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occasionally subtle
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blake kathryn
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i don't do bad sauce passes
RMH
if i look back, i am lost
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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Mike Driver
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
Xuebing Du
Love Begins
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@jorgefarah
With Great Warmth or Glow of Feeling
ph: Diego HĂłmez Like many people, I awoke on November 9th of 2016 to find that my worldview had shifted in a real and tangible way. Though Iâd gone to bed the previous night feeling a vague sense of bemusement, it wasnât until morning that the gravity of the situation had truly set in: what was essentially a throwaway punchline just a few months prior had actually come to pass. Reality TV showâŚ
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2017 Golden Jorge Awards
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the second-annual GOLDEN JORGE AWARDS, an ignorant and desultory look back at the yearâs highs and lows in the world of entertainment and⌠other stuff. 2017 was weird. Somehow the world managed to go even more batshit crazy, men have experienced a year-long reckoning regarding the true extent of our grossness, and we now live under a renewed fear of nuclearâŚ
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The New Rancid Song is Really Not Very Good at All (And Actually Made Me Kind of Sad)
The New Rancid Song is Really Not Very Good at All (And Actually Made Me Kind of Sad)
 A few thoughts on the new Rancid music video: â It is 2017, I am 30 years old, and I am writing about a new Rancid music video. Iâm not sure if teenage-Jorge would be delighted or terrified by this. â (also, if Teen-Jorge were to catch a glimpse of 2017-Jorge and 2017-Tim Armstrong, heâd rightfully conclude âthe future is made ofâŚ
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30.
I turned 30 last month. I remember when I turned 15, someone told me âyouâre at the exact midpoint of your youthâ. That stuck with me, somehow, and Iâve thought about it a few times in the last few years as I approached this birthday. I also thought about the Blur song âEnd of the Centuryâ, and the whole ânever trust someone over 30â punk ethos thing. They both seem kind of silly now. PerspectiveâŚ
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Fuck Yeah Friday!: Six Clock-Out Tunes Of Cheery Giddiness
Fuck Yeah Friday!: Six Clock-Out Tunes Of Cheery Giddiness
This will make sense in a second. Read on. So, although the last entry was all about the horrible aftermaths of my irresponsible use of free time, Iâm still filled with genuine joy and good cheer every Friday. If thereâs something that keeps me from fully succumbing to despair as I trudge lethargically through the week, making my way in and out of meetings, navigating through the torrid ocean ofâŚ
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A Quick Braindump on the State of Superhero Movies
A Quick Braindump on the State of Superhero Movies
I remember sitting on the steps outside the Capri movie theater in Barranquilla Colombia at the age of five, bawling my eyes out because the screening of Batman Returns that I was so excited for had completely sold out. My Grandpa sat along with me. When most adults wouldâve tried to talk me out of my despondency, growing increasingly exasperated as they explained how it was silly to cry becauseâŚ
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Pearl Jam's "Mind Your Manners": Of Expectations and Excuses
Pearl Jamâs âMind Your Mannersâ: Of Expectations and Excuses
The first single for the upcoming Pearl Jam album was released last week. Itâs a balls-to-the-wall punk rock number hilariously titled âMind Your Mannersâ. Iâve been thinking about this song a lotâ not because itâs a particularly ponderous piece (as youâre about to find out), but because of what my reaction tells me about my relationship with this band. For as much as I donât feel a strongâŚ
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Blowing Like Tumbleweed (Reflections on Distance, Friendship, Family & Trapper Keepers)
Blowing Like Tumbleweed (Reflections on Distance, Friendship, Family & Trapper Keepers)
This is a picture of Karla. More specifically, this is a picture of Karla having dinner at a badly-lit little cocktail bar in midtown Manhattan. And more significantly, this was a picture taken by me, on January 30th of this year. This is significant because, up until mere moments before this picture was taken, Karla and I had never actually met each other in person. Despite nearly a decade ofâŚ
