Almost Famous

March 13, 2013

I watched Almost Famous last night. It got me thinking about a few things. First of all, Kate Hudson circa the year 2000 is adorable. I decided I kind of want to be her character for Halloween next year, so if any of you would like to be the members of Stillwater or her Bandaid crew, let me know, we can start planning now. Secondly, I wonder if anyone’s last words really were, “I’m on Drugs.” Probably. I guess it’s not the worst thing you could phonate before you die, you could have said, “I think I just farted,” and that might be worse. Thirdly, I decided I want a goofy british man to be my tour manager for the next run, so if anyone fits those qualifications, post below in the comments.

But really, what this movie got me thinking about is records. Albums. The full 10-12 song creation that is the birth child of a frustrated, or inspired, or depressed, or enlightened, or overjoyed, or in love, or heartbroken artist. There is a scene at the beginning of Almost Famous where William’s older sister, played by Zoe Deschanel, gives him a parting gift right before she hops in a car and runs off to become a stewardess. She tells him to look under his bed for a present and leaves him with the words, “someday you will be cool.”

Under his bed, William finds a box of Vinyl records. Not just any collection of records, but the absolute legends: Blue by Joni Mitchell, Pet Sounds by the Beach Boys, Led Zeppelin II, and more. Inside the last record in the box, Tommy by The Who, William’s sister leaves him a little note. It says, “listen to Tommy with a candle burning and you will see your entire future.” We then see young William delicately place the record on his turntable, light a candle, and as the crackle begins the director crossfades us to the rest of the movie. This moment made me think about the last time I turned down the world, turned off my cell phone, and just listened to an album from top to bottom. I remember laying on the carpeted floor on the basement of my childhood home when I was 12, listening to Norah Jones’ “Come Away with Me”, from #1-#14, and watching as the stories she sang about so beautifully danced across the ceiling. I remember my very first night sleeping in a cabin at camp. I pulled my CD player out from under my pillow, put on my cheap plastic headphones, and popped in an album that my brother gave me from this new band called Coldplay. “Don’t Panic” and “Yellow” became my secret night time anthems as I would snuggle into my sleeping bag and feel the cold breeze come through the screen walls of the cabin. I remember really discovering Joni Mitchell for the first time freshman year of college and how I couldn’t stop listening to Blue, trying to suck in her poetry like a baby finding air for the first time.

I realized, as I started journeying through my musical story, that it’s been quite a while since I listened with my absolute full attention to an album top to bottom. In the age of singles, YouTube, Spotify, and instant gratification, I have forgotten the power of the full album. Knowing all the lyrics on my favorite or even my second or third favorite albums used to be second nature for me. Now, I can’t think of more than a few albums that have come out in the last couple years where I know every single track, let alone the lyrics. I skip tracks half way through if they don’t grab my attention right away and I skip from artist to artist as I try to keep up with the scene. Often I’m occupied with other things while I’m listening, whether it’s responding to emails or scrolling through my newsfeed. The Spotify app on my phone is permanently in shuffle mode (if anyone knows how to fix this, please let me know) so even when I want to listen to a record top to bottom I end up just shuffling around it, not paying attention to the order the artist intentionally picked out.

I wonder, though, if any of my apathy towards albums has come about as a reaction to the fact that many artists don’t really see the point in releasing full albums these days anyways. Have we as artists discarded the importance of crafting an album from top to bottom? Technically, 10-12 songs used to make up an album because that’s what would fit onto the physical Vinyl. Obviously times have changed since then, maybe 3 songs is enough to get the job done now. I know that I’ve found myself talking about “singles” versus “album tracks” and the thought has crossed my mind that only singles matter and the rest can be less focused. Is that true? Do fully realized, conceptualized albums matter in today’s world?

I don’t know what the final answer is. On the one hand, I think just one song can change your life. Often, it’s just one song that sticks in your head, just one song that you sing out loud to. On the other hand, when that song in encased in a truly thought out and honest album, I think that song and that artist not only change your life, but they imprint on your soul. The scene in Almost Famous reminded me that albums do have the power to “show you your future.” Fleetwood Mac’s “Rumours” can take you on a journey through the deep complications of love and honesty. Bon Iver’s “For Emma, Forever Ago,” can grant you the gift of solitude as the album transports you to Justin Vernon’s cabin in the winter woods, giving you the time you need to decompress and reflect about loss or rebirth, loneliness or beauty. Human beings are complicated, we have many shades, and I think an album allows the artist and the listener to tap into the different and vital colors of our being.

So maybe we don’t need exactly 10-12 songs to constitute “deep” or “life changing” art, but I do think it takes more than one song to truly reveal a musician’s purpose and impact. One painting can make an artist famous, but I think it’s their full body of work that can make their art timeless. Doing one Yoga pose can be good for your health, but getting through an entire class is where a shift in mind and body can happen. One chapter can give you perspective, but it’s the entire book that tells the story. Ultimately, I think that now more than ever we need artistic mediums to help us slow down, to help us take time out of our fleeting, fast, plugged in world and go beyond the surface of our joys, our sadnesses, and our concerns. I think we need more than singles and EPs to reveal new shades of ourselves, to tell us new stories, and to help us turn down the noise in our minds and turn up the presence in our souls.

At the end of Almost Famous, Rolling Stone magazine chooses this headline for their much anticipated cover story: “Stillwater Runs Deep!” I think there’s a journey of depth that we are forgetting to take these days. We don’t always need to move quickly and hastily forward. Sometimes, the journey downward and inward is the most rewarding. An album has the power to lead you down that path, if you let it.

