Hit in the face

What's the best way to illustrate getting hit by a wall of cold water? Well... that just about does it.

It doesn't much matter what anyone else says. In my mind, one of the best albums of the year is Lungs by Florence and the Machine. Give me a break.

Give me a break.

I haven't felt music move like this since I was introduced to Ours a few years ago.

Renegade harps against a heavy tambourine and an open air, rolling bass drum? Really?

The only thing that has ever made me consider a song to be completely enjoyable is a singer who recognizes the musical demands of making the voice exist as an active instrument inside an orchestration.

People don't stop to consider the fact that just because an orchestra is no longer used to carry the main melodies, the ears expect just as thorough presentation of the sounds themselves. A singer is tasked with the sizeable chore of producing a melody that's previously been assigned to about 40 different instruments in a piece.

I'll admit the album's pretty heavily produced. "Rabbit Heart" has 6 or more lead vocal tracks at times, but the production is top notch. I honestly haven't heard such exciting production in a long time. They used three different producers throughout and... it's fucking brilliant. Finally. It's brilliant.

I heard "Howl" on Pulsar Radio and... that was all I needed. I was on it after the first listen. The strength of the vocals just demand attention. Her lyrical gait in the song reminds me of some of Maynard Keenan's (Tool, A Perfect Circle) vocals. Like Bono said, "It's not about what you're saying. It's about what you're saying." It turns out the majority of this album was written after the lead singer meditated on the future death of her father. The strength in her voice leaves me so happy to hear legitimate content again. An artist's performance is one part practice, one part skill and two parts emotional exposure. Listen to "Cosmic Love" and you will know what it means to command a voice.

Alright. "Rabbit Heart" is the wall of water that nearly knocked me out of my kayak yesterday. I can't explain it any better. The verses have a brilliant mix of vocal reverb and an absolutely monstrous call-and-answer chorus line that comes behind the melody and leads into a beautifully broken pre-chorus. There's a spooky and almost ancient-sounding harmony that just steals your thoughts at the time and your ears stop and listen to see a Life lesson might be around the corner. The bottom completely drops out and the melody is so solemnly delivered that even the least musical of listeners is forced to recognize the impending tidalwave that was just a swell of emotion.

The chorus lights up the air like fireworks, Christmas trees and human joy simultaneously... at least to me. The vocals are stacked and harmonized like a castle. And the producer did what so few actually do... allow a human voice to maintain a single note kindly atop the song for the entire duration of the chorus. Sure, it's a looped vocal track. But what the heck? Her voice sounds like freaking violins. Thanks for hearing it, producer-man. Thanks even more for doing it. This album is so refreshing. The drummer rocks the up-beats on the ride right through the chorus and... man... the album just... keeps... going.

I can talk for a long time about this album. I haven't stopped listening to it yet. For the time being, I'll just say that I've been seeing a very positive trend recently. Sorry if you've never heard this stuff. It's absolutely your loss.

I've spent much of my budding adult life with headphones in my ears. And from time to time, there are moments when I stop at a critical moment in a song and wish more than anything else that everyone else in the world could, at that moment, be instantly and (probably) violently subjected to the very same sounds. When I say subjected, I mean scaring the excrement out of the infantile and the elderly alike. Sometimes, I just think the world needs to hear a Scandanavian man scoring his throat and singing an ode to a serpent. Sometimes the world needs to hear Sting sing about fields of barley. Sometimes it's Azam Ali singing Middle Eastern classics on beds of electronic, downbeat Beauty. Variety is Beauty. Alas. If the internet is going to be the bridge between cultures, I suppose we should first focus a bit on the quality of life.

I'm going to indulge myself for a moment and describe to my virtual pals what I did over the weekend.

My Aunt was in town over the weekend. My mother planned the time down to the minute.

Other than the familial festivities, I found time to do a few awesome things. For anyone taking the time to decidewhether or not I'm just being a spot egotistical when describing what I do as awesome, it's an open forum and you can stop reading at any point. The few folks who know me will give me the benefit of the doubt. Seldom considered is the fact that we rarely actually speak to the benefit of the other person in a conversation. Much of our comments are made so our own ears can hear our own voices reaffirming our personal Life decisions. Suffice it to say I felt it necessary to do some pretty awesome things.

I rode a lot over the weekend and exhausted myself again. Ray and I did 19 miles on Friday morning. We didn't get to ride the whole route because I got a flat on my front tire from an especially determined rock. I remember running over it and it took about half a mile for me to notice anything was wrong. We did a field op and were back up and moving in 10m. I got home, ate about a 16" long breakfast pastry and went back to sleep for a couple hours. I woke up and scratched myself lazily until dinner time.

That afternoon, I went over to my mom's place and we (she, I, my sister and aunt) went out to dinner at The Grove. We all slammed pizza and heard about my aunt's trip to Italy. We ate well and the ladies just talked about things talkable. I just sat there, looked at other, non-relative women and ate my gorgonzola pizza. That's generally what I do... play eye tag with women I won't talk to because they won't listen. Generalization? I don't think so.

I was up at the crack of a foggy dawn to pedal all over town again. The fog was covering all but the top third of the buildings downtown. It was an awesome sight.

We rode the full route and made decent time. We broke 15mph. Ray was content and I was tired.

I celebrated my general exhaustion by doing laundry and playing guitar naked.

Then I took to the hills. I drove over to Audrey's place and went kayaking. I had kayaking on my mind and I inadvertently went out for three freaking hours.

I didn't initially plan on going out so long. But once I got on the water, I got all adventurous. I loaded a couple Eric Truffaz albums, Shantel and, yes, Florence and the Machine before I went. So I ended up paddling almost three miles in my bathing suit in the sun in mid-November. My phone fit comfortably in a subway sandwich bag and I tied it to the floaty-device. I battled the speedboats and I think I might have actually won. I stopped on the other side of the lake by and island with some swans and tall reeds and called my dad from the water. It was pretty fun... floating and talking about things talkable.

I paddled all the way back into the wind and the music was my engine. I'm not as sore as I thought I'd be and I'm thankful for it.

I came back last night and I have absolutely no recollection of what happened after that. I didn't bathe. I didn't check my email. I think I watched the Office and drooled on myself for a bit. I was exhausted.

Today was back-to-work day. I've already stricken most of it from my memory. Tomorrow will be the same.

I'm going to the store to get some ice cream and then look for plane tickets to somewhere for Christmas.

>> "Rabbit Heart [Raise it up]" on Lungs by Florence and the Machine