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2016 Golden Jorge Awards
2016 Golden Jorge Awards
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual Jorge Farah Awards (colloquially referred to as the Golden Jorges). An ill-informed and insulated look back at the yearâs highs and lows. Here are this yearâs winners! TOP TEN FAVORITE MOVIES OF THE YEAR: 1. The Neon Demon 2. Nocturnal Animals 3. Arrival 4. Hail, Caesar! 5. The Conjuring 2 6. Karaoke Crazies 7. Manchester By the Sea 8. La La Land 9. TheâŚ
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Clearing the Docket
Thereâs this book called The Life Changing Method of Tidying Up, written by Japanese professional organizer Marie Kondo. You might have seen lines from it repurposed as cutesy Instagram or Pinterest memes, or, if youâre like me, you might have heard it mentioned on a podcast. It is all about the freedom brought about by decluttering your life, which begins in a practical sense with objectsâŚ
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Everyist Blogcast: Let's Call This Song Exactly What it Is (with guest Billy Roche)
Everyist Blogcast: Letâs Call This Song Exactly What it Is (with guest Billy Roche)
What does it mean to be an expat? Like, I know what it means in the traditional sense of the wordâ youâre a stranger in a foreign land, taking residence in unfamiliar soilâ I get that. I am that. But what happens when you stay past the honeymoon periodâ when the thrill of the tourist gives way to the soft focus of mundanity and you suddenly find youâve planted yourself so thoroughly in this newâŚ
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Everyist Blogcast: Click Yourself to Death
Everyist Blogcast: Click Yourself to Death
Someoneâs papering all of Buenos Aires with Jim Carrey stickers. It started with this one, on a lamp-post right around the corner of where I live. I was taking an afternoon stroll through the neighborhood when I was confronted with Jim Carreyâs dead-eyed visage. Oh thatâs cool!, I thought. How whimsical. Soon enough I started seeing more of these terrifying photos pop up all over the city; on busâŚ
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List of Things to Conquer in 2016
List of Things to Conquer in 2016
Writerâs block. Profound ennui. Sundry neuroses. The cavernous empty inside. Writerâs remorse. Procrastination as a sleep-avoidance technique. Social nausea. The synthpop flu. Credit card debt. Frivolous spending (resulting in credit card debt). Writerâs dread. The contrarian impulse. Melancholy makeouts. Side A of Disintegration. The Sopranos seasons 3 through 6. Forever empty bar fridge.âŚ
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Everyist Blogcast: Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl
Everyist Blogcast: Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl
Hello. Itâs been forever. How are you? Great. Itâs December! Which means itâs the magical time of year when music journalists everywhere put on their thinking caps and start making âBest Albums of the Yearâ lists. When I was trudging through the process of putting together my own, I came to the realization that a big majority of the 2015 albums I loved feature female vocalists, either as soloâŚ
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Elvis Costello Song of the Week: The Distance From My Heart to Her
JORGE FARAH: It wasnât really supposed to happen like this. This album wasnât supposed to be a hit.
Elvis Costello is many thingsâ a celebrated songwriter, a dedicated performer, a storyteller, a raconteurâ but one thing he isnât, and heâs never been, is a hit machine. Whatever pop-star aspirations he had seem to have vanished around the early 80s, when he started chasing whimsies around the musical spectrum. And I get the impression that this is something heâs grown content with. Sure, itâd be nice to have a U2-sized hit, and yeah, it would be nice to play to Springsteen-sized audiences, but Elvis is under no illusions regarding the accessibility of his music. Over the course of a 40-year career, there are only a handful of original Elvis Costello songs that have broken through and captured the general publicâs imagination. These brief brushes with commercial success seem to keep him going for a few years at a time, bankrolling some of his more esoteric endeavors. The latest of these commercial resurgences came in 2009, when Starbucksâs Hear Music label released Secret, Profane and Sugarcane. An odd confluence of factorsâ jaunty lead single âSulphur to Sugarcaneâ, Starbucksâs marketing push, and increased public awareness through his Spectacle TV showâ contributed to making this oddball collection of songs Elvisâs most successful album in years.
