Entry # 60
2nd January 2012
Deaths must be died.
And lifes, by the way,
to be lived,
must be loved,
you idiot!
I wish you a very good number 12!
Entry # 59
15th December 2011
This man's taste is a feast!
Mixed by Belukha, this is the melodrama of 2011.
Give it a listen, it's worth every put down pencil and every sweaty sneaker!
LOVE & MONEY by BELUKHA
Entry # 58
6th December 2011
Warm headphones on a cold december night.
Entry # 57
26th November 2011
Entry # 56
25th August 2011
Thou shalt fight conformism
Thou shalt be the messenger of freedoms
Thou shalt make use of sex
Thou shalt reinvent life
Thou shalt create artificial art
Thou shalt have a sense of purpose
Thou shalt not know exactly what thou dost, but thou shalt do it
Thou shalt give thy love
Thou shalt grab the soul
Thou shalt give something back
Entry # 55
23th August 2011
To whom it may concern (and you know who you are):
Entry # 54
18th August 2011
Wrong questions
Entry # 53
15th August 2011
Lullabies, wordy music, sweet nonsense
I just understood the meaning of the word lullaby. It lulls you to sleep. I stumbled upon an ambient pearl a while ago.
It’s exeptional, because there’s talk. Someone speaks constantly. It’s poetry, to be precise. Flowy, watery, intuitive,
beautiful poetry. It’s a lullaby.
I have this switch- when I want to listen to the words in a song, I need to pop it, and then I can listen.
If I don’t do that, the words are just part of the music. Words are narrowing the core of the music,
because they stand for something. That’s fine, we’re storytellers, so am I. But I prefer to exclude
the content of the words from the first listening experience, in order to see what I’m dealing with.
People like The Streets, Morrissey, Elliot Smith- it took me a while to really enjoy their music
(I became a fan meanwhile), because it actually is about the words. But there are loads of artists who
should rather sing gibberish than 'actual' language, because their music is way better than their words.
Two examples, two opposites: ambient poetry, and a gorgeous nonsense rock!
Entry # 52
13th August 2011
"The sun is up I'm so happy I could scream
And there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be"
Entry # 51
3th August 2011
This is incredible beyond words. Written in the late 70's. Unbelievably beautiful!
Entry # 50
26th July 2011
No more monkey business!
Entry # 49
7th June 2011
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the futurA. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
They way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future. The way of the future.
Entry # 48
3rd June 2011
"Back to sleep, back to reality"
Always had an antenna for dream scenes in movies. Those, no matter how well shot,
seemed more real and sincere than anything else. Maybe because in dreams every little detail is blessed with meaning, just like a good story.
Here're three great pictures and three dreams:
Entry # 47
29th May 2011
Pattern-finding, just my thing.
Here are three songs with a certain similarity: each has a layer widespread over the whole song.
A stubborn layer as backdrop that doesn't change its harmonic field.
I like that. Something that doesn't change at all, no matter what's happening within the song.
Entry # 46
17th May 2011
My heart's in my hand,
and my hand is pierced,
and my hand's in the bag,
and the bag is shut,
and my heart is caught.
Jean Genet "Notre Dame des Fleurs"
Entry # 45
11th May 2011
I finally found that damn machine!
Be careful what you wish for...
Entry # 44
9th May 2011
NoTV Cribs
Entry # 43
5th May 2011
We were playing in Frankfurt the other day. One of the few proper classic urban skylines in Germany.
You enter through the main freeway, suddenly surrounded by guardian-like skyscrapers.
If you ever go there, put on this old perl of a song. One of my bandmates put it on and it was a perfect image-song-marriage.
Entry # 42
2nd May 2011
Last night
Entry # 41
27th April 2011
To whom it may concern,
I was taking acting lessons once. Well, one lesson, to be precise. A short story short:
the task for the first meeting was to prepare a monologue, around 2-3 pages. I picked a scene out of the movie „Twelve Monkeys“,
in which Brad Pitt plays the genius loonatic Jeffrey Goins, giving the new guy a tour through a mental facility.
