Month: April 2011

The bigger the glasses, the smaller the eyes seem to be.

Things have been a little less busy here on the blog lately, but I assure you away from Blog Land I’m as busy as ever. Probably busier.

Still aiming for a May release for the next album. A whole lot of new songs have come pouring out recently, making for a very different album than what I thought I was going to end up with, but I think it’s going to be stronger for it. It’s also shaping up to be the most cynical collection of songs I’ve put together in quite some time, with song titles like “Emotional Blackmail”, “Stupid Borderline Love Song I Wrote for Someone Who Didn’t Deserve It”, and “She’s Someone Else’s Problem Now”.

Tender love songs, each and every one.

Something I think is interesting: during the brief period of time when things were going my way in the romance department, I couldn’t write lyrics to save my life. I’ve mentioned before that while musical ideas are always coming left and right, lyrics are a little more elusive and only appear when they want to. When I had a girlfriend (or something resembling a girlfriend) and all seemed to be going well, the words didn’t want to appear. At all. There was nothing there. And when I had a little bit of time to devote to music — not that I had much of it, because she wanted all my time to be spent with her even though she would do little more than chain smoke and dick around on Facebook for hours while I sat around wondering what I was even there for, only to turn around and tell me we weren’t spending enough quality time together and it was all my fault —  I found myself not feeling all that compelled to use it. The drive seemed to be missing.

So maybe I need to have a little bit of cynicism floating around in order for this all to work the way it’s supposed to. Or maybe my brief dry spell was more about what happens when you’re with someone who has no understanding of what you do, no desire to understand or be a part of it in any way even when you offer to involve them, and they have a way of making you feel guilty for devoting time to something that doesn’t have to do with them. And maybe that guilt chips away at the creative impulses insidiously.

Who can say in these troubled times?

Whatever the case may be, the words are coming now with a vengeance. Just last night I found myself writing something that I think might be one of the better songs on the album. It started with taking something nasty she said about me, turning it on its head, and following that thread where it took me. It’s another one of those things that sounds like a decent amount of craft went into it when the song more or less wrote itself and it all came together in ten or fifteen minutes. It’s always fun when that happens.

This month’s video progress report should be along in a few days.

Help is on its way, and all these stories sound the same.

This is another one of those times when I ask whoever reads this stuff to weigh in with an opinion.

As you may or may not know, I set myself the somewhat ridiculous goal of releasing four full-length albums this year (it would have been easy enough a decade ago when I didn’t care one bit about anything resembling professionalism or craft; it’s a bit of a different story these days), and I’m working on the second one right now. I hoped to have it completed and ready for public consumption by the end of this month, but it turns out there’s a bit more work to do than I thought there was. Coming up with new material faster than you can keep up with it will cause that to happen, it seems. Because of that, any album I make is continuously shifting and changing shape up until the very last second.

So a May release is looking a little more realistic right now. If I really wanted to go crazy, I could probably get it out there right at the very end of April. But I don’t like to rush things.

I thought I already had the album cover art figured out until I thought of something else and wasn’t so sure anymore. This happens to me every second or third album, I think. And here’s where any feedback anyone might have becomes useful.

Up until yesterday I was pretty set on using this Polaroid picture i took of myself. Don’t ask me how I managed to get the framing just right…almost every subsequent attempt I’ve made at the Polaroid self-portrait has failed pretty miserably, resulting in me wasting a handful of exposures and then swearing after remembering how difficult and elusive the film for this camera is. The important thing is, this one turned out. I like how i look kind of miserable and angular, though I assure you i was neither one of those things when I snapped this picture of myself.

Well…maybe I was a little bit angular. But that’s as far as it went.

So I’d pretty much settled on that. But then I came across this picture I forgot about (not taken by me) from a little while back. And I kind of like it as a hypothetical album cover as well. The background will probably be white instead of grey, but white wouldn’t show up too well here, for obvious reasons.

What do you think? I think i’m now leaning toward idea number two there with Sideways Johnny, though there’s also something I still like about the first image. While I was going to have my friend Lauren draw or paint me something for album art, for some reason I feel like my face needs to appear on this one. Every time my face has shown up on one of my album covers over the past eight years it tends to be obscured in some way, either in shadow or — in the case of MY HELLHOUND CROOKED HEART — in computer-animated form. I don’t know why, but I feel like it’s about time I showed up on an album cover looking like myself, free of manipulation or intentional obfuscation.

