TwoBusy: Except for the Ghosts

October 12, 2009

Except for the Ghosts

11 songs to celebrate a month of spirits and memories.

1. Ghost - Midsummer
Midsummer have been one of my favorite obscure treasures for years, and Ghost gives you an idea why: shimmering guitars, intricate rhythms that grow increasingly complex with the flow of the song, Dale Bryson's plaintive vocals and thoughtful lyrics... it's just a whole lotta lovely. If this tickles your fancy as much as I think it should - and we both know how much I love tickling your fancy - check out some of their other songs on their Facebook page. The fact that it hasn't been updated in... uh... forever gives me the uneasy feeling that they're no longer a going concern, but if that's the case it's a legacy still well worth exploring.

2. Weighty Ghost - Wintersleep
For those of you who may only remember Halifax, NS band Wintersleep from the brilliant and sublimely disturbing video for Insomnia that I posted last November, here's a much different take from the same band: a charming, shuffling ode to the loss of self that takes pleasure in reminding you that - in the end - a ghost just needs a home.

3. Blessed By Your Own Ghost - Elliott
You probably don't own False Cathedrals. You almost certainly should. It's the undisputed high point of Elliott's catalogue, an album completely saturated with a sweeping sense of drama and nigh-overwhelming emotion, where the near-indecipherability of the lyrics does little to diminish the cumulative impact of the music. Whatever: the point is that I want you to love it. I also want you to love me, but for now let's concentrate on Elliott. Baby steps.

4. Midnight Ghost - The Gathering Field
It's a song about a train. As is the case with many songs about trains, it's kind of melancholy and kind of lovely. As is the case with most songs about trains, the train is a metaphor for something more than railed travel. "From this mountain I make my way along the railroad earth..." Bill Deasy sings, as the drums rumble along like wheels moving over railroad ties and the story builds and the guitar begins to reach and strain and gently weep, and in the midst of it all you find yourself transported to someplace both familiar and new. Which is pretty much what you want a song about trains to do.

5. Killing The Ghost - Matthew Ryan
Okay, I'm just about done trying to convince you about Matthew Ryan. This is another great song off his tremendous Matthew Ryan vs. The Silver State, and if you can't find a way to make his broken voice and impeccable sense of melody and remarkable ear for lyrics - "I will carve you from my life/I couldn't care less: it feels all right" - then I'm just going to give up on you altogether. And yes, I know I was just asking you to love me two songs ago. Mercurial is the way I roll.

6. Ghosts Of The Garden City - Caspian
I've been remiss in not singing the praises of the new Caspian album Tertia, and for that I apologize — because it's a towering piece of work. Their previous full-length The Four Trees was one of the best albums of 2007, an epic slab of post-rock that belongs right alongside the best efforts of Explosions in the Sky. Tertia, to my immense relief, is an entirely worthy follow-up. It's... well, this is where words fail me, because it's really difficult to describe how and why the music of lyrics-free post-rock bands like Caspian and EitS and Pelican and Russian Circles (or Mono, for that matter) can be so powerful and moving. So I'll let the song speak for itself. Turn it up to 11 and see where it takes you.

7. Ghosts Of American Astronauts - Trash Can Sinatras
There's nothing about the Trash Can Sinatras that isn't entirely charming, and while this cut from their On A B Road compilation of rarities & live cuts is far from the best thing they ever recorded, it offers a glimpse of the shimmering, harmony-rich musical sunshine that have made them such a beloved part of many people's lives since the late 80s.

8. Except For The Ghosts - Lisa Germano
Last week, I was Twittering Tweeting talking online to Sweetney about sadcore — the morose alt-rock subgenre that's spawned many of my favorite musicians. Afterwards, I realized I'd forgotten to bring up one of my favorite proponents of the style: Lisa Germano, an Indiana native and onetime fiddler for John Mellancamp responsible for crafting an extraordinary array of deeply troubling and often very beautiful music since the release of her debut in 1991. This song, taken from her gorgeous 2006 album In The Maybe World, gives you some idea of what she brings to the table. I recognize that it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I can't imagine there'll ever be a time in my life where something like this won't move me.

