The Book of Nine Balls Ch. 3: Prodigal Prose

In the previous installment: Our hero faced another blow of frustration as he faced the gruesome reality of underachievement. His nemesis, the Industry, has left him wanting - their paltry offerings fall short of reaching a fair distance for the investment of time. Even in the face of their trechery, the hero moves onto his next quest...

* You may have noticed by this time from my ramblings, if not this one then perhaps from one of my previous exercises in brilliant, topical social commentary, that I have a particular writing style. I can be eloquent, yet engaging...clever, yet consummate...tangential, yet topical. I wish I could say the same for any number of music critics. I have been reading a fair amount of publications about the current music environment, specifically Rolling Stone. Firstly, I read because...well, it's free; Nikki had some points that she had to spend on magazine subscriptions. A lot of unnecessary exposition later...we get the magazine now. Secondly, I have felt disconnected from my ex (that being music - we are kinda in a complicated place lately) so this has allowed me to she what she's been up to without directly dealing with her shit unless I decide to. And I must confess, I have found Rolling Stone to be both interesting and informative, until... *bows head, placing his thumb and index finger on either side of his nose as he shakes his head slowly in negation* I read the reviews.

I understand that the music audience is a collection of intelligent, artistic personalities. I also understand that many journalists are stronger writers than the general public. BUT, what is the point of using language that is not...well...useful? I can appreciate the use of metaphor, simile, and other comparative, descriptive devices, but there are limits of applicability. Half of the time, I have no clue what the hell the critic is talking about; even more often, I forget that they are trying - no, let me clarify trying - to describe an album. Not quite sure what I mean? Let me give you an example: I read a review recently of Over the Years and Through the Woods, the latest album from Queens of the Stone Age that had this exact quote...

"...fourteen songs...that jam together sunbaked psychedelia, winding metal riffs and elegantly wasted vocals."

Let us take a moment to reflect upon this... *takes a sip of his libation, leans back in his comfortable reclining chair, crosses his right leg perpendicular to his left, and strokes his shaggy chin, pondering...meditating...* Let me start off by saying that I do consider myself to be a learned man, a member of the academic community. Hence, I know what words mean; if I do not, and sometimes I do not - I know where to go in order to familiarize myself with new vocabulary. Additionally, I understand the creative process and its results - the clever, deliberate pairing of words, subtext, sarcasm, paradox...I see that you understand this. Ignoring what I believe is a typographical error (the printed review has "psychedelia" as opposed to "psychedelica"), I must be honest with all of you - I have no fucking idea what this person is trying to convey. I feel as clueless reading this sentence as I do reading Toni Morrison (I do not have anything against Ms. Morrison - I just don't understand a damn thing the woman is writing about). Let me translate this as I read it: The songs combine a laid-back, carefree vibe; strong guitar elements that are loud, powerful, and intense with fluctuations in tone; and concise, grateful lyrical content that is unnecessary and pointless. Did anyone else come up with this? *looks around the room, searching for someone else who got "B" for number 16* Now that we have collectively decided what the sentence means in less "flowery" terms, now we must devise how these words apply. You know what...my rant here is getting lengthy, so much so that I may have to split this into multiple installments like Kill Bill. Let's cut to the finale...those words mean nothing to me when I am trying to decide if I am interested in an album. Admittedly it is more descriptive than saying "it's loud and fast and hard but in a gentle way." However, that doesn't mean that it's describing the album in question. Simply...it doesn't apply; the words need to fit the situation. I am all for eloquence, but let's be realistic. I have listened to Queens of the Stone Age before; never ONCE did I think "sunbaked psychedelica." Shit - I have never thought laid-back when listening to QotSA. I think...oh, I don't know...metal: hard, cold, strong, heavy, imposing - words that reflect characteristics of, like, M-E-T-A-L. So that is what I would tell you if I were writing the review or just telling you about it. But obviously I lack the artistic vision to be able to express the subtle nuance of symphonic guitar composition, rife with cathartic rhythmic percussion. But maybe it's just me.

