the island, part 10: u.s. mill
This is the tenth in a song-by-song series about why I chose FULL FORCE GALESBURG by The Mountain Goats as the one CD I would take to a desert island. Previous installments are available here.
You wake up gloriously alive, with the firm conviction that the problems that have disturbed you in the past will now disappear. Disappear into the midnight of your consciousness.
That's a found-tape voice that opens "Prana Ferox", the next-to-last song on SWEDEN, and it runs through my mind as I wake up anything but gloriously alive, my liver and gut cursing me in unison, and the firm conviction that the problems disturbing me will soon disappear from my body, but less clarity as to which orifice.
I stumble up from my sandy mattress, quickly decide that being on the floor is very preferable to standing, and I knock the CD player, which I had left on pause. Dumb idea. Runs down the batteries.
Did I really drink a whole bottle of vodka? After my liver having two months of no alcohol whatsoever? Fuck. That was dumb.
"Prana Ferox" is a good song, no, a great song. There are many great songs that The Mountain Goats have written that I do not have with me, other than running through my head. "Oceanographer's Choice", "Pale Green Things", "Source Decay", "Going To Scotland", "Palmcorder Yajna", fuck there's no point in starting because I'll have to stumble out into the sand with urgency before I complete the list.
No matter how long I went on, though, I wouldn't include this song, the song after the song I was habitually playing on repeat last night. Until I came here, I wouldn't have even been able to tell you the name of "U.S. Mill", and in general I'd only dimly remember it, just as when I look at the track listing I can never quite remember how that song goes.
Dim memories somehow seem appropriate now. The birdsong is killing my head. I need water.
Just because you pick an album to take to a desert island doesn't mean you think every song is perfect, and this song - see, it's not bad, it's just like nothing, like sand blowing in the breeze, there and gone, insubstantial. I mean, this is a guy who's used analogies to blood disorders, border wars, and Louisiana graveyards in his songs, who has a functional understanding of Latin, and the best he can fucking come up with for similes in this song are "clear as crystal" and "bright as gold"?
Water. Ah. Must have knocked some button, the song's on repeat play. Think I'll sit here a while, let the sound of the waves wash over me. I wonder if putting my head in the waves would help. The riff plays over and over. Maybe it's supposed to be this insubstantial, like something to cleanse the palate after the sheer awesomeosity of the last two songs, as if three songs back-to-back that were that awesome would cause the universe to collapse.
The light glints through the space between two of the planks, dust mites dancing in the breeze. I try to picture this song, the world of this song that is so frustratingly, deliberately vague.
And then, after hundreds of listens, it finally comes to me, in a flash of hungover inspiration: it's a song about fucking.
Pardon my French, but trust me, it's got to be. Hence the vagueness which is actually discretion, hence being cold in summer (being naked on the stone floor of a shadowy grain silo can do that to you), hence ...
Oh crap.
As I run from the cabin, limbs akimbo but somehow maintaining forward motion, it does slightly occur to me that it is interesting that something you think you know everything about can still surprise you, and that perhaps there is a lesson there, but what the lesson is disappears from my mind quickly as everything else disappears from me, and I wonder if I will ever learn.
--------------
And, of course, the latest installment of videos for people who don't give a shit about The Mountain Goats: the incredibly labor intensive and highly impressive video for "The Gold We're Digging" by Parts And Labor, a band I know nothing about other than this video, but the song is kinda catchy. I just get wiped out thinking about how long it would take to make the video, though.
You wake up gloriously alive, with the firm conviction that the problems that have disturbed you in the past will now disappear. Disappear into the midnight of your consciousness.
That's a found-tape voice that opens "Prana Ferox", the next-to-last song on SWEDEN, and it runs through my mind as I wake up anything but gloriously alive, my liver and gut cursing me in unison, and the firm conviction that the problems disturbing me will soon disappear from my body, but less clarity as to which orifice.
I stumble up from my sandy mattress, quickly decide that being on the floor is very preferable to standing, and I knock the CD player, which I had left on pause. Dumb idea. Runs down the batteries.
