I smell what you're saying

Synesthesia is the concept of getting your sensory systems crossed. Seeing music, tasting color, associating emotions and personalities to letters, number and words are all examples. It’s the kind of thing that sounds like you’d have to be under the influence of some hallucinogen to experience. There are a surprising number of people in this world who are gifted (or cursed) with one or more of these conditions. There is some kind of science behind it, and if you checked the wiki article on synethesia I’m sure you could find some interesting tidbits.

I came across a girl on a message board I frequent who could look at a word and see a colorful abstract representation of that word in her head. Users on the board requested that she draw their usernames, dirty words, etc. I thought it would be a sweet idea to get her to draw my name or initials, or something, and I could get a tattoo done of it, as some of her drawings were absolutely beautiful in an abstract way.

I’ve been looking for a long time for a tattoo that’s isn’t some cliché Japanese kanji that I’m told means “Doves and Peace” but actually translates “Pieces of Doves: Donkey, Donkey, Donkey.” What better back story for a tattoo than “oh, that’s what someone with Synesthesia sees when they look at my name.” Unfortunately, the thread I read turned out to be pretty old, and she’d become pretty bitter towards nerds from the internet asking her to draw shit, so she was pretty cold towards me when I contacted her. I don’t blame her, although, I was pretty freaking polite and understanding when I talked to her. Lousy synesthesiacs.

The idea of synesthesia got me thinking about how I react to music. I know this happens to others as well, as I’ve talked to a few people about it. For many people, smell is the strongest sense tied to memory. This is still true for me, but a very, very close second is music. Not so much hearing as a whole, just music. It seems as though I can remember the first time I heard every song I know. I also associate music with stages of my life. For example, Alanis Morrisette conjures up memories of playing with this one kid on my block. We’d take turns listening to the Jagged Little Pill album on my tape player. No Doubt brings me back to driving to an audio rental company to pick up a truck full of sound gear for a huge concert at my high school. Atmosphere (early Atmosphere) makes me think of sitting in the green room at my high school theatre, playing solitaire. Beck: Guero makes me think of hanging out at Anne and Megan’s apartment at the end of freshman year. Green Day sums up far too much of high school. Jimmy Eat World brings back thoughts of driving home from some concert in the rain in the back of “Betsy,” my friend’s ill fated conversion van with 8 other people. Pink Floyd makes me hallucinate. Phish reminds me of summer camp, as it should. Beastie Boys: Intergalactic reminds me of driving down the camp road on the way to a night off in Virginia or Duluth. Hours of music reminds me of Late Night Kirby, as I’ve been exposed to so much new music there, it’s impossible to quantify. The Combustible Neon Sox remind me of the most fantastic musicians I’ve ever seen. Seriously.
I should organize my music autobiographically, a la High Fidelity. I feel more and more like Rob Gordon (John Cusack) every day.

I’ve got hours of music that are forever associated with girlfriends, which is bittersweet at best. It’s great because it reminds me of them, but terrible because it reminds me of them. There’s a lot of music that I’ve only been able to listen to recently. Tell me I’m not the only one who experiences this.

Music that doesn’t remind me of specific events or eras reminds me of the people who introduced me to that music. To those people who force their music on me, thank you. To those people who are willing to sit still and tolerate some weird new band I’ve discovered, thank you. To those of you who stay up till the sun starts thinking about rising, listening to my ramblings on the airwaves, thank you so much. Chances are that if you’re reading this, you’re one of those people. The music you’ve given me has helped define me.

Keep on listening, I’ve got more for you, and I want more from you.


P.S. Name a band and I’ll tell you what images they conjure up.

At your funeral? Really?

Another great night on the airwaves. The most absolutely ridiculous thing happened. I was about to play "Hallelujah" sung by Rufus Wainwright, and right before I pressed play, the phone rang. I started the track and picked up the phone. The guy on the line was silent for a second or two and then said "Brother, your amazing. You just read my mind. I was calling to request Hallelujah, because I just put it in my will that I want that song played at my funeral." I was speechless. What? How does that happen? How, out of millions of possible songs, do I chose the one song this guy wants to hear, one that has special significance, and isn't even the original version of the song? Of course, it's a little odd to want to hear the song that's going to be playing at your funeral, but hey, I'm not one to judge. Whats more, I asked him if there was anything else he wanted to hear, and he asked for some low key melodic Tom Waits. Of course, as fate would have it, I already had some Tom Waits in the lineup for the night. What the heck, two songs in a night, spot on. I was completely flabbergasted, and Fuller can vouch for that.

1. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Lyon 6.6.06
2. Muse - Feelin' good
3. Cake - when you sleep
4. Radiohead - Idioteque
5. NIN - Only
6. Foo Fighters - Break Out
7. Jet - Cold Hard Bitch
8. Ratatat - Tacobel canon
9. Of Montreal - Faberge falls for shuggie
10. Cloud Cult - Living on the outside of your skin
    
11. Keller Williams - Kidney in a cooler
12. Pseudopod - Shrinks
13. John Frusciante - Carvel
14. Amateur Love - I Need you now
15. No Doubt - Hey you(acoustic)
16. Brazilian Girls - Don't stop
17. Hot Hot Heat - Goodnight goodnight
18. Gnarles Barkley - Smiley faces
19. Grateful Dead - St. Stephen
20. Red Hot Chili Peppers - Bicycle song
21. The Beatles - I've just seen a face
22. Rufus Wainwright - Hallelujah
23. Tom Waits - Tom traubert's blues
24. Elliot Smith - Needle in the hay
25. Rufus Wainwright - Across the universe
26. DeVotchKa - How it ends

I'm aware I played Wainwright twice in rapid succession. Deal with it.

Thanks for listening. Questions? Hit me up if you want to hear any of them again. I'd love to hear what you thought. To the cities, bitches.

Tinnitus

Last night we had a concert in the Rafters, featuring “Four Letter Lie” headlining and two more local Minnesota bands opening. This might mean nothing to all of you but the volume on stage for the second band was 116dB (A weighted.) For the less nerdy, that equates to approximately fucking loud. I asked the band if they wanted me to turn it down, but they said to crank it as much as I could, and that they were deaf anyway, so not to worry about it. Some people are dumb. It blows my mind how people subject themselves to these extreme volumes willingly without any sort of protection. The volume at the sound board (Front of House, FOH for those in the know) was a less pummeling but still loud 106dB. That means that it was much louder up near the front where the crowd was. Just about the entire night was spent beyond the threshold of hearing damage, meaning some of those people were exposed to damaging audio for three hours with very little rest. I was wearing ear plugs of course, but a vast majority of the crowd was not. In thirty years when they can’t hear the drive through attendant at Wendy’s they’re finally going to get it.

But Clay, aren’t you the sound guy? Don’t you have control over the volume?
Thank you for asking. Yes and no. Everything on stage is mic’ed, but many things on stage just don’t need it. Snare drums, especially in rock groups, are ridiculously loud, and I usually have them muted in the system. The same goes for guitars, who are the main offenders. These rock bands show up with Marshall Double Stacks (a 6 foot tall amp,) and they’re used to playing grungy clubs with terrible sound systems, so they usually have to compensate with their own amps to make the show sound decent. Our system has more than enough power to shake the plaster down in the Rafters. Unfortunately, turning down a guitar amp means changing the sound of the guitar, and these musicians are used to the sound of their guitars at 120dB (Decibels by the way, sorry.) I always ask kindly for them to turn down as much as possible without changing their sound. Usually artists are willing to comply when I explain that I will be turning them back up again, and it will help me to make them sound better. But last night. Last night was a bunch of high school kids. Nuff said. They wanted it loud, they were going to make it loud. So in order to make it so things like the kick drum, bass, and *gasp* the vocals could be heard over the earsplitting roar emanating forth from these gaping maws of Marshall (or Mesa Boogie, take your pick,) I had to crank my system even further. This only compounds the damage being done to the tiny hairs deep within the ear canals of the unsuspecting hardcore dancers flailing wildly about in the “mosh pit.”

So what have we learned today class? If it hurts your ears, it’s probably hurting your hearing. And hearing is not something you can re grow. Ever. You lose it and it’s gone. Always bring ear protection to concerts, even if it’s a gospel choir, because you may end up with seats right next to the speakers, and as you get closer to the source of a sound, the volume increases exponentially. And turn down your headphones, wow. Headphones are the fastest way to hearing loss short of a tea party on the tarmac (god I hope someone gets that.) iPods have a customizable volume limiter on them now, which is smart. Of course, it was put in as a result of a lawsuit from some fuckwit who had their headphones turned up too loud and went partially deaf. Speaking of iPods, mine came in the mail on Monday. I opened the box to find this little gem of a warning on the protective sticker on the front of the gadget.

Cute.

Thursday night! 1am! 103.3 or kumd.org. I’ve got a bunch of new music you probably haven’t heard. If you’ve heard it, I’ll buy you a pony.

Listen loud, listen responsibly, and don’t forget to spay and neuter you pets.

