Top 40 of 2011 Part II

In an effort to keep things in more of a bite sized format, I have broken the Top 40 into 4 parts. These are the reviews for 2011 from pick #'s 30-21.

Here we go:

30. The Primitives
Never Kill A Secret 7” EP
(Fortuna Pop!)
The first time I heard the Primitives brand of speedy, buzzing, 2 minute pop songs in the late 80s, I was completely sold. Hearing the famous “Crash” single for the first time was a breath of fresh air that blew off the dormancy of my childhood love of the early 60s do-wop girl groups like the Shangri-La’s, The Supremes and The Ronettes, except now these catchy tunes came with the heaping portion of fuzzed out guitars a la Jesus and Mary Chain, with the adrenaline rush of the Buzzcocks thrown into the mix. “Thru the Flowers,” “Way Behind Me,” “Out of Reach,” and especially “Spacehead” were instantaneous blasts of energy that I feasted on over and over again. I think hearing Tracy Tracy’s semi detached vocals atop that buzz (on their appropriately titled debut Lovely) changed my music tastes forever. Up to that point, most of my music loves of the time were leaning towards the male dominated US indie bands like Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr., Lemonheads, Husker Du/Bob Mould, Pixies, etc, but now I had fallen in love with the female fronted bands. The love didn’t last long though, as their second album Pure, though it had some nice moments, didn’t contain that same immediacy that was their early hallmark, while their final album came and went without me noticing it. So, their return after 17-18 years of dormancy was one I approached cautiously. These four songs are quite a revelation! They may have more in common with the slower more 60s Nuggets garage style of rock, like Pure, my tastes have expanded as well, finding me in love with these songs. “Rattle My Cage” is a classic sex tune that needs Go-Go dancers in cages and a constantly panning camera for a video. Tracy Tracy’s cool has not diminished in the slightest and the band sounds invigorated to be back at it. “Never Kill A secret” is a nice acoustic strummer, while the closer, “Breakaway” definitely sounds like some lost early 60s pop number. Also, included is a very nice cover of the great Lee Hazlewood’s “Need All the Help I Can Get.” Welcome back! Now I’m ready for a new album.
(fortunapop.com)

29. Low
C’Mon
(Sub Pop)
This is Low’s 9th album and they have not made a misstep along the way. Their only downfall is maybe diminishing returns over the years, as their cryptic crawling songs can weigh a bit heavy over time. Then again, their last two were their loudest and most upbeat records to date, ending with 2007’s Drums and Guns (Really? Has it been that long?). This new material definitely includes some of their fuller arrangements that they’ve been slowly (sorry) adding on over time, but this overall harkens back to their 2002 classic Trust. Like that album, this is one is recorded in a church and has a big open-ended sound that does wonder for their sound. This album is a bit of a mixed bag as compared to some of their seamless past work. Maybe they’re trying to find new directions and haven’t landed on exactly which way to turn yet. My favorites on this include what may be one of their best singles to date in the album opener “Try to Sleep,” and the banjo infused stomper “Witches.” Some other highlights are two of the longer tracks that remind of their earliest days with evil sounding organ led “Especially Me” and the hypnotic “Nothing but Heart.” It’s good to have Low around, like it’s good to have at least an occasional snowfall in the winter. They remind us to ease off the gas a bit and reflect.
(chairkickers.com or PO Box 600 Duluth, MN 55801)

28. Maritime Human Hearts
(Dangerbird)
This band will always be compared to the great 90s act The Promise Ring, because of Davey von Bohlen’s distinctive voice. This is both a good and bad thing. Those who appreciated that band’s work should be alerted that a couple of these guys are still at it (Maritime also includes the complex drummer Dan Didier from the Promise Ring) and on their fourth album since 2004. On the other hand, some might be disappointed with the mildly new direction and I’m sure the band itself grew tired of past band references years ago. What sets this band apart from their predecessor is the basic simplicity of their songs. They are built on top of a very rock solid rhythm section and guitarists von Bohlen and Dan Hinz color in the remainder with nice high end post-punk fills. What we’re left with are a bunch of really nice hummable pop songs that will stick in your head after a few listens and keep you coming back for more. Several of these songs would make great hit singles: “Paraphermalia,” “Air Arizona,” and the teen angst anthem “Annihilation Eyes,” but “Peopling of London” and “Faint of Hearts” are the big standouts for me with their deep bass walk and gradual build. Check these guys out.
(maritimesongs.com)

27. Still Corners
Creatures of an Hour
(Sub Pop)
This debut album from Still Corners is an interesting work. I’m not sure what to make of it. Apparently, they released an EP in 2007, but I didn’t hear of them until last year’s really strong “Don’t Fall in Love” 7”. This collection does not contain any songs that quite live up to that single, but overall, it is a dreamy mood piece that will transport the listener into another world. I’m just not certain what kind of world that is. Many of the songs here are infused with some creepy sounding organ which gives it a circus crossed with 60s acid drench psychedelic feel, which is an odd juxtaposition considering that Tessa Murray’s breathy barely there vocals sugarcoat a pretty mellow and relaxing, if not a bit unsettling collection. The best songs here include the opening “Cuckoo,” the misplaced instrumental “Circulars,” which should be later in the tracklisting, the shuffling “Into the Trees,” and the goth-tinged “I Wrote in Blood.” I’m sure this is all very confusing to read, so just check them out and see for yourself.
(stillcorners.tumblr.com)

26. Big Troubles
Romantic Comedy
(Slumberland)
This is the second long player from Big Troubles, but the first for me. It makes sense why Slumberland picked these guys up, because they have a knack for very catchy pop numbers, one of which approaches a lost Pains of Being Pure at Heart track (“Minor Keys”). By all accounts, their debut is a super low-fi fuzzy nugget, but I hear no evidence of such on this follow-up. In fact, they’ve brought in Mitch Easter (Let’s Active and, most famously, early R.E.M.) to put his producer’s touch on this and from what I can ascertain it would be a similar makeover that the UK’s Moose made when Easter produced their first LP back in the early 90s. That transformation found Moose suddenly going from shoegaze noise makers to whistling acoustic pop purveyors. That’s what this album sounds like, even though the lyrics defy the title and spell out bad luck with love, the music is mostly pretty splashy and full of sunshine. It’s an enjoyable listen that reminds a bit of Velvet Crush’s debut In the Presence of Greatness. There’s no big statement here, but a whole big of hooky songs to enjoy like “She Smiles for Pictures,” “Misery,” the melancholic “Engine,” and my favorites “Make it Worse” and the closing “Never Mine.”
(bigtroubles.bandcamp.com)

