O (Part 2 of 10)

It is night and I am swimming.  There is a voice I can barely hear against the crashing waves and it brings me comfort.  The moon is reflected on me and through its glow I can see dolphins break the surface and crash through below once more. 

I do not know how long I’ve waited; it could be millions of years as easily as it could be a day.  But I know I’ve been waiting to meet you.  I have heard your laugh against the waves.  I have seen your face when looking up at the stars and though I can never quite make out the color of your eyes I can see they easily top any pairing of sun and sky and anything descending over the horizon.  I swear I’ve felt your touch in those moments where I dare to dream.  And I have seen the waves of glorious black, a black darker than the ocean’s depths.  That I may touch those waves and ride along one is the wonderful desire that gives me the strength and resolve to push and fight and always stay near the surface. I have the overwhelming sensation that something is going to change. 

At once the sun is white and blinding.  Perhaps thrown by the hand of God or maybe just a brush stroke on his canvas, the scattering of molecules paints a portrait in blue for me and it feels like it is for the very first time.  Everyone is crashing around me and I know many of them are terrified of what may happen but I do not feel this way.  I am ready. 

My world becomes light and we are scattered and thrust up into the air.  The place I called home, the only place I ever knew, is now below me and every second it is farther away. For the very first time in my life I know what it feels like to be completely alone and it is a wondrous thing.  It is a feeling I will remember for all time but it is not how this will end.  I was born to touch you. 

I look around and see millions of souls with whom I shared my existence.  We are all burning and many are screaming and sometimes those screams still echo as they completely vanish from this life.  Others have a look of such heightened pleasure and they inhale that heat and it fills their bodies and transforms them and drives them higher.  The matter is only changed, it never completely goes away.  I breathe in the heat and my love and my devotion survive this initial transformation stronger than before. 

I see such wonders from up here.  My home stretches out untold miles in all directions and is magnificent but what is now in my line of sight and above is truly infinite and home to wonders which seem just as endless.  For a moment I witness the pillars of creation, these interstellar works of art.  But I can look away because what awaits me is greater.  I see now with so much more clarity those night stars, the suns that fulfill their central role to their respective galaxies.  How many are there just lying in wait under one of those suns, lying in wait for their moment? 

And I am moving, I am flying without wings and I can smell my former home and it is a good memory.  I see now the shores and the sand and still our span is stretching out, going further inward.  I can feel you are much closer and I will not yet be lost and allow myself to leave as so many around me have done.  I pass hills and mountains and fields of flowers.  There are moments where I feel as though I flicker in and out of existence but I do not panic, you are near and I will not have come this far only to fail now. 

Everything is dark and there is a cacophony that nearly deafens me, brilliant bursts of light flash all around me.  I am ready.  I know this is not heaven.  You are below.  I am transformed again and at once I am falling.  Everyone else falls around me and I no longer see any familiar faces.  As when we were first going up many of them are screaming but I am still not afraid.  The light continues to flash all around us, racing to the bottom and back again and beating us every time.  I start to laugh, how can I not?  This new world is coming into sharp focus. 

And I hit.  I collide with steel and the impact is tremendous but there is no pain and I am able to keep myself from separating.  There is something almost musical in the sound of those around me striking this structure and striking the earth.  I allow myself only a passing second to wonder where their own journeys will take them.  Some nearby have joined together and are threatening to overtake me but I do not let them.  With all my strength I push forward and then I am sliding down and down.  I stop, just on the edge. 

And I see you.

You are shielding yourself, allowing no one to come near.  You are more beautiful than in my dreams.  Your smile alone has made the entire journey and everything leading up to it worthwhile.  I pray that you are not some illusion but then you laugh and the sound is pure joy and blissfully real.  And finally there are those glorious waves of black, darker than the roaring sky or all the space which contains those once seen stars, darker than the bottom of the ocean. 

Just a bit more, just a centimeter more.  I trace your movement and I can see I will only have one chance.  Others are advancing but this is not their story, this is not their love.  Now.  A split second before you move I jump and once more I am falling.  The distance is mere a fraction of my previous descent but I swear the time that elapses is far greater.  Oh please. 

