Hopping in Puddles

Quite an apt title, considering how the weather has been here. Let me paint you a picture: If we tweaked the story of the Wizard of Oz to have torrential rain instead of a tornado and to be set in North Queensland, rather than Kansas, we would definitely not be in Cairns(as) anymore, Toto.

Today, rainy like every other rain freaking soaked day, was an indoor day. I woke up late, felt like crap (I’m pregnant, remember?), had a nap and then watched some night time TV. This isn’t habit for me, oh no. Mum and I have become quite crafty as of late! When we’re not painting the town red, we’re making things to pretty it up! For example, Mum made a sock monkey (which she insists is a cow, I don’t see it). I’m so proud of her, she’s never been much for sewing.

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One of my most successful projects has been my Fox Garland. It is so cute! Mum said, “Why Foxes? They wander the streets and are dirty and tear other animals apart.” I guess she just doesn’t see what’s cute about that. Wanna see?

Cute little foxes (inspired by indiefixx), currently adorning the ‘baby nook’. Only a few more steps and it’ll be completely baby ready!

Baby's bring so many mixed emotions. I mean, I love feeling her kicking away, I love knowing that she’s there and I love knowing that I’m going to have this amazing new person in my life forever. On the other hand, the fleshy, self centred thoughts still creep in every now and then. Thoughts about getting my pre baby body back (I was SO little), hating my back pain, wanting to surgically remove my ribs etc. I love this child, and none of the afore mentioned negativity is applicable. Music? I think so.

I’m beginning to realise that the majority of this blogs content is sentimental. Bands that tie into my past, the soundtracks to my memories. I’m okay with this. Today’s flavour ties me to some dear Spanish/Italian/Greek friends.

Takk…

Sigur Ros (“Victory Rose”). A gorgeous band hailing from Iceland (a vey pretty, non-icy place). Listening to Sigur Ros feels like leaping through frosty green moors, finding secret gardens and flying to Never Land all at once. This whimsical ‘sushi-roll’ of perfection is ideal for sleeping music, driving music, inspirational music and everything else music to be quite honest. My darling little girl will hear this album and Sigur Ros’s other four releases both in and out of the womb (respectively).

Sigur Ros writes all of their songs in an Icelandic language called ‘Vonlenska’. The exception to this is the Album “( )”, in which every song is sung in a made up, almost gibberish language called ‘Hopelandic’. The fact that you can’t really understand the lyrics doesn’t really matter, as the feeling and substance of the music is still clearly conveyed. This is a dead giveaway to just HOW good the really are.

I did the unthinkable, however. I researched English translations of the lyrics. It was a scary task, discovering the unknown. I didn’t want to be disappointed. What if these seemingly perfect, porcelain skinned Ice Gods turned out to be the Eminem’s and Lil’ John’s of the Norse world?? How would I cope? I wouldn’t. Fortunately, I don’t have to worry about this, as all of their songs are just as lovely in content as they are in sound. Takk…(Thank You..) is filled with songs of fishermen, hopping in puddles and haystacks. While it is slightly annoying that they are good at SO many things, in SO many respects, I am still relieved that they are this brilliant. It means that I can sit back and treat my ears to such pretty things without using a single ounce of creativity or brain activity. I plan to immerse my small one in beautiful piano and acoustic pieces, such as the ones produced by today’s featured band, and then, as early as possible, she will commence piano lessons. I hope. She can do what she wants to do. No stage mothering here. But we can hope…

When she is born, I will take her jumping in puddles, we’ll pretend to fly through the clouds and I’ll teach her to make daisy chains. Then Sigur Ros will tie me to a more amazing part of my life. One that will never decrease in ‘amazinginity’. And for that, Takk…

American Water

This is what you’re drinking. Yuck. Come back.

I know, I know, I’ve been completely slack and slack cannot be spelled without ‘lack’, so that’s my excuse. I lack motivation, I lack time, I lack brain capacity. ..