Alone in the sea
The deeper you go
The letting it be
Except for the ghosts
Except for the memories
Accepting the waves
And waving goodbye

9. Ghosts - Springhouse
Springhouse was an American shoegaze band of the early 90s who produced some very good music - Ghosts comes from their strong Postcards from the Arctic album - but their real legacy lies in the achievements of drummer Jack Rabid. Who is Jack Rabid, you ask? Jack Rabid is the guy behind The Big Takeover, the best damned music magazine in the world. I discovered it about 4 years ago, and it's been a life-changer for me: a music addict's wet dream, with 200+ pages of passionately written articles, interviews and album reviews (hell, that's half the magazine right there) delivered to your home twice a year. Rabid himself writes about half of every issue, too... it's an absolute labor of love. If your musical tastes overlap with mine in any significant way, I cannot recommend strongly enough that you make a place for it in your life.

10. Ghost Key - Isis
Isis is one of the leading lights of the post-Tool/Deftones movement of heavy music for thinking people. If you can get past the cookie monster vocals of the first two minutes, what you'll discover is a truly intricate and complex composition that develops over the course of 8:29 into something really fascinating and worthwhile: music that rattles your windows without sacrificing a single iota of emotional intensity and atmospheric weight. In all honesty, neither Ghost Key nor the album it comes from, Wavering Radiant, is probably the most user-friendly intro to the world of Isis (Holy Tears from In The Absence of Truth probably serves that purpose better)... but give it a listen, and you'll see why the Tool/Deftones comparisons make sense.

11. Ghost Ship Waiting - Mojave 3
The title of the album from which this song comes - Puzzles Like You - is entirely appropriate, as the evolution of Mojave 3 is one of the most fascinating and unexpected that I know. Back in the late 80s/early 90s, Slowdive was (alongside My Bloody Valentine and Ride) part of the holy trinity of shoegaze — a band that generated great washes of sadness and cathedrals of sound on songs like Catch the Breeze and Allison, captured the imagination of the British music press and European audiences, and ultimately petered out after a few years. Not long thereafter, two of Slowdive's key members (singer/songwriter Neil Halstead and vocalist Rachel Goswell) reunited to form a new band called Mojave 3, which - after its a-little-too-Mazzy-Star-sounding debut Ask Me Tomorrow - evolved into some kind of dream pop/country rock/folk music hybrid that produced some of the most consistently excellent albums of the past decade. Goswell split after releasing a fantastic solo album in 2004, but Halstead soldiered on, and in '06 released Puzzles Like You. Which includes Ghost Ship Waiting, a song that recalls nothing so much as the best of the Pernice Brothers: literate, bittersweet lyrics couched in hummable, radio-friendly music that has you tapping your toes (if you're of the toe-tapping persuasion) even as the darker lyrics embed themselves deep in your cerebrum. In just about every way except for Halstead's vocals, it's about a million miles away from Slowdive — but it's no less fascinating for that evolution.

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11 songs to celebrate a month of spirits and memories.

Alone in the sea
The deeper you go
The letting it be
Except for the ghosts
Except for the memories
Accepting the waves
And waving goodbye

Do You Hear What I Hear?