I am inside.  I am inside and everything is you and it is glorious.  Everything that makes up your body, I taste.  It merges with me and I am breathing in your spirit, your love.  It is ecstasy.  But I begin to slide down.  I do my best to keep hold but I am unable and I slide down to the end.  I hang there and I am transfixed by the sight of your eyes.  There are oceans and stars inside there as well, full of colors that have not yet been identified.  I don’t want to leave but I cannot hang on for much longer.  This is the only moment in my life I can ever remember feeling truly terrified.  I pray to please not fall; please do not pull me away from this.  But then a gesture of natural grace – a motion you must enact everyday – the waves are swept back and I am closer than ever.  The air around me is perfume.  The only sounds I will ever hear now are your honeyed voice and your laughter.  All I will ever see now is this impossible and perfect black.  All I will ever touch and taste is you.  I am safe.  I am home.

O (Part 1 of 10)

Of course I can’t remember when it began. 

I wandered the streets and had no idea where I was going.  The alleyways and avenues were twisted distortions of places I once knew.  Roads either stretched out to dead ends or all the way to the horizon line where they disappeared forever.  The shops and stores were tilted and in bizarre shapes, their architecture quite impossible yet they presented themselves as friendly and welcoming, the colors vibrant and I do believe there was music playing in the background.  I saw the restaurant and it looked nothing like itself but I knew it was the right place.

There may or may not have been a door at the entrance.  If there was it might have been one of those double swinging doors like the kind often seen in old Westerns.  I found a booth and took a seat.  The walls were blue. 

I would recognize you anywhere.  It starts in waves which are black as coal.  And then there is an angelic white, like bed sheets.  In the center of everything are twin oceans whose color I cannot identify. 

Maybe it started because I needed to come out of the rain.  Did you pretend not to know me at first?  It was playful and heartbreaking.  But there was just the tease of a smile at the corner of your lips and that was enough.  The drinks were strong and you said so very little. 

You told me to come back later.  You spoke in a language I should not have understood but this did not matter.  I asked for a more specific time but you did not give me one.  You said you would let me know. 

I wanted to see you but I promised myself I would not do this anymore.  That promise was a lie, just as I knew it would be.  It’s not a matter of strength of ethics or personal resolve.  Whether or not I possess self control is irrelevant.  My joy and my desire are diseased things that can’t help but intermingle.  They whisper in my ear and the sound is so sweet. 

The phone rang and I ran up the stairs to answer.   I somehow knew it would be your voice yet I felt terrified.  Was it unthinkable the sentiment might be shared?  Are we going to be here for much longer?  Is there a prayer of a chance? 

But it was you and hearing the voice through the phone for the first time was exciting in a way I did not anticipate.  You apologized for calling on my home phone and said you did not have the number for my cell.  I was momentarily confused as I did not remember even having a home phone but I let this confusion pass as it did not ultimately matter. 

“I’m still at the restaurant,” you said. 

My heart accelerated.  I did not say anything.  A word – any word at all – from my mouth would perhaps shatter this fantasy, leaving only the gray and indifferent reality in its wake. 

You continued, “You should come in again.  For a drink.  No one else is here.”

It was not a short drive.  I would speed.  The highway would not have much traffic at this hour.

“I’ll wait,” you said. 

“But…won’t someone care that you’re having drinks with me?” The phrasing of question was undeniably poor, certain words caught in my throat and refused release. 

“Absolutely.  He’ll care very much.  Which is why you’re not going to tell anyone.  I’m certainly not going to tell anyone.”

I don’t remember driving there.  I can recall a single image of the glow of street lights smeared across the sky like it was paint on a canvas.  The sky was a navy blue. 

I entered and you were standing by our booth.  There were two glasses on the table.  There was the same radiance which had been present in our very first encounter, the same which was present in every subsequent moment we’ve shared. 

Everything in a haze.  That we were sitting across from one another and having a conversation was something that never could have happened.  And yet there we were.  The duration of one drink.  Was there a universe created somewhere in that span of time?  Were perhaps billions of lives undone and put back together in new configurations?  Or maybe only two lives.  Two would be enough.  Only a few minutes but those minutes mean more than entire years of life.  Details shared and it is the most intimate thing imaginable to know that no one else exists for that span of time. 

And then it was over.  It had to be.  But I did not yet feel myself slipping away.  There was still that smile and perhaps a promise that this was only the beginning.  The word “always” came to mind and I felt warm and safe.  I felt peace.  And love.  I wish I could remember if we hugged.  I do not recall how we said goodbye. 

There were no more stars after I left.  I imagine we were both looking at the same thing.  It’s hard not to wonder where your hopes went at the dawn.  There were tears of regret and tears of betrayal.  They were calm and slow and accompanied with a silent asking for forgiveness. 

The days are going to turn away from us again and no one will see where we are or what is inside.  I am certain it is for the best and I even feel thankful.  But underneath all of that is a crippling desire to begin again.    