Still going...

The Book of Nine Balls Ch. 2: Premature Muzaculation

In Chapter 1: The Arctic Monkeys inspired deep introspection of the English language, and our hero laments a prior era when the melodious sound of the planet challenged his own stamina. And our hero continues with the next chapter in his tale...

* And speaking of A.D.D., what is the deal with CDs that are 30 minutes long? They want me to rush out to the store on Tuesday morning, breathless and excited, and grab my copy of TRL's latest darling pretty band with catchy, albeit socially irrelevant hooks (oooooohh, they're pretty...but SOOOOOO edgy!) that is waiting on the shelf for me, not a speck of dust to have sullied its cellophane wrapper...clinging seductively to its slender form like Lindsay Lohan's jeans contorting to Beyonce's bootyliciousness. I then saunter up to the cashier, covetously, as I hand over my hard-earned $14.58; I dash out of the store and peel away the plastic with my lips and fingertips, removing the most visual barrier that separates me from my seductive mistress. Slowly...erotically...deliciously. *shudders and exhales slowly* If the plastic wrapping is the allegorical equivalent to low-rise jeans and a retro ringer baby T, then that slender sticky band of adhesive is the matching Vicki S. bra and thong set, in burgundy *yum...*, that teases my senses by being slightly visible, causing my eyes to fixate lecherously, when the light and angle are right. With the confidence and smooth skill of a husky Thomas Crown, I peel away the last inhibition keeping me from an interlude that is best kept to amuse myself in the late, lonely hours of my vivid imagination. I'm in my own palace of joy - I do not bother at this point with paying heed to the minutiae. Slipping it in, nervously, I confess - suddenly dizzy; a blur of motion as we spin like a vortex of excitement and liberated passion. Each successive round, one after the next after the next - I'd swear time accelerates exponentially with each successive aural stimulation. To quote Tori Amos, "...with these little earthquakes..." the world moves in hypersonic velocity, finalizing into one singular, pulsating, omnipotent, ballistic frozen moment of... *a gasp...followed by smoldering anger, gradual in force, foolishly believing the mask of confusion deceives all* ...disappointment. I ask the question men have dreaded for eons, if not longer, "...Is that it?" A 30-minute tryst? That's it...this is what I have spent my hard-earned money on? Not to mention the couple of hours of OT wasted to get that hard-earned money. They must think that I like waking up at 6am to trek out to Staten Island - have YOU ever had the joy of sitting on the BQE waiting as you literally feel your life force seeping out of your pores?

All I get for all the flirting, the suggestion...is a mere pittance of pleasure - over before it has begun. Where are the CDs to ravish my mind, body, and soul for an hour? Some... *blushing* ...even a little longer. *sighs* I want something a bit more substantial than a 30-minute tease of music. I want to be transported to places I have never seen or thought existed. I want to feel my sternum rattle with bass that brazenly challenges my own heartbeat for dominion of my body. For anywhere from $10-$18, you have got to last longer than 30 minutes. I want to feel like I am getting something for my money...other than ripped off.

But alas...our hero shall press on in search of that which he seeks...

The Book of Nine Balls Ch. 1: Cold Monkeys & A.D.D.

I did some thinking the other day. Yeah...I'm prone to doing that from time to time, especially when I am bored and developing a serious buzz from gasoline fumes (one day, I'll explain that one to you - let's just say that some would consider that a perk of the job. And for the record, those same people are probably mere brain cells away from earning the nickname "Rain Man"). And, crafted in my own special fashion, the thoughts appear random to the untrained eye; but since I have been trained in secret ritualistic monasteries in uncharted realms of this planet, I have the perception and vision to see beyond the surface of supposed coincidences. The fact that I thought them up helps, I will admit, however.

* While listening to the Arctic Monkeys, I had an unusual thought: based solely on my knowledge of the English language, its form, its structure, and the meanings of several word units, both individual and combined, am I alone in concluding that the word antarctic seems as though it should mean the opposite of arctic?

