Hey Beautiful

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Holy giant hammerheads yall
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Counter Smash!!!

Trip to the Aquarium

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The Brotherhood-Live at Third Man records. 

One of the best shows of the 2010

Easily the loudest, now on vinyl. 

Snatch it up now yall, righhhhhht heeeeeeeeere

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Holy smokes yall, I'm not going to bore you with all the reasons why I love snow but plenty of folks right now around the South can tell you quite a few reasons why they can't stand it. Traffic gets backed up, prices shoots up, bones freeze over, ice on the wildshield, everything's colder than Santa  and on and on. What I love about snow besides the stillness is the fact that it puts everyone on the same page, regardless of common distinctions. What car you're driving means nothing when you and the Benz one lane over are heaps stuck in the winter deluge. Of course having a rover or a truck certainly helps the getting around, but that's neither here nor there. But one quality that comes with snow and the wintery months that I've grown to appreciate but still am completely flustered by is the stillness that the cold brings. Snow muffles everything. Life just moves slower. Folks are more intentional about their time outside, exposed to the elements. Getting out of your car and into somewhere nearby gets treated with much more haste than usual because of the cold. But for kids, it's never like this at all. Kids look forward to the snow in a way that's magical almost. That should serve as an inspiration for all us to see the world in a new light, every chance possible. That's too hard for me to do just yet, thanks to being all couped up indoors. For me, stillness and silence is still the enemy. Thank goodness for jumprope, books and a drumset to combat the doldrums. 

Hey Been Trying To Meet You

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The happiest I saw Nashville in 2010 collectively was during the opening bars of "Here Comes Your Man" on the first evening of the Pixies's two night barrage. Of course everyone was in full swoon mode by the last song (take a wild guess yall). There was something so magical about seeing this band play their best album Doolittle in its entirety. The Pixies started out as a college band up in the weird art school reaches of the north, only released three albums, influenced everyone from Nirvana to Radiohead, broke up and then got back together again to suddenly discover that legions of folks across the nation LOVE them to death! DON'T MEAN MAYBE!!!

I Love Gilbert Arenas

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"We're the two best white shooters in the NBA."

-Gilbert Arenas to JJ. Redick

"Why would I endorse the hibachi grill when I am the hibachi grill?” 

-Gilbert Arenas

"He’s not moving to the beat of a different drummer. He’s moving to a different beat.” 

-Eddie Jordan, Washington Wizards Head Coach on Gilbert Arenas

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This song may or may not make the year end list but its pretty stupendous. Reminds me of The Knife if they ever crawled out of their creepy cave and suddenly found themselves on the set of Saturday Night Fever. 

Robyn- Dancing On My Own

Who Dat

Hey yall, what's happening? What's going on the world today? With exams almost long forgotten and the holidays slowly losing its chim chimmery, the dawning of another year in the life of us all is looming large, which poses a fantastic opportunity to celebrate and introspectate (word of the day). Here at the Feel Good Lost Castle, we try to find a harmonious balance in between both polarities, somewhere hovering around the smack dab middle between the far extremes. What's to be learned from 2010? A whole lot, my friends. 2010 has been the year of trysts and meddlings, with many miles traveled, sights seen, lessons learned, visions beheld, insights uncovered, fears relinquished and stories told. I've slowly become so much more aware of the balance between accepting fate*living a life of faith and the ever continual struggle for self improvement and it hasn't been easy. But one thing is for sure, fortune favors the bold. I'm struggling to keep my eyes open right now, which is just the worst because I've procrastinated long enough in spending quality time on here. One thing that I want to happen is a year end list. I wish I had been on the ball in arranging it before 2011 but that's neither here nor there. But its coming, so keep your eyes to the sky and stay tuned. One thing is for sure though. In 2011, I'ma gon break a mirror and make a disco ball the size of the Statue of Liberty's fist.

Boo

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Welcome back magic lovers. 

Pearl Harbor

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A camera was just discovered containing photos of Pearl Harbor that hadn't been developed yet. 

10 battleships, 6 crusiers, 4 destroyers, 188 planes, and 2,408 men were lost in all. 

This is something that should leave us in awe.

