Making Our Way Through

Documentary.

Crunch time has arrived at Dean St. Studio (the name I just invented for our apartment). Dan Towne Hall has announced his official departure date as January 31st. It pains me to say that he will be leaving us. But over the next two weeks there will be many distractions. First and foremost we are attempting to finish all the recording we have left so that I might be able to mix the tracks after he leaves, and through the magic of the interwebs, come to an agreement on the mixes, and finally have a worthy copy of these songs that have been on our minds for nearly six months now. It is exciting to me because I think every time I have attempted to record something by myself I never end up seeing the completed product. And I feel (and hope) that we will be proud of the result. I know that I will be excited to share it when it is done.

I will update this post at a later date with a photograph or two of our newly arranged apartment. With the advent of Christopher B. Hiatt moving in, it took a little work (and a free bed courtesy of Sarah E. Ruff) and a little Ikea, but we are excited about the newfound space. For now, as a teaser, let us just say that we comfortably fit three beds into our bedroom. And over the next three weeks we will be hosting various siblings and guests in our living room. It is an interesting time in Brooklyn. And 2010 still looks promising.

Edit: Days later, I get around to locating the internet. And having thought ahead to upload some new photographs, have arrived to add the promised media.

From Top:

One. Look at how perplexed our face is.

Two. Out of focus. I cannot help but like it even though it shows nothing.

Three. New shoe racks. Maybe the best addition.

Four. Living area. Although it has already changed to house more tenants, note the new shelf on the left wall. Now stop looking at it. It is ours.

Five. New bed install. New arrangement. Three mattresses in one room. Beneath photo lies Dan, sort of 'L' shape with the new bed. So he is half underneath our mini-loft. The pillow at the top of photo is the head of the third bed. I don't have to mention the hanging solution that sections off the room. Multi-purpose. Multi-faceted. Multi-mate.

Cheers,

G. Alan Busch Jr.

Post script. I recently decided that I am going to be famous. Maybe this is the year.

Post post script. I love wordplay. I may be addicted. Also this post has given me formatting headaches. It feels like an ice cream headache made of paragraphs.

Post post post script. Christopher B. Hiatt found ourselves at Bryant Park on one of the last days of the free ice skating rink. The line was long, and we were busy, but it was nice to see.

The Great Escape

Documentary

The non-fiction posts continue I am afraid. Though I am happily considering my next fictional post.

This year has brought me new hope somehow. I suppose, that this could have happened at any given time, but it just so happens that it coincided with the turn of the decade.

New Years Eve 2009. Depressing. I think I worked an eleven or twelve hour shift at the store. It was particularly bad because aside from the normal 'house-keeping' tasks that I do since others are incapable (though upon consideration I imagine janitors get paid more) I had to act as a cashier for three hours. At first I was happy for the change of scenery, but quickly realised that I would not be able to leave this little area for some time. And after dealing with people (some rude, some not) for that long it made sorting hangers (yes, seriously) that much more exciting. At this point, I was ready to give up. And almost certainly had resigned myself to the upcoming year of day in and day out retail work.

New Years Day 2010. Tired. Had to be at the store early in the morning. In contrast to the previous day, however, I could not help but to begin to plan my escape. It has been a long time coming, and I have thought many times that it would be easier and safer to continue in the environment I am in (easier and safer financially maybe, not sure that refers to my sanity). Despite the risk, I began plotting and strategizing.

It is hard to go out on a limb for something that you think will make you happier. By no means do I need money to be happy, but I like to be entertained and I like to live. I think that freelancing will offer me the chance to have both of those things. And if I have to be even closer to poverty than I am now in order to be less unhappy with things, than I think I can deal with that consequence.

It has been difficult having to turn down good opportunities in the theatre world while busy at Express. I think once I no longer have to do that I will begin meeting more people that are like-minded. And more than that, people that are involved in other projects that I might be able to be a part of. Anyway that I look at it, if I do not try it soon, I am afraid that I never will.

Here goes.

The Cold Air Pushes Hard On You

Non-Fiction

The title is a reference to a song written by the Great Lake Swimmers. I will go ahead and say it is my recommendation for the day because it is fantastic. The track is titled 'Changing Colours', find it.

First, I feel bad about how this year has started for my blog.

Neglected.

Ignored.

Cold.

But I am rather determined to overcome this start and refresh the content herein. I began to draft a post on the train the other day, and will attempt to follow my notes here, but because of my lack of writing I fear that it will be a disjointed post. But you have to start somewhere.

As with anything New York and winter, I should begin with the cold. It is all-encompassing (though recent small victory, the heat the in apartment has increased from a slightly bearable average of 60 to a relatively comfortable average 68). Despite how cutting the cold and wind can be (and its true, no layers can stop the wind when it gusts anywhere from 30-40 miles per hour), it is inspiring in a way. Something about the cold makes me feel a strong need to have only what I need for survival with me anytime I leave my apartment. This has always been an attractive idea to me, and I am fairly certain that I would be much happier if I only owned what I could fit on my back.

