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It’s impossible to sum up all of my thoughts and feelings about Festival 8 in a way that would do any justice to my memory of it. I know that to be true, but I’m going to try anyway, because it seems foolish to let this high fade over time, and I want to remember how I feel so next time a festival comes around, I’ll know why I want to go.

I was a little nervous about this one for a number of reasons, because I didn’t want to go on an adventure like this without my wife; I didn’t want to miss my two year old’s first trick-or-treating adventure; I didn’t want to go cross country alone. But a big one was that I didn’t want to go and be alone the whole time. Sure, there were JAM listers who were going to be there, but sometimes you meet people in real life and it’s awkward, and you realize it was more natural when you were just talking to a screen.

I was lucky enough to have found a hotel where two of my new friends were staying, Scott and Elayne. Elayne and I had arranged to carpool to the event. I had softly pre-planned to meet a few people, so I figured I’d bum a ride the first day and then go my own way so as not to be a leech.

I got to the hotel around 5:30 or so, completely mentally drained and exhausted, and Elayne texted me that they were about to go on “an adventure” and “did I want to come?” I knew blowing off the excursion was exactly the opposite of what I wanted the trip to be, so I threw my stuff in my room and headed out with Elayne, George, and their friend Jess. Jess was working on site, so we stopped by to drop her off. While waiting for her pass, I turned to George and whispered, “Hey, isn’t that Brad Sands?” “I don’t think Brad Sands works for them anymore,” he answered, at full volume. Elayne shot him a dirty look and loudly whispered – “That IS Brad Sands!” He was about 5 feet from us. I imagine it was more awkward for him than us, since we were just excited to be there.

We lightly scoped the festival grounds and inadvertantly learned our way around Indio. I was starting to fade from lack of food, so we found an authentic Mexican restaurant. It’s hard to sum up how grea the meal was largely because I don’t know how good it actually was: at the time, it was incredible. The best guacamole I’ve ever had combined with an array of homemade goods: crunky taco shells that were imperfectly crafted from freshly-fried hand-made corn tortillas, strechy and rich queso, thick and hearty chips… it was all perfect. We followed the meal with a stop off at some of E & G’s friends’, where I finally got to meet ZZYZX. Afew hours later, day one was done and all that remained was the festival itself.

DAY ONE

An easy morning of lounging around laid the base. We stopped at Wal-Mart for some essentials. We tried to go to a burger joint called “Burgers and Beer” for lunch, but both of the locations on Google Maps were out of business, so we settled on Cactus Jack’s. It was the perfect lunch, the “California Chicken” sandwich: a grilled chicken breast with swiss, bacon, and avacado on a bun. Not too heavy, not too light, just right for a pre-concert meal. No one wants to be carrying a lump of food in their stomach during a Phish show.

We got to the site around 1 anticipating traffic, but, much to our surprise, they waved us right in. There was absolutely no back up due to, I’m sure, a combination of excellent planning and a venue that had so many ins-and-outs that there was nary a bottleneck. On the way in, the promise of chocolate chip pancakes, corn dogs, veggie burritos, and much more suggested that there would be an array of foods and goods to make the event sustainable over several hours.

Security was relatively easy: no explanation necessary for my bag full of clothes that also had phone batteries, sealed water, Tylenol, and a pharmacy full of just-in-case stomach medications. Entering the venue from the grounds was almost overwhelming. There was a giant ferris wheel, a pizza stand, a small general store and a water stand. For $10, you could buy a Nalgene bottle that would be freely refillable for the duration of the festival. I bought one right as I entered. It was hard to take it all in – there was so much to do and so much to see. They were serving Sierra Nevada’s custom “Foam” beer. There were bloody marys. There was food – tons of it. I mean tons. Pizza, cheesesteak, chicken fingers, lemonade, ice cream, turkey wraps, burritos, nachos, hamburgers, garlic fries, coffee, gyros, hot waffles and ice cream, chocolate dipped cheesecake on a stick, fire-roasted artichokes… there was enough that you never needed more than 5 minutes in any line for anything you could envision.

