M O O Y

To put things in context I'll start off by informing you that I no longer drive. My main modes of transpo rely on walking or standing. There is great lack of sitting involved in my routine travels. To be completely honest, my ass has never been so aware of where we're headed as it consistently has during the past six months. Before making the move up to Millionaire Island there was a time, actually it was all the time, when I got around by plopping down between four wheels (in all honesty I think I've been a one of those six wheeled pickups twice in my life) and shutting the door behind me. Sure there were tapping of feet and palms placed upon the circular persuader, but you get the point that I rode in a car. After spending enough time I became privy to the notion that there was music that was most suitable for motoring around. To this day I'm not sure what qualifies a song to participate in this category but I'm sure it involves one part "shut you up" factor, one part "sing along-ness," and a complete lack of violins, woodwinds, or mopey lyrics.

Now that I'm walking a lot more I am finding that there is music that finds a home somewhere amongst my gait. One album that does well in this category is "Passover" by The Black Angels. Their complete devotion to the tom and tambourine propels me down the street at brisk and even pace.

But plantar pressing action isn't the only thing encouraged by The Black Angels. Their guitars usually have the fuzz-factor turned up way past the stubble realm to somewhere resembling the five day weekend beard territory. The resonance the vibrates of their strings allows for some sitar-like sounds when the right pitch bend is applied. Add in that a backing guitar is usually mimicing a well tuned motorcycle muffler and you begin to get the picture that there if there is a light at the end of the tunnel that is The Black Angels' style they have purposefully chosen to turn their backs to it.

The dark nature of their tone and hovering bass inspires scenes out of a dimly hued indie film where one man has decided to take on the entire world on his own. Many times there are songs that beg a visual scene be created for it, but the grungy, venomous attitude evoked from the instruments on "Passover" could supply more emotion to action than any well groomed dialogue and delivery ever could.

Subtlety is a difficult achievement at lower octaves yet The Black Angels find ways to grab the golden ring by putting a driving force behind the rhythm section that allows the lead guitar to wander along with an almost twangy spirit that will transport your ears below the Mason Dixon line regardless where you stand.

As you would imagine, the lyrics do not try to carve their own path. Melodies that had a heyday back when your parents thought they knew what good music was accompany messages that intertwine circumstances of despair and approaching chaos. But do not take the dire vocal tones as a harbinger of negativity. Rather see the whole picture and realize that theirs is a message of self confidence in the face of dismay.

In the end my main point is that the Black Angels latest album conjures a badass sound that puts a kick in your step. Listen to songs like "Black Grease," "The Sniper at the Gates of Heaven," and "The Prodigal Son" to get a good read of how indie music can still have a hell bent attitude. "Better off Alone" and "The First Vietnam War" are good time machines that pull the curtains on the bands influences and roots.

Since the majority of my alone time takes place while I am walking around the city (be it to the train, from the train, or in spite of the train) I tend to turn use those moments to observe others. Some people only learn from their own mistakes, but I make the extra effort to also learn from the mistakes others commit in front of me. Given the pedestrian nature of my cohabitants it would be a shame, wasteful even, to let a transient travesty go unchecked.

One common scenario where this judgmental behavior manifests itself is when a couple of lovebirds swoop past. I, like most people, (unfortunately, yet reassuringly) think about whether the relationship is doomed because their respective physical features don't plot adjacent points on the beauty spectrum. In my mind the need for mass adoption of the attractiveness compatibility rating system is the sole reason we are taught at a small age that a round peg goes in a round hole and not in the pentagram shaped one. The people who love you just want to make sure that you understand there is a properly shaped orifice for the square that you are.

From time to time a complete mismatch will cross my path and I'll drop some qualifier on how sparks ever flew. Common ones are "he makes a lot of money," "she has self confidence issues," and "he/she must have a fantastic/horrendous personality." But every once in a while, when I'm in complete dick mode, a couple will flood my scope and trigger the thought that they must have terrible sex, and not even know it.

This isn't something I reserve for people that most would find unattractive. There doesn't seem to be a distinct criteria that leads me to this conclusion. But one conclusion that can be made is that I seriously have a problem when it comes to objectivity.