And donât get me wrong, itâs a lovely album! Completely deserving of the success it had. It sounds wonderful, and the songs are as carefully composed and expertly performed as anything else in his catalogue. But it is an odd collection of tunes. Â The very conception of this album was unusual. The story goes that Elvis came to T Bone Burnett in 2008 with the idea to record a solo album that was exactly that: solo. Just guitar and vocals. Despite the width of his catalog, this is still a kind of album heâs never released; the closest thing to it is a bootleg collection of home demos titled King of Acoustic. This idea quickly transformed as they started calling in several prominent names in the world of Americana and bluegrass to serve as session musicians (and, eventually, a traveling band that would be dubbed The Sugarcanes). They worked on a mixed bag of songs: a few new originals, a few cast-offs from previous records, and (strangest of all) a set of songs based on the life of Hans Christian Andersen from a never-completed play commissioned by the Royal Danish Opera. If this last one didnât elicit a bemused eyebrow raised, itâs probably a sign that youâre already acclimated to the sudden twists-and-turns of Costelloâs career. The resulting record was shelved for a year, and only released after Momofukuâ a much more traditional rock album featuring his regular band The Impostersâ was met with widespread indifference.
âShe Handed Me a Mirrorâ is the first of these Hans Christian Andersen songs to pop up in the tracklisting here. It is a dour, decidedly downbeat song, carried along by Stuart Duncanâs mournful violin, with contrapuntal flourishes from Jerry Douglasâs rich and resonant dobro. The mandolin rattles like shackles beneath the text. It doesnât quite resemble bluegrass, which was a label that was slapped on the album from day oneâElvisâs bluegrass album!âon account of all the notable string-band players featured on it. But this song, like several others in the record, more closely resembles traditional European ballads. The songâs melody, one of the prettiest that Elvis ever wrote, has this sour undercurrent running through it; an evocative chiaroscuro heightened by the string-band arrangement. The composition navigates the grief and resignation of betrayal and loss, servicing the words beautifully. The lyrics tell the story of Hans Christian Andersenâs declaration of love to his muse, Swedish singer Jenny Lind, and her crushing response. Much has been made of the Danish authorâs romantic life (or his lack thereof), but it seems very clear that he was a troubled, deeply lonesome man whose fixations on unattainable women pointed both to a deeply-rooted insecurity and an inflated sense of self. Costelloâs song beautifully captures the terrifyingly vulnerable moment after putting oneself out there, and the dread and anxiety of rejection. Utter devastation followed by the dull ache of heartbreak. The dashing word like âbrotherâ, the crushing word like âfriendâ. A far cry from the albumâs braggadocious and lighthearted lead single.
It makes sense that âSulphur to Sugarcaneâ resonated. Itâs a bouncy, lively, uncharacteristically naughty song delivered with a wink and a smile. That single, at least on first listen, is the kind of ârootsyâ music that the stereotypical Starbucks clientele would respond to; 45-year-old investment bankers all across America shrugged a caffeinated âwhy not?â when they saw the album displayed prominently as they waited for their venti chai lattes or whatever. I have to wonder how they felt when they finally played the album and got to all the stuff about murder and slave ships and the gondola songs about drunken sailors and regret.
KEVIN DAVIS: Secret, Profane, and Sugarcane is special to me for kind of a strange reason.
At the beginning of the summer of 2009, I quit my job as a foster care caseworker with virtually no backup plan. My wife and I talked the situation over with our families and our landlord â all of whom mercifully agreed that getting out of the emotionally devastating field of social work was the right thing to do â so we were able to prepare for a few months of living on a tight budget, but suffice it to say things like new CDâs werenât exactly a high priority. For a guy whoâd been buying roughly a CD a week ever since his first paycheck at age sixteen, letting a backlog of new releases accumulate in my queue of wants was an utterly maddening exercise in patience and self-control. So when a friend gave me Secret, Profane, and Sugarcane for my birthday in mid-June, its arrival was not taken for granted â it was probably the only new album I acquired that summer, and as such my processing of the record was intensely focused and single-minded, similar to how I used to absorb CDâs when I was a kid and could only afford a new one once every few months. To that end, I came to know Sugarcane atypically well, carting it around with me for all manners of personal errand that summer â listening on headphones while mowing the lawn or cooking on the grill, in the car while driving around the city in search of gainful employment, at low volumes on the stereo while attempting to get my six month-old daughter to fall sleep at night. It struck me as characteristically engaging on an intellectual level but also deeply pleasurable on a simple aesthetic one â truly the perfect Costello album for all occasions, which is not a bad album to have come along when you can only afford one.