It was hot – really hot. But we shuffled through and made our way through the campground. We found Scott, then Herschel. We wandered through the field until we found Jack and Kat.  Then Phillip.  Then Charlie.   Slowly, the people with whom I’ve been working so closely for the last several months started to become real. Before the event began, the first buzzkill of the weekend emerged: a guy dropped like a rock about 5 feet from us and had a wild and violent seizure. It was so crowded that everyone had a “what should we do?” look. Perplexed, we wondered: do we go for help and miss the set after everything? I wish I could even tell you what happened to the guy, because the band took the stage and I tuned out. It got cold fast, set 1 began with jackets on. A fun set from Party Time through Time Turns Elastic, even though the latter was pretty sloppy. Clearly a “warm up” set, we all agreed, but there were some highlights – I specifically remember liking the Page song “Beauty of a Broken Heart”. After some shirtless, drunk d-bag trampled Elayne and landed on ZZYZX’s feet (how fun to watch him man-up and scream at the guy “Get the fuck out of here… you fucking asshole!”), we used to setbreak to relocate to right behind the delay speaker stacks, which afforded us both more space and, frankly, better crisper sound. The screens were such crispy HD signal that it was like watching a DVD, so much so that I probably spent only a small fraction of time scruntinizing the boys on stage. Most of the time, it was either Kuroda’s majesty or the side screens pulling my eyes, so the location was great. So great that we made it our home for the next 6 sets and much of the time in between.

Set 2 was more of the same: standard setlist, “clearly out the back catalog,” many said, but there were some clear highlights for sure. Piper, Wolfman’s, Down With Disease, and Joy – which means so much mor to me now that I know it’s at least partly about daughters – were highlights. It was pretty cold out at that point, but the music was keeping us warm. Post-set, George and Elayne and I got in line for a post-show slice of pizza, and it was the perfect cap to the night. Traffic out was drop-dead easy: we got in the car and waited a grand total of 45 seconds before exiting onto the main road. We stopped at Wal-Mart for the second time that day on the way home to pick up water and some basic breakfast foods. Got home about 1:30 and to sleep around 2. Great day.

DAY TWO

Day two was Halloween, and the most anticipated of the three days for most. We stopped at Wal-Mart yet again for sunscreen and Tylenol for our aching foot muscles. We left around 11 for the grounds because George and Elayne wanted to participate in the horsehoe contest. We got to the grounds and were immediately presented a “Phishbill” revealing the musical costume of 2009: the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main St. I had combed over many of the remaining albums and was really hoping for Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, but once eliminated, I was pulling for Thriller or the elusive “100th album.” So Exile was a disappointment for me, at first. I was, however, happy to see Halloween in Miami announced.

Knowing that there were 100 options for food at the event, I split off for my own adventure. I went to a “tweet up” to meet several folks I know from Twitter. It was really cool to meet some of the people I’d spoken with so many times, a theme for the weekend, it seemed. After the tweet-up, I met up with Herschel and Scott and we got some lunch. It was ridiculously hot outside. Despite the heat, there was much to do. But it seemed that one of the most fun things to do was to meet at our central location – a large blanket that G&E had decorated like basketball court for part of their group Halloween costume – and just hang out with the many cool people around. It was a blast to spend some time with new and exciting people like Erik Janus and David & Mel Steinberg, some of whom I knew before via email, some of whom I only met at the event.

AT&T coverage seemed to stretch everywhere except the concert field, where even Edge coverage was spotty. While in GPRS territory, from time to time, my phone would catch a signal and deliver a chunk of pending email. It was a very odd experience to receive a message from people tagging my Facebook photos telling me to have a good time, only to find out that they were the friends of the very people I was sitting with. Watching the “phamily” unfold was really something that can’t be explained to non-Phishheads. George and Elayne rejoined us having secured a spot in the semi-finals.

Set 1 began not much later than expected, and it was a lot of fun. Looking back at the setlist, I have to say that nothing really stands out as truly memorable. Divided was great as always. Kill Devil Falls, my absolute least favorite song off of Joy, was actually really well done and I appreciated it at the time. I remember liking Gin and Coil, and Antelope was as rockin’ as it usually is. But nothing from Set 1 ranks among the top of the weekend. Either way, the atmosphere made it taste like an appetizer.

It got dark and cold, but not nearly as cold as the night before. The band took the stage after a 5 minute tribute video to their costume also-rans. Busting in to Rocks Off was so much fun. It’s one of my favorites off the album, so it was very welcome. The band was joined by Sharon Jones and Shaundra Williams on vocals and The Dap Kings on horns. And then Phish did what they normally do to me: they changed my mind. They made me enjoy Exile. A few days out, I say what I didn’t then: after hearing Phish perform Exile, I’m learning to love it. Is it just wacky psychology? Maybe. But either way, you must hear their take. Torn and Frayed is genius. Shake Your Hips, Let It Loose, Casino Boogie, all great. Loving Cup? Probably the best ever. The entire adventure was fun.

