Sunday, March 01, 2015


I remember walking around Nepean, in my mid-twenties, listening to Stephen Malkmus' first solo record - and I felt like I had broken the surface of a different headphonic plane of existence. He followed no method. It was like indie rock, stream of consciousness beat-poetry with a lot of 4/4 timing. He would talk about friends and enemies and passengers and everything that came to him.

Although he had moments of rage, he had those beautiful sonic tapestries that would haunt and catch you wonderfully off guard. Church On White is one of those pieces of beauty. It's feel gets a bit wild and swirly, but the essence of a great ballad is all there. The wet suburbian streets shone up at me, even as I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I accepted my asphalt reflection, and I walked on.

I spent a lot of early mid twenties in a bit of a holding pattern. I think I didn't really get going or making any sort of philosophical waves until I was into my 3.0 years. If you had told me, at that time of my life, that that was the way it was going to be, I probably would have beed mad - but I'm not mad now.

Like Malkmus, I take the different path - the rugged, dark road of the creative forest.

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