So, the acting teacher, a sweet and delicate lady, sat down at a desk in the corner of the room, while I set myself up in the
center. For me it was an absurd and kind of awkward situation, but since I was going to see what acting’s all about,
I figured I was at the right (and only) spot to go for it. She picked up her pen, put on her glasses and a mild smile, ready to go.
So was I. I started to scream at her, throwing my fists towards her desk. „Stand up, bitch“ I carked,
and went on with my furious speech. From one second to the other, I was my own Jeffrey Goins.
I didn’t realize at first that the lady
was so shocked that she froze and went all pale. It was only when she was starting to react to my words by answering
to them, standing up all shaky, that I realized that she hadn't noticed that I had started with my monologue. It was surreal.
I was lamenting like a mad man, about how she should open her eyes and her fucking mouth and so on,
and she was completely stepping into it, sucked into
my stupid little fiction. It was only a matter of brainy seconds, but long and
busy ones. Suddenly we both found out the misunderstanding, and immediately popped back into acting class reality.
I remember thinking „so this is what it’s about then!“. I took my things and left right away.
Of course I was being simple, and sixteen. Probably a very naiv way to play down the discipline of acting. It’s like telling a haircutter to ‚get rid of it, it’s just hair!’
I could have stayed and stepped into the universe of technique and articulation and
body control and emotional leveling (which I later on even did). But I figured that you can "play" something or „be“ something, and I found that in the best case,
those two are the same thing. It is finical, of course. The membranes will be thin, and you have to be as diaphanous as a brides
haze.
I guess it’s not only a good thing to be able to be 'something' at any occasional point. Not at all. It’s a risk. Because you can also be a monster at your best friends coffee table, and then what?
Train yourselves, monsters, fucking train yourselves.
Entry # 40
26th April 2011
Entry # 39
18th April 2011
12.09 p.m.
To whom it may concern,
Write! Buckle up, sharpen your Intuition, grab your feathery balls, and write.
It is so much more important to touch people than to impress them with sophistication. Anyone can be sophisticated.
Few can actually touch. A friend who's a musician
said something very smart the other day: it isn't so important that you can play the notes you want to play, but rather more
important that you want to play the notes you can play.
So write! Open the door to Disneyland - we wanna go!
I was gonna post the original version of the song, for obvious reasons, but I found this:
Entry # 38
12th April 2011
1.31 p.m.
status: in a devil of a mood
Entry # 37
9th April 2011
9.44 p.m.
Heroes of heroes!
Entry # 36
31st March 2011
3.42 p.m.
Heavy German romanticism from the next to last century: a musical version of a poem by Joseph Eichendorff composed by Robert Schumann.
Listening to this slowly melting piece of butter is like a 5 minute vacation from a lot of noise!
Mondnacht
Es war, als hätt der Himmel
Die Erde still geküßt,
Daß sie im Blütenschimmer
Von ihm nun träumen müßt.
Die Luft ging durch die Felder,
Die Ähren wogten sacht,
Es rauschten leis die Wälder,
So sternklar war die Nacht.
Und meine Seele spannte
Weit ihre Flügel aus,
Flog durch die stillen Lande,
Als flöge sie nach Haus.
Moonlit Night
It was like Heaven's glimmer
had touched the Earth's skin
that in Her blossoms' shimmer
She had to think of Him.
The breeze was gently walking
through wheatfields near and far;
the woods were softly talking
so bright shone ev'ry star.
And thus my soul extended
its wings through skies to roam:
O'er quiet lands suspended,
my soul was flying home.
Entry # 35
17th March 2011
10.04 p.m.
The daily business: headphones on, listenning to music all day long just while doing things.
Supermarket, bicycling over bridges, morning masturbation. Sweet isolation. And then there’s clubs, going out,
dancing for hours or let the music become the magic cap for certain conversations.
But probably the most intense, special occasion for listening to music is to sit down with a bunch of friends,
and everyone’s playing their favorite songs, noone speaks, quietly listening all the way through it.
And all the noise is doggishly beckoned out the door. These songs never stop.
They’ll loop on forever. And they become wormholes waiting for their first ride.
Entry # 35
11th March 2011
10.48 a.m.
