Nobody Wants to be Here and Nobody Wants to Leave

The Twilight Sad

Nobody Wants to be Here and Nobody Wants to Leave

(Fatcat)

It’s fitting that The Twilight Sad’s fourth album was recorded at Castle of Doom studios.  Though they do not sound like Joy Division, The Twilight Sad exudes a similar sense of doom with their music.  It’s not an overt, forced delivery.  It is a sense of an unspoken tragedy lurking just beneath the surface that comes naturally with every note played, and every word sung.  I don’t know what this says about me, but it speaks to me.  I cannot recommend their music enough, nor do I have the talent or breadth of language to express the reasons why.

The Twilight Sad’s third album, No One Can Ever Know (my #16 pick from 2012 seen here), was awash in keyboards and experimentalism, which was a striking change from their spacious landmark debut Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters and the claustrophobic, yet cathartic noise fest of Forget the Night Ahead, while this new album seems to see them returning to the basic guitar, bass and drums set, but now nicely augmented by the keyboard touches.  In a way, this album feels like a culmination of their entire career.  It picks and chooses from their strengths shown with each release and in a way have created their most spacious, melodious, and accessible album yet.

The album opens with the down tempo, but ominously building “There’s a Girl in the Corner,” where singer James Alexander Graham sets a story of heartbreak that “you’re not coming back from this,” and is augmented beautifully by Mark Devine’s muscular drum work, Andy MacFarlane’s tasteful guitar textures and striking keyboards.  On the next two tracks, the Sad up the speed and give us two sprawling nuanced and mesmerizing songs.  The first single, “Last January,” glides along with a relentless mid-range bass line and high end guitar flourishes that recalls the darkest early moments of the amazing Kitchens of Distinction, while the more grinding and heavier “I Could Give You all That You Don’t Want,” summons up a big, painful sing-along chorus.  Speaking of catchy, “Drown So I Can Watch,” is sinister and loud, but is an addictive listen. 

The Twilight Sad capture the slow gloom of early Cure (Seventeen Seconds and Faith) on the slow burning melancholy of “It Was Never the Same,” while the title track revisits the expansiveness of their previous album with the uncomfortable drum machine thump, an atmospheric feedback buzz and church like organ.  The album closes with a pair of haunting and slow songs that provide a sparseness that they have rarely displayed on record.  It’s difficult to pull out particular songs to highlight.  All of The Twilight Sad’s albums are best consumed from start to finish and this is no exception. 

Maybe the inherent darkness in this band’s music has kept them from achieving the notoriety and commercial success they so deserve, but it is their commitment and consistency that has made them such an important band.  I think their influence will one day be bigger than most of their contemporaries, so why not get in now, while we can go out and see them perform and enjoy the fruits of their labor now.

(thetwilightsad.com)

The Twilight Sad "Last January"

 

Unravelling

We Were Promised Jetpacks

Unravelling

(Fatcat)

It’s been three years since We Were Promised Jetpacks released their relentless second album In the Pit of the Stomach (my #10 pick for 2011 seen here) and for whatever reason, there stock has seemingly risen during their absence.  This is not a complaint, because they are a great band and I love to see the artists that I like find a growing audience, but it is curious that they sold out the Doug Fir here in Portland, where I saw them back in February without the benefit of any new material (live album aside), while their previous visit was as an opening act for label mates The Twilight Sad at an even smaller venue.  Now, just last week they headlined the Wonder Ballroom, an even larger venue, headlining this time with The Twilight Sad in support.  Maybe absence is the new marketing strategy.  I also saw the recently reunited Slowdive perform this last week and they sold out their entire US tour, while they were barely attended as an opener for Ride back in May of 1992.  Or it just takes time for word to spread, I guess.

At any rate, between albums, We Were Promised Jetpacks added a new band member, Stuart Michael McGachan on keyboards and additional guitar, and his impact is quite noticeable.  The elements of atmosphere that he is providing seem to have had a grounding effect on the band.  Their arrangements on Unravelling are fuller and more diverse.  The all out intensity of their first two ‘loud-quiet-loud’ albums is still intact, but not quite as in your face, and frankly, not quite as exhausting.  Don’t get me wrong, it is their all-in intensity that is what drew me to their sound to begin with, but it is nice to see them move beyond the on the verge of fisticuffs edge where they have always teetered.  Singer Adam Thompson continues to impress with his thoughtful lyrics, powerful voice, and assaulting rhythm guitar work, while lead guitarist Michael Palmer is now allowed to toss in some more intricate textures and layers, which only increases the welcoming rush when he floods the speakers with his overloading passes of noise.  Meanwhile, bassist Sean Smith and drummer Darren Lackie have really expanded their input, with an added element of staccato beats and spacious groovy post punk bass-lines that we first heard from the likes of Gang of Four and Orange Juice. 