Even if there is nothing else I still have so many pages which were first seen by your eyes.  I will follow through all these worlds to which you have ventured.  Maybe you even left something in one of them for me. 

I know my words need to be like water until this is all gone.  I want to thank John for showing me how. 

I don't know which Alice to love more

I am starting to believe you are all the same person.  Once at the church, again at the diner, once more in bed and still there when I close my eyes.  What is this symphony that echoes through the chambers?  I have tried to comply with what you asked.  To whom am I speaking?  Rhapsody in blue. 

The same words you have read pass before my eyes and it is the only way I can know your mind.  The word “possession” is the only thing that makes any sense.   I still do not know what color they truly are.  It hurts but I cannot look away.  She caught me in the dark. 

He needs you right now just as you need him.  Of everyone I have ever seen… 

I see everyone through breaking glass. Do you dream like a child?  I think that you know what to do. It does smell pretty, she said.  And how right she was. 

I am going to think about you every Sunday morning (maybe just Sunday or maybe Sunday evening). 

My sunflower.  My sunflower, you leave me dancing

I imagine you with a mask, a pink mask, that’s how I want to see you. 

These things glisten like metal. 

Oh Johnnie, this world you have opened up to me. 

Heaven sent.  My sunflower I know this is the truth.  This is far too complex for such a simple man.  And then the explosions begin.  So much change in an empty, endless game and all I know is this true love I feel.  Everything is wrapped in a cloak of desire.  You can't help but leave so much behind.  And I could feel envy from others.

Fruit so supple it drips ambrosia.   There are endless fields by flowing rivers.  A paradise drenched in pink and purple.

It fills so much, please let me drink from your hands.

Don’t tell me your plans.  Love sprang forth in astonishment.  Temptation has a stranglehold on us.  Just one glance, black water on the shore.  We trade our virtue. 

The greatest motion.  Stars align themselves. Everything succumbs to blue and black.  I don’t dare venture back a second day.  You have eclipsed everything.  This is a raincloud on my life.  You drain my blood.

There is no greater beauty.  I took a vacation in the stars.  There was a harmony of love and desire.  He fled when he was saw what was in her eyes.  Everything was nuclear. 

No words to describe that movement.  He wrote a thousand of them and none of them seemed to fit.  There is nothing so pure.  Nothing else remains.  I have always searched for this.  In the morning she is there.  So many promises.  The veins. 

I would die for a dance.  The shoulder is the best place to be.  Think of this as my goodbye.  She could see it reflected in her own eyes.  There is nothing at the end of that street.  This is the last moment we speak.  It is better not to know. 

I can’t say anything in these moments of rhapsody.  Pianos go into overdrive.  You say words I have never heard.  I read words first seen by your eyes and they are far more beautiful for that.  How can I know you?  Tell me everything. 

My sunflower, I will search behind every glass door.  Where are you healing today?  I am just a guest.  So much rhythm all around us.  What difference does the choice make?  All those streets and alleys and shops all so connected.  We are at the top of the hill and see everything for once.  The other side of midnight is where you will see me next.

Desire was a transparent blue. 

You are there each and every time but I have no idea who you are.  I feel scared and oddly exhilarated.  You like to go places he doesn’t.  I wonder what places you could show me.  No, I never wonder that, I cannot.  I can’t allow you to steal away this perfect dream.  When you fall asleep at night what name is on your lips?  Who are you praying to before sleep takes you?  I know I was there at the beginning of things.  I would cradle you and wish for nothing more.  The days are few but they take an eternity to pass.  Leave me alone, no I don’t mean that.  What is everyone saying?  I go back and forth.  But it is all so beautiful; those are the words I hear.  Why is everyone afraid of going home again? 

There is a voice somewhere in the background telling me it is time to walk away.  I don’t want to listen to it but I know I will.  Someday in the park maybe.  We will be by a river or by an ocean.  From the terrace you hold out your arms as if for a hug and I can see you across the way, even when it is night. 

My spiral is never broken.  I have moments where I am absolutely certain none of this is real and I break down and cry because I realize no one I speak to actually exists.  Please someone tell me what is wrong with me. 

You’re exploding me again.  Just like you always do.  When the sun goes down I think we are both doing the same thing.  The music is quiet for just a moment and I am very terrified that the world is going to end soon.  The night smells familiar and it is wonderful and frightening.  Ah Monique, please arrest me. 

