Lullaby

My friend Jeff and I used to escape the campus of Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon by walking to the bus stop for Tri-Met line 57.  It was the final stop about 25 miles west of Portland.  We’d grab as much change as we could and try to get to Portland to visit cool record stores and such, despite the hour and a half trip each way.  If we had less time, or patience, we’d ride the 16 or so miles into Beaverton and go to Tower Records.  We needed to feel civilization.  Being on a small college campus in an isolated town that didn’t want to have anything to do with the college students back in 1989/90 was a little claustrophobic.  There was little to do, so we invented our own fun, and minor escapes.  During our treks to the bus stop near the mini mart and the Vac & Sew storefront, we generally sang exaggerated versions of songs that would pop into our heads. 

 

One of those songs was The Cure’s “Lullaby.”  It was never a huge favorite of mine from their catalogue, but our overly breathy version was, well, it was a thing.  The combination of the exaggerated gasping whispers and the attempts to stifle our laughter while performing this song for our own entertainment would lead to near hyperventilation.  If it wasn’t “Lullaby,” it might’ve been “Fire in Cairo,” or “Party of the First Part,” or “Debaser,” or “Cuts You Up,” for which I was convinced I had perfected the Peter Murphy croon, but I’m sure in reality I sounded more like a dying harbor seal barking out my misery.  Then there was the Jesus and Mary Chain’s “Sidewalking,” which included our repeating howls of “chilled to the bone” and an impossible contorted stroll that can only be described as a silly walk – Monty Python-style.  I would say, “You had to be there,” but it still likely would not have made any sense.  None of it ever made sense, but I will never forget those mini adventures and the laughs.

I woke up from a short fit of sleep recently having dreamt of spider webs.  They were everywhere.  Thick and sticky.  In my eyes and mouth.  Surrounding me enough to make me believe that a giant spider or a gang of ambitious regular sized spiders were hunting me.  I could feel the webs in my mouth and sticking to every part of my body as I tried to force my way through them.  There were layers and layers.

 

Legend has it that one of Robert Smith’s uncles would tell him nightmarish bed time stories about a spiderman that would eat sleeping children.  Was the “Spiderman” from “Lullaby” coming for me after all these years for making fun of the song? 

“On candy stripe legs the spiderman comes

Softly through the shadow of the evening sun

Stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead

Looking for the victim shivering in bed

Searching out fear in the gathering gloom and

Suddenly a movement in the corner of the room

And there is nothing I can do

When I realize with fright

That the spiderman is having me for dinner tonight”

I look back at those days with bewilderment.  I was fairly healthy and one of my biggest fears at that time was sleeping through my 8:30 am classes at college.  Sure, life wasn’t always fun and games, but a lot of my needs were met, I had new friends, my small insular world was expanding, and there wasn’t a lot of outside pressure.

Generally, I’m not one to read a lot into dreams.  If I’m dreaming about looking for a bathroom then, yes, I likely need to pee in real life and should wake up.  In this case though, the imagery is not lost on me.  I’m pretty sure that those webs represent my own inhibitions and shields that I’ve continued to build and maintain throughout my life. 

I’ve always been slow to trust and very wary of trying new things, especially if there’s potential danger.  And by danger, I mean everything from falling from a tree fort, or flying off jumps on my first dirt bike, to opening myself up for emotional damage from failed relationships.  For the most part, I’ve kept to myself, which has always felt safer and frankly, comfortable.  It can get lonely sometimes, but I’m not so bad at keeping myself company most of the time.  As a kid, I never fully embraced being away from home.  Never felt comfortable sleeping over anywhere.  I preferred spending time with friends and then going home.  I’m still that way.

After years of medical issues that have caused a lot of damage, I am feeling like I’ve isolated myself into a deep, dark hole full of those sticky webs that will not allow me to escape.  It’s frustrating, because I’ve been this way for so long, that I am not sure how to remedy this self-entrapment.  The older and unhealthier I get, the more I realize that I cannot do this alone anymore.  I need help, but I don’t know specifically what help I need or how to ask.  I feel like I’ve alienated a lot of friends who have offered help, by declining, but I do not know how to relinquish control of every aspect of my being, or what to ask for, and I don’t know how accept the idea that I’m anything but a nuisance or burden, if I reach out for help.  Pride is a bitch.

 

Self-hatred would likely have happened anyway, but it took a dark turn after having a few serious abdominal surgeries before I turned 20.  I do not feel proud of my scars like well-adjusted people do for having toughed things out.  I feel mutilated like some sort of Frankenstein’s Monster.  Back then though, I suppose I had enough belief that eventually I’d pull myself free of my self-imposed shackles and not be ashamed of my physical being.  It has never happened.  Shame and embarrassment has only expanded with age and numerous hardcore medications.  Steroids, chemo drugs, immune suppressants, and numerous cholesterol and blood pressure medications have helped me morph into some kind of pale doughy crippled Sasquatch.  I feel humiliated.  Ashamed.  I could go on and on.

 

Shit.  This got dark real quick. 

What I’m trying to say is that I think this dream led me to some self-reflection and a full honest realization of how I’ve sabotaged myself over the years as part of my unfortunate lifelong unhealthy journey.  Emotionally, I do not know how to handle it anymore.  My poor social skills have caught up with me leading to isolation and difficulty navigating some of the few friendships I have remaining.  I spend so much time with medical professionals that they have essentially become my social circle, which is incredibly unhealthy.  When I move on from a physical therapist or a specialist having completed some kind of arbitrarily sanctioned insurance coverage.  I get incredibly sad, because these people are no longer part of my life.  

