Out Come The Knives

I love music.  I also have a huge appetite for new music.  I mean, of course, "new to me", and not, "recently recorded".  Amazon has a delicious mp3 store that frequently has albums on sale for $5 (or less).  This allows me to indulge my large appetite on the cheap, and I thank them for it.

I listen to many genres of music.  Mostly rock-based (of many stripes), but also jazz, folk, rap, swing, pop, avant garde, and whatever else may find its way onto my iPod.

So, I had this crazy idea that, in order to keep myself writing, I'd start doing reviews (for lack of a better word) of the new music I was picking up.  I don't plan on necessarily going into the back catalog, but we'll see what your feedback and my whims lead to.

Luckily, this idea coincided with a purchase from one of my favorite bands - one that I've mentioned on this blog and also on FB several times - The Paper Chase.

 

 

Hide the Kitchen Knives

by The Paper Chase

 

I started listening to The Paper Chase based on a recommendation from a like-minded, music afficionado, friend of mine.  The album that I heard first was their third, God Bless Your Black Heart.  I have since collected all of their albums.  Hide the Kitchen Knives was their second album and the fifth for me.

Musically, HTKK fits right in with the rest of their work, and is a step forward from their debut album, Young Bodies Heal Quickly, You Know.  The production is more refined, and the band is once again led by mastermind/vocalist ("singer" might be a stretch)/guitarist/songwriter/producer, John Congleton. 

Describing The Paper Chase in words is liked trying to describe the feeling of your first kiss or, more accurately, your first fistfight.  The music is an experimental combination of guitar, bass, drums, piano, and samples.  The band is very tight, but never sounds that way, because their music is so discordant.  It sounds as if the musicians might all be playing the same song, but aren't sure what key they're supposed to be playing in.  I can't tell if Congleton's just such a genius that he can bludgeon these disparate sounds into an overall vision, or if each part being wrong ends up sounding all right in the end.

The songs are arranged in such a way that they move from positively bludgeoning, to quiet and almost-beautiful.  The listener is never allowed to rest, though.  Something will keep upsetting any attempt to just float along with the music, whether it's an intentional, "bad" note, or the theme of the lyrics.  The Paper Chase are also not afraid to let various band members rest for a bit.  Instruments drop in and out of the music to suit the arrangements.  Songs blend together, making the work seem like a concept album, even when it isn't.  Samples are not loops of music bits or sound effects, for the most part, but snippets of voice recordings.  Most appear to be recordings of surviving relatives of crime victims.  They add a creepy layer to the proceedings, boosting the unease created by the music.

Lyrically, the Paper Chase craft an ugly world, giving the impression of a run-down Texas trailer park in mid-August, populated entirely by dysfunctional families whose members have nothing but utter contempt for each other.  Surprisingly, though, the lyrics are quite literate and contain some clever wordplay and dark humor.

All of these elements are in play on HTKK.  The Paper Chase defintely have a sound, and they stick with it.  The vocals lean toward the raw delivery that would fade a bit on subsequent albums.  The lyrics continue their penchant for dark wordplay, and are still painting a dirty, sweaty world.  The music is just as experimental and unsettling.  Basically, I got exactly what I wanted/expected from the album.  The band is in fine form, and the production sounds better than that on Young Bodies.

The highest compliment I can pay to The Paper Chase is that they don’t sound like anyone else.  At least, no one that I’ve heard of.  Most of the time, when you listen to a new band, I will compare the band  to another band (or bands).  “They sound like X, but with the vocals of Y”.  I honestly cannot draw any meaningful comparison.  For me, finding a band that has a wholly unique sound is automatically worth a listen.  Hide the Kitchen Knives, while not necessarily my favorite album by TPC, is certainly a great example of their sound for someone who would like to give them a try.

A Dream of the End

I had an incredibly vivid dream this morning.  Ordinarily, I wouldn't share, but this one was very powerful and is really sticking with me.  Please understand, as I describe this, that it was a dream, and didn't necessarily make entire sense with the world as we know it.  I'm just telling it like it happened.