25. Astrid Williamson
Pulse
(Incarnation/One Little Indian)
This is easily Astrid Williamson’s worst album in her career. It lacks the highly flying breezy intensity of her solo debut in 1998, or the strong singer-songwriter back to basics of her second self-titled album and 2006’s Day of the Lone Wolf. And though this album seems like an old relic from the world of 80s overproduction and prodigious use of senseless sound effects, it lacks the 80s new romantic spark of her 2009 LP Here Come the Vikings. And don’t get me started on how far removed this is in quality to the epic shoegazing classic she led her original band Goya Dress through. The blame seems to lie with her collaboration with Leo Abrahams who has apparently worked extensively with famed ambient lord Brian Eno. He has crushed the drive of much of this album with bleeps, bloops and frustratingly distracting effects. Having said all of this though, Williamson is an accomplished songwriter whose deft touch with lyrics and beautiful piano flourishes saves this album. For every weighted down mess such as the drudgingly dull “Underwater” and “Husk,” we find a back to basics straight-forward “Miracle” and a winning “Pulse.” The best songs feature mostly (aside from some unnecessary flourishes) just Astrid and her piano as on the timeless “Connected” and achingly beautiful “Paperbacks.” This isn’t a bad album, it simply has a few missteps, but I will continue to sing the praises of this way too overlooked artist.
(astridwilliamson.co.uk)

24. Sons and Daughters
Mirror Mirror
"Breaking Fun” 7”
(Domino)
This is this Scottish quartet’s third long player, and after the in-the-red forcefulness of their last LP, 2008’s This Gift (my #1 pick of that year), they have brought the tempos down a lot. Instead of the straight-ahead guitar assault of the last one, or the foot stomping traditional Scottish tones, crossed with punk styling’s of their debut and near perfect EP, 2004’s Love the Cup, Sons and Daughters go all gothic post-punk on us. What has remained is their love of murderous and menacing lyrics, as evidenced in the back to back songs about a serial killer (“Rose Red” and the famous Black Dahlia murder “Axed Actress”). This fits in well with their new style. The scratchy guitars and empty echo chamber effects of the drums make this feel like a lost Bauhaus album with some female vocals added in. Unfortunately, this is not what I signed up for with this band. It has taken me some serious listening to find a way into this heavy somewhat burdensome album. Once inside, there are moments of light that remind why this band has always been so appealing to me. That reason: catchy songs! Though, they are clearly going for atmosphere here over pop singles, there are some sparkling sing-along choruses that have wrapped themselves into my psyche, such the declarative passage in “Orion” and the upbeat downshift chorus of “Don’t Look Now.” The clear standout here though, is “Rose Red,” which finds the band hitting their strengths and sounding like they’re having a good time re-telling the bloody story and even jumping into a first person mindset. This album at first was a bit shocking. My distaste for it as a whole was palpable. It has won me over a bit since the summertime, but I am hoping that this turns out to be an experiment only and that they angle for something different next time. I recommend this, only to the hardcore fans. To anyone wanting to try them out for the first time: start with Love the Cup and then jump full bore into This Gift!

The single “Breaking Fun” is an odd choice. It has no real hook and though the lyrics are quite thought-provoking, it hides this band’s true talents of writing really catchy tunes. Kind of a dud. Better is the short b-side “Giallo,” but definitely not worth seeking out.
(sonsanddaughtersloveyou.com)

23. Idaho
You Were A Dick
(Idaho Music)
Idaho has returned after a 6 year a hiatus with their 8th long player. It’s hard to believe really. I skipped the last LP, 2005’s The Lone Gunman, as it was really more of a movie soundtrack then a proper LP. So instead for me it’s been 10 years since Jeff Martin’s musical vehicle has crossed my path with his first truly solo work, 2001’s Levitate. To be honest, I barely remember that album. All of the past trademarks return on Dick: Martin’s quiet, croaky voice, mostly down-tempo and atmospheric, short songs dominate. As with all of his work, my favorites tend toward the edgier, louder numbers such as “The Space Between” and “Up the Hill.” The excellent title track starts things off on a telling path with its story of personal disappearance, as the narrator observes an old acquaintance over what sounds like a social media site. Has he really moved on with his life, or simply changed locations (“is it that you were a dick to me in high school?”)? It sets a thought-provoking tone. Like much of Martin’s work, the songs can be a bit hit and miss and can be difficult to dig into. However, it is worth the effort, as repeated listens provide increased intimacy into what he’s trying to achieve. This doesn’t achieve the heights of Idaho’s best work, 1997’s The Forbidden EP, nor 1998’s most cohesive work, Alas (which Martin reissued on his own imprint a few years back as a combo pack), but it has it’s moments and is a welcome return. If you seek this out from his website, you will also receive a bonus DVD with a bunch of extra songs! While you’re there, pick up the reissue I just mentioned; along with Idaho’s fantastic debut 7” single “Skyscraper” from 1992, which sold me on them from the beginning and their ’93 debut Year After Year!
(idahomusic.com)

22. Social Distortion
Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes
(Epitaph)
Six plus years since their last LP has passed in a flash and Social Distortion return like an old friend. After about 33 years or so, this is only their seventh actual album, yet they have chiseled a permanent mark in rock-n-roll history. Who would’ve thought that Mike Ness – a skinny little punk rocker – would become a source of some of the most authentic old fashioned classic rock-n-roll? Yet, we’ve witnessed the evolution with each spread out entry from the snotty punk of their early singles and 1983’s Mommy’s Little Monster to the Stones by way of Ness’ heroes: Johnny Cash and Hank Williams Sr. blend of today. In many ways, this LP feels like what Ness has been striving for since 1988’s Prison Bound, with its tough guy ballads and tales of bad luck, fugitives on the run, and surviving through and despite it all. Though I personally prefer the shredding and angry side of Social D that rears its ferocious head on a few songs each album and throughout the entirety of 1996’s White Light, White Heat, White Trash, I cannot deny that this may be their ultimate complete statement with such cracking numbers as the opening instrumental thesis statement “Road Zombie,” to the closing favorite “Still Alive,” and all the dusty sidetracks in between. Thanks for stopping by on your travels, old friend.
(socialdistortion.com)

21. British Sea Power
Valhalla Dancehall
(Rough Trade)
I’ve always liked British Sea Power, but I have also always held them away at a suspicious distance. They have a remarkable ability to write huge hooks for massive sounding anthemic songs, but they also have the tendency to bury them in obscurities, needless complexities and what seems like inside jokes. They also like to clutter much of their collections with needlessly long songs. Aside from their most focused work yet, 2005’s Open Season, their other three albums though grandiose and innovative, also drag on too long and wear out the audience. As always, there is much to recommend here. The opening “Who’s in Control?” is like a soccer chant filled with angry lyrics that gets the adrenaline going. “We are Sound” is an even better offering, but then the mixed bag starts to set in. “Georgie Ray” is a slow burner that has a nice hook, but is a bit of a momentum killer so early in the album. “Mongk II” is a personal favorite, with its buzzing and endlessly open ended sound working its way to an obscure but catchy refrain, while “Observe the Skies” also gets me singing along at every turn ("Let's watch the nebulae explode"). “Luna” is a solid mid-tempo song, as is the first single “Living is so Easy” and the closing “Heavy Water.” On the other hand, these 13 songs are hampered by the heavy handed and odd “Baby,” and the unbelievably endless “Cleaning Out the Rooms” and “Once More Now” (over 11 minutes!!). These epics aren’t bad songs; they’re simply a bit much. The good greatly outweighs the bad, so I definitely will keep an ear out for their future material, but will continue to hope for a tighter album that focuses on their strengths.
(britishseapower.co.uk)



That's it for this installment!  We're halfway there, so please stayed tuned for the Top 20.



links: Top 40 #40-31
                     #20-11
                     # 10-1

Top 40 of 2011 Part I

The hardest part about writing about music is that it's nearly impossible to say anything that makes any sense. Instead one is left with a bunch of repetitive adjectives that may or may not connect the reader to the actual music that's being described. In this age of information, it's so easy to find even the most obscure new music, that it's easy for people to check stuff out without spending money or really with that much of an effort, so that's helpful...which is nice.