As I mentioned above, I seem to reject offers of help.  I do not know what to ask for, and by the time I do have a specific need, I struggle to send out a request, nor do I want to give up control and my privacy.  The nature of my health issues stems from a genetic disorder that never seems to end, as long as I keep surviving.  So, the same things that were making my life hell in 1991, are still affecting me – only it’s expanded and become more all-encompassing.  I feel embarrassed and reluctant to keep complaining to those I love about the same old shit.  Nothing has changed.  The disorder is unrelenting.  I often get “what now?” reactions when I attempt to communicate my problems to others.  How do I make it clear that I live with this stuff every day and have most of my life?  It doesn’t go away.  It is a part of who I am. 

What’s funny is that intellectually I recognize that I self-shame myself into oblivion.  I am proud of my survival on a certain level.  Not a level that’s high enough for me to prevent me from feeling like a waste and a failure.  I can recognize this kind of defeatist attitude in others when they manifest it and I can come up with compelling arguments as to why they shouldn’t punish themselves that way.  Apparently, these arguments do not apply to me.  Is it possible to turn things around?  Is it possible to undo a lifetime of mental sabotage?  Is it possible to fend off the spiderman?  Do I want to fend off the spiderman, or do I want to give up?

 

Piqued

 

Jeffrey Runnings

Piqued

(Independent Project)

Apologies in advance for this self-indulgent opening.  My introduction to Jeffrey Runnings’ music happened late in 1990 via his incredible US postpunk band For Against.  Runnings was their vocalist and bassist and their only consistent member from 1984-2009.  I had heard of For Against, but had not heard them.  I remember reading a brief write up about a 10” EP release that was hyper limited.  Everything about it intrigued me, but I kind of assumed I would never run across it due to its limited nature.  Lucky that we had Ooze Records – a small record shop just off Burnside in SW Portland.  It was an amazing store that looked like it had been a former one chair barber shop.  At that time they seemed to carry everything that I could ever be interested in.  They had that For Against In the Marshes 10” EP.  It stood out.  The cover had a green image looking up through trees.  It had a similar quiet beauty that I loved about New Order’s album art – a band I purchased originally unheard and based on record sleeve design alone, before discovering their prior incarnation as Joy Division and their even better cover designs.   In other words, the packaging evoked the same kind of artistic spirit as UK record labels such as 4AD and Factory, both of whom I essentially worshipped.  This was different though.  I was in love with the otherworldly aesthetic that these labels put into their designs, and this was on an LA based label: Independent Project Records.  That otherworldly aspect was not just the beautiful design and packaging.  The six songs on the EP were incredibly special.  Upon first listen, I felt completely transported.  There were postpunk songs like “Amnesia” and “Amen Yves” that captured both a pop sensibility and a certain dark and mysterious intensity kind of like Movement era New Order.  However, it was the more experimental mostly instrumental tracks that struck me the most.  “Tibet” and “The Purgatory Salesman” had an atmosphere that melted into my psyche and transported me to the nether regions of my imagination.  It reminded me of 4AD’s Dif Juz, but better and more impactful.  I played this combination of songs over and over again!

 

 In the Marshes was a total music game changer for me.  This release was the first entry into Independent Project’s Archive Series.  The Archive Series was to be a monthly subscription of releases collecting previously unheard recordings by IPR related artists - none of whom I was familiar with.  These records would all be immaculately packaged in limited number editions with artistic sleeves on 10” colored vinyl.  This not only enticed my ever-expanding search for great under heard music, but my collector nerd desires.  I immediately and impatiently subscribed and was assigned my own number for each release (0340).  All of the Archive Series releases that ensued over the following few years are priceless treasures both as visual art pieces, but as mind expanding music!  Those records are very personal to me, and they introduced me to artists that I still treasure to this day.  These transactions only intensified my desire and interest in music.  It was through this new connection learned about the incredible NY band Springhouse (IPR’s founder Bruce Licher designed their debut album’s cover art), which then led me to their drummer’s long time music fanzine The Big Takeover, whose bi-annual epic tomes still inform my musical journey in 2025.  When I say this was a game changer, I mean it.  That curious purchase of In the Marshes planted a seed that truly expanded my horizons for good.

Piqued is Jeffrey Runnings’ second solo effort and sadly his last.  Runnings passed away earlier this year and this album is a posthumous release and an amazing tribute to his impressive legacy.  For Against, out of Nebraska, were an oddity.  A rare UK inspired postpunk band who created dense tension filled emotive songs that masterfully encapsulated a dream pop accessibility and an experimental melancholy that rivaled anything their influences doled out.  Their eight albums were all incredible, and in my opinion, their final two (Shade Side Sunny Side 2008; Never Been 2009) proved to be among their best.  Runnings reappeared with his first solo effort in 2016 with Primitives and Smalls, an album that never worked for me.  There’s definitely promise in those songs, but the recordings felt like they needed his band to flesh them out and give them depth.  To be honest it was an unsatisfying LP coming from an artist I had admired for so long.

 

That’s part of why Piqued is such a bittersweet album.  It’s as if Runnings had found his footing again as an artist after giving up his musical ambitions and recording songs at home for himself.  The wonderful tribute essay by Camilla Aisa included in this stunning IPR letterpress package details how Runnings had been on a life long journey to find certain simple sounds that evoke the most feeling.  This is what drew me so strongly to the esoteric side of In the Marshes.  I feel a kinship with his sound goals, as a listener.  Runnings employs older recording equipment here and the result sounds completely unique in the best of ways.  This mostly instrumental collection is captivating.  The songs sound well-worn and dusty, instead of sounding crisp, clean and pristine like so many instrumental recordings, these songs sound well-worn, disheveled, and even murky at times.  It all sounds so human.  This aesthetic boosts these tracks with character, mystery, and depth.  They make me want to know more.  As I mentioned above, they capture my imagination, drawing me into their unspoken stories.

