Song Stories: Changing Colors

When Wil and I started the This Wreckage ‘zine over 30 years ago now, the idea is that we would have people submit material that we would throw in each issue as is and put it out to the world.  What we didn’t realize going in is that most people do not want to actually share things like that.  We struggled in finding material to achieve our albeit ambitious goal of a monthly issue. 

However, in a small way, I’d like to float out a similar request we used to do every issue, but with more of a singular focus.  I am hoping that anyone who reads this would be willing to send some kind of story of a certain song that means something to them.  This could mean a short story, an essay, a drawing, a photograph, a poem, a few words, I don’t know.  One of my favorite things is to tie music to pretty much every waking minute of my life.  It’s a problem really.  There are hundreds of songs that evoke a lot of emotions for me for a variety of reasons based on their being nearby at the time.  I absolutely love hearing and reading other people’s stories along these lines.  I don’t care the genre or the artist, or my personal history, if any, with the song, I find these stories endlessly fascinating.

I’m hoping to encourage any and every one who might be willing to send some of their stories to me via messenger, or via email: tangledrec@hotmail.com.  I would like to share them here, on this site, if given the permission.

Please ask any questions you may have.

A few months into the pandemic, like late spring, or early summer of 2020, I remember we were all dealing with the isolation of the lockdown.  A lot of us who were fortunate enough, could work from home, most places were closed, and most people were wearing masks.  There was also very little traffic, even at those busiest of times.  Despite all of the terrible news of conflict everywhere, there were a few promising reports at the time that the lockdown might be working and that we may have seen the worst of it by that point, and that there were a few signs of how quickly the environment was recovering with so little traffic every day.  I have a distinct memory of having to drive somewhere.  It was a warm, sunny day and I had a brief flash of optimism.  I can’t believe it now, but I actually thought to myself: “This might not last much longer.”  Apparently, I was drunk, but the idea that we all collectively could actually make a difference and be willing to make sacrifices for the good of us all.  We just needed to hang in there for a little while. 

Pretty sure it was a Wednesday night in June of 2020, when I tuned into DJ Amber Crain’s fantastic internet radio show When the Sun Hits on Decayfm.com, when she played a brand new track, “Changing Colors,” by a band named Weathering.  When DJ Amber played “Changing Colors,” its wall of guitar buzz smacked me across the face.  It somehow became the best and biggest power chord I’d ever heard!  I never get tired of its wallop.  Even though it’s seemingly a heavy mass, it is still light and tuneful, instead of the heavy sludge and grinding of so many metal/industrial/noise bands that I once loved so much.  Instead it’s the sound of inspiration and energy.  I remember, years ago, trying to compare Bob Mould’s heavy solo album Black Sheets of Rain to Sugar’s Copper Blue.  Where Black Sheets’ guitars felt like actual weight that we were fighting to climb out from under, Copper Blue’s sounds were like bolts of sparkling electricity filling us with gusto.  Both styles can be great in their own way, but this…this somehow bridges both the heavy and the fire.

I’m spinning circles

Like wheels in my eyes

I’ve been changing colors

All my metal oxidizing 

I went absolutely cold.  Shivers cascaded down my spine.  A giant lump welled up in my throat.  Water pooled up in my eyes.  Not only did these words hit me with a ton of bricks, as that super power chord transitioned into a luxurious, nearly orchestral space for the vocals, but it was that voice.  There are times that certain voices affect me emotionally, and I do not know why.  But this voice, provided by Elinor Carbone, reminded me of Emma Pollock’s voice the first time I ever heard The Delgados on their jaunty single “Everything Goes around the Water,” which quickly became one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite albums ever.  They have voices that crackle with emotion and endless tunefulness.  I can’t get them out of my head!  Their phrasing keeps me humming their vocal refrains over and over, like a puzzle I can’t solve, but keep making the same efforts to try.  Those words too.  As I grow ever older, I constantly fight the notion that I’m spinning circles – getting stagnant, but I feel like it’s a constant battle.  I desire stillness and quiet.  I mostly want to be left alone.  I want to wrap myself up into an isolated cocoon and shield myself from the madness and needs and expectations of others, but those tendencies are exactly what leads to the rust build up.

