Tonight the prestigious Massey Hall welcomed a masterful double bill of Owen Pallett and Tanya Tagaq. These Canadian artists both incorporate the violin into their acts, but that's where their similarities end. They are equally mesmerizing performers, but their methods are polar opposites from one another, yet still complementary in the span of an evening.
No need to list off Pallett's resume, as Google can do that far more effectively than I can. Suffice to say, he has worked with some of the biggest names in the business and has played on a Grammy award-winning record. As a condiment his achievements are plenty to a point that most artists would find themselves fully satisfied, but Pallett always strives for more. As the main dish he truly has his own identity. You are watching the evolution of music before your eyes.
Sonically he is a force to be reckoned with. Although he has a rhythm section accompanying him (and, on this occasion, a string quartet), he creates panoramic soundscapes on his own with his looper pedal, which he even referred to as a "party trick" before playing a couple of comparatively conventional pieces. Pallett is an intense guy, yet he ensures not to take himself too
seriously, with just enough self-deprecating commentary between songs. His 75 minute set went down extremely well.
Juno award-winning singer Tanya Tagaq began her set by introducing her band, the 60 piece choir, and its conductor. Her demeanour was that of Shirley Temple with a fire in her belly. She had the whimsical temperament of a child, speaking in such a way that we felt like we were cordially invited guests into her living room, unable to hide her excitement for her inaugural performance at Massey Hall. Her warmth was infectious, and we fell in love with her instantly. Deep down inside she surely knew that she was establishing an extreme in her informality with her banter, as the intensity of her performance would soon have her reaching the polar opposite extreme. But this is where the calculated part of the evening ends.
Known for her Inuit throat singing, the hour-long improvisation piece started more like The Rose meets Nine Inch Nails. Within a few minutes, it was reminiscent of the middle section of Led Zeppelin's Whole Lotta Love being sung by Bjork. She commanded the stage, both with her five octave vocal range and captivating movements not unlike interpretive dance.
The piece was a journey through a wide variety of moods and musical conversations between the 65 people on stage. About two thirds into the performance, the combination of her voice and mannerisms felt like an erotic battle cry.
The light show was very effective, only augmenting the experience rather than compensating for something that wasn't there. With Tagaq it's all about the aural. And it was more than music. It was a pinnacle of human expression. Unbridled spontaneous creativity at its finest.
Heard live, her music sounds almost nothing like it does on YouTube. The natural reverberation of a fine-sounding concert venue like Massey Hall creates the perfect setting for what she's trying to achieve with her art.
And the best part is - since her performances are entirely improvised, her next show will be almost nothing like this one.
Scouring the restaurants of (mostly) America sure has its advantages when you venture off the beaten path. Sometimes having the Yelp app is handy, but there's also a joy in stumbling upon something fantastic because you simply felt like walking around.
Touring with a rock band usually results in one nighters where you don't see much more than a hotel, a dressing room, a stage and a van. But when you're with a touring freak show (read: musical) and you sit in a city for a week, you're granted the freedom to explore. Unless it's a hundred degrees outside, you're not going to stay in your hotel room when there are new worlds (and foods) to be found.
This is my baker's dozen of foods I experienced in about 35 cities in North America.
13. Causa de Salmon @ Mango Peruvian Cuisine in St. Louis
The menu said - "Aji amarillo infused potato cake chilled & layered with salmon salad, sliced egg & avocado finished with red pepper aioli." Gesundheit. I took one bite, died and went to non-denominational and evidenced-based heaven, and promptly ordered something else on the menu. The item on the left is called Pascualina, which was kind of like a quiche, but not nearly as greasy.
12. Seitan Bowl @ Native Foods Cafe in Chicago
Hands down, the best vegetarian restaurant I've ever eaten at. I went three more times that week.
On the wall they had a dictionary explaining the difference between things like seitan and tempeh. Although they're both soy based, they're just as different as steak and scallops. And both delicious.
11. Schnitzel @ Schmidt's Sausage Haus in Columbus
Columbus is a very cultured city. There is a German section of town, and this place is right in the heart of it. There aren't a lot of spots to find a quality schnitzel in America, so this was a welcome surprise. The employees even dressed in Lederhosen, much to my delight.
