Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun: a melt-the-snow mix

Winter is officially upon us - the snow is dusting my front lawn as I type, and my heart is constantly threatening to cease blood-flow to my toes. I figure there's nothing better than a bit of music to heat up the atmosphere and bring some life back into the frozen corners of our homes and automobiles.

Here is a mix that might aid that effort. Merry Christmas!


1. Ce Matin-La / Air
2. D.A.N.C.E. / Justice
3. Seasun / Delorean
4. New Theory / Washed Out
5. In The Morning (featuring Andi Toma) / Junior Boys
6. As Serious As Your Life / Four Tet
7. Ready 2 Wear / Felix Da Housecat
8. Transformers (Ghosthustler Remix) / Futurecop!
9. All My Friends / LCD Soundsystem
10. Hello Jenn, I'm A Mess / Evangelicals
11. Fragile / God Is An Astronaut
12. No Comply / Studio
13. Baptism / Crystal Castles
14. Up, Up, Down, Down, L, R, L, R / Truckasauras
15. Windowdipper / Jib Kidder
16. A Paw In My Face / The Field
17. Don't Save Us From The Flames / M83
18. Flim / Aphex Twin

Download the full mix here.

Favorite Albums of 2010

20. KORT
Invariable Heartache

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19. Sam Amidon
I See The Sign

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18. Kanye West
My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

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17. The Black Keys
Brothers

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16. Janelle Monae
The ArchAndroid

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15. Laura Veirs
July Flame

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14. Tame Impala
Innerspeaker

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13. Cotton Jones
Tall Hours in the Glowstream

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12. Wild Nothing
Gemini

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11. Flying Lotus
Cosmogramma

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10. Beach House
Teen Dream

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9. Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy & the Cairo Gang
The Wonder Show of the World

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8. Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti
Before Today

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7. Deerhunter
Halcyon Digest

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6. Sam Quinn
The Fake That Sunk A Thousand Ships

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5. Arcade Fire
The Suburbs

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4. Joanna Newsom
Have One On Me

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3. The National
High Violet

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2. Sufjan Stevens
Age Of Adz

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1. LCD Soundsystem
This Is Happening

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WILD MOUNTAIN THYME: an autumn mix

There are plenty of reasons to hate Fall. All the swimming pools are closing, school is beginning, things are dying, and winter is coming. But the general mood and overall spirit of the season make it my favorite time of year. It is a season of remembrance.

So here is a digi-mix for those who enjoy sustaining the color of autumn with some tunes. Enjoy!


1. Been So Long / Vetiver
2. Graceland (Paul Simon cover) / The Tallest Man On Earth
3. Spanish Pipedream (John Prine cover) / The Avett Brothers
4. Ol' Man River (cover of the Show Boat tune) / The Beach Boys
5. Sweet Black Magic / Ryan Adams
6. Jens Lekman's Farewell Song To Rocky Dennis / Jens Lekman
7. 1979 (Smashing Pumpkins cover) / HoneyHoney
8. Salvador Sanchez (Acoustic) / Sun Kil Moon
9. Thirteen (Big Star cover) / Wilco
10. Crayon Angels / Judee Sill
11. Sally Goodin / Heron
12. Saro (Traditional) / Samamidon
13. Dump The Dog / Loudon Wainwright III
14. Toboggan / Breathe Owl Breathe
15. Les Champs-Élysées / Joe Dassin
16. Into The Mystic / Van Morrison
17. Ooh La La / The Faces
18. Roll On Babe (Derrol Adams cover) / Ronnie Lane & Slim Chance
19. Buffalo / Mountain Man
20. Back to Tennessee / Christabel & The Jons
21. Walk Out / Justin Townes Earle
22. Horn / Nick Drake
23. Wild Mountain Thyme (William McPeake cover) / White Antelope
24. Communion Cups and Someone's Coat / Iron and Wine
25. The Beginner / Wheat
26. 1 John 4:16 / The Mountain Goats
27. You Should've Seen The Other Guy / Nathaniel Rateliff

