Cerberus Vol. 3(10)
Baby Boomers selling you rumors of history…
Preamble
Hopefully you all enjoyed your fertility festival weekend however you celebrated. It’s a time of the year when my wife buys chocolate “for the kids” but we end up eating most of it and feeling guilty about our poor choices. Of course, this all occurs under the auspicious of making sure our kids aren’t subjected to too much of an unhealthy thing. We’ve cast ourselves as the unwitting heroes who pulls the pin on our own sweet tooth grenades only to fall on them.
But it’s starting to feel like Spring in various part of the northern hemisphere, so hopefully you enjoy the warm glow of the sun’s rays even if you’re goth. I prefer dimly lit places (my office/music room is in a spot in our basement with no direct sunlight) but even I have found myself soaking up as much sun as my ghostly presence can handle. It’s good, I’m told.
Know what else is good for you? These musical objects!
Reviews
Luke Stewart / Patrick Shiroishi — Staying Human
The title alone of this collab between Stewart and Shiroishi is striking. The idea that, as a species, we continue to lose part of our beings to the various physical and psychic wounds we inflict on each other. If we learned anything from the pandemic, it’s that humans are both resilient and caring creatures, while others are selfish and pander to their worst instincts even when faced with inconvenience.
Staying Human is in service to both sides, pleading for us to remain true to each other. The A side begins with Shiroishi’s lonely saxophone reverberating around a parking garage, reminding us of the beginning of this pandemic and how ghostly most of us became for a time. Those deep echoes bounce not only off concrete slabs of capitalistic brutalism but penetrate our flesh to ping off our brittle bones. It’s been a long year of sacrifice — some handling it better than others. With the recent uptick in out-in-the-open hate crimes against Asian, black, and LGBT+ peoples (and let’s be honest, against anyone who isn’t white and Christian), Shiroishi’s isolated blasts bring a hefty dose of sad reality. These are the pangs of loss, remembrances, and forgetfulness. Again, it is the blessing and curse of humanity to have short-term memories. Some will learn and be better; others will find themselves stranded and alone in a car park to become further radicalized and isolated from what it means to exist in a community that can and should uplift all voices. But Shiroishi doesn’t abandon hope on the titular track. He finds his way to lifting up his saxophone’s bellows into glorious, triumphant runs. It’s all we can do to try to reach out a hand for those willing to accept it.
Stewart’s solo piece, “Works for Pioneer Works,” begins even more ominously than Shiroishi’s. It mimics the ominous foreboding found in John Williams’ theme from Jaws. But rather than in the water, Stewart finds his foil in the very room in which his recording is taking place. Stewart is interacting with the atmosphere, causing these sounds to blossom and die like a king or god. Where Shiroishi’s commentary felt like Moses receiving the message, Stewart is delivering it from on high. His is a forceful one, almost vengeful. But soon, even Stewart reminds himself of the mantra: staying human. The room begins to feel less tense and Stewart in turn begins to settle down into more meditative practices. The mood begins with a snarl, turns into a low growl, and then settles into a contemplative hum.
Both pieces speak to our isolation, and the request of remain true to our best selves. Shiroishi’s isolation is different than Stewart’s. In a parking garage, there are many exits; some even shoot straight into the open skies. In a room, there may be few exits. Someone else can control the key or the locks. But both can speak to different areas of the human psyche and create differing visceral reactions. Staying Human runs the gamut, but Stewart and Shiroishi always return us back to a state where we can better ourselves; where we can move forth and hopefully propel positive discourse and action toward the betterment of our damaged species.
Alan Wilkinson & Dirk Serries — One in the Eye
Jandek meets jazz on this frenzied, free-form album from the duo of Wilkinson and Serries. Serries guitar is a blunt tool through One in the Eye, seemingly attacking like the dirt clod or poking thumb attacking our ocular nerves. His playing is a series of rough strums and a handful of plucks like a farmer desperate defeathering a chicken before Sunday dinner. Wilkinson uses clarinet and saxophone as substitutes for his speaking voice. It comes damn close to sounding lucid during “In the Here and Now”, though Wilkinson does let out a vocal yelp on the album’s titular track. But it’s when he transforms his brass or woodwind instrument into exuberant scatting that it pairs best with Serries’ unyielding spasms. Whatever decorum each has agreed upon in their free-form explorations, I have not an idea. But I like where they are headed, because clearly neither has the patience for following a strict set of rules of how jazz is supposed to act or sound.