Another year has passed and it's time for me to aimlessly post my list of favorite music releases of the year. The only reason I do this is because I have this burning desire to share my love of this stuff!  Plus, like so many, at times like these, I like to reflect on the events of the past year, and even though the best music is timeless, it's also the way I keep track of events in my life.  I remember what I was doing when I was listening to certain songs.
Since I'm so long-winded and there're so many releases here, I have chosen to break the list down into 4 parts of 10 releases and I'm going for the American Top 40 Casey Kasem style, so we'll start with 40 and work our way to the # 1 pick of 2011.

Happy New Year!

40. Telekinesis
 12 Desperate Lines
(Merge)
This is my first exposure to Michael Benjamin Learner’s music. He definitely takes major cues from early period Death Cab for Cutie here (no surprise with Death Cab’s Chris Walla producing and playing along for this second album) – just check out “50 Ways” or “Dirty Thing” for a sample. It could be a lost track from Death Cab's We Have the Facts. There are also clear influences of the Teen Beat label’s vision of dryly recorded new wave and the bass-lines throughout would not sound out of place on an Unrest, or Flin Flon album. Check out the new wave bass line of the standout track “Please Ask for Help,” or the sing-along chorus of “Car Crash” to see that this guy can write very addictive tunes. I haven’t heard Telekinesis’ earlier work yet, so I do not know if there has been significant growth away from their/his influences, which could be important, but the influences are sound as far as I’m concerned. This is a solid cohesive collection that is worth a listen.
(telekinesismusic.com)

39. Radiohead
King of Limbs
(Ticker Tape)
Radiohead have reached a level of exposure that I am not especially comfortable with. It’s become more about their aesthetic then their music these days. I appreciate that in 2000 they radically changed their sound and direction with Kid A, and even more so with Amnesiac (which King of Limbs most reminds of), but everyone knows that their best work came during the mid 90s with The Bends (a huge creative leap forward from their debut) and their peak OK Computer in 1997. Whether it’s their fault or not, since then they’ve been stuck in a media blitz which obfuscates their music with their supposed politics and message. Having said that, they have done some pretty great work, if not as solid as their “rock” phase, but their last LP 2007’s In Rainbows found them regaining their strengths. King of Limbs is a bit of a step back or sideways. These eight songs are built on complex sounding drum loops and various electronics with Thom Yorke putting his patented creepy moan over the top. Lucky for them, they have serious talent, so it all sounds pretty good – save for the terrible Casio keyboard sound effects that distract the opening “Bloom.” It’s the final four tracks that rate the real attention. “Lotus Flower” makes an obvious single choice with its actual dance-ability, while “Codex” is a moving piano driven ballad that lingers like a bad hangover. “Give Up the Ghost” is a strange folk/electronic hybrid that is oddly effective, and finally the closing “Separator” finds a sing-along chorus with Yorke harmonizing against himself. Not sure how this rates in their lexicon, but it’s worth an actual listen, as opposed to listening to everything that gets said about them.
(radiohead.com)

38. Death Cab For Cutie
Codes and Keys
(Atlantic)
Death Cab have made it to album number seven and now third on a major label (not that that means anything anymore) and they are finally truly showing the tell tale signs of a band that needs a break. While this is their biggest departure from their now signature sound, and I give them ample credit for that, it feels heavy and distant. Their music has always been about intimacy and the small things in life, while this new album is bloated with useless electronic trickery and is way too slick for its own good. It’s in the songs that remind of more of their mid-period work (like back to Transatlanticism) such as the single “You are a Tourist” and the title track that are the catchiest and strongest of their new direction. “Monday Morning” and “Underneath the Sycamore” also show signs that these guys are still breathing. Overall, this is a bit of a letdown, not because of lack of songwriting chops, but because this doesn’t feel like they were fully invested in its making. It’s still worth a listen.
(deathcabforcutie.com)

37.Soft Science
Highs and Lows
(Test Pattern)
When I first fell head over heels over Holiday Flyer back in the late 90s, I never thought I’d be chasing down all the various projects that now defunct band would be involved with. There's the California Oranges, Desario, and well, here’s another one. This one finds vocalist Katie Haley (Conley) leading a band with former members of the offshoot California Oranges (among others) and mining similar territory. The album alternates between very catchy pop numbers featuring Katie’s sweet voice and some shining guitar based melodies and more dream-like atmospheric or dare I say shoegaze-y numbers (more like early Lush). The opening trio of songs are an immediate highlight, with the short, pounding “When Will You Come Home,” the stratospheric “Closer to Me,” and finally the rocking “Something to Go on.” Don’t miss out on “Better Be Good,” “It’s Right ”and “No Sanctuary” or my favorite catchy tune “Take it Back.”. Just track this thing down and try and keep up with all the Holiday Flyer alumnus projects out there – you won’t be disappointed, or better yet, start out with the old HF albums and work your way forward.
(facebook.com/softsciencemusic)

36.The Radio Dept.
Passive Aggressive: Singles 2002-2010 (2 CD)
(Labrador)
I know very little about these Swedes. We sold all of their music on our old Entangled Records website, but I only heard a track or few here and there. I did always like what I heard, but was never sure if it was enough to delve further. Along came this collection early this year: two CD’s for the price of one, and singles which should represent their best tracks, so I decided to give it a try. I am glad I did, because these 14 songs definitely live up to my high expectations of the melodic Swedish pop scene. These tracks span their entire career and find them moving from in-the-red low-fi numbers that remind me of my days listening to Spare Snare and the like to an almost Pet Shop Boys sound (“The Worst Taste in Music”) to a more balanced fully realized sound of their now mature selves on the newer material such as the amazing “Heaven’s on Fire,” the strangely dubby “Never Follow Suit” and the lyrically strong “The New Improved Hypocrisy.” Of course, I also bought it because they cover the Go-Betweens classic “Bachelor Kisses” here. The B-sides are okay, but not essential. They are mostly sketches and experiments that are really of interest to fans only. This will definitely lead me to check out more of their previous work. (theradiodept.com)

35. Moscow Olympics
Cut the World (reissue)
(Happy Prince)
In 2008 this Philippines 5-piece released their debut 7” and mini album before disappearing off of the radar. This reissue of their early and only released work reminds us all why they were such a find a few years ago. These kids were clearly heavily influenced by the work of the Sarah records stable from the late 80s and early 90s. The music is mixed in a mid-fi haze of atmosphere, while the winsome vocals are barely audible. This isn’t merely a revival of that Sarah sound though. These songs feel a bit heavier and are driven a bit faster and edgier. It’s an interesting angle they take. One that puts the listener in a sleepy trance at first, but over time the details start to shine through exposing an entire new light on the premises. Thank you to the Japanese for keeping the light directed towards this valuable release and check out the first new music from Moscow Olympics with their recent mp3 “Keeping the Avenues Open.”
(facebook.com/moskva80.com)

