One of the bands that I’ve seen live an embarrassing amount of times. One of the bands that forever reminds me that you can take the girl out of the suburbs, but you can’t take the suburbs out of the girl. One of those bands that feels like it really shouldn’t exist—like if you blended up Fall Out Boy with a Christian Youth Pastor.
All the parts alone add up to nothing. The lyrics don’t always make sense, grammatically. The sound doesn’t always go anywhere new. And yet, Anberlin was an amazing band.
One of the fun consequences of driving a literal grandma car that only plays audio CDs is that I’ve been digging deep into my collection from high school and college.
Cities is one of those albums.
I still remember when Cities was released. It was the year I turned 21, and I was sharing an apartment with 3 friends. I had my own room, and papered the wall with magazine cutouts. Anberlin had caught my ear with “Glass to the Arson,” and I’d heard they were releasing an album soon.
Even from the first listen, I knew I was listening to something special. Cities isn’t a concept album, but it takes you on a journey. Each song leads perfectly into the next—bookended by an intro and an exit—in a way that weaves a really great spell. There’s a mix of yell-at-the-top-of-your-lungs choruses with completely incomprehensible verses (I still can’t figure some of the words out, even after 12 years).
I’ve been listening to Cities in my car this week, and it brings back so many memories. My college crush. Warped tour. Driving at night to visit my best friend. Going to the weirdest concert I’ve ever attended, one of Anberlin’s last, full of people who never go to shows. The week I listened to “Pray Tell” on repeat during grad school.
I’m glad that Anberlin exists. I’m glad that Cities exists.
And I’m especially glad that Cities sounds just as good in 2019 as it did in 2007.
You know how some people put on music to influence their mood? Like, they want to feel happy, so they play songs that evoke happiness.
I am not one of those people.
Usually I’m the type of person who has to find the exact music that matches my mood, especially if it’s a bad one. If I try to listen to peppy music whilst in a bad mood, I descend rapidly into an ultra-bad mood.
There are, however, a few exceptions to this rule. One of those is G-Dragon and Taeyang’s “Good Boy.”
It makes no sense. This is the opposite of a song I’d usually like. It’s an absolutely stupid song (as in, “get stupid”). Repetitive beat. ‘Dudes in a club’ lyrics. Autotune.
And yet, it never fails to put me in a good mood.
Maybe it’s because the choreography perfectly matches the beat and the cadence of the lyrics.
Maybe it’s the swagger.
Maybe it’s all the weird little sound effects.
Maybe it’s because G-Dragon used one of the live performances to diss the M-net Asian Music Awards on their own broadcast.
Regardless of why, “Good Boy” can turn the day around for me. I appreciate that.
It’s a beautiful movie. I must confess to loving the “upstairs/downstairs” aesthetic, but this movie is just beyond. The clothes are gorgeous without being costumey. The camera meanders through scenes and lingers over little details. Light and shadow actually matter.
The cast is brilliant. Charles Dance is an absolute treasure.
It showcases the reality of upstairs/downstairs. While it seems like writer Julian Fellowes has dedicated his life to smearing the British aristocracy, it’s striking to me how many parallels exist between the “upstairs” folks in 1932 and the “director” folks in 2019. There’s a huge gulf between the people at the top who put their names on things and the people downstairs who do the work. In the words of Detective Stephen Fry: “I’m not interested in the servants; only people with a connection with the dead man.”
It’s subtle. Nothing is explained—it is shown. (Until the murder is solved at the end, of course. Then we get a few explanations.) This is one of those movies that I can watch multiple times and find something new each time. Some people hate this type of movie. I am not those people.
The accents are lovely. /Hi, I’m American
It’s a good reminder of just how little justice is done on this earth. Much of the time, the authorities don’t really care. People can be counted on to act in their own best interests, and true selflessness is rare.
Slow-burn melancholy romance is the best kind of romance.
It’s delightfully planned out, but executed quite naturally. Like how there are not one, but two sets of mis-matched couples—where if they paired up and swapped spouses everyone would have been a whole lot happier. So much duality, but since it’s never explained, you have to work it all out for yourself.
It’s not often that I find fictional characters that I identify with. Mary Maceachran is one of those characters.
Helen Mirren’s speech on the gift of anticipation speaks to my soul.
What gift do you think a good servant has that separates them from the others? Its the gift of anticipation. And I’m a good servant; I’m better than good, I’m the best; I’m the perfect servant. I know when they’ll be hungry, and the food is ready. I know when they’ll be tired, and the bed is turned down. I know it before they know it themselves.
And that’s it, really. It’s a movie that requires attention from the viewer—a puzzle that extends beyond the murder mystery.