"I'm only making $7.95 an hour. Please don't make this any more humiliating."
10. Traditional Mexican food at ... any place in Mexico
A few steps away from the hotel, we went to this place at least once a day during our two weeks in Mexico City. Just cheese, beans and chicken, but prepared in a way you can only get in Mexico.
9. Street meat at ... any place in Mexico
They make the corn tortillas right in front of you. No Tex Mex place or grocery store sells anything that remotely compares. This is the real thing, and you can only find it on the streets of Mexico. This particular stall was fortunately right next to the Auditorio Nacional, where my show had a residency for two weeks. Needless to say, I put their kids through college.
The meat on the left was the equivalent to a year being taken off your life. But it's that year at the end when nobody comes to visit you, anyway.
8. Belgian Waffle in Huatulco, Mexico
Literally a hole in the wall. There were two tables. And they served this:
The one and only moment in Mexico where I wasn't thinking about tacos.
It easily rivaled the best waffles in Europe.
7. Smoked salmon crepe @ Crepes du Nord in Bridgeport, NJ
One of the few bus trips of the tour had us stopping at this mall in New Jersey. In addition to the standard food court options, there was a stall that served crepes, only one of three locations of this small chain. The house crepe was the best crepe I've eaten in my life - smoked salmon, egg, dill sauce and chives.
The only thing that would have made this better is a building permit to bring their business to Canada. I'd even go to Buffalo for this. Yes, Buffalo.
6. Ethiopian dish in Washington, D.C.
I wish I could remember what the dish was called or where it was, but it was in Georgetown near Embassy Row. Par excellence.
5. Traditional Japanese Breakfast in Vancouver
There are countless Japanese breakfast places in Vancouver, and just about any one of them will get you something that looks like this:
4. Pesto Quinoa dish in my hotel room
Based on a dish I found in Washington DC, I eventually concocted my own version that was even better. It's boiled quinoa dressed in pesto sauce with spinach, sausage and sweet peppers. The only major difference between the restaurant's version and mine was the portion size. This is a hefty meal; ridiculously easy to make and ridiculously delicious. And pretty healthy.
Proof that anything can be concocted in a hotel room.
3. Zombie Burger in Des Moines, IA
This place is a national treasure, and it's easy to see why. You get far more than a hamburger here. I'd actually recommend them for their salads before the burgers. Exquisite.
2. Papusas @ street market in LA
There's a street market in the Silver Lake area that has a slew of interesting ethnic foods, and this was a combination of Salvadorian foods. Papusas are kind of like pancakes, but with a lot more depth. It came with a few trimmings that I'd never heard of, but it sure was a culturing experience.
1. Currywurst @ Berlin Currywurst in LA
The Grand Central Market in LA has so many amazing stalls that it was hard to pick one thing. Until I ate at Berlin Currywurst, which dwarfs them all. I've had nothing like it in my life - it's a base of hash browns, sausage, and sauerkraut with a fried egg and curry sauce on top. Without the slightest hesitation I can say this is the single best meal I ate on tour. All four times I had it.
Honourable mentions:
Baltimore - salmon. East coast seafood has its reputation for a good reason. $30 for a piece of fish and couscous, but you get what you pay for, which includes the location - prime real estate on the waterfront.
Raleigh, NC - black bean burger @ Bahama Breeze. The best veggie burger there is.
Philadelphia - coconut tofu. Hip City Veg is one of the best vegetarian restaurants in existence.
Mazunte, Mexico - enfrigoladas. This rice dish tends to have a bean base (hence "frijol"), but some places go the extra mile and include eggs, meat and vegetables galore.
St Louis - toasted ravioli. It's a cultural staple. Delicious beyond belief.
Detroit - French toast. The best French toast of my life was consumed at the Hudson Cafe. We waited an hour for a table, but it was well worth it.