We did nothing between sets except hang out. There was one dude, Z-Dogg – 16 years old and stoned out of his skull – who was just crashing all over everything and everyone’s stuff. It was funny to watch this numbskull mope around looking for weed he could bum off of anyone. And, strangely, I think his mother and father were with him constantly smoking him up. Very weird.

Set 3 may have been the musical highlight of the weekend. It started with an unexpected but triumphant Backwards Down the Number Line, a song that really captures some of Trey’s demons, but in a happy way, if that’s possible. It was well executed and dropped into a well performed and powerful, if relatively standard Fluffhead. Fluffhead morphed into one of the best Ghosts in recent memory. I normally find When the Circus Comes to be a little too slow for most sets. In short, it’s hard to recover the energy after such a slow song. Fear not, after some deliberation, You Enjoy Myself came along and set things right.

For an encore the band re-emerged with Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings and tore through what most people are calling the best Suzy Greenbery ever. It’s hard to argue it, the horns and the backup vox made this a really special and screaming Suzy, and it’s unlikely to be matched without a similiar lineup – ever.

In post show bliss, we got our post-show pizza and took a trafficless post-show drive to our post-show ritual Wal-Mart stop. An all around great day.

DAY THREE

Woke up early Sunday to make it to the acoustic set. G & E and Jess dropped their stuff in my room, they were checking out that day, abnd we were off. We did NOT stop at Wal-Mart that day.

I was thinking that morning about how lucky I was to have met Elayne and George.  It could easily have been weird to be carpooling with people I didn’t know: I had figured, before getting there, that I would bum a ride the first day and then “do my thing” the remaining days.  But they were very cool and it was very chill with them, so I stuck around.  That morning, very casually, George said to me, “One of the coolest things about this festival was meeting you, you’re good people.”  I totally felt the same way, and it was true, for me,  that having a home base with cool people was elemental in the trip being successful.  It was a huge compliment to know that people I was enjoying hanging out with were enjoying hanging out with me too.  Especially those two.

We arrived to the only traffic of the weekend, I’m sure everyone was getting there at the same time for once, so we (ab)used Jess’ artist pass to park in a special lot. We trekked in to the first security backup of the weekend, but it wasn’t too bad, they let us in without much fuss. We made it in time for the set, and it was a great set. It was unlike any other Phish set… well, ever. And when they switched from slow and mellow to upbeat via McGrupp and The Curtain, it made my day. Talk was one of the bigger “bust outs” of the weekend, if you can call it that, and though the sun was killer, the experience was unforgettable. When they played an acoustic encore, we spent the following hour debating how to represent the encore to a set in the setlist. I got a chance to meet Ellis and his family, only missing a few Mockingbirders for the weekend.

Hopes were high for sets two and three, and they didn’t disappoint. Set two began with a short and powerful AC/DC Bag dropping right into a clean and energeic Rift. Then came Gotta Jibboo, one of my favorites of the weekend just because it was really well played. Reba was nice, The Wedge and Guelah, two tunes that have been much rarer in recent years, followed. Undermind is, perhaps, going to go down as my favorite song of the festival. The reworked version is the same they played at the soundcheck, but it’s so funky and fun. A standard Sparkle preceded a very welcome Split Open and Melt. All in all, good set. In between, we got to meet Julia, who, believe it or not, actually exists, and is not, as is often claimed, Mike Gordon.  [If, however, anyone would go to the trouble of hiring a temporary stand-in just to fool with us.. oh, and also create a Facebook and Twitter page for her, well, that'd be Mike.]  Either way, we met a person claiming to be her, unfortunately, she arrived just as the set started, leaving us no time to actually talk to her.

It didn’t get cold for set 3, which was welcome. By this point, everyone was realizing that the weekend was winding down. So we settled in, knowing, as well as one can, that we were in for a Tweezer. And we were, Set 3 opened with Tweezer -> Maze. Then came some very good songs: Free, my first Sugar Shack, a high-energy Limb By Limb, and a heavy Theme From the Bottom. The closing series was Mike’s Song > 2001 > Light > Slave to the Traffic Light, which is very hard to beat. I love Light, this one is being debated on many discussion groups as great vs standard, but I love Light, and given the atmosphere, I call it great. And, as you may know, I’ve already made the case for Slave.

The encore was a slightly different Grind, followed by an unexpected and oddly placed Esther. And then, with the hard-hitting mini-jam of Tweezer Reprise, the weekend was over.

I passed on the pizza on Sunday. Instead, I sat back and took it all in. Festival 8 was over. And it was awesome.

I fell asleep on the drive home (I was Z-dogg’in it, you could say), I said goodbye to G&E and went to sleep.

