1. The Black Angels. 'Directions To See A Ghost' was a modern psychedelic masterpiece, an indicator that the groups potential existed beyond their debut 'Passover'. It's about time that they're due to release a new album, and while I remember reading somewhere that they're working on one I've yet to see any further evidence of this. Hopefully I'm not just fantasizing.
2. Boards of Canada. If these two ghostly figures of modern electronic wizardry release a new album I'll probably explode in excitement. While some thought their last effort 'The Campfire Headphase' was disappointing, I saw it as a sign of further sonic exploration to come. However because of their elusive nature I doubt we'll hear very little about their next effort until it finally springs into existence. Until then I'll sit tranced out in my room worshiping Egyptian death gods to Geogaddi.
3. Dead Meadow. I know these guys have been playing shows (nowhere near my own state however, motherfuckers) and blowing minds like always, but it's been quite some time since they graced the world with a new release. Pretty much every album they've released has been noteworthy and unique in it's own way, while still maintaining the sound that seperates from the typical stoner rock herd.
Well, I guess you can say I'm pretty greedy when it comes to music. At least it's something I can get excited about something that's not self destructive.
This song, by 1960's psychedelic rock pioneers The Soft Machine, has been a favorite of mine for quite some time. It was written and sung in a narrated style by the ever-so enigmatic Kevin Ayers, a musical personality that I have been often fascinated by. The lyrics are informed by the philosopher Gurdjieff, a Russian philosophy that Ayers credited as an influence.
The lyrics to 'Why Are We Sleeping' are far from typical rock'n'roll subject matter. They carry a heavily esoteric and mysterious mood, existing in a sort of atypical reality (which is common for Ayers' work).
It begins with a blessing, it ends with a curse Making life easy by making it worse "My mask is my master", the trumpeter weeps But his voice is so weak, as he speaks from his sleep
Saying: "Why, why, why... Why are we sleeping?"
People are watching, people who stare Waiting for something that's already there "Tomorrow I'll find it", the trumpeter screams And remembers he's hungry, and drowns in his dreams
Saying: "Why, why, why... Why are we sleeping?"
My head is a nightclub with glasses and wine The customers dancing or just making time While Daevid is cursing, the customers scream Now everyone's shouting, "Get out of my dream!"
Saying: "Why, why, why... Why are we sleeping?"
Gurdjieff's philosophy is one that urges one to take a path of self-enlightenment, which involves the metaphorical removal from the state of 'sleep'. According to Gurdjieff, "Man lives his life in sleep, and in sleep he dies." In this state of sleep we are not conscious, we exist as drones unthinkingly going throughout life, trapped by our own subjective perceptions. If we are able to 'wake up' and escape this state of mind, then we can better understand ourselves and reality.
The path to awakening was described by Gurdjieff as the Fouth Way. It was titled this because other teaches either stressed the importance of the mind, the body or emotions, where Gurdjieff beleived that enlightenment could only be achieved by simultaneously working with the three. Music was an important part of the 'awakening', because it combines the three. Gurdjieff wrote ballets accompanied by sacred dances that were designed to bring participants into a state of transcendence, exiting the realm of sleep and awakening them into a state of self enlightenment.
Gurjieff's philosophy of self enlightenment through the search for higher consciousness speaks to me. To 'awaken' (in my own possibly naive interpretation) is to escape the mundane and passive and reach a state of being that is less ignorant of it's surroundings, thus better understanding one's self through it's relation to the environment.
the moon is an instrument, the sun a conductor, my senses a disheveled street musician - making noise and fighting off poverty
and all the patrons and animals who crawl on by are quickly growing old and impatient, leaving the bars and clubs with a glimmering suspicion gravity taking them to arid plains of boredom and disease where god and the internet leave them content
and when this ragtag symphony dissipates i join them, anonymous and tragic like the voices in our dreams we effortlessly forget