Apparently pregnancy doesn’t just result in a baby. Oh no, that would be too easy. Along the way there will be many instances in which you would very much like to die. Your ribs will feel like they’re breaking, your lungs don’t wanna work, your brain hurts, you back hurts and anything else that possibly could, will hurt.

I suppose another lack I have is the lack of my midnight chat pal. He’s gone to Austin, which means the time difference is ridiculous and my late nights are somewhat lazier and less productive. Yeah, that’s right, blaming you. But not really.

I’ve got two albums to write about today. Make up for lost time. See, even though I haven’t been writing, I have still been playing the tunes etc.

First up, we have an album that reminds me of the time that I was living with a best friend. During this time, a dear friend came to visit, but failed to tell us. I was startled at about half ten at night when a hairy man appeared on my veranda outside my bedroom crooning the blues with his acoustic guitar. Oh Jordan.

Welcome to the sounds of The Silver Jews. A beautiful rocky, bluesy outfit from the big smoke of New York. Since forming in 1989 (year I was born, here’s your queue to feel old if you remember that), The Silver Jews released 6 LP albums and 2 EP’s. Throughout this time, David Berman remained the only constant.

My choice of album was the 1998 release of ‘American Water’.

American Water

I find Berman’s voice very soothing, like a storyteller, lulling you to sleep. I wanted to play this album to my baby because it makes me feel at home and calm, both feelings I’d love for little miss to be familiar with and seeing as we both had a very peaceful night sleep, I think it may have had some affect (the little monster loves to keep me awake).

Another thing I’d like to mention about the Silver Jews is their comical appearance in Paste Magazine’s “An Indie Rock Alphabet Book”.

Oh yes, this is a definite future addition to little darling’s book collection. Right next to “Oh! The Places You’ll Go!”

The next selection for my tiny dancer’s delicate ears was a selection of chance. Half asleep and not bothered in the slightest, I grasped for my iPhone and played a mix of the first band my finger landed on. I wasn’t too disappointed, however, as my choice was a band that has been a sentimental part of myself and my friends lives. Say hello to “As Cities Burn”.

Son, I Loved You at Your Darkest

Come Now Sleep

Hell or High Water

Some really great albums here. I particularly love ‘Come Now Sleep’, a good mixture of thought provoking lyrics/discussions and catchy guitar riffs.

“As Cities Burn” have provided quite the soundtrack for my teenage years. Many a sad night spent crying to “Son I loved you at your darkest”, many a happy car ride singing along to “This is it, this is it”. I hope my feelings of love and nostalgia for this Louisiana bred four piece have been conveyed to the small female in my womb. Their tales of family heartache, questions and proclamations to the greatness of God and their sudden progression to a softer indie rock while keeping their trademark confronting lyrical content have made them a legendary act in my eyes and the eyes of many. They have since disbanded (as of 2009), with an exiting statement with words to the effect of :

“As Cities Burn has broken up. We are happily moving on after 6 good years. Our lives and our wives have called us in different directions. Thanks to anyone who has come out to a show, had words to say, or bought a CD to help us fill the tank”

Their music will continue, in our hearts and over our speakers.

CHEESY RIGHT?

Next up on Time Life, how you can become the proud owner of the entirety of Dolly Parton’s music career. The first thirty callers from Alabama with the same first name who can recite the NRA’s pledge of allegiance will receive a bonus novelty apron!

Anyway, it is now lunchtime and pumpkin wont let me forget it. She’s a hungry lass. I have to say, at this point, I am really starting to like pregnancy. Sure sure, the concluding paragraph of this entry may be as contradictory to the first as Peanut Butter is to Jam (that’s right people, they do not compliment each, nor will they ever!), but it’s the small things that remind you that it will all be worth it in just over 3 months. You’ll smile every time she kicks, freak out if you can’t feel her moving for over an hour, look at your huge belly in the mirror and love it and always get away with wearing daggy, comfortable clothes wherever you go because, hey, you’re pregnant. Yep. It’s something I’ll never regret.