This has made me think how it is so easy in this life to gather things that we do not need yet feel compelled in some way to own or to have nearby. Before my move to the city I felt pretty positive about the push I made to rid myself of items that I either did not use or determined that I did not need. By no means did I rid myself of all my belongings, but I was content with the amount of stuff I had at that point. And already, a mere six months later I feel burdened with the new things I have acquired. I am not sure how it all happens so quickly. But it will be a tendency that I will fight for the rest of my days.

Oh to be on the road with nothing holding me back.

GAB

Post script. CBH's triumphant return to NYC is now realised. I have included a photo as a means of proof (and for all you iphone users the CameraBag app is wonderful). You can find his blog here.

Post post script. Passion Pit with Robin and the above was a success. Odds were they would let us down, but it was with joy that we received their very tidy and sincere performance (at a completely sold out Terminal 5, line of sight was slightly obscured, but here is what I captured).

Winter 2009

A Narrative

Greetings, I hope all is well with the world out there. As for my absence, there are a couple of reasons. First, I was supposed to have a glorious vacation in Colorado skiing for a couple of days. As fate would have it, I came down with some sort of awful sickness on day two and was unable to perform the physical requirements of skiing. At least I fit in one day. And it was nice to see family.

Regarding this sickness. It seems to have the lingering qualities of a hibernating bear. Which I guess isn't all bad. I have sort of accepted it as a part of me now. If its course continues at this rate, I may be healthy early next year.

The next event of note is NYC's participation in this winter storm, this weekend past. Apparently it came up from the south and many places received large amounts of precipitation. As for us, we welcomed almost a foot in the city and most of the five boroughs. I was fortunate to have the weekend away from work and enjoyed sitting at home watching the snow. It was absurd to have so much come down within twenty four hours, but I guess that happens from time to time. I began to document this event photographically after the snow fell.

This is the view out of our 'roof terrace'. The first adventure was getting out of the building. Not much snow had been cleared off of sidewalks or steps yet, so the steps to the building were obscured to say the least. At any rate, Dan and I decided to check out the park, so we went.

This is Eastern Parkway. A lovely little walkway really, I am on parts of it everyday. It really has come into its own with the advent of winter though. It traverses through Brooklyn and passes the main cultural area that holds the museum, public library, and some other nice things.

I love how this picture turned out. The woman (admittedly inadvertent) looks so peaceful out there. It is particularly great since they did not pave the main road through the park, yet you can tell she is still following the path if you look at the lamppost. I think I may have one more to share before I bore you.

Once in the park, it was one of the most interesting sites. There were literally people everywhere. It was difficult to capture in a single frame, but this was my favorite attempt. It was the most like a community that I have felt since living here, which was sort of refreshing.

The only other thing of note that has happened here is a fairly lame holiday party for the folks at NYU's theatre. I went thinking there would be more people there that I could meet or at least see one more time before next year. But out of the people that I like that work there, only a couple were at the party. It was still nice though, I just wish I weren't so easily annoyed by people sometimes. But then again I don't know if I would wish for that.

Warmest wintry regards,

G. Alan Busch Jr.

Post Script: I do not know if I have heard any wonderful new music lately. But if you haven't, do give the Sun Giant EP a listen again. It is worth revisiting.

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Update: still here, alive despite being under the weather. A new wintry post is in the works with full multimedia components of course. Hope everybody is well.

Experiencing Bliss

A Concert Description

I am not sure that I could ever fully communicate the experience of this Friday past to anyone, verbally or otherwise. Perhaps a full video documentary would do it justice, but even then it would have to be a fairly detailed one as even capturing the feeling of the audience would prove difficult: possibly. Nevertheless, I feel inspired to try.

The lights went down, the room remained lit only be a few chandeliers of red light hanging from the sixty foot ceiling. Webster Hall is kind of a cool place, it is quite large, and whatever building it is in is some sort of mix between ornate and old fashioned. It was probably built during New York's heyday. The venue is upstairs with some sort of intermediary venue on the entry level, and in between is all

sorts of strange dimly lit hallways and staircases (probably marble, who knows) which made for a difficult journey getting out, but was still neat. The energy inside is probably the hardest thing to put into words. I suppose for any concert people get excited and all that, but it was somehow different for Mew. Once the lights went out, it was as if everyone became a family. Where once one would be annoyed by all the close proximity people bumping and others shoving their way by, one was now not only indifferent, but welcoming of others inviting themselves into ones personal space; hoping that others could see as well. Silas Bjerre, the drummer was the first to take the stage, entering from stage right and sitting at the drums, which were also stage right, which was a welcome change from having them in the very back. There was a little track playing, but the music really began with this vicious drum beat, to which the guitar player, nay virtuoso, Bo Madsen entered and took up his part of an unknown, near-funk-jam opening number. The fellow on keys followed and added a few little parts to this intro and the bass player entered, and last the frontman Jonas Utke Graae Jorgenson. Jonas was handed a guitar, and seamlessly the band picked up the intro track to their opus ...And The Glass Handed Kites, a track titled 'Circuitry of the Wolf'. It is hard to describe how talented these guys really are. Their command of dynamics and timing is really amazing to witness. They are certainly masters of their craft, and it helps that it is clear how much they enjoy making music with each other. A marvelous addition to their performance were occasional (never over-used, but always there when you needed it) videos, animated by Jonas, and possibly some artists they know. The set unfolded without a hitch, or a dull moment. It was a perfect selection of order, emotion, and intensity. A handful of delightful numbers in, just when you were thinking a break would be nice, they would say 'thank you', and entered a short solo period for Jonas on keys, then they would build back up, with a short track by the band sans Jonas, then all would come together and play a few more. Altogether they played seventeen songs (certainly 'Introducing the Palace Players', track two off of the latest album, was a highlight), plus two as an encore, and probably lasted close to two hours. They did not speak much and it was exactly what you wanted. Most of their transitions were led by the synths, and once by a video that became a speaking dog of some sort.

