The WSHE, originally risen from the ashes of Mount Giluwe, now goes to sleep. After three years of cultural observation and reflection, the Wattled Smoky Honeyeater will now take a nap. See you soon.
Our Love,
Clay, Will, & Tyler.
I know it doesn’t really make sense, but all I can think is, “This is like if Fleet Foxes were good at basketball.”
Megafaun. Best band. (buy Heretofore)
“Headed Home” (A short I made last week on a foggy commute home)
I see this every day. After hours in an office, in front of a virtual world, it’s great to experience movement. The slow arch up over the bridge, above the water, buildings on both sides that snake along the river, obscured by mist. Down the other side of the bridge, towards home, the first stop. Details of life here and there appear to me (or the world) and then disappear. An exhale, headed home.
tUnE-yArDs - live at SXSW
What a creative person! The RAWness of the music doesn’t mask it, but actually showcases the quirky ideas that form it. This lady has a ton of charisma/ confidence/ mojo.
Enjoy.
(You can also WATCH and LISTEN here.)
Story on recent flooding in the Mississippi via NPR
This story does a great job at showcasing the stalwart character and positive perspective that people from all over the South seem to have.
Choice quotes:
In response to the Army Corp of Engineers opening the floodgates in his area:
Regarding the river’s beauty:
On how flooding makes the river basin special:
Charles Bradley- “Lovin’ You, Baby”
Live at SXSW via KEXP
—-
Nothing beats soul.
—-
Also check out “This World (is Goin’ Up in Flames)”
And a great behind the scenes bio. This guy is 62 and putting out his first album.
I met Bill Roberts last February. His band, The Red River, played at my friend Xiaotong’s house in Coventry through the powers-combined of STG and super-luck. They played a beautiful set, in the kitchen. And then we drank hot cocoa and played an epic game of SCATTeRGORIeS. (To say Bill was competitive would be putting it lightly; but then several of us were.)
In person, Bill can be seriously funny. And direct. In song, he can be clear, blue-tinted, and maybe about to crumble.
In “Blueberry Hill” Bill sings reminiscences, plain things, things I can’t quite make out and things I know I’ve done: “Now I’m driving back / I stop and get some gas / I tried to quit smoking / but I give in and get a pack.” And he sings these things in his plain voice, and also through the whole thing with this shiny voice like a silken tent above him. A robot’s voice. And yet that voice breaks and strains and felt good to be alive or maybe alone, and you believe it either way, without lingering, without doubt. Is it there just because Bill liked the way it sounded? Was it just her heart, opened up?
And of course there’s the keyboards, their swell-and-dive, their purr-and-whir every few measures, and there’s bass rumbling and shaker shaking and bells choosing “dare.” It’s a song of springing to life, and it’s so much more than it seems, and it’s exactly what I wanted to hear last winter and on into now.
(Bill writes better about this song on his blog; his most recent song, “The Pact”, is tipsy and tangerine)
(p.s. I made a mix; e-mail me if you want it)
“When I Laugh” - The Glands
Found in the comments section:
“My band and I drove down to Athens to see our friends band play. We walked around town for a bit and walked inside a few record stores. I walk inside this one near The 40 Watt Club and this beautiful song is playing, so I ask the owner who it is and he tells me that it’s actually a local band from a while ago called The Glands. I bought their vinyl and made my way out the door a very happy kid. I’m seventeen, and I love this record.”
