Thank You, Delicate Steve

These dudes are so good. Seriously. I stumbled across the five-piece Jersey band last summer (2012) and have really not stopped listening to them since. It's actually really revved up lately and I've become kind of, borderline obsessed. Which is why I'm so compelled to talk about it...because everyone I hang out with in real life has heard this shpeel and I want to just shout it from the rooftops/ paint it across the sky/ etc.

A dance amongst strum-heavy rock music, the improvisational, creative rhythms of the jam band genre, the plugged-in crescendos of all things electro, and often reminiscent in robust overall sound to Ravi Shankar's sitar (RIP), this mostly instrumental blast of energy reminds me that there is good music being made out there, BY GUITARS! And for that, we should be thankful. Led by guitar and musical stylings from the 25-year old brain/ spirit of the amazing and swoony Steve Marion, who says he'd prefer an athlete's schedule to a rocker's any day, I feel like you can really hear the words to their songs when there aren't any...if you know what I mean. I've come to terms with the fact that I prefer music with no vocals, given the option, though there are exceptions, as with anything. The guitar licks offered by Delicate Steve, though, really do replace the vocals and that is just a rare breed of modern musician. Steve is joined by Mike Duncan (percussion), Christian Peslak (guitar), Adam Pumilia (bass), and Mickey Sanchez (keyboard), and they all wear cool tank tops from what I can tell. They are a rare breed of two-album bands for me, in that I do not prefer either and actually like them both. A lot. In most two-album-band scenarios, I will either really like the first one and the second album just doesn't measure up, or really appreciate the newer album for its growth and feel kind of distant from the first. In this case, one thing that I can say, is that I hear a significant difference between the two pieces of work, but I'm interested in them both. It's kind of like having a cool velveteen jumper to change into after wearing other cool clothes to work all day or something. Ok. so that is a boring example. But the point is that it's great to have options.

The first album, Wondervisions, (2011) ignites like a slow match with the opening track, Welcome- Begin which kicks off the musical journey in realistic fashion by the sounds of electric guitar tuning, and feedback, leading into the layered-beats-over-guitar-sound that IS Delicate Steve. Next comes The Ballad of Speck and Pebble, which entirely makes me feel like I'm longboarding down the Santa Monica Pier and I've never even been there. But I feel like it's really cute that they sing those sing-songy notes over top of the same beat like we all really do when we hear our favorite song. Working to explain something, it just seems like this album continues to unfold a partnership with the listener that asks him to listen, but doesn't beg, and I think that is what is most endearing. Each track takes on a patient expectation, building from a mellow guitar foundation, like a dream's soundtrack, and into a more explosive punch-line as its story unfolds. And because there's no words (pretty much), you can put in your own, or just appreciate that there aren't any, and that is pretty cool too. Words can be constrictive and without them there is so much potential for beauty and interpretative glory through our own lense. The church aroma and opening tones of Z Expression totally inspire me. It's some deep shit. It's like...someone getting you, or I guess, feeling a moment of empathy, so..maybe you getting them, but it's definitely some instance where you hold hands. It ends vulnerably both in sound and listener facade and then leads into Don't Get Stuck (Proud Elephants) which I think is one of my favorites all-around. It's a deep breath. It's an open door. It's the bootstraps of the album; it says, we are not giving up, and it offers some hope, for what is to come for all of us I think, and it quite literally picks it up. Yes, in tempo, but in spirit, and I think I always feel encouraged when I hear it. And theoretically, this makes sense, as the song's title (Don't Get Stuck (Proud Elephants) ) offers some of the best advice in its essence. It should be noted that I always think of the little elephants walking in a line in the Jungle Book when I see the title. Not surprisingly comes along Butterfly as this album really does feel like a fantasmal journey from which we all blossom out of a cocoon like a beautiful, just-listened-to-our-first-Delicate-Steve winged wonder. Except it seriously keeps happening, every time, and hasn't gotten old.