Download the full mix here.

black dog, part one

Crickets rubbed their legs together somewhere in the monkey grass. The chirp always came from further away than four or five feet, for the noise stopped as soon as a large presence was felt. It really didn't matter how quietly he walked. It didn't matter if he was skinny and light and had all the little muscles in his feet trained to bend and bow and breathe in just the right rhythm. They knew he was there, not by sound, but by some other sense. It seemed the air must twinge and ripple with some force that only crickets detect. He was given away before he even knew what was in his plans.

He continued, however, to walk softly. There was no real reason to, but it was one of a few things at this point out of which he drew any measurable amount of pleasure. Unfiltered, rosy pleasure. He had, of course, learned to gain an amazing amount of perverse pleasure from other hidden things of a much more self-destructive bent, but he was not so far gone that the sweet satisfaction of moving across the earth unheard and unseen was beyond him. He still enjoyed sweeping his bare feet above the braille of the soft grass and twisted roots of the trees and the sharp ends of loose gravel in his driveway. As he moved, he wondered what the crickets were keeping secret. He wondered if their secret was as special as his own.

The shape of his car appeared. The moon wasn't glowing, but he had been in the darkness long enough and his night vision was engaged. He didn't know where he was going, but he proceeded with a specific, quiet purpose. He opened the door, threw himself in the front seat, groped for his keys in his pocket, slammed down the clutch and started the car. The top was already down and a fresh layer of midnight dew had settled inside the cabin. The steering wheel was wet, and he could feel the moist seat below him. He took in a healthy whiff of the condensation. It smelled like camping. He threw the car in gear and quietly coasted out of sight.

a new wave

Well, I've been married for over 3 months now, so I guess I should start posting on here again. I've been told many times over the past few years that I have a way with written word, but after being told several times in the past month that I really need to be doing something with it, I have begun a strict regimen of daily writing. (Not really strict, but it may become that way. Who knows?) And like most other young white men with a beard, a college degree and a laptop, I want to write the next Great American Novel... or at least the next indie novel that is made into a movie by the Coen Brothers. The fruit of those efforts will often end up on here, but not always.

our industrial wound and the salty tears of god

One of my favorite web sites is a new site called Sustainable Traditions. It gives a Christian perspective on the ideas behind the sustainable/green/environmental movement, which has seemed to really grab a hold of myself and my peers and our whole generation. This particular article sheds the first bit of light on the Gulf oil disaster that I've noticed. In the midst of argumentative talking heads, oil-covered pelicans, and a land full of thirsty automobiles, it is nice to gain some perspective.

Our Industial Wound and the Salty Tears of God
by J Fowler

I have been deeply troubled by the BP oil spill, which we should more appropriately call an oil eruption. I’m not sure the media is even free to report on the profound proportions of this incident. It is not merely an environmental catastrophe of epic scale- it is something more- and the nature of this cataclysm is yet to be seen.

This event has caused widespread emotional reactions across the country and especially in the Gulf Coast- which rightly it should. There has been grief, as images of wildlife and birds mired in thick oil have hit the media. There has been rage and calls for BP to be taken to the economic gallows and hung for it’s atrocities. There has been shock as many who depended on the Gulf for their livelihoods have in effect become servants of the cleanup, possibly never again to fish the toxic waters. There has been denial as government officials and corporate CEOs buy more time with strong words and weak-willed actions. And there has been lament- an awareness that somehow we are part of the economic-growth-obsessed suicidal system that has produced this disaster.