It was The End.  Like, the end of everything.  God was preparing to enact the final reckoning, and all of the believers of the world were gathered together in one place.  It was many different faiths, too.  I don't know exactly which ones were represented, but it wasn't just Baptists, for example.  The place was a very large, very flat place, all well-manicured grass and trees.  It called to mind the Temple Mount in Jerusalem but, as I said, all grass, like a golf course.  All of the people were there, and yet, it wasn't crowded at all.  That's not a snarky way to say that there weren't that many believers.  It just defied logic, to have so many there and not be crowded.  The people clustered together in small groups, talking and sharing stories and ideas about their lives and what was to come.

A small handful of people were then chosen to take on specific tasks.  I was chosen to give prayer/last rites for the children in attendance.  When I explained that I wasn't Catholic, and didn't believe in last rites, I was told that it was OK.  It was to comfort the children and their parents, and my prayer was more than sufficient for what was needed.  I agreed, honored to be chosen.  Simultaneously, my wife was made the spirit of Death. 

Now, before you start evaluating my thoughts about the Missus, you should understand a few things.  First, the Bible states that we should strive for the greater gifts when it comes to gifts of the Spirit.  My wife has been a Christian for longer than I have and is more mature in her faith than I am.  Secondly, she wasn't kitted out with a black robe and scythe.  It was just her, and she had a very important job to do.  My job was important - I mean, I was singled out - but she was really elevated.  It was pretty awe-inspiring.

So, at a given time, we understood that some of the gathered were ready to pass on to...whatever came after.  My wife and I moved through the assembled.  As I prayed, she would reach out her hand and, whoever she touched, died.  It wasn't a normal death.  They would freeze up and the color would drain out of them and they just weren't there anymore.  Some of them were nervous as she approached, but no one was really afraid.  As we passed, some of the remaining people would thank me for the prayers/last rites.  When enough people were...I don't know..."taken", we would go back to just being ourselves and waiting for the next time we were needed.  This happened a few times.

In the last part of the dream, we were all just waiting again.  Suddenly, I heard a quiet commotion behind me.  People were talking excitedly, gasping, etc.  I knew that God was among us.  Without turning to look, I dropped to my knees and pressed my face to the grass.  I whispered that I was done waiting and was ready to go.  I felt a weight on my back, as if someone were standing over me.  He asked me if I was sure that I was ready to examine my life, to be judged.  I said, "I've been made holy.  I'm ready".

Instantly, there was a table on the grass in front of me.  He started gathering the actions, thoughts, relationships, everything from my life and setting them on the table in front of me, like tokens.  They were a sort of smoky-white color, and were diferent sizes - some small, like a penny, up to roughly two inches across.  He said, "Let's start with the people in your life - those who are important to you".  The tokens lined up North-to-South, in the center of the table.  As I thought of the people that I cared about, the line of tokens grew.  I knew that we were going to go through absolutely everything that I had ever seen, done, thought, felt.  I was nervous, but never afraid.  I felt Love.  Even knowing that my existence would be laid bare, I was never ashamed.  I knew that this was just something that must be done before I moved on.

Unfortunately, before I could see what happened next, wind blew through the house, causing the bathroom door to creak and wake me up.  I tried to ignore the creaking but, by the third or fourth creak, I was awake.  Quite disappointing.  I really wanted to see what would happen next.

I'm not really sure why I'm sharing this.  I'm not one of those "visions" people.  I realized, as soon as I woke, that it was a dream.  I don't feel like I saw the future or anything.  It was just a very powerful experience for me.  If anything, I think it provides a clear idea of how I view God.  That alone makes it worthwhile for me.

P.S.  I just put my iPod on Shuffle, and the first song it chose was "These Dreams", by Heart.

In Which I Have A Bad Attitude

Warning: This may get a little bit ramble-y.  I'm trying to puzzle through this on the fly - please bear with me.

Church made me grouchy yesterday.  It's been doing that a lot lately.  Our head pastor recently departed, and it seems like the church hasn't been the same since (or even a bit before he left).  It's definitely changed, and it's hard to put my finger on what exactly the difference is.  I don't think that it's necessarily a vaccuum effect, as we have continuity in our remaining pastor, although, it may be tangentially related to that.  Plus, I feel like our current pastor is really bringing his A-game to his messages.  He's rocking some good scripture study.