SNARL & PONDER

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I'm propped up in the science building, trying to will the door nearby to close itself another inch so that the freezy gusts would subside and my legs might feel the happiness of warmth again. But they're not getting a fighting chance and I've already gotten up twice. Might just have to bear it for the next little bit. I'm looking for any excuse to pack my books up and march home to play drums anyways. Finals week is just the dregs. Nervous energy abounds around campus and there's nothing inspiring about that at all. The library is jampacked with folks who'd normally never be there, as if some ghostly vibe of Academic Excellent would miraculously whisp out from the rows of books around or from the Asian students sitting neaby and pass over them like the ghost of christmas past, blessing them with concentration, a can of smarts, or passing grades. I say good luck with that Jack, with all the noise you're making, you're likely to get kungfued by an aspiring biochemical engineer sitting to the left of you. Who hates you and your girlfriend right now. I'd rather camp out here in the science building, where everyone KNOWS they're getting good grades. The whole ordeal is akin to the gym in the student center the week before spring break, where every slightly pudged, weightedly overslighted sorority gal is laying on a mat doing side to side abs or whatever else Cosmo told them to do in hopes to magically make the cush disappear. Sorry darling, good luck with that swimsuit bod and getting lovehandled in Panama. 

But that's all nonsense.

I'd dare to reckon that not once will I ever hears the likes of a sermon being taught on the Tenth Commandment. How can a lesson be taught to us about Thou Shalt Not Coveting our Neighbor's Goods when our entire Western society is built upon that principle? It's called capitalism. Which isn't a bad thing at all, don't get me wrong. I'm stuck here writing this paper about the ethics behind our healthcare debacle and its pretty fascinating in the least. Before Obama passed the this healthcare bill in March, the United States was the last wealthy, industrialized nation to offer a universal healthcare system to its citizens. Bill Clinton tried to in 1993 but it fell flat on its face on the floor of the Senate, for very good reasons. Too many people thought it would cut into our private sector and disincentivize our healthcare professional. Capitalism promotes competition, which keeps quality up and pushed individuals to become better, harder, faster, stronger in the name of profit and monetary gain. But healthcare is in a mess now because its stuck in the middle between a free market and public funding. Our current system is a incredibly tangled mess between for profits care agencies and public healthcare programs such as Medicare and Medicaid.

Truth be told, ethically speaking we do need a universal healthcare system to take care of our citizens but not one similar to the likes of the rest of the world. In Britain and Canada, doctors are told what they make by the government. There is no reason for them to see any more patients than they have to. Here in the United States, doctors have the potential to make as much money as they want. All it depends upon is how hard they work. That's the beauty of free markets. It encourages competition. But what's beautiful about the market system and democracy its pure heresy and absolutely incompatible in thinking about the soul and our spirituality. You can't manage, manipulate or control spiritual energy. All that's a matter of letting go, relinquishing the self and becoming a part of the flow of life much broader than your own perspective. But waiting on life is hardly a passive approach. I'm not going to not study for exams for goodness sakes. That's getting the old college try, at least for fifteen minutes each day.

But this notion of control, comparing and contrasting dominates our perspective, quite literally in the form of advertising. All commercial advertising is concerned with is convincing us we need things we don't really need, which has most of us hopelessly confused as to what's truly important in this world. I'm shamelessly very much in the thick of it, looking at this guy's Windows computer nearby with utter disdain and inferiority to this here Macbook Pro thats cranking out words at machine gun rate. But I've been blessed to witness the pace of life on how most of the world operates. The level of need in this country as moved to such levels of illusion and sophistication that what are ultimate luxuries elsewhere are absolute necessities here. Here's where my Mum would come in and rage "Yeah but we've EARNED it. We are the greatest country in the world for a REASON." There is no convincing her and Rush otherwise because they're deeply settled in their ways, but that still doesn't detract from the truth at hand.

Our consumerist worldview and its effect on our mental state is going to be the battle of our generation. Research is already starting to show that everything from environmental degradation to the impossibility of bipartisanship in Washington to the significant increase in mental illnesses are a result of our hyperconnected society and the assault of four thousand advertisements on our brain every single day. In the same way the nature world can be polluted by heaps of toxins and garbage, our minds can fall prey to the toxic influence of too much information and its divisiveness.