In the midst of all these many reactions though, I believe we have a fundamental misunderstanding as to what this event signifies. And when I say signify, I mean- what does this event mean?- what does this event say about the state of our hyper-consuming country and the industrial world- and even the position of our own uncomfortably troubled souls? It would be easy to say it signifies nothing, that it is just another terrible event- or worse- bad news that we just can’t stomach for another day. I understand this response- but I think this reaction speaks volumes of our addiction to…not oil, but…denial. We can only take so much bad news. But I’m not sure why we think we should try to insulate ourselves as much as possible from a troubled world. Sometimes I think the real folks who are in need of help are those of us trapped in our air-conditioned homes and gated communities. We have lost our ability to creatively engage, by the Holy Spirit, a sin-sick world. We are weary of having to process the ‘bad news out there’- and in reality we would rather remain a disembodied, disengaged consumer of mostly more positive ‘virtual’ experiences and information- but therein lies our brokenness (and my own included).

Despite our desire to forget the ‘bad news’ in the Gulf though, the ramifications will most likely go on for generations. This is not something that is going away anytime soon. If we are loving we will respond in whatever ways we can to help the communities most affected. If we are wise we will realize that this environmental disaster is a mirror or a window into the ways we’ve chosen to live- a lifestyle that on one end produces efficiency and convenience-an endless amount of pleasures and delights- and on the other end produces a never-ending stream of toxic waste, disease, and ecological breakdown- which multiplies social and economic crisis in the communities surrounding the exit or entry points of our production systems (near factories, factory farms, energy plants, landfills, etc). Unfortunately, the latter end is hidden from our sight behind barbed wire fences, factory walls, deceptions, and even our own bodies. We only feel the sting of the consequences when the system fails to hide the effects or when the cycle of consequence reaches maturity through events of crisis- whether through our own ill health, the destruction of God’s creation in our immediate or regional locality (and beyond), or other means.

It is crucial for us to remember that the broken BP oil well is not an anomaly in the modern world. This kind of devastation may not happen every day in the Gulf (at least not on this scale), but certainly it is undeniable by now that the fouling of our lands, waterways and air is a typical by-product of the assembly line, the power plant, of the landfill, – which in turn are the engines behind the very lifestyle we have become comfortable with and accustomed to. We are caught in a web that we have learned to love while we deny the possibility of living beyond it. After all, who would want to give up a life of comfort and ease? If there was no factory where would I get all that I need to live? If there was no power plant where would I get the electricity I need to live? If there was no factory farm where would I get the food I need to live? If there was no landfill where would I put all the trash that I produce? For most of us we have fully and willingly resigned ourselves to this fate. For others of us, our economic troubles mean we can’t live beyond the web because we’re too busy surviving- there is no time to consider long term consequence- or so we think.

What has happened in the Gulf is no mere oil spill- it is not an accident in the truest sense of the word- it is an open wound- it is the lifeblood of the Industrial Age- mixing with the salty tears of God. It is a wound we have inflicted on ourselves. It is the howling of creation as it stands betrayed by it’s caretakers. And what will be our response? What will be our course into the future? Two roads stand before us. One leads to further pain- it is paved with human pride and self-centered ingenuity. The other road is paved with humility and a crying out to God to teach us how live in His love and wisdom and abundance that surrounds us (and from there will spring our ingenuity).

Can we attain a measure of ‘societal salvation’ if we return to a pre-industrial way of life or pursue a new age of renewable energies (some of which I am for)? Is a life free of oil or electricity really more righteous or redemptive? Can carbon trading, nuclear power plants, wind farms and seas of solar panels really redeem us from our ways? The answer is no because the deeper issue is the inner destructiveness of our fragmented souls. Environmental issues are exposing our spiritual deadness before the Creator of All Things. There is but one remedy-one catalyst for true and lasting change- and that is to be first and foremost reconciled, through Jesus, with our Creator. Our future lies in humility before God and not in our Utopian dreams. From that point of reconciliation a new way of life can begin.

this way of life

I had to share the trailer for this documentary. I almost hesitate to even see it because I know it will light that dangerous fire under me that always drives me to do crazy things. Things like questioning my modern way of living.