I'm wondering if certain members of the church are trying to re-mold things in the former pastor's absence.  See, the thing is that we're a multi-faith, Protestant chapel.  Not all of our members' attitudes and dogmas coincide perfectly.  Some of the change may be people trying to make the chapel line up a little more with their individual faith.  I can write that off as growing pains.

It also seems like a really, really lot of our members are going through some stuff right now.  Obviously, this has nothing to do with who is standing on the pulpit on a given Sunday.  Perhaps some of my perceived change is just being in a room with a lot of people who are hurting.  I could honestly spend one whole service just hugging people and crying with them - just letting them know that they're not alone.  Not very practical, from a we-need-to-have-singing-and-sermon-and-offering-and-singing point of view, but, hey, it's how I feel.

Anyway, yesterday, as we left, I related to the Missus how I felt, counting through item after item of inconsequential things that all added up to me making this emoticon >:-( by the time we left.  She suggested that, maybe, we shouldn't attend that church anymore, if I was so upset every week.  Just that simple suggestion really stopped me in my tracks.  That is certainly not the direction that I wish to go.  For one, as I said, the pastor is really blessing me weekly with some good, in-depth, study.  Also, I'm starting to build some good relationships there.  I certainly don't want to leave them behind and start all over. 

At that point, I really had to admit that I might be the problem.  Well, not me, but my attitude.

So, where is the attitude coming from?  Well, I think it may be the issue I had last month with some of my fellow chapel members.  I think I've really been holding onto that, and it's coloring my overall experience when I have to be in the same room as them, which hasn't necessarily been as infrequently as I would like.

Yes, I am guilty of being unforgiving.  It's made me a less effective Christian, and, honestly, a less effective member of the human race.  The irony is not lost on me that a reasonably significant portion of my blog, to date, has been dedicated to convincing people to be more hip and groovy to each other and, here I am, stewing over some old stuff.

Here we go, then.  You church members who I am upset with - I forgive you.  I recognize that you will probably not read this, as we are not friends, nor will we likely be - and that's OK.  I'm forgiving you in my heart, and am going to let last month's issue go.  It's over and done with, and life goes on.

Whew.  That feels better.

To the few of you who actually read this: thanks for letting me get that off my chest.  I really do think the world will be a much better place when we can all figure out a nice, peaceful way to handle our disagreements.  Obviously, I am not the perfect example, but I'm trying.  Life's too short to spend it angry.

I Wrote Another Short Story!

I love the show The Twilight Zone.  Little slices of things that were always just a bit askew.  I think I loved them for the same reason that I love short stories.  You can shorthand a lot of stuff and just dive right into to a character in a strange situation.

This story is my attempt at paying homage to that great series.  I've had this idea for a long time about a man waking up, and realizing that the sky above him was not the sky that he was familiar with.  I thought that would be a very disorienting way to wake up.  I sort of forced myself to give this man a story.

Again, let me know what you think.

Unfamiliar Sky

Dan Burke woke, flat on his back in the grass, staring up at an unfamiliar sky.  Stargazing was a hobby of his, and the constellations overhead were definitely in the wrong positions.  He took quick stock of his various body parts, and judged that he was uninjured, if a little damp from lying in the wet grass.  He lifted his head, slowly, and looked around.  He recognized the softball field immediately.  His company's team had taken second place in the city tournament last year, and he played second base.  He stood.

I'm only a mile or so from home.  That's good, he thought.  But why are the stars wrong?  And, why am I in the softball field?

The field lights were off, but the first traces of light were coming over the horizon, and Dan could tell that his car wasn't in the small parking lot.  He checked his pockets and discovered that he had his keys and wallet.

I don't feel hung over.  How did I get out here?

Slowly, Dan headed toward the break in the fence near the dugout.  Leaving the field, he started toward home.  Even though he knew where he was, he was disoriented from waking out in the open, and felt shaken by the strange sky.

Someone was running toward him on the street.  His heartbeat quickened, and he tensed.  He had a moment’s indecision whether or not to run away.  Instead, he chose to continue ahead, ready to spring out of the way if needed.  As the person got closer, he could hear rhythmic, heavy breathing.  Morning jogger, Dan thought, and felt a little silly for his apprehension.  Sure enough, the jogger passed him by with barely a glance.