It’s a bit shocking to hear the quiet and smooth keyboard introduction on album opener “Safety in Numbers.”  The first time I heard the song, my immediate impression is that they’ve been listening to too much Coldplay, with Thompson’s vocals smooth and soft vocal delivery.  Luckily, the song turns out to be maybe the strongest on the album.  Somehow it continues to build momentum throughout the entirety of the track making it difficult to move into the next song.  I actually played the song about four or five times before moving on.  Likewise, “Peaks and Troughs” builds and builds throughout, but instead of letting things run rampant and out of control as before, the song maintains its focus and allows its subtleties to drive its message home.   “Peace Sign” is another example of this new found restraint (and beautiful piano fills from McGachan) and yet still finds the time to reach for the noisy heights of past offerings. 

Elsewhere, “Night Terror” finds a buzzing groove with a heavy bass line and that staccato beat leading the way into an explosive chorus.  However, these new found rhythms are hit and miss for me.  While “Night Terror,” the grinding “Moral Compass,” and “Bright Minds” incorporate their new expansion of sound perfectly into the strengths that first attracted me to their music, the laborious “I Keep it Composed” feels tired, while the overly long and directionless “Disconnecting” bogs down the entire flow of the record.  I appreciate their experimental spirit, but this is really B-side material.

Despite one major misstep, this is still a great album.  The darkness of the story of someone (or all of us) unraveling throughout is actually tempered by the closing portion of the album – uncharacteristically allowing a ray of light into the band’s normally bleak outlook.  The heavy pounding of the powerful “Moral Compass” seems to find some cleansing and a resolve to try to overcome and persevere.  The majestic and spectacular extended instrumental passage “Peace of Mind” is a perfect soundtrack to a beautiful sunrise.  Finally, the closing “Ricochet” is a nice bit of reflection to end the proceedings.

I hope this band’s honesty, intensity, and ever expanding palette of sound continues to find a wider audience.  They are more than worthy of your attention. 

(wewerepromisedjetpacks.com)

 We were Promised Jetpacks "Safety in Numbers"

Spin-O-Rama

The Primitives

Spin-O-Rama

“Spin-O-Rama” 7”

(Elefant)

The slow re-introduction to the Primitives has finally culminated in a full length album of new material!  After eons away, they returned to action in 2011 with an EP (see review here), then graced us with an interesting covers record in 2012 (review here) and finally they teased us with the fun way pre-LP single, “Lose the Reason,” back in February of 2013 (review here).  They have always been a stellar singles band and luckily, “Lose the Reason” is included here.

It’s interesting to listen to new music from this band now.  I don’t know how to quantify my feelings for them.  I was a fan of theirs ever since hearing the spiky and endlessly addictive “Crash” back in 1988 and loved a lot of their songs, but never found their albums to be strong from start to finish.  Plus, I don’t think I fully realized back then how much of a 60s influence they had – it was simply somewhat disguised by speed and buzz in most of the songs.  It was the speed, brevity and feedback that caught me initially, so when they bring out their full blown 60s pop songs, I find myself missing the electricity.  About half of this new album sounds as if it were actually written and recorded in the UK back in 1965-66.  The songs fronted by songwriter/guitarist Paul Court especially capture this vibe.  “Wednesday World” relies on a spiraling rhythm, scratchy strumming guitars, Court’s mellow vocals, and drums relegated to the left side of the mix, but I have to say it sounds pretty fresh anyway.  Court decides to drop out on his breezy anti-9 to 5-work ode “Working Isn’t Working,” which is a sentiment I can definitely get behind (“I like to sit around”), but it’s actually the liveliness of the buzzing guitars and heavy pounding of the drums that emphasizes the chorus that sparks this song.  Less effective is the trippy (though, thankfully super brief) “Purifying Tone” and the okay, but somewhat aimless instrumental “Velvet Valley.”  Primary singer Tracy Tracy takes the lead on a couple of other Summer of Love style psychedelic pop songs with “Follow the Sun Down” and the bouncy “Dandelion Seed.”  

