Now that 2015 is a few days beyond being half over, I feel like taking some time to think back on the better moments of the new music I've discovered this year. Everything on this list is a 2015 release -- I've bought older albums this year, as well as some new releases that didn't make my top 10 cut off, but these are the ones that I feel represent the best of what's new that I've been listening to this year. In no particular order:
American Beauty/American Psycho - Fall Out Boy
I understand that expressing either enthusiasm or distaste for Fall Out Boy is about ten years out of vogue now, but I didn’t follow them so much when they were peaking. I bought this in the winter, when I really needed something energetic to propel me through the coldest and ugliest days, especially in the mornings. For about a month, this album was what I would play on the way to school just to give myself a little extra kick start.
The Grand Experiment - The Neal Morse Band
It’s billed as the Neal Morse Band, but, much like any other band Neal Morse has been a part of, it’s very recognizably his album. (You either know exactly what that means or you don’t.) Every song on here is at least good, other than the ten-minute cover of “MacArthur Park,” which is just head-scratchingly odd. Still, the overall album didn’t connect with me as much as his work usually does. This will be one in coming years I’ll dig out from time to time and have a lot to rediscover.
Dope Machines - The Airborne Toxic Event
This gets the nod as the weirdest marketing effort. “Dope Machines” has an uncharacteristically electronic-driven sound, and was released at the same time as a surprise album from the band, “Songs of God and Whiskey,” that is far more acoustic. Two very different albums, both with high and low points, but the I think the high points on this one are better. Plus the other one was originally only available for download from the band’s website, and as a package deal with “Dope Machines,” which I’d already gotten from iTunes and wasn’t about to pay for twice.
Hand Cannot Erase - Steven Wilson
While I’m still holding out hope that someday Porcupine Tree will reform and release a proper album of new music as a band, having new Steven Wilson to listen to is almost as good. There are moments on here that are poppier than usual for him, though there’s still plenty of music that’s ambiently progressive and quite a bit darker. Not a cheerful album by any means, but a great one for when you’re in the proper mood.
Toto XIV - Toto
I won’t say much about this since I already wrote a whole post about it not long ago. But after that post I saw a two and a half hour long Toto concert on Palladia, and was impressed enough to get this back out and give it a few more chances. I still think most of the world will never know it exists, but that doesn’t keep it from being a well-made album. Even if I still hate the soft-jazz feel to parts of “Chinatown.”
Live from the Woods - Needtobreathe
This is the best kind of live album. You get just as many album tracks as you do “hits.” Many of the songs, while still being recognizable when compared to their original versions, have been changed or added to in ways that take advantage of the live performance. The singer has enough stage banter (maybe even a little too much, since some moments stretch into being speeches) to show a connection to the audience. The songwriting and the musicianship of the band is well represented here. This will safely be one of my favorites of the year.
Wilder Mind - Mumford and Sons
I’ve already posted about this one as well. In the time since then, the album has grown on me considerably. Even though it has very little connection to the musical stylings of their earlier albums, it’s still a strong and emotional album all on its own. I really like it.
At Your Service - Sammy Hagar and the Circle
This was a surprise when I saw it turn on up iTunes. The band is made up of Sammy, Michael Anthony (formerly of Van Halen), Jason Bonham, a journeyman rock drummer who’s father was John Bonham of Led Zeppelin, and some guitarist I’ve never heard of before who plays well enough to get the job done. It’s a live album that chronicles the different eras of Sammy’s career with some Led Zeppelin covers thrown in. Nothing new or revealing here, but it’s a great classic rock sounding album to put on for some noisy background music.
The Desired Effect - Brandon Flowers
I was looking forward to this since I really enjoyed the last album by his band, The Killers. This is more pop and dance music than rock, but it still has enough of what I enjoy about The Killers to make it worthwhile.
