July 2008
Henrik Jose / Unreleased 2007 Tracks

It’d been easily over a decade since I’d owned flip-flops. “Fuck flip-flops,” you would hear me say. Summer was fully upon us and, as I lumbered up and down our basement stairs in my hastily-fashioned sneakers, sockless, to do laundry, I realized there must be a better way. “Get some flip-flops,” Katie said. The suggestion hit me in a way I hadn’t anticipated, as I completely — and surprisingly — lacked reservation to the idea. “I will. I will purchase flip-flops,” I declared. Later that day, I did just that, along with making the further declaration that I refused to wear them outside of my immediate homestead surroundings, at very most.

The following Saturday morning — the kind where you wake up, don’t shower, and walk outside to buy shallots and fresh ginger (to ultimately be faced with a wall of dense humidity) — I broke my rule and, for the first time ever, hiked the considerable distance to the supermarket in my newly acquired flip-flops. I felt lame as shit, naturally, wearing flip-flops (”Oh, look at me, my feet make sounds”), but my self-consciousness was overshadowed by the also newly-acquired Henrik Jose tracks I’d downloaded the previous evening and was listening to for the first time that morning. I’d loved Henrik’s work as Bliss and his beautiful vocal contributions to ST’s “People I Barely Know,” so to learn of his free, unreleased offerings on his site was a truly welcome surprise. He has a definite focus on the melodic and well-produced, which I am a perennial seeker-of.

En route home, having purchased my aforementioned shallots, ginger, and even some fresh bagels for breakfast — the sidewalks still empty of the usual bootleg DVD and junk vendors — I rounded out the last of the six or seven tracks right as I approached my front door. Taking off my flip-flops, I noticed a distinct burning sensation on the tops of my feet. Within minutes, due to my flip-flop abuse, I was cursing the abandonment of my original declaration to only use the confounded footwear locally and was now paying the price. As I toasted the bagels, however, I tossed-on the same Henrik Jose tracks I’d just listened to — feet burning, profanity flowing — and still managed a quite reasonable summer morning.

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March 2008
Coppice Halifax / “1983″ / Expanding Electronic Diversity

Perhaps the most emotionally jarring and poignant musical memory recollected here, I’d spontaneously come above-ground on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn — following a two-hour train ride back from visiting family in Connecticut, en route back to my apartment — to find a voicemail on my phone from our veterinarian. A couple weeks prior, our beloved, rescued amputee rabbit, Rabbi T., had passed away somewhat suddenly. The voicemail stated that Rabbi’s cremated remains had arrived from the facility they used for, well, the process, and as I walked through the rain, the oddity of an overcast Atlantic Ave. — its Salvation Army, assisted living apartments, and expansive laundromats all adding to that particularly poetic, downtown Brooklyn gloom — I felt a nagging emotional swell. Moments later, having already paid the veterinarian’s office in advance (a strategic move to avoid potentially awkward interaction amidst a thankfully absent emotional rejoinder) I walked back in the same direction from whence I came, self-consciously carrying a brown paper bag festooning a tasteful black ribbon, inside of which was, wrapped, a tin containing the remains of Rabbi.

My arrival at home was met with a padded envelope wedged into my mailbox from Expanding Electronic Diversity. As I sorted through the complex emotional response — no tears, but a lot of rumination — Coppice Halifax overtook the ominous silence. Even today, as the slow drums make their appearance on “Beach Glass,” I always remember that afternoon and the dense low-end, cavernous sound that seemed to accompany it all so well.

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October 2008
Benoit Pioulard / “Temper” / Kranky

I’d been an immense fan — immense — of Benoit Pioulard’s previous releases and thus was more than thrilled to, in a fit of continued fascination with “Precis,” discover that he’d only the day before (10/13/2008) released “Temper,” his newest on Kranky. Without hesitation, I’d purchased and was downloading the batch of MP3’s. The initial listen was, well, difficult to describe. I remember sitting on my living room floor with Katie and making comments following every few tracks. Was it just because I’d spent so much time with “Precis” that nothing would live up to it? I felt a tad disappointed, honestly, or perhaps just complacent with what I was hearing. I was so desperate for new material, however, that I knew I’d come back to it just out of loyalty to the sound. By the time the record played out, however, I forgot about it for the next couple of days. And then, well, I got married and went to Spain.

Whilst careening up the side of a mountain — Katie driving, our shoddy FM modulator losing reception frequently, causing whatever music was played to be absolutely awash with Spanish radio static — that I let “Temper” play out again for the second time. My reaction was similar, but perhaps more strongly worded given the unfortunate and frustrating reception problem. It wasn’t until weeks later that I, whilst walking down the street in Brooklyn, started randomly humming an unknown vocal melody that seemed to ultimately take control of my brain for that and subsequent days. Upon the eventual discovery that I’d been under the spell of “Brown Bess,” perhaps one of the most defining moments of “Temper,” I immediately found myself obsessed with the album and its melodic evolution from his previous works. All previous opinions had been revoked. A beautiful record, a beautiful song.