I may be going against the best advice but I am going to tell him my plans.  I agree we need a scheme but I know something will come to me.  Those brief moments together were everything and I believe I can be happy now that they are safely locked away forever.  What paintings will we see together?  I think we’ll be drinking something pink. 

I know I’ll see you at the next millennium.  

Album review: Songs of Innocence by U2

I was downtown having a few drinks at Valeria’s Mexican Restaurant when I saw the news.  Some 5 years after their last release No Line on the Horizon, U2 returned with their latest album entitled Songs of Innocence (I immediately caught the William Blake reference and enthralled everyone on the streets with my acumen!).  But not only did they return, they decided to announce the new record at an Apple conference (the company, not the fruit) and immediately release the album to all Apple iTunes customers at no cost, effectively reaching half a billion people in one fell swoop.  This news pleased me like a refreshing glass of fruit punch as I consider U2 to be one of my favorite bands of all time though I was bitterly disappointed with their 2009 release and eventually concluded it to be the worst of their albums.  Still, that’s just one man’s humble opinion and I’m always ready to enthusiastically embrace new material as I would a former lover who had just put on 30 extra pounds.

I immediately went home and logged into my iTunes account, downloaded the album onto my iPod (while my iPhone was charging with the iCharger) and then rushed back to Valeria’s with my iPod and iPod iEarbuds for the virgin listen.  You see, I could not possibly stay away from Valeria’s because Alicia and Angelica were working.  Oh sweet weighty goddesses with their huge behinds, oh wonderful pleasures of the flesh, how I adore you. 

And so it was that I stared at these two women while also reflecting upon the strange circumstances that led to my own bizarre life.  The files I’d also brought to the restaurant for review and analysis were of the most confidential nature and very soon I would be deciding the ultimate fates of no less than 3 men.  This task weighed heavily on me and as I stared and reflected and considered and drank I also opened up my waxy earholes and began to listen.   

The Miracle (of Joey Ramone) – The album started off in a sheepish manner and would have put me in a piss poor mood had I not been at Valeria’s.  I’m not sure who this song is in reference to but this is yet another tune whose chorus (or maybe it’s the pre-chorus in this case) is a chant of nothing in particular (or perhaps “Whooooooooooaaaaaawhooooooaaaa” is something in the ancient Sumerian language – the oldest language known to man and which I believe was first spoken and then subsequently passed down by ancient astronauts that now abduct us from our homes and perform horrifying medical experiments on us as part of a nefarious endgame the likes of which we cannot begin to imagine) and though it is a decent chant it is also perhaps the only memorable part of the song.  This strikes a rough note with me because I hate how stupid nonsensical chants have become a norm in popular music choruses these days.  Worse yet, the production (by Danger Mouse who handles production duties on the whole thing) coupled with those chants reminds of that godawful Imagine Dragons song (take your pick).  I would rather have an opening song with no chorus at all (like Sometimes by Pearl Jam off the No Code album) than something like this.  It did manage to grow on me a bit like a viral fungus over the course of its duration and I suppose it is suitably uplifting for an opener but it was not particularly impressive. 

It was here that I flashed back briefly to a time I shared with my beloved friend Calvin Black.  A former pilot, Black was sharing with me the extensive difficulties he had in enacting a foreign based operation and chiefly noted his belief that the armed force are far too constrained by an abundance of red tape.  I remember I agreed with home wholeheartedly at the time and we proceeded to eat a delicious breakfast of Belgian waffles slathered in syrup, strawberries and topped off with a dollop of whip cream along with a side of scrambled eggs, extra crispy bacon, sourdough dry toast and a tall glass of orange juice.

Every Breaking New Wave – I think I may love this song.  It is soaring and anthemic and all those other things people love to say about their best songs.  I don’t think it quite ranks among the best because it does feel like a rehash but it is at least a highly enjoyable rehash.  Bono’s vocals soar and there is some rather interesting interplay between his singing and Edge’s guitar playing during the chorus.  It has a widescreen scope to it and seems like a successful version of the song Magnificent from their last album.  The only thing which drags it down is that it just peters out rather than moving to an appropriately righteous conclusion.    

Song for Someone – I felt familiar comfort upon hearing the lovely lilting notes which begin this song and then Bono’s voice comes in pitch perfect and the harmony actually sweetens it.  This is a great song but it’s not quite fucking great and that’s a bit of a shame!  The bridge is a tad weak and like the last track it just kind of ends rather than letting that sweet chorus swell until it makes me want to bite my own tongue off!  I must admit after the last album and the rockiness of the opening I found myself wondering if these guys still had it in them and they thankfully showed they clearly do. 

