Listen, The Snow Is Falling*

For an artist to craft something so evocative that when you hear it, read it, see it, you immediately know what their performance/piece/painting/picture represents is remarkable and a gift that they bring to us via their art.

Galaxie 500 were a band with a devoted following during the late 1980s/early 1990s within indie music’s insular community. This three-piece played what I’d call “slowcore” and had an obvious affinity for The Velvet Underground.

The band released three studio albums between 1987 and 1991 when they split apart: Dean Wareham off to Luna and Damon Krukowski and Naomi Yang forming Damon & Naomi, focusing on dream pop splendor. Both post-Galaxie acts have remained active and viable since the three members went their separate ways.

Back of Galaxie 500’s “This Is Our Music” record jacket (Rough Trade, 1990)

When I’m home on Thursdays, I like to stream WFMU’s “This Is the Modern World With Trouble” program. Her station profile describe what she plays as “a viking ship appears on the horizon, a likeness of Loretta Lynn carved into its bow. Rare birds flock together to sing Francoise Hardy as soul hits. A sunset of blips and bleeps fills the air.” Continue reading

End-of-year Blog Settings

Re-calibrating my blog settings.

Re-calibrating my blog settings.

After publishing like clockwork for 50+ weeks since last year at this time (I think I’ve varied twice), the week following Christmas finds my blog schedule set on “random.”

How was everyone’s holiday? Despite my downer post, pre-Christmas, I actually rallied Christmas Eve and managed to keep the cheer rolling through Christmas Day. Perhaps it was my sister’s Baumer Bingo and assorted prizes (although, I came up empty). It might have been my ability to “screw up” whatever emotion is called for, whether I’m “feeling it,” or not. It might have simply been the magic of Cointreau and some holiday cocktails I tossed together over the two days of our holiday celebration.

Spending December 25th at the beach was a new experience. Miss Mary and I drove to Popham Beach State Park, along with what seemed to be everyone else in Southern Maine, as 60 degree December weather doesn’t happen every year on Christmas. Cars were lining the road as we approached the park gate (locked, as all park personnel had the day off). Many others decided to take their afternoon celebrations to the seashore. Continue reading