Some movie scenes I could watch over and over and over and over and over again.
This classic here goes to show how the most ordinary things like automatic phonecalls turn into life changers. Enough's enough.
Entry # 34
10th February 2011
14:27 a.m.
Meaning, Ghosts, Armpits
So, meaning, right? Don’t hang up yet, I’m not going to go too smartish about it, I was just thinking: „meaning“. If the meaning of a thing would be like a ghost that could come in, sit down for a bit and leave at any given point, what would that mean? It would certainly mean that meaning’s not connected to things out there, but to ghosts floating around like free radicals. Let me simplify-
have you ever fallen in love with someone, big time, and after two years or whenever it was over you thought
„how could I even feel anything for this piece of crap?“ And not out of denial, but because you just don’t understand how
you could have even associated love with this particular person. So back to the ghost thing, let’s assume the person was possessed by a ghost, and it wasn’t them that made you fall in love, but the ghost. And as soon as it left, there was no point in loving that person anymore, just like there’s no point in shaking an empty glove.
„I love you!“ – „I love you, too!“ (ghost might still be there)
„I love you!“ - „Oh fuck off , shithead!“ (ghost most definitly there)
„I love you!“ – „Oh, thank you!“ (no ghost at all)
Let’s furthermore assume that, what makes them ghosts come and go is directly connected to currencies in our brains.
Whatever is going on in there, in that vast field of the so called 80 % unused mud, controls them ghosts.
“Funny, I usually like blondes better, but your armpits smell like Dr. Pepper, so let’s have a go!“
Or:
„That president over there is pretty vague about everything, but his vagueness feels so much more meaningful, let’s have a go on him.“
Strange scenario, one might think. Is it? Maybe it’s the best scenario ever.
Let the ghosts take over, and everything runs its course and falls into place.
Okay, there’s a problem. Because, what would it all mean about loyalty and reliability, truthfulness,
morality, will and all those monuments - would it mean that it could all change within the blink of the eye?
„I fancy you today, but tomorrow I ‚nothing’ you, because the ghost went out for cigarettes and never came back, sorry.“
Well, so what? Things change, I wanna change, and stagnation is a bitch. But what if I don’t want things to change so fast?
In that case I can decide. I can try and make them ghosts stick around. Again, there’s a catch- it’s not only for me to decide.
Everyone has their own ghosts to shoo around, haven't they.
So back to the beginning, is meaning permanently connected to things, or is meaning connected to the brain that temporarily picks
those things, ever changing? Headache-material. I don’t really care, says the March Hare.
Because some ghosts are very old, slow and stubborn. They squeeze their fat and beautiful asses into those tight, comfortable chairs and leave long after you’re dead. Thank god!
So with you, I wonder- has the ghost sneaked out on us without me having noticed? Is the original still here or do I love a fucking blueprint? That’s the only thing I freak out about: did I listen properly, or did something escape my notice?
„Hush, my dear, just listen as good as you can“. I read the other day that our ears listen even while we’re sleeping. There you go. To listen. I can't think of anything more important in terms of who to love, what to choose and how to judge, than to carefully and quietly: listen.
Entry # 33
26th January 2011
10:10 a.m.
What does it take? says LL Cool J
Have you ever known anyone who actually changed their lives? Without tirades of big word, without soccer-escape,
just woke up and did something completely different? There’s nothing absolute, and maybe you did know somebody like that,
and maybe it was even you who did it. Done. Chewed on the endless gum, up until now, where you’re creating this enormous bubble,
in it a field of endless possibilities that equally allot once the thing pops. It is so simple, says the March Hare.
Unfortunately, or luckily,
you are also one that’s slightly fucked up. What would you prefer, to be lost or slightly fucked up? Nothing’s absolut.
Nothing gets lost here, says Hawkin.
Next door there’s Phil Collins playing on the kitchen radio. An unclever torture. Get lost. So what’s the alternative to
those unlikely
brothers? To undo. Make yourself comfy. Have a fireball, and undo.
In five minutes you’re king, and queen in eight.
Entry # 32
13th October 2010
12:53 p.m.