California – I am honestly sick to grisly death of songs about California.  How many does the world actually need I ask myself while throwing back 5 cups of cafe in rapid succession, each with 3 sugars and 4 creams.  This song isn’t complete horseshit, it has a nice sonic landscape I can appreciate and some tasteful bass licks but Bono’s vocals actually annoy me a bit on this one and that hurts.  I love Bono’s voice so much that when it annoys me it is like someone has made a delicious turkey on rye sandwich and then slapped me with the piece of mayonnaise drenched white bread.  Ultimately forgettable. 

Iris (Hold Me Close) – Classic sounding Edge guitar throughout this number though the Bonster is maybe holding back a little.  This is a pretty song but one that does not leaving a deep impression for some reason.  It’s definitely one worth revisiting though as I suspect it may yield some rewards on repeated listens.  If one wants to talk deep impressions they should try and track down a bootlegged copy of my boxing match with Sugar Ray Leonard in the steamy summer of 76’.  I had Ray up against the ropes and was giving him a couple to the head before taking it to the body.  I was doling out a substantial amount of punishment and then the cut on my chiseled brow which I’d sustained in the third round dripped blood into my eye and that half second of surprise was all Ray needed to lash out with his terrific right and send me sprawling across the floor.  My girlfriend at the time was a beautiful and dangerously full figured woman named Leticia who had a penchant for leopard print pants which were often stretched to the max around her mammoth thighs and gloriously lethal mountainous ass and I could hear her screaming from the front row for me to get my pathetic self up and continue the fight like I had a pair.  But I just couldn’t move.  Sugar had sent me down for the count and I lost it all that night: my money, my girlfriend, my endorsements and my dreams. 

Volcano – This starts off with a jaunty but familiar sounding bassline and I was worried we were going into another faux funk old-man rock song like Get On Your Boots (or Vertigo if it was never your thing).  Unfortunately that’s exactly what happened.  This is weak, tepid rock and I am invoking the heavens that they may cease to write these types of songs.  Or maybe they should just write a couple dozen of them to get them all out of their system and release a double disc hard rock album that I can dutifully ignore.  Honestly, I can’t figure out why a song like this fails so hard for me but a song like The Fly from Achtung Baby or Daddy’s Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car from Zooropa sound so great.  Volcano feels very sketchy, very incomplete.  It almost brings a tear to my eye with its basic lack of…everything.

Raised by Wolves – Similarly awful to the previous track.  Hookless, melodyless, anythingatallinterestingless.  At least those were my initial thoughts.  However after an unforgivably droning 1 minute 45 seconds the song becomes somewhat interesting when the chorus hits and Bono wails like a man on fire.  The second time around though that chorus becomes as annoying as I suspected it was.  For some reason this tune makes me think of something from Incubus’s last couple of albums.  Yes, I realize now it reminds me of their song Love Hurts from the Love Grenades album.  Good ol’ Incubus with their songs like Love Hurts and Wish You Were Here!  I wonder if on their next album they’ll have a song called Stairway to Heaven or Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band!?  After finishing this latest U2 collection I’m going to re-listen to every Incubus album 27 times in a row. 

It was at this venture that Alicia again walked passed and began cleaning some tables.  I thanked the cosmos for such a blissful distraction.  She had married in the previous year and was finally starting to put on the glorious comfort weight, turning her already generous and shapely figure into a voluptuous dream that made my eyes bulge and my groin throb with the power of the bass coming from the speakers of an iRadio system.  She was wearing impossibly tight black pants and every time she walked by I nearly fell out of my chair in my effort to follow the wonderful jiggle and quake of her massive buttocks.  Her smile also melted my heart and the mole next to her lip was the perfect touch that drove me loco and forced me to order repeated shots of El Capitan tequila. 

Cedarwood Road – the last couple songs left me quite emotionally drained and I wasn’t initially sure I should dare to venture on.  The guitar riffs at the beginning seemed to promise another rocker and on first listen I immediately screamed and nearly hurled the iPod across the room in horror as though it were a poison dart frog.  Fortunately it doesn’t try quite as hard to be as hip or slammin’ as the previous 2 songs but it doesn’t try at very much else either and as it ends I find it has already faded from my memory and the sinister black hole that makes up the back half of this album only grows ever larger and more ominous by the second, threatening to suck in me and anyone else unlucky enough to step in front of it. 