Drones - Muse
This is a good throwback to Muse being more of a rock band while relying less on showy electronic effects. I think it’s one of their stronger albums overall; usually a Muse album will have one or two or three, or sometimes four, songs on it that just don’t work. This isn’t entirely a surprise since they're so heavily influenced by Queen, and having a few oddly subpar songs on each album was almost a Queen trademark. The album is also vaguely conceptual, and since most concept albums are not based around happier themes, there’s a darkness to it that doesn’t necessarily match up to the openness of summertime for me. I think this will be one for me to like well enough now on the surface, and develop more of an appreciation for later on.
And that takes care of the first half of the year. While I'm anxious to see what's still on the way in 2015, this gives me a lot to listen to and enjoy for now.
Saturday, July 4, 2015
Saturday, June 27, 2015
The Revision Process, or Getting Emily in Shape
Writing a blog post about revising almost feels like I’m stalling. Why not just work on the revisions in the first place? Maybe there is a little procrastinating going on here, or maybe I’m just taking advantage of having a place where I can write all this down and clarify for myself exactly what I’m trying to do. Be warned, though: Since this post is going to be all introspective, you’re probably going to find me using the word “I” with an assaulting frequency.
My big project for the summer is to revise my manuscript The Ghost of Lake Emily, for those of you who know it. Revising is a tricky process, and it doesn’t happen overnight. I’m on summer break now though, so I can devote the kind of time to the work that it deserves. Because it is work. It is hard work. And it takes time. A lot of time. And a lot of thought, and a lot of energy.
Think of it like this: When a sculptor begins working on a piece, they first figure out how much clay they’re going to need, then roughly mold that beginning mound into the approximate shape of what they plan on creating. This is what a first draft is like for a writer. Drafting a story is usually just getting words and ideas on paper so there’s something to work with. Revision is when the writer takes that clay and meticulously fine-tunes the necessary details to make it into the piece of art they envision. Revision is where I am with Emily right now, even though I've already revised it three or four times in the past.
I usually revise in steps. First I think a lot about the story, and, in this case, the notes I got about it from my agent. Like, for weeks. I took a class on art instruction as an undergrad education content course, and still remember how preoccupied the professor seemed to be about tapping into the divergent mind. That I remember this now is a good thing. I’ve found it can be a valuable tool to let ideas percolate, since that can lead to more ideas I’d never anticipate, and usually at the least opportune moments. Thank goodness for the Notes app on my iPhone, which is much more convenient than carrying around a tiny notebook or a pocketful of Post-It Notes with scribbled bits of shorthand I’m lucky to remember later.
When these stray ideas start coming together in a meaningful way, I’ll sit down with the original draft and take it apart, creating and renaming several new files to keep track of what kind of progress I’m making, one chapter, one page, one paragraph, one line at a time. I’ll use the comments feature to insert notes about things I’ll want to address later, usually filling up the side margin with so many notes they almost look like one continuous yellow bar, with comments like, “better phrasing,” “establish how tall this kid is,” “more realistic dialogue,” “Expand on this,” “Make the stakes more clear,” “Maybe the date doesn’t need to be so important?” “This sucks, fix it,” “establish him as a know-it-all, and not shy about it,” “she needs to make more allusions here -- creepier,” “move this line to the beginning of the paragraph,” “this is why you have to age them down,” “less/better imagery here,” “Have him nerd it up more in this little soliloquy,” and so on, basically taking dictation from my internal monologue as I figure out what changes need to be made. Do I focus on the positive? Hardly ever, unless I find something that really works. When that happens, my comments usually amount to “Do this more,” and I’ll remember what it means. If something works, I know it works, and taking the time to be self-congratulatory about it won’t help much.
After all of the considerable preparation is finally done and I’m struggling to contain myself anymore -- seriously, it’s like trying to hold in a sneeze -- I’ll finally start with the writing, and the editing, and rewriting. This is the hard part, and, to be honest, it’s harder now than it ever was before. In the olden days when I was sitting down and writing stories to amuse myself, I didn’t have to work to the same professional standard that I do now. This beginning stage sees a lot of bad writing, a lot of reading other books to activate the writing part of my brain, a lot of long walks to increase the oxygen flow and give the divergent thought a chance to work, along with a lot of second guessing and self-doubt. I know where I want the story to go, but I also know all too well how much hard work needs to be done to get there. I’m perfectly willing to do as many revision passes as are needed to make the story into the best it can be, but of course I’d rather get it closer to right in the fewest number of tries.
