Day 91

01: Mice Parade - What It Means to Be Left-Handed
What does it mean to be in the 8-15% of the worlds population that are left handed? Some say people who are left-hand dominate think about things both creatively and analytically in a different way than righties. If this is the case than it would certainly make sense that Mice Parade's Adam Pierce is south paw dominate; a musician plagued only by his struggle to cram all of his god given talent into each Mice Parade record. I've always wanted to place in band like Mice Parade. Not necessarily a band that is constantly genre hopping from complex folk and to post-rock, to styles like idm, or a project with with unconventional guitar work and mind bending polyrythmic drumming; but rather the freedom and creativity to be able to draw from so many inspirations and create something so incredibly unique and pleasing. The bands pulling of influence from foreign culture's music styles seem to be change from record to record. Whether it's the Chinese influenced sounds of 2001's Mokoondi, to the Brizilian stylings on 2004's Obrigado Saudade, Pierce seems to know how to fit world music into his tightly knit, polyrythmic masterpieces. This go around, West African drums and Spanish flamenco style guitars, hints of Tropicalia, Brizilian Jazz, and occasionally British shoegaze are fused with a first for Mice Parade, Indie rock. whats the result? Astonishing. Pierce bends transforms his international influences and marries them with his new affinity for American pop music. In most all of his records the stand out element is the percussion, however on What it Means to Be Left-Handed, Pierce tones down his bombastic rhythm section and lets the sublime nature of the strings and melodious vocals. In his most accessible record to date Mice Parade trades in vocal help from Mum's Kristin Anna Valysdottir for duets with equally as girlie and babydoll singers Caroline Lufkino, Gregory and the Hawk's Meredith Godreau, and Rwandan/Ugandan singer Somi; all of which compliment Pierces sometimes monotone, but still soothing voice. The overall all tone of the record is more concise than any of his previous releases and even though it boasts his same trebly guitar work and complex drums, it's the one record on this list that i can safely play in the office with my musically spoon fed army co-workers. That's saying something. It's great to listen to a band that is not only capably of putting out solid records, but also continues to get better and better as he grows. It is safe to say that Mice Parade have released my favorite record of 2010, a summer album that's just as good in the winter, an aural cartoon that maintains it's serious nature, a beautifully crafted pop record with all the bells and whistles of  high concept avande garde work of art.

-YtWt

Day 90

02: Grown Ups - More Songs

There are parts of me that want to hate More Songs, Grown Ups first proper release and follow up to last years mega gut-buster, Songs. It lacks almost all of the raw, noisy, lo-fi, shoot-from-the-hip style emo-pop punk that their ep was jammed packed full of. Where Songs sounded like a spur of the moment basement recording session, More Songs teeters on being over produced and overly polished. For instance there is a section in Songs version of "Three Day Weekend" the band uses a simple cough as a fill, in the new version removes the cough and replaces it with a standard drum-fill. When i played with Grown Ups earlier this year I asked their singer Doyle about it and he said the cough was a mistake that just fit.. Part of me agrees with the idea of not putting the cough in the new record because it would be disingenuous to try to recreate something so spur of the moment, however the cough is a microcosm for the sound of the entire record. When you get down to it on a literal level More Songs is exactly what the title claims it to be, it's all the tracks from Songs with a couple more; almost all of the ear splitters are rerecorded from the before mentioned ep and sprinkled throughout this record. Look, when it comes down to it everything about this record is asking for me to hate it, but i fucking can't, it's so fucking good that it's easily one of my most listened to records of the year. More Songs is such a fantastic display of what pop-punk could be if the musicians give a damn putting out a good product. Their impressive noodly guitar work and their ballistic, change on a dime drumming, serves as the perfect backdrop to the raspy, lung straining, squawks and chants. Grown Ups might be one of the most charming and infectious bands i have ever heard. Their music makes me feel young in all the best ways, they are the emo band I wish i had when i was fourteen. Every track on the record feels like an adventure, everything feels vital, important and so wide eyed it hurts. Sure the production quality takes away a little bit of the charm that Grown Ups came fully loaded with, but god dammit it doesn't matter, i'm going to go out on a limb here and say More Songs is one of the best pop-punk records released. ever. put that in your pipe and smoke it Tom Delonge.


-YtWt

Day 89

03: Castevet - The Echo and the Light

When I heard Castevet was scrapping their new record entitled The Echo and the Light simply to rerecord it, i was a little taken aback. To me the album sounded just fine; a perfect follow up to 2009's Summer Fences. But bands will be bands. For the months that I waited for the proper release of their reworked sophomore disc, I listened to the original cut of The Echo and the Light thinking, "This record is really solid, can they really make it sound better than this?" The answer is a big, 'Yes… Jesus Christ yes.' The second go around on this record is so mindsplitting and perfect it literally makes me want to call Nick Wakim and apologize for doubting them. Castevet are the rally call to a genre manly feel is , constantly repackaged fade waiting for it's swan song. If Summer Fences was their mission statement, The Echo and The Light is them taking their plan into action. This record is so bold in it's take on midwestern emo music that it's hard to pin them down. I hear a lot of people describe them as American Football meets Small Brown Bike meets the Appleseed Cast, but I feel as if those comparisons don't do the band justice. Sure they blend emotional burly vocals with sometimes mathy and rapid sometimes atmospheric post-rock instrumentals like the aforementioned bands, but however at this point in Castevet's career they seem much more in control of their craft. They have their obvious influences, but they aren't biting anyone here. The Echo and The Light opens with might be one catchiest rock tracks i've heard in a long time, regardless of genre; from there on out its game on. Where Summer Fences took time to breathe and was more a display of drawn out, slowly building beauty, The Echo and the Light is a brash, more condensed record, thriving with energy and liveliness. It's hard to say if I like it more than last years Summer Fences or not, but it is defiantly not a rehashing of the same ideas and it is most defiantly a record that demands replay. I would know, with over 350 listens it holds the title as my most listened to record of 2010.