The Delgados "Everything Goes Around the Water"

Watch me kick the dust up

Don’t like it settling settling down

These words hit hard and act as a reminder to shake off the oxidation and fight to stay relevant or at least feel like I’m trying.  This is inspirational to me, yet it is an ever increasing challenge as I age and as my health quickly declines.  Those leaves change colors no matter what.  This past October was like summer, where it was well into the 80s and dry nearly the entire month, but dammit, those leaves still began to change from green to yellow and so on.  Ready to fall.

I can act so restless

Take care, you carry me home

It’s so strange to be loved

When I insist on being left alone 

In recent years, I have had to face the very real notion that I may not be able to take care of myself.  Currently, I struggle to cook, clean, shower, and on certain days: everything.  Yet my lifelong need to be independent and mostly alone has put me in a very real crossroads.  How do I accept help?  How do I handle the idea that there are people willing to help, and are simply waiting for the call.  How do I handle such things without feeling useless and embarrassed?  However, that heavy guitar instills me with life, especially when that killer guitar melody sits in atop the fuzz, it is a perfect example of why music is Goddamn important.  Plus, the song ends abruptly with a sharp snare drum smack and hi hat tap, like a lot of Bad Religion songs, which always leaves me wanting more.  Don't get me started about my general dislike of fade outs.

😭

This is not much of a story.  The reality is that I was sitting over my laptop with my headphones on, sitting in the dark, yet I will not forget that moment.  “Changing Colors” is the whole package for me as far as a song is concerned.  It’s exciting and fun to hear, to play air guitar to, to sing along with, and it makes me feel things – a lot of things.  When I hear it, I get inspired, I get sad, and I want to hear it again.  The song is powerful and defiant, and yet sad and reflective.  During each airing of When the Sun Hits, there is always a coinciding live chat about the songs on Facebook and initially, during that particular airing, all I could do was put in a crying emoji.  My heart was racing, as I was overcome with an intense emotional and physical reaction to this song, and of course, my collector nerd need to purchase it kicked in like a panic, which I did!

Weathering "Changing Colors"

The Other Side of the Fence

 

I’ll never forget, years ago, one time, my long-time friend Wil and I were in a café one morning, during a work break.  We were hanging out.  He had ordered a deli sandwich and I was too cheap to do so, so I just sat across the table and fidgeted.  He took a massive bite from the sandwich, and was kind of struggling to take it in.  After he gained control of it, but still had a mouth full, he asked “How do normal people eat these?”  Of course, we both laughed and have added it to our ongoing we are monsters chronicles (hint: he and I are the Monsters).  At any rate, I find myself asking that type of question a lot.  For example, I’ve always wondered how ‘normal’ people consume new music.  I have a seriously unhealthy need for new music.  There are people who take it much much further, but it doesn’t change the fact that I still think about these things.  When I hear a new song, I have to own it.  I do believe in trying to pay for the joy the artist(s) is/are providing me in a small gesture of support.  In addition to owning a copy of the song, I generally have to investigate further.  Is there earlier material?  An album? A hard to find split vinyl single? 

What has it got me?  I have CDs and records in boxes all over my apartment that I have lugged around for several moves, stubbed my toes on multiple times, and at one time, a serious credit card debt!  I want to know what a healthy relationship to music is!  When I was a poor college student living in downtown Seattle in 1992, I remember spending my last $10 on a ticket to see Bob Mould’s band Sugar in place of saving it for the groceries I needed for the next week or so.  Did the same thing a few weeks later when I spotted the unexpected UK CD single for The Sundays’ “Goodbye” in a record shop window.  I was so stoked that they had new music coming out that I couldn’t stop thinking about it until the shop opened the next day.  Luckily, it hasn’t got me jail time, though at the time, a smash and grab seemed a possibility.

I was probably born with some sort of specific addictive thing.  I find myself being especially drawn into things through others’ enthusiasm.  When I was a little kid, my friend Vinton, introduced me to comic books.  He had a serious love of these things, and has continued on as an adult – getting into the industry through his art!  Once he hooked me, I found myself going to the local bookstore (the Book End) every week on comic book delivery day to get my favorite titles.  It wasn’t until Marvel started doing crossover stories like Secret Wars, where one had to buy all the comics to get the full story, that I had to bow out due to the limitations of my allowance and patience.  However, I almost immediately filled the comic collecting void with record collecting once I got my first paying job at 14.