Then, there's the second album, Positive Force (2012), which is altogether more psychedelic. I, for one, am way down with that. Like many sophomore projects, the structure is more focused, and also more robust. There's a recipe apparent, woven like marble cake, first with the poignant and identifiable sound of waning guitars, and infused with bass-y beats and plenty of percussion that really leave a good taste in your mouth. Greeted by synthesized density, and enveloped early by the warmth and positivity of "Ramona Reborn," you feel at peace with the title of this record. "Wally Wilder" wanes next, sunbathing you in alliteration and upbeat snuggles that make you feel like you should definitely be dancing in Keds across a checkered floor. (I'm fairly certain I Just Kapowski'd the Max...because that's what "cool" means deep down in my childhood.) To be honest, the first unexpected twist follows next, as Two Lovers appeals to the sentimental and the sensual, and leans towards pop-rock utilizing some of the band's only audible lyrics. The tones of video games pitchy foundation carry us through Big Time Receiver into the trippy mindfuck that is Touch and into the very pretty title track. Maybe I'm subconsciously swayed by its title, but Love comes next (marriage, baby carriage, etc)...and it's one of the best. The four-minute-twenty-second Redeemer climbs around the high notes and warms you up for Afria Talks to You which is dance-party-ready and upbeat, crossing into the pop-sounding genre of a four-count rhythm under a guitar singing you a love story. Has music has ever taken you to a place where you're just like- how do I hug you and how are you intangible? Luna feels like you're floating in space when you listen to it, so I guess its celestial title has some bearing. All else I'll say on this piece of art is that the waning slide guitar in the track, Love reminds me that love is beautiful in highs and lows, and we all need this reminder sometimes. So thank you, Delicate Steve. For everything.

_____
I started writing this over a month ago to prepare for tomorrow's show at Subterranean, but I've been so nervous to discuss something that has been so personal and timely in my individual evolution. I think that it's worth your Monday to show up tomorrow. There's two openers, and the show starts at 8pm. Please do yourself a favor.

old haiku 3

Upon further inspection, I think this notebook is from 2009. And I think all of these were from an Ashland bus ride. Here is another.

if the shoe does fit
i hope you'll tie it tightly
never let it drop.

old haiku 2

Found in an old notebook.

babies scream; wives yell
maybe at least for right now
im ok lonely.

old haiku 1

I found an old notebook with some scribbly haikus. I'll put a few up on the blog once in awhile to keep it spicy. Here is one:

Pays in all nickels
Smellin super funkified
My seat is his john.

The top 5 reasons to tweak out about GMO frankenfish

Ok, so I get that with all the recent media exposure to food triangles, and general misconception that healthy foods are super expensive, that scientists and sociologists alike are looking for answers to the future of our planet's health. Thinking globally, and acting locally is what we are supposed to do. So when the FDA approved genetically modified Atlantic salmon, developed by MA-based company Aquabounty, to go to the final stages of research before it hits the market here in early 2013, it raised many questions regarding the labeling of GMO products, as well as how this will affect the natural habitat and genetics of wild salmon, and therefore, the salmon that ends up on our grocery shelves and in our restaurant kitchens.

Aquasalmon, as it is being labeled, is comprised of DNA material from Chinook salmon, as well as the lesser known ocean pout, eel's cousin, that together allow the fish to produce growth hormones year-round, instead of just during the warm-weather months that their natural salmon brethren and sisterhood allow. This is supposed to not only increase the size of the fish produced, but also cut production costs simultaneously. The biggest fear is, and has always been, what if these superfish escape their pens and mate with wild salmon, therefore jeopardizing the entire food chain? If this goes through, the GMO salmon will be the first modified animal-based product to hit the U.S. food market. Dating back to a NY Times article in 2002, they note that the salmon "would sit alongside genetically engineered corn and potatoes, which have been available for several years." Since the inception of GMO corn and potatoes, they have been controversial on the topics of health and long-term effects of unnatural food consumption, and especially in regards to the visibility that the products, are, in fact, genetically modified. This is because U.S. regulations do not require GMO foods be labeled as such in the stores. But when has anyone ever said that leaving out information wasn't lying? Ask any boyfriend - it is. It kind of seems to me that GMO foods are a huge chunk of information that has been left out and makes the story not quite right- they want you to think it's all ok and they don't negatively effect your body, and saves you money in the long run, but do they even know for sure? And shouldn't we as consumers have the right to at least know where the stuff comes from that we put into our bodies? If they were so sure, wouldn't they slap a label on it and be proud of this revolutionary product?