GOING HOME

The next day, I was set to travel home. When I got to the Ontario airport after my maiden voyage to Avocado Burger. In a welcome coincidence, I was on the same flight as Jack and Kat. I got a chance to spend a few minutes chatting up Mockingbird business with him. Good times. The flight from Vegas to Orlando wasn’t bad at all – smooth and generally uneventful, the way I like my flights.
It’s hard to communicate to those who missed it what 8 was like. They can listen to the MP3s, they can look at pictures, they can hear the stories, but they probably can’t appreciate just how amazing the whole vibe was, how free the whole atmosphere was, they way we were welcomed by the city and the venue, how the weather, and the organization, and the hotels, and the restaurants, and the friends blended together into such an event. I suppose all that can be said is “I hope this happens once again!”

See you at 9?

On Wednesday night, Jenn and I went with an old college friend of mine to see The Decemberists, who are touring in support of their “Hazards of Love” album. As expected, the concert did not disappoint.

The first set, as it has been nearly the entire tour, was the Hazards of Love rock opera, in its entirety, in order, without pause. Although I’ve listened to this album through many (what is sure to be over 100) times by now, it certainly tiring in the best possible way for even an audience member to watch it straight through. The music is fantastic, but watching them recreate virtually every note, watching them very intentionally work towards preserving the flawless segues by wearing electric guitars through acoustic songs, it was just awesome.

With no idle chatter, no classic Decemberists raucous through the first set, the second set was decidedly different. With a fun set that featured long and playful sing-alongs, humorous anecdotes, crowd surfing, cartwheels, and even a brief tease of “Simple Gifts,” even the less hardcore fans peppered throughout the crowd could be spotted bopping their heads, laughing, singing, and having a good time. Featuring the first performance of “Everything I Try to Do, Nothing Seems to Turn Out Right” since 2002 and the debut of a song “about Florida”, the set ranged from just plain fun – Meloy handed his guitar to someone in the audience to play – to display of raw talent – Shara Worden and Becky Stark admirably channeling Ann Wilson and crushing Heart’s “Crazy on You” like only a few on this planet could. It was total enjoyment.

The Decemberists are bold in their presentation and put on a show that is incredibly compelling. Some call them – and their performance – arrogant and exclusive. I prefer to think of the Decemberists like a fine wine: it’s challenging, it’s enjoyable, each year is significantly different, and it’s ultimately incredibly satisfying.

Fiona on the original Brion version of Extraordinary Machine. She loves it, but it just wasn’t what she wanted it to be.

Fiona on why she makes music.

I must say that it does kind of sting a little bit. The King Of Pop is dead.

Yes, he became a weirdo freak, but he didn’t exactly have an easy life. That’s no excuse, but it is important context.

The world lost one of its greatest artists last night.

I just love this song. It’s also one of the few songs where Nina really lets her voice lash out - and send shivers down your spine. Normally, she’s all bedroomy and sleepy sexy (she’s SO beautiful), but this is one of those songs recorded after drinking 5 cups of coffee. Refreshing.

If you’re one of those few cocky and arrogant chocking-the-eagle Americans, there’s a lesson in here.

Shirley Manson, frontwoman of one of my favourite bands (Garbage), has released the first demo of her solo project. You can find it here, titled “In The Snow”.

I’m blown away. A very distinctive sound, but obviously with Manson’s instantly recognisable voice. I love it.

Sadly, her record company, Geffen, has turned down her demoes because they considered it “too noir”. Well, boo-fcuking-hoo, what else did they expect? Have they even listened to Shirley’s work with Garbage and Angelfish? Shirley’s lyrics are always very moody, dark, and depressing. That’s her style, it’s why people like me like her lyrics. They are always complicated, full of layers and deeper meanings. It’s not one-two-pop nonsense, it has never been.

Manson had this to say about it:

Manson and Geffen then decided to part ways, and she’s now working without a record deal. This story bears remarkable resemblance to the Fiona Apple saga with Sony, where Sony also turned down her work because it wasn’t marketable.

This is exactly why I want the big media companies to just fcuk off and die. I don’t care about pricing or other restrictive policies they might enforce - I care about the art, and these media companies are hindering the production of art because they let themselves be guided by dollar signs. For all I care, the media companies charge 40 EUR for each album, I’ll still buy it - as long as they stop hindering the production of art.

The Pirate Bay case, summed up.

Music:

Old World: we want to put you through the trouble of going to a store, and buying overpriced CDs, because it benefits the artists us.
New World: we’re lazy, and we want the easiest way possible to get our hands on music, but we are willing to pay for that (iTunes).