Luckily I’ve done this long enough to know that things will eventually come together, and those moments when the flow state kicks in and things come fast and smoothly are great exhilarating fun. But at this point...well, maybe I’ll go spend some time with the book I’m reading these days. Because I want to activate by brain, not because I’m procrastinating...yeah, that’s it....
My big project for the summer is to revise my manuscript The Ghost of Lake Emily, for those of you who know it. Revising is a tricky process, and it doesn’t happen overnight. I’m on summer break now though, so I can devote the kind of time to the work that it deserves. Because it is work. It is hard work. And it takes time. A lot of time. And a lot of thought, and a lot of energy.
Think of it like this: When a sculptor begins working on a piece, they first figure out how much clay they’re going to need, then roughly mold that beginning mound into the approximate shape of what they plan on creating. This is what a first draft is like for a writer. Drafting a story is usually just getting words and ideas on paper so there’s something to work with. Revision is when the writer takes that clay and meticulously fine-tunes the necessary details to make it into the piece of art they envision. Revision is where I am with Emily right now, even though I've already revised it three or four times in the past.
I usually revise in steps. First I think a lot about the story, and, in this case, the notes I got about it from my agent. Like, for weeks. I took a class on art instruction as an undergrad education content course, and still remember how preoccupied the professor seemed to be about tapping into the divergent mind. That I remember this now is a good thing. I’ve found it can be a valuable tool to let ideas percolate, since that can lead to more ideas I’d never anticipate, and usually at the least opportune moments. Thank goodness for the Notes app on my iPhone, which is much more convenient than carrying around a tiny notebook or a pocketful of Post-It Notes with scribbled bits of shorthand I’m lucky to remember later.
When these stray ideas start coming together in a meaningful way, I’ll sit down with the original draft and take it apart, creating and renaming several new files to keep track of what kind of progress I’m making, one chapter, one page, one paragraph, one line at a time. I’ll use the comments feature to insert notes about things I’ll want to address later, usually filling up the side margin with so many notes they almost look like one continuous yellow bar, with comments like, “better phrasing,” “establish how tall this kid is,” “more realistic dialogue,” “Expand on this,” “Make the stakes more clear,” “Maybe the date doesn’t need to be so important?” “This sucks, fix it,” “establish him as a know-it-all, and not shy about it,” “she needs to make more allusions here -- creepier,” “move this line to the beginning of the paragraph,” “this is why you have to age them down,” “less/better imagery here,” “Have him nerd it up more in this little soliloquy,” and so on, basically taking dictation from my internal monologue as I figure out what changes need to be made. Do I focus on the positive? Hardly ever, unless I find something that really works. When that happens, my comments usually amount to “Do this more,” and I’ll remember what it means. If something works, I know it works, and taking the time to be self-congratulatory about it won’t help much.
After all of the considerable preparation is finally done and I’m struggling to contain myself anymore -- seriously, it’s like trying to hold in a sneeze -- I’ll finally start with the writing, and the editing, and rewriting. This is the hard part, and, to be honest, it’s harder now than it ever was before. In the olden days when I was sitting down and writing stories to amuse myself, I didn’t have to work to the same professional standard that I do now. This beginning stage sees a lot of bad writing, a lot of reading other books to activate the writing part of my brain, a lot of long walks to increase the oxygen flow and give the divergent thought a chance to work, along with a lot of second guessing and self-doubt. I know where I want the story to go, but I also know all too well how much hard work needs to be done to get there. I’m perfectly willing to do as many revision passes as are needed to make the story into the best it can be, but of course I’d rather get it closer to right in the fewest number of tries.
Luckily I’ve done this long enough to know that things will eventually come together, and those moments when the flow state kicks in and things come fast and smoothly are great exhilarating fun. But at this point...well, maybe I’ll go spend some time with the book I’m reading these days. Because I want to activate by brain, not because I’m procrastinating...yeah, that’s it....