Because it’s a breakup album! Only not at all. A few breakup songs do not a breakup album make. But they’re really fun breakup songs, let me tell you. I think you’ll especially enjoy the one I like to call “I’m Not Your Dirty Little Secret Anymore”. It’s the catchiest piece of bile I’ve given birth to since the angry album with the wooden gun on the cover. In other words, it’s sure to make you swoon. And if that doesn’t make you swoon, surely the surprising absence of a long-winded album title will do it.

EDIT: I’ve been playing around with that second picture, and now I’m really liking this arrangement right here.

Pornography, as you’ve never seen it before.

THIS is what happens when someone with a rudimentary computer paint program decides to take a bunch of pornographic images and make them safe for the workplace and virgin eyes. I’m a little sad I didn’t think of it myself. Some of the images are so ridiculous I ended up spitting my invisible soda all over the computer screen. The video at the top of the page just about killed me.

You can thank me later.

MEDIUM-FI MUSIC… is on the CJAM charts yet again this week. I better get moving on the next album before people get tired of this one.

Anime and me.

This really has nothing at all to do with music, but hey…sometimes it’s fun to write about things other than the usual “I recorded this song about sticking my big toe in the toaster and waking up in Mexico, and it’s got a killer woodblock solo in it” business.

My sisters used to watch the English-dubbed versions of Sailor Moon and Pokemon on TV before we caught the bus to go to school in the morning. For years I assumed all anime was like that — hyperactive, seizure-inducing cartoons with voices that seemed ill-suited to the material. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to watch the stuff.

About five years ago, I was channel surfing one night when I caught a commercial on the Independent Film Channel (or IFC, for all of you digital cable fiends) advertising a themed week of anime films. This didn’t look like kids’ stuff at all. I’d never seen anything like it. Over the next few days I watched a few bits of the Cowboy Bebop movie, which I couldn’t really get into without the context of the actual series under my belt, and Ghost in the Shell. The English dubbing still didn’t sound right to me, but my interest was piqued. I wanted to know more.

I did some internet sleuthing and discovered there was this whole other world of “adult anime”, a universe away from the likes of Sailor Moon. I ordered a bunch of DVDs, because when I’m curious about something I tend to jump right in without bothering to test the water first. It’s a good way to drown. You see some interesting things on your way down to the bottom of the ocean.

The first thing I watched was Ghost in the Shell. It just about blew my brain apart.

I liked the way the animation opened things up and allowed for imagery that would never be possible with live action while also tapping into a kind of heightened emotional realism. I liked that the main character was a woman and she was tougher and more complex than anyone else in the film. I liked that the story was complicated and forced me to use my brain to figure out what was going on.

Watching it with subtitles and the original Japanese voice acting made a world of difference. This was serious stuff. It was a real movie with real ideas. It just happened to be animated.

Right off the bat, I seemed to gravitate toward the dark, weird stuff. Perfect Blue was kind of like an animated film made by the offspring of David Lynch and Alfred Hitchcock, filtered through the brilliant brain of Satoshi Kon (who sadly passed away not long ago). It seemed fitting somehow that after watching that movie I went on to have a dream in which psychotic croutons were devouring any plant life they came across. There was some concern that they might behave the same way around people, so I ran around a large park, closing a bunch of medieval-looking gates in an effort to prevent the evil croutons from spreading. I thought I’d eat a few of them while I was at it. They were surprisingly tasty for crunchy pieces of deadly seasoned bread. For some reason, I didn’t suffer any adverse effects. Later, I was playing basketball while wearing a Santa Claus suit. One of the other guys shooting hoops started getting in my face because I wasn’t the real Santa Claus. So I started beating the shit out of him.

That wasn’t even the strangest dream I had that night.