34. Mira
The Echo Lingers On: Demos, Outtakes and Rehearsals
(Projekt)
I was smitten with this band when I first heard their song “Cayman” in the year 2000. During that summer, I had a giant brain cyst that was making life increasingly difficult due to a never ending severe headache, numbness and a near constant case of the hiccups. Only a few things kept me sane. One was taking long fast walks, the other was golfing, which somehow eased the head trauma and nausea - though not the odd colors I was starting to see and the balance issues I was experiencing – and lastly, listening to the soaring voice of Regina Sosinski and the dramatic dream-like build and release of Mira’s “Cayman.” If you haven’t heard Mira’s blend of kinda gothic, ethereal, and shoegaze, then I would suggest starting with their debut self-titled album which includes the amazing “Cayman.” Next I would recommend you stop off at their third and final full length, 2005’s magically recorded There I Go Daydreamer, which includes their single “Window Seat” and sounds like its being performed right in front of you. This CD is a limited edition collection of some of Mira’s demos and such and is definitely for the old die-hards. Some of this is pretty sketchy what with rough live rehearsal recordings and some unfinished demos. However, the first four songs include their debut EP from way back in ’97 Something Ventured and it is well worth the price of admission alone! Throw in the added bonus of the surprising short pop nugget “For Now” that did not make the final cut of the debut and I found this to be a nice listen.
(mira.nu)

33.The Black Watch
Led Zeppelin Five
(the Eskimo Record Label)
John Andrew Fredrick’s band the Black Watch has now been grinding away around the fringes of the music scene since 1987 and never have they broken through towards any sign of exposure (other than a near miss with 1994’s career highlight Amphetamines, which is only notable because it could be found by the multitudes in used/cut out bins all over the record shops back then). This is a major tragedy! Fredrick is an English professor and would probably be horrified by my attempt at writing this (or any) review, but I will sing his praises anytime. This curiously titled album is the 11th full length album from TBW (the 10th for me, I have not yet found their debut) and please don’t be fooled by the name, because this is nothing like Led Zeppelin. If one were to reference a “classic” rock band as an influence, the obvious one would be the Beatles (whose “It’s All Too Much” is covered as the album closer – re-titled “Weirdly”), since these songs are streamlined pop songs full of vibrant melodies and hummable hooks. This album was released as a limited release on New Zealand label in 2010 (see obscurity reference above), but has finally been issued here on Fredrick’s own label. I highly recommend you take advantage of its availability, because this is their best work (among a discography of consistency) since maybe 1999’s King of Good Intentions. There are hit single possibilities all over the place with such songs as the hyper catchy “Emily, Are You Sleeping?” Or check out the mid tempo relate-able “Like in the Movies” and the magical “Earl Grey Tea,” which I think features lead vocals from recent guitarist Steven Schayer. I hope they continue to give this music thing a chance, because there are a few of us out there that welcome the new music every few years.
(myspace.com/theblackwatch)

32. Brittle Stars
Occasional Appearance
(Fastcut)
In 1999 Shelf-life Records released the quiet debut album by Florida’s Brittle Stars. It is the quintessential album of the entire Shelf-life catalog. It was also the only the only album they released (aside from a remix and obscurities collection), which is incredibly sad, because their soft mix of New Order and OMD electronics combined with the reflective sense of The Sundays was a perfect one. These are subtle songs that really should be heard by more people, but I think they prefer to be off to the side on their own, which is how I like to listen to such beautiful songs as “Tripping Me Up,” the momentous “You Went in Phases,” “May,” and the closing title track.  This is so good that Japanese label Fastcut has decided to release this album with a few extra tracks from the remix LP tacked on with nice packaging. Unfortunately, it has only been released as a limited edition, but hopefully this magical music will stay alive through word of mouth. This is my part.
(can be found at tonevendor.com)

31. Dark Captain
Dead Legs and Alibis
(Loaf)
Dark Captain has abandoned ship on half of their name. They may have dropped the too wordy addition of ‘Light Captain’ from their title, but their sound remains as consistent as ever. This doesn’t stray too far from the sound of their surprising and flawless debut Miracle Kicker. This is complex sounding music. Each song is built on top of busy repetitive drum percussion patterns and intertwining acoustic guitar lines that are almost too much for the mind to comprehend. It’s best to focus on the whole of their sound then the intricacies that form it. The simultaneous vocals of apparently all members of the band create an easy welcoming vibe into their dark world. When they find a groove with their unique sound, the results are really stunning as on “Submarines,” the fluttering “Right Way Round,” and the final open spaced “Flickering Lights.” They’ve added more layers of instrumentation throughout this album, but their biggest flaw may be that the songs start to sound the same with too much exposure. Much of this is to blame on the shared one voice vocals, which leaves less room for emotional inflection. Also, the sheer busyness of their sound can wear one down after so many songs. However, their sound is a great one and this is being nit-picky. Maybe their niche should be with EPs instead of LPs, just so we (me) slow thinkers can focus our attentions without so much effort. Start with Miracle Kicker and see if you like that before coming here.
(darkcaptain.com)


Please tune in next time for the next installment of the Top 40 0f 2011!



links: Top 40 #'s 30-21
                     #'s 20-11
                     #'s 10-1

The Dead Part of You

I paced around the back of the tee box slapping my shitty driver over and over against the dew slathered ground. Back at the Shan, where the golf nightmares never cease; the first ones out of the gate after a late night and a restless fit of sleep. This is it. The inaugural Grudge Match. Ryan and I challenged Eric and Wirtz to a straight battle over 18 holes naming it a Grudge Match. Ryan and I had worked ourselves into a frenzy, during a conversation one evening, where we went from thinking it’d be a good idea to get us all together for a round, to deciding that we’ve always hated them and that we must defeat them. The only problem was they are both much better at this wretched game than either of us – especially me.

“What are we playing for? What are the stakes?” Wirtz asked as he stretched out his back by bending over and burst the button off his pants. “Anybody got a safety pin?”

This course is terrible. And by terrible, I mean difficult. We’ve all played here so many times and I’ve hit a bad shot from every square yard that encompasses the property. So many bad memories, and yet I keep returning. This morning, I had been startled from a dream where Tiger Woods was being interviewed after a round here and all he could do was shake his head and say that he shot a 102. You’d think that would make me feel better, but I know it’s all a lie.

“I don’t know Wirtz, I’m not playing for money,” Ryan chimed in as he and Eric laughed at Wirtz’s struggles with his pants. “You guys are going to win, so I’m staying out of that game.”

“How about we play to the death?” I suggested sternly from my post at the far end of the teeing ground, before returning to my circling and pacing.

“Woah! Uh, no.”

“You afraid?”

“Let’s play for blah” Wirtz suggested as he put his bleeding index finger into his mouth to stop the drop of blood that he had exposed from the tip of the safety pin that he had used to fasten to his pants. I use “blah” because no one remembers what he actually suggested; a word I misheard as “souls.”

“It’s settled then, we’re playing for souls,” I decided as I adjusted the long sleeve mock that I was uncomfortable in, but found necessary in the heavy misty coastal morning. “Whoever wins gets to keep the souls of the losing team.”

“What?” Eric looked around, irritated. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I don’t have a soul,” Ryan proclaimed and therefore agreed to the terms.

