The life and times of Isaac Dust
In this episode of the Head The Gong Podcast, I pay tribute to the man who has been my top source of musical inspiration for the past several years, the inimitable Glen Hansard.
Here are some past blog posts in which I extoll the virtues of the mighty Glen:
http://headthegong.com/the-swell-season/
http://headthegong.com/red-chord/
http://headthegong.com/drive-all-night/
http://headthegong.com/11-things/
http://headthegong.com/defining-moment/
I’m searching, but I can’t for the life of me recall how I was first exposed to the music of the late Jason Molina. I believe it was a random event that I happened to hear the song “Back on top” from the album “The Lioness.” I remember initially being somewhat put off by his voice, as I was by Neutral Milk Hotel‘s Jeff Mangum at first listen. As with Jeff though, I was quickly won over by the sheer soul being transmitted into my brain, laser-like, by Molina’s music. The lyrics, in particular, to “Back on top” had me reeling:
I’ve been thrashed by the truth of your body
I’ve been thrashed by the truth of your eyes
You looked me square in the eyes
You said don’t take but one thing to be your truth
You said don’t take but one thing to be your truth
Sad, heavy music–just the kind I like to lose myself in, especially when playing and singing songs myself. Rather than fanning the flames of sorrow and self-pity, I find that such immersion and expression cleanses me in some deep way. Anyway, for whatever reason, I purchased the tune from iTunes, but never got around to exploring the rest of the songs on the record, not to mention Molina’s full oeuvre. It was my mentor and hero, Glen Hansard, who put things right when he released an EP of Molina’s songs earlier this month. “It was triumph we once proposed” is a tribute to Molina and the friendship that sprung up between the two men over their mutual connection to the heart and soul of music. Hansard’s lovely take on Molina’s tunes inspired me this week to explore further. After listening to Hansard’s EP, I discovered a documentary on YouTube that gives a glimpse of the sweetness and intensity and sadness and wondrousness overflowing from Molina as he was immersed in the process of recording the album “Josephine”:
Then, earlier today, I learned Molina’s song, “Being in love,” and I’ve been playing and singing it with a growing urgency for the past two hours or so. Turns out the song was featured on the “Lioness” record. I should have bought it all those years ago! But then I wouldn’t be enjoying the discovery of it now, right now actually, as it plays in the background while I type these words. I will be making a purchase later on this afternoon…
Reverb 10 Prompt (from Sam Davidson): What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life?
Okay party people, I won’t try to fake you out with this one. I needed a break from staring at shiny rectangles, and a song descended from the Great Unknown, demanding to be birthed into some form of existence. There are only so many hours in the day, so I’m gonna have to half-ass my response to the prompt. To make up for it, I will perform the song for you (via the trusty iMac I got for my 40th birthday!). As an added bonus, at the end of the song I tagged on a cover of Bad Bone by The Frames, just for the heck of it (which is why it’s such a long video clip). Anyhoo, 11 things I can do without…
1) Triscuits: Especially the Cracked Pepper and Olive Oil kind. I just ate a box for dinner.
2) Self-imposed isolation: Gotta mingle with other humans more often.
3) Playing on the computer after 9pm: Last night I tweeted in my sleep.
4) Watching television: I don’t watch much now, but admittedly I watch crap online all the time, which is pretty much the same thing.
5) The belief that I don’t need any insurance whatsoever: While I very rarely get sick (like, once every few years), I am an old man now, so I probably need one of those rubber-glove-up-the-wazoo exams at some point.
6) The belief that I’m an old man: Seriously, I need to drop that one immediately. I know damn well that I look and feel great for my age, and when I think about it for even a minute I realize with certainty that I’m better in every way now than at any other point in my life. Except maybe when it comes to sports.
7) My resistance to hard work: I prefer to go with the flow, but sometimes you have to bust ass.
8) My crippling fear of rejection: Dude. You’re f-ing 40 years old already! Get over yourself!
9) My avoidance of friendships with women: I’m afraid of what will happen if sexual attraction rears its head (so to speak), which with me is almost unavoidable. Is it possible for such a friendship to be charged and intense, but not lead to anything that could jeopardize my good standing with my wife? I wouldn’t know, because I maintain my distance to such an extreme than any sort of close friendship with another woman is impossible.
10) My belief that people, for the most part, are ignorant, cowardly a-holes who refuse self-awareness at every turn in favor of distraction and empty pursuits: I’ve been working on this one a lot lately. Everyone’s doing the best they can with the cards they’ve been dealt and I am no better than anyone. When I choose to see people as basically good-natured, everybody is much happier.
11) My tendency to wait for good things to happen instead of putting myself on the line to make them happen.
