Dispel This

Well, I just wrote my most eloquent diary entry in weeks and I.E. crashed on me. So, here I go again, however I don't have the love I did ten minutes ago. That's what these machines do to me, sap the love. Recently I've been enjoyiing destroying the juvenile pretentions I once held on to so adamantly. Two years ago it was Elvis, yes Presley, who I had never paid any attention to until Amy & I went to Graceland. It didn't take long after that for him to become one of my favorite singers. This year it's all about the Pet Sounds. In 1998 while driving around Iowa on the set of Whiteboys I gained a certain appreciation for the Beach Boys, but that was simply the Oldie Stations' version of their career. I learned to really enjoy their songs, especially their harmonies, but I didn't think there was anything especially great about their music. Not until this year, anyway, this summer, and Amy's impulsively brilliant idea to buy Pet Sounds. Now, I have heard these guys' songs my whole life, as anybody in America has, but they were always cheesy corny poppy guys, and I never took them seriously. This might be my own fault, but the radio stations aren't exactly progressive in their programming, especially of Oldies. Pet Sounds, to which I have been familiar for decades (more than one, less than two), was always there, more due to the cover than anything, in my musical being. The Beach Boys' MegaHits were there for even more decades than that, but it took until after I turned 26 to allow Brian Wilson's genius, yes genius, to round off that very particular corner of my musical conciousness. Now that he has, I'm so much the happier for it. Last night I even gained a large amount of appreciation for Ricky, I mean Rick, Nelson, who was never exactly profound but for whom I learned a lot about. I have never seen an episode of Ozzie & Harriet, ever, and knew nothing about them but the most tertiary of things like that they were a TV family no different to me than the Cleavers or Partridges. Only last night did I actually begin to know anything about the show or the music of Rick Nelson (unfortuantely I was familiar with Matt & Gunnar's music). I had never even heard "Garden Party" until this year. But getting back to Brian Wilson, whose complexity rivals that of Dylan, whose adherence to principle reminds me of Hank Williams or Loretta Lynn, and whose charm likens him to Paul McCartney, and how his music is very much poetic, he is very Pacific, indeed, but he is also motivated and in gear. It seems that the star-life puts many people in cruise control and/or neutral and shoves them off into an indetermined distance like the wayward astronaut whose gravity has been violated. It makes me wonder, too, who I will appreciate next. Barbra? Maybe even Celine or Garth! Okay, I doubt it too, but I very much enjoy seeing the pubescent walls of cool fall and tumble onto the floor of that musical awareness I call my heart and become an easily traversible brick road. Thank you Elvis, yes Presley, for leading me from that dungeonic life of opinion.

Look what I Had on My ClipBoard - my Original Entry! - I'll put them both up - Which One you like better?

Dispel This

So, I've been liberated of a lot of my juvenile opinions now. The most recent ignorance to be subject to the wrecking ball of truth is my idea of Brian Wilson. Two years ago it was Elvis, yes Presley, who I had paid absolutely no attention to until Amy & I went to Graceland in 2000. It didn't take long for my passive intolerance to turn into active lionization, and I now consider Elvis, yes Presley, to be one of my favorite singers. This summer it's all about teh Pet Sounds, an album about which I've been familiar for decades (more than one, less than two) but predominantly just of the cover and that it was in fact the Beach Boys. Of course I've been familiar with their songs, their hits anyway, for even more decades, and in 1998 I gained an appreciation for them driving around Iowa on the set of Whiteboys, but that was still only the MegaHits, the Oldie Stations' version of their career. I drove around impressed and charmed by their harmonies especially, but i didn't think anything was especially great about their songs themselves, other than that they were catchy. Now that Pet Sounds has rounded off a very particular yet large corner of my musical being, that has all changed forever. Last night on a somewhat similar page of that beingness, I learned the nature of Ricky Nelson, er I should say Rick Nelson, and his tunes. It's amazing I went through life for 26 plus years without ever seeing an Ozzie & Harriet episode, even knowing what it is, knowing anything about who, when, and what they were, besides clumping them with the Cleavers and Partridges. Turns out Rick, while not exactly ever being profoundly pregressive, was pretty darn noteworthy after all, kind of like how the Monkees survived their origins. I had never even heard 'Garden Party' until this summer and only last night did I learn exactly what he was talking about (MSG). But getting back to Brian Wilson, to call him a genius is by no means a stretch of the imagination or the dictionary. A complexity that rivals Dylan, a charm that parallels Paul McCartney, and an adherence to principle that is no less a feat than that of Loretta Lynn make Brian Wilson not only the consummate Beach Boy but an actual poet of the sands, a man who has the life of luxury in every direction who insists on being himself through the thick and thin. What's next? Am I to finally see the Glory that is Barbra!? Or maybe Celine, or perhaps even Garth Brooks! Okay, I doubt it too. Even so, breaking the pubescent walls of cool is becoming easier all the time, because now I see them, I didn't know they were there for a long time. Thanks Elvis, yes Presley, for leading me from that dungeon.
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
10:10 a.m.
by: adam douglas payne