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Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts

The Branches

Long Arm 2011. The Branches feat. Teknical Development (of Obba Supa). On: The Branches. Berlin: Project Mooncircle.

Far away, it's trans-mystic.
Cold air brushes souls, situate as the canvas dance cannabis.
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
A few months ago I tried "concursive" listening of Whiskey Blanket's Credible Forces. Soon after that I began another project of concursive listening (on Horrorshow's The Grey Space), but just like my reading of my own early writing "Kuulinn", it is still unfinished. I decided to take up The Branches because lately I've been doing small art projects inspired by the fact that Whiskey Blanket and Long Arm have suspiciously similar album art designs (see my own attempt at imitating their album art below).
The Branches happens to be one of my all-time favourite instrumental hip-hop albums (it is one of the few releases that even come close to Whiskey Blanket). It is also the album that formed the backbone of one of my most illuminating psychedelic experience. The title track, "The Branches", is the only track on the album that features lyrics. These are written and performed by Teknical Development (of Obba Supa) and enticingly psychedelic in themselves. For context, I'll note that the most celebrated hip-hop album of 2011, when The Branches was released, was Jay-Z and Kanye West's collaboration album Watch The Throne that featured such insightful lyrics as "No disrespect, I'm not tryna belittle / But my dick worth money, I put moanie in the middle". Underground hip-hop listeners generally agree that The Branches was the hip-hop album of 2011.
Moving on from my obvious bias... Today I'm going to get into Teknical's amazing lyrics. I'm generally not a fan of poetry, but Teknical blew me away. As exhibited by vdiskdaddy who doesn't really listen to hip-hop but enjoyed WB's From the Dead of Dark immensely, this kind of music not only is exceptional but is prone to create exceptions. I'll also note that you can support Long Arm and buy The Branches here. For current purposes you can listen to the title track "The Branches" here:
Yellow strokes, crimson skies, hypnotic views will keep you still forever.
Conversation with the clouds of guidance.
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
It is already apparent that even poetic speech that manipulate with the ordinary structures of utterances include implicit references to bodily behaviour. Even more, due to its poetic nature, it can address feelings, sensations and impressions that are otherwise quite difficult to discuss. The experience of standing still while beholding something beatiful must be (or at least should be) familiar to most if not all people. Hypnotic views are even present in the album art (original paintings by Bioniq and design by Gordon), that mesmerizing tree-man reaching for the heavens.
This forest of wonder it whispers with the voice with no face.
No true nature, no direction to this place of extreme beauties.
River flows to the rhythm of your every step,
reflects the strength as the metal creates the ripples.
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
Some reviewer stated that this whole album is "a reflection of a world where human feelings and natural powers are bound together". This indeed seems to be the case and this passage is a vivid illustration: the forest has no face but it has a voice; there are no explicit directions but every step has a significance, the river flows to the rhythm of your every step.
Hugged by the branches; expression: love. The sky cries at random moments.
Winged creature with warm colours they form umbrella structures.
Neon lights that spark in the darkness - transparent souls.
Marvel at the grounded crystals - the floors of healing.
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
Teknical's intense delivery makes it difficult to transcribe the lyrics. I've had to make numerous edits to the lyrics given on Indie Rabbit Hole's blog. His fast-paced delivery makes it even difficult to get a grip of the word order. Eventually it seems that the syntax of these utterances are not as important as the picture they paint, a picture of a magical forest full of deep feelings (branches that hug you out of love, a sky that cries at random moments), mystical creatures (fireflies that manifest themselves as "transparent souls") and fantastical milieus (the ground is made of healing crystals). Everything is being, or as one reviewer puts it: "There is no alive-dead distinction."
The grounds of life, pure in the clearest of visions, a domain where life exist as wild with you.
Conversating with the branch climbers, leaf eaters, underground travellers
walk on waters where the curtains flow, the reflection in the mirror it shows nothing.
This is the place of no judgment.
Death even walks the same path in this zone, but it's only smiles.