Film:

Old World: we want you to buy a DVD ten million yeas after the film’s release, filled to the brim with unskippable warnings about how you are a pirate and a criminal and will go to hell - all on a legally purchased DVD.
New World: we’re lazy, and we want the easiest way possible to get our hands on films.

Seriously, I don’t give a rat’s ass. I buy all my music Old World style (.mp3 sucks ass), and when it comes to film (TV series in my case), I download first, and buy later. This is because most of the series I like aren’t even broadcast and/or sold in my country, so I’m forced to go the way of the pirate. Even if a show does appear on TV here, our local companies fcuk it up by having irregular broadcasting schedules, and we’re always two to three years behind. I see downloading TV shows as the solution to stuff not being broadcast here. If the show is good, I’ll buy it on DVD (BSG, Dead Like Me), and if it isn’t (Lost), I don’t. Hey, just like real TV!

It doesn’t matter fcuk anyway over here. In The Netherlands, you are allowed to download whatever content you want, copyrighted or not.

Even though I’m a royalist through and through, that doesn’t mean I don’t see the ridiculousness of it all. Never has that ridiculousness been put into words better than in “The Crowning”, from the brand new A Camp album, “Colonia”.

Coincidentally, this applies just as much to republics, of course. And fits in nice with Obama’s inauguration.

Awesome, just awesome.

The new Decemberists album was loosed last Tuesday, March 24, and has been met with enthusiasm almost universally.  I purchase only a few discs a year these days, preferring to spend the majority of my music dollars online.  This disc, I knew in advance, would be one of my purchases.

Upon purchase, I quickly came to understand that “The Hazards of Love” is a concept album in the truest sense: the songs are a single, uninterrupted blob - continuous sound from the haunting opening notes of “Prelude” to the final waves of “The Hazards of Love, Part 4.”  The challenge, as with any Decemberists offering, is to decipher the meaning of the often Victorian-style lyrics, and with “The Hazards of Love,” it’s proven to be a challenge.  However, within, find my interpretation of the Hazards of Love story.

Before I get into it, let me address a few complaints I have with this album:

1. The CD liner smells like a camel pen
2. The font in the liner booklet is far too small, doubling the challenge
3. That’s it

I have no other complaints about this disc at all.  In fact, I’ve read only two complaints online, the first being that the talented Jenny Conlee is underused.  To those who have noted that, I urge you to relisten.  Her harpsichord, the Hammond, and her accordion can be heard throughout the album, and while she certainly takes a backseat on some songs, she provides depth to many of the themes that might otherwise deliver much less forcefully their message.

To those  who felt this album is too “heavy metal” and too far a departure from previous Decemberists material, I ask you to relisten paying greater attention to the story.  There is no unnecessary “metal” here.  There is only emotion to properly align to the lyrics.  The queen is accompanied by loud electric guitar.

So, let’s get on with it, shall we? Please read on, I’ll include my entire dissection of “The Hazards of Love.”

The Hazards of Love 1 (The Prettiest Whistles Won’t Wrestle the Thistles Undone)

This song sets up the entire story.  We learn right away that a young lady - who we will later love as our heroine Margaret - goes horseriding out past the fields, far from home.  She crosses into the forest, as she often does, and comes upon a young deer at the edge of the forest, injured and limping, but despite the rapidly approaching dusk (”white and green and gray“), being a woman, the fairer, caring gender, she dismounts and tries to help the fawn.  Before she can assist, she feels a sharp shake of the ground, and the fawn shifts shape into a man.  She glances upon the man and falls immediately in love with him, and he with her.

They have sex, right there, in the forest, upon the forest floor, flowers and leaf beds (the “thistles“) providing the only padding.

Later, back in the grounds of the village,  the ladies relax and chit-chat, worry-free and without care, except one: our Margaret, who is otherwise distracted and thinking of her William and their marvelous encounters in the forest.

A Bower Song

Margaret’s sister, or perhaps just another maiden (Edit: or a nun), approaches and says to our heroine, “Don’t cry, Margaret! I know you’re pregnant, when are you going to give birth? And, by the way, which of the jerks around town is your baby daddy?” (I had some trouble with the line “when wilt thou trouble the water in the cistern“, but I’ve decided that troubling the water must mean draining it or reducing the level, which would mean an event that would require lots of cleaning, in short: the birth.)  As Margaret’s baby bump begins to show, rather than stay with the maidens and be exposed, she packs her things and heads back to the forest to find her William.