Back to books but first of course, gruesome tunes. This band Warpaint is still blowing my mind and makes for pretty stupendous, darkly romantic yet completely ambivalent sounding music. These gals sound completely serene in their state of disarray, which is much further along than most folks get about dealing with their problems. If Tame Impala is the hazy day at the beach, Warpaint is the acid trip wandering around the forrest with a flashlight and seeing a BOBCAT! and LOVING IT! Lastly, listen to this song though by the mysterious beirdos Moon Duo. The guitar tone actually conjures up the teasing woodland spirits of Mystery and Surprise. Don't believe me? Find our for yourself.
Faster, onward Econ! Awwwwwway!

Moon Duo-Motorcycle I Love You

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If yall want something fascinating to peruse over, check out this list of paradoxes offer up by Wikipedia. 

{List of Paradoxes | Wikipedia | Continue}

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And listen to Ascent of Everest. Words can't do justice to the emotions conjured up in response to this music. Think epic like Explosions In The Sky but more fairy tale, lost in the woods-esque. Still very grand though. Like witnessing the slow sinking of a beautiful clipper ship. Put the needle in the record and ease into your rocking chair as you sit with your mushroom tea and watch the snow fall. Read these articles too, they're the best I could wrangle up this week. 

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{Difference Wisdom | Overcoming Bias | Continue}

{Solitude and Leadership | The American Scholar | Continue}

{Existential Risks: Analyzing Human Extinction Scenarios | Nick Bostrom | Continue}

Rest

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The perfect state of creative bliss is having power (being 50) and knowing nothing (being 7). 

This would seemingly assure an interesting and successful outcome in just about anything. 

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Kurt Vile- Freeway

Shucks

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Here at the Feel Good Lost castle, we tend to huddle behind our impenetrable fortress walls when the sky goes grey and the wind whips up something fierce. Huddling for warmth, plotting our next maneuvers, introspectioning, reflecting, contemplating, scheming up a storm, being as productive as possible to fend off the winter induced lethargia. But its hard to keep cheer and even harder to stay tropical. My parrot here knows this best. He's having to beak these words out while I dictate and shiver over here in the corner. Fingers are no good for typing at the moment. They can barely clutch the whiskey bottle. I blame this mighty thin bear skin. Sir Thomas could have left the cave door open.

 Yes indeed, trials and tribulations abound here in frigid reaches of Arctica.
Studying is out of the question, unless its McLuskerson's Guide to Spontaneous Combustion.
Good grief.

This best come to a halt before every wheel rattles off the apple cart. 

But never fear, spirits abound even under polar duress.  

Nothing a half contained conflagration in the stone hearth. and some Van Halen can't solve. 

RUNNING WITH THE DEEEEEVIL

The beginning of Atomic Punk would be a great opener for a DJ set, if you didn't know.

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This video is such a tease right now.

Actually ran into this guy walking down Broadway in New York late this summer. 

I can't get enough the stripped down psychedelia of the song and video.

Where in high heaven can you find a shirt like that?

Not here atop this snowy mountain peak, thats for sure.

Haha

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Thoughts

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Vegas doesn't need another song and dance performance in town. It's a outdated model. The folks in the charge of the evening affairs there have their fingers on a pulse that's slowly losing steam, even if that generation has been their highest rollers. Instead of another Help! or magic act, Vegas oughta get Cirque de Soleil to do an Avatar production, which would blow some minds clear off everyone in attendance.

Psychedelia isn't about melody, notes, chords, or lyrics. It's about sensation, something holistic or for the whole of the body rather than ears or mind. Think of it as mad noise that paints a landscape or provokes the imagination deeper than the surface feel of a party. It's heady by nature but only in the sense that it takes an conscious effort to move past the initial confusion and closer towards the heart of it all. And not all of it is good, absolutely true. I can't stand early Animal Collective. But folks like Boris and Tame Impala? Blistering.

Kyle Singer is probably the least hated Duke star of all time.

Happy Thanksgiving, yall

I See You

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Game recognizes game.

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It's a stupid, dangerous, hellish world... But don't let it frighten you.