  

Thankfully, the Primitives have not abandoned their edge and they’ve clearly retained their strength for creating fantastic timeless pop songs in three minutes or less.  Lead off song, title track and single, “Spin-O-Rama,” is every bit the quality of “Crash” and quite reminiscent as well, with its cleanly picked guitar opening leading into a chugging number with handclaps and a serious hook (The single B-Side is the trippy, but really fun “Up So High,” making the single a must-have).  Likewise, the sheer fun whoosh of the organ in “Lose the Reason” places a thrill down the spine.  Meanwhile, “Hidden in the Shadows” allows Tracy Tracy to urge us the look for our own truths and directions and avoid being “tricked by a trend / fooled by a fad” with the same kind of distant disgust at what she’s seeing as she sang in the old favorite “Sick of It” way back in the late 80s.  It’s the song “Petals,” however, that has me truly realizing why I love this band and can never ignore them.  The rush and buzz and energy is in full bloom inside this treat, which rivals any of their great singles from the original days till now.  I absolutely cannot understand how songs like this cannot be huge worldwide hits, but what do I know?

Have a truly resolved my feelings for this band, or this album?  I’m not sure.  It’s a mixed bag, but overall with such great highs, it’s damn nice to listen to new material from this group!  It also helps that I have grown up and have a better understanding of both their influences and their massive influence.  Treat yourself and enjoy.

(the-primitives.co.uk)

The Primitives "Spin-O-Rama"

 

Feel Something

The History of Apple Pie

Feel Something

(Marshall Teller)

I love love love the 2013 debut album Out of View by The History of Apple Pie (see #2 pick of the year here).  I cannot emphasize this enough.  What it lacks in all out originality (really, what is truly original these days?), it more than makes up with sheer exuberance.  Rarely have I come across an album so filled with a clear and tangible energy.  That album bleeds with a rush of electricity and momentum and never ceases to paste a grin upon my stupid face,

Well, that was 2013, and now they are already back (like bands used to do – release an album about once a year) with their second full length.  Not a lot has changed, except bassist Kelly Lee Owens has been replaced by new member Joanna Curwood.  The band is still spearheaded by the wonderfully adorable Stephanie Min and gurus Jerome Watson and Aslam Ghauri, whose twin guitar assaults continue to astound with force rather than intricacy.  This time around, the sheer runaway whoosh of their music is tempered a bit.  That rarely captured runaway train that is their debut feels more studied here and it stifles the initial impression.  This is visceral music that tends to sound better the louder it goes, so reeling in the reigns takes a bit of getting used to.  Luckily, the band has added a little more variety to the mix to make up for the less aggressive attack.

We initially got a glimpse of their minor expansion with last year’s single “Don’t You Wanna Be Mine?”  This bouncy – echo laden pop number has more in common with early Inspiral Carpets than anything they’ve done before, especially with the addition of some crazy organ and a dance vibe.  This album is more spacious and open overall – allowing these new sounds to make their impact in a subtle way.  There’s 60’s groovy sound of “Special Girl,” which adds more new wrinkles with buzzing keyboards and what at times sounds like someone letting squealing air out of a balloon.  The piano driven shuffle of the other pre-LP single “Tame” again brings some addictive elements, even if it doesn’t have the same urgency of their earliest singles like “Mallory” and “See You,” but check out the amazing drum roll transitions from drummer James Thomas!  Wow!   The newest single “Jamais Vu” (or never seen) strikes maybe the perfect balance between where this band has come from to where they may be headed.  The song includes more deft musicianship and space, but they let things loose and unleash some serious noise during the chorus (“Who cares?  I don’t”). 

Unlike their debut this album took me a few extra listens before its charms began to batter their way into my thick skull.  The cracks started with the final three songs.  The stumbling, off-kilter beat of “Ordinary Boy,” at first feels discombobulating, until its quick transition into a wide open massive addictive sing-along chorus and I love the bridge with their trademark simple scales style guitar “solo” that is really a layering technique for an explosive instrumental rush.  Next up, the penultimate song “Snowball,” which should be a freaking huge radio hit all across the globe, reclaims this band’s strength of creating super sugary sweet melodies within bubbling over noisy chaos and I never want it to end.  Finally, the album closes with “Just Like This,” which acts as a perfect dreamy conclusion to a pretty good collection.

It will be very interesting to see where The History of Apple Pie decide to go next, but in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the smiles they’ve been giving me the last 18 months.  What a treat.