“Batman Forever” was the first song presented after Runnings’ passing, and to be honest, I was a little wary – worried that it would sound incomplete.  However, instead it is a quiet statement of love and trust as he repeats “You’re the one I want to be there.”  It’s quite touching and listening to it now is bringing a lot of heavy emotions to the surface.  The other vocal song “Heretofore” is one of his great For Against style songs that is both catchy and deeply evocative.

My favorites of the instrumentals are “Threadbare” and its dirty sounding drum machine beat underneath washes of uncomfortable sounds; and “Failed Rescue Attempt,” which has a quiet intensity that is disconcerting, yet endlessly intriguing.  I enjoy his use of piano throughout, as his mournful keystrokes provide a powerful mystique to songs like “Glorious Grey” and “Elegy.”

This is not your usual instrumental style album.  Piqued is unique.  To some it may sound rough, but to me it sounds like adventure, exotic locations, and interesting dreams.  I feel close to these songs, because they feel like they are what I would want to create, if I had even a smidgeon of talent.  Plus I feel a heavy nostalgia thinking back to that discovery of For Against nearly 35 years ago and how important that mind and life expanding charge that followed really was. 

(https://jeffreyrunnings.bandcamp.com/album/piqued)

(For Against: https://foragainst.bandcamp.com/?search_item_id%3D1719706806%26search_item_type%3Db%26search_match_part%3D%253F%26search_page_id%3D4652100611%26search_page_no%3D0%26search_rank%3D1=)

 

Jeffrey Runnings "Heretofore"

Swing the Heartache

 

Bauhaus

Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions

(Beggars Banquet 1989)

Bauhaus, the 1979-1983 UK post punk band is largely credited with being one of the founders of the Gothic Rock movement.  Their 1979 debut single, “Bela Lugosi’s Dead,” is likely the main reason.  This nine-plus minute epic of dark low end bass strikes and Peter Murphy’s haunting repetitive chants of “oh Bela” and “undead” provided the groundwork for some creepy shit.  It’s funny to me that though they can easily be seen as forefathers of the Gothic Rock movement, I’ve not really ever thought of them in those terms.  It reminds me of a portion of writer Chuck Klosterman’s 2016 non-fiction book But What if We’re Wrong?  Forgive me if I misrepresent this, since it’s been nine years since I’ve read the book, but I seem to remember a section discussing the way history can be interpreted in different ways.  How things get condensed.  Who will be remembered most from 20^th century rock-n-roll?  The Beatles?  Elvis Presley?  The Rolling Stones?  What about the other several thousand artists that made massive cultural impacts?  Who might be most remembered forty years from now, as time and perspectives change and fade?  I’ve noticed the phenomenon for years, once the oldies, classic rock, and 70s & 80s radio formats began popping up on the AM/FM dials, and even now over streaming services.  For example, 80s new wave band the Thompson Twins had seven top 40 hits in the US.  Once the 80s became a genre, that band was reduced to only one hit: “Hold Me Now.”  I bring this up, because recently I put Bauhaus’ 1989 collection of BBC Radio recordings (Swing the Heartache) into my listening pile, and I find that it still sounds fresh, creative, and exciting.  Bauhaus were not a band to be pigeon-holed to the point of cliché.  I’m not going to argue that they were not Goth Rock founders.  They definitely embraced the sound, visuals, and aesthetic of the macabre and the occult.  The wonderful album cover for Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions, looks up at an old spiral staircase surrounded by peeling painted walls with a ghostly figure ascending the stairs, which evokes their ghostly debut single.  However, the music and performances inside show a highly varied creative band who were willing to have fun and experiment and take chances. 

My introduction to Bauhaus was via my long time friend Wil.  I think it was 1985, and I was staying over at his family’s place.  We were a couple of 14 year olds chatting about our burgeoning musical discoveries late at night in his basement bedroom.  Wil put on his recently secured 12” single by Bauhaus named “She’s in Parties” on the turntable.  I had never heard of them, and Wil pronounced their name as “The Bajas” – as in Baja, California.  “She’s in Parties” was mildly intriguing.  To be honest, I wasn’t really sure what I felt about it at first listen.  It was different from that stuff from the predominantly hit radio I was used to.  Yet, when he excitedly flipped the record over to the B-side, I heard what sounded like a ping pong ball bouncing as a beat (or water dripping from a faucet into a tub), a walking bass-line and a British accented voice mumbling a surreal story and it was captivating!  This strange song was creepy and fun, and different than anything that I had ever heard and yet I identified with it.  The line “even the wallpaper had become sinister to him” crept into my psyche, because I had always been very emotionally effected by my surroundings, and had often contemplated why certain colors have made me uncomfortable. 

 

A few years later, I learned more about the band, and how to pronounce their name, and how they took their moniker from an early 20^th century German architectural school/movement.  I finally purchased a new CD single re-release of their first single “Bela Lugosi’s Dead.”  I loved it, but honestly its length was daunting.  Its atmosphere was heavy, so I understood where the “I fart bats” Gothic reputation had come from.  At the same time, I recognized it as a twisted type of Dub.  The delay and echo reminded more of sunshiny beaches of Jamaica, than towering castles and bat caves.  Still, I wanted to hear more.