Musically, the album reminds me of Richard Thompsonâs 2005 album Front Parlor Ballads, a similarly all-acoustic record that disguises a great deal of complex harmony and unconventional chord sequences beneath a consistent, rudimentary sound palette which causes the songs to sound far simpler (and far more uniform) than they are. âShe Handed Me a Mirrorâ is perhaps the albumâs finest example of this â it is a song busy with modulation, almost as though each lyric or set of lyrics adheres intrinsically to its own rulebook, unconcerned with what came before or what is to follow. This isnât an entirely new concept for Costello â his songs have always risked musical unwieldiness in the service of their words â but Iâm comfortable saying that, as a composer, making complexity coherently musical is something heâs generally gotten better at with age. âShe Handed Me a Mirrorâ is a fantastic exercise in the use of illogical chordal juxtapositions to create something extremely evocative â one note at a time, itâs an extremely pretty song, but while the general outline of the main melody echoes the sense of loss inherent to the lyric, the âblue chordsâ (the âbutâ in the line, âBut it was of a manâ; the âI turnedâ in the lyric, âI turned from the reflectionâ; the entire chordal shift in the third verse) exacerbate the loss with a twinge of discomfort, contributing to an altogether more complex and therefore better-rounded portrayal of this characterâs particular predicament. The old saying is that itâs better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, and this song is a beautiful illustration of that maxim, no better than in its final verse:
She handed me a mirror But I saw her instead She handed me a mirror She handed me a mirror And that is all she did.Â
Though this mirror seems to possess some weird supernatural powers (it reflects back to the narrator not only the reality that his love for this woman has so consumed him that it has become the only relevant component of his identity, but â earlier in the song â it also has the power to reveal what he looks like in her eyes), the devastation in the song lies in what the final line says about her gesture: Whatever symbolism the mirror takes on, this man has made this woman his whole world, and the only thing she can give him is a trinket. To that end, this becomes a song less about the immediacy of loss and more about the death of hope, a devastation many would agree is far greater.
As with the rest of the album, not enough good can be said about Jerry Douglasâs dobro playing â it is the perfect foil to the vocal melody, conveying musically what the lyrics would lose their sense of mysticism for saying outright. For all the straightforward, Starbucks-friendly arrangements on the record, there is a quaintness to the way the instrumentation plays off the subject matter that recalls Dylanâs Basement Tapes, or some of Tom Waitsâs recent work. Itâs music that is timeless in its construction and in its execution, but still governed by something vaguely magical that we canât â or choose not to â put our finger on.
Elvis Costello Song of the Week: The Thrill is So Divine
KEVIN DAVIS: I wish I was a better candidate than I am for penning a proper tribute to Allen Toussaint, who died of a heart attack last Tuesday while on tour in Madrid, but though my respect for him is huge (only a charlatan could possess anything less after reading the beautiful articles written in his honor last week), my qualifications are scant â Iâll spare you the copying and pasting of his many accolades from Wikipedia and admit I know him primarily through his work with Costello, most thoroughly documented on the 2006 collaboration The River in Reverse. As he explains in the documentary Putting the River in Reverse (the thirty minute bonus DVD included with first edition copies of the album), Costello conceived the project as a sort of âsongbookâ album for Toussaint after the two crossed paths at New York Cityâs Hurricane Katrina benefit in September of 2005, Toussaint being among the most revered of all figures in the vast New Orleans musical landscape, displaced to NYC after his home was destroyed by the storm. While I donât necessarily count the album as one of my favorites in the Costello canon, time has been kind to it â particularly after revisiting the DVD, it is difficult to separate the album from its historical moment and the circumstances that birthed it, and to that end I find there to be a driving sense of purpose behind these songs now that wasnât necessarily readily apparent to me in 2006 when all I cared about was getting a proper follow-up to The Delivery Man.