Wirtz was simply distracted by his pants. This would not prevent him from hitting the ball further off the first tee with his 5 iron than I could hit my best drive. And it went on from there.

This is how I lost my soul.

I spent hours in the little examination room that doctors have, yet again. This time I was there to get the results of my CT scan from the prior week. Still I was asked to sit on the familiar little wax paper covered butcher block in my underwear shivering. As usual, the wait was long enough for me to “read” three entertainment magazines cover to cover. And as usual, the doctor spent all of two minutes with me. At least half of that time was spent tugging on my tender gonads. All in all, fairly routine. The only anomaly is that the scan discovered several breaks in my ribs. To look at this closer, he ordered detailed x-rays to be done and sent me to his scheduler guy to set that up.

The scheduler guy seemed awfully curious about my injury. Way more curious than my doctor. He asked if I had been in an accident. I told him I couldn't think of anything that would cause my ribs to break. He suggested that maybe I’d angered "someone" enough to lead "them" to beat me in my sleep causing us to laugh conspiratorially.

After my sinister forced laugh in response, I felt disturbed. Why would this be funny? Why would I want to treat someone so badly that they would want to break my ribs while I sleep? Of course, none of this matters, since I do not have anyone around to break my ribs during my sleep. Maybe I should've taken his jab as a compliment. It is rare that someone assumes that I’m in a relationship and not as someone who is falling apart both physically and mentally.

I stood in the kitchen leaning against the counter’s edge opposite of the oven. The light that illuminated the parking lot outside beamed some residual glare through the white blinds. With the black and white bands of shadow striping my T-shirt, I tried conjuring up an ugly version of the “American Gigolo” movie poster image. I failed to reach ugly, so I took a deep breath and grabbed my keys and headed out.

It had been one of those evenings. It was a Friday, and I was filled with restless energy, but there was nothing to do that felt right. There were no appealing shows. All of my area friends had plans with their significant others or were working. Generally, I’m okay with a night off, but staying in and watching a movie or listening to tunes with the headphones wasn’t in the cards. Every attempt to relax had already been thwarted by twitching legs and an inability to focus.

I screeched out of the parking lot in the floating old maroon Ford and turned the stereo up as loud as I could get it. My destination was to hit downtown, but I knew that it would prove a pointless journey. The late summer had been a warm one, and this night was no different. I pushed down the windows and opened the vents to get some airflow moving inside the stuffy car that had been absorbing heat all afternoon. I could feel drops of sweat drawing a line down my spine and my head start to pulse with irritation.

At each light on the way to downtown I sped off the line like a teenager so I could cut off the cars in the other lane. I was acting like a dick and feeling like one too. My mind had reverted back to High School and maybe beyond. I was back on Highway 101 cruising Wayside and looking for unsuspecting tourists to mess with. I didn’t care about anything. Everything was stifling oppressive and overwhelming.

The slow drift through the downtown streets unveiled exactly what I knew I would find: couples my age wandering the streets half-crocked in groups of four or six instilled with a boozy fearlessness and obnoxious demeanor. This could’ve been what I was doing if I ever had the guts to try and make time with potential mates and I looked on with a small bit of jealousy at the laughter and closeness they were all sharing. The rest of me filled with rage. This was the last thing I wanted. It reminded me of those early days at college; wandering around the campus on a Friday night being intruded upon by drunken idiots, while I tried to figure out how I ended up having to step over a passed out body and side step a puke filled urinal just to take a leak.

Outside the Lotus, everyone in the velvet roped off line looked toward my car as I stared them all down. My stereo blasted the high end chiming guitars and breathy harmonies of my favorite Swedish band Popsicle. In reality, the music was so loud that it had become a wash of white noise that was drowning out the laughter, chatter and thumping of the nightclub they were all waiting to access.

At the next green light, I abruptly turned the car left and made my way back out of the downtown grid. I couldn’t figure out what I was doing down there other than fueling my frustration and wasting time. I was tired of this night alone and wanted it to end. I hated myself because I knew that I would do nothing to try and avoid nights like this in the future. I sped back out toward my box and felt the emptiness of the rows of streetlights that were illuminating other apartments along the way. I especially noticed the ones with a single visible light on inside. It made me realize that I was experiencing the fate of many and it made me feel emptier.

Sick, Sober & Sorry

The sun shines down upon the front door of Harrison and Sara’s condo with an increasing intensity as the day nears noon and the freshness of the summer morning air burns away to stifling. A demented menagerie of summer related items litter the sidewalk. A pink flamingo leans against a tree about 15 feet up the walk, while a kiddy pool sits in the middle of the sidewalk impairing the travel of anyone who may happen to pass this way. Two folding lounge chairs are set up against the building in front of the pool. There are two young and attractive girls that move towards this mess.

“OMG! There are so many hot guys around here!” the brunette with tight fitting jeans and a tank top tells the blonde excitedly. “Two words for the guy back there: Buns of Iron!”

“Don’t you mean four words? Abs of Steel!” retorted the blonde as she reached down to adjust her short shorts. “These guys are everywhere and probably rich too!”

“I LOVE SUMMER!” both girls shout in unison and begin to giggle.

Their dialogue ends as they reach the plastic pool blocking their path and they begin to navigate around it in silent contemplation.

Suddenly Harrison rockets through the screen door in the attire of one of his alter egos: King Summer. He’s sporting a gaudy Hawaiian shirt, mirrored sunglasses, a Panama hat, a neon green zinced nose, Ocean Pacific long swim trunks and pink striped flip-flops. He’s carrying a huge fishbowl of green liquid, that overflows with tiny umbrellas and exotic fruit, which he extends outward like a chalice. He clears his throats for an announcement.

“KING SUMMER HAS ARRIVED!”

The brunette nearly stumbles into the pool from shock. The blonde girl grabs her hand and shouts “Run!” as they tear off up the sidewalk, almost running into Chuck who is approaching the condo from the opposite direction. Harrison continues to stare into the blue sky as if he is waiting for a response to his announcement from the heavens.

“AND IT IS A WHOPPING DEL SCORCHO HERE IN DOWNTOWN PORTLAND!” Harrison continues his announcement to the neighborhood. He holds his pose for a few moments longer, before his eyes start to dart around with concern. “That was your line.”

“Why?” Chuck asks as he reaches Harrison’s side. He is wearing casual black shorts and a silk shirt that is identical to “The Daddy,” a shirt that played a vital role in the prior evening’s activities.

Harrison plops himself onto one of the folding chairs, careful to balance the huge glass in his palm.

“AND IT IS A WHOPPING DEL SCORCHO HERE IN DOWNTOWN PORTLAND!” he repeats with a bit less enthusiasm and is once again met with silence. “And?”

Chuck looks down at Harrison and sees his own reflection in the sunglasses. “What are you doing?” he asks and turns toward the direction the two hot girls ran off to. “Did you do something to them?”

Harrison uses his mouth to blindly search for an unseen straw amidst the jungle of fruit in his fishbowl. His nose knocks several items off the rim and then he gives up the effort.

“KING SUMMER DECLARES THE ARRIVAL OF…” he holds his free hand out by way of introduction.

“What are you –“

“OF!” Mr. Summer emphasizes again.

