The Sea and Cake is touring right now. And they sound as good as ever, as is clear from their set at the Boot and Saddle in Philadelphia the other night. #seaandcake
When I read aloud these seven stanzas of the “The Jabberwocky” from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, my brow furrows slightly and my mouth moves cautiously to sound out the rhyming of the words. Re-reading each verse, I’m less guarded and considerably swifter in the tongue. I feel more linguistically unconstrained with each read. My understanding of the meaning of the verses the second and third times through, however, isn’t necessarily greater than the first. Yet the audible allure of the sounds demonstrably increases with repetition. To be sure, “it seems very pretty,” as Alice exclaimed upon hearing it, “but it’s rather hard to understand!” The appeal of jabberwocky language, I imagine, is not the intellectual stimulus it affords its reader-reciters. Rather, it is the separation of meaning and utterance, the divide between cognitive understanding and oral gesturing that makes this poem enthralling and fun. The simultaneous embodiment and de-cognition of Carroll’s jabberwocky gives his readers an experience with deviant language. That is to say, jabberwocky is special language, unlike much of the discourse with which we construct our lives, because it’s experienced on a visceral rather than an intellectual level. To subdue the instinctual urge to understand what’s being read and recited, and to perform fully the rhythm and rhyme of jabberwocky, is an exercise in flouting the laws of semantics. How does this irregular experience of reading and reciting make us feel? When I read nonsensical diction that’s mixed with recognizably sensible language – particularly when it’s read out loud – I naturally, though perhaps unconsciously, feel myself fall out of sync with the cultural conventions of logic, truth, commonsense, and authority. And it feels good.
My favorite band tribute song these days, bar none. Plus, there’s nothing like a shot of Motörhead to jumpstart the day.
Ever wonder what a music video might look like if John Waters and David Lynch co-directed it? And what if the music they fixed in visual narrative were a brilliant 11-1/2 minute instrumental that evokes the likes of Stereolab, Tom Waits, and My Bloody Valentine? If you have any interest in seeing what the confluence of ideas and sounds swirling outta the minds and speakers of these folks and bands might look like, look no further than the title track on Cate Le Bon’s fourth album, Crab Day (April 2016). Shot in Berlin and directed by the intriguing English-born / Berlin-based artist and filmmaker, Phil Collins (no, not Sussudio!), this video is at once absurd and mesmerizing, compelling and awkward. I wish it were longer. This is 11-1/2 minutes of Dadaist joy! The rest of album is pretty great, too.
Maybe one of these days someone from the EMP community will post a proper retrospective of Prince — a big task, no doubt. In lieu of that, for now, here’s the original version and a much more recent live version of “When You Were Mine.” To my mind, easily one of his finest songs.