Monday, June 22, 2015
The Longest Day of the Year
This past Sunday was the Summer Solstice, or the day of the year with the longest stretch of daylight between the sunrise and sunset. It’s no secret I have a certain distaste for many things about winter (the month of January, specifically, being at the top of that list) so when I saw the forecast for the first day of summer was predicting a warm and sunny day, I decided to enjoy it.
Morning
Unless it's pouring rain outside, I’m in the habit of getting out for a two-mile walk first thing in the morning. Not wanting to miss any of this longest day, I actually set my alarm to make sure I was awake for the sunrise and didn’t miss a minute of daylight. By 5:30 I was dressed in yesterday’s clothes (still in good enough shape for walking) and outside early enough to witness the rising sun. It was comfortably cool and incredibly quiet at that time on a Sunday morning; I think I only saw or heard one car the entire time I was out. By the time I was finishing the fifth of my six laps through the neighborhood, I could feel the sweat starting to form on my back as the morning cool was giving way to the warmth of the morning sun. It was clearly going to be a hot day, and I was perfectly okay in knowing that.
The Sunday paper still hadn’t been delivered by the time I made it back to my house, but I found it outside the front door after I had cleaned up and changed. I pulled every blind and opened every window, letting the sunlight and the summer breeze fill the house as I ate breakfast, read the newspaper, and knocked off the Sudoku puzzle.
Afternoon
Even as the day continued heating up, I left the windows open and the air conditioning off, instead deciding to celebrate the sweaty temperatures being here instead of the days when dressing beneath three heavy layers is necessary for survival. I took the book I’m reading outside and sat in the shade, enjoying even more of the breeze.
It was Father’s Day yesterday, so my family planned to get together and go out to lunch. The parents showed up at my house a little early. My father picked through the newspaper, my mother fired up the Kuerig, and I checked the late morning news to see if the forecasted weather would hold for the day. By the time I found out that it would, my father had settled back into the sofa for a quick nap and my mother was digging through the books kept in my nice and breezy sun room to decide which she was going to borrow.
When we arrived at the restaurant, my sister and two of her sons already had a table, and thankfully it was beside a large window with lots of sun. By the time we left, the the temperature inside of my car had fallen victim to the automotive greenhouse effect that can be so prevalent in summer. I reflexively winced at the heat as I climbed in, but remembered the horrible January air which could be cold and painful enough to close schools. I paused to enjoy a few seconds of the lung-baking heat before rolling down the windows in favor of the air conditioning.
Evening
The heat became unavoidable by dinner time, so I finally relented and closed the windows in favor of the air conditioning, knowing I’d need it running later if I were to have any chance of sleeping that night. Nephew #2 had a baseball game that evening, and going to watch him play seemed like a perfect thing to do on the first day of summer. I painted myself with enough sunblock to fill a pair of shot glasses, made sure the DVR was set to record the first episode of the new season of “True Detective,” and was on my way. Even though the air was on in the house, I still kept the windows down in the car, with the radio on just loud enough for me to hear it over the rushing wind and traffic. On the trip to the ball fields I heard both “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince and “Danger Zone” by Kenny Loggins, and for the briefest of moments felt like I was in high school again.
At first I sat with my sister in the folding chairs she brought, facing directly into the setting sun. I gave up my chair for my mother when my parents arrived, and went join a teacher I work with up in the bleachers. We talked about my nephew, her son on the opposite team, our plans for the summer, and caught up on the tiny bit of school news that had occurred since vacation had started about a week and a half earlier.
The game was very one-sided and ended early. When I got home and set my phone on the kitchen counter, I looked at the time (9:03) and realized that in terms of daylight, the longest day had just come to an end. I thought about stepping back outside to read some more in the fading light, but by then the mosquitoes were beginning to assert their dominance so I thought the better of it. Besides, I was feeling that pre-5:30 wake up time by then. Instead I settled in for the night, turned on my reading lamp and got through a few more chapters before the news came on. After hearing warnings of the summer storms that would be arriving early the next morning, I figured my longest day had been long enough and went to bed.