By the way, there really is an NRA pledge of allegiance. I can’t find the exact one, it’s probably something you learn after paying a ridiculous fee. But some have revisited it, however:

“I pledge allegiance to Samuel Colt - the man who made all men equal - and to the Second Amendment behind which I stand, one nation under guns, with ammo and assault rifles for all.”

Lunchtime!

P.S.

If you haven’t heard, it’s a baby girl!

Stellar iPhone quality, what else.

Everybody, Clap Your Hands!

This will be a short entry, as it is about something I was apart of. So to refrain from sound like I am tooting my own horn, I will keep it short and sweet.

The weekend just passed, I visited some of my dearest dearest friends as they (and the band that they are all in - The Middle East) prepare to start touring around the US and Europe for five months (they leave on Thursday, sadface). Being back at my home away from home made me all nostalgic and whatnot. I’ve missed them FLIPLOADS. Whilst saying our final goodbyes in the Myers-made recording studio (that man can do/make/write/create ANYTHING), I got to hear the last recordings of the four piece outfit I was once apart of before it dissipated into a collage of girlfriends, university degree’s and babies – The Forest.

The Forest was existent before the drummer and I were involved. Once a three piece comprised of three best friends, none exceeding the height of about 160cm. Things happen, it ended and then began again, this time with myself on bass and keys and my darling friend MG on skinzzzz. We were the best of friends. We did almost everything together and our practises were far from gruelling. I really miss those days.

Although life has changed, adapted and aged, these men (once boys) are still my brothers and I love them each to the bones. Anyway, the point of this explanation is my next “album” choice (if you could even call it that).

The Forest EP

This EP was recorded in a church, in a closet and in a shared brothers room. Listening to it makes me miss the close relationship our band had, miss playing music and most of all, it makes me miss the feeling of being apart of something that mattered. I played this to my baby, not because it was a bestseller or rivalled the work of Bach, but because it was apart of my journey that led me to where I am today.

Today I found an old diary full of lyrics and poems I had written around the time of The Forest and one in particular about the disbanding of The Forest. I want to include it on here because, to be frank, it gives me a giggle. Please feel free to laugh and/or groan at the lyrical content, as it was written rhyme, be covered in mozzarella and, of course, include the title of every track The Forest has ever performed (I will write these all bold like):

(Verse 1)

I was talking to you just the other day

Now it seems you’ve packed up and gone away

While staring outside at this lonely tree

I’m wondering if it could possibly be any more ‘me’

Oh Alice, Oh Love, Oh No

(Verse 2)

There once was a forest

Then sparked The Fire

And the smoke carried cinders of strong desire

To the safe of the hills all The Stallions ran

And I say you can’t leave but you think you can and I knew..

So far away from here you flew

(Bridge)

They cut down the trees and turned them into wood

And while would can be useful, I don’t think you should

(Chorus)

Because The Mistress predicted

Johnny gave us warning

When you mess with the world that you know and love

You end up facing global warming

And nobody cares about The Bears and The Ocean will boil over in a couple of years

The Grapes will all wither and die

While Ottie Olsen looks into the sky and cries

‘Halal! Halal! Halal!’

(Verse 3)

This girl Madison thinks you’re pretty neat

She doesn’t know the ground beneath your feet

Is being stolen be Mr Gravedigger

Reminding you that you’re no longer here

So come back, back Fiddly Rack back, Sing Brother, Sing Father Abraham

(Chorus)

Because The Mistress predicted

Johnny gave us warning

When you mess with the world that you know and love

You end up facing global warming

And nobody cares about The Bears and The Ocean will boil over in a couple of years

The Grapes will all wither and die

While Ottie Olsen looks into the sky and cries

‘Halal! Halal! Halal!’

(Bridge out)

And all this time that you’re away

Don’t forget about the shows we used to play

You may gain an accent and a wife

And I’ll still be here singing your Secret Life…

I think that now I have sufficiently embarrassed myself with corn/cheese worthy rhymes, I shall hit the hay. But not before letting you know that I’m not a basket case of nostalgia. These boys are my family, and YOU, my little girl, are going to have a whole gaggle of wonderful surrogate fathers. You are truly blessed.