Sleep Like A Baby Tonight – it was with a palpable sense of dread that I let the album play on to the next track but it turns out I was allowed some reprieve here.  This song starts out with fantastic atmosphere provided by the haunting and steady electronic pulse and Bono’s affected voice.  The band – suddenly and perhaps inexplicably remembering they once made beautiful, unique music – kicks it into high gear about a minute in and that also sounds shockingly great.  Bono’s vocals on the bridge sound oddly under produced and I haven’t decided how I feel about that yet given the album’s overall heavy-handed production and because the high notes do not come quite as smooth to him as before.  The chorus is quite memorable and I may call this tune a highlight of the album though that is admittedly low praise at this point. 

Angelica was kind enough to bring me more food and drink then, eyeing me with barely disguised sympathy.  She was no less an example of poetry in motion as her co-worker.  Similarly sturdily built, she opted for a skirt instead of pants and complimented this by wearing nude colored pantyhose and black high heels.  As she served me more rich portions of food I could not help but make the correlation between all the delicious mouthwatering meat and cheese stuffed into the enchiladas before me and all the glorious meat crammed into the hosiery and straining the heels on those deliriously lucky shoes.  Her coal black hair trailed down her back down to her enormous derriere and I longed for both of these goddesses to tell me what an ugly and pathetic loser I really am, to force me into submission and laugh at my inadequacies!

This Is Where You Can Reach Me Now – No sooner do they turn things around that they decide to bring it back with another face meltingly terrible midtempo rocker.  Something about a “soldier, soldier” and generic harmonized vocals and chants which eliminate any chance of interesting dynamics in this already nonexistent melody (this talk style of singing sounds more like a guide vocal than anything else.  Seriously, what the fucking fuck has happened to these guys?!  How is this even fucking possible?!).  This is the second longest song on the album and I can’t imagine what made them think this was one of the ones most deserving of a protracted running time. 

The Troubles (featuring Lykke Li): Yeah guys, the real troubles began when you started writing this stinker of an album, hahahaha.  Good thing you gave it away for free.  Typical calm, center of the storm we write about important stuff U2 closer.  Meh, not bad, I was mostly thankful to just finally be done with the fucking thing.  Lykke Li sounds more interesting in the chorus here than Bono (or anyone else in the band) did for most of the album.  But the main melody is very reminiscent of Duran Duran song Come Undone and/or The Smashing Pumpkins song Mayonaise which makes me angry because those are both far better songs.  But fuck, at least they bothered to include a melody in this one!  That must have been Li’s doing and they probably fought her the whole way on it. 

The album ended, I ordered another drink and started the whole thing over again, needing to rid myself of the trickiness of first impressions.  The second listen was slightly better but that was largely because my nerves were no longer in such a state of shock and the tequila had calmed my restless spirit.  The songs I thought I liked seemed less appealing the second time around but I think that was the eyeball gouging disappointment of the album as a whole rubbing off on the few bright spots.  The restaurant was closing so I plunked down a large stack of bills and stumbled out, mumbling some feverish goodbyes.  I took one last long back at these weighty beauties with their wonderful dark skin, hair black as night and tremendous jiggling rumps and stepped out into the world.  I stumbled through the alleys and passed by bums who smelled like shit and piss and one who had some kind of growth the size of a half-dollar on his lower lip.  I considered ending their misery but knew this would be nothing more than a panacea for the pain of my own failed existence and opted instead to pass out alongside them.  Sleeping in trash and shit with rodents and cockroaches crawling on me, I finally felt at home.  U2 had ruined my evening. 

It’s hard to summarize my thoughts when they are almost all so very negative.  I don’t know if this is more Danger Mouse or U2’s wishes or likely some ghastly hybrid of the two but there is a strong indie hipster pop vibe throughout A LOT of this work that sounds so cheap and calculated and actually embarrassing for a band of U2’s age and stature.  However this does neatly align with this release’s overall lack of hook or anything in the way of interesting melodies.  I dare say this is probably the weakest set of melodies Bono has put together for his vocals.  I don’t want to speculate on diminished technical ability but there surely must be a more graceful way for his singing to age.  It also seems The Edge did not feel there was any need to write any remotely interesting guitar parts for this album and just plays riffs which are interchangeable with almost anybody.  Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr. all but disappear.  Song structure is depressingly predicable and I wish some experimentation would show up somewhere.  The quick ends became something of a sloppy theme of the album, a signature component of the record’s sound – though maybe I should be thankful that most of these songs did not last too long!  I still can’t believe I’m saying things like this about a U2 album! 