After all, even though the minutes of daylight would be on the decline starting the very next day, there was still an entire summer ahead to enjoy. And sometimes going to bed early and sleeping in late can be an important part of enjoying summer.
Morning
Unless it's pouring rain outside, I’m in the habit of getting out for a two-mile walk first thing in the morning. Not wanting to miss any of this longest day, I actually set my alarm to make sure I was awake for the sunrise and didn’t miss a minute of daylight. By 5:30 I was dressed in yesterday’s clothes (still in good enough shape for walking) and outside early enough to witness the rising sun. It was comfortably cool and incredibly quiet at that time on a Sunday morning; I think I only saw or heard one car the entire time I was out. By the time I was finishing the fifth of my six laps through the neighborhood, I could feel the sweat starting to form on my back as the morning cool was giving way to the warmth of the morning sun. It was clearly going to be a hot day, and I was perfectly okay in knowing that.
The Sunday paper still hadn’t been delivered by the time I made it back to my house, but I found it outside the front door after I had cleaned up and changed. I pulled every blind and opened every window, letting the sunlight and the summer breeze fill the house as I ate breakfast, read the newspaper, and knocked off the Sudoku puzzle.
Afternoon
Even as the day continued heating up, I left the windows open and the air conditioning off, instead deciding to celebrate the sweaty temperatures being here instead of the days when dressing beneath three heavy layers is necessary for survival. I took the book I’m reading outside and sat in the shade, enjoying even more of the breeze.
It was Father’s Day yesterday, so my family planned to get together and go out to lunch. The parents showed up at my house a little early. My father picked through the newspaper, my mother fired up the Kuerig, and I checked the late morning news to see if the forecasted weather would hold for the day. By the time I found out that it would, my father had settled back into the sofa for a quick nap and my mother was digging through the books kept in my nice and breezy sun room to decide which she was going to borrow.
When we arrived at the restaurant, my sister and two of her sons already had a table, and thankfully it was beside a large window with lots of sun. By the time we left, the the temperature inside of my car had fallen victim to the automotive greenhouse effect that can be so prevalent in summer. I reflexively winced at the heat as I climbed in, but remembered the horrible January air which could be cold and painful enough to close schools. I paused to enjoy a few seconds of the lung-baking heat before rolling down the windows in favor of the air conditioning.
Evening
The heat became unavoidable by dinner time, so I finally relented and closed the windows in favor of the air conditioning, knowing I’d need it running later if I were to have any chance of sleeping that night. Nephew #2 had a baseball game that evening, and going to watch him play seemed like a perfect thing to do on the first day of summer. I painted myself with enough sunblock to fill a pair of shot glasses, made sure the DVR was set to record the first episode of the new season of “True Detective,” and was on my way. Even though the air was on in the house, I still kept the windows down in the car, with the radio on just loud enough for me to hear it over the rushing wind and traffic. On the trip to the ball fields I heard both “Let’s Go Crazy” by Prince and “Danger Zone” by Kenny Loggins, and for the briefest of moments felt like I was in high school again.
At first I sat with my sister in the folding chairs she brought, facing directly into the setting sun. I gave up my chair for my mother when my parents arrived, and went join a teacher I work with up in the bleachers. We talked about my nephew, her son on the opposite team, our plans for the summer, and caught up on the tiny bit of school news that had occurred since vacation had started about a week and a half earlier.
The game was very one-sided and ended early. When I got home and set my phone on the kitchen counter, I looked at the time (9:03) and realized that in terms of daylight, the longest day had just come to an end. I thought about stepping back outside to read some more in the fading light, but by then the mosquitoes were beginning to assert their dominance so I thought the better of it. Besides, I was feeling that pre-5:30 wake up time by then. Instead I settled in for the night, turned on my reading lamp and got through a few more chapters before the news came on. After hearing warnings of the summer storms that would be arriving early the next morning, I figured my longest day had been long enough and went to bed.
After all, even though the minutes of daylight would be on the decline starting the very next day, there was still an entire summer ahead to enjoy. And sometimes going to bed early and sleeping in late can be an important part of enjoying summer.
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