Who, you say? He’s the extremely underrated bassist for the band Ride, who you may well remember because I often mention via their brilliant 1992 song “Leave Them Far Behind” or their recent reactivation over the last five years. While the two vocalist/guitarists from the band (Andy Bell and Mark Gardener) have both had impressive solo careers, Queralt remained in the background, only resurfacing a few years back with fellow bandmate, drummer Loz Colbert, on an instrumental side project called ID. He’s just dropped his first solo album, Swallow, in mid-June.
I admit I wasn’t sure what I was expecting with this record, but I was definitely not expecting what sounds frighteningly like a Lush album! Part of it of course is that Lush’s Emma Anderson — someone who’s also recently resurfaced with a solo project — joins on vocals for a handful of songs. The record definitely has that reverb-heavy feel to it, but interestingly has moments of Radiohead influence as well, such as the strange ambience of “Mission Creep” or the rattling noise of “Messengers”.
I’ve been returning to this one a lot lately, quickly earning a spot as a writing soundtrack!
I really have no idea how this band passed me by for six years! Perhaps I’d heard one or two songs on KEXP, but somehow I never got around to checking them out until this last weekend, when their first album was reissued. And man, this band is totally in my wheelhouse: sludgy, noisy echoey shoegaze that’s equal parts Lush, MBV, Curve and maybe even a bit of Boston indie in there as well (especially Mistle Thrush and Swirlies). And Lush’s Miki Berenyi even shows up on one of their songs! It all screams this is now a part of your permanent writing soundtrack collection to me.
Yeah, I’m going to have to investigate this band further, because I am hooked.
Believe it or not I did not listen to Revolver this time out while I did our taxes! Just…didn’t feel in the mood, I guess. But yes, everything is done and away until next year. Who knows what they’re going to look like then?
In the meantime, I’ve been revisiting some music from 2001-2002 — the Belfry Years, specifically the albums that were on heavy rotation during the writing of A Division of Souls, which I’m currently ‘remastering’. [Long story short if you don’t follow my writing blog: It’s been ten years this September since I first self-published the book, so I thought I’d do a tenth anniversary special edition. I’m currently doing a bit of revision and clean-up where needed, fixing up the cover a bit, and perhaps adding some extra bonus things. And yes, I will most likely be doing this for The Persistence of Memories and The Balance of Light as well.]
So what’s popped up that I’m enjoying once more?
I’d forgotten how much I loved Zero 7’s Simple Things! It’s a lovely record that feels a bit like Morcheeba with a hint of Air and “Destiny” is just a wonderful track.
The Chameleons UK shows up on my playlists partly because I love the track “Swamp Thing” so much, but this 2001 album was an amazing return to form after a long hiatus for the group. Highly recommended.
Big Wreck has always been one of my unsung favorites. They’re one of those bands that are absolutely amazing yet have never had a huge following. Loud and extremely melodic, they’re definitely not alt-metal, but they’re not just another 90s alt-rock band either. I highly recommend checking out all their work.
I kinda sorta liked Coldplay’s “Yellow” when it came out, but I wasn’t completely sold on their lighter sound. I even passed up picking up their second album A Rush of Blood to the Head until I heard them do “Politik” live on the Grammys in early 2003. That’s when I realized just how amazing “God Put a Smile Upon Your Face” is, and how this band has a lot more going on than just radio friendly fare.
It occurred to me the other day that it’s been twenty years since I’d moved away from my hometown in Massachusetts. For some people that might be just another life event, but for me it was something pretty big. Until that day in March 2005 (the 6th, to be exact) I’d always lived in MA, five years of them in Boston, then spending just shy of ten years back at the family house getting my affairs, finances and creativity in some semblance of order. All of that changed near the end of 2004 when I started going out with A. in a long distance relationship, then turning that into frequent road trips down to New Jersey (a little over two hundred miles one way) to spend the weekend. It was a three hour drive but it was totally worth it.
All of that changed in early 2005 when we finally made the decision for me to move down there with her and her roommates. We both felt it was something I’d needed to do, and a long time in coming. I was ready for it, and had been looking to moving on for quite some time. The plan was to move down to NJ and eventually find a place somewhere near her workplace, but that ended up going in an altogether different direction later that summer.
It was a year of a lot of major life changes for me, so I allowed my writing to fall by the wayside for a bit. To wit: moving out of my old hometown, moving away from family, moving in with said girlfriend, springing the question and eventually marrying said girlfriend shortly after, visiting another country (that was not Canada, and which included acquiring a passport and flying on a commercial airline for the first time), doing office work instead of warehouse or retail for the Day Job, and eventually moving to the west coast where we’ve been ever since.