(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
This passage demonstrates the deeply psychedelic nature of these lyrics. The wilderness coexists with you and as before you were having a conversation with "the clouds of guidance", now you are conversating with the creatures that climb The Branches and dwell beneath the ground. I cannot say what is meant by walking on waters "where the curtains flow" (waterfalls maybe?) but there is no reflection in the mirror and there is no judgment. It even seems that you are not judging yourself, because you yourself have become a "transparent soul". It takes on an eschatological character - by dwelling in this zone you are on the same path as death, but instead of something to be feared it manifests itself as, perhaps, reuniting with ancestors (the smiling faces). There are endless possibilities to interpret these words and perhaps they shouldn't be, as poetry is untranslatable, but at the same time it feels good to explicate my impressions.
No fears but the one to exit this place.
I return to realities of mixed expressions.
Seated but now we're floating, pure energy, feeling new vibrations.
Higher times where no smoke it lingers.
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
This passage is backed by one of Long Arm's most beautiful sounds - a piano sequence swinging like a pendulum, accompanied by a woman's voice. Teknical's lyrics continue the description of "the place of no judgment" which is also the place of no fears. I especially like his implication that real life is filled with mixed expressions. In an altered state of mind there are fewer mixed expressions, as the mind is more apt to aliven or vivify even passing sensations as expressions. Langer (1948: 202) describes this as the spontaneous generation of Gestalten. You look at your wallpaper patterns and see movement, human forms and faces; similarly, the protagonist in Teknical's lyrics is seated, but nevertheless feels as if he's floating. I've found that in a psychedelic state it is a good idea to lay down and relinquish all resistance. Or as John Cowper Powys puts it: "it is through withdrawing ourselves rather than asserting ourselves, through retreating rather than advancing, through yielding rather than pursuing, through inaction rather than through action, through becoming quiet rather than through making a stir, that we attain wisdom and spiritual power." (Powys 1933: 11)
We're slowly spinning, rotational movement [is] creating patterns of self.
Different colours and symbols, signals from the canvas of thoughts.
Environment breaths life in every moment.
Pick the seedling, watch it grow from the palms of your hands, your tears dwell.
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
The poetry is becoming more and more esoteric. He is conveying an experience that is "slippery", translucent and immeasurable in its nature. It is the experience of everything-being-aliveness that one can attain by opening one's mind up to the chaos of existence. You become one with the planet, and it is no longer the planet that rotates, but you whose life-history now appears intimately tied to the passage of seasons and the passing of days to nights and days again. You experience yourself as an infinitesimal part of everything. The world has not changed but the canvas of your thoughts has; in Peirce's metaphor, you are diving and drowning in your lake of consciousness, or in Rimbaud's metaphor, you are caught in the whirlwind of your sea of consciousness. The latter part of the quote embodies the contention that many psychonauts have - the advice to go to the forest and feel the life around you. The environment does breathe life in every moment. It is an emotional experience - you semble (or "feel empathy") with nature and your tears may indeed dwell. In the end this is the reason why psychedelics aren't "recreational" in the common sense but transformative in the sense that they re-create your "patterns of self".
No desires to leave this place, brought back to the souls earth bound, looking for the exit.
The heart sinks for the purpose of my new steps. What was this now disappears?
Waves from circles of life you soon meet again.
Your arms raise, gesture with a smile of many questions.
Back to this place - boring - before you walk the path of new scenes.
Glass is now filled again, flick the light up, now we back-tracking it. Now begins...
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
What begins after this passage is the break-down (more colloquially: Long Arm dropped the bass). Teknical's lyrics have here remarked upon the othes side of the mind-body dualism. It is not only the canvas of thoughts that has become terrain but one's whole body has come to resonate with the environment. This is the proprioceptive hyper-awareness familiar to psychonauts: one can feel changes in circulation and respiration very vividly ("heart sinks"). The "circles of life" are neatly demonstrated by Long Arm, whose haly-minute instrumental part following these words move in a roundabout manner, as if a disk were rotating back and forth and beating the drums to a musical heart-beat. Raising hands and gesturing "with a smile of many questions" is the most concursive passage yet. It sounds like a description of the tree-man on the album cover, but he does not appear to be smiling, but has more of an awe expression. He is raising his hands and reaching towards "the clouds of guidance" though. Other reviewers have written that the improssion is that of "trying to touch the sun rays and pass heaven sent light through fingers". This is surely more entertaining than the boring real life of mixed expressions.
Burning insides, earth poisons, rest the glass that's hidden.
