Fool

Rhye has forged a new scape in my musicology -- now there are ways to be found high above treeline, or in the deep trees of another.  Most songs on Woman get so close, then promptly breathe on the spot they teased; it's beautiful and opaque and like reading body language two days later.  Now, exfoliated, in full swoon, and hoping that pining blooms new words for tracing fingers toward an untried, unknown cusp.

Yorke, mint.

The first time this happened, I watched with the lights off three times in a row...




Round two and there's still this sublime-Golem reconfiguration, but now it wants more and tries less; not to mention that the last minute gently holds a perfect handful of compositional gems (queue hand over ear, ear on hip sequence).

Best of all? Now, feel better about loosey-goosin' it in the kitchen by yourself.

Run it Back

This song is absolutely gorgeous, and runs with the watercolor theme.

Might be onto something

Uh!

This shit is awesome.

2,000 watercolors and call it a music video.

You may now dance.

On Light

This will never happen again.  With a camera in hands, light delineates frames.  

Without it, everything washes together in sense-gusts.  

But walking around and snapping with the phone (Instagram that shit!) doesn't require a shift in perspective; imagine getting a phone call on your (D)SLR - it would screw everything up.  If ways of seeing are ways of life, of being, then I'm going analog (which even the DSLR can feel like in comparison to the phone).  Better yet, maybe it's the fall from consciously composing with the eyes that lets you best feel the world. 

Hummingbird, Swoon

It's not the best song on their new album (I would go here or here for that), but it's got enough reverse slow-mo and masks to warrant a watch.  The album, though, is beautiful.  It lacks the catchy-ness of Gorilla Manor, but manages to transcend all that freshman jazz by delivering an emotional complexity that I think most of us wish we possessed.  Give Hummingbird a couple go-rounds, and yearning, haunting melody will no doubt possess you. Trust me - this is a good thing.

Edge

coffe like dirt

see what it crunches like when you step on different places

tree birds

valley melt

Morning Tongue

Inkling

This one breaks rules.  But there's a face in the clouds and deer in the trees (if you want them to be) and it's a good question - what happens when you follow the path left?

There's a Grizzly Bear song that goes, "Too young and thoughtless, to calm your memories." I'd like that.

Last Hurrah

Every year during 'the return' of the holiday season, a new spot calls, and so, there must be tromping further and further from the Sanctuary. Last year, the river down by Althea's revealed itself. This time, it was across the river, through the bovine gallery's stomping grounds, and into the pines for some old school RandR. Analog style. Tree groans and slatted beams from a seat of needle kush and count it, I'm golden in synesthesia.

But the crew needs love too, so the Triumvirate of Thrill (father, son, son) decided to take it to the man and find our way to I-64 in order to bask in some back-country TV. Go watch a highway one time, it's wicked fun.

It's only with a goal in mind that you can get lost. Without the growl of the interstate luring us, we could have spent more time checking out the dried up lake, following track leads, or just ninja kicking trees (per Dad). I guess the point is that it seems easy to get lost these days. Maybe even more uncertain is where the goals are coming from.

The solvent came when I remembered how, last semester, a good friend of mine shared, "stress is a product of comparison; don't live someone else's life." Tromp on.

Creature Fear

Staring down the barrel of another day in 'the life'...

Descarte argued that vision must be understood as simply a more refined, subtle, and extended form of touch -- as if a blind man had very sensitive walking sticks that could reach for miles. If that's the case, shit got real touchy-feely on today's gander.