This is where the class-war also comes into play, as researchers say this will drive down the cost of salmon, a very healthy protein alternative to what most Americans can regularly afford. Dangling healthy options in front of the lower classes who couldn't previously afford this fish almost guarantees a whole new profitable market, and at a rapid growth, too, with how quickly these fish are supposed to repopulate. Further, these farmed "frankenfish," as they are being called by the salmon-poser opposers, will be raised in a Net pen system. This bodes for water contamination as well. According to the Wild Salmon Center, "Net pen salmon are also hosts for disease and parasites like sea lice, which attack wild salmon during their migrations. To confront the sea lice, salmon farmers use antibiotics and pesticides, which flow into the ecosystem as well." Doesn't sound like anything I'd want to ingest...I'd rather just stick with the natural kind that we already have?

To me it's just most disturbing that once these frankenfish get to market , that consumers will not know what they are purchasing; whether they are buying the recently-rejuvenated-off-the-endangered-species-list wild salmon that boosts Omega-3's and lowers cholestrol or, this mix of weird salmon and eely-giant-weird-scary-fish-beef that hasn't been around long enough to even know exactly what it does.

If they're going to put this through to market, supposedly to be confirmed 60 days from December 21, 2012, according to the FDA, it will be the face of a new generation of food for the U.S. Personally, I'm totally tweaked out about this and what it means for our future. Here's some reasons I think you should be too.

1. OCEAN POUT sounds like the saddest/ grossest thing to eat

No one likes a party pooper, who wants to ingest something born pouty? Sounds like energy I don't want flowing through my system. Also - they look super disgusting and slimy. Plus I just think of those 2 evil eels from The Little Mermaid, who are sworn enemies FOR LIFE.

2. FRANKENFISH: The Movie

When there is a B-movie based on the true events of a GMO snakehead fish in MD overpopulating a pond and forcing local people to kill them all out of fear of what it would do just to the Chesapeake Bay watershed. The snakehead fish is known to be aggressive, and is able to walk on land for brief periods of time. WHAT THE HECK. Before we know it, the Aquasalmon will be walking the land, coming to your door, asking for money. Seriously. They are going to turn into the new Sierra Club beggars downtown, even, taking jobs from our idealistic youth.

3.

Why is now the time?

This has been a discussion for ages, and now, animal-based GMO's are ok. Why now? The topic still remains a serious environmental concern, in relation to the potential effects on wild salmon. And after working for years to get those same wild salmon off the endangered species list, why is now the time we're ok with risking going fully backwards with that? I guess this also applies to- hey, how about let's avoid all use of franken-anything , now, and in the future? I think we can all agree it's never worked out well. (Insert Al Franken joke here)

4.

If this is true...

Do you want to be a monster? What if you didn't even know you were ingesting monster? AH! SO SCARY

5. This could change the GMO labeling outcome forever.

We could really come to a negotiation on what this means with the FDA. If we demand that GMO food gets labeled through our voting power, it will change the face of health forever. Having the choice to buy natural products, when labeled correctly, will shift supply and demand and allow our farmers to grow without the use of pesticides and affordable GMO animal feed that effects the whole food chain. If we don't use this GMO salmon discussion to catalyze an actual change in the transparency of our food system and where our food comes from, it's like we are asking for health risks, and ain't nobody got time for that!