Toronto - pad Thai. The Evergreen was home to the best pad Thai I've ever had (although I've never been to Thailand). The place actually shut down while I was in Toronto for a two week tour stop. I went there with one band member on a Wednesday and wanted to take another band member on the Saturday, and by then newspaper was covering the walls, appended by a sign saying there was a sushi restaurant coming soon. Just what Toronto needs - more sushi.
For decades Rush has been referred to by fans and critics alike as the thinking man's rock band. After learning of Neil Peart's extensive book collection shortly after he joined the band in 1974, Geddy Lee and Alex Lifeson thought, "Hey, maybe this guy can write lyrics." They weren't wrong. His diverse and insightful musings about everything from nuclear weapons to the complexities of relationships have filled Rush albums for the last 40 years.
#5. Resist
One of the best examples of the inner workings of Peart's insatiable mind is 'Resist' off 1996's Test For Echo.
"I can learn to resist anything but temptation I can learn to coexist with anything but pain I can learn to compromise anything but my desires I can learn to get along with all the things I can't explain"
Powerful words put to perfectly complementary musical tapestry. It speaks of a spirit on a never ending search, yet at peace with what cannot be rationalized. It was all the more personal when performed acoustically in the early 2000s. A gorgeous track in either setting.
"I can learn to close my eyes to anything but injustice"
Peart could have taken this one line and turned it into an anthem for (insert NGO here), but his songs tend to be novels covering enough bases that no single idea emerges victorious. And as you grow, lines that once passed you by suddenly have an effect on you years after you heard them for the first time. If this isn't good art, then I don't know what is.
#4. The Wreckers
Most bands from the 70s who still exist today are dialing it in on autopilot, riding on the coattails of their past. Rush, on the other hand, are flying high. They're arguably more popular now than ever, especially now that the kids have played the entire Moving Pictures album on the Rock Band video game. The generational gap at Rush concerts has never been more apparent, and of course this is a good thing. But equally importantly, they remain relevant.
Their last two albums have received rave reviews, some even comparing them to their finest work at their creative peak. 'Clockwork Angels', released in 2012, was highly anticipated and well worth the wait. It is an exquisite blend of the vintage Rush sound with a sense maturity and self-realization of the fact that they aren't spring chickens anymore. In the anthemic chorus of 'The Wreckers', Peart spills his wisdom:
"All I know is that sometimes the truth is contrary, everything in life you thought you knew All I know is that sometimes you have to be wary of a miracle too good to be true All I know is that sometimes the truth is contrary, 'cause sometimes the target is you"
Many people find themselves disliking Rush because of Geddy Lee's voice. Even many rabid fans would agree that he sounded anything from squeaky to obnoxiously high in the 70s. I actually prefer many later live renditions of the earlier material when Geddy's voice settled down into more of a baritone. With each passing album, Geddy has sounded more mature and grounded, channeling Peart's thoughts and visions with precision and emotion alike. Now at 60, with his age starting to show, his conviction remains unabated. In 'The Wreckers' he sounds like your uncle giving you life lessons that you luckily don't have to wait to learn until you're his age.
#3. La Villa Strangiato
Of all the instrumental pieces in their catalog, this extended piece from 1978's Hemispheres captures Rush at their hungriest and most virtuosic. Despite being at the peak of their powers, the complexity of the arrangements still forced them to record the piece in three separate sections and paste it together.
After a ripping flamenco flurry of an intro, the first of many themes is introduced and, like a story, every few bars a new character is introduced. After a few minutes of momentum are built, the tale takes a sharp left turn and soon Alex Lifeson gives a clinic on how to construct a guitar solo that captures every emotion a guitarist can go through in sixteen bars of music. While Rush may be thought of as a nerdy band, here Lifeson gets as close to sex as any of their bare-chested contemporaries. He begins sparsely and slowly builds to a fulfilling climax, maintaining utmost intensity through the peaks and valleys. Simply marvellous.
Even amongst people who hate Rush, Geddy Lee is widely recognized as one of rock's finest and most innovative bassists. He is featured heavily in this piece, taking his Chris Squire-influenced sensibilities to great heights. And just when you think they've thrown in the kitchen sink, a homage to a classic 1930s piece called Powerhouse (recognizable to many as the Looney Tunes assembly line music) is cleverly woven in.