But damnit, statements like the ones I made above are unfair!  I know these guys are not slackers, content to rest on their laurels.  I know they sweat each album and that their music is a pure spiritual release for them (at least I think I know this) and they have made some of the most amazing music imaginable.  I know I will listen to this album many more times in an attempt at discovery and trying to unlock something here I can connect with but I would love to know what the group was thinking/feeling when they wrote these songs and understand their perception of the music presented here.  I would have no trouble right now calling this U2’s worst album and I would have a lot of trouble trying to recommend it to someone.  Bono has mentioned that a follow-up album titled Songs of Experience should be ready shortly and I honestly don’t know whether I should be relieved or horrified. 

I’m very curious what the critical consensus will be though I’m sure that if he hasn’t already David Fricke of Rolling Stone will give this one another perfect score.   Fuck, I bet he’ll give it 10 out of 5 stars and say it’s better than War, All That You Can’t Leave Behind, Zooropa, Achtung Baby and The Joshua Tree put together.  He’ll probably conclude by saying it’s the best album ever recorded! 

I’ll say some positive things now.  They are whizzes at marketing and it was super canny to launch this with the iPhone 6 as the amount of publicity they are receiving is staggering.   Much of the music sounds like it was designed for stadiums (though there is not a single song I would really want to hear live, even the ones I do like have been done before and much better) and this is likely all grand promotion for an imminent world tour announcement where they can rake in even more money, moulah, dough, greenbacks, pesos, bread, coin, bank, dead presidents, cabbage.  But how I yearn in my heart of hearts for the days of yore when U2 would put out an album as an artistic statement and not as simple marketing and concert prologue.   However there have been songs and albums which did not click with me or make complete sense until I saw their live renditions so I am hopeful something like that will happen here.  And even with two dud albums (or ten!  Or 100!) I would still say I love you too U2 and I will try my level best to see them live when next they tour.   I will also need more listens to get a grasp on the lyrics. Aside from a couple lines that were overly saccharine or old hat nothing stood out as particularly poor nor was there much I can point to as immediately grabbing me.  Finally, I would like to add that I did not like Achtung Baby when I first bought back in the great fall of 91’.  So there is still a glimmer of hope here, that’s gotta count for something! 

I’ll even end on the most positive note of all and say I think I’ll go give 2009’s No Line on the Horizon another listen because it seems pretty great right now!  

Gustavo Cerati 1959 - 2014

I did not know the man so I will not speak to that.  However I have known and loved his music for many years now.  His lyrical poetry, always beautiful voice and the soundscapes he would create through electronica and guitars are unlike any other and no one will take his place.  I will forever be thankful for the music he made and that it will be around for always. 

I have selected 9 of my favorite songs of his – 3 from his band Soda Stereo, 5 of from solo work and 1 song he wrote for/with Shakira which easily ranks as one of the best in her catalogue.  This barely scratches the surface of his musical legacy and I encourage anyone to dig deeper and discover more of this amazing artist.

I believe what Shakira wrote regarding Gustavo’s passing is particularly poignant and I will leave it here:

          Gustavo, aún nos queda por hacer la canción mas
          importante de todas.
          ...te quiero amigo, y sé que me quieres! 
          ...tal como me enseñaste, “usaré el amor como un puente¨
          ese que nos une todo el tiempo.

Persiana Americana

De Musica Ligera

Ella Uso Mi Cabeza Como Revolver

Puente

No

Rio Babel

Naci Para Esto

Fuerza Natural

Uno Entre Mil

“Yo segui a la estrella mas voraz
nunca me llevo tan lejos
¿Para que creer en el azar?
yo naci para esto”

                                    -Gustavo Cerati

My eyes were always drawn as big black dots

The revelation came just a few humble days ago that Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson would actually be playing the villainous Black Adam and not heroic beefcake Captain Marvel in the upcoming Shazam flick.  Loyal followers of my work will recall I discussed Johnson and this material not so long ago though I was convinced he would be playing the good captain and not his diabolical counterpart.  How shamefully wrong I was and I imagine it was quite a pleasure for all my haters to learn of this casting as it proved what a miserable ugly failure of a man I truly am.  This is the only cast member thus far announced and very little is yet known about the film though many suspect it is slated for a 2016 release date, thus providing a double whammy of DC films alongside Bats v. Supes.  