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October 2008
Helios / “Caesura” / Type Records

A memory that is brief but quite resonant: Sitting alone in my apartment on the day of the wedding. Suit hanging from the door molding awaiting my departure to the city to meet up with my family and eventually Katie and everyone else. A batch of advance MP3’s comprising the new Helios, “Caesura.” I turned-up the speakers extremely loud and realized the gravity of the events that were about to transpire less than a couple hours later, the planning of which had completely dominated our lives for almost a year. What would life be like after this? What will it be like to relax again and no longer think of details? My stomach was still in knots, but the beautifully melodic, percussive presence was an emotional comfort to say the least.

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October 2008
Michna / “Magic Monday” / Ghostly International

A few years back at a Cylob show at the now non-existant Rothko, my friend Jason introduced me to Adrian, whom he met from frequenting Etherea Records in the East Village. We chatted for a few minutes. “Do you make any music?” I inquired. “Yeah,” he replied. “I release music as Secret Frequency Crew.” At first, given the volume, I completely missed that. The registration of those words about thirty seconds later forced me to interrupt our conversation, which had moved on to something else. “Wait — did you say Secret Frequency Crew?”

“Forest of the Echo Downs” (on Schematic) was, around the time of its release in 2004 (and probably still to this day, honestly) of my favorite electronic records — and I let him know as much. We’d run into him a couple of other random times, either at DJ gigs or otherwise, and he was always an interesting, friendly dude. The years following “Forest of the Echo Downs,” I’d occasionally search for — as you do with any artist you appreciate, if you actually follow music in that fashion — any word of upcoming releases, and naturally, as soon as I heard news of Adrian’s solo release as Michna (his surname) on Ghostly, I made it a point to grab it. As I listened for the first time on my big Sony headphones, simultaneously cutting a stack of rail board with an x-acto blade, I would literally let out an audible laugh at times when his fucking awesome, almost trademark production (if you know his stuff) would get into the brilliant, similarly eclectic moments I’d loved on “Forest of the Echo Downs.” The interspersed field recordings and snippets of street conversations (“Ahh, is that how you have that kinda Uzbekistan kinda look to ya?”) just add to the depth, as does the live trombone and turntable swipes. I just regard the whole album as a sort of vindication of my statement that Adrian Michna is one of the best things going for electronic music these days.

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December 2008
Signaldrift / “Compass” / Wobblyhead

An older record — released in 2003, actually, on Wobblyhead — my friend Brian had recounted to me a recent, “religiously good experience” with this album “Compass” by Signaldrift. Having never heard of it, despite knowing several of the other Wobblyhead releases (and really enjoying their focus), I sought it out. On Katie’s birthday (Christmas Eve), following a seemingly mediocre Park Slope Thai experience, we returned to our apartment to spontaneously cut out paper snowflakes and finish off a bottle of shiraz. The chilled-out mood of the evening hanging in the balance, I wouldn’t normally opt to toss on something that I hadn’t given a go prior — but given Brian’s specific, weighty descriptor of “religiously good,” I took the recommendation to heart. The record evolves beautifully across an amazing gamut of electronic styles and ultimately compels without forcing you to crack glow sticks or otherwise. I now spend my days and nights trying to figure out just how in the hell I missed this release in the first place; ultimately, I’m just glad I found it.

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September 2008
The Tuss / “Rushup Edge” / Rephlex

Regardless of all the Richard D. James mythology (which, for the record, I completely buy into) surrounding The Tuss, I’d obtained and quickly overlooked “Rushup Edge” around the time of its release last year. It wasn’t until late September, as I was sorting my somewhat obtuse MP3 collection, that I recalled purchasing the tracks from Bleep (given the strong urging by Boomkat and, well, everyone) and, thusly, began my weekday afternoon delve into easily the most twisted piece of electronic chicanery in recent memory. My focus on the tasks at hand was broken — splintered — and I got completely lost in the record. At times, I found myself laughing hysterically — principally during the 6+ minute [aptly-titled] “Death Fuck” — and I’d look toward my front windows, imagining passersby staring in and wondering just what in the hell was so funny.

The next day, I enthusiastically introduced my friend and co-worker Tim to “Rushup Edge.” I built it up, which is something I’ll rarely do. I actually built it up a lot. We then proceeded to spend the next 32 minutes and 43 seconds, simultaneously listening, sending emails back-and-forth — screen shots of where we were in the album, profanity-laden outbursts, everything; it was fucking manic. That ultimately began days’ worth of multiple listens and the aforementioned, almost-made-ritual email barrages, wherein it almost became requisite that if he was listening, I should be listening, too, and most of the time I didn’t hesitate to partake.