Won’t Want For Love

Our Margaret makes her way back to the forest in search of William, begging the forest as she goes to create a path to lead her to William and to alert him that she seeks him.  As she grows tired, she makes a bed in the forest, just as she and William shared a leafy bed in moons past.

Meanwhile, not so far away, William calls to Margaret, he pains to be with her.

The Hazards of Love  2 (Wager All)

William finds Margaret and they declare their love for one another.  William tenderly confesses that he feels more for her than just a need for sex, rather, he loves her.  He lays her down in soft clovers and makes love to her beneath the sky.  In post-coital bliss, he tells he that he wishes that they could lay together all night, naked, until the morning birds sing.  We’ll later learn that he explains his predicament: his mother, the Queen of the Forest, she who rescued him from a clay cradle in the rough rivers, has cast a spell upon him.  He will live the remainder of his days as a fawn by day, a man only by night.  But he will risk everything for Margaret, he will face his mother, in due time…

The Queen’s Approach

Unbeknownst to our lovers, William’s adoptive mother, the Queen, approaches.  Our lovers, in great haste, part ways once again. Update: I’ve been rethinking this. It makes more sense that the Queen catches William and Margaret, and as a result, she forbids William from going out at night. That’s why they’ve spent nights together, but he must beg his mother to let him out in “The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid”.

Isn’t It a Lovely Night?

I like to believe that our lovers sing this song while together, but it makes more sense to me that as Margaret soliloquizes from her perch in the forest, William sings from afar.  Margaret remains, perhaps, in the bed of flowers and clovers referenced earlier that she and William had shared.  She cherishes her baby-to-be, the child of William.  William, retreating to his forest dwelling, smiles giddily remembering how the breeze bent the leaves which tickled him as he made love to Margaret in the brush.  Each agrees that in many ways, parting again is like dying a little death. Update: As pointed out in the comments below, “little death” is middle English slang for orgasm. Make of that what you will.

The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid

Now the story gets interesting.  The Queen — William’s adoptive mother — finds William, and although she hasn’t caught him in the act,, she knows that he’s been out sleeping with a woman.   In anger, he tells her that he heard her coming, her approach was betrayed by the weight of her footsteps, much like black smoke covering a coffin precedes a funeral. He tells her that he wants this night to do as he pleases, for the need to be with her is strong, and although he can suppress it from time to time, sometimes, he cannot (hence, the wanting comes in waves).

She responds: “Hold on, I saved you from the river.  I cradled you.  I raised you.  I protected you.  You belong to me.  And now you want the night, the only time you’re a man, to spend with other women?   This is how you repay me for the years I spent as your mother?”

He bargains with her; he makes a foolish, pennywise offer: let me free for this one night, and I will return by dawn, and I will be yours forever.  Of course, we already know, he’s planning to run with Margaret.  After all, he’d “wager all.”

Th mother thinks this over and carefully responds: “Ok, you can have tonight - total freedom.  But here’s the catch, as you promised, come morning,  you belong to me for all future nights.  You just cashed in your one favor, m’boy, from here on out, we’re sqaure.”

An Interlude

Relax and enjoy friends, we’ve know the backstory, here’s where the adventure begins.

The Rake’s Song

Enter: The Rake.  The Rake is a vile man, married young.  The first 9 or so months of marriage was great, as he got lots of sex from his wife.  Of course, there was one unintended consequenece: she started having babies.  However, when delivering her fourth child, she and the baby died, leaving the rake with three kids and no chance to have the amount of sex he was craving. So he sets about to change his life: he poisons Charlotte by feeding her bad flowers.  He drowns poor Dawn in the bathtub.   And while his son Isiah struggles admirably, nonetheless, he kills him, and in response to the fighting, he burns the body.  Though we might think he’d be bothered by all of this, he assures us, it’s never really bothered him.

The Abduction of Margaret

The rake hides in the bushes, the very same bushes in which William and Margaret enjoyed their first enounter together.  As Margaret passes, the rake grabs her, binds her hands, throws her over his shoulder then across his horse, galloping away.  Then he comes to Annan Water, the uncrossable wild river, the very river from which the Queen once rescued baby William!

The Queen’s Rebuke/The Crossing

Here we learn the backstory I referred to above: the Queen, she of the very fabric of the forest, found William in a clay cradle.  She took the poor baby and gave him the form of a fawn by day.

“So,” she says to the Rake, “since you have kidnapped Margaret, the only thing that has ever tempted my poor boy to defy me, I will fly you over the uncrossable Annan Water, so that William will be unable to chase you.  In exchange, you may keep young Margaret, to do with as you will, including raping and killing her, if you so desire.”