However we do know for certain that none other than Darren Lemke will be handling script duties!  Cinephiles will no doubt recognize Lemke as the writer of such spirited works as Jack the Giant Slayer and Turbo, two epic passion projects from 2013.  Hopefully he can work similar magic with this material and the upcoming Goosebumps movie which he also penned!  Who am I kidding?  DC and Warner Bros. are determined to sabotage their superhero universe before it even begins!  Green Lantern has taught them nothing!  Big shiny actors can take you a long way but ultimately these movies live and die based on the writing.  Or do they?  Plenty of movies – even superhero ones – have horrible writing and rake in the dough so maybe writing doesn’t matter, at least not to the studios.  And maybe Lemke was just cutting his teeth on those projects and in preparation for a truly epic Shazam film.  I don’t believe that for a second but maybe if I repeat it enough it will start to seem true.  Shazam can be an amazing movie – as all these flicks can and should be – and there is no longer any excuse for less than excellence. 

It initially struck me like a cinderblock to the temple as odd that Johnson would be playing the villain when he has a sturdy filmography of heroic roles.  Yet upon further thought it was as though the cosmos themselves were opened to me and I began having all sorts of Nostradamus like visions of the future.  I see the casting of The Rock as DC and Warner wanting a Tom Hiddleston Loki type figure for their universe.  Specifically, I predict Johnson will appear as Black Adam in the Captain Marvel movie and then show up later in the eventual Justice League film and then somewhere else.  The popularity of this character and the general audience’s desire to see him again of course hinge upon the quality of a Captain Marvel movie which goes back to my earlier point about writing so I hope everyone has some semblance of an idea as to what they’re doing.  I truly wish them the best. 

As a quick aside given the historic fights between Superman and Captain Marvel in such revered work as Kingdom Come, the Man of Steel’s well documented (but never established on the big screen) weakness to magical beings and every studio’s insistence at signing actors to contracts for 57 movies may we one day see a gigantic Superman and Captain Marvel throwdown?  Maybe with the captain being brainwashed by Lex Luthor (is Jesse Eisenberg signed on for more than one movie?  He’s gotta be!).  I am eager to see who will play the captain but more than anything in the world I just want to know if Eisenberg is going to go bald as Lex.  All the recent spy photos have only further sowed the fruitful seeds of confusion. 

David Bowie once said his favorite Beatles song is Revolution 9.  I am not sure if he was joking or deadly serious.  It is a great song and on its day their 1968 double album The Beatles (or The White Album if you’re one of those trendy color obsessed people (though I’ve always personally felt the cover was more off-white than white which is why I often refer to the release as The Off-White Album while in the company of my most cherished music fan friends but also while in the rich company of well-dressed strangers)] could be my favorite release by The Fab Four.  I just love the big sprawling messy  goofa cheegalock smortlcurf craziness shitall drop a nuke style of indulgent wacky bologna on rye bombast that the album has to offer.  Revolution 9 is certainly the apex of that explosion of creativity and seemingly inspired a billion pretentious avant-garde ruffians who only knew how to imitate but not create, who only zigged when they should have zagged.  Those who don’t get the song are just trying too hard and I would love give them each a kiss on the forehead and prepare for them some nice warm buttermilk with cod liver oil before bedtime.  So perhaps it really is Bowie’s favorite, I would certainly never fault him for it and he was known for employing some pretty zany things himself on his albums so I could see the song appealing to the strange inner crevices of his moist mind.  I’m such a weak minded fop that even if I hated the song I would instantly change my opinion on it upon learning of how highly The Thin White Duke holds it in regard.  Coincidently, it is now also my favorite Beatles song! 

The Book of Genesis Illustrated by R. Crumb (or is it The Book of Genesis Illustrated by R. Crumb?) is a beautiful and fascinating tome.  I would not hesitate to recommend it to passionate fans of sequential art in addition to passionate theologians and fun loving atheists.  Incidentally, I have often verbally noted that my beloved friend and sometimes political running mate Calvin Black has a strikingly similar drawing style to Robert Crumb.  For years now I’ve encouraged Black to leave behind his race relations work in D.C. and devote all his time to crafting a revolutionary comic book masterpiece.  I will continue to encourage him until one of our hearts gives out!  Oddly, both our hearts are so full of love that when this happens everyone in a ten mile perimeter will feel an inexplicable and stunningly powerful wave of positive emotion wash over them which will last for roughly 24 hours’ time and set all affected on a path of pure unadulterated righteousness.  In that way, his, my or our deaths will not be vain!  But will they go unavenged?  Ah, therein lies the grub.  I cannot answer that question now but maybe one day when the moon is full and the majestic dolphins are barking at mysterious and frightening unidentified flying objects (OVNI).

She bought it first and it was only after I destroyed everything that I asked for a recommendation.