Two windows smashed with the impact of deep waters.
Drowning so it seems, I calm down and realize I'm still breathing.
From where I left I now swim aquatic.
Swimming to the scale of friendly ocean dwellers.
Sentient life of another, but this occasion felt like nothing carries me.
Try'na find the surface, now just another jewel walking the golden sands of pleasures.
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
The well-timed tension-building and release offered by loud drum beats are perfectly complementary to the lyrics - the melodic turmoil does feel like windows are smashed by waters and you are immersed in deep waters alonside the narrator, flowing along to the musical scale. On my trip accompanied by this album I imagined piano chords connecting two bridges of Emajõgi and myself diving from those strings into the water. On this note it seems appropriate to remark upon the poetic use of parallelisms/articifice or Jakobsons "imputed similarity". Although both iconicity and artifice share "similarity", it is the case that icons are factually similar to their referents but in the case of artifice the similarity is imputed (attributed). Thus we have the complex metaphors of: clouds of guidance, a forest of wonder, the crystal floors of healing and life, a place of no judgment or fear, realities of mixed expressions, the canvas of thoughts, earth-bound souls and transparents souls, circles of life, a smile of many questions, etc... And add to this list "the scale of friendly ocean dwellers". These expressions are difficult to conceptualize and visualize in any concrete forms, but that's exactly what makes them poetic, given that poetry does not talk about things but about itself. At best I can imagine that the scale of friendly ocean dwellers is the "marine acoustics" of fish, dolphin and whale sounds.
Is this another trap - door housed by the content of raw footage?
The branch of this journey now splits into two.
The method of decapitation, top the head to experience new growth.
Rapid as the polarities form [the] ins and outs of a mystical journey.
The forest entrance [is] a spectrum that cures the soul, bleeds emotion.
The force is weak as [compared to] what was experienced before.
Still boils, pure in the blood circulating.
Staring at them both, the smiles are mutual; fire in the sky, it falls.
As it merges as one Maya reveals itself as you.
Forest changes with the sound of trance.
Life hibernates, gone like it's forever missing.
Leaves fall, unmasked itself now remains branches naked
.
(Long Arm ft. Teknical Development 2011: 10)
Here I have lots of transcription issues. For example, I can't be sure whether the forest entrance cures or curses the soul. What I wrote down as "staring at them both" is "steering at temper" in IRH's version; alse I hear "mutual" where IRH version says "neutral". I don't know what steering at temper or neutral smiles mean, but I do know that mutual smiles arise through mutual glancing ("visual contact"). The last two lines sum up the track and the album (it's the last track before a "Thank You" with cheering and then an instrumental version of this same track). I like these lines because they capture the essence of winter - trees become naked branches and it seems to last forever. Ja lõpetuseks eestikeelne kehv proosatõlge:
Kaugel maal on ülimalt müstiline. Külm õhk silitab hingi. Paiguta end kuniks lõuend tantsib cannabis'e järgi. Kollased pintslitõmbed, veripunane taevas ja hüpnootilised vaated hoiavad sind igavesti liikumatult. Vestlus juhendavate pilvedega. See imeline mets sosistab häälega millel pole nägu. Sellel äärmuslike ilude paigal pole loomust, pole suunajuhiseid kuidas sinna saada. Jõgi voolab su iga sammu rütmis, peegeldab nende tugevust ja tekitab veepinnal virvendusi. Puuoksad embavad sind. Väljendus: armastus. Taevas nutab juhuslikel hetkedel. Oksal istub tiivuline olend soojade värvidega mis moodustavad vihmavarju-struktuure. Neoonvalgus helendab pimeduses - need on läbipaistvad hinged. Imetle jahvatatud kristalle mis katavad tervendavat ja eluandvat maapinnast, vaatle selgeima pilguga ala kus elu eksisteerib metsikuna sinu ümber. Vestled okstel ronijatega, lehesööjatega, maaaluste ränduritega kes kõnnivad vetel mis langevad eesriidena. Sul puudub peegeldus. See on kohtumõistmiseta koht. Isegi surm kõnnib sama rada siinkandis, aga siin on ainult naeratused. Pole muud hirmu kui siit lahkuda.
