and "A Perfect Day Elise" (my personal favorite) are all full of melodic fury. They're very listenable, and they highlight another facet of Harvey's having found her voice: With nothing to prove, and their rock cred established, PJ Harvey really tone down the abrasiveness on this album. All of these songs are quite accessible, well produced, and worth revisiting over a number of listens.

"Is This Desire?" continues PJ Harvey's tradition of pushing their limits musically, and what this means is that this record achieves a very difficult goal: it balances the sophistication of experienced artists with the raw newness of working with new instruments and new styles. Thus, the band sounds both confident and hungry and the energy of this record lingers on.

Mask Party Review (Soundtrack in Retrospect)

Track 3: Fugazi - Waiting Room

I am standing in the long June evening surveying my yard with an old friend. He throws metal horns when he hears this song. We take a moment and sing together, "I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait." Another candidate for "anthem of a generation". We say music nerd code words to each other ("Ian MacKaye", "Steady Diet") and laugh at the way different parts of the US interpret sub-cultural identities. Women take note: this is how some men actually bond.

Track 19: Information Society - What's on your Mind (Pure Energy)

50% of crowd sings along to this song. They remark to the other half as to the medium upon which they listened, such as "cassingle", "recorded from radio" or "my first cd". The medium is the message.

Track 30: Foster The People - Call It What You Want

"Dude, what IS this?"

Track 52: Meat Loaf - I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)

My wife and I have an independent approach to social gatherings. We tend to have separate experiences at parties - hanging out more with other friends than each other - so we make it a point to come together for 1 or 2 songs specifically to dance together. When I mix the music, I always choose a song or two for that purpose. When this song came on, I ran to get her: "Honey, our song's on!" She came to the dance floor, cocked an ear to the ridiculous introduction of the 12 minute original album version of the song, and sat down with her head in her hands. "You brought me in here for this?" she cried. "I was winning at Susie sticks!"

Track 54: Kanye West featuring Rihanna - All Of The Lights

This track takes me right out of my head every time. Rihanna's voice and the hypnotic beat make me stop and listen. Tonight is the first time I've heard the song as it's meant to be heard: loud, on a full dance floor. On the final chorus, we all close our eyes and raise our hands. It lasts just an instant.

Track 58: Mark Ronson featuring Ghostface Killah - Lose It (In The End)

There's a dude I can count on to come running from anywhere to come dance to this song. I smack his ass.

Track 65: David Guetta featuring Akon - Sexy Bitch

"Is your friend always so flirty?"
"She is, and her husband is the smartest man in a hundred mile radius, with the earning potential of any 10 other party guests put together, so good luck with that."

Track 85: Phoenix - Lisztomania

Everyone knows this song, and loves it. I notice that there's something about the melody and vocal delivery here that appeals across demographic lines. Note to self: always play this one at mixed-generation weddings.

Track 99: The Ting Tings - That's Not My Name

This jam reverberates in my house. Everything meshes, and for a moment, the sound is perfect. Giant, clear, booming even. All the furniture in my living room is pushed back, and a circle of dancing people fills the space. Somebody calls out, "break up the circle!" and we switch: bouncing around in pairs, sandwiches and trains, avoiding the strange instinct to make circles. Our cheerleader is right: spread the energy around - don't keep it all contained. I love that every gathering has lessons like this.

Track 104: Justice - D.A.N.C.E.

This turns out to be the last proper party song of the night. It's a benediction, reminding us to take the lessons we learned on the dance floor tonight out into the world.

Track 110: The Pixies - Head On

This song is too loud. My house is warm, and smells like only house parties can smell. I can tell it's going to be awful in the morning, but that comes with the territory. Someone has cleaned my kitchen, and I remember again why it is that I count my riches in friends.

Track N: Groove Armada - At The River

The party tells me it's over, and I send off the evening sitting down by myself to cleanse with the sand dunes and salty air. I imagine all my guests home and safe, ready to nurse hangovers and nap on the couch tomorrow. I turn off the lights, drink one more glass of water, and remember to brush my teeth.