I made the above mixtape the night before I left, even though I dated it to the day I got in the car and drove away. I listened to it a few times on the way down to Jersey along with the other mixes I’d made around that time. The themes of the mix were moving out, moving on, escaping, feeling free, and looking toward the future. Little did I know just how much my life would change in just a few months, but I wasn’t going to complain.
I was just thinking earlier yesterday about how some of my music listening habits tend to be on the fleeting side these days, and how that sometimes bothers me as it feels like don’t allow myself to resonate with these songs as I once did.
It’s definitely not that I’m just not into anything new these days, far from it. My obsessive listening to KEXP (both online and its local terrestrial outlets) has me latching onto new bands and songs all the damn time. No, it’s the sheer volume of it all that distracts me from letting it burrow deep and stay in my head for months at a time. My music brain can only work one way or the other, it seems.
During my ongoing review of my Bridgetown Trilogy playlist, I noticed that may just be the case, especially when it comes to the mixtapes I made at the time. Many of the songs on those tapes from nearly a quarter century ago still play crystal clear in my mind. And why is that? Because this was stuff that got a high amount of repeat play.
It wasn’t just during my writing sessions in the Belfry, either. It was also on my commutes to and from work at Yankee Candle — an almost exact thirty-minute drive from driveway to parking lot meaning I could listen to most of side one of a mixtape or a full album on cassette. It was also during my weekend road trips around New England, whether it was my weekly visits to Boston, local bookstores, or just driving around the back roads in central Massachusetts.
Alas, this is something I haven’t really been able to do all that much these days. Mind you, I am certainly not complaining that my current commute is ten minutes/eight blocks on foot (and shorter if I take the car or bus), but that doesn’t leave me time to listen to my mixtapes or albums I want to listen to.
Instead I’ve been trying to retrain myself to latch onto songs that capture my attention and keep them there for a while. I’m essentially relearning how to listen to the music I love so much, and it’s turning into an interesting experience, to be honest. Not everything completely clicks, but a lot of it is starting to burrow in there like I hope it will.
I’ve been listening to a lot of music from 2000-2001 lately, and this song popped up on my playlist. Blur can be kind of odd at times, but this one’s strange even by their standards. It was a new track to sell up their Best of album that dropped on 30 October 2000, but it pretty much sounds like an extended jam session set in a single key, feedback and all. It might be filler, but it’s also infectious and demands to be cranked up.
Still, one of my favorite songs of theirs, and I absolutely love the oddball video they made for it.
I’ve been going through my music library for the year 2000 to revisit what I would be listening to in the Belfry, and I think I’ve figured out the point where I knew the HMV days were truly over and when the Belfry days kicked into high gear. It’s actually a surprisingly stark line that jives with when I was given the quit-or-be-fired ultimatum from my terrible boss. It’s August of 2000, and by the end of the month I’d be gone.
The Dandy Warhols, Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia, 1 August 2000. Although I’m almost certain I bought this in my final days at HMV and listened to it around that time, I want to say this was an album I spent more time listening to in the Belfry. I wasn’t even the biggest DW fan; by this point I’d heard their earlier hit “Not if You Were the Last Junkie On Earth” for the zillionth time on WFNX and did not like it to begin with, hearing “Godless” turned the tables for me. I remember listening to this one a lot during the summer evenings and weekends while figuring out what I wanted to do with The Phoenix Effect.
Between then and the end of the month, I did pick up a handful of CDs both from the record store and from Newbury Comics — by then my weekly comic book run had started to include a quick stop there to look for things my own store might not carry (or sell cheaper).
Goldfrapp, Felt Mountain, 11 September 2000. I’d left the record store by this point and was just starting at Yankee Candle — a westerly commute instead of an easterly one, and twenty miles shorter at that — but I really didn’t want to disconnect from my weekly accumulation of music. I could just as easily buy copies of my favorite music magazines, CMJ (College Music Journal) and ICE (an industry magazine featuring news on new releases) at Newbury Comics. I think this was one of the first that I bought there after starting the new job.
VAST, Music for People, 12 September 2000. I know I bought this one the same day as the Goldfrapp album (and the Barenaked Ladies album Maroon as well). I’d been a big fan of Jon Crosby’s first album under the VAST moniker and while this one felt slightly more upbeat and less steeped in Nine Inch Nails-esque gloom, it featured some amazing tracks that got a lot of play in the Belfry.