-YtWt

Day 88

04: Deftones - Diamond Eyes

Better than White Pony.

-YtWt

Day 87

 05: Balmorhea - Constellations 

Much like the aforementioned Her Name is Calla, Austin Texas' Balmorhea play a brand of instrumental rock (or folk?) that doesn't easily fall in line with the more notable bands in the vocaless genre. The once duo, Last years All is Wild, All is Silent was a 'country' record in the purest form of the word; an album for the open frontier of the 1800's. Then again, All of their records have had a certain Civil War era quality about them, for instance "The River" off of 2008's Rivers Arms evokes a battalion of infantrymen trekking their way through a  harsh winter. Constellations is the second attempt at a full band, rather than a two man endeavor headed by multi-instrumentalists Michael Muller and Rob Lowe (Not that Rob Lowe). Everything about the the record and the band is an exercise in restraint and perfection; they band doesn't go for the quick gimmick or the frequent climax and crescendo. This record is so dusty and ancient it should be called pre-rock.. There's nothing post about this shit. These are songs for pioneers, rustic songs that sway and blow like the open winds.

-YtWt

Day 84

06: Snowing - I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted

Just when I think it's close enough to the end of the year to write out my favorite albums, Snowing goes and drops a a last minute power house. Snowing is one of those bands that knows how to package extremely personal, intoxicating content about being intoxicated and revealing extremely personal sides of oneself in sprawling, catchy tunes. Much like Maps and Atlases, bass player and vocalist John Galm's  nasally voice and unconventional singing style walk such a fine line of being irritating and genius, that once you realize how good they are you don't want to ever hear anyone else sing you songs. One gets the feeling when listening to I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted that the same demons John was facing in their debut ep Fuck Your Emotional Bullshit, his drinking, insecurity, his fear of ending up like his deceased father, and his issues with the fairer sex, are still in full swing. However, this time around he seems much more willing to open up and face everything head on, if nothing else for the therapeutic qualities of laying it all out on the table. Something that I find nice about Snowing is that they drink. I know this is a stupid reason to like a band, but in social situations so many bands in the scene Snowing is apart of flaunt the fact that they drink a lot of root beer. John is so open with his drunken bitterness and personal conflict that rather than alienating listeners he becomes such painfully relatable. Tracks like "Malk It,"  "I Think We're In Minsk" and "So I Shotgunned a Beer and Went Back to Bed," feature some of the bands best writing to date, angular guitar work, with steady and full drums, and wonderful catchy, honest, sing along vocals. The record plays pretty well, and then you come to track ten, a little track called "Damp Feathers" a track that is so good and such a departure from the rest of the record that i literally had to look to make sure that the album wasn't over and I was listening to the next band on iTunes. Soft, fuzzy guitars and steady drums as John puts more melody and less strain on his voice with very pleasant results. This is the kind of record that makes you so excited for what these guys are going to do next. It's not a perfect record but overall I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted is a giant step forward from their debut and a record i'm sure i'll be listening to much more than the 53 times i've listened to it since the five days its been out.

-YtWt

Day 83

07: The Reptilian - Full Health

It seems that when it comes to the DIY-punk bloguniverse everyone talks about Native, Native, and Native.. But The Reptilian are light years beyond what Native is doing (not that I don't like Native.. But come on, every vocal melody on Wrestling Moves is the exact same). From 0:01 the short but pulverizing journey of Full Health gets right into it, some serious tapping and a light-on-your toes dance beat kick in, and you're thinking "fuck this is pretty catchy," and then all of the sudden it gets real serious as some gruff shouting and all around bad assery start taking place. With only three members, The Reptilian is one of those bands that doesn't get nearly enough credit for what they do. They manage to pull of incredible cohesion with their starts and stops, and highly technical and intricate riffs that somehow are extremely accessible and catchy. No one can argue that these dudes don't know how to play their instruments. The thing that first drew me to the band was how much their music sounds like their name; its crazy but i can hear the sound of a Reptile slivering and squirming through their sound. The style they work with can so easily become convoluted, and yet The Reptilian manage to back everything they do with passion and a great deal of emotion. Full Health is such a short record, in it's limited play time comes so much genre bending, show stopping, emotional madness. I wholeheartedly think that anyone who is a fan of indie rock, math rock, hardcore, emo, or punk should have The Reptilian as one of their top groups.

-YtWt

Day 82

08: The National - High Violet

The National are a quintessential Urban Outfitters band, which to say the least is not a good thing at all. Not that they have any control over the fact that they sound like they should be bumped in UO, but you know it's sometimes hard to get past things like that.. It would be really hard to get past if The National didn't push out such quality albums; theres really nothing about this band that is 'Hipster Flavor of the Week." Alligator and The Boxer are classic indie records, both of which dish out wonderfully intricate drumming, somber-yet catchy Leonard Cohenesque vocals, and beautiful catchy guitars. High Violet is par for the course, but also a step in a direction that will more likely than not break them into mainstream status. It doesn't help that Bon Iver and Sufjan Stevens make guest appearances. Despite the overall self-destructive nature of the album, it is by far their most mature release to date. The National haven't exactly changed their sound, but rather refined it to near perfection.

-YtWt

Day 81

09: Yellow Swans - Going Places

Noise has and will always be a classification that I constantly question. When I go to a noise show, I always find myself questioning the legitimacy of what i'm witnessing; is this good? Is this music? What am I doing to my ears?… Things like that. To me noise is more of a performance art than a genre of music; a really hit or miss performance art. Sometimes it's laughable to me when these kids who obviously have no idea to play an instrument act elite because they can crunch and manipulate static with a couple pedals… On the other side of the coin there are artists like Tiger Hatchery, Ghost Ice, Raglani, and now defunct Raccoo-oo-oon, who produce powerful and intricate noise and ambiance that is really good and aids to the side of legitimacy of the art. Then there is Yellow Swans, well there was Yellow Swans, a group of two dudes that I like to describe as the Godspeed You! Black Emperor of drone or Stars of the Lid's evil twin. These dudes didn't just make static bullshit, they make god damn epics. Yellow Swans is a force to be reckoned with; beautiful, haunting, complex, interesting and fucking awesome. Going Places is the groups last recordings, a cinematic narrative of abstract sounds that feels expansive and original. It's a shame that this collection of pieces is their last work, because it feels extremely fresh and introspective. Noise groups are a dime a dozen, these guys should be an example to anyone wanting to explore the genre.

-YtWt

Day 80

10: Mark Mcquire - Living With Yourself

It's sometimes strange how purely instrumental ambiance and hazy textures can evoke such strong feelings and emotions, even without the guidance of lyrics. Nostalgic moodsetting bleeds through in almost everything Cleveland, Ohio's Emeralds put out. None of the members in Emeralds seem more in touch with their childhoods than guitarist Mark McGuire; a player normally more well known for his ability to make his guitar sound not like a guitar than anything. His brand of swirling poppy drone is what sets Emeralds apart from their other electronic peers. McGuire's solo records tend to focus more on the ambient, looped, experimentation side of the coin. I've always felt as if he was somewhat of an unbalanced player, someone that writes really interesting parts but for some reason is hit or miss when it comes to is songwriting ability and his accessibility. His records tend to be more bits and pieces of ideas that would be fantastic if he just took a little more time to hash them out. However, in his newest record Living With Yourself McGuire is in top form; creating a concise album thats oozing with bright combination of both unaffected acoustics, childhood field recordings, fuzzy, sun bursting electronics, and most importantly, good fucking songs. Finally, McGuire has moved beyond simply tweaking sounds and and layering riffs until they sound pretty, he's finally found his voice as a songwriter. For an instrumental release, it is so easy to visualize the narrative that McGuire lays out for listeners. Rich with delay his arpeggiated loops and moving, swollen textures allude to a man exploring his relationships, both past and present; with both friends and family. Tracks like "Brain Storm (for Erin)" are so emotionally charged and moving it's hard not to put this kid up there with ambient layering greats like Brian Eno. Last year McGuire's Tidings II was one of my favorite discs, simply because without a hitch it could make me fall asleep no matter what. Living With Yourself evokes completely different states from me, I don't want to fall asleep to this record at all; it's so dense and interesting that the idea of sleeping to it seems like a disservice to the genius that floods my ears.

-YtWt

Day 79

11: Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

The title of the album and the trainwreck public persona of Kanye West aside, the man is pretty good at what he does. This album is a kick in the dick. Everyone from Bon Iver to RZA are on this beast. It's a power house. It's harder for me to describe hip hop music than any other genre.. But Kanyes instrumentals are better, his rhymes are better, his subject matter is better.. I don't actually want to talk about this record really.. It's good.

-YtWt

Day 78

12: Her Name Is Calla - The Quiet Lamb

How strange to hear an album with such magnitude and at the same time, such a sense of patience. I honestly believe that at this point it's really strange to listen to a post-rock album and get surprised when there is a huge, epic section.. The Quiet Lamb is so reserved and yielded in the way it plays out;  So when "Candor and River" gets real fucking dangerous, it's shocking. The record up to this point is almost like a novel; it's unique dynamic allowing time and space to take over as it lazily interweaves beautiful storytelling. There is an sense of a morose, inescapable, landscape that is washed over the tone of each of the songs; and while it's strange to relate an album to a color, I will say that The Quiet Lamb makes me think of a bleak gray or pale white. While the record may harness the premise of doom, that's not to say that the record is without beauty, far from it. Stunning violins, banjos, pianos layer over tracks like "Giant Moss" and "Long Grass."  It's softer, more striped down and traditional folk tracks like "Homecoming" are flawless and gorgeous. Throughout, the vocal element is used sparingly and to perfection; oftentimes, simply another texture. The singing is so ominous and beautiful, that it's almost a shame there isn't more of it. When playing it in the office, someone curiously asked if i was listening to "Ave Maria." While completely off base in his assumption, the beauty in The Quiet Lamb is evident in his query; vocally speaking, the album is nothing short of a classic composition. However, when it comes down to it The Quiet Lamb is more of a folk record than anything, but it pulls off so much more than a traditional release in that genre. The record is sprawling and inquisitive, it's so haunting and delicate, all the while maintaining it's folk roots. It's worldly vibe brings to mind a world uninhabited by humans, a world where nature is plentiful and once again, the true and rightful ruler of the earth. It's in this that the record is a true folk album at heart, an album laced with reverence for the planet. If more post-rock bands put as much love and innovation into their records, the genre wouldn't get the bad rep it's sometimes dealt. Her Name is Calla have created a record so far from all the Godspeed You Mogwais in the Sky bands and is nothing short of a masterpiece. The Quiet Lamb is undoubtedly this years best release in the genre, and should be seen as a staple and a lesson to all post-rock musicians, that you don't have to be huge to be huge.

-YtWt

Day 77

13: Maserati - Pyramid of the Sun

Maserati is one of those bands that i've known about for years but only started listening to earlier this year.  Their hyper-technical, delay laden groove oriented post-rock is as unique as it is impressive. Pyramid of the Sun is no different in this regard, however it succeeds in reducing any of their past efforts to mere exercises. Pyramid covers so much ground in it's mere eight tracks, everything from rock-based grooves to thick synth-prog math rock. Every song on the record is an experience and even more so a time piece, documenting the last works of late drummer, Jerry Fuchs. His precise and powerful playing is immediately felt from the opening to the last measure of the closer. While it's a shame to know that this is the last we will ever hear from him, it's comforting to know that he left such a brilliant piece of work behind. Everything about the records soars above past works and stands as a testament to the players passion and abilities.

-YtWt

Day 76

14: Envy - Recitation

The way I see it, when it comets hardcore music, fuck every other band in the world cause Envy is still around, holding it down. are legends of hardcore music. No other singer in the genre holds a candle to the heartbreaking stylings of Tetsuya. I have no fucking idea what he's growling about, but it affects me more than all the other cats whose words I grasp. Musically the band seems to be tailored specifically towards my interests: a screamo band evolving and experimenting with post-rock convictions. In my opinion, the transition towards more introspective and atmospheric releases has been really smooth. Both Abyssal and Insomniac Doze fused the two genres together flawlessly; and while a lot of purists will say that All the Footprints You've Ever Left and the Fear Expected Ahead and A Dead Sinking Story both show Envy at the top of their game; I would argue that any band who refuses to grow and experiment is doomed to become redundant. Their willingness to try new things and expand outside of their comfort zone, is what really sets Envy apart from the hundreds of bands playing aggressive music. Envy is truly an inspired band with a genuine aura of creativity that surrounds them. Recitation is one of those wonderful experiences that blends their newfound love for dramatic undercurrents and their old, gut-punchers. I'd like to think of it as A Dead Sinking Story mixed with Insomniac Doze. The atmospherics are still there but the album as a whole feels a lot lighter and uplifting. The cohesive nature of the album feels effortless, as each song is woven together by segments of Tetsuya speaking softly (however, it should be noted that this is the only time I wished I could understand what he was saying). Everything about the ebb and flow of the album is perfectly in sync, this band that started almost twenty years ago feels fresh and wide eyed, and yet there is a mature harmony at work. It may be less inspired than other Envy releases, but it is without a doubt their most grown up record to date.

-YtWt

Day 75

15: Beach House - Teen Dream

I'm not going to lie to myself, even though i've told people that I like Beach House, i've kind of never really given a shit about them. I really have nothing against their Sk-1 drum beats, baritone vocals, or synth layered atmospheric dream-pop songs.. But at the same time I never want to listen to Beach House and I always have a hard time getting through their first two full lengths. It's beautiful and it's good, I know I know.. But it also kind of bores me a lot of the time and I find that the music starts to drag and it makes me feel like time is going slow; not slow in a romantic, "I want this moment to last forever" kind of way… More like a "mother fucker, is it really 3:13 still? I swear it was 3:13 at least 2 minutes ago… hmmm weird." So when Teen Dream came out, I downloaded it and let it sit on my ipod, without a single listen, until around August when I went through a "I'm going to listen to all the records I normally wouldn't ever want to listen to" phase. It was night time and I decided I didn't care if the record made time slow down, because that just meant more time to sleep. Then I hit play and "Zebra" starts and I lost my cookies. It was beautiful, textured, catchy, emotional, and not boring at all; in fact quite the opposite, it was delicate and interesting. In this record Victoria Legrand doesn't sound bored to be making a record, she sounds soulful and enchanting. Down to the core this record is sad and has so many heartbreaking qualities to it, even though I have no fucking idea what that gel is singing about, i'm pretty sure it's some heavy stuff and i'm pretty sure I can relate. Songs like "Norway" and "Used to Be" invoke Stevie Nicks in her Fleetwood Mac days just for the chorus, then it's back to that same old dreamy Beach House sound, which in this record is perfectly acceptable. "Walk in the Park" is by far the stand out track, with a shimmering chorus so enchanting it's untouchable by the rest of the album. I could suck this albums dick for a while longer, but it's 4:35 a.m. and the record is not really slowing down time. When you get down to brass tax, Teen Dream doesn't really make me want to go back and listen to Devotion or their self titled release very much, because I know that shit doesn't hold a candle to what Teen Dream is working with. This shit is as good as it gets.

-YtWt

Day 74

16: Stay Ahead of The Weather - We Better Get Goin' If We're Gonna

Castevet, check. Native, check. Into it. Over it., check.  I was going to do a whole right up on this super radical 7".. But I think i've already said enough about this super group side project. Shit is really solid. That's all I got.


-YtWt

Day 73

17: Talons - Hollow Realms
 
Don't you love it when a band comes along and just fucks your entire world up? Everyone was telling me I needed to hear this little British instrumental band Talons; that they will will change the way I feel about post-rock. Well yeah, pretty much they were right. Hollow Realms feels like a celebration and is quite distinctively one of the most solid debuts i've heard in a while. is a breath of fresh air to a genre that has kind of worn me out. The band has elements of russian circles and a hawk and a handsaw, but in all right ways; the subtlety in which they use these elements makes for a bright and aggressive record. They sound huge, without sounding epic; a term that's overused when describing instrumental music. They sound mathy without being alienating and over completing; a problem that continues to plague most math rock bands. Talons is a band that gets straight to the point Their frantic riffs are complimented by swooning strings and pounding horns. 

