See good music here:

I've been in love with The Arcade Fire for some time now, but hadn't listened to them for a month or two (oversaturation). Tonight I gave their debut album Funeral a play . . . and decided I need to share the love. If you haven't listened to this band, you ought to. Here's a link to a live version of "Neighborhood #3 (Power Out"). And if you're hooked (and have time on your hands), you ought to check out this entire live show (just type in "Arcade Fire"to the upper right search bar; the best cuts are "Neighborhood #3" and "Rebellion"). And finally, here's another series of live clips (interspersed with interviews). The energy is impressive. Please enjoy.

Addendum: for those who have yet further interest in this band, here's Pitchfork Media's stellar review of Funeral.

The List ( #2)

Book: The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Milan Kundera). As I am only partially through this fairly philosophical novel, and thus have yet to sufficiently grasp its themes, I will say very little of my own about it but will instead extensively steal quotations from it (much like writing a book report in high school). In short, The Unbearable Lightness of Being revolves around the Nietzschean concept of "eternal return," that the universe is eternally recurring. If a person lives but once, actions have no real significance, and that life is "like a shadow, without weight, and whether it was horrible, beautiful, or sublime, its horror, sublimity, and beauty mean nothing." On the other hand, Kundera continues in the book's opening pages:
"If every second of our lives recurs an infinite number of times, we are nailed to eternity as Jesus Chirst was nailed to the cross. It is a terrifying prospect. In the world of eternal return the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make. That is why Nietzsche called the idea of eternal return the heaviest of burdens (das schwerste Gewicht).

If eternal return is the heaviest of all burdens, then our lives can stand out against it in all their splendid lightness.

But is heaviness truly deplorable and lightness splendid?

The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to earth, the more real and truthful they become.

Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant.

What then shall we choose? Weight or lightness?"


Music: Ys (Joanna Newsom). There are two things about this recent release that made me a bit uncomfortable. The first is the medieval aura infusing the album (beginning with, but certainly not limited to, the album cover), which highly suggests that it would be appealing to those involved in the Society for Creative Anachronism. If you're unfamiliar with this group by name, they're often seen in your local park attired in armor and waving broadswords at each other. They definitely make me uncomfortable. The second thing is Ms. Newsom's voice. I've not heard anything quite like this before, and for the first few listens I unsure whether I found it infectiously beautiful or annoyingly grating. As a result of my initial skepticism, then, I was somewhat surprised to find myself so quickly taken in by this album. Newsom's unique voice (I soon decided it falls into the "infectiously beautiful" category) lilts and flows magically over her own harp playing and a lavish orchestration (arranged and conducted by 60's folk icon and producer Van Dyke Parks) to create an album that defies categorization (folk? classical? indie? . . . yes). The album's five songs are lengthy, ranging from seven to seventeen minutes, and they all lack a traditional pop song structure (i.e., little in the way of recurring choruses), which Newsom effectively employs to accentuate her significant lyrical ability and storytelling talent. While some (perhaps most) will find it an acquired taste, Ys is an exceptional piece of art, well worth the work of acquiring a taste for.


Drink: Unibroue Trois Pistoles. As previously mentioned, this dark ale was a gift (much appreciated). Rich, a little fruity, and 9%, this went down smoothly. A pleasant accompaniment to a winter storm (see the Dec. 4th post) . . .


Food: After the acorn squash exposé, I'm a bit hesitant to say much about what I'm eating for fear of having my bubble burst again. Fortunately, due to a rapidly defrosting freezer brought about by our six day lack of power, Jess and I have been eating a lot of previously frozen items. Not much of a bubble to burst there. And not much to wax eloquent about either.

Failing

So I have good excuses for not keeping up on this blog. And really, there are a lot of posts I've begun that have gone unpublished and will maybe someday see the light of the world wide web when I get organized and have a little more time, which will be next week. Really (at least if we weren't leaving for Christmas break in ten days). But seriously, apart from the day to day craziness that is entertaining, feeding, and changing the diapers of my son there was the two day climbing excursion to Jackson Falls, Illinois followed immediately by the Thanksgiving holiday and the celebrations that ensued. That gives me the right to be at least one week behind. Then, I was excruciatingly close to posting a review of Joanna Newsom's mysteriously beautiful new album Ys when Haaken dirtied his diaper again, my wife got home from school, and then we in Missouri (misery) endured what in most places in the world would be a nice, quiet, welcomed winter storm. Back in God's Country (Montana), when such storms converge we have Winter Wonderland the next day: nice fluffy, soft snow that blows across the road and conjures up dreams of floating down the slopes of the Ridge at Bridger Bowl. Here it's two inches of ice followed by a mere inch of thick, sludgy white stuff. Ice topped by concrete. You can't ski this stuff. It's like what happens (at least in Montana) when it snows, gets warm for about a week, and then gets down to about 5 degrees again. Except in Montana this takes a good part of a month. Here it happened overnight. While I will concede that the ice coating all the trees was quite beautiful the day after the storm, the havoc that ensued has rapidly outweighed the aesthetic benefit encurred.

The storm came on Thursday night, when I sat outside on our porch sipping a Unibroue Trois Pistoles (much appreciated birthday gift from Ben and Ellie) and listened to thick, ten-inch diameter limbs snapping off trees as the rain turned to ice and brought them to the ground. At the time I found the experience beautiful--I've always loved the violent power of a strong storm. Then I awoke at 2:00 a.m. on Friday morning when our power went out. It's now Monday night. Still no power. Fortunately we have good friends that have allowed us to stay at their place for the last four days, as temperatures have been around 1o degrees at night and haven't risen above 30 during the day. So the house is a bit chilly. I'm trying to keep the plants alive by stopping by every day and turning on the stovetop burners for an hour or so. This momentarily raises the temperature from 42 to about 60. At least we don't have to worry about the food in the fridge going bad, like we did last time we didn't have power for five days (i.e., last July, when it was a freakin' sauna in this part of the country--over 100 degrees and insanely humid).

So there's my excuses for having a lame blog space. I had hoped to post at least three thought-provoking, controversial, edgy articles by now. But instead I only have a few pictures, an introductory piece, a "List" that only makes me feel guilty because I labeled it "Week One" (which implies there will be a "Week Two," "Week Three," etc.,) and this. To whomever is reading this, my apologies. Someday, perhaps, there will be something that will make you think. In the meantime, I recommend listening to Joanna Newsom's Ys, reading Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being, defrosting some food out of the freezer, and drinking a bottle of Ommegang "Three Philosophers" (Belgian quadrupel ale). That's what I'm doing in Missouri.