Especially now. It screams at night and it screams in the daytime and it feels like it’s trying to take over my brain.
Not all the time, of course. Just every once in a while it starts shrieking and will not STFU. And it’s a bit like the very first time you wrote a computer program with LOOP in it – at least once you would forget to write END and it would keep going until you shut it down. Sometimes you could even get it to do an exponential core dump (probably the wrong terminology but those of you who’ve played with UNIX know what I mean and the rest of you would have to have it explained) and everything would just screech to a halt veeeeeeeeeeeeeeery slowly and you’d need a complete system reboot.
I think we managed to anger a few sys.admins in the old days.
But I haven’t got a sys.admin to reboot my brain. Sometimes I just need to drown the noise and although it’s much more fun doing it with alcohol, music works just as well.
Noise, pure and simple. Real noise. Sometimes you’ll find the perfect album which won’t leave the cd player for weeks. And sometimes you’ll find that perfect song and let it go on repeat for hours on end.
You weren’t really expecting some major surprise here, were you? These two together – damn. Not often two such greats make each other even better.
Play it LOUD. Drown in the music. Just be. Feel the core dump dissolving. Play it again until your mind feels more at ease. Then play it again cos this is such an awesome piece of music.
It’s now been three weeks since my mastectomy and tomorrow I will be getting the results from pathology. They found cancer cells in the sentinel lymph nodes, so they removed a whole chunk of lymph node tissue from under my arm as well. If the cancer has spread into that as well … 2018 could be even more interesting that I wanted.
But that’s tomorrow. And because I am so far behind on my blogging, let’s just revisit some good music.
We all know what a one-hit wonder is although we tend to disagree on the definition.
A friend of mine had this as one of the songs in his funeral:
For some of us, Chumbawamba are far from a one-hit wonder but this was their only commercial success:
Great band. I had the pleasure of interviewing them at UKC a million years ago, for KRED, and seen them a number of times.
I know, I know, I wrote somewhere that I didn’t cry. Much.
Except these last ten days I have been crying almost non-stop.
Not that I’m sad or anything, it’s just that my tear production has increased so I’m sniffling and crying all day. It even has a fancy name: epiphora (which is also a genus of large moths).
Not that I’m complaining. The opposite side effect – dry mucous membranes – is loads worse.
So why did I write this small blog? To post this video, of course. The finest studio ballad they ever did.
(possibly) last gig of the year was Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds at Oslo Spektrum on Monday. I am tempted to go see Laibach on November 11th, although I must admit I am slightly worried about how bad the side effects will be after 5 rounds of chemo and probably won’t buy a ticket until the same day. If there are any available!
Back to Nick & the Seeds. They’ve been on my play lists for close to 30 years now, since Kicking against the Pricks (I think it was the cover of All Tomorrow’s Parties that got me started). Most artists who have been around for decades can be sorted into two: they still make the same kick-ass music they made 30 years ago, and even if you haven’t heard the last two-three-five albums, you know what you’ll get. Joan Jett, Ministry, Nine Inch Nails, Raga Rockers are bands I’ll happily go see cos I know what I’ll be getting.
There is a slight grey zone that included Bowie and Lou Reed, where the style varied but was always great!
Now, Nick Cave (and Einsturzende Neubauten/Blixa Bargeld, cos natural succession, and Haus der Luege is still one of my fave albums ever) belong to the second group. Artists who change their style dramatically over the years, and not necessarily to (what I consider) the good.
One reviewer even called him a “ballademaker” which in Norwegian translates to ballad writer. In Danish it would have meant troublemaker. The Nick Cave I grew up with did not write ballads. He wrote noize. Not as much as Blixa, but it was loud and heavy, post-punk (after The Birthday Party) goth rock.
Still brilliant up until 1997 – The Boatman’s Call marked (for me) the beginning of the end of the Cave I knew.
First time I saw Preacher Man was at the Quart festival in 1996. The most excellent day of gigs (first time I saw Ministry, too), the sun was shining and wow that gig was awesome. I’ve since seen him at the Grieg hall in Bergen (1998?), him and a grand piano and that too was wow – mind blown!
To be fair, the guy is a true master of words and his lyrics have always been dirty, black, dealing with death and religion and war and horrible things with perfection. I love his books. It’s just the music that has become so – ballady. Too sweet. My expectations were, needless to say, not exactly sky high.
And although there were too many ballads, there was also true perfection for old, cranky, die-hard fans such as myself. I love From Her to Eternity. I hate studio-Tupelo but live it is so black and slow and amazing that it is an absolute fave.
But top of the list – The Mercy Seat. The song that caught me in the first place, hook, line and sinker. Got me addicted, got me wanting ever more, in the most amazing ballady version. That is, my kinda ballad – soooooo slow to start off with, slowly gaining momentum, never letting go, never loosening that fiddle that drags it along as I imagine those on Death Row drag their feet on the way to the Chair…
And fitting that it was the day before my 4th round of chemo. Though my “mercy seat” includes great service, all the coffee I could want, food, good company and meds that are making me better.
Cos positive side effect #2 showed itself Monday. Concerts have, for me, been a right pain since my body stopped working. Standing on concrete floors – even if I’ve been moving – has frozen my lumbar region so if there have been bands I want to see, I have to really, really, REALLY want to see them cos after half an hour, I have been in pain, and the concert better be hard enough too be able to knock through that pain.
Not Monday. Monday went great. Back worked perfectly, didn’t crumble, didn’t stiffen, I didn’t have to bend myself gently into a chair after it was over. Yay! Hoping for four more rounds of chemo… this can only get better, right?
Oh, and all the pics are from the Quart festival in 1996 cos seriously, Preacher Man hasn’t aged at all. Probably wearing the same clothes, too…
The cat who swallowed the canary. I think I copied this grin on Wednesday.
I went to see Ministry last Wednesday. They played at Rockefeller Music Hall in Oslo, and I think this was the 5th time I saw them. First time was at the Quart festival in Kristiansand in ’96 (and no, that was just a couple of years ago, and OMFG the gig on Wednesday was probably as hardcore and gooey and awesome as the first time I saw them).
My attitude towards cancer: f**k you, you chose the wrong chick to mess with!
Music has always been important to me, although I will be the first to admit that I’m not very impressed with contemporary music and I’m perfectly happy with the bands I’ve listened to ‘forever’. Since 2001 (still not doing any maths here) the newest band I’ve seen is probably Alice In Chains (1987) and the oldest Judas Priest (1969).
[btw if you ever get a chance to see Priest live, Rob Halford is king. He was in his early 60s when I saw them, and his energy – he was up and down that stage for almost three full hours. Respect!]
I meant to do a “music I listen to now” then I found the canary pic of Al and it made me so happy cos Ministry is the perfect way to empty your mind of all thoughts and just float away in gooooey industrial land. I was going to write more, but it kinda went missing cos I got busy youtubing.
(possibly) last gig of the year was 
Now, Nick Cave (and Einsturzende Neubauten/Blixa Bargeld, cos natural succession, and Haus der Luege is still one of my fave albums ever) belong to the second group. Artists who change their style dramatically over the years, and not necessarily to (what I consider) the good.
Still brilliant up until 1997 – The Boatman’s Call marked (for me) the beginning of the end of the Cave I knew.