* Speaking of music...I'd like to share something with you. I have unearthed an interesting phenomenon that appears to be permeating the music scene. I must confess...this scares me, although I do not know why. Nevertheless...songs are ending. No really - what happened to songs that just faded out? Every song now seems to just come to a stop. Does the band think that it is doing us a favor? By just ending the song, do they feel that they are freeing us to indulge in some other activity that we have wanted to do and would have done if that damn song didn't get in the way? "Hey man, sorry for holding you up; we'll just cut this song off so you can get back to folding the laundry. Thanks for listening. Buy the album! *silence* *more silence* Umm, dude...sorry to bother you again, but can you tell us somewhere to eat around here?" I miss the "Livin' on a Prayer" fade outs. It gave me hope that we really were halfway there. And as a heterosexual male, I will confess to you right now...I would have taken Jon's hand cause we would have made it; I swear. That's just it...the emotional impact would have been stunted if Bon Jovi had just decided to end the song. Don't misunderstand - some songs are actually enhanced by the cessation; I consider Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me" to be a shining example. I just have been noticing that almost all of the modern songs, even the ones clogging the toilet we call radio, just end. No echoing refrains or lingering hooks. I have a theory - I think it is the fault of A.D.D. Maybe the musicians think that people don't have the attention span for songs that fade out. Maybe they're right.

Believe me, this is just the beginning...

"For you are in Elysium..."

Welcome...to the Elysian Fields. I have so named this place in hopes of making a paradise for all who enjoy the many strata of media and wish to commune with those of like mind and spirit. In mythology, the Elysian Fields are a place where the heroic come to rest in peace and eternal bliss, a much owed reward for their valor and honor in the waking realm. This definition, however, has been washed away by the sweeping currents of the ocean we call time.

So has time eroded the landscape - so shall the waters of the sea replenish the land with a new interpretation. In the current era, these fields represent a multi-tiered utopia; this is not my Zion solely. I open the gates to all who wish to join and share in the ardor of song, literature, cinema, art, electronic entertainment, and whatever else stirs us to reaction. And this is a community of peace and harmony; while differences in taste and opinion are inevitable, never shall this become a dwelling corrupted by animosity. We are all entitled to our differences...and we are entitled to share those differences with respect and care for one another's perspective. I ask that we all tame our tongues so that our mutual passions may continue unrestrained.

I am, for those who know me not before this time, D. Kage. I answer to many names; here in the virtual universe, I known primarily as Kage. I have no issue with this abbreviation. I am honoured to have you be a part of this experience. This moment...this place...and this eventual journey...has been the culmination of a lot of dreams. Thank you in advance for helping me transcend from fantasy to fruition. Please - look around; find a location that suits your comfort. And let us begin. For as spoken by Maximus Decimus Meridius...

"What we do in life...echoes in eternity..."

Baby's got a new crib!

Let me be the first to welcome you to my newly acquired domain. Please...step in and make yourself comfortable. Might I interest you in a refreshing beverage? *walks over to the bar and pours himself an Amaretto on the rocks with a lime wedge...sipping it casually* I know that I feel a bit more refreshed...

I guess I can explain why we are all here. I realized that I enjoyed reading the musings of others; I naturally, and egotistically I will admit, assumed that others would enjoy reading my own observations, my unique perspective on the unfolding drama that we all participate in. My blogging virginity was lost on MySpace. I listened to my dear friend and colleague Shay tell me what she found annoying about most blogs - they were mundane. She felt no pressing desire to read about the routine tripe that most people wrote about in their blogs. You spent another day tracking figurines on eBay...not purchasing anything? *sigh* Having sampled from a seemingly infinite selection of blog possibilities on MySpace, I found the blogs that deterred Shay from reading. But I also found blogs that were refreshing, hilarious, introspective. I wanted to be a part of that community. Fast forward a few months and here we all are...taking in my new pad - enjoying the company of one another. So let this serve as my introduction to a housewarming. Have a seat...and let's share some time together.