Jonas is one of the most awkward frontmen you will ever see, but somehow it is just right. He has a way of standing almost perfectly still, singing with great posture, and then pausing and looking around, quite straight-faced, during downtimes. Though he struggled at times during the performance, he still was able to amaze with his range and dynamics. He does get into the music on occasion, and moves a little, but most of his expression is with his hands. Otherwise, he is all business, and despite himself is quite charismatic. It is hard to watch anybody else, you find yourself watching him, wondering what he will do next, what he might be thinking.

The light show was one of the more entertaining aspects of the show. Aside from the great lighting provided by a truss that they must travel with, the videos were an integral part of the light show. At times the large screen at the back of the stage would have animations to go along with the songs, and that coupled with great use of strobes and backlight was really a perfect aide on the emotional journey. High energy movements would have tons of light along with it, sometimes even just lines on the screen moving quickly made you feel like you were moving from where you were, and in your mind, you really were.

The whole experience took you to a place that you always wanted to go, but never knew existed.

And the entire crowd experience was unlike I have ever witnessed. Aside from the passionate fans singing along (never to the point that it was annoying (somehow even the fans were appropriate) just when it was big enough to merit) it was all so joyful, even when brushed past you would look at your neighbors, and they just could not stop smiling. To say it was all surreal would probably be cliche, but there is not another way to describe it that I can think of.

I wish everyone, everywhere could have experienced that night. The world would be better off with a wonderful memory like that to keep it warm.

Warmest regards dear Frengers,

Post Script: For additional (and decent quality) photos, please visit Brooklyn Vegan's post about the subject.

Post Post Script: Do your ears a favor and listen to the new track from the upcoming Jonsi solo release. Due out in March 2010. Oh my.

Written In Reverse

Stream of Consciousness

He lived alone. Working as the night time doorman in an inconsequential building on the lower east side occupied the majority of his time. It was a steady job and he was not one to complain. There were numerous benefits working the night shift, he would tell himself, and anybody who bothered asking. And in part, this was true. He enjoyed avoiding the typical rush hour scene, and he enjoyed feeling alone in the big city. The five-and-a-half block walk from the train station to his one-bedroom apartment was one of the more peaceful experiences he could remember in his life. And it was one that he was granted five times a week. He was welcomed home each day by the motion activated outdoor light of his neighbor's place, and he genuinely felt welcomed each day.

Some little things did bother him about his unconventional schedule. If he chose to sleep in, he did not like getting his mail in the evening. It was the principal of the thing that bothered him most. All his life he had habitually checked his mailbox upon returning home from work, while it was still daylight. Now, if he passed his mailbox on his way out he would have to think all night about what might have been waiting for him, and what he might have missed. Even with the steady decline in postal service, he remained a committed follower. Aside from the stereotypical bill, he received many subscriptions to magazines and even maintained a correspondence with his mother via post. All this could be avoided, however, simply by checking the mail prior to leaving for the evening, but he was an efficient person by nature, and it was difficult for him to make a trip down the three flights of stairs simply to check the mail, and perhaps return upstairs empty-handed.

Life went on for him for some time. It was easy to be content, or at the very least to convince himself that he was content. He required no human contact other than his everyday interactions with Nick as he took over the post, and then with Dwayne, as he was relieved. He kept in touch with the news each morning and night whether at home or at work, and was never too far behind in the family gossip as his mother wrote at the least, once a week. On occasion he would wonder whether or not it would be worth changing the direction of his life. But there was a greater fear of making things worse that restricted him from thinking any further. And when he thought that perhaps this was some psychological issue to be dealt with, he again shrank away from the idea for fear of the chance that he may end up in a worse way than he was. So things remained. He never missed a day of work, and he renewed his magazine subscriptions on time.

Post Script: Track recommendation: Efterklang - "Modern Drift". Thanks to the ever-present and ever-gracious Daniel T. Hall for his lead to this treat.

Post Post Script: I have decided that I hate how this blog has started. And I blame myself. But I am determined to right the ship (no idea how difficult it was to restrain myself from "write the ship", evidently, too difficult). So, even if I am the only one reading this, I will attempt to please me more in the future. Somehow.