-Hunter S. Thompson

I See You

Don't Don't Stop

The past few months have been blessed with a bunch of new releases from artists near to my heart. It's a beautiful thing but almost too overwhelming, given how uncalled for it gets me going First step towards recovery is admitting there's a problem though right? Isn't that's what alcoholics learn after the introductionary session? My ability to focus on anything else may be in the later stages of hopeless, but  I might as well lash it all out onto here for now and hope for the best in a later day. Here goes the first of a few.

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There is no better uplift from the dread that colours our nation's dour perspective at the moment than !!!'s new album, dubbed Strange Weather Isn't It? While most of the bands that poke at the world of dance music do so in a very tentative, cute manner, Chk Chk Chk menaces. With only four albums in 10 years of making music, everything they release is bound to be thought out and intentional, like all art should be They also emerged out of New York at a point where folks began witnessing a rejuvenation of punk throughout the city, with bands like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Death From Above 1979 and LCD Soundsystem making sounds more rhythmic and colourful but no lag in energy. Chk Chk Chk seemingly came out champion of the noise dubbed dance punk and they've been on a tear ever since.  Strange Weather is their fourth album and its a furious joy filled onslaught of a darker but grander, more imaginative colour than anything they've ever done, mostly due to 1. the fact that it was recorded in the notoriously dark atmosphere of Berlin and 2. the death of best friend and drummer Jerry Fuchs, who tragically died from falling down an elevator shaft in Brooklyn. Even with the serious undertone the party still hasn't gone anywhere, its actually been nurtured by life's trials and tribulations and flourished into a sonically expansive dystopia of Groove & Lash. The album's philosophy can get hammered down to the natural world's basic principles of motion. Every action has an equal but opposite reaction. The demands of bad day makes you want to dance even harder.  But the most interesting experiences can't ever be summed up so simply...

Los Angeles and you're poolside, propped against the glass balcony watching the orange glow lazily settle itself over the horizon line and give way to the blinking city lights glittering down below. The party's underway but a touch to the tongue a while back has removed everything casual from merrymaking happening around. The folks carousing about all fashionably in the evening's easy breeze can't tell the difference, even in conversation but life's suddenly turned heavy. Sunglasses try to hide the extent of fear suddenly realized, as the regular patterns of the social and physical landscape have fallen by the mind's wayside, replaced by the most terrifying mind explanding tsunami of psychedelic energy. Mortality and mindless social hullabaloo fall by the wayside as the timeless cosmic vein of consciousness slowly pauses in its transmissioning through millenniums to bless the now verdant mainframe that was once your mind. Another beer finds its way to you but this hardly registers as the onslaught continues. Thoughts and fears from the material world flash by and then dissolve as you slowly ease into the higher dimension. Your circadian rhythm slows to crawl, like an astronaut teetering at the edge of black hole. A smile creeps on your way as the picture clears and the beautiful view of time and space reveals itself. The shimmering hardly dims but slowly through dizzying array of colour, you feel a faint pulsation far off yet growing. Letting go of the rail, you slowly glide through the evening's revelry and towards the tango. Under the hazy lights revelers move in tandem, disciples of the music's ponderous radiance. Your synesthesia reads purple. Strange weather, isn't it? The distance seems vast at first but in truth, fear's end is never out of reach. Pretty soon, the rest of the beating hearts catch wind of the conscious oblivion floating about and join suit in dancing through the never ending quest for the treasure of the elusive present moment...

Indeed, the darker elements of the album reveal a more intentional element to the band's perspective, a departure of sorts away from the grand old party, fun for fun's sake feel of their first three albums. With steel drums, thick strands of reverb, a soul lady singing backup and a new lazersharp focus on top the same old dancing fury, Strange Weather slays without a dash of irony or indecision. There might not be any club ready anthems or a radio friendly chorus, but I believe that to be the point. Since all you need to sell an album is a single nowadays, nobody bothers with making a concise album. Plus, psychedelia isn't really concerned with melody, notes or chords. It's a feel thing, something way beyond the ears, hands or mind that looks to capture the attention of bodily existence. That's right there is what needs to be loved in this album. I was beyond blessed to see them play on my birthday up in Louisville with the very best people in the world and it was a slamming evening to cut loose and lose a mind. They played Me and Guiliani Down By The School Yard. Two gals got in a fight and Wheel Wright got bled on. Holy smokes alive, a night of pirate paradise alive with party, pillage and plunder.