I will work on all of these things by keeping up with my core spiritual practices: Creative expression, authentic relationships, mindfulness meditation, somatics (body-centered stuff), self-reflection and critical inquiry. And singing songs:
Don’t lose your head
Don’t
Don’t focus on the pain
You’ll only make it worse
You’ll drive yourself insane
If I don’t get there first
You’re standing on the edge
Without a parachute
I’ll see you on the ground
Enjoy the ride
[Don’t lose your head]
So
How many have I loved
How many never knew
I kept it to myself
Then gave it all to you
And now that you are gone
There’s nothing left to lose
So I’m back here on the edge
Here goes nothing
[Don’t lose your head]
Bad Bone [Glen Hansard]
There’s a bad bone inside me
All my trouble started there
All the cracks are adding up to be
A little more than you can bear
When I met you, you were bitter still
From a scar you’re never gonna show
And I was cursed with a jealousy
It’s killed every love I’ve ever known
And oh, what’s the point in staying still
When there’s so many places we can go
When the anger that you feel
Turns to poison in you soul
And the cracks you only feel
Start to show
You were waiting on the balcony
And I was sleeping in your bed
You said I pleased you only partially
But I knew my hunger would be fed
And oh, what’s the point in holding out
For a love that only will destroy
When the anger that you feel
Turns to poison in your soul
And the cracks you only feel
Start to show
And oh, all my thoughts of getting clear
And of getting out before my time
Have died with you upon the vine
I’m still in my Glen Hansard phase, spending way too much time watching/listening to every bit of him I can find on YouTube. A few weeks ago I saw this video of Hansard, Markéta Irglová, and Colm Mac Con Iomaire sitting around a tree in Milano, Italy playing a cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Drive all night”. I was never a big Springsteen fan and I’d never heard the song before, but I was just blown away. I immediately downloaded the original version from Bruce’s album “The River”, and was not disappointed. I hadn’t realized the song “Hungry Heart” was also on that record. That song was in heavy rotation at the Frear Park ice rink in Troy, New York back in the early 1980’s, and it’s impossible for me to hear it without vividly recalling the sound of skates scraping the ice, and the sensation of cool air streaming across my face as I whizzed around, zig-zagging between slower skaters, trying to impress some doll-faced girl wrapped up in a pink scarf with matching mittens. There was also hot chocolate in the vending machine and absolutely no chance I’d want to stop skating when it was time to go. It would be nearly thirty years before I’d hear any more of that Springteen album, but it was certainly worth the wait.
Since I can’t get the song out of my head and can’t stop playing it whenever I pick up my guitar, I saw no harm in hitting the RECORD-button last night. Although I haven’t yet received permission from The Boss to post this online, I’m sure he won’t lose sleep over it…
Drive all night
When I lost you honey sometimes I think I lost my guts too
And I wish God would send me a word
send me something I’m afraid to lose
Lying in the heat of the night like prisoners all our lives
I get shivers down my spine and all I wanna do is hold you tight
CHORUS
I swear I’ll drive all night just to buy you some shoes
And to taste your tender charms
And I just wanna sleep tonight again in your arms
Tonight there’s fallen angels and they’re waiting for us down in the street
Tonight there’s calling strangers,
hear them crying in defeat.
Let them go, let them go, let them go,
do their dances of the dead (let’em go right ahead)
You just dry your eyes girl, and c’mon c’mon
c’mon let’s go to bed, baby, baby, baby
CHORUS
There’s machines and there’s fire waiting on the edge of town
They’re out there for hire but baby they can’t hurt us now
Cause you’ve got, you’ve got, you’ve got,
you’ve got my love, you’ve got my love
Through the wind, through the rain, the snow, the wind, the rain
You’ve got, you’ve got my, my love
heart and soul
Copyright © Bruce Springsteen (ASCAP)
[The photo above is a tree that I walk past every day on my way to and from work. Anyone familiar with Franklin Street has probably seen it. Reminds me of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”.]
A sleepy version of a song by Glen Hansard of The Swell Season and The Frames. I just discovered Hansard a couple of weeks ago and since then I can’t stop listening to the guy’s music. I’m just blown away by the soulfulness and sincerity of the man, and I’m inspired to play and create like I haven’t been in years. Thanks Glen! (I tried to keep this version of the song mellow, so as not to piss the neighbors off too much, but I doubt I’m even capable of belting out those “Yeahs” like Hansard does. Perhaps some day…)
RED CHORD (on The Frames’ album “Fitzcarraldo”)
And I’m pulling on the red chord
That pulls you back to me Lord
It helps me out
When you’re away
When I was in the army
And they called you back to save me
And I was resting soft
In the arms of my war
And I’m pulling on the red chord
That pulls you back to me Lord
And I’m pulling on the red chord
So you’re not so far away
And I was at the uni..
The university of
Blind love and black poetry
And it was there I found you
And you were happy like an angel
But for everything you learned
There is something you must let go of
And I’m pulling on the red chord
That pulls you back to me Lord
And I’m pulling on the red chord
That pulls you back to me Lord
Pulls you back to me Lord
Yeah, pulls you back to me Lord
Pulls you back to me Lord
Yeah, pulls you back to me Lord
Every once in a while I stumble upon a new artist who catches me by surprise and sneaks into my heart. That’s what happened this weekend as I spent hours listening to, watching and reading everything I could find having to do with The Swell Season. Actually it all started last week, when I was tipped off that some band I never heard of did a nice cover of Neutral Milk Hotel‘s “Two-headed boy”:
The Swell Season covers Neutral Milk Hotel
I was more than a little impressed, and so this weekend decided to check these cats out. Apparently this duo of Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová starred together in a little independent movie called Once that made quite a big splash in the U.S. the year I was living in relative isolation in rural Mexico. In any event, I had simply never heard of The Swell Season, and so for me they were a totally new discovery. I haven’t had time to rent the movie yet, but I’ve been blown away by their music and their whole vibe in general. Of course Markéta has me completely under her spell, but really it’s Hansard with whom I feel a special kindred-spirit type of connection. His eloquent descriptions of his creative process are uncannily familiar, as if we’ve been to the same place, drank from the same well, seen through the same eyes. He’s also just turned 40, and I’m mere three months from the same milestone. Part of me is looking for validation that the creative well doesn’t have to dry up as I let go of my youth. For whatever reason, I’m incredibly inspired by the two of them, and feeling grateful to have discovered them at this point in time.
In These Arms from banjo bandstand on Vimeo.