 

It wasn’t until the summer of 1989 that I finally purchased one of Bauhaus’ full length CDs.  It was Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions, which is a compilation and not one of their proper planned albums.  By that time, I was already fully immersed and fascinated by BBC Radio sessions.  Certain BBC Radio DJ’s would commission bands to record songs especially for their radio shows.  These sessions were done quickly, so they are a perfect balance between hearing a band live with the sonic clarity of a studio recording, so they are often illuminating and livelier than the more well-known versions from albums.  Bauhaus chose to use these sessions to record covers of other artist’s songs, experiment, and stretch their creativity.  I purchased this CD, because it had their cover of David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” and that weird “Departure.”  I cannot emphasize enough how often I’ve listened to this collection that summer.  It wasn’t long before I knew every nuance of every song and repeatedly found myself driving off the road as I blasted “Ziggy” while air drumming.  It wasn’t long before I secured the band’s four albums (at that time).  Though, I enjoy all of those albums (especially The Sky’s Gone Out, 1982), they never hit me like this collection.

 

By late August of that year, I found myself in a dorm room at a small town college I had almost randomly chosen at the last moment.  I had only a few of my of couple hundred CD collection with me.  I had little in common with my new roommates, it was uncomfortably hot and smelled like a cow pasture everywhere I went.  I was lying on my back reading a heavy, outrageously expensive science textbook for a class that was required, yet had no interest in.   A high school teacher had taught me to read lying on my back, because if I start to get sleepy, the book will fall on my face as I drift off.  Let’s just say that I was getting beat up pretty good.  Suddenly, I heard the opening notes of Bauhaus’ “God in an Alcove” come drifting through my dorm room wall.  At first I only recognized it as a welcome diversion to the monotony, until I realized that someone I didn’t know was playing a song that I had been obsessed with for the past several weeks.

“God in an Alcove” from Bauhaus’ embryonic BBC recording for legendary DJ John Peel is so alive with energy and mystery.  Daniel Ash’s spindly guitar and the brothers Haskins’ (David J bass and Kevin Haskins drums) unveiling rhythm flows into Peter Murphy’s rich dual vocals, which bounce around at you from all angles, as two different narrators.  I dare you not to be drawn in by the insanity as Murphy repeats “I feel silly” in various voices.  The song rocks with that blistering guitar in the bridge that explodes from the meandering build up.  What a masterfully dramatically structured song!   It was the first time that I ever thought of them as a regular rock band.  This is from their first radio session in 1980, which also includes a cover of T. Rex’s “Telegram Sam,” which expertly alters the guitar riff that T Rex had recycled from his hit “Bang a Gong (Get it On)” and Bauhaus puts the song into overdrive.  There are four covers in this five session 18 song collection.  The afore mentioned cover of Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” is likewise injected with some punk energy.  Providing a very accurate cover with more urgency and spunk and a top 20 UK chart single.  Apparently at the time, critics accused Bauhaus of mining some of glam rock’s greats, so they embraced it and steered into the curve and covered these essential classics.  Bauhaus’s “Third Uncle” cover may not be as edgy and obtuse as Brian Eno’s original, but it has a frenetic energy that takes it to another level.  The final cover is “Night Time” by The Strangeloves a mid-60.s fake pop band, who also hit with “I Want Candy” later made famous by Bow Wow Wow in the early 80s.  This cover is very faithful to the original, and has never captured my attention in any way.  I feel like I knew of the song prior via a TV beer commercial when I was a toddler.

 When I heard “A God in an Alcove” through my dorm room wall, I moved unconsciously like a cobra being drawn to sway by a snake charmer.  I wandered to my neighbor’s door and knocked.  Turns out it was Jeff.  We had met via the University’s strange summer camp inspired freshman orientation week.  We were both in the same group of roughly eight students each all named after animals.  We were the turkeys, and we took on the identity of the loser group.  We weren’t the lions, or the gorillas, we were awkward birds that can drown by rain.  Jeff and I are still friends after all of these years.  We bonded through our music tastes and a shared sense of absurdity.  Speaking of absurd, “Departure” and its strange narrative is paired with “Party of the First Part,” which Jeff and I still quote to this day.  The swing jazz background music sets the stage for another age old cautionary tale for someone selling their soul to the devil for personal gain in the short-term.  This tale is courtesy of the 30 minute Canadian children’s cartoon “The Devil & Danial Mouse.”  The story lays out perfectly with the over-the-top Devil voice.  It’s like the band were watching this cartoon in the studio, while adding the laid back instrumental, and funny tongue-in-cheek sounds like the slide whistle and the “aaaah” chorus when Jan Mouse says “I trust you” to B.L. Zebub, along with their general chatter calling it “absurd” and “silly.”  Still there’s never a time that I don’t want to hear this song.

 

This refreshing collection also works as a “greatest hits.”  So many of their best known songs are here in their most inspired and earliest form.  This is where their power as a collective band is at its strongest.  Bauhaus seemed to agree with this, as they sometimes used these radio session versions on their albums.  Peter Murphy’s vocals throughout are more unhinged and exciting, especially in the first couple of sessions as in the “I dare you” shouts in “Double Dare” and the grinding workout of “In the Flat Field.”  Musically as well, this quartet were tight.  Everything falls into place, as the guitars squall and blister atop incredible bass-lines and incredibly creative drumming.  The album version of “St. Vitus Dance” sounds almost cartoonish next to the more alive dissonance of the radio session version.  This collection includes many of their best known songs such as “Silent Hedges,” “She’s in Parties,” and “Terror Couple Kill Colonel,” but don’t overlook the waltz of “The Three Shadows Part 2,” and the high drama of “Swing the Heartache,” which in my opinion is far superior to the slower LP version.  Plus, is it just me or is the paranoia of “The Spy in the Cab,” especially prescient.  Peter Murphy’s performance is not only astounding, it’s much more relevant now than it was in January of 1980: “A Twenty four hour unblinking watch / Installed to pry / Installed to cop.” 

