Elephant Talk

I’ve been listening to a lot of Wilco lately. Four months ago or so I didn’t have a single album. But so many of my friends praised them up and down that I had to give them another shot.

I tried once before, somewhere around 2002. That’s when everyone was talking about them. Their Yankee Hotel Foxtrot album was the cause de celebré for the independent minded youth of the digital age. It was a triumph of art over commerce. They were the band that stuck it to The MAN. Of course, that was all I heard about. Nobody seemed to mention the music. I hate that kind of media-generated buzz, so I had no interest in getting to know them.

But one day I was driving around Palo Alto with my girlfriend at the time. She was more curious than I was so she bought the album. OK, sure, let’s give it a shot. So she put the CD in the car stereo. Thirty seconds into it, I knew I hated it. Once I heard that sad-sack voice I thought “God no, not another self-emasculaed, indie whiner please.” Two minutes into it I couldn’t take it anymore. I begged her to turn it the hell off. My preconceptions were confirmed: Of course the critics loved them, I thought. These guys hate themselves. They fit perfectly into that drab, post-punk attitude where you have to sound like you don’t care. Critics love that shit. I can’t fucking stand it.

Fast-forward some five or six years into the future, to March 2008. I went with a group of friends to the Korean countryside for some fresh air and to climb a mountain. It had been raining the whole drive up and that night. When we woke up the next morning I opened the curtains and looked outside. The trees were dripping with last night’s rain, the hotel pavement was soaked. But it looked like the weather was going to break and we could climb that mountain.

And then someone put on some music. I heard this really nice, mellow guitar, and then the singer sang the first lines: “Maybe the sun will shine today. The clouds will blow away. Maybe I won’t feel so afraid…” Wait a minute, who’s this? Wilco. First song off their most recent album, Sky Blue Sky. I loved it. It was pretty, it was mellow, the singer was really singing, the mix was beautiful, and it was a great song. In short, it was everything my first experience was not.

And that’s Wilco. There’s a reason every website’s favorite adjective for them is “interesting.” As evidence of this, everyone I know who is a fan has a different preferred phase, a different favorite album. My friend in Pittsburgh thought nothing was ever quite the same after A.M. The bass player in my band prefers Being There. One of the guitarists in my band likes Summerteeth best. The other guitarist swears by A Ghost Is Born. His girlfriend digs Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. I, to this day, still prefer Sky Blue Sky by a mile.

Before I dig into my praise of them, and of that album in particular, I gotta get something off my chest.
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It is July 4, which is not only the birthday of the United States of America, it is also the one-year anniversary of this here blog. Let’s see, in that time there have been…

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Looking at blog stats feels wrong, but I do it anyway. I had a huge peak in January, when I was posting a lot about my Europe trip. I guess naming all those places got the search bots buzzing. Now it’s like a ghost town, probably because I don’t post very much. When life is most interesting, there’s less documentation of it: fewer photos snapped, less writing, less blogging. Interesting.

I’m celebrating America’s birthday tonight by playing my final gig with my band. The guitarist and keyboardist are moving on to other parts of the world. I’ve played with a lot of musicians in my life and been in a lot of bands, but this is probably the most talented collection of folks I’ve ever had the privilege of playing with. So it’s sad, but we’ll have fun.

It’s the end of an era. I feel a kind of fall hibernation coming on. But I’ve learned that nothing happens according to plan in Korea, so we’ll see how things go.

This is my favorite place in Korea — my balcony. Especially on late Sunday mornings.

My Sundays usually begin by boiling up some water for the French press, putting in a load of laundry, then sitting in my plush orange chair in my pajama bottoms. I’ll dial up some mellow tunes on the iPod, drink coffee, and noodle on my laptop or read a book.

I like watching the world move below me: cars race by, ajumas with Darth Vader visors push strollers, delivery men zip along sidewalks in high-pitched scooters, urban children bound around like forest deer.

It’s been a low-key weekend. I kind of blew all my energy Friday night. My band played a stellar show at the best club in Busan and we followed it up with a ritual sam-gyup-sal party. Saturday it rained all day, so I stayed inside and watched animated movies and started working on a guest lecture I’m giving at a university this coming Thursday. I got some text messages to go out, but I wasn’t up for it. After the electric events of the past week — a friend visited from the States — I’m enjoying the solitude.

We’re heading toward the end of the semester. Every semester is its own clearly distinct chapter. There is a beginning, a middle, and then, inevitably, a bittersweet end. It’s mostly a bitter thing because it means friends are leaving. In this case, two good friends and two bandmates. I said it before and I’ll probably say it every six months for as long as I’m here: Friends become good friends very quickly and then, too often, they’re gone just like that.

So while I’m sad at the change, and by the fact that the band as it is will end in a month, I know new adventures will begin when I come back from America in August.

It’s Friday, time for a little music appreciation…

The whole idea of a “favorite band” is kind of silly. I like far too many styles of music to have one, although if forced I could probably narrow it down to two. But my deep admiration and enjoyment of Iron & Wine has gone on long enough, so it’s time to push that number to three.

Iron & Wine is actually one guy named Sam Beam (joined occasionally by his sister on harmony vocals) so it makes pronouns challenging. I think what I find so impressive is how he’s able to craft songs that have a consistency of emotion, but wrapped in always changing production styles. His career is still fairly new, and I get the sense that he’s in the middle of something that will eventually be considered extraordinary.

There are only three Iron & Wine albums, plus a handful of EPs. The first album The Creek Drank The Cradle was produced and recorded solely by Sam. The style was very distinct: acoustic instruments such as guitars, banjos and slide, and a very close-miked whispering vocal. It was a lo-fi affair, with an intimate quality. But at the same time, there was something deep and spooky going on in the lyrics and mood.