Don’t get me wrong, my love of/obsession for music has been a huge positive for my life.  I have had amazing adventures going to see live music that I likely wouldn’t have experienced otherwise, met lots of great and interesting people, or, in other words, despite the isolating nature of listening to music, my love and need for it has pulled me out of my shell.  Heck, I even have a social media friend from Australia (hi Alex!) who I met through MySpace due to our shared love of the Go-Betweens!  There’s also Chris, a pen pal of 30 years who contacted me initially because she and her husband saw my collection in my old bedroom when they toured my childhood family home when it was put up for sale.  Music has educated me, or led me to learn about things, given me incredible highs, and is tied with almost any memory I can conjure.  Still there’s a part of me that wants to give it up.  If I hear a new song that I like, I kind of wish I could be content to enjoy it when I might happen to encounter it again, or look it up on YouTube or Spotify and make a playlist.  I have been trying to ween myself of the need to be a completist.  Just because I love a new song by so and so, does not mean I have to own every album or every single they ever released!  Perhaps it’s that I have a need/desire to not have stuff.  I like having as few possessions as possible.  Things make me feel trapped, and yet I have all of things heavy boxes of records everywhere!  What the hell?!  When I start feeling especially unhealthy, I tend to start thinning things down as an end of life necessity, once I begin to realize how meaningless my prized Independent Project Records’ Archive Series limited edition 10” records would be for whoever is lucky enough to clean up after me.

I guess it’s who I am.  Just the other day, I was driving in to downtown Portland listening to a random mixed CD made up of new songs that I’ve procured from listening to several stellar shows on streaming station DKFM (decayfm.com) such as Krissy Vanderwoude’s Drowned in a Sea of Sound, Paul Lopez’s The Shoegaze Collective, and especially Amber Crain’s When the Sun Hits.  My mind drifted through several questions, one of which is why did I select these chosen few songs of the many amazing tracks they share?  What is it that draws me in?  Songs take their time cramming their way into my thick skull these days, plus I can honestly say that the vast majority of what I hear is familiar – stuff that reminds me of music already in my possession.  So what is it?  What is the appeal?  I don’t know!  I just know that when I hear certain things, and those things evolve over time, that I get so excited and inspired.  Depending on the mood of the song, my mind electrifies and wants to be creative, wants to analyze, wants to experience genuine emotions.  Perhaps that’s the key.  Music wakes my mind up from the day to day regression it seems to be going through with the daily grind.  I remember a couple of years ago the time Amber Crain played on her show Weathering’s “Changing Colors.”  Yes, I fed off of the super power chords, but it was the vocals, the words, the phrasing and the voice all combined to make me a bit overwhelmed with emotion.  The song yanked out all kinds of stored up feelings that have built up over time – the kind that are difficult to explain or even understand.  This happened again within the last few week’s with the song “Ceiling Lines” by the Real Sea, when Krissy played it on her show.  Yes, I love the music.  The dissonant guitars of the intro lay down a familiar and comfortable pathway for my ears, but Sharon Mok’s voice is all kinds of amazing!  Just hearing that song puts a giant lump in my throat.  I suppose that’s it.  New music makes me feel alive!  I guess the need to search for it comes from the need to feel.  Seems like I’m stuck with it.  Now if only I can give up this senseless need to ramble on endlessly about nothing.

Becoming Real Forever

Tender Age

Becoming Real Forever

(SINIS Recordings)

Holy shit, have I been out of it!  As mentioned in the previous post (It’s Beginning to and Back Again), I’ve been on autopilot for a few years with regards to keeping up with music, but, thanks to Amber Crain’s amazing When the Sun Hits blog and internet radio show on DKFM, I got clued in to Tender Age just in time for their debut album’s release and I am thankful.  Tender Age are from Portland too, so they’ve been right under my nose this entire time. 