Costello and Toussaint co-authored several fine new originals for this record, but in honor of Allen we chose to focus on one of his songs: âAll These Things.â This is probably my favorite of the Toussaint standards sung by Costello on the album, and presumably itâs special to Elvis as well â in the mid-â80âs, he recorded an intimate solo electric version of it that appears on Rhinoâs Blood and Chocolate reissue. The arrangement on The River in Reverse is decidedly grander, commencing with a horn passage that suggests a sort of military fanfare rather than a traditional R&B ballad, but the performance is the perfect fusion of the two musiciansâ talents â Costello leans into the vocal with a modicum of care that recalls Painted From Memory and North, savoring every note of the melody, the light touch of Toussaintâs piano in perfect musical and emotional conversation with his phrasing. Costello is such a loquacious writer that one learns to appreciate the instances where he elects to perform songs that really give his voice room to breathe â to draw out vowel sounds, to revel in its own timbre without having to first negotiate the challenges of complicated language. Professional sympathizers to all forms of Elvis-voice by this point, the Imposters provide tasteful, restrained backing, keyed to the emotional weight of the chord changes, giving the spotlighted voice a meaningful place to land every time. Itâs a simple but wise song that effectively communicates the complex relationship between love and loss, spoken in romantic terms in the song, but a sentiment that was no doubt as relevant to Toussaint during the recording of this album â as his beloved city was in ruins â as it is to that same city now as it mourns one of its most cherished figures.
JORGE FARAH: I love this album.
I love this album, though I often forget that I do.
First of all, it took me forever to even buy the thing. I was still snaking my way through Costelloâs discography and assimilating those early albums, each one a more exciting discovery than the next. I had little use for what in my eyes amounted to little more than a covers album. Much like Kevin, I was largely unaware of Allen Toussaint, though I was familiar with a few of his songs through other musicians (as well as my Momâs own broken-English rendition of âWorking on the Coal Mineâ from my childhood). When I finally did purchase The River in Reverse, it didnât exactly set my world on fire; the songs were clearly good, but the recording itself felt a bit mutedâ like the whole thing had been run through some sort of hiss filter that removed a lot of its pop. It wasnât until I listened to the 2006 live DVD Hot as a Pistol Keen as a Blade that it all clicked; the cleverness in the arrangements, the joie de vivre of the performances, the simmering anger beneath some of the political songs, the resolute resilience in others. Even after this albumâs many charms revealed themselves to me, I very rarely play it. In a recent ranking of Costelloâs entire oeuvre (the kind that obsessive-compulsive music enthusiasts are wont to do), I ranked it near the very bottom of the list. Itâs only when I come upon one of the songs on Shuffle mode, or when I listen back for the purpose of writing blogs about them, that I realize just how enjoyable this collection is.
The album is made up of barnstormers and slow-burners and romantic ballads scattered throughout. âAll These Thingsâ is, to me, the most beautiful of Toussaintâs compositions featured hereââThe Sharpest Thornâ would probably have my vote for overall favorite, but other people have already written about that one. What I really love about this one, beyond the sweetness of the sentiment, is the orchestration. Although Toussaintâs grand piano is the main melodic instrument here (as it should be), I want to point out three small elements that color the composition beautifully: Steve Nieveâs organ, which circles the harmony quietly in the background; Costelloâs guitar, delivering brief melodic flourishes; and the Crescent City Horns, which punctuate the songâs stops and starts with a stately arrangement.
Finally, Iâd like to highlight this amazing playlist, put together by music writer Stephen Thomas Erlewine. Containing some of Toussaintâs most memorable work as a producer and as a performer, it serves as a wonderful introduction for the uninitiated (as I am) as well as just a thoroughly enjoyable collection of music. Â Itâs always a bummer when these legends leave usâespecially people as warm and kind as Toussaint seemed to beâbut thereâs comfort to be found in the music they leave behind. It will outlast all of us.
Elvis Costello Song of the Week: The Thrill is So Divine
KEVIN DAVIS: I wish I was a better candidate than I am for penning a proper tribute to Allen Toussaint, who died of a heart attack last Tuesday while on tour in Madrid, but though my respect for him is huge (only a charlatan could possess anything less after reading the beautiful articles written in his honor last week), my qualifications are scant â Iâll spare you the copying and pasting of his many accolades from Wikipedia and admit I know him primarily through his work with Costello, most thoroughly documented on the 2006 collaboration The River in Reverse. As he explains in the documentary Putting the River in Reverse (the thirty minute bonus DVD included with first edition copies of the album), Costello conceived the project as a sort of âsongbookâ album for Toussaint after the two crossed paths at New York Cityâs Hurricane Katrina benefit in September of 2005, Toussaint being among the most revered of all figures in the vast New Orleans musical landscape, displaced to NYC after his home was destroyed by the storm. While I donât necessarily count the album as one of my favorites in the Costello canon, time has been kind to it â particularly after revisiting the DVD, it is difficult to separate the album from its historical moment and the circumstances that birthed it, and to that end I find there to be a driving sense of purpose behind these songs now that wasnât necessarily readily apparent to me in 2006 when all I cared about was getting a proper follow-up to The Delivery Man.