Almost Famous Soundtrack - http://open.spotify.com/user/jobruce/playlist/6EspyM06NB4nTgtS7CsipW

The Art of Starting.

March 06, 2013

I realize, that I’ve had a misconception about “starting.” My thought has been that in order to “Start” something, there has to be some level of anxiety involved. Starting a paper, starting to work out again, starting to eat healthy. My past method of accomplishment has proven true: That if I avoid, stew and stress about something for long enough, eventually, the pressure will build up, my tea kettle will scream bloody murder, and I will be forced to start the thing I’ve been meaning to start for however long I’ve been meaning to start it, lest, I let my pot explode. It’s exhausting. I’ve been wanting to start (and have been avoiding to start) writing a blog for the past year now. Apparently, after a long boil, today was the day that my tea kettle decided it was ready to sing. There is, however, perhaps another reason other than built up anxiety that decided to start writing this morning.

A couple days ago, I was visiting a friend who told me about the beauty of making a decision. This person is one of those people who, as Thoreau puts it, “sucks the marrow out of life.” When you ask her about her day, she’ll respond with casual stories about normal, boring activities such as trapeze flying or sky diving or doing yoga on a paddle board in the middle of the ocean. She lives 3 days inside one and chooses to forego regrets. I would often look at this cheery friend of mine and wonder how she does it. Sometimes, the idea of doing everything she was able to accomplish in a day seemed exhausting. I could only imagine how many pots she had boiling at once in order to dive into the plethora of new things she takes on. The other day, however, she unknowingly granted me her greatest little pearl of wisdom.

As I was anxiously staring at a blank text curser on my iPhone screen, wondering whether to text someone my “yes” or my “no” answer about something that I now can’t even remember, my friend looked at me and said, “JUST make a decision. Whether you do it or not, JUST decide.” She then explained to me that a few years ago, she made the decision to start making decisions. Not hastily or irresponsibly, but just clearly, simply and swiftly. “If you think about the amount of energy we spend trying to make a decision, you begin to see how much time and energy you’re wasting,” she said. “Once you decide whether or not to do something, anxiety goes away, and focus takes it’s place. I just decide to go to Yoga or go rock climbing or go on a date and then I just do it. It’s really that simple.” I listened to this and turned to my little blinky text curser, JUST decided what I wanted to do, and I sent my decision. She was right, I was instantly relieved.

Now, this jewel of wisdom may seem obvious. I’ve heard it before, “Just Do It!”, “Take Your Life Into Your Own Hands!”, “Be the change you want to see in the world!” The dream of living without anxiety has been mine for as long as I can remember and it has always felt impossibly impossible. The idea that a method of “deciding to decide” could change my life didn’t cross my mind in the moment my friend mentioned it. I simply sent my little text message and moved on. As I headed home from her house, however, the conversation came back to me. I realized the beauty of turning off the stove, removing the tea kettle, and living a life where “starting” becomes a simple choice versus a year long internal battle. I realized that this little fire burning inside of me and keeping the water boiling, this fire that could ultimately force me to accomplish things, was actually fear. Fear has been the driving factor, keeping me in it’s grips and causing me to over think, avoid, or DO. I fear failure and so I fear making the wrong decision. I fear judgment and so I avoid doing. Ultimately, I fear disappointing others and so once I can’t take the heat anymore, I end up doing. I finally saw that in just deciding to decide, I could remove fear from my process. I really could turn off the fire and it would be ok. I could decide to stop stewing and I could decide to start starting.

So today, I did things I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. I woke up early and I went to Yoga at 7am. I warmed up my voice with my classical training and I practiced new music I needed to learn. I made a great breakfast and I signed up for guitar lessons in my neighborhood. I drank tea today instead of coffee and I sat down and wrote this blog. I still have the whole day left for me and I feel great. None of these accomplishments deserve an award or even a pat on the back, but all these simple things I did today, they had all previously spent their time on the stove top. Stewing, boiling, steaming. And why? Because I was afraid to make the decision of do or don’t do. I was afraid to start.

Now that I’ve figured out how to start…if I could only figure out how to finish this blog…

& Heart - LYRICS

January 04, 2012

& Heart

VERSE 1
The fall is here, my sister’s home again
A baby waits beneath her skin
Who she is, who she’s meant to be
Is sweetly tied to what’s within

PRE-CHORUS
And we cross the stepping stones
Grateful I don’t have to go alone
Is all that I could ever know all that I could ever hope to be

CHORUS
If this is my last request
To take love and make the best
I’d fall down on broken leaves
And live for the simple things
Oh I’d take every moment and hope be my path
And you take my weary hand, and heart

VERSE 2
Yesterday, I saw my Grandpa’s grave
And I wrote a note, and tried to pray
So many days where I don’t feel ok
Help me find my way

PRE-CHORUS
And we walk among the stones
Hopeful I won’t have to go alone
Is all that I could ever know more than I could ever hope to be

CHORUS
If this is my last request
To take love and make the best
I’d fall down on broken leaves
And live for the simple things
Oh I’d take every moment and hope be my path
And you take my weary hand, and heart

PRE-CHORUS
You’re all that I could ever know
All that I could ever know
And more than I could ever hope to be

CHORUS
If this is my last request
To take love and make the best
I’d fall down on broken leaves
And live for the simple things
Oh I’d take every moment and hope be my path
I’d follow your footprints and never look back
I’ll be ok when you take my hand
and heart