Some days are below average. Maybe you have a caffeine headache. Maybe you just got started on antibiotics. Maybe there’s an extra-pushy guy trying to convince you that you should go on another date after you said you weren’t interested.
For those days, there are dog videos on YouTube.
There is something about these, where they take a rescue dog who’s in bad shape and love them and heal them, that just speaks to my suburban-raised, earnest little heart.
Really tho, I appreciate the time and effort that it takes to rehab these dogs—mostly because it’s something that I’m not suited for. The first and last time I volunteered at an animal shelter….well, let’s just say that I’m not good with dogs who aren’t friends.
Even though they’re dogs, seeing stories like these illustrates how important your health is, and how long the healing process can take. Dogs that look older than their chronological years—dogs with no energy—dogs who are sad—they all have a chance to feel better, to run and play and be happy.
It just takes time, and healing. In healing there is hope.
It’s not often I’ll admit in public that I like this band, but I’ll make an exception for a 9/11 post.
My Chemical Romance is a band that was born on 9/11. Not the lineup or even the concept, but the emotion that was driving Gerard Way through the whole thing:
“I didn’t see the planes hit. I did see the buildings go down, from I’d say fairly close. It was like being in a science fiction film or some kind of disaster film—it was exactly that kind of feeling. You didn’t believe it. You felt like you were in Independence Day. It made no sense. Your brain couldn’t process it. And for me it was a little different. I’m very empathetic and I’m kind of a conduit emotionally, so I pick up a lot of stuff in that way. There was about three- or four-hundred people around me—and I was right at the edge. All these people behind me, they all had friends and family in those buildings. I didn’t. So when that first building went, it was like an A-bomb went off. It was like just this emotion and it made you nauseous.”
The thing about MCR is that their sound so perfectly encapsulates a certain feeling, and articulates it in a way that makes sense. I’m sure there were a few kids who were drawn into a dark path from their music, but for the most part people started listening to them because MCR accurately represented how they felt.
This was the first song that Gerard Way wrote for MCR, btw:
Steel corpses stretch out
Towards an ending sun, scorched and black
It reaches in and tears your flesh apart
As ice cold hands rip into your heart
That’s if you’ve still got one life left
Inside that cave you call a chest
And after seeing what we saw
Can we still reclaim our innocence?
And if the world needs something better
Let’s give them one more reason, now
The weird mix of innocence and gore that twists through all MCR songs was there at the beginning.
9/11 wasn’t the only thing that influenced Gerard Way. It was just the catalyst. He was into horror movies and comic books, one of those weird hulky goth kids in high school. Horror pop music (or “kiddie emo” according to the music snobs) was a natural fit for someone with his emotional sensibilities and dramatic flair. And he took that flair to the extreme.
There are a lot of things surrounding MCR that you can take issue with, but sincerity is not one of them.
The reason that I posit that MCR is a 9/11 band is because of this song:
It was one of the lead songs from their last full album. I listened to it for a weekend solid (no lie). At this point. Gerard Way is married, has a kid, kicked alcoholism and has written and recorded an album that failed to capture the “emotion” that MCR’s first three albums did.
This album was more like a message to the future, like what he would tell his daughter as she grew up.
Anyway, the lyrics go:
Where, where will we stand?
When all the lights go out
Across these city streets
Where were you when
All of the embers fell
I still remember there
Covered in ash
Covered in glass
Covered in all my friends
I still
Think of the bombs they built
His hope is in his daughter, in the children of the future…but it’s still hope.*
Between these two bookends lies the bulk of MCR’s career. Much like fiction, there’s the inciting incident, and the epilogue. The turn at the end that shows that the emotional journey is over–the true end of the story.
MCR’s last album, Danger Days, isn’t quite like the other albums. It’s still story-driven, like an auditory comic book, but this time the story is cartoonish, full of color and energy. When you listen to “The Only Hope for Me is You,” you know why.
At some point, Gerard ran out of on-brand stories to tell. The darkness that had been driving with him fell away.
We all have points in our lives that change everything, especially regarding death and destruction. Mine came a few years later, when I was in college, but I can only imagine what it would be like to be even mildly empathetic or intuitive and be around NYC that day. I can understand why someone would react like this.
Overactive imaginations R us.
*That’s not to say there wasn’t hope in any of MCR’s other albums. Bruh have you listened to “Famous Last Words“?
It’s rough, but I love this track of Mark and Taeyong from the NCT crew.
I have a fondness for the young, rough, unrefined bits in an artist’s career–when you can just see the first tendrils of talent unfolding but still being explored.