A Winged Victory for the Sullen: A Winged Victory for the Sullen
My 2011 album of the year. Achingly gorgeous neo-classical compositions designed to leave you on the verge of tears. I've been listening to it almost non-stop for months; you should do the same.
Hammock: Longest Year EP
There are few things more frustrating than trying to describe the gorgeous, evocative and profoundly atmospheric post-rock music of Hammock without A) resorting to clichés that, while not necessarily inaccurate, do little to accurately describe the listening experience; or B) having the musical vocabulary to adequately describe just what it is about these lengthy, largely wordless compositions that hypnotizes and moves me so profoundly. So I'll just say: imagine a film. No words; just images. Flashing, semi-grainy images of someone from your past — impossibly beautiful, vibrant and full of life. Someone lost to you forever. Imagine that feeling, of love and impossible longing and desperate, hopeless desire to recapture that moment and make it last forever. Now hunt down the title track to this EP, close your eyes, and listen. And you will know: this is the music for that feeling.
Peter Gabriel: New Blood
Man, what a disappointment this turned out to be. I've been a fan of Peter Gabriel's for more than 20 years, and while his post-Passion albums have been uneven at best... I was thrilled when I heard that he was re-recording some of his best songs with an orchestra. I grabbed it on the day it was released, tossed it in my trusty CD player, and... um... didn't love it. So I listened to it again. And again. And again. And now, after four full listens, I've concluded: this isn't music I can love. I mean, some of the songs work pretty well (generally the quieter ones — San Jacinto, Mercy Street and Wallflower are fairly lovely), but as a whole the album comes off as more of a compositional exercise than an attempt to create songs of real and lasting beauty. It's a crime, really, because the great strengths of Gabriel's music have always been rooted in his ability to marry thoughtful lyrics to passionate vocals and complex, deeply-emotional music that supports the first two elements. But here? The lyrics and vocals (and PG is, admittedly, still in very fine voice) are subordinated to overly-busy arrangements that rob the music of the very things that make it so extraordinary. It's a disappointing discovery, and to be completely honest the best thing about this album is the fact that it's forced me to go back to the original executions and appreciate, with a freshened perspective, just how wonderful they are.
Low: C'mon
A tremendous and much-appreciated return to form for this legendary Duluth, MN slowcore trio, and a welcome reminder of why they are both one of the very best and most interesting bands in the world. From the gorgeous, chilly-yet-warm harmonies of married folk Mimi Parker and Alan Sparhawk to the impeccable sense of atmosphere and dynamics that have always defined their finest work as a heady blend of atmosphere, melancholy and quiet beauty... it's all here. Look: just give a listen to "Especially Me" or "Try To Sleep" and tell me you're not charmed, moved and completely hooked. I defy you.
The Cure: Disintegration (Deluxe Edition) (3CD)
Why spring for the 3-CD deluxe edition, even if this is one of the greatest albums ever recorded? Three reasons: 1) Because the original album has been remastered, and now sounds better than ever — the bass is now audible, and the songs now offer a crystalline clarity that bring the aching beauty of Plainsong and Closedown to new levels. 2) The 2nd disc, which offers demos of most of Disintegration's songs, offer a fascinating glimpse into Smith's creative process. 3) The 3rd disc is a live album, and its version of Pictures of You is, simply, astonishing. One note: even better than springing for this? Is having @MrLady do it for you. I highly recommend that approach.