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I actually wouldn’t start writing A Division of Souls for another year and a half, maybe early 2002 after the frustrations brought about by The Phoenix Effect and its sequel The Mihari, which I was writing at the time. The two books do have a lot of similarities to A Division of Souls, however, and it was simply a decision to stop work on both TPE and TM and completely start over from scratch. [Very similar to what I’d done recently with Theadia, actually.]
The music that inspired the project, however, started around this time when I switched day jobs. It wasn’t a clean switch of course, as I actually worked second shift for my first couple of months (3 – 11pm or thereabouts) and wouldn’t move to first shift until sometime in November. It would be around that time when my writing sessions would truly become more stable and frequent, as would my weekly trips to Newbury to pick up new music.
I said I was going to do it and I’m doing it now: I’m currently going through the albums and singles from 2000 onwards as a soundtrack to the Bridgetown Trilogy Remaster Project. I started the revisit on Monday afternoon on my day off with William Orbit’s remixed take on Barber’s Adagio for Strings, one of my all-time favorite classical pieces.
I know, this is sort of an arbitrary place to start and doesn’t really line up with the writing chronology. I’d started and finished The Phoenix Effect (the early ‘demo’ version, if you want to continue the music analogy) but hadn’t yet started writing its aborted sequel The Mihari (that would take place that summer if I’m not mistaken), but the actual day-one of A Division of Souls wouldn’t take place until late 2001 or early 2002.
So why start the relistening at January 2000? Partly because I knew my days were numbered at the record store by then. I still loved the job and wished I could stay there forever, but a) I could definitely see the downturn of the music industry happening in real time, and b) I wasn’t sure how much longer I could handle the store manager without eventually ragequitting. It was also a bit of a weird time musically; grunge had long given way to adult alternative which had given way to meathead alt-metal, and pop was having a huge resurgence with its sugary overproduced electronica.
A lot of music I listened to at the time felt a bit out of place. I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to listen to, because very little of it was resonating with me at a deep level, as it once had just a few years previous. That could very well be due to personal issues and changes, and at the time I was feeling unmoored.
Still, I was willing to see where it all took me. Life changes and all.
Okay, so I have to remind myself that sometimes I don’t need to listen to the entire broadcast day of KEXP when I happen to have the time and access to it. It’s great background music, but by mid-afternoon I start feeling that I’ve lost the plot of what I need to get done. No offense to Larry Mizell Jr — he’s a great afternoon DJ and I pick up a lot of great tunage from him, but sometimes I really should focusing more on, say, my writing session or getting a blog entry done. And I can’t always do that when my favorite station is dropping new things that capture my attention. It’s too easy of a distraction.
This constant connection not only distracts me from my writing work, it also takes away from my ability to occasionally deep-dive into my own library sometimes. I mean, it’s not as if I’m missing out…KEXP stores their show streams for two weeks so I can always listen to that if need be. Point is, I’ve been visiting the old Songs from the Eden Cycle mixtapes and realizing there are some great tracks there from albums I haven’t played in years! I feel it’s far past time to give them another spin.
I know, I know…I’ve been talking about doing this listening habit reset for years and never quite doing so. But considering my decision to make this year about Following Through, perhaps now is that time. Even if it means I have to work out a schedule to create some kind of stability (hey, that’s what my whiteboard schedule is there for). That might not be a bad idea, considering I’ve been feeling the urge to get back to Doing All The Things. Not just the writing projects, but revisiting the 750Words site as well as returning to my drawing. I have the drive and the inclination, I just have to, y’know, do it now.
It’s been quite some time since I’ve actively listened to Radiohead, especially during my writing sessions. During the Belfry days, The Bends and OK Computer would get a lot of play, but the last time I played them a lot while writing was back in 2016 when A Moon Shaped Pool came out. [Has it really been that long since their last album?]
I think part of it is because I was working on different projects at the time. In Rainbows came out when I was writing the trunked Love Like Blood. I’d just started working on the multi-year revision work for the Bridgetown Trilogy when The King of Limbs dropped, but by that time I was obsessing over several other bands and Radiohead kind of fell by the wayside. The ever-increasing gap between albums caused a bit of a distance for me as well.
Now that I’m working on the ADoS remaster, however, I’ve been tempted to do another revisit of those albums. I’ve been a longtime fan literally since “Creep” dropped here in the US in early 1993, and I’ve picked up most of the members’ solo releases as well. Perhaps this is the perfect time!
Walk In Silence 