Sunday, March 4th, 2007 // Paperhouse
Max Tundra’s 2002 album, Mastered by Guy at the Exchange, (MBGATE) is 40 minutes of a sort of stilted, strange, hyperactive electronic pop, and rapidly became one of my favorite albums (now that I got around to listening to it a couple years late). Funnily enough — as my friends will tell you — I hate lyrics, but I’ve really been enjoying his. They have a wonderful brilliance and intelligence and an incredibly amateur quality, which is kind of confusing at first but becomes endearing.
MBGATE is Tundra at his most austere: “It was some change which came upon me or upon the room/Indescribably subtle, yet momentous, ineffable.” Get out your thesaurus. But then, don’t, because next is “Lysine,” a musing on the importance of that amino acid. There are a few meditations on Tundra’s day jobs (“Lights”) and friends (“Acorns”), and a hilarious song which is simply a request that director Michel Gondry make a video for him (but: “Judging by your clients/’Twould cost a weighty fee/To make me an ‘Around The World’/Or ‘Let Forever Be’”).
However, one topic appears to be the focus. Like seemingly every lyric ever written, Max Tundra’s are all about women. “Cabasa” is the first and most explicit paean:
Thinking back to when I asked Naomi out/Sitting around in a wooden classroom/Planning my line with a friend from Cornwall/Hiding my erection with a book by Morrish/Misread smiles and summer promise/Intervening love between the years/Has made me understand/I’m glad Naomi turned me down.
In “Labial,” about stealing his best friend’s girlfriend, Tundra makes a snide complaint about the other man and reflects on his current situation:
I’d like to be as articulate as Mr. L/Writing songs about Barbara of Seville/Such a wonderful way with a pen when he’s feeling unwell/I only sing about things that happen to me/I never learnt how to fill my songs with allegory/While my peers paid attention in English I thought about how/I could undress that girl who appeared in my life with a pow/Never mind that she slipped from my hand because look at me now.
My favorite moment, though, is the beginning of “Hilted,” yet another song about some girl from his past:
Six seconds in your company makes me feel upset/That I’ve only known you for six seconds yet.
Is it possible to more clearly express the mood of the beginning of a relationship? I don’t think so. Maybe I’m beginning to see what I’ve been missing while I ignored lyrics all this time.
Sunday, February 25th, 2007 // Paperhouse
Sometimes at WRCT we pick up random albums and just take a listen. We were attracted to Kisses and Hugs’s Positive Youth 1994!!! by its amazing and ridiculous yellow cover featuring a black kitten with a horseshoe, a guy in a ski mask, and — most entertainingly — the band members in action; they are obviously nerds. Below is a transcript of our conversation during our first listen through this album.
Alexander Smith: So midway through the second track, “Genital Ben,” I’m already wondering how this dude’s voice hasn’t given out.
Joannie Wu: Are these dudes playing in Josh Atlas’ basement? ’Cause it looks like it. I honestly don’t hear any kazoo, mandolin, or sax, all of which they credit themselves with playing. Huh.
A: Who knows? Okay, now we’re up to “Holy Shit,” which is like 45 seconds long and actually pretty decent. These songs go by quickly.
J: This is like, super speedcore or something. If you play it at 33 instead of 45 it kind of sounds like nu-metal. Hilarious.
A: There goes the A side. The next track is “Fuck Your Speclogics.” Is that a word? I don’t think it’s a word.
J: “Misplaced Suicide Notes” just sounds like nu-metal in general. It’s kind of funny to read their little blurb on the cover hating on screamo [hardcore emo] because when they actually made the album in 1994 this music was still considered “fresh”…Except they just left it under their beds or something for eight years and then decided to do a 500-copy limited vinyl release. Why do we even own this?
A: ’Cause it obviously rules. Also, half of the “thanks to” section on the back says “RIP” next to it. What the hell?
J: Maybe those are old defunct bands that they knew/were a part of. God, Courier is a bad typeface to use.
A: I’m fairly sure this band doesn’t care about design at all. Look at them. Uh, this next song is a Negative Approach cover. But it sounds the same as all the others. Some of these riffs sound kind of like Slayer.
J: Oh! There’s all that kazoo/mandolin/sax shit. Five seconds’ worth.
A: It was a good five seconds, though. And the last track, “Why Do You Insist I Need College To Validate My Life, Fucker?” is like seven seconds long and has only those lyrics. I like it — strong finish for the record.
J: Amazing. It speaks to me.
Sunday, February 18th, 2007 // Paperhouse
I never thought that Jesus had much to do with rock and roll, but according to some, the Good Shepherd intervenes regularly to cut short the sinful lives of some of our best-known and best-loved musical celebrities. Dial-the-Truth Ministries has compiled a list of dead rock stars at www.av1611.org/rockdead.html. The site tracks some 300 rock-star deaths, attributing about half to high-risk behavior like drug use and the remainder to natural causes like heart attacks and leukemia.
The implication is that while some rock stars kill themselves with their lifestyles, many others are struck down by God. According to the site, rock stars live half as long as regular citizens. Preachers have long told us that listening to rock music is playing with fire; this study claims that performing it is stepping directly into the flames.
Even outside of art, early death plays a huge role in Western society. Christianity sticks in our memories in part because of its own early deaths: Jesus ascended into heaven at 33, a full 3.9 years sooner than the average Dial-the-Truth rock star. Sure, there was a vast increase in life expectancy over the millennia — but was it not Jesus’ own lifestyle and celebrity status that brought him before Pontius Pilate?
Of course, there are differences between rock stars and Jesus. I mean only to point out the cultural significance of the demise; how we take an early, unexpected death, and remember it. We try to ascribe the death to cause and effect, try to find reasons why someone died before he or she should have. But coping with an untimely death is different than using it to send a moral message. A person’s life ought to be more than a political or evangelical tool, and those who manipulate the lives of the departed demean both themselves and their faiths. If we were to reduce Jesus’ life to its end, all we would have is a warning against bucking the system, not the rich and diverse set of teachings conveyed through the rest of His life.
Those who believe that rock music is an inherently evil force do not understand that rock music is simply a mode of expression. Just as language can be used both to denounce the Holy Spirit and praise the Lord, electric guitars and robust bass lines can be used for good, evil, or neither. Both religion and music can celebrate what makes us human, albeit in different ways. Rock music at its best articulates what it means to be alive, and in its own way can help us extend beyond our raw animal selves into the world of the mind and spirit.