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October 2008
Cornelius / “Sensuous” and “Point” LPs / Warner Bros. Japan

In what was no doubt one of the kindest gestures I’ve ever experienced, a group of good friends got together and planned a trip in celebration of my then-upcoming wedding. They’d rented a large house in the middle of nowhere in Upstate New York with a massive, sprawling deck overlooking a field of tall grass and, in the distance, a wall of dense, turning foliage. The traffic was non-existent, so if you just stayed quiet for a couple seconds, you’d suddenly be able to pick-up the sound of a far-off stream. Our collective energy was intensely positive, without question, and it got even more positive as soon as I’d discovered the hearty stereo set-up in the living room. From that point onward, we’d graduated from a usually quite genius iPod boom box to a full-blown stereo, flanked by a slew of iPods loaded with a wide gamut of music that would be well-utilized over the next couple of days. The absence of neighbors meant we could be as loud as we saw fit.

The first night was quite epic. My friend Tim and I (see previous The Tuss / “Rushup Edge” recollection) ventured into the pitch-black night to explore the rural road and our surroundings, at which point the music shifted, courtesy of Chris, to a mix of Cornelius’ “Sensuous” and “Point” records. The volume being as it was — and the house a veritable “chalet,” almost forcing the sound outward even more than usual, somehow — the music, even from hundreds of feet away, was clear and filtered through a wide-open ambience. I’d told Tim a million times over the melodic genius of Cornelius, but this made the kid a true believer. While neither of the albums were new to me, they sounded new. We just stood there, staring at the house in sheer amazement of the sound it was making.

“Happy Holidays,” as they say.

On Katie’s birthday two nights back, we sat around in a marvelously sluggish red wine-induced stupor toiling over a stack of origami paper snowflakes. “Let’s make paper snowflakes,” we said. I tossed on the [criminally overlooked] Signaldrift album “Compass.” Later on we played a game of rummy. 

Much has transpired since our last communiqué – even more [!] than the aforementioned – and it always seems like this time of the year brings with it equal parts brilliant social ebullience and a lethargic malaise. Priding myself on a certain degree of productivity, I always take to the first weeks of winter with a steadfast refusal to accept the holidays as an obstruction in my creative output at work and at home. Naturally, I am perpetually let down by the reality of the situation. “Winter,” I scoff. “Fuckin’ winter. Total bullshit.”

Brooklyn gets awfully claustrophobic, no question, and the usually productive evenings give way to, well, holidays and, ultimately, there’s always one thing that you imagined you’d have done by the end of the year that sticks in your craw. Since we all live differently, not everyone will relate to this (and I imagine more still will manifest their own version of this into a “resolution” or the like, which I’m not too terribly fond of), but those who can relate – those who can’t not have projects, steady output, etc. – know what I’m talking about. Maybe you’re taking on too much. Perhaps ultimately you’re doing 112% what you’re capable of, which is really quite brilliant, but this time around you tried for 117%. All these arbitrary percentages add up to one simple fact: I’m typing about this. Clearly it’s on my mind. I’m just letting vent a slight [slight?] overwhelm that comes when you stack the holidays atop everyday life.

A couple weeks ago I joined a gym. I didn’t join it because I’m overweight or because I made a resolution to do such, I just did it because I wanted a productive outlet that I could obsess over that wasn’t a creative endeavor. I’m healthy and I want to stay healthy, goddamnit. So far it’s been pretty amazing. I listen to Drive Like Jehu and do cardio and shit.

I’ve been toiling over music, too. I committed to two separate things – both quite out of the ordinary, for me – and the first, an ambient release, is complete and I’m really proud of it. The second is the thing that I’m sad to have not yet completed. It’s perhaps because I’ve never made music that someone was willing to commit to vinyl (which seems strangely more permanent and official than that which is committed to a compact disc) that I’m being so reluctant. Or perhaps the mood of winter is too foreboding? I’m not certain, but I’m really looking forward to that feeling of satisfaction that comes from the completion of something you’ve been toiling over. Seeing a finished product is always the ultimate reward.

Ultimately, as 2008 draws to a close, I state here, for the record, that this has been the greatest year of my life. The peaks have afforded vistas previously unimaginable and the valleys have no doubt been dank, dismal places. The dynamism is what we crave, right? That’s what we seek as humans? I’ll correlate that aforementioned, unfinished project with life itself – the stress of not producing something you will accept and that frustration that comes of it eventually yielding the brilliant resolve of consummation. By the end of the bullshit it’s all completely worth it, I say.

So happy holidays. May your year close on whatever note it closes upon and the next year begin, inconsequentially, as you strive for continued happiness and productivity.

For our wedding, my now-wife Katie and I collaborated on a Bauhaus/modernist-inspired aesthetic — above are the invitation, RSVP, map, and various envelope components; not shown are our save the dates and takeaway bags containing 1″ buttons, magnets, and mint tins. The wedding was held in Central Park in Manhattan on October 18, 2008 and presided over by our good friend and neighbor Marcus. Following, an aesthetically-pleasing line of fourteen assembled pedicabs transported our close friends and family (twenty-eight attended, in total) to Candle 79 Restaurant for a vegan reception. Photos to follow.