Brin, Dntel &More Eaze —
Futurangelics
We often find ourselves wondering aloud the definition of pop music. Must it be a chart topper? Must it have some form of a groove that people can dance to? Must the target be a specific demographic? The truth is pop music is universal and can do whatever it dare pleases. Much like pop art, it is distilled in the very essence of humanity: whatever speaks to us can be heard through the prism of pop. It is both a powerful and lazy tool. It is both democratic and authoritarian. It can be organic material or lab-created product.
This vivisection of pop and its surrounding culture is happening in real time throughout Futurangelics. Pardon the graphic imagery, but this album is living and breathing pop fundamentals in real time. It pulsates and radiates a strange, familiar energy without adhering to whatever principles of “catchy” modern radio and studio Svengalis deem worthy. And yet, one can’t help but notice how infectious and cultural Futurangelics feels. In fact, “We Find Our Center” feels like I’m witnessing this living creature giving birth to a new iteration of pop. It’s a mammal, it’s in an egg, it’s binary fission.
As we go deeper into the anatomy of Futurangelics, the more rudimentary its pop applications become. Motor skills begin to falter during “Waver” as it watches its new hatchling begin to evolve. The pop baby sprouts wings and flies away during the climax of “Echo Park Vapor Ceremony”. The new form of pop saying goodbye to its parent, having become something new but still recognizable.
Futurangelics is all of these things. It’s familiar but new; an evolution of previous pop concepts brought forth by Mari, Jimmy, and Colin. But rather than studying it — rather than feeling the need to slice and dice it — I suggest just observing it. Start by playing the whole album, then doing it again but in reverse. Then scramble the playlist. Then listening to one song per day over and over. Only then will you begin to see just how majestic it is, a proper pop album for a decidedly non-pop audience.
Belial Pelegrim — The Unsettled Dust
A trip to a more funkier satellite, The Unsettled Dust speaks to the excitement of exploration. Like a great video game or film soundtrack, Belial Pelegrim has crafted music to navigate through circumstances of varying degrees or weight. Opener “Creatures” feels more organic and vivid than some of the lush swells of 65DaysofStatic’s No Man’s Sky soundtracks. In the hands of Belial Pelegrim, exploration becomes a shared experience rather than an isolated affair.
I find myself in the same headspace listening to The Unsettled Dust as I did this time last year enveloped in the grooves of Jimmy Lacy’s SiP. Though both occupy different spaces in terms of influence and output, the positivity of regeneration coupled with the constant flow of good vibes is sorely needed. To be able to vibe with a moment and have it create a positive headspace is key. Put this on while completing chores and it feels like your checklist of home projects becomes a list of what must be done to reach the next level; to obtain the next power up; to befriend the next NPC and get your next destination.
Parting Thoughts
Recently finished Girl on Film by Cecil Castellucci, which is a graphic bildungsroman of Cecil’s upbringing. A child of scientists and researchers, she attends the famed high school for the performing arts in the mid-80s, befriending the likes of Chaz Bono and Jennifer Aniston, run ins with firefighter-turned-actor Steve Buscemi, the constant struggle of imposter syndrome, and the travails of being young and broke. Sometimes it reads like a starfucker graphic novel, but most of the time Castellucci remains focused on her art while also interweaving research on memory (in panels featuring her father and his work). Its best message is a simple one: follow your muse.
I’m not a Marvel Cinematic Universe person, but I binged the first three episodes of “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier” Friday evening. If those two don’t become a romantic couple by the end of this season, I’m out. The chemistry is too good — and yes, not all fantastic couples have to end up as romantic couples — but can’t it happen this time? I mean, Captain America’s spirit basically makes them a throuple, right?