Straight Flintstone'ing It

So what happens when your feet stop running? In general...do you just have to hope you're in a good enough spot to stay there? Do your legs get trampled by your own momentum, therby veering you off the road? Could you cramp up and just charlie horse that bitch off the road? Smash into something or total the piece altogether? Or like- what if Barney got hammered and sprained his ankle and couldnt passenger-sprint? Like, does Pebbles have to step up? I dunno, it just seems to me that that cartoon is full of shit. If there are giant dinosaurs flying around, it just seems like you'd obviously fly. And there were those huge brontosauruses at work that they slid down after clocking out, that helped to enhance boulder-shifting and slate rock'ing productivity-- and even if they were "trained"... but if they were "herbivores," then they should have "used them to get around." And still, even though I get that it's a form of exercise, the whole running in full sprint to make a car go that is made out of ROCKS and wood seems about impossible unless you're Magnus or whatever. Those stones look heavy as shit. Just being able to turn them one rotation alone seems like a lie, a lie placed to run children straight into slander-swaddled naps, leaving 60's moms more free to smile randomly for no reason, high on monochromatic pills and oven gas, or maybe to get ready to coat the sink in comet, slam vodka, sew on some boy scout patches, or whatever they did when the kids didn't distract them. No matter what, I just know that shit is FALSE. No way you can just run until you don't, especially when you have momentum, which happens more than anyone would like to admit.

Maybe I just know from experience. For awhile my brakes didn't work on my bike and I was still chillin around on it like that was cool because ...I guess I thought it was? Like if I just paid close enough attention to traffic and wore closed toed shoes it would be fine. Well...those closed-toed shoes turned into ripped-open-toe Vans from dragging my feet so hard on the concrete. Once I almost smashed into a Cadillac that slow-rolled a stop sign, full-force. The driver slammed on his brakes when he saw me and was like...holding up his hand, as if to tell me to stop...and I was trying, but I just ...couldn't. I was sprinting and shuffling my feet to try to slow down as he approached, dragging my toes as I just coasted through the intersection, as if I didn't care. The guy looked super pissed- like- "who do you think you are? Fred Flintstone?" I would have turned back around to apologize but I was pretty far away by then. He definitely gave me the death eyes though, as i soared past...which I suppose are better than death-crash-into-my-body-with-vehicle-eyes. Either way, I saved up and got my brakes fixed on my next paycheck...and even though I ate beans for like, all my meals that week, it was worth it to save my life, and my toes. I just hope somewhere, there's a probably-rich, Cadillac-owning black man writing a blog about a dumbass white chick in overalls who thought she was too good to stop at a stop sign.

Since the big fix, I have since quit Flinstone'ing it...with my feet on my bike at least, and the rest of the time, I try to catch it before it's too late. Because, well... isn't Flinstone'ing it some kind of Carrie-Bradshaw-trapeze-y, generally existential, metaphor for life? Where we all just push until we can't, and sometimes field some dirty looks along the way? But most importantly, it's that we need to know when to stop so that our momentum doesn't send us crashing right into dry-hangover-heaving hard enough to piss your pants at your nine-to-five. And while we can't just fix our brakes in real life, we can acknowledge our needs and adjust our actions....and just slow down. Even if the cost is high upfront, it is probably the reward we're seeking anyway, right? It's really just one of life's many lessons on knowing when to fold 'em, knowing when to walk away I guess.

Secret, Secret- I got a secret!

"Anonymity is one of greatest assets of being online. Plenty of people use it as a shield to say whatever they want about anyone else without repercussions." - Drew Magary

Are there even secrets anymore? It used to be that secrets were the things hidden inside life's hardcover copy of The Fountainhead, or the cat's eye in a bag of clay marbles. The special edition record you've been searching for, still in the packaging; the frosted mini-wheat with both sides covered in sugar, they were a gift. They have separated friends from really good friends, provided leverage across business & politics, and goddamnit, most especially, offered privacy in artistic creativity. Is it not something important through creative production to leave a little mystery, or room for growth, surrounding characters who have been poofed out of our brains? Before Twitter, Facebook, and blogging, did kids in the 50's really need to find out who the real Batman was underneath the mask? Maybe we were just trained on the 5w's in school, and perhaps Law & Order has shown us that curiosity may not, in fact, kill the cat, but stop it at the very last second from getting violently shanked, raped, or knocked out by a chloroform rag, but hey, that's the generation we are from.