SM Entertainment has made a concerted effort to develop their rap talent, and has taken that seriously in pushing Mark and Taeyong (and I guess now Lucas) to develop and grow.
You can tell that this is a “challenge” song–somebody tasked them to write a song about what makes them angry. Young Nickel Creek used to record a lot of songs from these types of challenges, and I love how transparent they are.
For all its rough edges, I love this verse from Mark:
When I’m in the house, guess what happens at the end it
always turns out to be empty and demolished (I killed it)
I eventually always end up standing at the center of it
Always energetic still clenching a damn mic in my fist now (how)
Could this be possible? Am I that powerful?
Guess that’s why rumors around the world are saying that
“Mark is absolutely fully capable”
No more rules, just dial my number
If you’re ready to have your house blown
It me. I don’t rap, but I know this feeling. I know this capability. I know this bewilderment.
If I worked as hard as Mark Lee, I could make some things happen too.
There are some people in this world that I vehemently disagree with on the answers to our problems, but who articulate the problems of modern life so acutely and truthfully that I can’t help but love them.
Bobby Darling and Nic Newsham are two of those people. Formerly of Gatsby’s American Dream (Volcano is hands down one of my favorite albums of all time), they teamed back up a few years ago to spit out some new music as The Money Pit.
And of course it’s beautiful.
One of my greatest musical regrets is not seeing their live show because I had a job interview the next day. I really wanted to hear the intro to “Lawrence, Kansas” in person.
The same malaise that drives much of the alt-right is reflected in these lyrics. So many of us, especially us old millennials, know that there is so much fundamentally wrong with the way that our society has grown. We can feel the impending collapse, but still get on Twitter and feed the perpetual outrage machine. We hasten our own dooms.
The music on this album is deceptively cheerful, which is one of my favorite conceits. Cheerful music with depressing lyrics. All the energy we need to face the end of the world.
Forget the politicians. The politicians are what really give you the illusion that you have freedom of choice.
Update: this appears to apply only to the downtown location.
Travel changes everything, y’all. Because that’s all I”m posting about. Travel and food.
In this case I have a purpose. I would like to express my deepest appreciation for Apollo Burger for existing a block away from my hotel.
Not only do they serve 1/3 pound burgers (really!) made out of high-quality beef, the server didn’t bat an eye when I asked for my usual. (That’s 4 patties to go in a box with a side of bacon, please.)
Not only do they serve breakfast, but when I ordered their biggest breakfast without hashbrowns or cheese, they made up for it by giving me an extra egg and some extra bacon.
Not only is their store impeccably clean and stylish, but their service is fast.
The food is freeking delicious, too. Even cold, the burgers are juicy. There’s just the right amount of char on them from the grill, but they’re not overdone at all. And the size is so satisfying.
And, my usual is roundabouts $10. That’s cheaper than Burgerville, and I owe them an appreciation post as well.
Okay, friends. It’s time. I’ve noticed that I’ve slipped into negative thought patterns again. Negative thoughts are not what I want guiding my life, so when they start to crowd out the positive ones, I want to take action.
And that action is this: forcing myself to appreciate the good things in my life.
A gratitude post, if you will.
» Long talks with a new friend about the Orthodox church. I cannot tell you how relieving it is to talk with someone from a similar background who understands my struggles and can tell me how she dealt with similar things. (A mentor!)
» Finding William Davis’ book Undoctored. I want this book to be the physician view of what I’ve personally gone through on my health journey over the past few years, and I’m excited to read what he has to say. Wheat Belly was an influential book in my diet explorations, and helped explain so many of my horrible detox symptoms when I quit wheat. My only complaint is it took me a YEAR to learn that this book existed! It was published last May!
» Peones. They are one of the most beautiful flowers on God’s green earth, and when I look up from my laptop, I get to stare at a vase overflowing with peones. I’m so thankful that I live near a cutting garden where you can go and have the pick of any flowers I want.
» EXO’s Forever.
» This will probably mean nothing to those of you who don’t have access to my analytics (which is…everybody), but it so heartening to see this blog pick up in traffic. Certainly I have a long way to go in content, presentation, and promotion before Batfort is worthy of major traffic, but I’m enjoying the steady-ish increase. Organic views for May 2018 surpassed all of December 2017, which had a spike of views from Twitter to a specific post. I’ve had better months in between then, but I find it immensely satisfying when a slow-and-steady month nets more views than a wait-until-the-hero-at-the-end month.
I want to escape into a misty forest at dawn and run toward the light that spills through the trees. I want to cloak myself in velvet and swim into a glittering nebula. I want to discover the truth of God and the universe.
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