“Oh, I’ll break them down, no mercy shown. Heaven knows it’s got to be this time.”
Any New Order cover has, in my honest opinion, been phenomenal. Plus, this is my favorite New Order song. Soundtrack to my life, guys.
Litle known fact: this is actually a cover of New Order’s cover of the song, which was originally performed by Joy Division.
Joy Division, of course, was an earlier iteration of New Order, fronted by lead singer Ian Curtis. When Curtis took his own life, the rest of the band reorganized as New Order.
This was the last song Curtis wrote before he died; only two recordings were made — one of them a bootleg tape of a performance with such bad accoustics that the audio had to be run through a machine to determine the lyrics. The results, it would turn out, are haunting.
Bernard Sumner, Joy Division guitarist and reluctant lead singer of New Order, sings the New Order track, which became their first single released off their first album, Movement.
It’s not that I forget to post here, I just feel like it should, for whatever reason, be really good when I do so. And I pretty much never do anything really good, or am moved by anything, so this field lay fallow.
Kind of like the fields being destroyed in Pom Poko.
Good segue to this, me thinks:
Dude is totally living out every dream I’ve ever had.
A female humpback was spotted in December 2005 east of the Farallon Islands, just off the coast of San Francisco. She was entangled in a web of crab-trap lines, hundreds of yards of nylon rope that had become wrapped around her mouth, torso and tail, the weight of the traps causing her to struggle to stay afloat. A rescue team arrived within a few hours and decided that the only way to save her was to dive in and cut her loose.
For an hour they cut at the lines and rope with curved knives, all the while trying to steer clear of a tail they knew could kill them with one swipe. When the whale was finally freed, the divers said, she swam around them for a time in what appeared to be joyous circles. She then came back and visited with each one of them, nudging them all gently, as if in thanks. The divers said it was the most beautiful experience they ever had. As for the diver who cut free the rope that was entangled in the whale’s mouth, her huge eye was following him the entire time, and he said that he will never be the same.
This feature, in the NYT Mag this weekend, was exactly what I have been needing, craving.
New York City, its lofty towers and crushing reality, is my home, but I have sought more and more to escape, physically and mentally, to a wide open, endless meadow I have dreamed of, or the endless, aquamarine sea I idealized as a kid. Not permanently, of course, but whenever the subway ride or job or angry cab drivers gets me down.
I’ve always anthropomorphized, put personalities and preferences and feelings and souls to animals. Of course, this started before I knew any better, but against my better scientific learning, it has continued.
And now, knowing that the gray whale shows gratitude and forgiveness, and that the killer whale mourns its dead, I know that, as an 8-year old at the Camden aquarium, I was right.
“People like me are aware of their so-called genius at ten, eight, nine…I always wondered, “Why has nobody discovered me?” In school, didn’t they see that I’m cleverer than anybody in this school? That the teachers are stupid too? That all they had was information I didn’t need? […] A couple of teachers would notice me, encourage me to be something or other, to draw or paint—express myself. But most of the time they were trying to beat me into being a fuckin’ dentist or a teacher. And then the fuckin’ fans tried to beat me into being a fuckin’ Beatle or an Engelbert Humperdinck, and the critics tried to beat me into being Paul McCartney.”
— John Lennon Rolling Stone, January 21, 1971
I’ve been on a crazy Lennon kick the last few days — I woke up with Oh Yoko! stuck in my head, and that was that.
This happens to me a few times a year — a testament to his staying power, relevance, and my inherent attraction to his life and words.
This time, though, I plan on taking this opportunity to really learn more about him. Downloaded his entire solo discography last night, and plan on investing in some books tonight.
There’s a reason I’ve had this itch. Time to scratch it.
And as I write this, “Watching The Wheel” comes on Pandora. A favorite of mine from his solo days. Perfect.
Wow, I haven’t been here in a while. It’s amazing the tiny barriers that keep me from any sort of productivity. The fact that I have to click on the name of this blog in my Tumblr dashboard, before I even get to the tall task of putting myriad thoughts into actual words, is often enough to keep me from writing.