You guys out there think you are men? Well, meet Peter....

take this bread

When Audrey and I decided to marry, we also decided that we wanted to share our marriage. Obviously, there are certain aspects of marriage that can't and shouldn't be shared. What I mean is: We wanted our marriage to be an extension of the same love that God has already extended us. We want everyone to know that we are going be okay if we know that they are okay. If we have something that you need, we hope to be able to offer it to you. You know, socialism, etc, etc.

Seriously, though, this little film was our gift to anyone who attended our wedding, but through the powers of Youtube, we can extend that offer to everyone on the face of the earth who has access to the Internet. Our goal through this was to remind everyone that we love them and that our marriage is going to be something stronger than either one of us could ever be individually. Thank God.

A huge huge thanks to my little brother for putting so much time and effort into helping me make it. I thought it up, but he executed all of it. Nicely done, Will.

PART I


PART II

jill and sam

I figure this works well enough to be my first post in a long time, and my last as a single, unmarried, free, pale, skinny man. All of these things are about to change in two days. I am going to be so tan! Yes!

Jill and Sam, formerly the everybodyfields, sang this cover of Lucinda Williams' "Something Happens When We Talk" recently, marking the first time I've heard them sing together since the break-up of their band last year. They both have new solo(ish) projects, which are great. Really, great actually. But these two voices together are like bread and butter. Coffee and chocolate. Man and Dog. Sole and trail. I can't think of a better melding of two voices than Sam Quinn and Jill Andrews. I just love it.

May 2010 from Jill Andrews on Vimeo.

Sam will be playing at The Basement tonight. My "bachelor party" will be taking place around this show, so please come down and celebrate the end of freedom with me.

I'm sick of your religion, religion, religion

Quit your worship charades.
I can't stand your trivial religious games:
Monthly conferences, weekly Sabbaths, special meetings—
meetings, meetings, meetings—I can't stand one more!
Meetings for this, meetings for that. I hate them!
You've worn me out!
I'm sick of your religion, religion, religion,
while you go right on sinning.
When you put on your next prayer-performance,
I'll be looking the other way.
No matter how long or loud or often you pray,
I'll not be listening.
And do you know why? Because you've been tearing
people to pieces, and your hands are bloody.
Go home and wash up.
Clean up your act.
Sweep your lives clean of your evil-doings
so I don't have to look at them any longer.
Say no to wrong.
Learn to do good.
Work for justice.
Help the down-and-out.
Stand up for the homeless.
Go to bat for the defenseless.

Isaiah 1:13-17 (The Message)

blind man beats zelda

This is one of the most heart-warming things I've ever seen:

life of leisure by washed out

Washed Out is Ernest Greene, a young man from Perry, Georgia. He recorded his EP, Life of Leisure, at the end of last summer, but it has been the source of my winter 2010 jams (not including "Party in the USA"). Pitchfork describes his music as "bedroom synthpop that sounds blurred and woozily evocative, like someone smeared Vaseline all over an early OMD demo tape, then stayed up all night trying to recreate what they heard." That works, I guess. I just see him as the standout artist from the recent glo-fi moment of last year.

Cold weather jam-out!

Washed Out - New Thoery


Washed Out - Feel it All Around

colonel hans landa

In one of the best acting performances in my memory, Austrian actor Christoph Waltz plays the "unplayable" part of Colonel Hans Landa in Quentin Taratino's Inglourious Basterds. Here is Waltz at the round table with Charlie Rose:

can you hear this?

When I was younger, my mom had an electric plug-in air freshener (thing-a-ma-jig) in her bathroom. When it was plugged in, it created the most hideous sound that would quickly seep out of her bathroom and into the rest of the house. Really, I could only hear it well if I was downstairs, but it was bothersome nonetheless.

One day I finally told her she had to get rid of it. That conversation went something like this:

Me: Mom, can you please trash that stupid thing?

Mom: Why?

Me: Because of that awful high pitched noise it makes when it's plugged in.

