Crushing Krisis

Comic Books, Drag Race, & Life in New Zealand

PJ Harvey

Something More Tangible

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There are songs that I have been selfishly hoarding from you for quite a while now, content to let you think “Bucket Seat” was the last fully realized piece to emerge from my imagination – almost a year ago.

The reason for this obfuscation isn’t entirely intentional. Gone are the days when I’d pen something and Trio it just to work out the kinks; “Bucket Seat” appeared almost six months after its original conception. The chances of me writing and recording on the same day grow increasingly slim, as lately I’m lucky if I can make it through a full run of a song a month after I complete the lyrics. And, if it takes that long just to play it through, it’s taking me a much longer time to fully realize a tune.

The other result or, actually, causation of the song-drift is that my arrangements are becoming more deliberate. “Bender” languished even after I finished setting it to music because I knew its chorus wanted to be full of chords with non-standard voicings, but I couldn’t discern what they were. It took months of casual stabs, followed by one long night sitting on my bedroom floor, before I found quite how it was supposed to sound.

I have almost a whole album of new material sitting around, in various stages of completion. I’m a bit afraid of it, because its genre has proven to be unpredictable. “Are You” and “A Little Bit” are about as folky as I get, while “Bender” is of a more indy-rock persuasion (especially with those big ascending inverted 5ths at the end of the chorus). “Puzzle” and “Haze” are both straight-forward radio rockers that could probably use some added riffing, but “Crave” and “Caroline” seem to be shaping up to be Tori or Rufus style laments.

The straightforward riff and growl-to-soaring register of the vocals on “Regrets” could be straight off of a PJ Harvey disc, with the oft-played but ne’er recorded “Martyr” close behind on the scathing scale. “What’s the Use,” “Dream About Her,” and “Let It Be” are upbeat and cloying, almost a little too Jewel-like for me to enjoy playing them, whereas “I Would” is so languid that I can’t believe it came from my pen. “Crash Diet” could be country or complete grunge depending on my mood. “Sense” is ripped from those anonymous boy baritone-rockers who keep scoring single hits. Finally, “Ghost” still defies my description after a year of playing it, and “Strong” and “Automated” are too new to have yet settled on a consistent chord progression.

That’s eighteen songs in various stages of completion and performance. Eighteen! This from the boy who would otherwise have you convinced that he is mired in a year-long dry spell. Obviously this isn’t the case. The transformation in my musicality that I attribute to “Bucket Seat” was not actually from fecundity to drought, but from tossed-off inspiration to obsessed-over dedication – as it recorded it it insisted on being more than just a tossed off set of chords, and now that I’ve heard the results every new song clamors for similar treatment. “Are You” was simple enough to slip through the cracks, and “Blender” condescended to be released since I have no band in sight, but the others are shy and rare, shrinking from my gaze whenever I set about to pound out a new Trio.

Why am I saying all of this? Because, I want to be able to hear these songs, and for you to be able to hear them, and to do that they need to consent to be recorded in some form. Invoking them by name and genre here somehow makes them more tangible – asserting that they definitely do exist, and are waiting in the wings rather than floating like will-o-wisps around my head.

RE: You Rock

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I expect Saturday mornings to be loud in the apartment. It’s a day off, a day to wake up early with too much energy, a day of errands and industriousness. Upstairs they are vacuuming, here we are learning harmony, and there is a wonderful rock coming from downstairs. So wonderful, in fact, that i was sure that i recognized it.

Opening the door to our stairwell i discovered that Zoe, our downstairs neighbor, was playing my traditional airplane-landing accompaniment, PJ Harvey’s “Kamikaze.” This from the same neighbor who was blasting Madonna the day we moved in, and whose best friend is an abnormally pretty drag-queen named Dave, who occasionally chats with me in the hall.

Basically, she is the best downstairs neighbor ever. To show my appreciation, I left the following note, written on leftover coochie-snorcher-pink paper from the Vagina Monologues in red sharpie, taped to her door:

From: Upstairs

RE: You Rock

I noticed you were playing my favorite PJ record. I have everything PJ has recorded; feel free to borrow some. -Peter

ps: It’s nice to have neighbors with good taste!

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I was afraid that Tori might let me down and that i would be force to move her down from the third tier of my pyramid of musical favorites, but Scarlet’s Walk is one of the most eclectic and exciting album’s i have heard in ages. Looks like we’ll have to wait for Ani to release another shitty live album before i can move PJ Harvey up to the third tier…

https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/10/85615479/

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I’ve been very good this year about buying new records – for the most part, i haven’t. Sure, there was a purchase or two a few months ago, but when my music allowance for the first four months of a year is under $100 you know i’m acting with some amount of restraint. Part of what kept my wallet firmly in my pocket is the knowledge that the past two weeks would see the release of over a dozen records that i was definitely eying up for purchase, and on Monday i picked up a few between AKA and South Street. Here are first impressions, in ascending order of quality:

  • Weezer – Maladroit sounds as though it has years of sonic maturity on last years’ disc even though some of its songs were written before the album went gold. This can safely be traced to Weezer self-producing the disc, which seems to be magic for them (they produced Pinkerton as well). However, the lyrics of these thirteen songs are so sparse and inspecific that their sum total of nearly thirty four minutes could easily be condensed down to a five track EP that would feel weightier than this ultimately empty effort.
  • Wilco – Yankee Foxtrot Hotel is the first record i’ve seen hailed as a second Kid A, only this time acoustic and homey instead of electric and expansive. The album has a high catchy-to-crappy contrast, sometime within the same song, but it’s ultimately too dense to tell much from casual listening.
  • Lauryn Hill – Unplugged 2.0 is an odd record, a double disc of Lauryn alone onstage with just a classical guitar talking as much as she is singing. While the set as a whole is overwhelmingly long and repetitive, songs taken in doses of twos and threes will entirely bowl you over; in case you had wondered, Hill is one of the most talented folk singer-songwriters of our generation.
  • Sheryl Crow – C’mon C’mon has been reviewed as everything from weary to worldy, and the record is definitely a little of both. Crow’s solo lyrics sometimes leave something to be desired, but the arrangements on this record are some of her finest (especial with co-writer Jeff Trott). The few weak spots are entirely forgivable in the face of classic rock gems such as the title track and opener “Steve McQueen.”
  • Sarah Shannon was definitely an enigma to me at this time yesterday, but now she very well might have made my favourite album of the year. The self-titled release from the former Velocity Girl member sounds like PJ Harvey fronting an amalgam of half of a big band and an early Sheryl Crow touring crew. The album’s tracking is impeccable, subtly changing from jazzy songs to more rocking fare, and by the time it’s over you just know you want to hear it again.

    https://crushingkrisis.com/2002/05/85090492/