This young five piece apparently recorded this album in a shack over at the coast, in Seaside.  Having grown up on the Oregon coast, I can just imagine how out of place their squealing guitar feedback and extreme dissonance must have been, but at the same time, it somehow makes perfect sense.  I have a distinct memory of riding in a car crammed full of high school classmates heading southbound on Highway 101 on a school night in the late 80s to attend an art opening at the Cultural Center in Newport.  Everyone in the car had a piece in the show, but me.  I was, and still am, the eternal supporter (the bridesmaid, the caddie, the cling-on, the groupie) of the arts – never the artist.  Along the way, we were listening to Sonic Youth’s brand new Daydream Nation, which I had dubbed for my old friend Ian, who was driving.  I distinctly remember gazing out over the Pacific Ocean at sunset on the way up the hill of Cape Foulweather with a huge grin on my face taking in the stunning view as the middle part of “Silver Rocket” went about destroying the car’s speakers.  Becoming Real Forever reminds me of this moment.

From what I’ve seen, Tender Age sometimes get labeled with the “shoegaze” tag, likely because of their liberal use of feedback to create some pretty intense soundscapes.  They remind me more of the aforementioned Sonic Youth, or Dinosaur, or Pussy Galore school of rock and noise - something that would come out on SST, or Homestead Records – all influences on those early shoegaze bands.  Plus, vocalist/guitarist, Tauna Leonardo employs a cool, otherworldly and disconnected Kim Gordon style spoken word approach on songs like “Olives Choice,” “Dark Circles,” and the first half of the epic “Cellphone Tower.” Tender Age are excellent when it comes to using three guitars (Leonardo, Elaina Tardif, and Christopher Klarer!!!) to create feedback which invigorate their songs with chaos.  The searing presence of the noise gives their songs an urgency and the feeling that the entire procedure might run off the rails at any moment.  It’s exciting!

It doesn’t hurt that the opening song, “Don’t Mind,” is an addictive pop song buried within a Psychocandy-era Jesus and Mary Chain wall of screeches, a ramshackle looseness, and a deep bassline that booms and moans like a really strange harbor buoy that’s way too near for comfort.  I find myself listening to it over and over.  When drummer, Olives, leans into the hi-hat during the bridge between the chorus and the second verse, I feel like an itch is being scratched.  That crazy low sonic boom bass, creatively guided by Bryan Robertson, guides the similar “Isn’t Real” as well.  The trudging and heavy “Lowers” leaves behind a trail of wreckage in its wake, along with a surprising sing-along vocal melody in the chorus.  The funky shuffle of “Deluxe” is the oddball track of this bunch, but a welcome breath of fresh air, and a touch of needed variety – making it a standout.  So too, the breathy acoustic ballad, “Nothing” that closes side one with a real touch of beauty.

Overall, Becoming Real Forever, seems to express a sentiment of feeling disconnected, disengaged, and separate from the rest of the world.  This is a feeling I think a lot of us can identify with in this age where so many of us are overcrowded yet completed isolated.  So much of what happens anymore does not seem real at all.  There is a definite surrealism to their sound with all of the noises coming at you from everywhere, as well as decay and destruction.  They build somewhat basic rock song foundations and then take sledge and jack hammers to these structures and present the remains as the finished product.  Have you ever wondered how an old section of sidewalk can become so broken up over time, when it is made out of concrete – something so indestructible?  Tender Age might have been there blasting away just before you arrived.  I highly recommend this album.

(https://sinisrecordings.bandcamp.com/album/becoming-real-forever)

Tender Age "Isn't Real"

It's Beginning To And Back Again

About a month ago I received an iPhone from the IT guy at my job.  This was to replace the Windows Phone that I hadn’t really used for several years at work and rarely pulled out of my desk drawer.  The sad fact is, the Windows phone was my first smart phone and it was terrible.  My personal cell phone is very very old.  It was a free knock off Blackberry.  The only reason I bought a cell phone in the first place was when I was on the kidney transplant waiting list in 2004 and I didn’t trust the beeper the transplant clinic provided me.  I get made fun of a lot when I pull out my antiquated old phone, but I never really had much of an interest in having a smartphone.  My biggest fear being that as soon as I had one, I’d be somehow connected with work all the time.  I can barely mentally take a full day at the office as it is, why would I want to deal with the constant crises 24/7?  This is the same job where someone urgently called me for some simple question while I was being poked and prodded in the ICU a few years ago.  There is a level of helplessness that many of my beloved co-workers seem to possess that constantly flusters and frustrates me.  Being reachable at all times worries me.  If you’re still with me, you’re better than me, because writing that paragraph bored me.  At any rate, I have decided to actually give this 21^st century phone thing a try. 