Some things I liked more than others. I enjoyed the original OVA version of Vampire Princess Miyu, and the original version of Vampire Hunter D had a certain creepy/campy charm to it, but neither one hit me anywhere near as hard as Jin-Roh: the Wolf Brigade. I found myself getting sucked into Serial Experiments: Lain to the point that it too influenced my dreams for a while. I was also inspired to explore Japanese films in general, discovering the work of people like Takeshi Kitano (who’s made at least three films I would classify as some of best things I’ve ever seen), Shinya Tsukamoto, and Takashi Miike.

The game-changing moment for me was when I sat down and started watching Cowboy Bebop. I read a lot about how Bebop was considered one the best things ever to come out of the field of anime. It was described as something of a gateway drug, in the same way the Miles Davis album Kind of Blue is felt to be a good point of entry for people who are new to jazz.

In my case the cliché proved to be true with Miles, but not with Cowboy Bebop. I waited until I’d absorbed several other anime titles before getting around to this one — in part because I was unlucky enough to read a gigantic spoiler on a message board that no one bothered to tag with any sort of warning. I thought a spoiler that size might drain some of the enjoyment out of the show for me. It wasn’t something I was going to be able to forget no matter how much time passed.

They don’t call them spoilers for nothing.

In the end, I decided I might as well watch the show anyway, even though I already knew how it would end. If nothing else, I wanted to see if all the hype was justified.

Good God, was it ever. I burned my way through all twenty-six sessions (or “episodes” if you prefer) and the movie in less than a week. I wanted to space it out, but I couldn’t help myself. This was like some sort of animated nirvana. Yoko Kanno’s music was part of it — eclectic to the point of absurdity, but never striking a false note. It felt like it became another character in its own right. It was more than that, though. Every element came together to create a world that felt real. I cared about these animated characters as if they were living, breathing human beings.

When the end came, it didn’t even matter that I knew what was going to happen. It still knocked the wind out of me. I think I watched the two-part ending of Bebop six times in a row. I didn’t want it to be over.

I also watched the whole thing in Japanese with subtitles. Now I know I couldn’t have done it any other way. Arguments continue to rage all over the internet on the subject of “sub vs. dub”. My position is simple: I want to watch a film or series in its original language. Always. I understand where people are coming from when they complain about how reading subtitles makes it a little more difficult to fully enjoy the animation (or, in the case of live action films, the cinematography), but once you’ve watched enough foreign films your brain compensates for the extra work you need to do, and after a while it doesn’t feel like you’re reading anything anymore. That’s what’s happened to me, anyway.

Cowboy Bebop does have one of the better English dubs out there. The voice acting isn’t wince-inducing like it is in, say, the original English dubbed version of Akira. But it doesn’t have anything close to the same emotional impact for me. Maybe it’s because I stuck with the Japanese soundtrack my first time through, and maybe I’m biased because I’m fascinated by Japanese culture and I love the sound of the language. I’m not so sure, though. I think the creator of any cinematic work has an innate understanding of what they’re trying to say that will always surpass any subsequent attempt at reinterpreting the material, no matter how well-executed it is.

This is one of the reasons I think remakes of foreign films are almost always little more than chunks of warmed-over shit that fail to justify their existence. Compare the Wim Wenders film Wings of Desire, which is a poem on film, to the dire Hollywood bastardization renamed City of Angels (Nicolas Cage screams! Meg Ryan has sex! Dennis Franz gets naked!), and you’ll see what I mean.

Or take Cowboy Bebop. There’s a scene in the very last session/episode in which two main characters — Spike and Jet — are sitting down to talk for what they know will be the last time. Spike tells a story that sounds like a Japanese parable. It’s a sly bit of commentary on what he’s been through and the action he’s decided to take. The Japanese voice actor imbues the words with a gentle sadness, adding a great deal of emotional weight to the scene.

As an experiment, right after watching that scene I went back and turned on the English soundtrack instead. I watched it a second time. The English voice actor, as good as he was at nailing the “I don’t give a shit” attitude that sometimes was just right for Spike’s character, didn’t seem to have any other notes to sound. It came off like he was amused by the story without feeling any deeper connection to it. It changed the meaning of the whole scene. The spell was broken. It just didn’t work for me.