Whatever the case, it’s a shame that this Bauhaus collection has fallen mostly out of sight.  It isn’t easy to find, yet it might be their best and most vital release.  It displays their ability to transcend genres and it also feels like they had a blast recording these songs.  The sense of freedom is palpable.  There is no second guessing here, which infuses these songs with a fun exuberance that is addictive.  There will never be a time that Swing the Heartache: The BBC Sessions will not be essential listening. 

 

Bauhaus "Ziggy Stardust"

Tourist

 

Fragile Animals

Tourist EP

(self released)

Earlier this month, Brisbane Australia’s Fragile Animals released this wonderful long awaited six song EP.  I say long awaited because I’ve been listening to their 2023 debut album Slow Motion Burial in my car all summer so far.  That album is so big and bright and exciting that the anticipation for more has been off the charts.  Their music is incredibly polished and they sound like a veteran band, though their first release was, I believe, in 2017.  I suppose that makes them fairly veteran, please excuse my old age, where years feel like months.  My first conscious exposure to Fragile Animals was with their 2019 “Waiting” single.  They remind me a band I would’ve flipped over in the early 90s, as they utilize the LOUD-quiet-LOUD technique of song dynamics, and find a remarkable balance of edginess and tension versus clarity, anthemic hooks, and catchiness.  The massive album closer “Breathe Out and In” from Slow Motion Burial could’ve fit seamlessly next to 90s bands like cranberries, Belly, Radiohead, Whipping Boy and the like on a really good alternative radio station or mix-tape. 

First of all, Tourist, is so perfectly recorded and mixed that it sounds amazing on any kind of audio player at any volume.  Every instrument is crystal clear and vibrant and balanced.  And speaking of that fictional 90s alternative radio station, Fragile Animals would sound especially dramatic on a high watt FM broadcast!  It’s difficult for me to imagine that a band this put together is only a minor known blip in the vast sea of independent artists.  They write sturdy timeless songs that can easily match or exceed a lot of better known bands.  Their music NEEDS to be heard and shared.

The first single, “Worldview,” from Tourist is actually an older track from their 2019 EP, the ambitiously titled Only Shallow/Only More.  The urgency of “Worldview” is palpable, as the persistent beat pulses together with a mid-range bass-line.  While the searing guitars bring the dissonance.  Victoria Jenkins sings about wanting to understand the picture.  The good and the bad or indifferent sides of humanity – not the curated glimpses of some random viewpoint of an organization or government.  Or even from an individual standpoint of social media, where people only posts their good moments, for example. 

Fragile Animals "Worldview"

There’s a pretty consistent theme throughout touching on uncertainty caused by the sheer amount of us out there, and not knowing what do believe, which can lead to isolation, and more uncertainty or less understanding.  The opening “People I’ll Never Know” is a minute of quiet music and reflection whose lyrics read like someone being so overwhelmed that they can no longer go on.  The title track is a glorious chiming dose of excellent dreampop which finds us looking for a partner, yet unsure of our instincts in recognizing what’s real and what’s not.  The dramatic cymbal crashes throughout make me wonder how they didn’t shatter or stay upright.  “Sending Flares” is another tale about seeking connection, but the sing-along chorus (“freezing to the bone”) reveals the truth that one can still feel alone whether with someone or not.

The second half begins with “Into It” A downtempo reflection lamenting the loss of innocence and how jaded we become as we get exposed to hate and the ugliness of the world.  The crushing finale is “Allergic,” which tells the conflicting emotions of possibly being a caretaker of a loved one.  Feeling lost.  Feeling claustrophic.  Nowhere to turn.  “I can’t change it!”  The music is again urgent, intense, and kind of perfect.

When I mentioned above about hearing songs like these on broadcast radio, I realize that’s a dated concept.  Most people no longer listen to the radio.  Yet I lament that bands with such extremely palatable music like this one and last year’s Attic Ocean EP, or the brand new Bleach Lab EP should be relegated to the deep underground.  It’s a crime if you ask me.  Fragile Animals are continuing to improve with each release, and that’s an unbelievably difficult feat.  Hoping there’s new LP on its way soon.  I cannot recommend this enough!

(https://fragileanimals.bandcamp.com/)

Fragile Animals "Tourist"

Only When I Sleep

 

These Sleeping Hands

Only When I Sleep

(self-released)

London band These Sleeping Hands released their debut album Only When I Sleep a month a ago and it quickly became a favorite, but it was a surprise.  I first heard their song “Starfall” via streaming radio station DKFM (DJ Amber Crain specifically) and I really liked it.  To me, in that blind moment, it had a classic dream pop sound.  I liked it enough to briefly peruse each song on the album via their Bandcamp page.  It all sounded good, so I purchased the download.  However, once I actually took the time to give the album a close listen, it didn’t sound much like the early impression I had.  