Did I really drink a whole bottle of vodka? After my liver having two months of no alcohol whatsoever? Fuck. That was dumb.
"Prana Ferox" is a good song, no, a great song. There are many great songs that The Mountain Goats have written that I do not have with me, other than running through my head. "Oceanographer's Choice", "Pale Green Things", "Source Decay", "Going To Scotland", "Palmcorder Yajna", fuck there's no point in starting because I'll have to stumble out into the sand with urgency before I complete the list.
No matter how long I went on, though, I wouldn't include this song, the song after the song I was habitually playing on repeat last night. Until I came here, I wouldn't have even been able to tell you the name of "U.S. Mill", and in general I'd only dimly remember it, just as when I look at the track listing I can never quite remember how that song goes.
Dim memories somehow seem appropriate now. The birdsong is killing my head. I need water.
Just because you pick an album to take to a desert island doesn't mean you think every song is perfect, and this song - see, it's not bad, it's just like nothing, like sand blowing in the breeze, there and gone, insubstantial. I mean, this is a guy who's used analogies to blood disorders, border wars, and Louisiana graveyards in his songs, who has a functional understanding of Latin, and the best he can fucking come up with for similes in this song are "clear as crystal" and "bright as gold"?
Water. Ah. Must have knocked some button, the song's on repeat play. Think I'll sit here a while, let the sound of the waves wash over me. I wonder if putting my head in the waves would help. The riff plays over and over. Maybe it's supposed to be this insubstantial, like something to cleanse the palate after the sheer awesomeosity of the last two songs, as if three songs back-to-back that were that awesome would cause the universe to collapse.
The light glints through the space between two of the planks, dust mites dancing in the breeze. I try to picture this song, the world of this song that is so frustratingly, deliberately vague.
And then, after hundreds of listens, it finally comes to me, in a flash of hungover inspiration: it's a song about fucking.
Pardon my French, but trust me, it's got to be. Hence the vagueness which is actually discretion, hence being cold in summer (being naked on the stone floor of a shadowy grain silo can do that to you), hence ...
Oh crap.
As I run from the cabin, limbs akimbo but somehow maintaining forward motion, it does slightly occur to me that it is interesting that something you think you know everything about can still surprise you, and that perhaps there is a lesson there, but what the lesson is disappears from my mind quickly as everything else disappears from me, and I wonder if I will ever learn.
--------------
And, of course, the latest installment of videos for people who don't give a shit about The Mountain Goats: the incredibly labor intensive and highly impressive video for "The Gold We're Digging" by Parts And Labor, a band I know nothing about other than this video, but the song is kinda catchy. I just get wiped out thinking about how long it would take to make the video, though.
Labels: the island, videos for people who don't give a shit about the Mountain Goats.
4 Comments:
Six More songs to go. :) Did I mention that I downloaded this album from e-music after about week three of this series? I am listening to each song as you write about them each week which is an amusing (if very drawn out way) to hear an album.
Oh and when you wrote "Parts And Labor, a band I know nothing about other than this video, " You meant to add "except for Ramon's brillaint blog about them back in July" right? :P
All my favorite albums always have one song that doesnt fit, one song that is substantially different from the rest, an oddball sort of song.
Most of the time the oddball song seems to create some contrast taht has the effect of adding a layer of depth to the record. Your descpription of US Mill, as compared to the other songs, makes me feel this may an oddball song on this record.
and that video is pretty awesome, i dont even want to begin to think about how they did it.
Ramon - You're just giving me shit for calling you out on Jesu a couple weeks back, aren't you? I remember reading yr. blog now that I look back, but the message I took from it was "don't bother listening unless it's live", so I didn't investigate further, and since I listen to podcasts on my iPod and only double check things that really strike me even if it was on a podcast I might have missed it.
Carlos - I'll be curious what you think once you hear it on the podcast. My description prior to this week would have been closer to "oddball" than "filler", but now that I've finally figured out what it's about I suspect it may be the most positive description of carnality on the album.
"You're just giving me shit for calling you out on Jesu a couple weeks back, aren't you?"
Well yeah. :P
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