In order to capture the essence of the ‘journey,’ and fully embrace the chaos, I have planned little more than to meet up with some amazing people and see where the asphalt leads.
True to the nature of Sleep Never, anything can happen, and on the flip side, I’m sure at times, very little will.
Regardless, I quit my job yesterday, packed up my life and in the next six weeks, will be crossing this entire once glorious country in planes, trains, automobiles and a giant luxury tour bus packed with good friends and gear.
Feel free to join me from your couch, cubicle, barstool or the comfort of your own bed whenever you find the time. I’ll be here.
As for today, time to kill and strapped with gear, I wrote and shot and scored this ‘found’ piece on the train ride from LA to San Diego.
Sure, the voice over is – you know – as voice over’s can be, and sort of ‘beat,’ and the beats had their own beats, sure, but they didn’t have DV’s, Macbooks and Reason so…
Choo fucking choo…
And by ‘lately,’ I mean, for months.
People keep asking me what I’m listening to and why I don’t post it.
Answer is, I don’t fancy myself a ‘music blog’ per se, as other, better-staffed blogs, with more time on their hands, have spent every single day of their lives with headphones on, digging through crates and will inevitably do it better, more hastily and critically, but it’s come to my attention that not enough people know about how awesome the bands below are.
So here they are. Go ahead and love them, or hate them, feel free to attempt to meticulously categorize them if that’s the only way you can deal. I really don’t care as long as you listen with open ears.
Just click the image to go to their myspace.
And I’ll probably start doing this more regularly now. If anything, it may help me decrease, in the overall course of my lifetime, the number of times I have to explain who bands are and what they sound like.
Direct your props to Conti on this one. You could throw that score under paint drying and it would somehow end up being epic.
Epicly ridiculous.
‘I work for a landlord fixing holes in walls and locks and cleaning up vomit and various assorted other disgusting tasks.’ - Brett Sanderson
So I had a chat with Headlights on my patio when they were in town and later came to these realizations:
1. After constant and repeated listening, Headlights’ music only gets better;
2. They’re the nicest band in the history of music;
3. They seem to genuinely love each other;
4. There is still goodness left in the world;
5. They spend way too much time together;
6. They do not all have sex together;
7. They need a bigger van;
8. They smell better when they’re leaving my house, than when they arrive; and,
9. Before they left, they broke my toilet, but it’s a small price to pay for all the joy they bring me.
First Song/Last Song and Things In Between
The Road/Cities
Either/Or
Word Association/Character Assassination
‘Cherry Tulips’ Video - Directed by Julian Acosta at J-Four
Sold my old sampler today, my first, the hardy and archaic Roland SP-808, and relived 10 years of my life in 15 minutes as I cleaned all the old samples off of it.
Some of it bliss. Much of it hell. Whatever the case, this crazy collection of a thousand late nights and early mornings I spent making music, sometimes high, sometimes drunk, many times both, is now gone forever.
What I found:
A personal history of electronic music home schooling.
Experiments, home runs, and a whole lot of junk.
The toppings from a glitchy sappy beat-driven ‘ballad’ written for a life-changing love I crushed.
Slices of songs that have shaped me.
Blips of good kids sitting in and making shit shine.
The voice of a dead friend, people I don’t see enough of anymore and 4 year old rapping Eminem.
Answering machine messages from me from anywhere and everywhere, possessed, and too far from home to wait to put down the sounds in my head properly.
Chaotic 5 a.m. microphone rants while in the throws of insomnia.
Bits of Bukowksi distorted and delayed.
And I guess in some way a sonic foundation laid for my life to one day include doing this site.
My eyes were wet by the end.
If you have a sampler, I encourage you to sit and revisit your old samples sometime.
It’s way crazier than moving.
To give you a better understanding of this sample/life connection, here’s a message from Dr. B that I sampled a few years back. Some time after that I ended up at a cardiologist, who explained that I suffer from Bradycardia.
Originally, I just thought the message would make a cool sample then later realized it sort of predicted and made even more sense of this old demo that’s been gathering dust in my hard drive for what seems like forever now.
If you’re down to take a listen, I suggest you make yourself comfortable, put on some headphones, turn it up, and let it roll. It’s a grower, not a shower.
Anyway. Enough about me.
What about you?
So I’m sitting on a bench on a cliff overlooking Santa Monica Pier yesterday, totally engrossed in the 1st hundred pages of the book I’m working on, and from behind me I hear a gentle older man voice say: ‘Excuse me there, young man.’
So I turn to find a fiftysomething beachcomber/science teacher looking guy: earth tone shorts, t-shirt, spectacles, beach hat and fanny pack, holding up his brown beach cruiser with one hand and offering a pamphlet to me with the other.
The rest of the brief conversation went something like this:
Beachcomber: I wanted to know if you’d be interested in reading some literature discussing the debate over creationism vs. evolution.
ME: And why are you asking me to read it? (I say this politely even though he’s interrupting me).
Beachcomber: What?
ME: What group do you represent that’s interested in having me read this?
Beachcomber: I’m a Jehovah’s Witness.
ME (very matter of fact): I’m against organized religion and I don’t believe in God.
Beachcomber (in a sweet yet condescending tone as if I’m kidding or not certain): You believe in God.
ME (plainly): No, I don’t. In fact (showing him the pile of pages before me) the entire concept of the book I’m writing is based on the failure of all organized religion throughout the ages.
And this is when his face twists, into something from a late night black and white B Horror flick as he searches for just the right words, then howls (totally oblivious to anyone else in the park who’s trying to enjoy their Sunday afternoon), ‘you know what else is a failure! I tell you about one movement that’s failed! Secular humanism! That’s a failure!’
And with that he rips the pamphlet back from my reach, throws it with the rest in his bike basket and makes a move to leave, then turns, eyes of vengeance upon me, and between big breaths screams ‘Communism and Socialism, those are two other failures!’
‘Whatever, Dude. Enjoy your hypocrisy,’ I say casually and wave goodbye and this only pisses him off more. He just stops and turns and glares at me, praying for the skies to open up, for his God to send a sunny day lightening bolt to smite me and I return to my book, to continue the good work, before he continues on to save another filthy soul.
Dear Religion Peddlers,
If you want to talk, let’s talk. I’m always down for a good debate. And if you’re going to interupt me to sell me an afterlife, at least let me peruse it first. Not even the most shady or least savvy of used car dealers will refuse to let you take a test drive, then berate you for not buying.
So until we meet again…
All about now,
Chris K.