Here’s the soundtrack for today
Sufjan Stevens - I want to be well
This guy never really got through to me. Too much, too hippy, too thick (look who’s talking). Yesterday a friend sent me this link. She said: „Listen to it all the way through, it changes. Do it in the car, turn it up.“ After hard days in many ways, this let off my steam, big time!
Entry # 31
2nd October 2010
10:06 p.m.
I want some answers!
OK okay, I made my homework. Don't read the Wikipedia article or anything about the band. Just have it and enjoy. Sometims, stupidity is the better solution, no? Anyway, give it a go, it's FCKNGWSM!
Entry # 30
11th September 2010
7:37 p.m.
Such nights may see the opening of the jails
When through the turnkeys’ haunted dreams
Walk with hushed gales, soft screams
Of laughter those who scorn their power.
Forest! They seek your trees to sleep among,
with their long sentences hung.
Forest!
Entry # 29
4th September 2010
10:49 a.m.
Happy Birthday
Entry # 28
13th May 2010
0.13 a.m.
Who would have thought?
You know, if I look at myself, and I put on the question like sunglasses: am I happy? What can I say about it? I got a lot to say about it.
I’d say I am. I usually am optimistic about the things. If I am not drunk with doubt about anything in particular, which happens every now and then,
I am optimistic. I am not a friend of the ‚no pain no gain’ game, and I like it uphill. I can step out the door and say: this day will go exactly
like I want it to go, and it will. As a rugrat, I was fine by myself and I was smiling a lot. I could have been drugged as a 6 year old,
and I would have looked exactly like I did. Maybe I was. So yeah, I am happy. That has been my idea of it, and this idea did a good job so far.
Now, imagine you have a broken toe, blackish, ever since you can remember. It is and has been black forever, and the pain has been with you always.
Imagine that pain would suddenly be gone. You woke up one morning, you noticed something was wrong, and it was your toe, not black anymore,
and out of pain. What would you think? What would go through your head? My guess is: you couldn’t even say what it was.
You would feel that something was wrong, and then you slowly would realize that wrong and right would have changed seats, secretly over night.
Ah, THAT’S it, this is what RIGHT means. My god, who would have thought? Why didn’t anyone tell me? If I only had known, jesus,
I would have oriented my life towards the flawless rose toe!
Maybe I didn’t know about happiness after all. The other day, I saw the real thing. And the real thing isn’t about words to phrase it,
not about optimism, not about ideas at all. It isn’t about options, choices or a deep breath. It is not spiritual, not eccentric,
and absolutely not vain. It’s not clever, not proud and certainly not logical. It is in fact one, big, shrug. It is nothing, it is everything.
It is so vibrant, so awake, so breathtakingly simpel that even to talk about it is like furnishing a vacuum. Or like insulting a fresher.
Right now, I can only find one word that would describe it best, a word that has redeemed itself with an intensity that I did not expect:
‚silence’.
Who would have thought?
Entry #27
2nd July 2010
4.28 p.m.
omg, Daniel Johnston!
sometimes i wonder, and i can't stop, for how long important things can run beside me, a life long, even longer, and not manage to touch me, to open up a tiny vessel to stick some slick arm through it and tip me with a finger.
Whenever I'm touched like that, I am angry, because of the very fact I just described, and I cry, because of relaxation. There are people like you, no matter how far it gets around you. They say you can't bring anyone into that farness. So bring your ipod and your phones, and Daniel Johnston, and you'll be fine. And who knows, maybe some day, someone's tough enough to follow you there.
Entry #26
25th June 2010
08.28 p.m.
I said goodbye!
I said goodbye, I finally did. I didn|t say goodbye to a little piece of data, to a short term affair.
I said goodbye to a huge parade of ideas and images that now run its course.
So how do I feel? Lighter, sure, kind of. But it has not yet oozed into my deepest pit. Which means-
I haven't grasped it quite yet. But now it|s gone, and there's no going back, and I have been waiting for this moment
a long, long time. I'm sorry, am I being abstract here?
I am talking about my new album. And the special little something that goes with it. My god, what a tip of the iceberg.
What a wind to blow dry my 13th haircut.