Here’s one of my favorite songs, “Faded From the Winter”:

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I’ve been listening to a lot of Led Zeppelin lately. I’m not sure why, maybe because a friend recently mentioned “When The Levee Breaks” and that sent me down all those great old neural pathways.

I mention this now because I’m listening to probably my favorite Zep tune: “The Rain Song.” The seasons are indeed changing, it’s getting warmer, some interesting events and emotions are stirring around, all good stuff. Spring is by far my favorite season.

I went to the beach on Monday. It was a holiday, Children’s Day, so everyone had the day off. I ran into a friend there and we wandered down the beach so she could find a good place to paint a picture of Dalmaji Hill. Then another friend showed up. Then another. Then another. All random. It’s a small town of foreigners here in Busan. I went in the water, took some pictures, drank some rum. Then a few of us went to eat near the university and we met more friends there.

I’m hoping to go away this weekend. It’s another three-day break; Monday is Buddha’s Birthday. Someone mentioned something about the green tea fields west of here.

“The Rain Song” is ending. Time to end this post and go eat. Galbi awaits.

I feel like I’m not doing enough. I’m extremely gifted at wasting time when left to my own whims. I need some structure, like an organization, or a group of some kind, something I need to attend on a regular basis.

I’m sitting here in my office and there are some crazy, crazy sounds going on outside. It’s a huge traditional Korean drum group and it’s absolutely insane, like a manic Steve Tibbetts song without the guitars. There’s something about the combination of pitched metal and booming skins in seriously whacked out arrangements. I love it. Maybe I should try to join a group. I wouldn’t be able to understand what anyone’s saying, but I could still learn. I should look into it.

I also need to look into getting this abnormal growth removed from my jaw. But the thought of actually doing that terrifies me.

I woke up this morning and laughed. Last night was one of those nights, and it took about a half second of consciousness before I was overcome with the giggles.

We played an interesting gig at the newly remodeled Starface bar on Dalmaji Hill. Second song in, the kick head broke. So we collectively patched it up with duct tape and went back to work. It sounded like crap, but it held up. Other than that, the band sounded good for the most part. We made some very out of character mistakes, but played with good energy. We had heard there was a beach party that same night, so we were worried the club would be dead. But it was packed. Maybe it helped that we put up some cool posters:
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Plans are shaping up for a trip to Thailand in early May. It’s children’s day May 5, there’s no class that day, so it’s a good time to go.

The band is suddenly developing a sense of urgency. We only have about three months left in the current configuration, so we want to play as often as possible in as many places as possible.

I’m trying to book a flight to the U.S. for July 16th-ish. I don’t know if it’s fuel costs or broken airplanes, but prices are running about $500 more than they were last year.

I was frantically trying to finish my taxes before realizing that overseas citizens get an automatic 2-month extension. I have nothing to worry about until June 14.

I wish I would have decided to go see Kings of Convenience in Seoul last weekend. It looks/sounds like it was a great show.

I just bought Charlie Sexton’s Cruel and Gentle Things on iTunes. I’m about 26 seconds into it. So far so good.

The weather is beautiful today. Spring is, by far, my favorite season. It brings an underlying feeling of continual newness.

I really, really love my job and my life. Nothings perfect, and it shouldn’t ever be. But being alive is a wonderful thing.

I’m writing this post to express my sheer joy that Elbow is back to making great music again.

Their debut, Asleep in the Back, is one of my favorite albums of all time. It was a clear nod to Pink Floyd and Peter Gabriel art rock, but was groovier than both, with songs that had a strange and magical combination of intimacy and take-flight energy. Their two albums after that were comparatively underwhelming. Cast Of Thousands had couple good songs, but Leaders of the Free World, I’m sorry, was a dog, a sign of a band slowly eroding under its own high expectations.

But their new one, The Seldom Seen Kid is fantastic. I can’t stop playing it. It’s got great pop songs like “The Bones of You” and “Grounds for Divorce” with quieter, cinematic pieces like “Mirrorball” and “The Loneliness of a Tower Crane Driver.” In fact, every song is great. That was the problem with the last two; they were filled with filler. Not so with this one.

Here’s a cool video of the first single “Grounds for Divorce”:

And, for context, “Any Day Now,” the lead-off track from Asleep In The Back:

I’ve been discovered. Last night I went out to do my regular Wednesday night jam session. While up on stage, I saw several of my present and past students come in. They all seemed very surprised to see me there.

I get to campus today and, sure enough, word had spread. One of the Korean professors said “I hear you played last night.” A student who was there came up and talked to me about my playing. And one who was not there said she wants to see me play.

I suppose this is all fine. But I like to keep my university life and personal life separate. It’s not easy here. Students are very curious about me anyway — the strange creature from another world — so when they find out something new, word spreads. They’re very sweet, and I get a kick out of them. But I’m not sure I want them coming around every Wednesday when I’m hanging out with friends at the bar.

In unrelated drumming news, I’m finally getting around to learning brushes. It’s not like sticks, not at all. It’s kind of like learning paradiddle coordination all over again. But this time I’m sweeping and tapping instead of hitting. I have trouble remembering where the One is. But it’s gotten better. My breakthrough was starting with a basic pattern and drilling that into my head. My starting hand position remains the same regardless of whichever motion I use. This way I’m always aware of the One and no longer get lost. The next step will be getting better with the left hand lift to do a dotted eighth note. Every time I lift my left hand, there’s a dropout. I understand the right hand has to keep the sweep in that situation, but I can’t quite get it down.

Practice, practice…