Naasen segaste väljenduste reaalsusesse. Istun, aga ka hõljun puhta energiana, tunnetan uusi vibratsioone. Pilves ilma suitsuta. Me pöörleme aeglaselt ja liikumine loob meie endi mustreid, erinevaid värve ja sümboleid, signaale mõttelõuendilt. Keskkond hingab igal hetkel elu. Korjad üles seemne, vaatad kuidas see kasvab su peopesast ja su silmadesse koguneb pisaraid. Pole mingit tahtmist siit lahkuda, aga sind tuuakse väljapääsu otsides tagasi maapinda aheldatud hingede sekka. Süda vajub saapasäärde mu uute sammude eesmärgi pärast. Mis see oli mis nüüd kadus? Lained eluringidelt, te kohtute peagi taas. Sa tõstad oma käed, küündid taeva poole naeratusega milles on palju küsimusi. Tagasi siin on igav, varem kõndisid sa uute maastike rajal. Klaas on jälle täis, lülitad tule põlema, nüüd me keerame tagasi ja see algab...
Maised mürgid põletavad kõhtu. Peidad klaasi ära. Sügavate vete kokkupõrkest puruneb kaks akent. Jääb uppumise mulje, aga ma rahunen maha ja taipan, et ma hingan ikka veel. Nüüd ujun ma vees, sõbralike ookanielukate skaalal, teise teadlikul elul, aga see tundub nagu midagi ei kannaks mind. Üritan ujuda pinnale, kuid olen nüüd veel üks juveel naudingute kuldsel rannal. Kas see on järjekordne keldrialune mis sisaldab tooreid tajumusi? Selle rännaku oks murdub nüüd kaheks. Kärbitud ladvaga kogeb puu nüüd uut, kiirendatud, kasvu mille polaarsused moodustavad selle müstilise rännaku sisendid ja väljendid. Metsa sissepääs on spektrum mis ravib hinge, veristab emotsioone. Jõud on nüüd nõrk võrredes varem kogetuga. Ikka veel keeb ja ringleb veres puhtal kujul. Vaatame üksteisele otsa ja naeratame. Taevast hakkab tuld sadama. Oksad saavad uuesti kokku ja Maia paljastab iseennast sinuna. Mets muutub koos selle helidega. Elu talvitub, läheb ära nagu see jääb alatiseks kaduma. Lehed kukuvad ja puu jääb nüüd maskita, paljasteks oksteks.

Credible Forces

Whiskey Blanket 2007. Credible Forces. Boulder: Independent.

Same old police still roams the streets
The same hand that feeds you still holds the leash.
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 2 - Night Walz)
This could be one of those nonverbal metaforms/metophors Danesi is on about. I'm hoping to collect more explicitly concursive quotes from this album. Also, I have to note that this is the very first (music) album I am "listening concursively." That is, I'm broadening my concursive enterprise to music, films and pehaps even other art forms. So-called "body articulations" can be found everywhere.
Wake and stretch and take a breath
When you reach the front door try to pace your step
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 3 - Wake And Stretch)
These sound instructive. Charles Morris probably has a specific category for these kinds of "suggestive" statements. In any case, there are three behaviours present: stretching the body (after waking up; sirutamine, virgumine), taking a breath (on command; intentionally), and pacing steps (again directing conscious attention to footwork).
I'm short on breath like Funny Biz is short on change. [sound of coins clinging]
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 3 - Wake And Stretch)
Being out of breath - is it a behaviour or a state?
But I've been doing what I like since I was breast-fed
and I'll do the same until the day I fluff the pillow for my death-bed.
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 3 - Wake And Stretch)
A good expression which "embryonically" contains a situation: a man lying on his death-bed, re-adjusting (fluffing, making fluffy) the pillow. Very... eye-minded, as M. Joos would put it.
As I sit I let the past entice visions of how my path in life has turned into a powerful device of love and sacrifice...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 4 - Wake And Stretch)
Here the artivity - sitting - is put to use as "a plot device." It describes the situation: the rapper is sitting and letting his mind wonder.
