James Mack's Weblog

Last night, I went to a Matson Jones show at the Aggie Theater in Fort Collins. The first thing you see, hear, or feel about Matson Jones is the pair of cellos that define half of this quartet. This duo is skillfully blended with an upright bass and drum kit, and the sonorous tone of the instruments are polarized by the piercing, distorted voices of the two female vocalists. I initially feared that such a novel combination would tire quickly, handcuffed by the inflexibility of the rhythm instruments which had fiercely grabbed my attention just moments earlier. Yet, they manage to escape the appellation of "one trick pony" through creative arrangements and dissident lyrics. And there's something simply infectious about four bass lines.

The night was well supported by a cache of local bands, including D. Biddle, Munly and the Lee Lewis Harlots, and another band that I regretfully missed the name of, for they weren't officially on the bill. Munly was particularly interesting, a high energy anachronism who seemed to be trying to keep one foot in the wild wild west and another in the goth/punk movement. They certainly gave Matson Jones a run for their money as the highlight of the show. Our $6 tickets were low in cost, but high in value.

And because I have a few photos that I don't want cluttering the front page, I'll drop the rest of my experience into the extended portion.

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The life of Nick Drake, by most accounts, ended far too early. A purveyor of introspective rock/folk in the late sixties and early seventies, he was intensely shy and self-critical, and seemed to always be just shy of breaking through to success. He died in 1974 due to an overdose of antidepressants he had been prescribed, opening speculation of suicide, despite reports from his friends that he was getting progressivly happier in the weeks before his death. The speculation was fueled, however, by the content of his songwriting, such as these lines from "Fruit Tree":

Fame is but a fruit tree
So very unsound
It can never flourish
'til its stalk is in the ground

and these from "Pink Moon":

I saw it written and I saw it say
Pink moon is on its way
And none of you stand so tall
Pink moon gonna get ye all
And it's a pink moon

The truth behind his death will likely never be known, but his music has enjoyed a posthumous revival in recent years. Initially featured on a Volkswagen ad, and later part of the Garden State soundtrack, he finally entered popular consciousness. His music is not out of place in today's music scene, and might be likened to more recent singers such as Iron & Wine and Jeff Buckley (who happens to be another similarly premature loss). Perhaps his posthumous success will provide some sort of redemption, but if nothing else, he left us with more than we had the day he was born.

His story also serves to remind me just how precariously I'm often perched between satisfaction with what I've done and the drive to improve upon it. Nick Drake habitually fell upon the darker side of that line, unable to find value in what he had done within his lifetime. I believe a certain amount of dissatisfaction is healthy, but like most attributes, it must be kept in check by finding pride in my accomplishments, whether or not they happen to be perfection.

I'll close with the lyrics of one of Nick Drake's songs which ended up on the Garden State soundtrack. I highly recommend that you try to get yourself a copy of the song itself, because reading the lyrics of a song is like reading half the pages of a book. You get an idea of what's going on, but the experience is incomplete.

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To date, I haven't really given any direct musical recommendations, despite the fact that I spend a lot of time searching for and enjoying new music. Perhaps I'm a bit shy, and don't really want to make too firm a stand for something that somebody else may not appreciate. Plus, I'm sure there's resistance to scribing this down with a bit of permancence, because I'm likely to look back in the future and think "I can't believe I recommended that."

Therefore, this post is a bit of an experiment. As part of the perpetual amorphousness that charactertizes this weblog, I'm going to go out on a limb and make my first recommendation in Stars' album "Set Yourself on Fire". I know it's cliche, but the easiest way to describe Stars to the unfamiliar is by comparing them to another popular indie band; Death Cab For Cutie. Like Death Cab, it's clean and mellow electronic rock set against vocals with an uncanny ability to stir emotions through subtle emphasis and suspense. The twist is that Stars sports both a male and female vocalist, and they play against each other quite reminiscent of Ben Gibbard's work on The Postal Service. It's catchy, fun, and well-executed, and I recommend it.

Something which isn't quite so out of place in this context is a mention of song lyrics. I'm sure a few of you will figure out why.

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I promised a number of people, including myself, that I'd give a recount of my trip to Cape Canaveral and Kennedy Space Center for the New Horizons launch upon my return. It's a week later than I had hoped to deliver on that promise, but I'm sure the delay will be soon forgotten.

In summary, it was an amazing experience, and one that has re-energized my enjoyment of the work that I do and given me a great deal of personal satisfaction in the work I have done. Before the launch, everything seemed abstract and escoteric. Who cared the smallest iota about interstellar dust? But now, after all the media attention, I need only mention one thing: "We're going to Pluto!".

I can't thank the SDC group enough for the company during the week down in Cocoa Beach. Nothing beats hanging out with a bunch of like-minded engineers and physicists, especially those who are laid back and fun loving. You made my trip.

So, without further adieu, I offer you the recount of my adventures. You may need to click the "Read more..." link to see the rest.

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