(thehistoryofapplepie.co.uk)

The History of Apple Pie "Jamais Vu"

 

We Come from the Same Place

Allo Darlin’

We Come from the Same Place

(Slumberland)

Besides poorly written music reviews and rambling directionless musings about medical issues, this blog is littered with half formed failed efforts at short stories.  These weak efforts I have sporadically posted have always portrayed moments in time.  The goal, I suppose, is to capture immediacy and meaning in the mundane – to find drama in the unspoken and undone.  Maybe this is part of why I draw so much from Allo Darlin’ (silly name aside), because singer Elizabeth Morris’ lyrics effortlessly paint emotional moments in time in so few words.  She can convey more imagery and meaning in one stanza than I could ever achieve in 4,000 bumbling words.

Allo Darlin’ have always evoked the emotional depth and poeticism of the legendary Go-Betweens, along with the simple charm of The Lucksmiths (especially their final LP 2008’s First Frost) – two long time favorites.  We Come from the Same Place is their third long player and it has a come with high expectations.  I was a little lukewarm with their 2010 debut, but once I made the effort to listen to the 2012 second album, Europe, I discovered that they were on to something pretty damn special (my #2 pick for record of the year – see review here), and it has remained on heavy rotation ever since.  There’s often a fear of what may come from a newly favorite band.  Will they stick to the same formula?  Will they expand and grow?  Will they somehow stay true to the spark that first drew us to them?  It’s a no win scenario for most artists.  If they don’t develop, people will eventually lose interest.  If they broaden their horizons, there’s no way to know if their fan base will follow them down that path (and then disparage them for making the effort).  Allo Darlin’ somehow managed the ultimate trick from debut to album number two, by sticking to the same formula, but making it sound more powerful and poignant.  The same cannot be said of the transition from Europe to this latest release, but despite sticking to their guns this is still fresh.  Maybe their strengths lie in the sheer friendliness of their sound and Morris’ words.  Paul Rains’ fresh and endlessly melodic guitar leads, Bill Bottling’s deep bass lines, and Mike Collins’ spiky drums fills are comforting, while Morris’ rich vocals and her sentimental vignettes of love found, lost, or missed from all over the world feel like postcards from one’s oldest and  dearest friend.  Their music contains a warmth and lushness that feels welcoming.

The album opens with the endearing “Heartbeat,” a tale of a drunken night out dancing with friends – probably in an effort to get over a recent break-up, so the fun and games is entrenched in lingering heartbreak (“I’m starting to think true romance is fictional”).  There actually seems to be a lot of drinking across many of these stories.  The wine comes out in “Angela” as Morris does her best to help a friend get through a recent break-up and one absolutely heartbreaking chorus: “And the hardest thing we ever have to learn is when those we love don’t love us in return.”  Meanwhile, “Kings and Queens” (originally released on the 2012 Where It’s At Is Where You Are Records 7777777 singles club release) finds our narrator hopping from bar to bar and feeling the high of being in love and having fun.  Rains joins Morris on vocals in the sweet duet “Bright Eyes” - reminding a little of the gone too soon Standard Fare, except things are okay here.  It’s nice to hear Rains unleash a little buzz and feedback on his guitar as this song climaxes.  The entire band brings an edge to “Half Heart Necklace,” where we find Morris delving into a song about falling for the bad guy.  There’s more upbeat pop perfection with “Romance and Adventure” – a song filled with mixed emotions, but the dreamy chorus put things on hold for a brief moment as Morris admits a need to revel in her sadness (“I’m just tired of being strong”).  It’s this open hearted honesty that is Allo Darlin’s strength.  When their earnest and tangibly genuine music plays, one can feel the passion of each song long before delving into the vivid short story lyrics. 

We Come from the Same Place ultimately comes to a happy ending.  The final three songs, though fraught with uncertainty, come to the realization and acceptance of finding love and a willingness to let go and enjoy the adventure.  The anticipation and nervous excitement of the record’s closing song, “Another Year,” is absolutely bursting in the slow glide and bounce of the music, while Morris describes a sketchy plane trip into the unknown and the beginning of a new life.  Because it feels so real, it is ultimately encouraging and inspirational.  Another lovely album.

(allodarlin.com)  

Allo Darlin' "Romance and Adventure"

 

Dreamboats and Lemonade

The Yearning

Dreamboats & Lemonade

“If I Can’t Have You” digital single

(Elefant)

Ever since I began my foray into the land of the LPGA the final week of August (see my previous post: New Life), my routine has been completely off kilter.  Until earlier this week, I have not turned on my stereo at home, in my car, or dialed up tunes while at work, which may be the longest I’ve gone without making personal choices with music since I was a little kid.  I’m not sure if I needed the break, or if it was something worrisome, but I finally cracked open some sealed records that have been sitting around my living room unopened for several weeks.