-YtWt

Day 72

18: Red Sparowes - The Fear is Excruciating, But Therein Lies the Answer


It's been my experience, that when it comes to bands the more outlandish they title their works, one of two things is evident. The first is that they just don't give a shit about song names and their titles are disconnected inside jokes. However, more often than not, the group is trying to flex their wit and show their intellect. Red Sparowes is in a a whole 'nother plain of existence when it comes to the way they title their work. For example track six off of their 2006 LP Every Red Heart Shines Toward the Red Sun is audaciously entitled: "And by Our Own Hand Did Every Last Bird Lie Silent in Their Puddles, the Air Barren of Song as the Clouds Drifted Away. For Killing Their Greatest Enemy, the Locusts Noisily Thanked Us and Turned Their Jaws Toward Our Crops, Swallowing Our Greed Whole." Now, if Red Sparowes didn't deliver some serious skull crushing jams, that title, along with pretty much all of their titles would be the most pathetically hashed out bunch of self indulgent crap in the history of rock 'n roll. But Red Sparowes doesn't name weak willed songs extravagantly, the banddelivers some serious "kick-the-fucking-door-in" instrumental music; it's no surprise they feature former members of Isis, Angel Hair, Pleasure Forever, and Halifax Pier. Now, i'm not one to fall prey to the gimmicks of non traditional instruments used in rock music, but Red Sparowes use of a pedal steel guitar helps create their aural wall of hazy California post-metal so well that it's hard to think of them without it. The flexing and contorting wails of the pedal steel evokes such coastal images, but instead of warm sunny beaches, their sound is cold and lonesome. The Fear is Excruciating, But Therein Lies the Answer is their first record with Emma Ruth Rundle on guitar, and maybe there is a little bit of femininity rubbing off onto the sound because overall the record is more melodic and sensitive than past releases. For most metal bands the tagging of 'sensitivity' seems to be a death note, but with Red Sparowes it only adds for their already monumental sound, allowing them to build and build to glittering triumph. Every track on The Fear is Excrusiating, But Therein Lies the Answer is eerie, luminous, haunting, and near flawless; while it doesn't necessarily push the instrumental genre forward in anyway, it is still hands down one of the best post-rock releases of the year.


-YtWt

Day 71

19: Eluvium - Static Nocturne

Static Nocturne is one fifty minute song dedicated to static and white noise. The first five minutes are standard enough, a wash of soothing commotion, that leads the listener to believe this is going to be fifty minutes relaxing, but standard static. Then something happens at the six minute mark, a soft, yet dense organ swells in and begins to change the tide. As the movement slows, Eluvium's signature piano comes in, adding emotional layers to the sea of sound pulsing in and out. Everything rises to a more jarring section where the benevolent piano and organ have disappeared, now replaced by grainy static that pulls the track through the middle. Finally as the track begins to reach its apex, the coarse  static loosens up as the organ returns and brings the song to a lazy conclusion. The thing that makes Static Nocturne so wonderful is it's ambition and how relaxing it really is. A lot of ambient records tend to drag on and lose the listener unless they are truly in a mood to float. I listened to Static Nocturne in the middle of the day while sitting, rather than laying in the dark and I listened to it two times through without even noticing. Often when an artist puts out a track that exceeds the half hour mark, I find certain movements that stand out, and listen to all the 'filler' of the track just to get to the stand out sections. With Static Nocturne, none of that applies, every second is crucial, every second is beautiful.

-YtWt

Day 70

20: Tigers Jaw - Two Worlds

Tigers Jaw, like most bands who endure past one album eventually will come upon Bobby Frosts 'Two Roads' dilemma. Some groups continue down the comfortable road, staying within the same patterns and writing habits; others, in pursuit of greener pastures, risk failure and denunciation down the road less traveled. With Two Worlds Tigers Jaw chose the latter trail, and the outcome is a beautiful, sonically crafted, more originally carved sound. Pushing the male/female vocal interplay and bring the keyboards to the forefront, Tigers Jaw sound more polished and mature than their past full lengths and subsequent split releases. Their approach to song writing stays firmly planted in the late 90's pop-emo terrain; but unlike Spirit Desire, Two Worlds trades a small number of catchy hooks for mammoth choruses, nuanced vocals and lyrical complexity. Most importantly though, Tigers Jaw have finally mastered their structure, where other releases have seemed like samples or pieces jig-sawed together, Two Worlds shows Tigers Jaw finally putting all of the pieces together and crafting their most compelling work, not only in sly but in substance as well. Everywhere that Tigers Jaw dares to defy their pre-established framework, they shine and stand with the greats of their genre. Two Worlds features enough career making pop hooks to make any of their contemporaries green with envy, while still being able to maintain a powerful dynamic. Tigers Jaw have finally released not only their most memorable record, but one of the best in the genre.

-YtWt

Day 65

it's very gratifying when one has the opportunity, or rather the drive to get rid of their excess fat and replace it with muscle. my body is starting to bare a resemblance to something appealing; i am pleased with this angle of afghanistan. still i have little spots all over my body, up my side and spilling onto my stomach; however, now they are now no longer crimson, but rather faded and tan. i curse them every time i see them, i am fortunate that i can't see my backside.
i have been taking time out of my day to write reviews of my favorite fifteen favorite albums that were released in this past year. i listen to one of them all day and write about it, it is therapeutic. however, drawing has been my main medicine while in afghanistan. i try to sketch every day, it is very peaceful and calming for me.
i miss sarah more and more everyday, she makes my heart tender while i am here among nothing but eyesores and spirit snatchers. i am fortunate that i am able to talk to her frequently right now, in spite of the fact that it may not be the way things stand for the entire tour. every morning when i awake, the calender that is hung up under my eyelids counts off one more day until i am with my angel; who waits patiently for my return.
she is truly perfection, and despite the circumstances, i am blessed.

Day 56

it's colder now, i'm becoming accustomed to the air and to layers. the air is thinner and my lungs are always healing and adapting; i can feel it in the wind and i feel it in my chest. today is thanksgiving, a strange holiday in itself, mainly because it's based on a fib and a road that led to a lot of suffering. still, despite it's origin, it is one of my favorite holiday, perhaps because when you peal away the layers of phoniness, it really is simply about being with people you love and counting your blessings. everyday i count my lucky stars that my eyes open and my legs work and my lungs still draw breath. i wish i was home with my friends who are my family and my family who are starting to become my friends. still though, i am very thankful for being as blessed as i am.