This is for you! This is for the domestics, for the floors, for the naked and for the unfixed! I will see you soon!
Entry #25
19th May 2010
11.50 p.m.
Dear fellow, unfixed skaters,
MADNESS! Are you at the beginning of something important, or something scary, or mad? Are you lying awake at night, loosing teeth over lacks and loans?
Only 2 days ago, a book found me, and I wonder why the FUCK, out of all the books, this one couldn’t find me earlier. This is crazy.
These 52 pages have the potential to become a bible, an ever warm heater rib, a flag for all those who are becoming. This is so inapprehensibly important, and clear, and beautiful - you must read this book,
and be consoled, and renewed, and fresh for a lot to come:
„You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.“
Rainer Maria Rilke, „Letters to a young Poet“
Entry #24
15th May 2010
8.09 p.m.
Caribou – Swim
Found this at a local club. The Laptop-Misses played it, and it was just the kind of song that makes me stop the conversation wherever it might be at,
stand up and listen like being put under a sudden spell. A welcome spell (no conversation can be strong enough to not be killed by a song, or is it just me?).
Meanwhile found out, that it’s some Canadian, London-based electrician named Dan Snaith,
who released the album ‚swim’ few weeks ago, under the name „Caribou“. My favorite song - so far - is „Kaili“.
Give me ravy synth patterns, and a ludicrously high male voice, and a smeary estatic chorus, and some dirt all along, and I’m grateful for my life!
Entry #23
8th May 2010
12.11 p.m.
What is it that makes a concert memorable anyway?
Of all the gigs I saw, of all the people I saw play so far, only few would stick to my mind. That doesn’t mean all the other ones were bad. Actually, there were only a few really bad ones. But equally few left a resistant impression. And it’s a real mistery, what makes them turn out to be somehow special. In some cases, it was rankly unexpected. For instance José Gonzales. He played on this festival-boat. Around 200 people found seats in this little dining-hall on board. A friend
of mine, Tom (being the guy who engineered this site, and being a brilliant performer in his own right), played the support, so he got me in for free. I would never have bought a ticket for José Gonzales. I like his music, the kind of hypnotic qualitiy that it undeniably has, but I thought a gig must be really boring and predictable- pretty guy with curls singing songs of pain for the girls-kinda thing. The boat drifted off shore, you could see the movement of the nightly horizon gently pull ahead in the corner of the eye, and this very humble guy litterally sneaks up on stage, starts to play, so simple and clear, I can’t even say what happened, but it calmed me down so heavily, I had tears streaming down my face, without me even noticing it.
Another nice one: Owen Pallet, yet as Final Fantasy, just with his violin and a loop station. I was just fascinated by his talent and grandness, that was much bigger than the image of a single guy on stage. Also fantastic: Bon Iver- those guys blew me away, piling up their falsetto voices mountain-like.
Jamie Lidell also was one memorable night. He toured with his album ‚Multiply’. I swear, the WHOLE venue was dancing in extasy for 1,5 hours straight. I don’t necessarily fancy soul-rides, but this was just spot on.
Which brings me to last night. Mr. Lidell was playing downtown. It was his 3rd gig with the new record „Compass“ that’s going to be released later this month. So I collected some friends, „you gotta come it’s gonna be a ball“. I left after 45 minutes, cause I couldn’t stand it. Of course the expectations were stupidly high, no offence. But what was that? I know how you can be bored with your own tunes, trying to revitalise the songs by playing new,
supposedly fresh versions. But how could you turn „Another day“, the dance that everyone drools over, into a minimal, quiet shop-stopper? Rage! Another shot was a new song that was 'the one for all the lovers in the house’. I’m not sure what the name was, but it was just the most barefaced slow jam pale prince stereo type of a sex ballad one could ever be encased with. FUCK. I’m sorry, standing in flat waters clamouring around, but FUCK! You can’t do that, can you?!
There you go: don't give me cake when I ask for bread... And ok, I haven't heard the new album, and will do that with seperated eagerness.