This is, hands down, one of the finest pieces of rock music ever laid down to tape.
#2. Mission
Plenty of Rush fans maintain that 1987's Hold Your Fire is their least favourite album, largely because Alex Lifeson is more of an afterthought compared to the main dish that he was in their classic era. Indeed, the album is very keyboard heavy, to the point that even they realized that they had exhausted this direction and took a back-to-basics approach on their next album, Presto. But while the guitar is sparse, many of the songs remain excellent. 'Mission' is undoubtedly one of them.
This song didn't hit me until my mid 20s. I only heard it a couple times as a teenager and it passed me by like much of the Rush synth era. That's just as well, as I wouldn't have understood this song's meaning as a youngster. Peart speaks of all-consuming passion, whatever such ideas may mean to you. He speaks first as one who observes, even envies someone with a sense of fiery attachment that they can't quite understand or relate to:
"I hear their passionate music Read the words that touch my heart I gaze at their feverish pictures The secrets that set them apart"
But the listener can't be fooled for long thinking this is in third person, as the poet manages to find the words that nobody on the outside of such experiences could ever come up with:
"In the grip of a nameless possession A slave to the drive of obsession A spirit with a vision is a dream with a mission"
By the time I had achieved some long-standing dreams of my own in my early 20s, this could certainly hit home. Peart soon jumps back to the outsider's perspective:
"If their lives were exotic and strange they would likely have gladly exchanged them for something a little more plain. Maybe something a little more sane"
This is to say "the grass is always greener on the other side," but far more poetically. Having a mobile job that leaves family and friends behind for months at a time - a lesson learned by countless singers, musicians, crew members, athletes, scientists, international aid workers - certainly can take its toll. And as someone who is one of these people, I can say without question that these few paragraphs of words from Neil Peart encapsulate the full spectrum of emotions one goes through on the road.
That said, working 70 hours a week in one place can certainly have similar effects. That's the beauty of art - what counts is what it means to you.
"We each pay a fabulous price for our visions of paradise But a spirit with a vision is a dream with a mission."
The lesson is - there are consequences no matter which path you choose in life. Red pill or blue pill. So choose your poison - door #1, or doors #2 through infinity. The former may seem safer, but these are usually the people who die with greater regrets. He who dies with the most stories wins.
And, for the record - Lifeson's solo at the end of the song slays.
#1. Time Stand Still
Choices made in "Mission" lead to the effects in "Time Stand Still." If you haven't caught on by now (and without trying to appear narcissistic - but it is my blog, after all!), these five songs represent five corners of my existence thus far. Most geometric objects (at least, those we normally see on a daily basis) tend to have an even number of corners, but most people who live a life as described in "Mission" are everything but square. Not even parallelogram.
Some days I feel more like a tetrahedral-octahedral honeycomb.
The song's title seems simple. Wanting time to stand still. But it's *how* he expresses it. He starts simply by referring to the daily grind and its associated regrets of not being able to do everything one wants to do:
"Driven on without a moment to spend To pass an evening with a drink and a friend"
Peart absolutely destroys me every time I hear this song. As the months and years pass by, as the people around me get older, as the time left to achieve what I want to accomplish in life diminishes (this isn't pessimistic - it's merely accurate mathematics), these words become more and more meaningful.
"Freeze this moment a little bit longer Make each sensation a little bit stronger Experience slips away"
Peart triggers every emotion inside me throughout the course of this song, and Lee sings it with such dramatic yet gentle guidance, as if to say there's still time to change your course of action so as not to fall into this trap permanently. The first chorus above represents childhood when compared to the more mature view of the world heard in the second chorus. Peart's sense of reflection in his middle age is clear:
"Freeze this moment a little bit longer Make each impression a little bit stronger Freeze this motion a little bit longer The innocence slips away"
Geddy's delivery of the third chorus tugs at my heartstrings unlike any other. Peart is now speaking from old age, where the changes of the seasons become fewer and the extra years see the generations pass before your eyes:
"Summer's going fast, nights growing colder Children growing up, old friends growing older"
If only I could imagine how this will make me feel when I'm twice my age. This may well be my single favourite piece of vocal music ever written.