As the sky brightened overhead, erasing the errant constellations, Dan’s nerves calmed considerably.  He turned onto his street, and saw his car, parked in the driveway.  He arrived at his house and pulled his keys out of his pocket.  He slid his house key into the lock and turned it over.  Or, rather, he tried to.  While it slid home easily enough, it refused to turn.  He tried again.  Nothing.  He checked that he was using the correct key.  Yes, it was definitely his house key.  Knowing that it wouldn’t work, Dan tried once more.  Still nothing.  His unease was creeping back up, now mixed with frustration.

The door opened.

“Dan?  Where have you been?”  It was Paige, his wife, a concerned look on her face.

“I, uh, I was just out for a walk.  I, um, woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep.  Thought I’d go get some air”, he lied.

“Dan, I was really worried.  You could have left a note or something”.  She kissed him as she stepped back to let him in.  “I’m glad you’re home, anyway.  Want some coffee?”

“Oh, yes.  Very much yes”.  He followed Paige into the kitchen.  “I think something’s wrong with the lock.  Or my key.”

“Really?  We can try my key later.  See what’s wrong with it”.  She busied herself with the coffee maker.

Dan sat at the kitchen table and watched her make coffee.  She had always had a great figure and, dressed as she was, in her robe, hair still damp from the shower, Dan found her to be incredibly sexy.  He was forming the words to tell her so, when she approached him, steaming mugs of coffee in hand.

“Here you go, sweetie”, she said as she flashed him her disarming smile, the one that made the corners of her sparkling hazel eyes turn down.

Dan’s heart began pounding again.  Paige had the most stunning hazel eyes.  They flashed green when she was angry.  He had spent hours of his life, staring into them.

Paige’s eyes, as she handed him his coffee, were a flat, milk chocolate brown.

Dan started, pushing away and upsetting his chair in the process.  He fell hard to the floor.  His mug shattered, spattering him with hot coffee.

“Dan!  What the hell?”, Paige yelled at him.  Her eyes did not flash green.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

Her face softened and she leaned down toward him.  “Dan, what’s wrong?  Are you OK?”

“I SAID ‘GET AWAY FROM ME!’”.  Dan kicked the upset chair at Paige, knocking her feet out from under her. She sprawled over the chair and crashed to the floor.  Dan scrambled to his feet and ran awkwardly for the front door.  Throwing it open, he almost ran into Ed, his next door neighbor.

“Hey, Dan.  Is everything OK?  I heard shouting”.  Ed glanced past Dan, into the house.

“Huh?  Oh, uh, yeah.  No, everything’s fine”.  Dan made a feeble attempt at a smile.  Ed returned the smile, revealing a set of teeth, all pointed, like a shark’s.

“Ed!  Help!”, Paige screamed from kitchen.  Ed’s shark grin widened. 

Dan screamed and punched Ed square in the nose.  Ed staggered back for a moment, then rushed forwards, grabbing Dan by the shirt and slamming him backwards into the wall, knocking the wind from his lungs.  Paige came around the corner, limping, fixing her disheveled robe.  Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Dan, why?”, Paige asked, leveling her brown eyes at him.

“Your…your eyes”, Dan whispered.

“What about my eyes, Dan?” 

Paige sighed, lowering her head.  When she looked back up at him, her damp eyes were hazel, favoring green, as they always had been.  Dan gaped at her, then glanced at Ed, with his smashed nose, blood pouring down his face, and then back into his wife’s beautiful hazel eyes.

Dan fainted.

*********************************************** 

Dan Burke woke, flat on his back, staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.  All white, with metal grates covering the recessed lights.  He took quick stock of his various body parts, and judged that he was uninjured, but he couldn’t move his arms.  He lifted his head, slowly, and looked around.  He took in the padded walls and straitjacket. 

Dan lowered his head and closed his eyes, hoping to awake somewhere else.

In my head, the confrontation between Dan and Paige was much more violent.  Then, I thought that, between this story and the last, some of you might think that I had a real problem with women.  That's not the case at all, but I figured that maybe toning it down would be better for the story anyway.