A good moment though was his beatbox-rave that he pulled off without his band. An unbeatable discipline right there. A remarkable moment however was the drummer playing an instrument never seen before, a woodblock hanging around his neck with rubber pads loaded with electronic grime-wise beats that he worked so adorably, so sexy, my jaw hung loose like a pigs head not being properly chopped off.
Would I go see him again? Yeah, of course. Because one has to honour the risk that was being taken, without a doubt, and simply because this mans' voice stays a very lonely pin on the map.
Entry #22
1st May 2010
1.25 p.m.
They're heeere..
When I was a kid, I found a video hidden in some drawer at my parents house. They never cared much about movies, especially not for this kind of
meat salad. But for some reason,
that one was there, patiently waiting years for me to discover it. I watched it and I was shocked for life. Not because it's a shocking movie, but because
what this girl is experiencing was pretty much the same I was at that time. I woke up at night, seeing the most amazing, terrifying things.
I was awake, my bodily functions were awake, but I mixed up the so called reality with things from my dreams.
Kids can't be woken up from that delicate state. Parents need to wait it out until the kid decides to come back.
Parents are even advised to do what the haunted tells them to do, in order to calm them down and accelerate the process. So I ordered my
family to glue gemstones to my face, or to get the bike and tuck it in bed with me. One night I screamed at them in fever, commanding them to skip the house
in order to escape the bulldozer that was tearing it down. Not sure how that night ended. Anyway, Poltergeist was pretty much a visual blueprint of that phenomenon, and so watching
it completely relaxed me.
About a year ago, it sort of came back (which is possible) in shape of a guy standing on the sill in the middle of the night, like he was waiting
for someone.
I was paralyzed,
staring at him, but this time around with the fascination of an adult observer. The real scary thing however was the fact,
that my window was gaping wide open the next morning. I never leave it open for sleeping, nor can the window be reached from the outside.
I don't even dare to think about what that could mean.
Entry #21
27th April 2010
4.00 p.m.
Yeasayer - Rome
A friend put this one on a mixtape that she made for my birthday. Thanks again N., one of the best tapes I ever got..
Anyway I chose this song for today, because it's shooting through my head like an unclasped baloon. Yesterday I was driving out of the urban cages
into the wide open to go running, listening to that song over & over again on my headphones. So is it any good? Yeah I like it.
The odd solo synth lines that sound like a casio keyboard kind of open some door to my childhood. Can't figure out what it is. Which is okay. We're
not only what we know we are, but we're also what we don't know. There we go with platitudes again- I better stop, or else..
Good day, sprinters!
Entry #20
23rd April 2010
9.21 p.m.
That's the reason why I love popmusic, why I decided to devote my very life to this subject. Because it's a tool, one you can use
for so many things. Just like an allround domestic appliance. There is a song for every occasion.
And as soon as you find the equivalent to what's eating you within a song, and you listen to it, you can calm down and relax.
Nothing more to it. Nothing less. Synchronicity.
Entry #19
20th April 2010
9.44 p.m.
To whom it may concern (and you know who you are),
in the deepest pit of my being, I'm probably the most apolitical person there could possibly be.
I guess politics means the art of dealing with all this indifferent, half baked, toothed and unbalanceable shit.
An art that's impossible to master. Yet many feel commissioned to. However, at some point you'll find yourself
standing in the middle of this noisy and
tedious construction site. And you're being forced to join in, or at least to stand in the middle of parties.
And then they start to talk: a weird cocktail of balancing out points of attraction, of throwing rotten eggs and of sticking dicks
into asses until the stitched fall silent in relief. So what can you do?
There's two ways. You can decide to play, if you're fresh enough. You can dance, you can look good, comb your beard and come up with some really
nice phrasing. Basically, you can do whatever you can to assure your commitment.
The other way: since you're being the observer, you verbalize your observations, pure, unfiltered. Which is kind of a personal joke.
In that case, you might strike just the right chord to
make everyone flourish in dedicated contempt for you and/or admire you so blindly it hurts. Sometimes, I just can't decide between the one way or the other.
In which case the only thing to do is to shut up. To SHUT UP! And listen to the traffic.
Entry #18
19th April 2010
10.40 a.m.
This is a song from Matthew Herberts new album "One One", which is part of the One-triology that shall unfold within the next months.