All art is subjective to taste. Anyone with a smidgen of wisdom understands this. But separating quality art from one's tastes is a virtue. These five pieces of music represent five branches of self-expression that most artists would kill to have people en masse enjoy, be challenged by, or reflect upon even just ONCE. With me, Rush have profoundly succeeded five times. And undoubtedly there are countless people whose top five Rush songs are different from mine for equally or perhaps even more substantial reasons than mine. If you're out there, bring the fruits of your labours this way, please.
And if you still hate this band, at least after reading this you can hopefully appreciate the honest, personal art that they've created and understand how they've managed to sell 40 million albums with very few hit songs. And, as an added bonus, maybe you'll know me a bit better as well.
Craig's blog is always a fine read. He is a poet, passionate about the music he loves. Just over ten years ago he started a company called Classic Albums Live, dedicated to recreating albums live on stage exactly as they were recorded, note for note. Just find any YouTube video and see for yourself. Or this one:
It's perfect. And there's only one kind of perfect.
I've worked with Craig for a couple years now. His gigs are almost exclusively in theatres, and the standard for perfection is very high. 'Note for note' is not to be taken lightly. Having to play four instruments on a Led Zeppelin IV show taught me entirely new lessons on detail, preparation and mindfulness. I work in an environment with people who cherish and treat this music with the utmost respect it rightfully deserves.
Reading his latest blog entry got me thinking about the last few decades of music. There is no shortage of great music out there today, but I often wonder how much of the music recorded in the last 25 years will be listened to or reflected upon a century from now. Radiohead's OK Computer is the first one that comes to mind, but not too many others.
Indeed, rock as an art form peaked between 1967-75, but there have definitely been plenty of classic albums made post-Joshua Tree. Here are but a few:
Talk Talk - Spirit of Eden
Daniel Lanois - Acadie
Nirvana - Nevermind
U2 - Achtung Baby
Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream
Lauryn Hill - The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
Stone Temple Pilots - Purple
Oasis - (What's The Story) Morning Glory
Eva Cassidy - Songbird
Dream Theater - Scenes From a Memory
The Strokes - Is This It
The Arcade Fire - Funeral
Muse - Black Holes and Revelations
Rush - Clockwork Angels
^ not a single dud on any of these, and many of them have had a tremendous effect on the evolution of music and even popular culture. But how much of this will actually matter after we're all safely in our graves? Bach still matters, as does Vivaldi, Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, Ravel, Debussy, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky, Miles Davis, Coltrane, Elvis, The Beatles, Zeppelin, Floyd, Queen, Sinatra, Streisand and Michael Jackson. But what of the last 20 years is going to rank up there with this elite group of people who each weaved a piece of popular culture in their own image?
There are countless brilliant orchestral and minimalist composers contributing to the evolution of music in different ways, everything from John Williams to Philip Glass. Frank Zappa's later work is brilliant - Jazz From Hell and The Yellow Shark still boggle minds decades later. And there are guitarists like Tommy Emmanuel who blow all of the rock guys away. Many of his albums are classic albums to me. But not to everyone. And with good reason - so much music is available. Rarely do I meet two people with the same musical taste. Could we have said the same 30 years ago?
The late 60s and early 70s were a special time for music, no doubt. Money from record sales was pumped into artist development, and for all the right reasons. The industry wanted quality art that sold well. But by the time the digital and video age kicked in, something shifted. The focus slowly gravitated from the music to the image. Image was almost always a key component for the preceding couple decades, but it never superseded the music itself. MTV changed all that. And not necessarily all for the worse. Thriller happened, after all.
Most mainstream music today is disposable product designed to sell quickly until the next one arrives, just like most other products available on store shelves. But it is a dying breed. It still makes headlines, but the records aren't selling like they used to, for a myriad of reasons. Another piece of encouragement - the Coachella festival exists. It's the biggest annual music festival in the US, and very few of the artists who perform there would be described as mainstream.