“Prince Celsius,” Chuck finally responds nearly inaudibly.

Harrison, satisfied, leans back into his chair, “AH, YES, KING SUMMER’S ONLY SON, PRINCE CELSIUS!”

“You got a beer or something?”

“BEER? ROYALTY DRINK NOT SUCH AS THAT! THE WENCHES HAVE MADE SOMETHING ELSE FOR THE PRINCE!”

“Were the wenches the ones who went off running?”

Harrison, ignoring the question, carefully sets down the drink and leaps into the condo. He continues his monologue inside: “KING SUMMER’S DEL SCORCHO EL ESPECIAL!” Chuck hears him, puts his hands on his face and begins to nod his head side to side. “YES, FOR THE PRINCE! I WILL GIVE HIM YOUR LOVE, MY LADY!”

“If only this could be blamed on heatstroke,” Chuck mumbles to himself.

King Summer returns to the sidewalk with another leap and another giant fishbowl glass. This time the liquid inside is a deep red with nearly half a pineapple floating within.

“COME AND JOIN ME BY MY SIDE! RELISH THESE JUICES OF PARADISE!”

Chuck begins to fumble with the other folded chair still leaning against the building. No matter what he tries, the chair will not unfold. He is clearly getting agitated. “Fucking chair!” he shouts as he slams the still folded chair against the pavement.

“You have to get into character,” Harrison tells Chuck in his real voice. “That is the problem with you. It is all about the character!”

“Okay, how about this character?” Chuck starts with a threatening tone, as the chair unfolds itself. He immediately sets it down next to Harrison and sits down, as he continues: “I’m Prince Pissed Off and my minions will Del Scorcho your stupid ass!”

“You’re missing the point. This is all about the screenplay.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. You mean the one without the plot?”

“So much negativity,” Harrison waves the back of his hand at Chuck, who has spilled some red liquid on “The Daddy.” “Look at how many movies have been made without a plot. It’s all about the characters. They are the movie! No one cares about whatever Steven Segal’s motivation or purpose is. Don’t mess with the cook! Come on! Hell, people will pay ten bucks as long as he is beating ass. They’d pay more if his next nemesis turned out to be the Swedish Chef from the Muppet Show.”

“So, I’m seeing King Summer versus Segal. Who can make the worst drink?”

“Herdy Ferdy Foo,” Harrison waves his fingers around as he loses himself in his Swedish Chef impersonation. “Fine!” he shouts as he regains focus, “Bitch all you want, but the bottom line is that I am right and you are scared.”

Chuck ignores him and adopts a deep announcing voice: “Segal. King Summer. Taste the wrath. It’s not fear, but reality!” Chuck gives it up. “Okay, I agree, there have been some big box office hits that have no actual plot, but…”

“What? Then with the right characters we can have a big, plot less, box office hit too. Good characters are what people go to see. All we need to do is find them.”

“What? The people who would watch that shit?”

“No, you jackass, the characters. Characters are where it’s at. Without memorable characters, it doesn’t matter how good the story is.”

“Good point. So where do we find these new friends of ours? I hear 7-11 has some solid characters on sale now! Not only that, but with the purchase of a new character, you can get a free Thirsty Two Ouncer and a Big Grab of Chipsssssssss!” Chuck trails off.

“I think we know some people, who might know some people,” Harrison says as he stands up.

“Alright, fine,” Chuck concedes as he stands as well.

The two begin to head down the sidewalk in the direction the two girls had sprinted off to earlier, leaving the summer wreckage behind them with their drinks still in hand.

“Sara is going to be pissed about this mess,” Chuck points out, now several yards away from the debris.

“Nonsense, she appreciates our art.”

A skateboarder winds his way around King Summer and Prince Celsius after building up an enormous burst of speed. Unfortunately, his efforts to avoid those two left him distracted and he hits the pool at full speed and crashes over the top and onto the hot cement.

“No, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t.”

“She will awake from her slumber to find us missing.”

“And hope that we’ve been abducted.”

“And realize that the muses have claimed us.”

“Praying that we never return.”

written with Jeffrey Piering

Summerside

My mind is scrambled. My skin has been baked and my lips are as dry as the crackled desert floor. My calves are tight from being stretched out on the sides of hills and from not getting any rest. I have blisters covering my heels and toes and I have avoided eating an actual meal for days. This is the aftermath of my summer vacation and it was more than worth it! This week I went back to my regular life and my stressful job and my vacation came to an end. What did I do for my summer vacation? Not that anyone cares, but this is the first time in my adult life that I’ve taken a week off from work for a vacation. My vacation times have always been a day or two wrapped around a weekend, or more often sucked up by medical issues. I am thankful that I have had the luxury to take that time off to recover from some pretty difficult moments, but I have never considered a month off from work after a kidney or head surgery a vacation. When I scheduled this particular week off back in January, it wasn’t in order to fly to some exotic tropical location, or to go to some theme park or Las Vegas, it was so I could attend the Safeway Classic LPGA event here in the Portland area without the distraction of work.


Yes, you read that correctly - the Ladies Professional Golf Association. Every time I tell anyone about it, the reaction I get is something between a bemused smile and an uncertainty if they’ve heard me correctly. I have been a fan of golf since I was introduced to it as a small kid playing pitch-n-putt golf at the old Washington Park par 3 by the zoo and a television spectator of the game off and on since Jack Nicklaus’ riveting Master’s win in 1986. I remember trying to make putts into an overturned coffee mug set strategically around the house and putting down stairs, and off of walls, while the pros took care of business on our old incorrectly colored Zenith TV, which blinked in the background.


Why the LPGA? It is currently, the only professional golf event that comes to our area (besides now the reborn this upcoming weekend Peter Jacobsen event, which is just for fun more than for competition) and after my years of watching golf of any kind, I had started to get to know the players of the LPGA. It went from a good thing to throw on TV if I needed to take a nap on a lazy Sunday afternoon, to finding myself drawn into the excitement of the competition. Of course, my interest grew when I developed a crush on the young up and comer Leta Lindley when she was fighting for a win at the women’s US Open in the mid-90s (more on her later). Now I had a player to follow, and over the years, I’ve grown especially fond of many for a variety of reasons – making the LPGA TV entertainment that I seek out, if I am going to be watching sports on a weekend afternoon.


After finding ways to not go to the Safeway Classic for so many years (this year was the 40th anniversary of the Portland event), last summer, over the weekend, I decided to take advantage of the free passes that someone gave to me, and trek out there. At first, I was a bit reluctant, since I couldn’t convince anyone to go with me, but once I was there I was astounded. So excited, in fact, that I wrote a thank you email to the LPGA a week or so after the event. Here is an excerpt:


“This experience was really rewarding and entertaining. I’d like to pass along my compliments to everyone involved in putting on the event. There was a palpable sense of enthusiasm amongst everyone that I encountered throughout the event from the volunteers to the players. It was a nice change from what seems like an increasingly jaded sports world. I have attended countless Trailblazer basketball games, some Seahawk games and I am a season ticket holder for the soon to be MLS Portland Timbers here locally and yet I have never left any of those experiences – not just happy with the inherent drama of the competition and competitive spirit – but with such a sense of community. On that Saturday, my game plan was to witness each group make their way through the 11th hole at Ghost Creek and then follow the final group in to the clubhouse. I have played Ghost Creek a handful of times and have been killed by that hole every time, so I thought it might be an entertaining spot. While there I saw the players interact with the fans casually and comfortably, while making golf look way too easy. It was incredible to see! I remember being especially touched when I witnessed Paula Creamer, a big star on the tour, who was clearly frustrated with her putting and fighting hard to make the cut, still take the time to talk to a young fan and sign a golf ball for him. She did this despite storming away irritated at another missed putt towards the next tee box. I could go on and on, but I will close, simply by saying that I thank everyone involved and will be doing my part to spread the word that these girls do rock and so does everyone behind the scenes! Next year, I am planning on taking much of that week off from work, so I can see more fantastic golf and will encourage everyone I know to take some time to join me!”