But I'll just take it for granted that I've been put on this planet to serve a purpose, a reason, a service to certain beings, like every person hurt or bleeding in a fervent seach for feeding my soul with a deeper meaning, and I'm breathing, but breath can be deceiving, believing that every next proceeding day is just yesterday for repeating...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 4 - Wake And Stretch)
The first (emboldened) instance in a visualizing device: the rapper states that he is in the service of people wha have been wronged, who are hurt, and those not only hurt, but visibly hurt - bleeding. The second instance sounds like a meta-description: the rapper has just uttered a long stretch of rhymes and says - as if to himself - that he is breathing, after which he takes an audible breath and proceeds to discuss some aspect of breathing. That brath can be deceiving could be a reference to the fact that words can lie.
Now what exactly do people think when they see or hear me [...]
I can never tell what others interpret, do they see a man who's life is perfect? [...]
It hurts less when I don't think, but I love attentive eyes that don't blink
And my heart sinks when I'm adored
It seems like only yesterday when I was ignored...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 4 - Make Believe)
Here we have a self-conscious discourse, a worrying about what others think of oneself and a valuable remark that self-consciousness can be ignored: one can stop worrying about what others think and thus save oneself some trouble. Almost immediaty the other side of the coin is presented: it feels good to be in front of attentive eyes (that don't blink). This is the bifurcated characteristic of public presentations: on the one hand one feels self-conscious and on the other it feels good. I'm sure the neuroscience of public speaking has already narrowed these aspects down to adrenaline and whatever, but at this point we're interested in the poetic expressions of these phenomena.
Do you know me now?
- The way you tilt your head and raise an eyebrow -
I wonder what you could have learned by listening
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 4 - Make Believe)
Wow. The concursive description is uttered by another voice. It's as if there's a self-conscious protagonist and a descriptive narrator present. The nonverbal behoviour described is questioning, or what Young (1930: 208) called "a facial interrogation point" that demands an answer. The protagonist proceeds to enumerate possible answers ("that kid can sing" etc. left out of thequotation) but before it proposes a counter-question: what could the listener have learnt by way of observation? This topic falls under the heading of "nonverbal ethics," e.g. the feelings involved by the subject who is being watched or observed.
Funny Biz is writing rhymes on little books/box of matches.
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 4 - Make Believe)
"Object language" - this quote is uttered by "the other" (rapper), again a description of activity from "the narrator's" point of view. The content is seemingly meant to be taken comically - the image is of a rapper writing rhymes on anything that suits him; in this case - in the restaurant - it is a box of matches. Also, note the phonetic similarity here between "books" and "box" - I cannot differentiate by hearing which one is uttered, and both seem to fit semantically as well.
I've never been the type to follow all the latest fashions
nor do I get so drunk I lose control of all my actions
unless I meet a girl who's got a butt like Toni Braxton's
and come to find her friends have all got sexy foreign accents
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 4 - Make Believe)
The impression is again comical mixed with serious self-descriptions (Bakhtin would probably say serio-comical). The impression is also fostered by the playful "carnivalistic" music on the background. The verbal content reifies the connection between alcohol and irresponsive behaviour (losing control of one's actions).
Yo, I take two steps back to examine where I'm headed...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 4 - Make Believe)
Another point for metaphorization: distancing oneself - almost physically, by stepping back - from abstract concepts (one's directions in life).
It's out of hand / still / I've got a grip of what matters...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 4 - Make Believe)
Again, "what matters" is a metaform that can be "handled" and "gripped". Cognitive processes or states have been given concursive expression.
Throw me a bone and you ain't never gonna get it back...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 5 - Dark Secrets)
This is interesting because of the mixed levels: "throwing someone a bone" is a metaphorical expression of giving someone a chance or helping out, and "giving it back" reifies it as a physical activity. This must be "the treasure of poetic language" where everything is free to be remolded or played with.
I don't wanna live in a box searching for a saviour
receiving free time for good behovior
step into the chamber and smell the vapor
let it sink into your skin like a rusty razor
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 5 - Dark Secrets)
What we have here is a barrage of prison imagery (although I have to admit my own ward "barrage" is itself filled with war-time imagery - there's no escape from imagery). On first listening "living in a box" and "searching for a saviour" could be read from the standpoint of critical attitude towards religion, e.g. searhing for a saviour is living in a box. But it makes better sense to consider this in relation with the tendency of prison population to turn religious (what else is there to do than to go to the chapel?). Getting time off for good behaviour is a definite prison trope. The prison association is yet again reinforced by the somatic imagery of a chamber that stinks intensely enough to sink into the skin (sharply, like a razor).
