Feel Good Lost: February 2011

And suddenly once again, the world is by another album announcing by the almighty Radiohead. The King of Limbs will be out this Saturday in digital format and then hard print later on in May. It comes no surprise to those who love the band that the public knows almost nothing about this album. There isn't a tracklist to be found and save for a few grainy youtube video scattered about, there's no a single clue to what any of the songs on the new album sound like. Why might this be? For starters, Radiohead is a pretty smart group of blokes. Not just in the well read sense either, but business savvy as well. The way they released In Rainbows a few years ago blew everyone's top hats clear off. Radiohead knows that selling music these days is not about closing the deal on the greatest total number of people. It's just about the people that care. That's exactly who they're catering with this release, which was absolutely true for In Rainbows as well. People are going to scoop up this deluxe "newspaper album" like free money, despite its $200 price tag. And that's going to completely baffle the record labels, who only believe the public want things for free....

What's this new album going to sound like? Well I'm going to go ahead and hedge my bets around the lines of Kid A pt. II. In all my earnest enthusiasm for this band, I keep pretty regularly with Thom's Office Charts, which is the corner of the interest where he regularly posts his loves that are currently blasting though his speakers. And Thom Yorke has been loving some bloopy yet gentle, futuristicly dubby, vaguely paranoid sounds. So let it be said, you heard it here first. Kid A Pt. II. Honestly part about it all will be gritting my teeth, hunkering down, and pushing it to the back of my head until Saturday. But I said the same thing about Spring Break a week ago, so I guess that's just life y'all.

Is creativity inherently a selfish thing? I'm propped up here in the library looking around at all these books, thinking about how in the world could someone write so much about something. One of the most terrifying things in the whole world sometimes is the blank canvas. That's not because of its honesty, although you could make a case for that. I'm leaning more towards the freedom swing of things and the school of thought that explains how too much freedom inhibits decision making. I believe that to be absolutely true and its a concept that's absolutely fascinating to think about, especially in regards to art and our consumer culture. The simplicity of life as it has been for most of history is slowly on the decline, thanks to the flood of options available. With 38 varieties of just about everything, its easy to believe that the perfect choice is out there somewhere. The same things true for art. It's so easy to get all keyed up and flustered in the face of a blank canvas because holy smokes, it can turn into just about everything. But the remedy is slowly sinking in. Some choices are better than others, but the most important choice to make is one of action. Not choosing is not an option! That right there is what should be kept in mind when staring into the giant yawning pit of options and uncertainty. And everyone's afraid of the unknown, in some form or fashion. But why?

But what about the unknown is so terrifying? The most fear stricken panic I've ever endured happened in one of the oddest and most unlikely circumstances. Spring break senior year of high school and I'm twenty miles off shore in Costa Rica, roasting in the sun. We're trolling for marlin and doing an awful job, so the monotony and beaming rays from above have flatten us out in various positions of loungitude around the boat. The captain*owner of our third world yacht we're sprawled out on gets radioed by his brother that there's a pod of dolphins a few miles away and its a sight worth seeing. We reel in the lines and rev the engine. Pretty soon, we spot the scene. A gaggle of tuna has apparently crossed paths with a herd of dolphins and the later have pursued chase. Birds are divebombing from above and the moving spot of ocean is a rage of activity. Senor Captain steers us ahead of the pack and suggests we dive in to get a better look. Having not done nary a thing all morning, my man Kevin Patrick and I elect to take the plunge. The boat puttles off, leaving us behind and we've been bobbing for maybe three minutes before the bombardment smacks us. The tuna shoot past like silver bullets far pretty far below the surface. They're not the huge kind but they're still fast as lightning. It made for a beautiful spectacle but wasn't nearly as interesting as the folks in hot pursuit. When the dolphins caught up to us, life got real interesting real fast. I would love to be a dolphin because they seemingly have fun doing whatever they're doing. And what they were doing was beating us up for a few brief very exciting spell. We're floating in the water and dolphins are zipping past us in a furious yet incredibly happy manner, jumping out the water, ducking and dodging, zipping, zoodling, turning around sideways, and catching some tuna. It was like standing in the wake of the most couped up class of kindergardeners as they're finally let out for recess. Barraged by a herd of fun. The time was brief but incredibly exhilarating and pretty soon, they passed us by in the name of lunch and we were left in their wake, bobbing like we were before. Except now alone, floating twenty miles off shore, maybe 500 yards from the boat in two thousand feet of water. That's when life got terrifying. If you ever want to comprehend your own existence, star at the stars at night and float in the open ocean. I was suddenly overwhelmed by staring at the deep blue underneath me, thinking about everything down there and what might have been following the dolphins and my mind just floored it. Some monstrosity could just shoot out of the depths, pluck me out of the water in one fell swoop like you would a vegetable in Whole Foods and it wouldn't be a thing at all. Life would go on, the beast would be back lurking the depths, the dolphins continuing their merry chase and I'd be dead. I swam back to the boat as fast as I knew how, praying that I wasn't giving off any seal energy, and ruminating on the fact that there is a time and a place for imagination and the wandering mind and there between the sun and the wide open ocean was not the time. But the best way to overcome fear is to laugh and tackle it, so we'll see about next time...