-63hz

Radio show playlist

Some people requested, so here it is. I'll do this from now on. If you've got any questions, or want any of these tracks, drop me an IM, but don't tell the RIAA.

1. Muse: Take a bow
2. Gnarles Barkley: Transformer
3. Yonder Mountain String Band: Ramblers anthem
4. Hot Hot Heat: Elevator
5. The Strokes: Last night
6. The Flaming Lips: The W.A.N.D.
7. RJD2: Laws of the Gods
8. Her Space Holiday: My girlfriend’s boyfriend
9. Ok Go: here it goes again (UK surf version)
   
10. Mirwais: Never young again
11. Ratatat: Wildcat
12. Ok Go: Get over it
13. Yo La Tengo: Autumn sweater
14. Brother Ali: Forest Whitaker
    
15. Nas: Hip hip is dead
    
16. DJ BC and the Beastles: Whatcha want lady?
    
17. E.L.O.: Don't bring me down
    
18. The first 13 seconds of Freebird
19. G-love and Special Sauce: Honor and harmony
    
20. The White Stripes: Denial twist
    
21. Incubus: Under my umbrella
    
22. The String Cheese Incident: Resume man
    
23. The Chemical Brothers: The sunshine underground
    
24. Cake: Sad songs and waltzes
    
25. Romantica: Oscar Wilde
    
26. Ween: Bananas and blow
    
27. Semisonic: Singing in my sleep

I've got them all, I'd love to share them with you, and I'd love to hear what you've got too. Force your music on me, I beg of you.

peas.

The great camp robbery: a novel

I worked at a summer camp this summer, as I have for the last five summers. There’s an entire series of stories to be written about that world, but I’m going to keep it to one this time, hopefully.

Camp is -to just about everyone who is a part of it- a safe place. It’s a place without hatred, without animosity (you heard me Clifford, stay out,) and overall a place for getting away from the real world. Not so much for our (the staff’s) sake, but for the campers. A surprising number of campers come from low income families in poverty stricken areas of Minnesota. We even had a pair of brothers this summer who were fresh out of New Orleans. Their family had scraped together a hefty sum of money (camp ain’t cheap, as much as we’d like it be) to send these two boys away from the hell that their family was currently going through. We also see a surprisingly large number of children coming from abusive families. We actually have a legal procedure we have to go through if we as counselors are confided to about abuse. We’re bound by law to involve the proper authorities (as if we wouldn’t anyway) immediately. You wouldn’t expect it, but we get at least a couple of cases every summer.

What I’m trying to say here is summer camp is supposed to be a place for kids to get away from the stresses of regular life. Sadly, this isn’t always the case. This summer saw a rash of petty theft at Camp. In the span of three days, a 35mm camera was stolen out of a camper’s bunk (a camera that had been a gift from a now dead grandparent,) an iPod was stolen from that same camper the next day. An iPod was stolen out of a staff member’s CAR. Out of his car! Should he have locked it? Perhaps, but who raises their kids to think that going into someone else’s car is okay? Either way, this thief had some balls - the parking lot is in plain view of the camp office windows.

The same day, my iPod was taken off the desk in my cabin along with the charger. Again, yes, it should have been put away safely, but usually it was, and I was the counselor for the Counselors in Training – the golden children being groomed for staff next summer. I’d been on the Superior Hiking Trail with these guys for 6 days and I would have trusted them with my life, and with my life goes my tiny electronic toys.

The section our cabin was in (along with the other “victims”) was a flutter with conspiracy and investigation. We made an announcement that if the items weren’t returned to a designated public space (a countertop in one of the gathering spaces,) an investigation would begin. We gave them a chance to go back on their mistakes and return the stolen stuff. No such luck.

We got all the campers in the section together (13-17 year old guys) and left the room, asking them to agree upon a course of action. Yeah, we know a learning moment when we see one. The guys actually worked out a plan, they wanted all of their bags searched.

Wait, what? Wow.

We asked them if they were positive, and just about every camper was all for it. There was one group of kids, the too-cool kids, if you will, was literally squirming in their seats, asking odd questions, and generally being all sorts of suspicious. From that point, they were suspects number one, two and three.