I don't wanna be a wack-rapping gun-slinging gangster with my chain hanging, bustin' slugs and slangin' drugs and illin' while I'm gang-banging.
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 6 - Necessity)
Another use of the same level-mixing technique, where common tropes of low-brow gangster rap (e.g. bustin' slugs and slangin' drugs) are presented in a weirdle literal way.
Oh, hello, my name is Sloppy Joe, I play the fiddle and I'm good at what I love so my life is pretty simple but, uh, you've prolly seen me at the back of the class, looking distracted, doodling and scratching my ass...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 9 - Temptations)
If I remember correctly then social psychologists have even proven that students who pay the most attention are sitting at the front or in the center - that attention is actually regulated by the teacher's visual field. In this verse Sloppy Joe introduces himself and recalls where and how he might have been most remembered. It is almost as if sitting at the back of the class and looking distracted are followed by a short list of symptoms of looking distracted: doodling and scratching his ass. The implication seems to be that attentive students do not doodle (they listen to the teacher) and don't indulge in "inappropriate" behaviours - instead of scratching his ass any given self-adaptor could have been named (picking or scratching his nose, for example).
So I actively try to keep this rapping alive
when the show is over I'll be slapping some five
throw my hat to the sky, cause I have to be live
to keep the music cruisin' with the happening vibe
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 9 - Temptations)
I wonder if there's a "semantic relation" between keeping hip-hop alive and the activities listed immediately afterwards. It is as if giving out high-fives and throwing hats in the air serve as means to keep up the "happening" vibe and in this way also keep hip-hop alive. Also, I just remembered that Whiskey Blanket has a "quirky" stage presence. In one interview they were questioned about why two of them squat while one is standing up and rapping. Their reply was cogent, that in this way the currently rapping person "stands out." Whiskey Blanket's body language is indeed interesting. They are not of course alone with such antics as high-fives and hat-throwing. It seems that many rappers do namy things to keep the audience attentive. Lords of the Underground, for example, handed out vinyls and rigorously instructed the audience to use their bodies; e.g. make the "L" emblem with their hands, etc.
So I give the directions [...] as we speak
so raise the bar, raise the roof, raise an eyebrow...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 9 - Temptations)
Could these be the instructions for the audience? If so then they are again poetically mixing the abstract with the concrete, e.g. one cannot raise the bar, the roof, and an eyebrow in exactly the same way.
Do you wanna run with those who get drunk ang take off their clothes?
If you doubt us, strike a pose...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 10 - Seamless)
Concursive, but incogent. What pose?
You can try to step quick
but you're looking shaky as an epilectic
and your head feels big because of your necklace...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 10 - Seamless)
I believe this is called a punchline. Otherwise it seems like they are just playing around with words, desperately trying to find something to rhyme (which they do, quite well), but with no "story" behind it. I'm beginning to think that the "mixed technique" mentioned earlier is a part of the punchline phenomenon, which here seems to consist of double entendres, e.g. "just leave that beef right back in the stu" - with "beef" having a slang meaning as grudge. Overall "Seamless" seems like a track made "just for fun" with Audible Audities.
No American Idol winner is speaking [?] on rap
just cause they can get a room full of people to clap...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 11 - Credible Sources)
I can't tell if the word is speakin', beatin', or vegan. In any case the message is admirable: that the size of the audience should not be the measure of music.
I analyzed the words of critics as they tore me apart
they help me build a bonfire out of only the spark
and that's good, great, / fresh / that's something worth living for...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 11 - Credible Sources)
I wonder if members of WB will read this as well. It's not a review in the traditional sense, but it's something...
Nowadays it's all glitter and glass and jigglin' ass
and nobody willing to just think of the past
you see if I became a teacher every kid in the class
would get a take-home assignment called Listen to Jazz.
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 11 - Credible Sources)
Meritorious verse. The concursive aspect - ass-jiggling - is presented as a metonym for cheesy XXX music videos which dominate the mainstream rap music scene.
