
The Luna Moth: post-rockin' in the free world.
Seattle’s post-rock community—you know who you are, I think—will get its own festival Jan. 23-25, 2009. Organized by the Luna Moth bassist Levi Fuller, Mark Schlipper, and Kenny Day, Cumulus Festival will showcase some of the Northwest’s most adventurous rock groups at Chop Suey (Jan. 23; Earth will be headlining), King Cobra (Jan. 24), and Vera Project (Jan. 25).
The lineup includes the following bands:
Beast, Please Be Still
Bronze Fawn
Corespondents
Deelay Ceelay
Earth
The Friendly Skies
Hypatia Lake
Joy Wants Eternity
The Luna Moth
Perish the Island
Snowman Plan
This Is a Process of a Still Life
Unlearn
Waves & Radiation
You.May.Die.in.the.Desert
Check Cumulus’ website for more information, as it trickles in.
Let’s talk about the songs that make you tear up (as opposed to those that make you tear it up, which are probably more common). Let’s talk about the songs that put a lump in your throat and make your vision go all watery and tie your ventricles in knots. Let’s talk about the songs that make you feel so bad that you exit from them 180º on the other side of the emotional spectrum into euphoria. Let’s talk about the songs that make wallowing in self-pity a most exquisite pleasure. Because it’s Monday and you’re still kind of hungover…
I’ve been enjoying these types of songs since the ’60s, even though I was way too young to know the definition of “poignant.” I remember hearing on the radio Glen Campbell’s version of “Wichita Lineman” (written by the immortal Jimmy Webb) as a wee lad and being overcome by inexpressible sadness—and elation. That this song could rivet a hyper 7-year-old boy and fill him with contradictory adult feelings may be one meaning of genius.
Another song that swelled my heart and mind with the profound lugubriousness of life while simultaneously inflating my soul was the theme song to Midnight Cowboy by John Barry (fwiw, the film’s also in my top 10 of all time). For decades I’ve been searching for a piece of music that moves me more deeply than this brief paragon of melancholy. Many have come close, but none has surpassed it. As one YouTube commenter astutely put it re: one of the videos showcasing Barry’s composition, “the harmonica sounds like it’s crying.” You don’t even need to see Midnight Cowboy to appreciate the special expression of sadness and longing Barry captures in 2:45. But by all means see the film, if only to ogle Jon Voigt in his prime and marvel that from his seed sprouted Angelina Jolie.
Speaking of great soundtrack music, the score to the 1973 cult UK film The Wicker Man (composed by Paul Giovanni) has enchanted scores of musicians and others highly attuned to sublime British folk music. One piece in particular, “Willow’s Song” [see video below], encapsulates the powerful yearning of the movie’s private investigator (Edward Woodward) and the sanity-threatening seductiveness of its village temptress (Britt Ekland). This one hits below the belt…
Tim Buckley’s “Song to the Siren” is so beautiful and poignant, it makes me feel both ashamed and blessed to be alive. It’s like the Taj Mahal of folk songs. Some people think that This Mortal Coil’s version may even be better than the original (David Lynch used it to devastating effect in Lost Highway). Some people just might be right, for a change.
Pharoah Sanders’ mighty, mystical, free-jazz epic “The Creator Has a Master Plan”—especially Leon Thomas’ yodeling acrobatics—also never fails to move me to my core, causing as much trembling on the 127th listen as it did on the first one.
What songs crack your stoic demeanor and reduce you to a sobbing mess?
Not that Prince. From the Daily Mail:
Michael Jackson begged a Bahrainian prince for money to pay his home bills, the High Court heard today.The pop star took £3.7 million to sing songs composed by Sheikh Abdullah Bin Hamad Bin Isa Al-Khalifa after the pair began collaborating from 2004 onwards, the court was told.
He and Jackson agreed a deal to release joint collaborations and raise money for the victims of the tsunami and Hurricane Katrina.
But the sheik claims the near bankrupt former billionaire took the money and refused to carry out his part of the bargain.
Jackson's personal assistant allegedly made a request for money in 2005 to pay 'utility bills' at his Neverland ranch, which the singer has now been forced to sell.
Bankim Thanki QC, representing the sheikh, told the court his client was very surprised at the perilous state of Jackson's finances.
(ht: Matt Hickey)
Back with a new EP, Something More, is the local rapper Grynch.
Two Good Men (a production duo out of Boston) made the beats, and Geologic of Blue Scholars spits on one of those beats, and Thig Natural of The Physics spits on another. As for Grynch, he continues his quest for hiphop honesty in a world that's entranced by the seductive illusions of big names, big money, and glittering girls with big butts. He describes what it's like to be him: a young and hungry rapper at the end of the first decade of the first century of the new millennium.
You can download the whole EP for free here.

The band is called Five Finger Death Punch. I assume the guy on the left handles all the death punching.

Does Obama mark the death of what brought about the death of rap, namely the gangsta rapper? Let's think about this for a moment.
What made the gangsta rapper so popular in the first place? He represents a mode of power. He has guns, jewels, big wheels, and "hoes in every area code." And the gangsta can justify his anti-social (and apolitical) position as a consequence of economic realities. He did not make himself what he is; this is what the streets made him.
For young black males of our period (the 00s), the gangsta was (outside of professional sports) the leading and most accessible (in terms of comprehension) representation of black power. This representation went unchallenged until the spectacular rise of Obama, who in mode is the gansta's opposite in every way: Obama is educated, maintains a family unit, and is pro-social and political. What happens now? Will the gangsta be exposed as puerile, limited, and backward? Will he be laughed at when he shows a mouth full of gold instead of a brain full of ideas? And if the gangsta does crumble, what will this mean for the state of hiphop? A resurgence of oppressed modes? A return to the modernizing projects of the late 80s? We live in interesting times.
The Mighty Underdogs, Zion-I
(Neumos) TMU are an Oakland supergroup of two celebrated MCs—the breathlessly inventive Gift of Gab and the sharp-flowing Lateef the Truth Speaker—along with producer Headnodic. Both rappers are associated with the Bay Area–based Quannum collective and have released a lifetime of work with Quannum crews (Blackalicious and Latyrx, respectively), but the Underdogs' Droppin' Science Fiction LP is released on NYC indie-hop giant Definitive Jux, known for success with left-of-center shit like El-P and Aesop Rock. While Gab and Lateef's most experimental works are behind them (4th Dimensional Rocketships Going Up and Latyrx [The Album], respectively), their soulful new record and status as Jukies will, let's hope, bring their bold rhymes some more ears to bend. LARRY MIZELL JR.
See more music listings here!