Alan Cross recently noted that there were once a thousand artists each with millions of fans, and now there are millions of artists each with thousands of fans. And the first thing I thought was - what's wrong with that?
He's never wrong.
The distribution of music is changing. Thanks to the internet, a record company is no longer the only way your art can be heard by more than 12 people who live on your street. A growing number of artists see the downloading of their music as a form of promotion. Knowing they exist means you might come to the gig and buy the t-shirt, and that's where they actually make money.
Today's popular music consists of so many genres - rock, pop, bluegrass, whatever you call the Arcade Fire's vast array of influences and creations, r&b, soul and hip-hop, to name a few. Most of today's kids know everything. In the 70s you were either a Kiss fan or you listened to folk music. I guess my preference for for Carole King would've landed me in the latter group. In the 90s I was an outcast at school because I liked 70s rock and thought Mozart was cool. It was all so one-dimensional. But most of today's kids are diverse. They don't care what genre of music they enjoy or how old it is. They enjoy it all. The classic album is being replaced with diversity.
Rock may be dead, and the classic album may be dead too, but music sure isn't. It has more than a pulse - it is beating through the pulmonary arteries of the fans of millions of bands of all shapes and sizes. No single genre of music is particularly alive right now. Music is alive and well, and that's all that matters.
Today I witnessed someone refer to musicians who perform in tribute bands as, I quote, "pitiful
copyists who lack the breadth of musical understanding to break outside
one myopic microcosm of infantessimile repetition."
^ pseudo-intellectualism and disdain for the majority of musicians - united at last !
If
we say nay to tribute bands for the reasons mentioned above, then we
are also saying nay to performing any music written by people other than
ourselves. Let's look at this logically:
When
one first learns to play an instrument, they tend to play music written
by other people in order to learn the mechanics of the instrument. So if those
who interpret the music of others are actually hacks, then when does
that point come that they are required to stop playing the music of
others and exclusively play their own?
Yeah, 8 year old Mozart - how dare you play someone else's music in your spare time? Shouldn't you be busy composing?
So if they ultimately find their greatest passion in the music of others, they are somehow taking the wrong path in life because they aren't playing their original songs for 30 people in a pub who'd rather hear Some Kind Of Wonderful?
I'll bet you my paycheque from the gig that this guy does not want to hear the song I wrote last night.
The argument against tribute acts is thus: money should not be paid to experience old songs in a concert atmosphere because nobody's reinventing the wheel.
So
if tribute acts are a waste of time, energy, money and sperm, then by
that account so is every musician who interprets and performs music that
is more than ~60 years old - because all of those composers are dead.
So then we're advocating that all music after the lifetimes of its
respective composers should simply die with them?
Furthermore
- orchestral music tends to be composed by one person, not the entire
orchestra. So if the above argument stands, even those people
performing music written by someone else during their lifetime are also
hacks because they didn't bother to compose the music or collaborate in
some way with the composer during the creative process.
Sounds ludicrous when put like that, doesn't it ?
People
love music because it connects with them in some way, and nothing will
ever replicate the experience of live music. It takes great skill to
accurately interpret the music of another composer or artist, and people
love to experience it being done right. And it creates careers - in
pubs, in theatres, at weddings, at outdoor festivals and at corporate
events - in classical, jazz, opera, funk, r&b, rock and pop. Taking
this away would be akin to burning history books and abandoning
archaeology, as we'd essentially be saying there is no purpose in
preserving important and meaningful moments of our past.
As a professional musician who has been paid to perform both my own music and music written by others - I can say with complete conviction that there is absolutely no feeling like sitting in an empty theatre an hour before show time while they test out the lights, knowing that two thousand people have paid to come see you interpret a piece of music they have loved for decades and that you are going to be a small cog in that machine of time travel and sensory overload.
This process of musical delivery is far from superfluous, and likely one that the nay-sayers have benefited from without even realizing it. Long live the delivery of music in all its forms. In a world where we have enough things dividing us, music is a force to unite. Stop the squabbling and enjoy - with perspective.