It’s fitting that the first album I encountered this week is the debut LP from The Yearning Dreamboats & Lemonade.  The Yearning makes music that I have been a sucker for since I was a child – music that transports me to someplace unreal but ideal, which is where I’ve found my thoughts most of the time these days.  They magically recreate the innocence of the late 50s/early 60s doo-wop girl groups as spear-headed by producers like Phil Spector and the Brill Building songwriters and bands such as the Ronettes, the Shirelles, the Supremes, Martha and the Vandellas, and my favorite the Shangri-Las.  Songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Joe Moore, along with the stunningly beautifully voiced Maddie Dobie have created a world where going steady and holding hands and a desire for a simple and true love has not yet been spoiled by years and years of jadedness, heartbreak, and the cruel realities of what humankind can dole out.  In other words, the perfect soundtrack for a person like me looking for a renewal, a redo, and a new spark.

“Dreamboat” begins this collection with sounds of an ocean shore and classic doo-wop “dum dum do-do-wa’s” from Dobie and Alicia Rendle-Woodhouse and a waltz that is exactly about drifting away completely with a special someone and it is so damn perfect that it seems like this song has always been around to hum along with.  This anticipation dressed in classic pop is also presented beautifully in the exciting “Tomorrow Night,” as Dobie prepares to see her beau.  The first single, and my introduction to the band, “If I Can’t Have You,” brings in a dose of longing, as Dobie emotes about having to settle for someone other than that afore mentioned ‘dreamboat’ atop a drum beat and a church organ that recalls the best girl group story songs over time (The digital single also includes the non-LP b-side “Gotta Pull Myself Together,” originally by the Nolans, new wave era girl group – only the Yearning washes away the dated sound of the original production). Similarly, the vocal harmony packed “Lemonade,” also finds our girl lost in dreams of a crush unfulfilled.

Meanwhile, the jaunty “Dance with Me” brings in a deep bass groove and would make the perfect soundtrack to the busy old rock-n-roll roller skating rinks that I’ve heard about or seen in movies - not the rundown, dirty, mostly abandoned, and creepy ones I remember as a kid.     Elsewhere, Moore channels his inner Ennio Morricone with the Spaghetti Western cinematics of “Marry Me in the Morning” and the Marty Robbins sounding “Every Time I Fall in Love.”  It’s the melancholic “Chasing Shadows” that really captures me though, especially once the scooting bass line delicately begins and the Camera Obscura-esque trumpet and flute orchestrations fill the room.  My favorite song here is the finale ballad “When I Was Your Baby,” whose simplicity evokes all kinds of sadness and a lingering realization that this was all a dream.

Moore, Dobie and company have crafted pop perfection that is an ode to a musical era from long ago, but one that is timeless and still sounds fresh today. 

(facebook.com/TheYearning)

The Yearning "If I Can't Have You"

 

New Life

Each year when I take time away from work and pretty much anything else that is part of my daily life to attend the annual LPGA event here in Portland, I am reminded of one very specific thing: the way I live my life needs to change.  It becomes more acute each year.

I’ve written incessantly and repetitively in this blog over the last few years about my obsession with attending this tournament – the Portland Classic (see Summerside, The Clown via LPGA.com, Numb, and Sparkle in the Rain for past recaps).   What began as a tournament that I sheepishly checked out on a whim in 2010 has now turned into my only planned days off from work and the main thing I look forward to each year.  This past weekend proved that the shine is not wearing off.  This was probably the best one yet!  Each year I throw myself into this event with more and more gusto and keep adding ways to get more involved.  It is this sign of life and burst of energy and enthusiasm that emphasizes each time how unhappy I am with much of my life outside of this annual week long event.

Morgan Pressel

 There are far too many highlights for me to even begin to scratch the surface here.  There are so many little moments that occur when the LPGA stars are just out and about everywhere you happen to venture around the golf course property.  I mean, just by chance, Morgan Pressel and I caught glances as she strode down the first hole after her opening tee shot during the first round and I threw up a silly wave hello, which she returned in kind, along with a goofy grin!  It was fun to see Hee Young Park jump into one of the local food carts to serve food immediately after shooting a seven under 65 on Saturday. 