Day 49

cabin fever, stir crazy. i've found more skipping rocks in afghanistan than anywhere else i've ever been; now i just need to find water.
west goes on leave in couple days.

Day 40

how strange it is to tell people you are something you are not. it's weird when someone reveals to you that they are malcolm x, when it's very obvious they are not. how can it be that king kong ain't got shit on me? i am dead to me. i am an anomaly. my entire body is covered with rosy lesions that ache and itch and make me wish i was a dog so it would be perfectly honky-dory for me to tear my teeth into the skin of my arms and claw my legs whenever i please. we are nothing without our appearances. i don't want to walk or move or do anything, i want to scratch at myself and it's gotten to my head. i want a new body. 

Day 37

i have finally arrived, i finally have a bed and a desk and a central heating system. i have an office space and i have the wire. for being such in a sad, lonely part of the world-this place isn't half bad.

Day 35

four weeks of solace. thumbs twiddling, heels kicking, holding horses, and killing nothing but time.
that time has been rubbed out and bled dry and it is time to get my hands wet and my feet dirty. i'm not going to mislead myself by saying that i'm overjoyed, however i'd be stretching it to say that i am intrigued and a little excited to get this ball rolling. my confidence in my abilities extends far past the confidence i have in my lungs. i need to stop smoking, it isn't a want, it is a necessity. i stare at those sawtooth mountains, tall as giants whose heads peak through the clouds, and i am taken aback. these lungs needs breath more than ever and i aim to give that to him. along with trying to stop biting my nails, nipping my smokie treat habit in the bud will make up two of my four new years resolutions.
there is no telling what may come as the months advance, i need to stay clear minded and vigilant.

Day 33 pt. 3

it is astounding how the passing of days or even hours can bring upon the change in moods. like that of the tides, they so effortlessly can rise and fall without a moments notice. news of quality can reach my ears and lift my spirits; however, well received news hardly lifts my soul like that of my love. she pulls my heart from the ashes and sets it on fire. her passion and affinity for me gives me faith in notions i had, at one time thought to be unfounded. she is spectacular when she doesn't realize it, and those fleeting moments of complete and utter vulnerability that i am crippled by the breathtaking magnitude of my love for her. in her various stages of undressed, both in her body and in her soul, when i see her in total nakedness with no threads or walls around her i know the meaning of love and life. she would do anything to please me, and i her. when she is i would burn the entire world to cinders to see her satisfied. i would let ships of fortune and capital set sail just to see that she stays mine forever and always.
still the thought of success after my return to the states is appealing. i have always lived by the criteria that if i end up slaving over a desk from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon that i would be better suited ending my life. i write that statement not to imply that a a man who puts his nose to the grindstone behind a desk are anything to be mocked, i simply have always felt that there was something more for me. i dream far too much and far to great to be stuck world so compact; my heart yearns and craves to create, to connect, and to be share my imagination with souls who are like minded. and i will, i am determined and my resolve is stronger than it has ever been. however, i don't wish to fool myself, i have no qualms with poverty, it is not about money, it is about not falling in place to some predestined life. i will do what i want, what i was designed to do. for the benefit of me and for the benefit of the one who i want to one day be my bride.

Day 33 pt. 2

i can't rip it from my head or my heart. all i want to do is spend the rest of my life with one person. i am so undoubtadly smitten it makes my soul flutter with life. i am beyond in love.

Day 33: my 22 birthday

i can see my futures, they are set before my feet and i watch them over and over again until my mind feels as if it is bursting with numbness. on my left i see the months ahead leading me back home, into the arms of my love. everything i've endured accumulating into the moment when she is finally back home in my arms; i am alive. and then i look upon my right, and i am greeted with new misery. i can see them, carrying my casket and playing their fucking songs of sorrow. what a sad procession as they carry me off leaving everything i've loved and known behind, i can see the tears and i can see the bitterness.
is this god real? is there any use in calling on a thing that i so often rebuke and denounce? what end will he see me to? i want nothing more than to pass through this darkness, but doesn't everyman who steps foot on these savage grounds? don't boys of more faith and conviction ask god for his protection everyday, only to have their requests fall upon deaf ears? these men put their trust in something that in the end has no barring on their survival. who am i to ask for god, i don't even have the slightest notion in my heart if i believe that he exists and yet as i stood outside in the middle of the night staring at the stars above, why did i wrestle with my heart to call out to him? i have struggled with the thought of him since i can remember, and only been left with a fear of hell and now as i stare hell in the face i have no idea what i think. i am damned to sit on a fence of questions and unrest.
if there is a god above that listens to the calls of small men with hard hearts, then all i ask is that i come home, in one piece, to my love so i can continue to sit on my fence of debate and concern.

Day 32

i've been here for a month now. it's strange to think about how fast the month has gone by, however upon further thinking, it's been very long. i feel like this time here is going to drag by and never end, i mean in all honesty a year is a long time when you're doing something you hate. i've lost the will to fight so lets get another term for the week:

AC Slater | ā.cˈslātər |   verb












1. the act of defecating on toilet while facing the wrong direction. Much like how AC Slater sits in a chair when he's at the Maxx. A true Slater consists of not only facing the wrong direction but being able to cross your arms and rest on the back of the toilet. (see image below)

 

see also: slatering, slaterizing, slater dump

Day 31

“My soul knows my meat is doing bad things, and is embarrassed. But my meat just keeps right on doing bad, dumb things.”

