Picked Up

Picked up from my seat and plopped in a boat on the lake.

And just like that

There I was Burned and giddy

With the Nelsons

Who are part of the ever-diverging people.

It was my first and last time on the boat.

Skinny as a sardine and head over heels

and so very bright eyed.

Swiftly, moved to my desk.

Who is the lord of The Lord of the Rings?

I.

A kingdom of notes and ideas?

Here.

Held within tight confines of my room.

It was life for sure.

For how could I help but feel the

pulse of the guitar,

pull of the Almighty,

the story,

Togetherness,

The pinch of the growing foot in the ever shrinking shoe.

I read an article once called "Stop Remembering"

Scholars say the more you recall a specific memory the less truthful it becomes.

That makes me a reckless mythmaker on days like this.

Days where I am slightly out of focus

All is is strangely dim.

But who's to say that ska was wrong?

That the anthems were off?

That here is better than there?

And now I'm here.

Couldn't we just find the square root of sixty-four?

Long division?

With all the pencil smudges

The stifled sniffs and coughs

I always hoped math would enter the equation

But you break the math

You are the math

The sum and the example

Do you know of the river, dear?

The slosh and strand of crisp?

Grandeur; Variety

But you know

Feet cooling down on the bank

Here am I
Making chowder with the fruit of my labor

Shimmery scales

Sandy shells in piles on the threshing counter

Do not

Suppose I am a grizzled fisherman

Sailing indifferently through the mist

A sailor is picturesque

Not I

I just like chowder

I. I like right rain

Front rain is too wet on the toes
left rain is unpredictable
my chair is immobile and to the right
Well.
mobile and hefty
so I live on my porch with the right rain

People say they "feel" it coming
and they do.
their eyes grow grayer
their arms are breezy
and this helps
but for all their future talk, boy do they scurry

When it darkens, the uneasy drivers come out
and drive 'round and 'round collecting
kids swinging on monkey bars
and not-quite-yet-ripe tomatoes
and pet squirrels on the stoop
Wisking Away

The brave cling to the rail
wind whistling
and so are they
They call the television stations and say, "It has reached the ground!"
like spacestation moderators

The dreary affirm their dreariness behind piles of curtains

II. Then it starts
The wind chatters and churns
muddy bubbles all over the front yard
content sighs all over my town
It came, you know?

It was wet dark rain
It always is
And the frantic, sweeping droll strands from their face, are in fact relieved
It's just regular
And how marvelous regular is

They can shut the books
They can delve too far
They can bask in florescence
They can grow one thousand cattle on a hill
They can destroy a smirk

But I'd like to see them stop the rain

And when the world is covered in a ball of plastic
Father calls me
To my right rain.

It is not because I dislike you

Lackadaisical piping
and
Fifteen chapters at a time
and
Smirking in the sun
and
Windows down
and
Words like lackadaisical

And you know it

But fall and winter

You are better

And you know it.

The Suburbs: A review

There are kids everywhere. And how interesting they all are. The Arcade Fire, with their lyrical infatuation with childhood and all its innocence, has become posterboy for nostalgia. The masses watched Win and gang yell their hearts out over a trailer a movie “for the child in all of us.” Arcade Fire likes the kids. Understandably, the entire crowd thinks they relate. I was ten once! I played make believe! Lets see what The Suburbs has to say about that.

When I awoke, I knew that The Suburbs would probably be sitting in our mail slot in a few hours. So I made my way to our porch. My mind was restless. I was not necessarily excited for the album. Nervous is not the word I am looking for either. I was wary. Wary and rightly so. Funeral and Neon Bible were well…. perfect. For every indie music admirer, for everyone else, for each other, for the road, and for the kids. I had heard ‘The Suburbs’ was a departure from the other two and some negative fan reaction. No “Wake Up” and no “Keep the Car Running’. I was on pins and needles swinging back and forth on our wicker rocking chair. Dang it all, I am nervous! Then the mail-lady walked up my front steps and handed me the mail. COME ON, I got a conformation email that clearly said…! Then the package from a secret pouch. Phew.

The first ten minutes were tough for me. Tough mainly because I wasn’t really listening but picking it apart. So I started it over and calmed down a bit. You may need to do this as well. Here is what I found:

The Suburbs is not a true departure. There is the fast high ethereal guitar; there are the interesting (catchy?) piano pieces; there is sad crooning; there are violins and cellos.That being said, it has a different feel then before. It moves slowly. Its fastest point is the fastest Arcade Fire has ever moved. (Month Of May) There is less variety. And most importantly, it is personal. I do not recommend listening to this album without lyrics sheet in hand. Please give it a look. Win hits his stride. Many of tracks are revamped and darker versions of previous ideas. Instead of saying, “Man, when we were kids the world was great” it is “None of these kids are living real childhoods.” The Suburbs points to all of us in the crowd and says “Get out of your technology! Go turn off the lights!.” This idea is in no way novel but certainly relevant. Win feels for the kids. He says we are modern man and modern kids. In this way, he is more of a struggling comrade then an aloof parent.

There are some real gems in here. The title track is killer. We Used To Wait, is debatably the strongest track in the bunch. It packs a snythy, gritty punch and gives a farewell wave the big anthems (I used to wait for it. Screaming, “sing the chorus again.”) Sprawl II.
I did find it a bit unsettling how long The Suburbs was. It could be ten tracks long and say everything it does. As I get to know The Suburbs, I am sure I will become more ok with this. Still a viable complaint in my book.

Many will (have) called this a mediocre album. I understand that. I almost believe it. But there is something big here. Too big for mediocrity. This is not the album of the year and I am doubtful of its rank in Arcade Fires repertoire. But don’t give up on it. It will grow. As I sit here typing this Win is singing to me, “Hey kid, put the laptop down.” I think I will.

I look alright
I feel alright
I am alright
I am alright

I am not alright