Costello and Toussaint co-authored several fine new originals for this record, but in honor of Allen we chose to focus on one of his songs: âAll These Things.â This is probably my favorite of the Toussaint standards sung by Costello on the album, and presumably itâs special to Elvis as well â in the mid-â80âs, he recorded an intimate solo electric version of it that appears on Rhinoâs Blood and Chocolate reissue. The arrangement on The River in Reverse is decidedly grander, commencing with a horn passage that suggests a sort of military fanfare rather than a traditional R&B ballad, but the performance is the perfect fusion of the two musiciansâ talents â Costello leans into the vocal with a modicum of care that recalls Painted From Memory and North, savoring every note of the melody, the light touch of Toussaintâs piano in perfect musical and emotional conversation with his phrasing. Costello is such a loquacious writer that one learns to appreciate the instances where he elects to perform songs that really give his voice room to breathe â to draw out vowel sounds, to revel in its own timbre without having to first negotiate the challenges of complicated language. Professional sympathizers to all forms of Elvis-voice by this point, the Imposters provide tasteful, restrained backing, keyed to the emotional weight of the chord changes, giving the spotlighted voice a meaningful place to land every time. Itâs a simple but wise song that effectively communicates the complex relationship between love and loss, spoken in romantic terms in the song, but a sentiment that was no doubt as relevant to Toussaint during the recording of this album â as his beloved city was in ruins â as it is to that same city now as it mourns one of its most cherished figures.
JORGE FARAH: I love this album.
I love this album, though I often forget that I do.
First of all, it took me forever to even buy the thing. I was still snaking my way through Costelloâs discography and assimilating those early albums, each one a more exciting discovery than the next. I had little use for what in my eyes amounted to little more than a covers album. Much like Kevin, I was largely unaware of Allen Toussaint, though I was familiar with a few of his songs through other musicians (as well as my Momâs own broken-English rendition of âWorking on the Coal Mineâ from my childhood). When I finally did purchase The River in Reverse, it didnât exactly set my world on fire; the songs were clearly good, but the recording itself felt a bit mutedâ like the whole thing had been run through some sort of hiss filter that removed a lot of its pop. It wasnât until I listened to the 2006 live DVD Hot as a Pistol Keen as a Blade that it all clicked; the cleverness in the arrangements, the joie de vivre of the performances, the simmering anger beneath some of the political songs, the resolute resilience in others. Even after this albumâs many charms revealed themselves to me, I very rarely play it. In a recent ranking of Costelloâs entire oeuvre (the kind that obsessive-compulsive music enthusiasts are wont to do), I ranked it near the very bottom of the list. Itâs only when I come upon one of the songs on Shuffle mode, or when I listen back for the purpose of writing blogs about them, that I realize just how enjoyable this collection is.
The album is made up of barnstormers and slow-burners and romantic ballads scattered throughout. âAll These Thingsâ is, to me, the most beautiful of Toussaintâs compositions featured hereââThe Sharpest Thornâ would probably have my vote for overall favorite, but other people have already written about that one. What I really love about this one, beyond the sweetness of the sentiment, is the orchestration. Although Toussaintâs grand piano is the main melodic instrument here (as it should be), I want to point out three small elements that color the composition beautifully: Steve Nieveâs organ, which circles the harmony quietly in the background; Costelloâs guitar, delivering brief melodic flourishes; and the Crescent City Horns, which punctuate the songâs stops and starts with a stately arrangement.
Finally, Iâd like to highlight this amazing playlist, put together by music writer Stephen Thomas Erlewine. Containing some of Toussaintâs most memorable work as a producer and as a performer, it serves as a wonderful introduction for the uninitiated (as I am) as well as just a thoroughly enjoyable collection of music. Â Itâs always a bummer when these legends leave usâespecially people as warm and kind as Toussaint seemed to beâbut thereâs comfort to be found in the music they leave behind. It will outlast all of us.
