Tuesday, November 11th, 2008

Time	Event
6:06a	Everyone deserves music Dear Madison peeps: I get that y'all had other commitments, other fun things to do, etc., etc., but I went to the Michael Franti & Spearhead show all by my lonesome anyway, and am returned to tell the tale that it was awesome. So boo-yah. Boo, and also yah. I wasn't sure what to expect of the openers, the Solillaquists of Sound, but what they actually provided was a delicious mix of industrial, drum'n'bass, conscious hip-hop, and Sheila Chandra-esque vocals. Actually, only the last song they did got into serious drum'n'bass territory, but oh God was it ever the shit. Took me right back to the first time I heard really, really good jungle - spun by Capital J, at the Ox Box in London, Ontario, of all the white-bread places - and was compelled to admit that it could be just as intense as trance or Rotterdam. Then, intermission! Accompanied, as ever, by queueing for the Barrymore bathrooms - more intense for the women's, but still an issue for the men's. Our State Representative stood in the bathroom line, getting ribbed for still waiting to pee even though the Democrats are now the majority in the state House. He got married in Toronto. For Spearhead I went up to the front, where it was almost too packed to dance but not quite. Not really having listened to much Spearhead before I mostly identified the tracks as "That Slow One That Mentions Child Soldiers" and "That Bouncy One About Giving Up Remote Control". Someone's doubtless got a track list up someplace. Anyways! It was enough fun that I didn't care about not knowing the songs, just, you know, did my usual "I'm-playing-with-yarn" dancing, except when waving arms in the air appeared to be required. Like the Oysterband, lyrically they hit what is for me a narrow sweet-spot: exhorting love and optimism, while acknowledging that love and optimism are hard. When I left, someone outside joked about needing an ID card to go outside, then she asked how I was and hugged me. Which was a little unusual, since I'm pretty sure that I had never met her before. If I have, this turns a nice moment of connection into a mere testament to my lousy powers of recall, so I'll stick with the first story. (Comment on this)
6:34a	The 11th day of the 11th month Anthem for Doomed Youth Wilfred Owen What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells; Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires. What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds. Everyone Sang Siegfried Sassoon Everyone suddenly burst out singing; And I was filled with such delight As prisoned birds must find in freedom, Winging wildly across the white Orchards and dark-green fields; on--on--and out of sight. Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted; And beauty came like the setting sun: My heart was shaken with tears; and horror Drifted away . . . O, but Everyone Was a bird; and the song was wordless; the singing will never be done. Current Music: Tanglefoot, "Vimy" (Comment on this)

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