Reading is Fundamental

Daryl Gregory: Raising Stony Mayhall
Man, Daryl Gregory is an interesting writer. This is a zombie novel, but it's utterly unlike any other zombie novel I've read (and let's be clear: from The Angels Are The Reapers to World War Z and Breathers, there's a wiiiide range of very good ones out there). Why? Because our title character is a part of the Living Dead community — and he's as rich and fully realized a character as you'll ever come across: an individual loved by his family, first hidden from and then feared by the world, and desperately curious to explore and understand his nature. What, exactly, is he? How is it possible that he was born dead, is and has always been composed of unliving tissue... and yet still grew up? Gregory couples this greatly realized characterization with a compelling plot that follows Stony from his "childhood" on an Iowa farm to a growing Living Dead underground community to prison and revolution and beyond — and the result is a truly compelling read that blends some fascinating questions with a sense of fun and engagement that never wavers. This is a worthy follow-up to Gregory's "The Devil's Alphabet," and while neither of these two novels quite matches the dizzying heights he reached with his stunning debut, "Pandemonium," it's still a terrific read that deserves your attention.
Dennis Lehane: Moonlight Mile
When an author returns to a series years after abandoning it, it's frequently a journey fraught with peril. All too often, they seem to lose their handle on the characters and unique tone that made their earlier work so fun and successful, and you finish the book kind of wishing they'd never gone down this road. Having said that, I was grateful to discover that Dennis Lehane's return to Patrick Kenzie and Angie Gennaro in "Moonlight Mile" is an energetic and very successful reintroduction of the deeply sardonic (and funny) dialogue and dark & twisty plotting that made his early novels such an incredible pleasure. It's been more than a decade since Lehane left them behind to move on to "Mystic River" (still one of the best things I've ever read)... and when we rejoin Patrick and Angie, we discover that a decade has passed in their lives, as well. They've grown older (and possibly a little wiser), just another couple in Boston doing their best to make ends meet — when suddenly they find themselves launched into a search for Amanda McCready, a 16yo girl who a dozen years previously was the missing girl at the heart of Lehane's wonderful "Gone Baby Gone" (as well as Ben Affleck's outstanding film adaptation of the same). What happens from that point forward is nothing if not tremendously satisfying, and while as a novel this may not reach quite the same dizzying heights of some of Lehane's other work... it's an absolute, uncompromising pleasure and a welcome reminder of why we fell in love with his writing and these characters in the first place. Great, great stuff.
Emma Donoghue: Room
Yeah. It's every bit as good as you've heard. And every bit as lovely, heartbreaking and tragic, too. The idea is brilliant: Jack is five years old, and has lived his entire life in Room. With his Ma. And with occasional, after-dark visits from Old Nick — who, Jack doesn't realize, is the man who years ago kidnapped and imprisoned a then-19yo girl in Room. As far as Jack is aware, he, Ma and Old Nick are the only real people in the universe. Everything else - what he sees on TV and what little he can view through the tiny skylight at the top of room - is make-believe. I could say more to describe what happens, but really... there's no way I'm going to give anything away. I'll just say, instead, that Donoghue does an impossibly masterful job of creating an entirely believable 5-year old boy who might have been born and raised in such an environment — and who might react to the things he experiences in the way that Jack ultimately does. Every piece of this story has the ring of absolute truth, and that (more than anything else) is what helps to define it as one of the most haunting things I've read in a long, long time. Highly, highly recommended.
Greg Olear: Fathermucker: A Novel
I wanted to like this. I really, really wanted to like this. The concept sounded terrific: a SAHD in an upper-middle class enclave in upstate NY is told, during the course of a playdate, that there is suspicion his wife is having an affair. The idea is pure gold — a setting and a cast of characters impossibly ripe for comedy, plus an opportunity to add some emotional depth via the very troubling idea of a beloved wife (in an imperfect marriage) who may be quietly shattering our protagonist's heart. Unfortunately... the execution fell far short of my expectations. Let me be clear: Olear can write — he knows how to craft language and put together an interesting story. And he certainly does a credible job of recreating the vast wilderness of SAHM/D life in the 'burbs. But in terms of really delivering on either the comedic or tragic implications of the story... it fails. Problem 1: it's not funny. At all. And the fact that Olear clearly has the ideas and chops to deliver on a strong comic premise - and yet, consistently, fails to do so - became an ongoing source of frustration for me as I went through the book. I'll put it this way: a full-length comic novel that makes you smile and/or laugh a grand total of once? Is not a very successful comic novel. Problem 2: it offers multiple opportunities to broaden into really emotionally resonant territory, both as a function of exploring the wife's possible infidelity and in exploring the emotional impact of having a child on the autism spectrum (Asperger's, in this case) on a marriage. And yet, every time it starts moving in that direction... Olear instead veers into a machine-gun spatter of pages-long paragraphs listing people who attended a playdate and how they interact with and/or screw around with each other (or some other, similar tactic). It's as if he's hoping that if he dances realrealrealfast, no one will notice that he's not ready or willing to write with anything approaching real emotion. All of which leads me to this conclusion: I've read far, far worse books this year... but none that made me feel more frustrated or actively angry for not being better. (Disclosure: I was sent this book by the very kind people at Fathermucker's publishing house, whose name I can't think of right now. Thanks and sorry — I really wanted to enjoy this a lot more than I did.)
Warren Fahy: Fragment
Remember back when Michael Crichton was cranking out blockbuster-movie-plots-disguised-as-novels and every review was pretty much the same? The details varied from book to book, but almost without exception you'd read a review and learn that he'd put together a book with a propulsive plot, a bunch of surprises and thrills, lots of technical and/or scientific detail to show off all the research he did, and little doubt that the characters and dialogue were anything more than paper-thin. Well, Crichton is gone — but with Fragment, Warren Fahy makes a solid attempt to recreate the Crichton model... for better and for worse. The novel is basically built around the same initial concept as King Kong: a tiny, remote island out in the middle of nowhere in the South Pacific is discovered — and is quickly found to be inhabited by all kinds of fascinating monsters. Boatloads of energetic scenes of people getting shredded by the aforementioned monsters inevitably ensues. Fahy's Crichton-esque take is to cast this island and its bizarre inhabitants as an ultraviolent evolutionary offshoot, where billions of years of isolation have resulted in the creation of all kinds of horrifying and efficiently bloodthirsty inhabitants, including (most memorably) the spiger, which basically looks like a 15-foot long hybrid of a spider and a tiger (it even has orange stripes). Sounds promising, right? Until you realize that Fahy has failed to back up this premise with things like "believable characters" or "dialogue" or "depth." Which leaves us with a passable beach or airplane read... and not much more.