Here I was, about to take my week off. I had considered going to the golf course early that Sunday morning to volunteer as a caddy for the Pro-Am tournament scheduled for Wednesday and Thursday, or even as a caddy for one of the players who do not use a regular caddy. However, instead I was invited to attend an amazing birthday event for my friend Ann in Boise, Idaho. It was a farm dinner, served outside during a beautiful sunset on a warm evening in the company of wonderful people with good wine and unbelievable food. What a start to the vacation!




After that quick weekend jaunt, I returned home to make a bit of progress with getting my apartment in order and getting my little car to stop sounding like a World War II bomber. With these things taken care of, I was set to attend the pro-am. With that, I was able to get up close to the players while they practiced on the driving range, and practice greens. I was able to see them prepare their strategies for several of the holes, as they mapped out yardages and the breaks on the greens. I was able to see Brittany Lincicome smash some drives way past her male playing partners; Paula Creamer turn from intently trying to figure out possible pin placements for the upcoming tournament, to casually sinking a birdie putt for her team and celebrating with them; then watch recent major champion Stacy Lewis describe to her amateur playing partner, in her Arkansas via Texas drawl, how best to play the hole they were on; and then watch defending Safeway Classic champ Ai Miyazato smile her way to a 30 foot putt on the 8th green. This is also the spot where I saw my old favorite Leta Lindley give what looked like a quick chipping lesson to a woman lucky enough to play in this event, who then hit her ball to within a few feet of the cup from about 60 yards away. After that I was off to play some golf of my own with Ryan and we had a blast! I regaled him with my bizarro observations of my morning with the ladies and did my best to learn from the little tidbits I picked up.


The next morning was the start of the tournament, so I raced out to the course to catch the first tee time just after 7 am. I watched favorite after favorite tee off and start their tournament with great hopes of winning the big prize on Sunday. However, after seeing Leta Lindley in person for the first time the day prior, I decided I was going to follow her and her playing partners around the course for the entire 18 holes. Leta has had a win in her career and a few close calls in some major championships, but she is not a high profile player. In her 16 or so years on tour, she has taken the bulk of two seasons off to have and take care of her children. She has always been consistent enough to grind out enough high finishes to keep her playing privileges on the tour, but has always been quiet, unassuming and under the radar. This was reflected in the fact that I watched her play 34 of her 36 holes over the first two days of competition and was often the only person standing nearby as a spectator – clapping my obnoxiously loud clap and trying to will all of her putts into the hole. The lack of spectators around her and her playing competitors saddened me, especially since the attendance for this year’s event was an all-time record of over 88,000 people – though somewhat understandable since none of these particular players were in contention after the first round.


Speaking of that first round, Leta, finished and made her way to the official’s tent to sign her scorecard, after a rough 18 holes of 7 over par (after a very promising start to her round). I found myself, after a quick trip to the porta-potty, standing in front of her as she headed to the locker room. I wanted so badly to talk with her. I wanted to let her know that she’s been my favorite golfer for a long time, but I panicked! She looked in my direction, seemingly recognizing me as the guy who clapped so loudly from under the trees every time she did something great. She smiled, despite being upset with her performance. I stared back blankly and she passed me by. I didn’t know what to do! I have never been one to be star-struck and I haven’t asked for an autograph since I was a like 9-10 years old when Jon and I would go to the Blazers rookie games and get autographs from the new players, Jack Ramsey and always the chatty Bill Schonely. I have picked up a few autographs from authors and musicians since then, but only when I am buying their product in a store or at a show when the artist is in the room. I didn’t especially want Leta’s autograph (so happy to have it though!), what I really wanted was to talk with her, but how else could I do that without seeming like a stalker?


That evening, after watching another group of players make their way around the course (no one can tell me that watching golf live isn’t the most active of all spectator sports!), I felt sick with myself. How could I let Leta pass me by without saying a word - without letting her know that she was so inspirational to me when I would watch her play golf on TV while sitting in my dialysis chair back during those dark days? This was especially true after seeing a clip of an interview with her, where her positive words helped shift my focus during the early days of my life without kidneys from simply trying to survive to striving to feel strong enough to get back out on the golf course and do my best to enjoy those moments. And these are things I achieved! In fact, despite losing much of my strength, flexibility and stamina, my golf game improved during this period of my life. I committed myself to watching her play the second day and rooting her on to a better day of golf and a chance to make the cut. Making the cut is vitally important to those who are not familiar with golf. In these tournaments, the field of around 150 players gets cut down by approximately half – the half with the best scores, while the rest are invited to exit. What this means, is that those roughly 75 players have no chance of making money for that week. This is extremely harsh when one factors in that these players often have to pay their own travel and lodging expenses. Golfing is not necessarily as luxurious as it may seem for the casual observer. I witnessed a young player, who was fighting to earn her first paycheck ever on the LPGA, bogey her final hole after she found water with her drive. She was reduced to tears as she realized that a par would’ve put her inside the cut line. It can be a brutal game and unfortunately, after 36 holes, Leta, who fought to a very solid one over par 72 in her second round (once again in front of an audience of mostly me), came up one stroke short of the cut line after barely missing a chip for birdie on the difficult finishing hole. I was heartbroken, while she put on a tight-lipped smile and again went to sign her scorecard knowing that she had no chance of earning a dime after traveling all the way from Florida.


When I found myself, once again, in front of her on her way to the locker room, I was again reluctant to say anything - even though I had vowed to myself that I would not freeze up again. But how does one approach someone who has just missed out on such an opportunity? The season is nearing an end and maybe she needed that paycheck to keep her playing status going forward, along with all the other important reasons that we all work to try and earn a living. In other words, I was afraid to bother her at what might’ve been a very frustrating life moment. It’s not like an NBA player missing a buzzer beater that brings a loss. That guy still gets paid and paid a lot more than these women do (I'm sure she's fine, but I am amazed at how little many of these talented women get paid as compared to their male counterparts). Yet, there I was mumbling a warbled “hello” to this woman, asking her for an autograph, and feeling like a little kid. She graciously agreed and seemed genuinely touched when I informed her that she has always been my favorite player and that it's been an honor to follow her impressive career. She apologized for her poor performance and thanked me for my compliment. I know that she would’ve allowed me to talk about all of those things I mentioned earlier about her inspiration to me and all that sappy stuff, but I didn’t want to take up anymore of her time. I settled that matter and was late for the Timbers game, which had just started and I was 20 miles from the stadium!