Hee Young Park working at Bro Dogs

Irene Coe

I was able to meet two professionals during the early week Pro-Ams that I volunteer caddied for: the delightfully chatty and energetic Irene Coe, early Monday morning (who sadly had to withdraw from the tournament due to back pain), and the fantastic Swedish major winner Anna Nordqvist on the hot Wednesday afternoon prior to tournament play the next morning.  A friend also gave me VIP passes to the “Champions Club,” which is the hospitality tent perched behind the 18^th green at all golf tournaments - the ones where people eat and drink for free and seem to live a life I don’t really understand.  

Anna Nordqvist

The big highlight for me, of course, was getting to see my favorite golfer Jee Young Lee make the cut and see her hit every shot of all four rounds. I have chronicled how I encountered Lee two years ago with my first volunteer caddy group and how she became my latest favorite golfer, but this year, as I watched her struggle and scratch for pars and wind up only in a tie for 72^nd place, I wondered to myself: “why she is so fascinating to me?”  Why is it that I live and die with every shot she hits?  When she hits an approach iron to six inches for a kick in birdie, like she did on the 11^th hole Sunday, my heart soars with joy and I love seeing her normal stern determined game face brighten with a huge smile.  But then when she hits a dying duck hook out of bounds on the relatively easy par 5 seventh hole to score a double bogey (also on Sunday – just after I thought to myself, “Today is going to be a good day!” - proving that I am probably a curse), I feel awful.  I feel despondent.  I feel frustrated and I feel for her.  Golf, unlike most competitive activities, is so isolating and so exposed and a player is actually paid based on performance (i.e.: the worse one does, the less money they make, which means fewer opportunities to be in tournaments – imagine that in the NBA or MLB on a game by game basis).  So much of the game is played inside one’s head and there are so many things that can go wrong and generally do.  Jee Young Lee has all of the tools to be one of the best players on tour – I have no doubt.  I have seen a lot of great players up close and she has the tools.  She can hit it really far and straight.  She has the skill to get up and down from almost anywhere (as I’ve said before, she has hit three of the most amazing shots I’ve ever seen), she can curve the ball left and right.  Her putting is very smooth and consistent.  I guess I root for her so hard, because identify with her.  Why isn’t she better?  I don’t know.  I don’t know if she lacks the focus, or the confidence, or just has bad luck, or has simply lost the fun.  I often ask the same questions of myself.  I truly believe I have the tools to do a lot of good things in this world, but everything feels like a struggle and I never feel like I can excel or can break free from standing still.  But most importantly, I don’t feel much passion for what I spend most of my time doing.  It’s a terrible cycle that I know I need to break free from, I simply am not sure how.

Jee Young Lee putting

Every time I have seen Jee Young Lee play, she has had a different caddy.  This year, her caddy Kelly, was a northwest guy – from Gig Harbor, Washington.  I learned this because the only consistent people in the gallery besides me all four days were an older couple who followed JYL shot for shot just as I did. This couple were Kelly’s parents and it is amazing and sweet how much people will talk about their kids with very little prompting.  Apparently, several years ago, Kelly decided to pick up and go to the Bandon Dunes Golf Resort (amazing place) and attend their caddy school for a few days (my kind of schooling!) and become a caddy for the resort.  Well, eventually, through another caddy he knew, he was asked to fill in on an LPGA player’s bag for a week and now he has been doing so for a few years.  He travels the world, caddies over in South Korea for their pro tour during the LPGA offseason.  He went out and grabbed his very humble dream.  He does not yet have a regular player that has hired him.  His parents were hopeful that Jee Young Lee would take him to Evian France with her in two weeks, but that had yet to be determined.

I bring this up, because I have often joked about how I hope that an LPGA player takes me on as her caddy – snagging me out of the crowd during the tournament.  How I want one of them to take me away and rescue me from the sludge and grind I dwell in 51 weeks a year.  I honestly don’t know if I would enjoy caddying.  I don’t know if I have the desire to travel that much and have the guts to live without the security of a regular paycheck (only a select few caddies get that steady money making machine player on the pro golf circuit), and I would worry about my health care.  But the message rang out loud and clear.  I need to find a new direction.  It is past time to begin forging a new life – a new direction.  I need to learn how to let go of the security of doing what I always do, and have always done, and start the search for what will make me want to get out of bed each day.  I know life will always have its ups and downs, but maybe those down times won’t seem so insurmountable if I actually feel a little better about myself.