-kurt vonnegut (bluebird)

today is halloween, the first of many holidays i am missing during my sabaticle from life (including but not limited to thanksgiving, christmas, new years, valentines day, sarahs birthday-the second in a row, the forth of july). it's almost surreal to think that these days that are normally perceived to be monumental,  will be just another day of bullet dodging and rocket calling. the vast majority of my days i have no knowledge of what the date is let alone what day of the week it is. tomorrow is the first of november, i know that because that is the one month mark of me being overseas, also the day before my birthday. how strange, i'm missing my birthday as well.
for halloween i am going to be a happy solider with no contempt for his peers or this groundless crusade i'm part of.

Day 30

a man died here today, a boy really. shot in the neck by another boy who was perhaps the same age as him. the two boys were fighting for completely different reasons, or maybe, just maybe, their motivations were so close to each other one could call them kindred. what is the justification, if any? is there any justice in the wild wild west? and while his family clings to the sight of his shape for the last time before letting him loose in the afterglow, do they curse themselves for allowing their offspring give his life for what some might consider frivolous pursuits with no clear benefits?
i stood in the space between the mountains with a line of hundreds, my head down,  hands behind my back, as the biting air assaulted my face and appendages. the sting of sand and dirty in my eyes as the helicopters came down to pick him up. and they they walked me, six men, four carrying a stretcher with an american flag draped over a motionless form. the air is still, the sounds of grown men sniffling are followed by the echos of the birds leaving to take him home. nothing follows.

i sit in a tent, with dozens of others, rehearsing as they pay homage to their fallen brother, their friend, their family. in memoriam they commemorate him. tomorrow is the real thing, but even in practice this stricts to the core of the matter just fine. i never knew this specialist, but as i watch his friends, struggling to hold back tears, as they speak to the crowd about their companion, i feel connected. i hate that i do, in fact i loathe myself for these feelings. but i can't deny the swelling in my heart or the sadness. i am connected to every long face and sad soul in this tent, and my heart feels a sense of loss. it doesn't matter if i believe in the fight that he fought, the fight that we're fighting. it doesn't matter if this war is or isn't an imperial march on a country that has nothing to do with the american dream, or her way of life. what matters is that tonight a mother will be beside herself when upon receiving the news that she no longer has a son.

Day 29

 101 screaming seagulls. everywhere. they cram in tents and clutter the dfac, extending the lines and talking shit the whole time. they appear to operate with reckless abandon, nothing about their demeanor seems safe or secure. loud and proud. the bring my internet to a halt with their downloading during peak hours of usage. they come and go by the hundreds at night, ear-piercing, they have no regard for my sleep cycle.
i can't wait until 2017

Day 28

and everything turned itself inside out and i woke up in the middle of the night with the beam of a flashlight in my face and the ear-splitting cackles of hundreds of bodies making their way into my tent; back from the dead, and early. i suppose i should be relieved, and in all honesty i am. however, i'm not really relieved about the early aspect to their arrival. i was looking forward to a couple days of peace and quiet, free from the hoots and hollers of the infantry. furthermore, downloading the complete series of rocko's modern life is now complete pipedream, the internet is destined to be clogged.

Day 27 pt. 3

i have no devotion in my heart greater than the love i have for my beloved. our passion is strained by seas and mountains and valleys. and yet we remain strong and impregnable. plagued by time and contretemps, the absence of skin grazing skins and face to face exchange would be enough to devastate most lovers. and yet my love and i remain tough and determined. my passion for her is fierce, my desires to touch her body and kiss her face keep me motivated to stay alive, stay vigilante, and keep my head on a swivel.
i want nothing more than to one day make her my bride and stare down the face of the great unknown by her side, holding her hand, squeezing it twice.
where is my love? where is my happy ending? when she dreams does she dream of our past adventures? does she see my face in the buildings and pastimes where we've shared our ? when she touches herself is it me she imagines? and when i return to her will i be what she remembered? will she still want me when my head becomes swollen with regrets and guilt? will she stand beside me when my sanity is on the brink and thoughts of madness tease me and beckon me to join their procession down the long dark road to lunacy? will she pull me from the sorrow of war and bring me into her heavenly arms, and comfort my soul, and tend to my wounds? these are the thoughts that enter my ticker and pull at my heart strings when i am away and missing her glow.
what is love? is it the pheromones, phenylethylamine, the dopamine and the oxytocin? does my brain release it's emissions causing my heart to flutter?  am i nothing more than a science experiment? or is my love my desire to be next to her until i take in my last breath? is it my longing to serve her and spoil her with affection and all the material possessions i can possibly afford to buy? is it my need to see her, to be in her, and around her? my brain has literally become rewired from bond we share. i'd like to think that it's both, the chemicals inside my head release because she is meant to be, meant for me.
there are days when everything feels alright in my heart until i look down at my hands and see the spaces in between my fingers, where her fingers fit perfectly. i to want to flood her thoughts and cover her heart. to never let her go another day without my touch, to have and to hold under death rips us apart.
my love. my life. forever.

Day 27 pt. 2

it's easier to prepare yourself mentally for battle than it is to train your mind to handle the down time. since i've been here in afghanistan i have had plenty of time on my hands. in my time here i have completed three seasons of dexter, two seasons of sons of anarchy, a season of wonder showzen, a season it's always sunny in philadelphia, two books, over twenty games of spades, forty levels of angry birds and a handful of movies. i have been here twenty-eight days. in my down time i have come up with two new slang terms that i will try to incorporate into my day-to-day jargon.