“Starfall” is a bright, shiny, catchy pop tune, but not in the way I first believed.  It’s also heavy and dense.  The bass guitar rumbles and a thick fuzz moves the song from verse to chorus with intensity and purpose.  The vocals are buried in this mix and become more of an atmospheric and melodic element, yet it’s done in a way that feels exactly right.  I’m not sure what I first heard before in those early introductions.  Instead of the sweet candy tunes of say early Lush that I imagined, These Sleeping Hands have a lot more in common with Slow Crush without the heavy metal-isms.  I would be happy with either direction.  It’s a mystery at how much I mischaracterized them, but it goes to show how easy how easy it is to misjudge a band or artist by rushing through and not really listening. 

“Puddles” is far from a pop tune with its dark crawling sound that hints at Slowdive with its broken air compressor sound and comforting warmth.  It kind of reminds me of the peace within noise from Sonic Youth’s “Providence.”  There are three instrumental tracks here too.  The opening “Longing & Aching” is simply a wash of sound that intensifies for its minute of duration.  However, “Can’t Stop Now Kid” and “Blissful” are huge triumphs and highlights.  The best rock instrumentals have heavy doses of dramatics and dynamics to insure that we don’t miss the vocals and these two both bring those in spades.  “Can’t Stop Now Kid” highlights some amazing heavily reverbed almost bluesy e-bowed guitar passes on top of restless rises and falls of the unrelenting rhythm section, while “Blissful” comes in with an epic darkness and builds momentum as its trudging roar slowly increases in volume and density.  Both of these songs provide wonderful visuals for the mind to get lost in.

The LP’s heart lies from “Ruby Had a Mirror” (track three) to “Beyond” (track six).  “Ruby Had a Mirror” has a melancholic unchanging kind of vibe with unusual feedback howls painting an abstract journey through the song.  Then “Starfall” comes in with its soaring majesty, followed by the stellar “Can’t Stop Now Kid,” which reminds me of one of my all-time favorite rock instrumentals “Awesome Sky” by postpunk band Moving Targets, and then lastly, is “Beyond,” which might be the most shoegazey with its Labradford like haze of drone, the burbling bassline, and beautiful vocals giving the song its melodic direction.  Every song is great here.  I love the twin songs “Nighthawks” and  “Broken Hearts Club” that bookend what would be side two providing a unity to the proceedings.

Although I appreciate the brevity of these songs, many of them beg for more space.  Grander finishes.  To me, “Beyond” could go on forever, and there are other moments that feel like they end a bit abruptly.  This is a minor issue though.  When I said before that this album was not like what I imagined, it was a pleasant surprise.  I think that it has a stronger impact than what my initial impression was.  This is definitely worth one’s time and hopefully a band to follow in the future! 

(https://thesesleepinghands.bandcamp.com/album/only-when-i-sleep)

The Honeythief

 

The year was 1986.  Having typed that, I immediately envision myself wearing an Abraham Lincoln get up and holding a book in the crutch of my arm tightly to my chest.  Some details are hazy, but at the time, I was really getting into music, but still mostly relying on Commercial Hit Radio for my music discoveries.  I was beginning to seek more into the nooks and crannies that year, yet some hit songs poked through.  Some of my friends and I all liked the moderate hit song “The Honeythief” by Scottish group Hipsway.  I liked the groovy guitar and it was fun to sing along with, despite the creepy Lolita-esque lyrics.  I wound up purchasing the 12” single, while my friend Matt bought the full album on cassette.  He liked it and loaned it to me, espousing the song “Long White Car.”  I agreed it was a good song and that the album was alright.  I honestly only remember “The Honeythief” at this point, which was they’re only hit US single.

 

The Portland hit radio station Z100 began advertising a concert for Hipsway in town, where their sponsorship provided really cheap tickets.  A bunch of us secured tickets and all piled into Matt’s father’s van (none of us kids could drive yet) and he drove us from the Oregon coast to Portland for a day of downtown hijinks and a late evening concert.  In retrospect, I do not know how our parents put up with this crap:  trucking us morons around for these long distance trips to concerts, yet I am thankful they did.  The concert was at The Starry Night club off of NW Burnside.  It is now The Roseland Theatre and remains essentially the same, except now there’s a different entrance full of insane security measures.  Then, one only needed to show a ticket (pre-barcode) to get in the door and walk up those stairs to the second floor into the smoky venue.  An old square venue where the all ages dancefloor fronted the stage, while above was a balcony for the 21+ crowd.  All being fairly new to the live music experience most of us bolted to the front of the stage eager to see the bands perform.  Bill split off to bum smokes.

 

The tenuous reason why I am relaying this story is why this strange top 40 sanctioned show still stands out against the hundreds of incredible bands I’ve seen over the years since.  The crowd was so incredibly diverse and The Starry Night was packed.  Despite being a Z100 event, the crowd was full of punks and goths – more in one place than I’ve ever seen since, and I’ve seen a lot of punk and goth shows, which have both been favorite sub-genres of mine.  Of course there were other teenage white generic nerds like us as well as poofed hair teen girls in their finest shiny blouses buttoned all the way up with big oval brooches.  There were older looking guys there who looked mean, like all record store employees at the time.  The sheer amount of smoke in the venue was astonishing.  The sweet smell of cloves was exotic and alluring.

 

My friend Ryan and I were at the front of center stage as the opening act, Hypertension, eased into position and the house lights turned off.  Hypertension at that time were an 80s cover band with some similarly styled originals, who seemed to be the house band for Z100 events (where was the Z100 mascot: The Jammin’ Salmon?).  I don’t remember much, except for the repeated in unison kicks the band would employ to emphasize the songs and their party vibe.  Each time the kicks would happen, I would lean back to avoid a kick to the face, and blinding lights above would like up the audience.  As I fell back from the kicks, I would look to my right and Ryan was also leaning back and looking back at me with his hands still clutching the edge of stage.  He had a wide grin on his face that was more of a mystified confusion than actual joy.  Ryan remembers the singer wearing uncomfortably tight acid wash jeans, and that seems right.

