Today is the anniversary of the "on-sale" date for Decomposition.
Also, this year I have blogged a total of three times.
Is
there a connection?
Part
of the reason for my absence is that I took most of 2015 to revise my
middle-grade novel. I finally finished it in September, and now I'm waiting to
see if it will find a publisher.
In the
meantime I'm trying to triangulate the two writer-identities I have for some
reason insisted on forging for myself: the lapsed academic who writes kooky
things about music and culture, and the fantasy novelist.
I feel
like there must be a connection there, but I haven't figured out what it is
yet.
* * *
* *
Things
I'm listening to:
Chris Schlarb,Dropsy. (Chris and I have long shared an affinity for Zappa, and
the melodies on this recording are some the most Zappa-esque I've heard from
him.)
And
something I just received in the mail and can't wait to dive into: The Big Reveal,
by my friends Hot Breakfast! (Heard an advance cut from this a while back, and
it was gorgeous. I bet the rest of the album is too.)
I'm
also returning to some musical projects of my own, of which more soon.
For
what it’s worth: if I believed in things like "record of the year,"
my vote might go to Sufjan Stevens's Carrie and Lowell.
* * *
* *
Via
Alex Rodriguez, this JSTOR article about Miles Davis. I feel
like stuff like this can only come from people who don't think hard enough
about what music is. Consider this (quoted) question:
How are we to account for such glaring defects in the performances of someone who is indisputably one of the most important musicians in the history of jazz?
The
answer is easy: first, redefine the word “defect.” Next, stop obsessing about
what is or is not “important.” If you love a piece of music, great. If not, also
great.
* * *
* *
A friend recently reminded me how
quiet (socially awkward?) I am in real life, which reminded me why I write in
the first place: it’s my main and preferred form of communication. With that in
mind, I pledge to be back here more often from now on.