That's what Strange Weather is about, in a moment. Highlights abound: the guitar breakdown in Wannagan Wannagain, the chorus of Steady As The Sidewalk Cracks, the tribal feel of AM/FM and the entire four minutes of The Hammer, which is a jam like non other. They've always had the best song names too. Even Judas Gave Jesus a Kiss? Good lawd have mercy, that's just the best. Do your soul a favor and tune in. Okay for now.

Help Meh

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What is the sound of one hand clapping?

-Buddhist koan

Can't get enough of the middle of nowhere. 

Aztec disco

beach sacrifice under a full moon

to jungle

So far away from this drone of a lecture

Canyons-Fire Eyes

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Amidst the attention given to the sciences as how they can lead to the cure of all diseases and daily problems of mankind, I believe that the biggest breakthrough will be the realization that the arts, which are conventionally considered ‘useless,’ will be recognized as the whole reason why we ever try to live longer or live more prosperously.

— John Maeda

Look Around

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I start with a picture in my head. Someone then draws it and I try to figure out how to make it a reality.

I think its cool to be that person in the picture.

Sharks aren't these random killing machines. They're conservative. They don't waste energy. That's why they haven't evolved in 65 million years.

-David Blaine (At the Edge of Death & Fashion | New York Times)

Ain't No Thang

Ain't no nothing but a giant rattlesnake.

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...and my favorite

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Living Alongside Wildlife

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I'm starting to think a certain degree of alienation is created by our music playing devices. Not even from the plugged in tuned out sense. Last year, my main partner in crime and I trooped down through the deep south and onward to New Orleans for New Years and it was a blast. Of course, the full extent of the fun was seen afterwards in reflection (and something of the like is bound to be partaken in again to a grander extent) Lots was learned in the whole ordeal but a particular detail stuck with me afterwards. We started out the venture in hype fashion, lumping Rick Ross and chiefing something major. But as fate had it, a night of madness out on the farm resulted in losing the back window of the car. We opted to trade in the maimed Tahoe for a Buick, something all put together but blessed with a cassette player, a Van Morrison tape and nothing more. We played the life out of that tape. Being stuck with only one option left us with the choice to either like or not and we opted for the former. What is lost in our harnessing of the potential to listen to whatever and ever?  Our impulses can be immediately catered to, which could perhaps create a natural tendency towards uncomfortableness when we initially hear something brand new. Of course we mere mortals love everything thats more familiar to our hearts, ears and mind but conversely, we're always looking for something new. That leads a prevailing hyperconnected attitude that chases but never finds. The music industry only concerns itself with the next big thing, the youtube phenom, that next single instead of realizing and admitting that its Quality that truly sells, not hype, youtube hits or quantity. Who is going to be listening to Justin Beiber in fifty years? Hype these days is equivalent to a wreck on the freeway where folks slow down to watch and then forget all about it. 

Quality isn't hard to come by. You've just got to dig. Slow down and go deeper. The greatest rewards in the world can't be reaped immediately. People focus on the wrecks along the way, while folks like Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails tour every major city in the nation and sell out four or five nights in a row. You'll never hear a Nine Inch Song on the radio or see it in iTunes Top 40, but hovering the art is a dedicated fan base that loves them so hard they'll eagerly scoop up every chance to indulge themselves with it while savoring every moment. I didn't mean to get on a yarn about the industry here but there you have it. My issue is with the social reaction toward new noise and the notion that the grass is not always greener on the other side. The next song in the shuffle doesn't hold the key to happiness, especially if you forgo the one playing at the moment. That's why I love minimal techno. The build up is slow and subtle, a tamborine here and hold it now wait...now the horns until shabam, the peak is reached and the great release showers on the disciples below who loves being along for the ride. Fuck barhopping, give me that on a friday night. 