 

Unlike the highly scheduled and precise timing of so many concerts in these modern times, in the 80s and 90s concerts ran on their own schedule.  An endless gap between bands back then were absolutely exhausting.  At the stage, we could clearly see that everything was set up, yet the waiting would go on for what seemed like forever.  Even by the time I became more jaded and would seek out alcohol at the bar between sets, the gap was almost too much to endure.

Again, my memories are fuzzy regarding the actual show.  Hipsway played their set, surprisingly sans the 80s staple of a pair of soulful backing singers.  The quartet were dressed in suits and played their smooth pop and of course, “The Honeythief” drew a huge positive response from the crowd.  What I do remember is that the vocalist danced around in a fashion that had me mesmerized: like a marionette puppet whose puppeteer was having a seizure.  No that’s unfair, because his dance was smooth and it fit his olive green suit wearing chic.  More like an expertly wielded Jig Doll?  That’s seriously all that I remember of the performances.  I know that I enjoyed them and had a great time.  It’s amazing how my memories are more snapshots than actual reels of action.

Speaking of memories, I do not remember what happened to the rest of our gang.  I knew that Bill was running amok bumming smokes and trying to “scam chicks,” yet I do not remember if Ken and Matt were up front with us, or not.  I always suspected that Ken was in some side room with old fashioned 30s movie style mobsters sniffing blow off of a hooker’s bare stomach, but this cannot be confirmed.  Plus in the days and weeks after he could expertly mimic the Hipsway singer’s dance.  And Matt?  Who knows?  Probably ordering chili cheese fries from a kitchen that no one knew existed.  They were probably right there with Ryan and I, but not nearly as confounded by Hypertension as we were.

Once the show was over and the house lights sprang back to life, I remember standing in the middle of the dancefloor surrounded by all of the people filing their way to the exit stairwell.  We were keeping an eye out for Bill, who popped out of the crowd excitedly shouting at us about all the cool people he had met and the babes who gave him smokes.  This was when I really began to notice the diversity of the audience.  Being Portland, yes, the audience was mostly white, but not exclusively.  It was also gender diverse.  Not until the early 2000s did I see I see so many women at concerts.  The “alternative” 90s shows had become testosterone fueled hell pits. 

It didn’t fully dawn on me until much later, but this Hipsway concert was one of the last times that I attended a concert that drew such a wide swath of people of all kinds of backgrounds happily co-existing.  I’ve always wondered why that was.  I’m still not sure, but I think it may  be because of the changes in media options, or just an unusual anomaly.  We went from a society made up of broadcasting options.  That meant limited options.  So many of us had very few choices, if say we wanted to hear some new music.  We listened to one of the few radio stations that played new music, so we would put up with hearing numerous songs that we didn’t really care for in order to hear that one song that felt thrilling.  Today, obviously, we all choose our own playlists.  We don’t have to listen to stuff we don’t like just to get to the stuff we do.  We can listen to only our good stuff.  I’m not judging this.  I do this too.  It’s remarkable.  That fifteen year old kid would’ve never had a notion that one day he could listen to a streaming radio station (DKFM) for an hour and only hear one song that was just okay, while the rest are stunning!  Who wouldn’t choose that over listening to an hour full of commercials, boring ballads, and “Careless Whisper” by Wham! for the 70^th time in a day? 

What this has done though is it has limited our exposure to very specific people and things.  Not that all crowd diversity is gone, but over the past two decades, I can predict the make-up of the audience before attending a show.  One might experience more of that Hipsway diversity at these giant stadium concerts, but I am so far down my own rabbit hole that I didn’t consciously know a Taylor Swift song until 2023, plus I can no longer afford concerts.  Perhaps that alone is part of that Hipsway audience back in 1986, it was cheap entertainment.  It was a night out with something that we could all do.  Most of us likely learned about it from the same source.    

I’m no expert in this kind of thing, but as my old age nostalgia has ramped up lately and I ponder about times like this random show from the 80s and marvel at seeing a group of Japanese coeds excitedly leave that show together directly behind a few skate punks wearing DRI and Circle Jerks T-Shirts and a 30-something married couple holding hands (please forgive the assumptions).  Since about 1998, I’ve been almost guaranteed to see some guy at a concert who could be me.  It’s kind of creepy and never fails to make me question my life choices.

Please don't mistake this as a "back in my day things were better" tirade.  Again I'm not judging.  Personally, some things then felt better, and many things are better now.  Things are definitely different.  That cannot be denied.  Sometimes I wonder if our individualized isolationism is why we still struggle so much with understanding each other.  I think as humans we crave shared experiences, but not as much as we crave satisfying our own interests.  Over recent years I’ve witnessed a lot of excited conversations about certain TV shows on certain streaming services.  People who otherwise don’t interact.  I do not pay for streaming and I can tell that people are disappointed, but get excited to tell me about the show that is lighting up their days and nights.  Often times they offer me their login so I can watch said show and be available for a rundown.  The craving for that shared experience is palpable and yet we’re finding more and more ways to let it go.  I’ve done zero research and fully realize that I’m talking out of my ass, yet my experiences especially since social media became such a thing is that I will likely not attend a live concert ever again that will come anywhere close to the broad spectrum of people that I used to witness regularly years ago.  It’s nice to know now that when I see an artist perform that most of the people there are, as a whole, much more likely to be people I have a lot in common with.  However, it’s more forgettable.  Nearly forty years later I still remember Hypertension’s kicks and the smell of cloves and seeing a couple of black kids dancing uninhibited to a mostly unknown white band from far away. 