Also, watching full ALF episodes on Hulu at work. That is a bit of a timeawesome (like a timesuck, but awesomely spent).
- Accused cheater (a baseball friend told me he kept Vaseline under his tongue, so that every time he went to his mouth, which happened after every pitch, he was doctoring the ball to get that voodoo spin)
- GOP member
Yeah, that’s a pretty damn complete list. What a loathesome individual.
On the Michael Jackson news, I’ve been watching nonstop coverage of his death, and two things stick out.
One, the outpouring of plaudits for MJ from other musicians, calling him an inspiration and great and all those true things. Beautiful sentiment, all of it, and totally true — the man has all four faces on the Mount Rushmore of pop (quite literally and figuratively). His talent is what some would call otherworldly, and sometimes, listening and watching, I think perhaps it really did come from another planet, so grand was its scope.
But my question is, where were they through the years when he was being dragged through the mud? Not that some of it wasn’t his own doing (ignoring for a moment the unavoidable context of his childhood et al), but for all the praise and hyperbole, none of these musicians who claim Michael as an inspiration were anywhere to be found over the last few years. You know, when it mattered, when the loneliest man in the world could have used some friends.
Believe me, I know why they did, or didn’t, do it. There would be nothing to gain, and, let’s be honest, MJ’s stock had fallen further than GM’s. And I’m not a sycophantish and blind fan — I know what he most likely did with children, and know that he was bizarre and troubled. I just can’t help but believe he was so messed up mentally, though, that I see him as a victim, too, and so the lack of celebrity help when he needed it disturbs me.
On a lighter note: watch those old videos. Yeah, his voice was perfect, but even more impressive? His dancing. The way that his legs moved was in no way human.
I’m meditating on this, and will have more to say tomorrow.
“So, what we have is one perfectly good party for hedge fund managers, credit card companies, banks, defense contractors, big agriculture and the pharmaceutical lobby; that’s the Democrats. And they sit across the aisle from a small group of religious lunatics, flat-earth-ers and Civil War re-enactors who mostly communicate by AM radio and call themselves the Republicans. And who actually worry that Obama is a socialist. Socialist? He’s not even a liberal. I know he’s not because he’s on TV. And while I see Democrats on television, I don’t see actual liberals. And if occasionally you do get to hear Ralph Nader or Noam Chomsky or Dennis Kucinich, they’re treated like buffoons. Okay, these are not three of the world’s most charismatic men, but then nobody is going to confuse Newt Gingrich for Zac Efron. And I have to look at his fat face on TV more often than that free credit report song. Shouldn’t there be one party that unambiguously supports cutting the military budget, a party that is straight up in favor of gun control, gay marriage, higher taxes on the rich, universal health care—legalizing pot—and steep, direct taxing of polluters? These aren’t radical ideas. A majority of Americans are either already for them or would be if they were properly argued and defended.”
I know that it was done in a shitty Robin Williams movie, but can this guy run for office? Not that I’m stepping up to the plate (though, at 23, I have an excuse), but why is that the smartest people are the ones lobbing bombs from the outside?
I love what Bill Maher stands for, and I think he’s fucking hilarious. The problem is, people with his values and brains, they don’t go into politics — they make money in comedy or technology, and then when they try to make a difference, they find the gates are closed.
Here’s the real issue: fighting for these beliefs, as a politician or DC player, is in no way monetarily rewarding, or, let’s face it, fun. Those in the corporate corner get all the perks: the cocktail parties, the big fundraisers, the illegal vacations to Scotland. Co-Ops and unions, as much as I love them, don’t give those out.
So it’s the conservative brains (you can be smart and a fucking idiot) that end up in DC, soaking in all the sin of power. The liberal brains are in NY and LA, having fun and sinning, but ethically.
This is why I’m so impressed with Al Franken. Senator Al Franken, thank you very fucking much.
