well-meaning teachers

veda hille lost it, or i lost it, but something was lost such that her last three albums don't connect with me at all. i was present for the recording of auditorium, but it lacks the resonance, as expected. it's decent, certainly, but not special enough to listen to, well.. ever. maybe twice, three times. escape songs is worse, in that it is almost purposely difficult to listen to. what songs may be there are diced up into bits and spread about, in between stretches of noise and silence. i'm still at work on return of the kildeer, and it may yet pay dividends, but it strikes me as too much, too scattered, and lacking the definition that makes her best albums so worthwhile.

the two i enjoy the most are here is a picture and field study. the former is written for emily carr, and is drawn in large part from her books and stories. the latter is full of observational lyrics, in the sense that they are often merely the singing of facts. it is constructed in two parts, one of which is, in fact, a field study of the yukon, the other a collection of songs about science and nature. of course there is subtext; the liner notes state, in bold, that really it's all about death. but the lyrics are gorgeously bare. gristle turned to backbone in the very first fish. i came out from surrey to see the first performance of field study at the east van. cultural centre on an absolute whim, which is probably why i hold the album in such esteem today. it never fails to make me very happy, and quite invigorated as well.

i am forcing myself into a habit of keeping four bottles of wine in the house at all times. we have a kitchen cart that has room for four bottles on a pseudo-wine rack, so i'm attempting to keep it full. i dearly hope that this is not a sign of impending alcoholism, but it gives me an incredible sense of security to see that rack full and tidy. i don't always want to drink it, but i like to know that i have access, at a moment's notice, to several different bottles of wine.

i'm not really that cynical an individual; i'm just an old man. i am certainly less cynical now than i was as a teenager, which bodes very well for the rest of my life. i just have a good sense of what makes me happy and conversely, what makes me unhappy, so i take very few risks in that area.

i'm not sure what to do with records that i've listened to a lot in the past, but simply can't tolerate anymore. i've kept the four pixies albums on my shelf, but haven't played any of them in at least a year, maybe two. i hadn't thought about them until someone was playing a pixies' greatest hits! at work, and it drove me crazy. i hated it. it was whiny, annoying, the guitars abrasive, the songs self-conciously 'quirky!', everything about it was intrusive and piercingly irritating. bleah. i got rid of my soul coughing records some time ago, and haven't missed them. i bet i could do the same with the pixies. it's still difficult, though. my dad still has all sorts of horrible records from his youth that he couldn't stand to hear today but has kept for their autobiographical worth. i may not want to hear an album today, but the fact that i once did enjoy it should earn that album a place in my collection. it's space that i'm concerned about, and the ideal of a streamlined collection. the thought that i can put my hand out and touch any of these albums and enjoy it. this is an ongoing dilemma, and not one that i expect to solve soon.

i claim that my writing here is just about records that i listen to, but it's obviously just like field study. really it's all about death.

this is the first entry with a title, because i didn't know how to turn on the 'title' option before today.