The tournament ended the following day with an exciting playoff resulting in a win by Norwegian Suzann Pettersen. An impressive final day comeback and someone who deserved some good news, since she had a friend pass away on her last week and also had reportedly gone to school with that guy who killed a bunch of people in her home country. She was easy to root for. Christine was kind enough to join me for the long walk around the course in the hot sun watching a bunch of golfers she doesn’t know, play a game she doesn’t know much about. I cannot say in words, how excited I get about attending this event. I used to imagine mashing up all of the tumors and cysts and cancers together into one big gooey disgusting ball that have haunted me and my mom and my brother and everyone else over the years who have been burdened with them and bury it deep under the earth’s surface out of harm's way. In this case, I wish I could physically infect people with my adrenaline and enthusiasm for this stuff. It is so fantastic! Yet, now the future of this tournament is up in the air, as Safeway’s sponsorship deal has ended. They could renew, or some other corporation could take over as the title sponsor, but if this event is lost, it will truly be a tragedy. This is the longest running event this tour, besides the US Open, and one of the best attended. The LPGA has been hit hard by poor governance in recent years and the terrible economy. They have been making positive strides, but this would be a terrible blow to lose this event and a terrible blow to my new favorite time of the year.

la lune

Swallowing down a burning taste of cancer and cringing from a rusty throat. Two plastic tubes dangle from a hole just above the heart without use and panels of several IV lines stretch out from the neck. An itch on the tip of the nose reveals what feels like a wire hanger unbent and then shoved into the right nostril and down through the back of the throat and on into the stomach. On the other end, another tube runs from the hanger into a bag hooked to the side of the bed. The bag is beige with a chunky viscous. The left arm is wrapped tight in bloody gauze and is throbbing to escape. The chest is trapped underneath a weight of monitors and tightly wound bandages making breath difficult to draw in. Wires and tubes strap the body down from all corners of the plastic bed, which somehow are keeping track of proof of life on one of the boxes with lights on the periphery of the room.


“A little drumming boy
Is beating in my chest”

Lights flash and scream out alarms, while feeble beeps come and go or jab at an annoying constant rate without consequence. A television shows a blurry figure dancing to the hum of quiet static in front of the moon from above. It is the only distraction from the various intense aches and stabbing stings taunting every second.


“Is this a competition?
I’m definitely winning
Because two by two
They came through
And one in every one
Fits a million”

Is this an experiment or simply organized torture? Is this worth a potential extension of life, or is it an extension of a nightmare? Choking down regret and questioning every decision and every move along the way. Is this all there is? Sensory deprivation is the only way to survive this moment and the moment after that. It is disorienting and disillusioning, but the only time that the pain is somewhat bearable. Maybe someday this will all end. In the meantime, it’s best to keep it all inside. Carry it to the grave. Pretend that everything will be alright and that it’s all worth the effort, while knowing that none of this matters. This is potentially how we could all find ourselves sooner or later.


“You keep on holding back
Can’t break it to yourself
That your life means nothing
But the fear’s making sense”



song lyrics: Sons and Daughters.

We Don't Need Nobody Else

Chuck leaned his arms heavily against the shopping cart as he prepared himself for a long wait in line. No matter which line he ever stepped into at a store, he always found the slowest moving line. He found himself behind the old woman who has to write a check and fumble through thousands of outdated coupons, which will cause a debate and more problems. He sighed as he scanned the tabloid headlines, uncertain who most of the people were. Had he become that out of touch? He then looked to his right and checked out the candy offerings in case the snickers bars were on sale. When was the last time they were available as four for a buck? No matter what the price, he still considered buying a couple. His next glance went to the poor girl working the register. How often did she have to deal with these arguments about incorrect coupons and fine print and how she’s not trying to rip people off?


Chuck was startled when his eyes went from this young woman’s nametag (he liked to use the checker’s names when he thought of it) to her face. Not only was her name Sarah, but she looked so much like Sarah from back in the day! She couldn’t be one and the same Sarah. There’s no way. This girl’s too young and that was what 15 years ago that he last saw her? His thoughts immediately drifted back to when he last saw Sarah. It must have been during the summer of ’96. He had been on his way over to Gary’s place with a new mix tape. The tape was a break-up compilation with a bunch of bitter one-sided love/hate songs. On his way, Chuck, stopped at a bagel shop to grab a snack, knowing that he and Gary would lose themselves to conversation and most likely not get any dinner. That was when he last saw Sarah. She was a girl that he had had a crush on a couple of years earlier, but she had been living with her boyfriend at the time. But when she had split with that guy, she disappeared from the outskirts of his little social circle. Yet, here, after months of not seeing her, he ordered his plain bagel with plain cream cheese, and she seemed to be reciprocating his serious interest in her. She smiled and chatted and asked a lot of questions and then followed him to a table. She touched her hair lightly as he mumbled stuff that had happened to so and so. She bit her lower lip and grinned as he made self-deprecating comments and tried to bite through the tough bagel without spurting the spread all over himself. Later she followed him outside, touched his arm and told him how great it was to see him again after so long. He then headed to Gary’s place in a daze.


That had been a crazy summer. Work had been busy all the time. He had experimented off and on with working second and third jobs. He couldn’t really remember much else. Were they still doing the summer bowling league? What about that tape? What was on there? There was most certainly the Kitchens of Distinction song “Now it’s Time to Say Goodbye,” which later became Gary’s anthem from that mix. Oh, and Animals That Swim’s “50 Dresses,” and Whipping Boy’s “We Don’t Need Nobody Else” – a song with lyrics like a short-story detailing a clearly messed up relationship. Wasn’t that when he and Gary jokingly argued about the lyrics? Something about the woman in the story putting bees or beans in her hair? Maybe they made a joke out of mishearing the lyrics, because of the uncomfortable violence in the song and, at the time, Chuck was feeling too good to be the outraged guy who needs to tell his friend that his ex sucked and he would be better off without her. He was bathing in the possibilities that seemed to open up when he ran into Sarah earlier that day.


“Sir! Sir!” this new version Sarah was trying to get Chuck’s attention. “We can clean that up for you. Don’t worry about it.”


Chuck looked into Sarah’s beautiful brown eyes as he stood frozen over a broken container of salsa that he had dropped between his cart and the conveyor belt. He felt overcome with regret. Why hadn’t he asked for the other Sarah’s phone number? He was always letting these chances pass him by without ever realizing it until long after the events had happened.


“I’ll get someone to clean that up. It’s okay. Do you want us to get you another salsa to go with those chips?” this Sarah asked, as if she needed to talk Chuck down from a ledge.


He stared down at the pile of crushed tomatoes with juice spreading out along the tile below and saw his heart smashed on the floor. He suddenly felt old – like really old – and helpless. He was now the person holding up the grocery line because of incompetency. All of the Sarah’s were gone. That sense of possibility and hope and excitement of all the Sarah’s had been lost a long time ago and he knew it.


“No, thanks, Sarah, I don’t need any salsa,” Chuck quietly replied. “I’m so sorry. I’m really really sorry,” he emphasized as he swiped his cards and tried to hurry up the transaction.


“It’s okay! These things can happen to anyone!” Sarah smiled brightly.


“Thank you for everything,” Chuck said with emphasis as he stumbled away.