The search began. We went cabin by cabin, with everyone sitting out in the space between the cabins. Every camper was present during the searching of his bags, as is policy. No stolen goods were found, and everything went well, except at the very end. I and the CIT’s were watching the rest of the campers while individuals went in to be searched. They let me search my CIT’s bags, as it was just about assured that none of them had taken it, these guys were flawless, as far as I knew. So, 5 of the 6 CITs have been searched, and now it’s time for the last one. I’m joking around with him as I go through his duffel bag. I reach into the bottom of a side pocket on his duffel bag and pull out a pipe. A pipe that reeks of ganje. Of course, the shit hits the fan at this point, as again, I’m bound by law to report this sort of stuff to the director. Long story short, my CIT gets sent home, solely based on policy. The pipe had apparently been in that bag for a couple of years, and the bag had been under the guy’s bed for the same amount of time, he was a long reformed pothead, and camp was his escape from his troubled family. Had I not dug the pipe up, it would have no doubt stayed there until the guy went back home, and probably long after that.

This is starting to get long, so I’m going to wrap it up with all due haste. We never found the stolen stuff, but another iPod went missing from the personal locker of another staff member. The only other person who knew that the iPod was in the locker, much less in existence (it had just been purchase) was the victim’s co-counselor. Shit-fan contact once again. The co-counselor’s stuff was searched, and another iPod charger was found in his possession, one that was clearly marked with a symbol that had been put there by it’s proper owner (one of the other victims.) All of a sudden things get hush hush, and the suspected staff member is sent home, and the administration wont talk about it. I asked if it had anything to do with the stolen stuff, and I was told that they had reason to believe that he had taken at least some of it, but was being fired (and banned from camp property) for another more serious reason that they weren’t allowed to discuss with me.

What? Shit…

So, to summarize for those who skipped ahead, because of this guy who stole this shit, not only are several people out several hundred dollars, but several days of camp were disrupted for a third of the camp, campers lost their faith in their peers, a CIT was sent home from camp, and the sanctity of the camp environment was shattered for many. I’m actually sick of writing about this now, I forgot that there was a lot to this story that needed explaining. If it seems like I left anything critical out, ask me about it.

What’s that? A light at the end of the tunnel? A happy ending? No, it couldn’t be. Yes! I finally got up the balls to buy a new iPod yesterday! This is a big deal for me. Once again, finally, I will never be without music. If something needs a soundtrack, BAM, I’m studying to Yo La Tengo: Autumn Sweater, or driving to Muse: Knights of Cydonia, or walking to school to Dexy’s Midnight Runner:….no…I take that back.

Radio show! Thursday Night! 1am! Listen to it! Exclamation Point!

Stop me if you've heard this

So, creativity. What a weird concept. The basic human urge to make things for no reason other than personal satisfaction and fulfillment. For some reason, I always told people that I was incredibly uncreative and lacked whatever that magic spark was that made a person creative. Of course, foolish was I, who spent too much time thinking about what I should be doing rather than what I want to be doing. I’d think “why aren’t I more artistic or creative like So and So?” But who the hell cares what So and So is doing? (I have reason to believe So and So is a real wanker anyway.) I’ve been repressing the things I want to do for fear that someone, somewhere out there might not think it’s all that great.

All that aside, I can proudly say to you, internet, that I’ve branched the hell out into all sorts of things that I’ve wanted to do in the last few months, and it’s awesome. No other word but that delightfully cliché surfer term can describe it properly. I’ve taken up playing the drums, I’ve got this radio show, I make beer, (if you haven’t already tried it, I have a bottle with your name on it,) and now I’ve got a blog to boot.

I’ve secretly wanted to do something like this (blog) for a long time, but I’ve never really gotten around to it, and it takes some serious self prodding (and some from Anniemosity) to sit down and write my thoughts, as they’re usually zooming about in a chaotic New-York-City-rush-hour fashion through my neural pathways.

On a side note, I’ve had “Loud Pipes” by Ratatat on continuous loop since I started writing this, and it has made the whole writing thing much easier, I’d recommend it. Shoot me an IM (claytron1313) if you’re curious and I’ll send you the track. It’s…well…it’s boss. There I said it.

One more thing before I end this, if you’re not doing anything on Thursday nights at 1am (I know, it’s usually a really busy time for me too) I recommend you tune your radio-box to 103.3FM or go to KUMD.org and check their streaming audio link. I’ve got this radio show wherein I play an eclectic mix of music across a satchel-full of genres. Seriously, I’d love if you’d listen. One of the greatest feelings I’ve discovered is sharing music with others, and having music shared with me. But I’ll get into that in another post I’m sure.

Oh, and 63hz is the frequency at which the human head resonates. When you’re at a hip-hop show, and it feels like the drummer’s got his kick drum pedal right up to your temple? That’s 63hz,

and so am I.

Peace.

A Disclaimer

There will be things here. Just not right this second. Keep hitting refresh (F5) and eventually there will be a blog. Some patience required.