 

Hipsway "The Honeythief"

Disintegration

 

In March of 1985, I was diagnosed, along with my mother and older brother, with Von Hippel Lindau (VHL).  It’s a genetic disorder that is characterized by the development of both benign and malignant tumors in various parts of the body.  Within a week or so of this diagnosis, I had a tumor removed from my right kidney.  I was not symptomatic.  I was a couple of months shy of my 14^th birthday and in the midst of 8^th grade and basketball season.  At that time, I was obsessed with playing basketball.  I wasn’t the phenom that I had always hoped.  In fact, I had become awkward, overweight, and slow, but I still worked hard to be a good player and teammate.  I had some skills: I was a decent and willing passer, a good screener, a respectable rebounder, and I could shoot accurately.  I was middling – not the superstar I had dreamt about becoming as a young kid who got to play in the third grader game on the playground as a kindergartner.  Those were heady times!

Anyway, I am losing my focus.  The thought of having a major abdominal surgery was so foreign to me that I didn’t know how to react.  I wasn’t scared, because I didn’t fully understand what was about to happen.  I felt great, so it did not seem possible that something was wrong with me aside from my usual insecurities.  I was more worried about my brother who had already gone through a brain surgery (his symptoms of dizziness and nausea led to a CT scan that led to our family’s diagnosis) and was also set for a partial nephrectomy to remove a kidney tumor.  We would eventually be in the hospital during the same week.

That was a little over forty years ago.  Along the way, my mom passed away at the age of 46 from this genetic syndrome, my older brother has had multiple surgeries and is now completely disabled, and I have also struggled through several surgeries, treatments, radiation, three years of dialysis, and much more.  Some of these things have gone well and a few haven’t.  My last surgery in 2021 was for the removal of a few hemangioblastomas.  This was one of those few.  I was on heavy steroids for a few months and gained an astonishing amount of weight, nearly bit my tongue off during the surgery, was left immobile on my back for nearly two weeks, had limited contact with people due to the Covid lockdown, began having incredibly intense paranoid delusions, and by the time I left, I could no longer walk without assistance.  The scariest part for me were the delusions and the loss of control.  My mortality never felt stronger and the feeling that I am very unresolved.  I have always fought hard for my recovery and survival.  That last surgery made me realize that my ability and resolve to return to a fairly healthy stasis is compromised.  I’m older and my body is no longer able to bounce back so easily. 

 

Recently, I was diagnosed with three vein blockages leading in to my heart.  I was casually informed that not only do I need surgery, but I need bypass surgery, which is much more invasive.  Within a few days of this diagnosis (and Yes I was diagnosed because I’ve been struggling with fatigue and low energy and inquired repeatedly with my doctors), I met with a surgeon and he seemed skeptical of my extensive medical history.  Am I too much of a lost cause?  Would a major surgery such as this be deadly?  The surgeon ordered several tests in order to determine my viability.  Those tests are nearly complete.  I am in a limbo state at this moment.  What’s next?  No surgery has been scheduled at this moment and I am left to stew this scenario in my thoughts all the time.  This is not good.  I am getting more anxious and scared by the day – even hour to hour.  Will I be denied a potentially lifesaving surgery and left to disintegrate, or will I receive the surgery and have to endure incredible amounts of pain and be able to summon up the drive to get well, or even back to the tenuous state I’ve been living in for the past four years?  An existence of near daily medical appointments, limited ability to accomplish almost anything, non-stop paperwork to prove that I am unable to function well, and insurance denials (receive one today!!), and that ever increasing realization that I need help that I do not know how to ask for, or come to terms that there are a lot of things that I am no longer able to do.

I am fiercely independent or a control freak.  I have lived alone for twenty years, and I like being alone.  I like to take care of my business and not rely on others.  It terrifies me to lose that control.  This is not unusual.  Lots of us eventually find themselves at this stage as our bodies and minds begin to fail and we try desperately to hold on, while those who care for us try to help.  It often ends in conflict.  It’s all very uncomfortable. 

I’ve considered giving up driving over the last few years, but I am so immobile otherwise, the idea of losing that freedom scares me.  Plus I feel embarrassed if I cannot accomplish simple tasks on my own anymore, and I feel gross and weird.  None of this is good.  One would think that all of the long hospital stays I’ve had would be humbling enough, yet I try to maintain some sort of delusional sense of dignity. 

That’s just it.  Currently, I am frightened.  Something feels different.  It’s a more common surgery than what I’ve been through before, and yet it seems foreign to me.  I’ve become accustomed to kidney and brain surgeries, but the heart?  Never even considered that as a possible future diagnosis.  Plus, during the past year or two, I’ve kind of felt like I’ve reached my limit of medical issues.  I’m exhausted from not ever feeling well.  I’m tired of struggling to tie my shoes, or of feeling like my head will explode, or of whatever.  In as non-dramatic way as possible to express this, I am often so tired that dying does not seem so bad.  There are many great aspects of my life, which I am incredibly grateful for, yet the discomfort and challenge of re-learning how to do simple things over and over have gotten to me.  We all have problems and I do not share this for sympathy or attention.  I write this to help my psyche.  Writing calms my restless head, and sharing makes it all feel a little less scary.