Here is what I have learned in that cosmic instant of time. Entering my fourth decade I see this as a condensed version of my worldview. When I enter my fifth decade, I hope I will see this assessment of life as grossly incomplete and unevolved. But here be the state of the union at this point in my existence.
Life is beautiful. It is balance and equilibrium. It is a lesson waiting to be learned. At our peaks we flourish, and in our valleys we reflect. We bask in our glories and weather our storms.
For some people, glory is achieving a long term goal or living a moment where life's potential as we know it is maximized. For others, it's getting wasted on Saturday night after yet another unbearable week of choosing to do something they insist they don't want to be doing. The mere act of simply existing healthily is sufficient for many. Or anything in between. The full spectrum is at our fingertips. Our storms, if utilized correctly, are where we reassess our place in the grand scheme of things and recharge our batteries. The more storms we experience, the more efficient our storm-weathering skills become.
This world is a place of endless complexity and possibilities. Every possible degree from one extreme to another exists in virtually every thought, concept, practice and experience. This scares some people. It inspires others.
In this world there is no shortage of willful ignorance, selfishness, greed, corruption and hardship. But there is also a plethora of inspiration from people with no shortage of great ideas that make a profound difference in the world every day at every moment. An endless stream of possibility. And when we think everything has been discovered, that the end of art has arrived, that growth has been rendered somehow impossible - something new blows our minds.
The most basic and beautiful thing in our existence, love, has been packaged by corporations and sold back to us. Its meaning has been obfuscated by marketing and has evolved in ways it shouldn't have. But plenty of people see through the smoke. To those who do not subscribe to binary thinking, there is no shortage of alternatives to conventional thought. In fact, the very term "conventional" is losing its meaning when ideas at opposite ends of the world are now instantly connected by hand-held devices that are more powerful than the technology that sent man to the moon.
We have sent a robot to Mars and created music that lasts for centuries, yet we watch Jersey Shore and shoot an Afghan girl in the face because she wants to go to school. We chop down rainforests, and we track a penguin who traveled too far north. These activities are all indeed engaged in by the same species.
There is so much to be optimistic about. There is an infinite amount of possibility of knowledge, experience and progress to be made. One could argue on technicality that it is finite, but the fact that there are more possibilities than time to bring them all to fruition thus makes it infinite with respect to our individual lives. It is therefore mathematically impossible to be bored in this world. In fact, I advocate that the words "I'm bored" be banned.
A total solar eclipse was visible today in much of the southern hemisphere.
People turned up in Australia in large numbers. Some Queensland hotels had been booked more than three years in advance, and 50,000 people came to the region to see it. For those of us not in the sweet spot of viewability, technology came to the rescue.
There were two live streams at www.ustream.tv provided by a single crew. The stations were 70 km apart, just in case the weather didn't fully cooperate. Foresight is king. The primary angles were wrought with cloud throughout, but one of the alternates was completely unobstructed. Only one of the two streams had audio, so you could alt-tab between the two with no need to mute anything.
And the best part is - all of the technology was solar powered. Is there even a need to elaborate on the pure awesomeness of that statement?
The broadcast was a resounding success. Not a single glitch, audio nor video - and this is while I had about 30 other tabs open. To declare that spending 90 minutes of my life experiencing this powerful phenomenon from such a distance was a worthwhile investment of time would be an understatement. This kind of technological achievement did not even hit the radar of our wildest dreams a decade ago.
I took screenshots from the different angles at various intervals. The first image was taken seconds after the moon began to cover the sun, which they referred to as "first contact."
And finally, totality - which lasted about a minute and a half. During totality, animals armed with their sixth sense (read: virtually anything but humans) immediately tap into this new and foreign environment. They behave differently and make unusual sounds. Temperatures have been known to drop 20 degrees Fahrenheit lower than mere minutes earlier.
The sun is 390 times further from Earth and 390 times larger than the moon, which is why they appear to be the same size when they are lined up exactly. Neat how the universe has worked these delightful little things out.
Incredible shots from the first alternate angle:
A third angle:
And finally, a shot taken by the fine folks at NASA:
By sheer coincidence, my newest bucket list addition:
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