Arguments for or against dubbing are kind of beside the point. The main thing is this: watching Bebop was a “eureka!” moment for me, and one of those great experiences where a piece of art takes you places and makes you feel things nothing else has before. Some people feel it’s overrated, and I’ve only ever known one anime fan who felt the same kind of connection with it I do, but for me it’s become the work against which all other anime films and series are judged. So far nothing has managed to surpass it.

When I went back and watched the whole thing for a second time last summer, I think I enjoyed it even more and picked up on some subtleties I missed the first time through. I hope like hell the planned live action remake never happens. The thought of Keanu Reeves as Spike makes me want to swallow my own tongue and lick my brain until I pass out from liquid pain.

Why can’t those Hollywood leeches leave the good stuff alone? Accept that you’ve been creatively bankrupt for years now, admit that your remakes are pathetic and repugnant, and take the advice the late great Bill Hicks gave to people who work in advertising: kill yourselves.

Of all the standalone anime films I’ve seen, one stands out here as well — Mamoru Oshii’s Angel’s Egg. One of the things I like about anime in general is how, unlike most modern American animated films, computer-generated imagery isn’t the be-all and end-all. A lot of anime is still largely drawn by hand, and this film is entirely hand-drawn, with not a single computer-enhanced frame anywhere. The craftsmanship involved is astonishing.

The film itself is strange, surreal, existential, and almost silent. There’s a total of maybe five minutes of dialogue, which just makes the details in the animation stand out that much more. The story only really involves two characters, one of whom is a young girl protecting a large egg while inhabiting a desolate, decaying city. The ultimate meaning of the film is left for the viewer to interpret. Character designer/main animator Yoshitaka Amano once said that he felt it was a very personal film grappling symbolically with Oshii’s loss of faith in Christianity.

Whatever it means, I’ve never seen anything else like it. It’s art in the purest sense, and the ending is powerful whether you know what it means or not. I’m still not sure I “get” it, but I feel it. If that makes any sense.

There are a lot of things I haven’t got around to watching that are still sitting on the shelf. Things like FLCL, Elfen Lied, Whisper of the Heart, Mindgame, Spirited Away, and others I’ve read about but have yet to pick up. I’ve been meaning to watch Grave of the Fireflies for years now, but I’ve heard it’s one movie that will reduce even the most hardened viewer to a sobbing wreck, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. Someday.

If it wasn’t for that little commercial I happened to catch one day on IFC back in 2006, I might have never seen any of these things, and I might have never discovered just how much creative and far-ranging work has been done within the realm of anime. So hooray for happy accidents.

Sing it out.

I think most people put it together that my last post was tongue-in-cheek. But just in case you thought I was serious, it was an April Fools’ Day joke. I have no plans to stop making music anytime soon, and I fully intend to have a new album to share in the next month or so. I just felt like doing something silly in recognition of a silly day, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to poke a bit of fun at some of the folks who have said in one way or another, “You shouldn’t do what you do the way you do it! Grumble bubblegum!”

The box of CDs at Dr. Disc is healthy again. I threw in some copies of CREATIVE NIGHTMARES this time. That one was out of print for a little while there. It’s a little light on copies of CHICKEN ANGEL WOMAN right now…gotta get more of the inserts made up with the “reissued” booklets.

Also, you know how I said I was thinking about taking the offer to play at the Shores of Erie Wine Festival? Well, now it’s official. On Sunday, September 11, from 1:30 to 2:30 in the afternoon, there I will be. Brace yourselves.

A gift for you.

Well, it’s time for me to pack it in. I’ve made a lot of music over the years, warped a few minds, touched a few hearts…but the thrill is gone, and I have nothing left to say. Best to quit while you’re ahead. So I’m officially retiring from making music. What’s next for me, you ask? I think I might chop off my hair, shave off the beard, and get a job at Tim Hortons.

In parting, I decided to do something special for some of the people who might be interested in checking out my music but are a little overwhelmed by how many CDs there are and don’t feel like digging into the original albums. I’ve compiled the very best work I’ve ever done and put it on one fat-free CD. I’ve also come around to the realization that digital distribution is the wave of the future, so it’s a digital-only release in MP3 form, and you have to pay $35 if you want an actual hard copy that doesn’t sound like donkey balls.

Here’s the artwork and track list.

CLICK HERE to download the free MP3s, and thanks for the memories.