Annan Water

Meanwhile, William discovers that Margaret is nowhere to found, and upon tracking her trail, soon learns that she has been abducted.  He begins his quest to rescue her, but soon finds himself at the bank of Annan Water, the uncrossable river.  The river is far too wild and untamed to be crossed without a suitable boat of some sort,  a device which he neither has nor has time to make.  His horse would never make it across, and his mother has warned him many times that attempting to cross on horse would certainly end in his death.

But William is close, and can hear poor Margaret’s screams.  He is due to return to his mother for eternity and Margaret is captured by the Rake.  Desperate, he beckons the river: “Please, river, let me cross.  As I cannot grow wings and fly across, calm your waters and let me save my love.  If you do this, I will return, and if you desire, you can have my body then.  I will willingly submit myself to you.  Just let me pass to rescue my Margaret!”

Margaret In Captivity

The Rake, in one of the particularly creepy moments of the tale, paces about the bound Margaret in a small, abandoned forest castle, leans in, and tells her pointedly, “My swan, do not struggle, as you will only cause yourself rope burns or break your precious wrists and fingers. ”

But she calls for William.

“Don’t bother getting your hopes up,” the Rake continues, “no one will hear you, and no one will find you.  At least not before I’ve raped and killed you.”

But she calls for William!

The Hazards of Love 3 (Revenge!)

The song begins with theme from “The Wanting Comes in Waves,” which we know, by now, is William’s theme.  William comes for his Margaret! But is he in time?

But wait! What is that sound? It’s the ghost of Charlotte, come to warn her father that his children have returned, she rises. Enter Dawn, chastising papa for keeping the water running, but fear not - she breathes again.  And Isiah,  the struggling son, has returned as well.  In fact, the Rake is driven mad by the return of his vengeful children.

The children have saved Margaret temporarily, but for long enough?

The Wanting Comes in Waves (Reprise)

The lack of lyrics here leave much of the story up to us, so here is how I see it: as the Rake is struggling with the ghosts of his late children, William triumphantly bursts into the fortress, killing the Rake, and saving his Margaret!  He pulls loose her binds and they leave the body of the Rake behind to be forgotten.

The Hazards of Love 4 (The Drowned)

No Decemberists adventure is complete without a tragic ending.  This one bothers me more than most.  I wish it didn’t end this way, but I think it’s clear what happens.

William and Margaret are now stuck on the far side of Annan Water.  They attempt to cross, but the waters, obeying William’s one-time wish, attempt to claim his body, as he promised.  He cannot escape Annan Water like he did his mother.  So, as he and Margaret struggle to stay above water, William asks Margaret to marry him, with only the waves to witness their matrimony.

William’s debt to the water exists, of course, only because he decided to rescue Margaret, and Margaret knows this. What is left for our star-crossed lovers? William can only be a man during the day and his nights are promised to his mother, who will stop at nothing to prevent Margaret and William from being together. Margaret cannot return home with child. William cannot stay in the forest, as he has crossed his mother, and she has sent the Rake after Margaret. It looks like there will be no happy ending for our hero and heroine.

In their last moments, they swear eternal loyalty to one another and share a final and touching kiss as the air rushes from their lungs and, then, gently and willingly, they submit to the rough waters of Annan.  And with that, our poor lovers break the surface and rest, entwined, at peace, undisturbed, in Annan Water, for eternity.

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What we don’t know is whether or not the child has survived.  It would be nice to think that Margaret has actually delivered the baby and that the poor child survives.  It’s funny to think that somehow, William himself was abandoned in the forest.  However, it seems unlikely that Margaret would have been wandering for the Rake to seize her without her baby.  I fear the child has gone to the eternal rest with his parents.

Either way, it’s sad to think that William and Margaret were unable to escape and live happily ever after.  I’ve listened to the album several times through, and I fear I cannot find any way to bend the story such that they don’t die.  Unfortunately, this is one section of the lyrics that is relatively straightforward.

A note on geography: the first Hazards of Love makes reference to Offa’s Wall. Offa’s Dyke is, according to Wikipedia, “is a massive linear earthwork, roughly following some of the current border between England and Wales.” That, it would seem, puts us in the British isles. The Rake’s fourth child was named “Myfanwy,” which is an Welsh name, which seems to set us firmly in Welch territory. The only hesitation I have on this is that the taiga, referenced a few times, doesn’t extend to Wales.