This here is called "Berlin", which I immediatly liked best. Maybe because that one's making it easy for me - give me an intimate voice that sounds
like a teenager singing alone at night, under the bed sheets, add soothing watery electronics with no beat at all, and I'm all yours. However, it's beautiful.
It breathes, like an attourney working late in a big building in Berlin, or a huge parking lot at night. The whole album is so far from what I expected,
can't quite wrap my head around it. Give it time, one says..
Entry #17
18th April 2010
3.15 a.m.
Hit 'Play' before you start.
Hard week, let's do something. I need to get rid of some broken bones. When shall we meet? How about 9 at the Suderman Pl. Sorry I'm late, were you warm? Yeah, don't worry.
To walk. To laugh. Let's get in there. King George. I like that one. But the music's always a bit low. Don't matter. What's your poison? Whisky. Sambucca. Fucking hippy. Damn pussy. Smile.
Who's the cutest boy? The prettiest girl? The employees better than the guests, has it always been like this? People are kinda old around here, don't you think? Do you mind? Dunno. Let's go.
To walk. To laugh. To mute. To chew. To try to hit the garbage can. If garbage cans were gates, would you hop in? To hesitate. A goodnight smoke? Sure, there's a bench. To sit. To almost fall asleep. Guys pissing close to us, the illusion of summer garden fountains, nice. It's almost summer. I almost love you.
Entry #16
14th April 2010
10.24 p.m.
Winter is gone, the dishes are done, and it's about to walk from me. Beauties and spring break erections. Please stay with me, I can't do it by myself!
Entry #15
13th April 2010
7.58 p.m.
To whom it may concern (and you know who you are),
why don't you for once try not to conserve your facial features? At a party, at a meeting, in the streets, that's what you do,
a l l o f t h e t i m e. Did someone ever tell you that?
Why don't you drop that mimic, and let it hang down low.
You know, beware! There'll always be someone that will notice.
Someone that can read the paperwork on your desk.
You're right, most of them don't see it. Stuck up bitches. Or People who love you (too much).
But that one guy in the corner will notice, trust me.
I'm one of those, I suppose. I see the energy you have to pump into holding up the flag of aplomb. I see it and it makes me sweat.
Drop it, will ya? Please. I wanna see you drop it, in public. Standing in a crowd, loosing it. What an image. What a rain.
Be the asshole, or the Saartje Baartman, for fucking once. You'll see, it's the warmest rifle you'll ever get shot with!
And then, when noone smiles, when noone got game, and everyone goes mad, I'll be smiling. A broad grin, and 2 open arms.
Entry #14
10th April 2010
11.55 a.m.
Speaking means awareness. What happens if you talk about something that you haven't really wrapped your head around yet? It probably comes out weird, wrong, or just funny. Imagine big stuff. Loose storms that won't let you do the dishes.
How can you even dare to talk about the big stuff? Can't you rely on the languages beyond the words? Why can't you? Scared? I don't get it. As if words, sad syllables organized upon a 5 inch string, would own the exclusive rights to reliability. Moving further into something, to finally get somewhere, means to actually talk about it? What's first, the talking or the getting? They both dance together, you say. In the best case.
Well, would you dance in public if you knew you look like a staccato spasm?
Or like a skyscraper standing in line at the supermarket, trying to hold its position? Yes you would. It's the only way. I know. Sometimes, I just don't like the ways. How would you like it if I danced you what's in my mind? Would you ever talk to me again? About what?
Entry #13
6th April 2010
2.47 p.m.
We had a felicitous gig last night. Sound, food, people -save. We shared the stage with "Emanuel & The Fear", a band from New York. Cool guys who manage the acrobatics of strings, flutes and hard storms together on one ground. Chapeau. Thanks.
I have a thing that always seems to flex peoples patience- I don't talk to them. That particular night it was even more delicate, cause we couldn't see the audience. The lights dropped down a sharp and impenetrable curtain between stage and crowd, we could barely see a thing. In which case, I almost feel a bit private - another reason not to talk.
But really, why don't I? Because I don't think I got a quarter as much to say as I have to sing. If you're not a natural talker, shut your trap and play.
