Franz and Charles

Hey blog-viewers!

I’m in the middle of midterms right now, and it’s complete lunacy again. Fortunately, three of my five courses this semester are psych courses, which are not only notoriously easy, but populated with students who really don’t study for any significant amount of time. Despite all of the hectic note-taking and reading that I’ve been occupied with recently, I’ve found the time to listen almost obsessively to my current music faves. I think the greatest of all is Franz Ferdinand’s “You Could Have It So Much Better” (shortened to YCHISMB on lots of sites right now). It’s seriously one of the best sophomore albums ever, especially considering how much I adored their first self-titled record. I was a bit nervous for this record, especially after liking, but not loving, Coldplay’s latest “X &Y.” Although I realize that may seem impossible, YCHISMB is actually even better than the first, with songs reminiscent of the Beatles balanced out by the dance-tastic “Evil and a Heathen” and bouncy riffs of “Outsiders.” According to NME, Alex even missed the two weddings of his band-mates as he was so engrossed in the album-making process this summer.

















My top two picks from this record are “Fade Together” and “Eleanor Put Your Boots On,” both surprisingly tender, and of course lyrically brilliant tracks. “Fade Together” has a floaty sound, and speaks about the sometimes over-intensity of love. It’s a lovely song, with an eerie echoing piano playing throughout and their great delivery of lyrics. “Eleanor Put Your Boots On” is a sweet song, directed to Alex’s über-cool girlfriend Eleanor Friedberger (one half of The Fiery Furnaces”). By the by, Eleanor’s brother Matthew is one of the most eloquent and unintentionally hilarious musicians ever. They were recently interviewed by London’s fabulously liberal/intelligent newspaper The Guardian, and I’ll paste a quote of Matthew’s. You might have to have heard some of The Fiery Furnaces to understand why his descriptions of their music are so ridiculous (yet fittingly appropriate).

"‘A hippopotamus and a wolverine are both strong, domineering mammals,’ he says, waving his hands around excitedly. ‘Ultimately, they are very different - yet they are related. We are like the wolverines, Slayer are the hippos. Both are very exaggerated, primitive albums, for their own particular reasons. Anyway,’ he concludes, ‘this is ultimately a mainstream rock record. Like INXS.’ Eleanor does not look as if she is inclined to agree.”

Back to Franz, they are also super cool guys aside from their magnificent musical talents. Alex even shares my deep love for Charles Bukowski, one of the best poets of the twentieth century. Bukowski was pretty rough around the edges as a heavy drinker and womanizer, but his writing is astonishingly transparent and honest, and his style is fluid and intelligent without any condescension or pretense. Because he writes about his inner thoughts, and observations that no one else writes about, his poetry is strangely pertinent in spite of its harsh criticism and pessimism. He’s such a prolific writer, so there are always more of his anthologies for me to take out from the library. What’s even more impressive about his career is that he started out as a postal worker writing poetry on the side, and eventually wrote for an acquaintance for obscenely low wages (I believe he was on the verge of starvation at some points). Later in his life, Bukowski became pretty popular in the poetry scene, and enjoyed a great deal of attention from his young female audience, some of whom he courted on the side. He eventually married, but continued to write his perceptively candid pieces until his death in the late ’90s.

On an entirely different note, I just got back from decorating cakes with a group of girls from my bible study last night. This was not just spreading icing on a cake that we baked; it was full-fledged “flower/leaf/shells making with the bag” cake-decorating. I decorated a cake as a pumpkin with a coupe of other girls, and I must tell you that it looked awesome! We made the ridges of the pumpkin with black piping, and put really cute vines with leaves all over it. It even tasted delectable! On the opposite end of the taste spectrum, the picture of my complete disgust was taken at my grandma's this past weekend after I had a really sick brandy chocolate. My grandma and grandpa don't drink alcohol (mainly because they think it's a bit hypocritical for a pastor to do so), so they have this huge box of chocolates from their neighbour that they can't eat. I wasn't supposed to look so perturbed, but the flavour of alcohol in the centre was quite alarming. I suppose I just haven't acquired a taste for brandy. Anyhow, I should get some shut-eye before I open the café tomorrow at 5:30 (groan). But maybe, as Bukowski warned, it could be “the last night of the world.”