There is a town called Annan Water in Scotland, not far from Glasgow, which I found by simply Googling Annan Water. It doesn’t appear there is taiga in Scotland, although there are apparently “taiga bean geese” which are nearly extinction. Given that Annan Water is in Scotland, but Offa’s Dyke in Wales, I think it’s safe to give Meloy and crew some poetic license and simply conclude that it’s either Wales, England, or Scotland. I’m even willing to grant that the “taiga” we’re referring to is only cold forest, but that, for literary amusement, we’re calling it taiga. I may be wrong here, but I don’t think it’s necessary to plot the location with GPS precision.

The incredible story of this album is puntuated by the recurring themes of the music and the associated voices.  I am absolutely haunted by Queen, voiced by the incredibly vocally gifted Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond.  Her last note of “Repaid” is one of the most amazing moments of the story.  She conveys the Queen’s seriousness in one dramatic note.

The tragic story of The Hazards of Love is one that is best understood upon multiple listenings.  Take the time to pass over it more than once before passing judgement, as a complete package, it’s absolutely enchanting.

Before it gets taken down by the record company nazis, here’s part one of Fiona Apple’s 1997 MTV Unplugged performance. Even I didn’t know this existed, so apart form the fact that I have to do penance now, I’m enjoying it just as much as everyone else. Part II isn’t yet uploaded, it seems, so let’s hope the uploader gets it up there as well. Never knew this had been recorded.

By the way, looking at old footage of Fiona just makes it all the more clear how much healthier she looks these days. God am I happy for that fact.

While we’re at it, here’s a fan interview with Fiona, which shows off so well how humble and kind she really is. There’s no media training here, no fake answers, no pleasing - it’s just who she is. She might come across as unnatural to people who aven’t been initiated into this whole Fiona thing, but that’s just because she is normal - everybody else in the music business has been media trained to death, void of any emotion or realness during their interviews. Fiona isn’t awkward - she’s just not trained to handle the media, making her all the more real and honest.

Too bad I won’t be able to interview her. I’ve got so much to ask her.

It didn’t take me a test to figure that obviousness out. My entire audio/video/television system is digitally connected via optical audio cables and HDMI, and I’ve always specifically told the sales people to more or less shove their nonsense up their asses and give me the cheapest HDMI/optical cables they had in stock. I told them the same thing when I was hooking up my parents’ brand new A/V/TV equipment - cut the crap, and give me your cheapest cables. I’m not going to discuss this with you salespeople, because you’re wrong.

The only justifiable reason to pay 130 EUR for a HDMI cable is that the cable overall is sturdier, and will last longer. However, for picture and audio quality, it doesn’t make a single goddamn difference, and if you still claim that it does, you’re thick and a thief of your own wallet (as we Dutch say).

Kind of like all that UFO nonsense. I saw one, so they must be real! No, let’s just follow Occam’s Razor, and take the simpler explanation: you’re just an idiot.

Several small things.

I have a new main desktop computer, built it myself from hand-picked parts. AMD Phenom X4 quad-core processor (4x2.2Ghz), 4GB of gaming RAM from Geil (whatever the hell gaming RAM means), and a fancy motherboard that can connect the on-board graphics chip to a discrete one via SLI. Also bought a red Asus case and a power supply picked because it was silent. It’s a blazing-fast machine now, and I’m really happy with it.

It set me back a mere 320 EUR. I forgot to order cooling paste, so I quickly drove to town to buy a tube of the stuff, and as I walked by the Apple store and noticed the prices, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

I also have a new job. I can’t say much about it, but it’s nothing fancy. I’m quite happy with it, in any case. This new job does mean more time for OSNews, which is always a good thing.

I bought This Is Alphabeat today, Alphabeat’s debut album. Great stuff.

Last night’s new Battlestar Galactica episode kicked major ass. Awesome stuff.

That will be all.

I’m not a Green Day fan, but for some reason, those guys have a couple of songs that really stick with you.

One that I particularly like is “Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)”. The simplicity of the sound is striking, and the lyrics are short, but quite powerful, and recognisable to just about anyone in one way or another.

I was always a bit afraid of them. Mention their name, and music enthusiasts all over the world instantly start burying them under boatloads of words of praise, with such devotion and determination it usually made me wonder - can these guys really be as good as everyone promises me? Does any artist (other than Fiona, obviously) really deserve such devout adoration?

Consequently, I stayed away from the band in question as if they had herpes. I just couldn’t believe all the pink ponies and rainbow stories with them in it, and in order to not be disappointed, I ignored them.

Well, as it turns out, I was wrong. Radiohead deserves all the praise they’re getting. Dear lord, these guys are good.