I woke up about half past the quarter to two. I had to gather my thoughts for a moment or two, and soon enough the day begun, I'[wa]s feeling a little bit lazy from the night before / kinda sore / sorta tired, tryina' find a pair of socks and a shirt that wasn't dirty, freshen up and try to hit the road by one thirty...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 12 - Don't Get Hirt)
This whole track is very descriptive, but explicitly bodily activities are only began with. Since the main concern lays with hygiene, transportation and food, I believe this would be what bakhtinians would call the "bodily lower stratum." The bold span, gathering thoughts after waking up, seems like a common everyday experience. I wouldn't be surprised if oneirologists had a special term for it.
What's miraculous about it is [...] Everybody's looking for their true selves. We're all trying to fulfill ourselves, understand ourselves, get in touch with ourselves, face reality... Explore ourselves, expand ourselves. Ever since we dispensed with God we've had nothing but ourselves to explain, this meaningless horror of life. / You're a wacko... /
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 14 - The Probable Antagonist)
This soundbite is Eddie Jessup's speech from the movie Altered States (1980). It may suit well this year's summer school of semiotics, the topic of which is autocommunication. I'm compiling a list of notions related to self-communication, so watching this movie may prove useful.
...it burns when he speaks, cause sometimes it goes without a reply. He's [got] doubt in his eyes, the fountain subsides and reverts into a desert. He woke up at his parents house and his head hurt, wearing his red shirt he was sent to the psychiatrist...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 15 - Ritenoir)
There's so much embedded into this, it's difficult to unravel. The burning sensation felt when speaking and not getting a reply may be ascribed to some unidentified emotion (psycholinguists, help?). Embodying doubt in one's eyes is a common case of ascribing emotions to eyes when in fact there is a whole complex of facial and bodily factors involved - this is the case af ambiguity in concursivity; when a verbal expression merely announces but does not describe the nonverbal expression. The part about the subsiding fountain may be a poetic metaphor for eyes turning "dim." Generally I noticed only now that the title of this sad song is a reference to Ritalin, and a reference to the psychopharmaceutical affair going on in the US (e.g. suicides caused by these stimulants).
When the doctor came in she arose to her feet / Now, now, Ma[da]m, you better have a seat, / Oh no, bad news, what could it be / Well how's life at home been recently?
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 15 - Ritenoir)
A point for concursive interrelationships. This is like a scene from any given American unfolding before our imagination. The woman stands up because she has been waiting for the doctor and he opens with "you better have a seat" which is a typical warning sign of giving or receiving bad news.
As he grabbed his briefcase he got weak in the knees
rushed for the car and clumsily reached for his keys
she grabbed the book-bag, hopped on the bike
staying ready, steady peddling with all of her might
stricken with the sudden feeling something was not right
he slammed on the gas as he sped through a stop light
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 15 - Ritenoir)
The episode goes on until they find mom's dead body at home. This is very concursive, almost like a (manu)script. It seems like they intentionally tried to make a visual impact, emphasized even further by the way dialogue of voices, each describing another activity or the activity of another character.
I'm simply captivated by the way that humans behave
It's been a major inspiration when my music is made
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 16 - Improper Paradise)
This is the last and perhaps the best track on this album. And, even more, the primary reason I chose to "read" the lyrics concursively (mostly because of the hand-in-the-pockets bit coming up soon). This specific quote, though, implicates the rapper is nonverbalism, that is, watching people and drawing inspiration from that.
But really who am I to judge when I'm just here to observe...
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 16 - Improper Paradise)
Could just as well be a part of the code of conduct for people-watchers.
I walk around with my hands in my pockets cause I don't want you to know what I'm doing. I walk around with you off of my conscience cause I know that you're only a human.
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 16 - Improper Paradise)
Perhaps the best chorus I know. I so want to use this quote if I ever get around to writing my own dystopian fiction.
I'm left to contemplate my observations of society and how the majority is far from what they'd like to be. What a sight to see: intriguing yet appalling how some could give a fuck while sell a [?] for a calling.
(Whiskey Blanket 2007: 16 - Improper Paradise)
Quote-worthy in every way. I'm glad I undertook re-listening this album after a long while. There's much in the lyrics that I am unable to decode because they tend to get a bit too fast at times, but even in those cases the music itself makes up for it. I'm sure I'll try to concursivize more albums, perhaps even their No Object (2010).