Bolo   |bō lō|                                        verb

1. to bolo
2. the act of kicking a persons neck while they are laying on the ground and smiling maliciously.
3. the act of throwing quicklime in someones eyes during a fight.

see also: boloed, boloing  
from the 1988 martial arts classic Bloodsport  


Earp    |ər p|                                                    verb

1. to earp
2. the act of slapping someone multiple times when you are clearly in the wrong.
3. the act of explaining to someone why you're slapping them while slapping them.

see also: earped, tearp, earping, post-erp
from the 1993 western classic Tombstone

Wyatt Earp: [Tyler reaches for his gun] Go ahead, skin it! Skin that smokewagon and see what happens...
Johnny Tyler: [pauses, scared] M-mister, I'm gettin' tired of your...
Wyatt Earp: [slaps Tyler across the face, unafraid] I'm gettin' tired of all your gas, now jerk that pistol and go to work!
Wyatt Earp: [slaps him harder, now completely steely-eyed] I said throw down, boy!

Day 27

be still my racing mind, let me sleep.
if you only knew the pain you've been putting me through, you might slow yourself down, catch your breath, and rest next to my weathered body. i have been tossing and turning in my bed placed in the corner of my tent; like a sad military march, left, right, left, right, keep in step. I can hear the low roar of corporal west's snores. in like a storm and out like a hurricane. they vibrate my bed as i shift my weight from my right back onto my left.
i can't sleep, sleep is after all the cousin of death; a relative i am not looking forward to meet anytime soon. so i keep my eyes wide open, fixated on the wave like ripples in tent above my head.
it's in this moment, with west's nightly roars that i realize that i'm sleeping amongst lions, trained killers, and mad men. i don't feel like one of them, and yet they accept me into their pride. do they not see my heart on my sleeve, the zipper on my back revealing my white wool? i am a fraud. i want nothing of war or courage. i want nothing of stories and combat. surely they must know this is a costume i put on daily and an act i've been rehearsing frequently with such urgency. are they really that blind to common sense and signals? perhaps, secretly they know my deceit and still allow me to stay. maybe they feel that lions are not sanctified unless pictured beside a lamb. does my presence make them feel like they are not what they clearly are? are we all trading something here? a piece of me for a piece of them.
i feel like at any moment i will reach behind my back to pull this costume from my body, to reveal to my brothers in arms that i am nothing like them, but the zipper will no longer be there, gone, or missing, who knows. i will be one of them. something to be damned. but who should be damned to die? who stands on stilts above all and condemns man? what is wrong can be right, and so the righteous can just as easily be in the wrong. evil is a word and words are only as good as their meanings, but meanings are subjective and can be swayed and twisted to suit the desires of anyone.
am i evil? what have i become? am i a thug, a hired gun sent to fight, not to think or reason or feel but rather to do? am i a mere vessel used to hurt innocent people for the betterment of progress, government, industry, and the need to seek and destroy that which we do not understand? i see more contractors than i do soldiers, i see more long faces then i see smiles. are we saving anyone or simply burying ourselves in self righteous nationalism?
we could be doing so much better if not for the talking heads and hands in back pockets, the smiling faces with their diamond eyes, oily skin, and dollar sign teeth.
and the world doesnt care, we the people sleep so soundly, safe in the knowledge that lions roam and do the bidding of the rats, vultures, and thieves; while the third world gasps for breathes as it's stomach wrenches with hunger pains.

Day 26 pt. 2

today while smoking a cigarette and reading outside my tent, my eyes caught a tall afghan man walking past my peripheral. as i scanned this giant coming my way i noticed his feet were bandaged and bleeding; every step he took made me wince; the thought of bleeding steps in shabby sandals on rocks was almost to much for me to bare. the bottoms of his feet were so red and bruised that the gray sandals had followed suit, taking on the scarlet coloration.  i looked at his face expecting to see some sort of suffering in his tired eyes. none. he walked with a sense of purpose, tall, and confident. the pain of each step was so hidden behind this mans leathery exterior that one could say it wasn't even there at all. this old man was made of stone.
as he walked by all i could think about was clint eastwood, syl stallone, and all the other soft individuals who are paid handsomely to portray rough men.
then it hit me: fuck john wayne, i want to be like the tall afghan man with bleeding feet.

Day 26

“You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.”
 -Mahatma Gandhi

this isn't really for you. however, if somehow you stumble upon it, it really doesn't matter to me. If i wanted it completely hidden from the public i would lock this site, or better yet write my thoughts on paper. this is exercise for me, simply to keep my mind sharp and perhaps to hone in on my thoughts for the next year. conceivably, if and when i return to my life in the States and i feel myself slip away into paranoia, alcoholism, and all the traps that men who have supped the horrors of war get bottled into, this will at the very least be act as reference point or a time line. Hopefully in doing this i can prevent the aforementioned deficiencies and come out of this event better than i was before, in mind, body and in spirit.
the air is thin here and it gets hard to breathe at night when i look out my tent and am greeted by the clearest view of the milky way one could imagine, more stars than my heart can handle. shooting like missiles across the dark sky, meteors dissolve before ever getting a chance to show it's shape or size.
my memory stream will become tainted the longer i'm here, the more time i sit in the cold mountains, listening to the thunder of rockets and the clicks and clatters of rounds being expended. who will i become over time? will i recognize my own thoughts? will i sound like some paranoid maniac? afraid of my own shadow? will my loves no longer be my loves?
the jitters. the shakes. the night terrors. the daymares. crowd fear. spine cramps. black outs. head tremors. eye splinters. vision quests. one day these could be a few of my favorite things.
 i am no fool, i'm hip to what is kept safe and dry under post traumatic stress umbrella.  i want my arms, i want my legs, i want my soul, and i want my mind. whatever it takes to keep me whole. this cold part of the world is trying to bend me until i break under the weight and pressure. hopefully i can keep my head above the water.

the push ups are for my arms.
this is for my heart.
here's to hoping.