Yes, I have found that I now check my work messages during evenings and answer work phone calls on weekends.  Yes, it has already spoiled a night’s attempt at sleep a few times.  In fact, I just reflexively checked the work Outlook for emails as I’m typing this on a Saturday.  WHY?!  I don’t want to know even while I’m in the office!  However, what I didn’t think about is the easy access to music that this new-fangled phone provides.  I also discovered that my ears quickly eject the earbuds that came with the phone by spitting them out every few minutes. 

Music has been my lifeline since I was about twelve.  When I was first able to get a job at the age of 14, I began spending all of money on records and it rarely slowed down since.  It has all evolved ever so slightly over these way too many years, but the search for new-to-me sounds seems to be part of my DNA.  I don’t play any instruments, my voice is like some sort of nasally appropriation of a Peanuts cartoon adult (come to think about it, so is my writing voice), but I can handle listening to music intently and with purpose and telling anyone and everyone I can about the stuff that inspires and energizes me.  That’s been predominantly what this blog I’ve mostly abandoned is all about – sharing my love for the music I choose to purchase (and yes, I do purchase it) and doing my best to get others to do the same.  Alas, I’ve never been able to find much of an audience over all of these years, so I crawl back into my shell and keep to myself. 

The last few years my music passion has admittedly cooled.  I actually went through a period where I purchased no music between August 2015 and April 2016 (I did receive a couple of crowd-funded CDs in the mail during this time), which was disconcerting on many levels.  However, this smart phone has changed things.  Now, when I leave the office, I head to a place where I can walk in a forest, or quiet neighborhood, and jam those earbuds in for a few minutes at a time, and walk with a soundtrack of fantastic music!  These are all things I could’ve accessed before on my laptop, but just didn’t - things like: Jack Rabid’s weekly Big Takeover Radio show (I’ve been reading his magazine for 27 years!!), or the When the Sun Hits show every Wednesday on DKFM preceded by Louder Than Bombs on local station House of Sound (Wednesday evenings have become a new version of my old Sunday nights in High School with the New Music Show on Q105 and MTV’s 120 Minutes!).  What this phone has taught me is that I had stopped seeking as much as I used to.  That I was falling into complacency.  I had followed the When the Sun Hits blog for years via Facebook, but only barely paid attention to the posts.  Most of the artists mentioned were unfamiliar, so I skimmed by and I regret it.  Now that I’m actually listening to host Amber Crain’s carefully curated show, my ears have been opened again, and I feel pretty damn excited about it.  I haven’t been introduced to this much new music in such a short span of time, since I was in my early 20s and it is refreshing.  And DKFM!  An internet radio station that plays so-called “shoegaze” music 24/7?  Are you kidding me?!  A couple of Sundays ago, I went for a morning stroll (awkward stumble?) and tried out DKFM’s Classic station and heard eight straight songs I spent time and effort tracking down in the late 80s and early 90s!  It was as if I ran across an old mixtape and popped it into my Walkman.  The source material is expanding too, as I have been turned on to The Kitchen Sink (Elizabeth Klisiewicz's show on Strawberry Tongue Radio) and This Radiant Hour (Girl Afraid's show on on DKFM).  I’m sure there will be more.

Here I am, not jabbering on about the music I think you should be listening to, but instead where you can find the great music you should be listening to.  

This image is the Decayfm.com logo.

http://bigtakeover.com/radio
http://whenthesunhitsblog.blogspot.com/
https://decayfm.com/
https://www.mixcloud.com/louderthanbombsus/
https://www.mixcloud.com/Girl-Afraid/
https://www.mixcloud.com/eklisiewicz/
http://houseofsound.org/