I want to start a mix series on here, something that serves as a common denominator to umbrella a whole slew of sounds from all over. I wonder how much attention it would get but that's no matter, it would at least give me a chance to exercise some adjectives. This song serves as inspiration, since it first stirred the thought in my head over a year ago. DJ Mujava is from South Africa and rumor has it that he recorded this track from a mental asylum. Makes sense given the sinister vibe that oozes behind the blast of dancehall drums and the woobling bassline, which is such a great bassline. This song's great for you folks warbling around today in a postsugar stupor. 

DJ Mujava-Township Funk 

The Beat

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Good morning yall. Even though its all crisp outside with the sun and breeze, I can't help but feel fall is a little depressing. Thank God Almighty for sports. Without further to do, we folks here at Feel Good Lost try our best to keep a clear heart and an open mind about things. There's more joy in the propensity to say yes before no when approached with new stimuli of any colour. But a fine balance must be upheld. New noise is best when first given a chance, while still keeping in the back of your mind that not everything out there is worth time and attention. I'm the world's worst at this too. The needle hits the record and I'm firing all barrels, relating this sound to that one, comparing this thing to others, giving value, judging, etc. Our natural inclination to make sense of the world is through comparing and contrasting, so we really can't be faulted. True wisdom keeps this fact in mind and still remains enough aware to know when to turn it off and just fucking dance. Go out to a show in Nashville on any given night of the week and you'll find a half decent band playing their nervous hearts out in front of a scattered bunch of too polite soberlings who relinquish not even a foot tap in all their analyzing and criticizing. Where's the love?

The bottom line is that it is a very fine line to walk. If you think too much about what you're hearing, synapses will connect dots at a crazy pace but meaning won't ever be assigned and awareness of the present moment will be so far gone because rampant thoughts unnecessarily abound, which is selfish. If you're solely about feeling it all, everything will be the same and you won't stand for anything because there's no differentiation between good or bad. Too tolerant means you don't stand for anything. But there's always a reason to celebrate because all this is simply steps along the way in the learning process. Folks who claim to know the Way are in truth so far from it. Trial and error is different for everyone.

So yeah, not every band wagon is worth jumping on. The one's that are should be shouted about from mountaintops. We stick pretty close to home here regarding folks we love without care or shame. It's good to love lots for long time, but very small is the number of folks that can do no wrong in their influencing. I can proudly announce that Ghostland Observatory just notched their way onto that totem pole. Queen meets Death From Above 1979. I've always regarded them halfheartedly in the past, paid attention to their albums releases but passed them up a few times mostly out of ambivalence. In a stroke of luck, they played a mild mannered festival just outside Bowling Green at the beginning of the month and honest to pops, it blew my fucking mind. Yeah the brownies were awesome and yeah the lazers beamed through me like tropical light knives but it was the experience that had me reeling. The shy Thomas Turner kept to himself leftside, twisting knobs while draped out in a Lone Star-ed dracula cape like a cosmic phantom of the opera as main man Aaron Behrans held court as a shamanic disciple of the Beat. I couldn't help but picture Native American everything in seeing the whole spectacle play out. Everyone was dancing to the heavens. Behrans paused once between songs to speak to the crowd, where he sounded exactly like a black pastor, all charisma. "Brothers and sisters, let me seeya SEEYA hands out there!" Holy smokes, I was blown away, emotionally sensually exhausted even into the next day. Their albums might not be easy to listen to all the way through, but there is no better live show in the world right now than Ghostland, plain and simple. More rock & roll than any DJ can ever be and more rave inducing than any live band. I remember they played Midnight Voyage for maybe fifteen minutes and the guitar part plus the heavy bass and shimmery chords all smangled together sounded absolutely huge that night out on the farm. Supa jealous Dallas gets them for Halloween. New album just came out too and its a doozy. Codename Rondo. The first track might be the best. Okay for now.

Ghostland Observatory-Midnight Voyage

Oh My Stars

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I'm working so I won't have to try so hard.

- The Strokes

Get outta here

Great Heights

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Holy smokes yall, this is the coolest thing I've seen in a while. 

Who woulda thought homemade space travel in the outback could be as psychedelic as Tame Impala. 

Awesome.

Good Morning

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Kings of Leon's newest leaked last night. My mind is fucking blown. 

You'll hear about it when all the pieces get wrangled up and minced back together.