Facebook asks us what's on our minds; as a society, our responses to now are split unevenly and unfavorably between... either much smarter, or much dumber, than our brains' free-flow, under oppression of the 140-character mark, and above all we validate each others' voyeurism and egos through thumbs ups, comments, retweets, photo tags, checking people in at a fucking restaurant, or publicly making plans when we all know you have Chloe's number and coulda texted just texted her. Don't no one care you're going to see Snow White on Tuesday besides Chlo, yo. Except your MOM, who "likes" it and while she was on your page she also saw that pic of you in your bra, dancing on a bar, taking a body shot in an old photo that just resurfaced from Spring Break '04, because someone figured out how to use a scanner (those days in real life are so Dickens: the best of days, the worst of days). Well mom is not stoked, your old churchy neighbor is your facebook friend, and, shouldn't you have some self-respect? Don't you wish you just texted now? But it doesn't really matter, if it wasn't this time it would be the next. Your mom will continue to snoop, and did snoop throughout the past, and she's not even in our generation, so ... what I'm saying is, are we all just way too fucking nosey?!

This is really all inspired by the great reveal of Twitter's Wizard of Grand Blanc, to be honest. The legendary 'shup-wielding, 'bring-driving, Applebee's-dining, cold one- chugging, Karl. Welzein, you guys. Ok...you may know him as @dadboner. No one gets more steamed than him. Besides me. About the fact that someone (Drew Magary of Deadspin) decided to bust out his sweet sleuth badge and crush everyone's hopes and dreams. I get it- on March 8, 2012, when the foreshadowing & flirty lead-in article was released, Welzein had over 50,000 followers; all of whom had curiosity about whether or not this dude was real. And wouldn't 50,000 people love to know? And know you, Drew Magary? Then, on March, 12, 2012, my heart got two sizes too small; when Karl Welzein, @dadboner, was revealed to be writer/comedian Mike Burns. NOOOOOO! I immediately - curiously- crept on his personal twitter page (@pizzanachos69) and tons of REAL PEOPLE I KNOW follow him, are friends with him, and in this moment-boom! The magic is GONE. Seriously? Fake-dadboner-dude performs and pals up with people ive sloppily swapped spit, tobacco pipes, and/or pizza slices with at 3 am? How is this fair?

Look, I don't know Mike Burns. He rules from what I can see, but I'm pissed about this Drew Magary guy. Why'd you have to go and ruin all the fun? Case of @dadboner envy? Didn't want someone else to crack this fucking case NO ONE WANTED CRACKED, first? We all wanted it to be some kinda-nasty dude in a deep-red, salsa-stained velour polo shirt, with his belly showing at the bottom, sharing sheer emotion, over-Americanism, and genuine ridiculousness!! No one wanted it to be a working L.A. comic who goes to normal bars (not just Applebee's), receives adoration from people (isn't mostly hated by everyone mentioned), and who isn't going through a marital separation (not sure where Mike Burns stands on this- but- I know he's not separated from Anne Welzein, Karl's wife). Sure, he is from Michigan, loves the Lions & Bob Seger, according to Magary, but ...who can say no to Night Moves? I don't know, you guys, I was beside myself. This dude Mike obviously did not want to be found out either since Magary had to dress up like Carmen Sandiego to find him. This isn't fuckingDeepthroat, MAGARY!! You didn't need to rip off the virtual fatsuit and unclip the rockin pony so heartlessly, dude.

I do realize in typing this up, that I too, am devaluing Karl Welzein's former entity, but the secret has been broken to the general public before I've raised my voice, so inherently I am breaking no secrets.

Currently, on May 25, Welzein is around 78,000 followers - this guy's not a dying trend- and I'd guess his number of followers spiked due to the buzz around this reveal across the internet community. I'm actually pretty stoked for this Mike Burns fellow. He is really funny, and on my one hand covered in glitter and happiness, I tip my hat to Magary for helping to gain this comic some notoriety, even if unwarranted. In my other, witch-claw-ridden hand full of ingrown sharks' nails, my hat has has poop in it and is on fire. I liked @dadboner as a safe unknown, one that I wasn't quite sure what it meant, but I still had expectations invested in it, you know? I think because most of the things in that category of life are scary, I embraced this as a lighthearted laugh I could count on. That was then, and now, in the post-March-12-era, I'm just like, whatever, Mike Burns. Who are you, really? (Answer: @pizzanachos69) Bottom line: secrets, secrets, WERE some fun, and breaking secrets hurt someone. Keep your secrets close, and if you want them to stay that way, anyone who knows Drew Magary far as fuck away from them.