Since the last substantial update, my first serious boss who gave me a start in my field almost 15 years ago has unexpectedly left the company; another close colleague retired earlier than planned; and the sign out in front of our old operations center building has been removed. I was too late to get a picture with the sign, but it ultimately suited me more to get one with the bare brick wall.
I wrote an email to the old acquaintance I touch base with (or who has customarily touched base with me) from time to time over the past near quarter-century. I think it was out of a weird resurgent craving to exchange words with one of the few people on the planet who along with me was around to witness a certain place in time. In my message, I was probably more unvarnished than I have ever been (which has been a developing trend over the years). I have not received a reply, and something tells me I won’t, this time.
I watched Cleo from 5 to 7 as planned, and despite having received major spoilers from a film review channel I watch regularly, it made me feel less dread about… things. It sounds absurd, but honestly, Cleo and Dune could be part of the same syllabus regarding adaptive human responses to fear.
This weekend I’ve been learning a lot about Scott Walker, the reclusive yet (in the right company) surprisingly forthcoming singer-songwriter who charted an unparalleled path from cinematic 60s pop ballads to equally cinematic apocalyptic experimental stew, influencing just about every musician I’ve ever loved up till his death in 2019. The experience is reinforcing the importance of nurturing an unmistakable individual voice, which at times can trump technical skill in my opinion.
I also bought Cat Power’s Moon Pix used for five bucks, and I think I am finally ready to appreciate how stunning it is. I am reminded I first heard Cat Power when said long-time acquaintance was on an immature but relatable V for Vendetta kick in 2006; Cat’s “I Found A Reason” was one of the songs in V’s jukebox.
As recordings go, I’ve got something a long time in the making coming out soon – it’ll be my last dabble in dirge-like stuff for the time being – and my living room performance has been all about Placebo, a band with whom I’ve had an almost 20-year relationship and whose punchy execution I’ve found often masks how straight up gorgeous their melodies are. Last weekend I revived my cover of “Space Monkey” from 2008 to help me vent some recent frustrations; but here’s something fresh I just learned that might be viewed as a companion piece. Take it as my giving myself closure when circumstances haven’t brought it about otherwise.
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