Maybe I have seen too many of those, whose words weren't half as interesting spoken as they were sung.
Doesn't necessarily mean I'm one of them, you never know what's lying dormant in there. But right now, I like to be sure. So don't ever take it the wrong way. Trust. I care. Only I do it in between the bounds of "1,2,3,4" and "Yeah!". I do believe (strongly) in crushing comfort zones, though. Maybe next time, I'll be a perfect tape. We'll see.
Entry #12
3rd April 2010
12.05 p.m.
Just a quick note, cause it it's hunting me lately. If there is something that's to be loved and adored about people, it's: necessity.
Have a good day, a lack of choice and a restless leg syndrome!
Entry #11
2nd April 2010
12.30 p.m.
There's someone in my city that looks like me, even talks a bit like me, and it fucks me up. He's never there when I ask for him,
and always on my doorstep when I wanna be alone. His name's almost the same, only with an h somewhere stuck in it. He brings a lot of drugs
whenever he's coming over, and I don't fancy that. At least not so frequently. The one shitty thing is that I love his music. It's so definite.
So nakedly disarming. Fuel. What a misery. How can you love something about someone
but dislike the person? You can't drink juice out of no glass, can you? Fuck off. But wait, leave your iPod. God do I want to travel..
Here's a song for restless ambitions:
Entry #10
29th March 2010
2.32 p.m.
Tonight, after editing my enormous new passion and rehearsing afterwards, we, the two of us, went for a spontanious walk. Through the rainy night, alongside a huge river and over urban bridges. 2 hours straight. With someone cool. And all my VIP daytime activities go humble, hiding behind a corner, leaving us alone. Beauty!
Entry #9
21th March 2010
1.46 p.m.
Everyone likes music. Some like icecream, others like to nail the couch better than their lovers, but we all like music. Personally, my heart lies most in music that has a certain feel to it. Like spring, waking up and feeling strong enough to not fuck it up, again. Or looking forward to a night downtown. Or a bunch of people being quiet for no particular reason. This song is one out of the described quality. It's a little older, but it was worth a rediscovery:
Entry #8
8th March 2010
11.36 p.m.
I HATE APPS. I really do. I hate it when people unpack their iphones and gadgets and present their latest apps. Or answer me to what I'll ask for tomorrow, or navigate me to the next drugstore. But - as there's always a catch - as much as I mean those words, that moment (video) shook the very buttress of my John Lydon attitude. I'd still like to say that OI HATE APPS, but am I still allowed to say it?
Entry #7
1st March 2010
12.55 p.m.
The other night, at a friends party..The worst songs are the best!
Entry #6
28th Febuary 2010
08.21 p.m.
This is us performing an early version of Futura, played live in my loftspace. Brian, who made this video, is actually in the shot - the one with the Mozart wig:
Entry #5
27th Febuary 2010
10.44 p.m.
I've been to a gig the other day: Everything Everything. Went there with Tom, who's from Newcastle, too. That one song would stick with me. Couldn't make it walk away since. This is a very, very happy slap! Makes your day, promise:
Entry #4
26th Febuary 2010
04.26 p.m.
Waiting for the bunny rabbit. What if I go bonkers before? Song of the moment: 'Keep the Dog quiet' by Owen Pallett. What a bassline:
Entry #3
24th Febuary 2010
11.24 p.m.
The night before last night, I woke up at about 3 a.m., because I was lying in my bed, doubling up with laughter. I would literally wake up because my body would buckle in spasm. It took me about 2 minutes to realize, that I was lying there, in the middle of the night, and that there was nothing to laugh about. And I couldn't remember what the dream was either. There was nothing but this over the top laugh. That was strange, can't even say it was fun, cause it was so strange.
Entry #2
23th Febuary 2010
12.20 a.m.
Black beans in stew, old pennies would do, but I've got pounds now and plenty to spare and something's happening to my hair and I don't really know what it could be and my back is broken too.
Entry #1
20th January 2010
12.13 p.m.
Welcome to my blog, random diary, whatever. This is a board for posting unthoughtfulness- enjoy!