Happy trails!

It's Been a While

I’ve retuned!

It’s been a long summer and start to a first semester, and I’ve completely neglected this blog. My four month long sojourn from school, by the way, was pretty fabulous. Notable events included new releases from Death Cab for Cutie, Franz Ferdinand, My Morning Jacket, Coldplay, The Decemberists, Broken Social Scene, and Ryan Adams. My family and I hung out in Vancouver and Tofino for a couple of weeks, and I attended the Folk Festival, Fringe, Street Performers’ Festival, and many more yearly must-see cultural events. I also checked out some Formula One Racing that stopped in Edmonton, and it was so incredibly foreign to me! Somehow my sister really got into it, but all I can say I got out of it was the worst sunburn of my life (almost second degree). Of course, with a bit of aloe vera and icing the pain of a burn can be quelled sufficiently, but the extreme redness of my face and arms was the cause of many jokes and comments at work. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life!

During my break from school-prescribed literature, I read two really profoundly deep books: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and 1984 by George Orwell. The former is an empathetic examination of clinical depression and a young woman’s experience in the middle of the previous century. Plath’s writing is so fluid, and remarkably rich with subtle symbolism and imagery. I’ve never really understood what a depressed person felt like, and she made it so vivid and heartrending in her poetic descriptions. 1984 is perhaps a less touching, but rather alarming, examination of repressive societies of a just post-war world. Orwell has a gift of illustrating his concerns through inconceivable and yet entirely credible other-worlds. 1984 is likely the most hopeless novel I’ve ever read, but its intelligence and nuanced examination of political issues was worth the disheartening read. I totally recommend both, despite their melancholy subject matter!

Another suggestion I would make for your personal pleasure would be to check out the atmospheric, although totally non-Canadian, sounds of Boards of Canada. This group has a pretty experimental, maybe indie, approach to its exclusively electronica tracks. Some of their songs, especially those without the somewhat excessive beat tracks, are truly stirring. My favourite is a short piece called “In the Annexe” which totally reminds me of these classic film adaptations from the late ’80s of Canadian short stories put out by the National Film Board of Canada. I must have watched 20 of these videos in my high school English classes, and they never ceased to entertain me! The best feature of these films was their shortsighted use of what would have then been trendy synthesized ambient music, but now sounds dated and absurd. There’s nothing like having a tender moment between two characters interrupted by a cacophony of awkward keyboard cords. Who knows what the incredible Garden State soundtrack will sound like when this generation's children watch the film years from now?

The picture I’ve included is of my sister in our kitchen after my grandma's unbelievably good Thanksgiving dinner last weekend. I think she’s even eating some of my grandma’s tomato harvest (hence the curious bulge in her cheek). I had four dinners during the weekend, likely a record, and it’s a miracle that I didn’t explode. I’m already missing the turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie! My dad (who is a grade 3 teacher) remarked recently that he thought a holiday for giving thanks once a year was really insufficient, and he planned to discuss thankfulness throughout the year with his students. Especially in this year of hurricanes, earthquakes, war, and celebrity-initiated anti-poverty campaigns, it’s so important to count our blessings.

It’s often easy to complain about the unfair taxes we pay or how others have wronged us, but we have relatively infinite resources in this economically and socially polarized world. Amazingly, impoverished people in other countries, particularly in Africa, find joy in seemingly insignificant pleasures. We’ve been discussing Bentham’s ideas on the proportionate happiness that wealth brings the individual in my Poli Sci class, but I genuinely believe that the small pleasures in life and the peace that God grants us are all that’s necessary for us to reach our full “happiness-potential.” Ironically, it’s in the exceedingly hedonistic lifestyles of Western culture that the most apathy and cynicism develop. As we try desperately to achieve that ideal state of happiness, we experience more frustration, disappointment, exhaustion, and emptiness. If only our society could find total contentment in the simple pleasures of life, like star gazing, a beautiful song, or the not-so-simple love of God.

As the Brits quaintly say: cheerio!