Mom: What noise?

Me: Are you kidding?

After a while of trying to explain the noise, I finally took her into her bathroom and prepared a demonstration. I took the plug-in out of the wall, and put it back in. I took it back out. I put it back in. During this, my ears were oscillating between extreme discomfort and heavenly respite. But Mom was all "Huh?"

Sigh.

It turns out that there are certain frequencies that humans can only hear up to a certain age - I think the consensus is around 25. I am 24 now, and I hope to God that on July 17, 2010, I will stop hearing this wretched frequency emitted by televisions, Glade plug-ins, and robots (probably).

So, can you still hear this frequency? Let me know in the comments!

SPEAKERS (or headphones) UP!

Frequency 451 (because that is the frequency at which the cochlea burns):

God dwells in the dirtiest places

Vice Magazine's video piece on the devastating aftermath of a series of civil wars in one of the poorest countries on earth, Liberia.

Warning: graphic content (in every form of the phrase)

why are you doing this to me?!

The cinematic scope of this series blows me away. Let's get excited for Groundhog Day:

http://thedw.us/post/365197066/lost-promo-of-the-day-during-last-nights

depressed roommate hitting the N64 pretty hard

Once again, inspired by the Onion...

NASHVILLE, TN -- Local graduate student Joseph Steiner has recently noticed his roommate spending the majority of his waking hours playing N64 in a frozen-pizza-fueled haze of depression and detachment.

"Some days I'll leave for class early in the morning, and I'll hear gun shots coming from his room," Steiner said. "Then when I get back later that afternoon he's fixing a microwave burrito. Usually I'll try to ask him how his day was, but he just acts like he's in a rush and says he can't talk because he has a Perfect Dark mission on pause."

Steiner's roommate has been known to enjoy a little multi-player action from time to time with his friends, but since December 19th of last year, he has logged 289 hours of solo play time with his beloved console, which will likely go down as one of the most deplorable records in the history of gaming.

While the sadness of his situation is clearly apparent, it has not come without its share of relative excitement. He has incredibly recovered all 100 Gold Skulltulas in The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time without using "one of those stupid walkthroughs." He has also set new time trials records on every Mario Kart 64 course except for Bowser's Castle, though he claims he will beat his old time within a few days as long as "those stupid blue block dudes will quit being so gay."

He also seemed to question the sexuality of the joystick on his yellow controller.

"It is pretty annoying that the closest thing to a conversation we've had in the past month has been an apathetic explanation of how to recover Biggoron's Sword in Zelda," Steiner confesses. "Really, the only time he hasn't seemed utterly miserable was after a trip to McKay's Used Books where he found a used copy of some lame snowboarding game. He seemed pumped about a Dion Blaster or something."

The source of his crippling depression remains unknown, but Steiner says it might have something to do with his steady diet of Totino's Pizza Rolls and the death of his pet hampster, Mr. Bojangles.

Berry on the porch

plain are the lips that catch the tears
that run from her eyes for her tongue to savor.
she tucks her boys in after all these years,
southern oak leaves now their delicate covers.

the evening before they read Berry aloud
in a swing on the porch till the dusklight subdued,
but tonight they lie shiv'ring in their cradle of ground,
any feeling of hope she solemnly eschews.

so much so that she joins them in the dust and the earth
and crawls under her blanket of southern oak leaves,
she's closing her eyes on the faces she birthed-
the keen sword of grief, quietly sheathed.

a real new year's resolution

Actually taking the commands in this poem and giving them the power of a resolution is slightly terrifying. I imagine that is exactly as it should be. These words seem to be carved deep out of the same stuff that is at the core of my identity as an American, a man, and a child of God.

May God give me the strength in 2010 to dig down deep into the stuff, scoop it out, mold it, throw it in the fire, and pull out the forged stone and display it as my Ebenezer.

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
--by Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

perdidos

A trailer for LOST season 6 that aired in Spain, complete with subtitles: