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The 2012 Album Awards Show Pregame Festivities!

I think I listened to a lot of music this year. During the long, protracted, kick in the balls that was 2012, there was a soundtrack of passably good music with a couple of standouts playing in the background. This is where that music gets recognized.

I spent a lot of time anticipating making this, but once I got into the process, it was terrifying. What if I snubbed some albums, what if I overrated some? Will I lose friends over this? Will I get a severed horse's head on my pillow? The answer to all of those questions is probably yes.

So here's how this works. The top 12 are in their own PowerTier. (Since this is 2012 I suppose that could be #PowerTier, but it's not because hashtags are Ragtime and I'm a classically trained pianist in 1910's Atlanta.) Everything else is grouped into PowerTiers, which can range in size from one album to infinity albums. Outside of PowerTier I albums are not ranked with respect to other albums within their own PowerTier. Albums in the same PowerTier deserve roughly around the same level of recognition, in the eyes of the Ozone Shack.

Of course, there's the disclaimer that this is entirely my opinion. I am not ranking these albums on how they correspond to the Ideal Platonic Universe of Good Music. There is no such thing. The world is only what we make of it.

PowerTier VIII - The Benghazi Coverups
David Byrne & St. Vincent - Love this Giant
Good Old War - Come Back as Rain
State Radio - Rabbit Inn Rebellion
Chiddy Bang - Breakfast
Titus Andronicus - Local Business
The Vaccines - Come of Age
Bad Books - II

PowerTier VII - The Eastwood Debates

Tame Impala - Lonerism
Psychedelic trip-rock that might have been trying to sound a little too much like late-era Beatles, especially in Kevin Parker's vocals. I mean, even the color scheme of the cover is evocative of Abbey Road.
Mind Mischief by Tame Impala on Grooveshark

Gojira - L'enfant Sauvage
I guess the French can shred. This was the soundtrack while I did Christmas shopping at the Half Price Bookstore in Berkeley. I got some pretty angry gifts.
Born In Winter by GOJIRA on Grooveshark

The Cult - Choice of Weapon
Post-punk meets classic rock with the epic sensibilities of a prog outfit.
The Wolf by The Cult on Grooveshark

The Maccabees - Given to the Wild
This spacey, well crafted rock made one of my monthly bike rides to K Mart for overpriced cleaning supplies and RC Cola much more bearable. Also, they used Andy Goldsworthy art for the cover, which is bonus points in my book.
Child by The Maccabees on Grooveshark

The XX - Coexist
I heard about this one on NPR. NP-fucking-R! Where's my tote bag?
Angels by The xx on Grooveshark

Godspeed You! Black Emperror - Allelujah! Don't Bend! Ascend!
The band who already gave us too many exclamation marks gives us too more. This is good music to listen to while you are playing Civilization IV on Ambien. In my personal experience anyway. The Sumerian fighter planes kicked my ass though.
We Drift Like Worried Fire by Godspeed You! Black Emperor on Grooveshark

PowerTier VI - The Rookie Quarterbacks

Deftones - Koi No Yokan
One kind of sludge that even Captain Planet can get behind!
Poltergeist by Deftones on Grooveshark

The Tallest Man on Earth - There's no Leaving Now
The sophomore effort of Swedish singer-songwriter Kristian Matssen offers a richer and more diversified sonic texture. This was a pretty good year for Norse outfits, as we'll find out later.
1904 by The Tallest Man On Earth on Grooveshark

Circa Survive - Violent Waves
Where will this album fit into the Great Taxonomy of the World? I'm not sure. Like the Ozone Shack, it will probably end up in the miscellaneous pile.
Phantasmagoria by Circa Survive on Grooveshark

The Shins - Port of Morrow
I purposely underrated this. Maybe because I was waiting for it for so long, or maybe because I know that Pitchfork overrated it (although I have no intention of giving them more traffic by finding out). This once groundbreaking group is settling into their comfortable middle period.
No Way Down by The Shins on Grooveshark

Ian Anderson - Thick as a Brick 2
The follow up chronicling the last thirty years of one of rock n' roll's favorite conceptees, Gerald Bostock. Jethro Tull has aged relatively well. Maybe a little depressing, but so is the fate of rock n' roll.
Adrift and Dumfounded by Ian Anderson on Grooveshark

Anathema - Weather Systems
Symphonic prog metal with guitar textures that sort of remind me of Joey Eppard's style with the edge taken off. Good for implacable nostalgia and a vague sense of emotional dissatisfaction
Untouchable part 1 by Anathema on Grooveshark

Tier V - The Joseph Gordon-Levitts

Neon Trees - Picture Show
Well I'll be damned if this isn't my second guiltiest pleasure of the year. Also, their drummer is hot.
Moving in the Dark by Neon Trees on Grooveshark

Matisyahu - Spark Seeker
Christian Rock is a multibillion dollar industry and generates mostly bland garbage. Jewish reggae is confined to a handful of artists and has a consistently better output. What can I say, God's chosen people.
Fire of Freedom by Matisyahu on Grooveshark

The Big Pink - Future This
Ok, this looks like it's shaping up to be the Guilty Pleasure PowerTier. But I like music for the way it sounds, not what it sounds like. Yeah, this album is a little electronic hipstery. Actaully, I don't know if it does, that's just what somebody said once. I think his favorite band is Pennywise, so his judgment is questionable.
Hit the Ground (Superman) by The Big Pink on Grooveshark

Isis - Temporal
A fantastic mix of thrash and prog metal textures. This collection of unreleased demos from the band's career  highlight's what made them such a dynamic act.
Ghost Key (Alternate Demo Version) by Isis on Grooveshark

The Lumineers - The Lumineers
The latest toast of the neo-folk movement serves up forty two minutes of catchy melodies and heavy pickin'.
Big Parade by The Lumineers on Grooveshark

Rush - Clockwork Angels
Geddy Lee, Neil Pert, Eric Lifesen. One of the power trio of power trios (the other two being Cream and the Jimmy Hendrix Experience), Rush should have burned out a long time ago. But after their synthesizer era and being reduced to a gag in I Love You, Man, Rush is still up and kicking with Clockwork Angels.
The Anarchist by Rush on Grooveshark

Plants and Animals - The End of That
I can't decide if this is alternative rock or just rock. Or are they just the same thing now? Like Rush, they're also Canadian. This is good music for staring at storm drain runoff cutting through a sandbank on the beach and thinking about the disparity between human time and geological time.
The End Of That by Plants and Animals on Grooveshark

Minus the Bear - Infinity Overhead
This one is good for watching pelicans on their fall migration. They look like organic WWII bombers (pelicans, not Minus the Bear).
Lies and Eyes by Minus the Bear on Grooveshark

Power Tier IV - The Higgs Bosons

Passion Pit - Gossamer
A surprisingly sophisticated album for a band whose name is a euphemism for vagina. (I was going to use "Take a Walk" for the sample, but let's face it, you've already heard it.)
Hideaway by Passion Pit on Grooveshark

Grizzly Bear - Shields
Before I gave this a listen, I was thinking "pff, ok, Grizzly Bear, this'll be interesting." But by some divine miracle, obnoxious stubble didn't appear on my face, and an American Spirit didn't appear in my hand. Sometimes the thick textures in the slower songs still bother me, but I'm willing to look the other way.
Sleeping Ute by Grizzly Bear on Grooveshark

Chromatics - Kill for Love
It's not hard to get lost in the haunting beauty of this electric tapestry. Extra ballerness points for opening with a Neil Young cover.
These Streets Will Never Look the Same by Chromatics on Grooveshark

Hot Chip - In Our Heads
Britain's weirdest semi-mainstream band reloads with another fantastic release, possibly their best yet. Eight years ago, they were claiming to be a sighted Stevie Wonder, and now they claim the world is no longer round. Yep, not much has changed, except for maybe higher production values.
Motion Sickness by Hot Chip on Grooveshark

Nightmare River Band - Last Goodbye
Underground Punk/Bluegrass/Country band drops their horn section for what is, regrettably, a sophomore slump after their fantastically bizarre Call the Cops!! Am I disappointed? Maybe. But not too much. We're lucky to have them.

Special Honorable Mentions
Before we go on to PowerTier III, I want to take time to mention two albums

Album that I'm Mentioning to Make It Seem Like I Get It: Dirty Projectors - Swing Lo Magellan
But really, I don't.
Offspring Are Blank by Dirty Projectors on Grooveshark
You with me?

Check back soon for PoerTiers III, II, and the top 12 Albums of 2012!

Yelp Review of an Undisclosed Chinese Restaurant


I grew up down the street and my family would go here on a semi-weekly basis when I was growing up. Now it's always the first place I go when I'm home. It might just be the MSG or maybe it's all the countless cherished memories I have here with family and friends, but there is no eatery that can provide me with as strong a feeling of satisfaction.

Every time the decor seems to get classier by a few quanta, to the point where they now have piped-in soothing piano music, white tablecloths, and even some artwork on the walls. The place is usually pretty empty since most of their clientele does takeout, but eating in is a great experience. (Fun fact: there used to be a sign out front that advertised free valet parking, but since their parking lot consists of about ten parking spaces in two separate lots and they are at the intersection of two narrow streets, this was always a lie.) You can't really go wrong with any of the entrees, except the walnut shrimp look like are covered with a mixture of phlegm and whale semen. But don't let that dissuade you, the walnut shrimp are delicious once you get past the appearance.

What most people don't realize about this place is how incredibly well stocked the bar is. It's probably the most under-utilized stash of liquor this side of prohibition. However, be warned: although they have all the necessary ingredients to make sake bombs, it's a trap. When my friends and I asked for some, the bartender seemed confused. A Chinese man sitting at the bar tried to tell him what we wanted, and all of a sudden they were yelling at each other in impassioned Cantonese. The two waiters and the maitre d' got involved in the discussion, and then even the manager got involved, causing it to escalate into a six person hustle and a bustle. We had created a mini Chinese soap opera. To quell the situation, we just asked for three Saporros and three cups of sake. We thought this was the end of the saga, but as it turns out, their glasses are not conducive to sake-bombing. They taper about halfway down to the point where the sake cup gets stuck, blocking some of the beer at the bottom until you tilt your glass all the way back, at which point you have to brace yourself to keep  the dregs from spilling all over you.

When the bombs drop and there is nothing but fallout and burned cities and black soot blocks out the sun, I will fight my way through hordes of mutants in a beat up diesel pickup truck, on the off chance that this is the one place from the world I once knew that has survived.

Strangers with Wi-fi

My demographic was raised to be terrified of the internet. We were first exposed to it at the same time as our parents. It was just as new to them as it was to us. Back then our parents didn't see it as being useful for very much, except my dad was very excited about this whole "e-mail" thing. What they did realize was that it was a way for their kids to talk to strangers without ever leaving the house. Which meant, of course, that pedophiles from the Tron universe were going to scan us into the computer and cybermolest us.

You would hear vague rumors that almost coalesced into anecdotes about a kid who went missing because of someone they met in an AOL chat room, how this stranger with cybercandy figured out where they lived and where they went to school and one day the kid just up and got abducted. Of course, you would have to voluntarily divulge this information, but try telling that to a panicked parent. So they forwarded bad jokes to each other via their hotmail accounts and poured themselves stiff drinks. Or at least my parents did. And you know, I really don't blame them.

Then the Bush Era rolled around and it wasn't the pedophiles that were out to get us on the internet, it was the g-men. The FBI was reading every email you sent. The internet was a series of tubes, and each of them passed through a shadowy basement room in the J. Edgar Hoover building where dissidents were held without warrants and branded with cigarettes by scotch-sipping men in black. You were one email saying that all the guests at the party would be "blown away by your cake" from going to Guantanamo. These were true facts.

And now we're all in a panic about Mark Zuckerberg having rights to the information that we publicly broadcast using a medium he created. Unless you're Amish or my mom or some Yupik tribesman wandering the frozen tundra chewing on seal blubber, you've seen the statuses where people are making a disclaimer about their profile being their intellectual property. I actually don't know what the content of this chain status is. I haven't read it. Because I know that it's meaningless. You already agreed to everything they asked when you created your profile.

I don't even care if they use any of it. What's up there for facebook corporate to appropriate anyway. Pictures where I'm awkwardly tagged in the background? My futile attempts to be witty with statuses like "Fabric softener? I hardly know her!" The movies/bands/books I say I like in order to project some kind image of myself? Go ahead, take all of it.

In fact, it probably should be their intellectual property rights. The you on facebook isn't you, it's a version of you that was created by the constraints of the medium, and by the culture of sharing bits of pieces of your life that wouldn't exist without social media. If they have the patience to dig through all the garbage on my profile, then they deserve whatever turds they end up polishing.

Also, the first person to make this post their status gets a free Ozone Shack prototype coffee mug. Go!

Paralysis Epidemic Adventure Live Blog

So today is a monumental event. Somehow, I got tricked into playing Dungeons and Dragons. I will be live-blogging the entire process. This is apparently the third part to a campaign that has already been underway, so it behooves me to provide some backstory.

Backstory: A plague that causes paralysis has spread across the land. Initially, one of the hardest struck towns contacted a band of adventurers to find the source of this plague. They were accompanied by the town doctor, whose name was Hellarug. They ventured into the mountains, believing it was caused by an evil magician, but the magician was not found. Instead, they stumbled upon a group of perished travelers who had conceived a map of the mountains, which lead to cave. Within this cave, they were forced to fight a giant squid, and through a series of intricate waterways, the group was split up. Many were never found. The remaining adventurers found a small gathering of minotaurs, who had found that the source of the sickness was in the water, and were applying a remedy. The minotaurs led them to a crazed mad scientist named Barnby, who needed more of a special yellow flower in order to create more antidote. At this point, one of the Tiefling adventurers had been entirely struck down by the plague and could not move. The final two of the adventurers ventured into the forest and were attacked by bears. Once again, they were separated.

It took a long time, but several of the adventurers were finally reunited, after their failure, and added more to their group. They returned to the alchemist's house to conjure more antidote and began their journey back to the caves, where they believed the water source was running from. They were never seen again. dun dun dun...

3:14 I have been informed that Carmen Jello the Better will not be joining us on this quest.

3:51 Dungeonmaster: "Ok, here's how the modifiers work, it's really confusing." This is going to be a long evening. Still drafting characters...

3:56 Game manual: "Hafling males have no beards, but often have long, flowing sideburns."

4:29 Dungeonmaster: "Let it be known that the Dungeonmaster has decided that Tieflings are the black people of the Dungeons and Dragons universe."

4:36 Beers have been broken out. We are attractive people and are not in a basement. We are defying all stereotypes of Dungeons and Dragondom.

4:45 I have drafted my character.I AM HIMBRICK THE AMBIGUOUS OF DIRECTRIX ADVENTURE DYNAMICS INCORPORATED (OF WHICH I AM THE PRESIDENT, CEO, CFO, AND SOLE EMPLOYEE). I AM A TIEFLING (WHATEVER THE FUCK THAT IS) WHO SPEAKS THE COMMON LANGUAGE AND ELVEN. I WAS RAISED BY ELEPHANTS AFTER MY PARENTS WERE KILLED FOR BEING EVIL, AND LED THE ELEPHANTS TO VICTORY IN THEIR WAR AGAINST THE WOOLLY MAMMOTHS. NOW I ROAM THE WORLD SEARCHING FOR TRUTH AND PEOPLE WHO LOOK AS FUNNY AS I DO. I AM 6' 2", 210 POUNDS, 37 YEARS OLD, HAVE BLACK RAMS HORNS AND DARK BLUE HAIR. I AM A ROGUE, WHICH MEANS I HIDE IN THE SHADOWS AND USE STEALTH TO VANQUISH MY OPPONENTS. I LIKE LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH AND SPOONING VIGOROUSLY. CURRENTLY, I HAVE LEATHER ARMOR, DUAL WIELD HAND CROSSBOWS, AND CAN ALSO DUAL-WIELD DAGGERS AND USE SHURIKEN. YOU DON'T KNOW IF I'M GOOD OR EVIL. I CONSTANTLY WRESTLE WITH MY DUAL NATURE, SINCE MY ANCESTORS SOLD THEIR SOULS TO DEMONS IN EXCHANGE FOR POWER, BUT MY ELEPHANT ADOPTIVE PARENTS TAUGHT ME THE GENTLE WAYS OF NATURE.

5:18 Here is my party:
Aukam, the goliath monk. He worships Kord, the purity of battle. Is riding a horse that is half his size.
Driker the Striker! A halfling ranger, at 12 years old, is a prodigy in the arts of Ranging, whatever the hell that is.
Bonaparte, the dragon-born warlord. Likes martinis. Gets bitches all day long. Bitches love dem scales.
Andaris, half-elf half-paladin. Got over his daddy issues to become a battle-loving badass.
Diomedes, human wizard. Was a member of a town and became unhappy with his life after being faced with a large problem. At the time he was known as Hellarug the doctor. He noticed he had magical abilities, and devoted himself to the dark arts in order to gain personal fortune.

5:40 Finally, after creating our characters and figuring out what spells we know, it's time to flip this bitch!

5:41 Forex, an eldrin wizard, has just joined our party. He the half-brother of one of the former adventurers,  who is missing and presumed dead.

5:46 Our in-game Wills might be powerful, but our "IRL" wills are not. Time for a beer run.

6:20 Our team has been contacted by the chieften of the Minotaurs. I'm doing this for 75 gold pieces. I don't know if that's good or not in this economy, but I don't know what else there is for work in this universe.

6:23 We're debating the difference between presignation and cantrips. I'm so lost...

6:29 I tried to hit on a minotaur woman in an alehouse and she shut me down. I thought she would find my horns attractive. I guess not.

6:57 I've been hit with two arrows after stepping into a booby trap, one in the right shoulder and one through the left thigh. I lost 20 hit points. Fuck this game.

7:04 The Dungeonmaster will not let me retroactively change my stats to better reflect my backstory. I don't know if I can keep roll playing if this is the case. So confused...

7:09 Another fucking booby trap! Fuck this dungeon. Fuck this game!!!

7:10 Andaris set off another booby trap but dodged it. This is so not fair!

7:19 Dungeonmaster: Two figures enter from the other side of the dungeon. In a language you don't understand, they say "halt."
Me: Then how do we know they said halt?
DM: Because they inflected it the same way you would say halt.
Me: But what if it's a tonal language?
DM: Uhhhh... It's not a tonal language.

7:21 Bonaparte: Can we diplomacy the shit out of them?

7:25 We're discussing the finer aspects of the player/character duality. I never knew we would get so philosophical.

7:37 Two of our party are currently fighting monsters called "oozes." The minotaurs have informed us that they have an affinity towards water. Also I think I'm getting a little drunk at this point. Also, we are once again debating the difference between player knowledge and character knowledge.

8:34 We've been fighting the oozes for a long time. These fuckers be strong.

9:09 Driker the Striker! has just died. That's why you don't bring 12 year olds into battle.

9:22 The DM just suggested I use a saw booby trap to saw off the arrow that has lodged itself in my bicep. #suggestionsfromthedungeonmasteryoushouldn'ttake

9:30 Kip the Minotaur has been hit. He is bleeding... AND OOZING!!! Kip has turned into an ooze. This dungeon is worse than 'Nam!

9:46 I just dodged a boulder with my cat-like reflexes!

9:54 A wave of water just washed us out of this dungeon into the next section of the map. That was convenient...

10:05 People seem to be losing attention. I need to come up with inane things to say...

10:11 d4, d8, d10, d20, and now they're calling a regular die a d6. I'm in another world.

10:29 Andaris: I demand an explanation.
Barnby: Fair enough.
#bondvillain

10:33 "He thinks it will be awesome, but really, it will kill everybody."

10:34 Andaris: I'm sorry Barnby, you sn-ooze, you lo-oooooze!!!

10:59 My character has just apparently lost control of all his actions, because of the way I rolled a 20-sided die. Just like real life...

11:01 Wow, I just fucked my teammate up. If only I could have been that effective fighting the oozes.

10:09 Diomedes has been betrayed by our minotaur allies and is now dead. He would have died honorably, except he spent more time sexting than he did playing the actual fucking game. Now the turns will go faster, I suppose...

11:11 DM: Roll for will.
Me: Wait, who's will?
DM: No, willpower, dumbass.

11:23 I have switched my deity alliance from Ionas to Glob. omGlob...

11:26 We have stopped the plague. The minotaurs turned on us, but we killed them all, so the minotaur chieftan doesn't know about it. We get our 75 gold reward.

11:27 The minotaur chief gives us each an additional 25 gold for our fallen comrades. First DnD quest is a success. Now time to mourn our dead.

The Salt Woman, Part I


Thought I would post the first part of this story before I head out for this holiday of gluttony and tryptophan saturation. Part II will be readable in a week or so.

             Growing up, I remember the caravans would come through the town four times a year, twice in each direction. They came once in the middle of summer and once at the end, and they carried salt and nothing else. They would come in the pinelands out of the east with their bags empty and return loaded up with the stuff, stopping in the high country towns before returning to the pinelands. They say that without salt the body leaks out through the skin until it deflates and shrivels up. This is why, my father explained to me, we depended on the salt caravan.
                They got their salt from a woman who lived in the badlands, who extracted it all by herself from the earth, and on one occasion when I was fifteen, burned half the town to the ground in what can only be described as a supernatural occurrence.
                A trip to the salt flats took her three days down the course of the river, a journey she would make with her mule as many times as she could during the summer when the salt flats were dry, and in the fall when there were still patches of salt that weren’t underwater. She knew where to find the purest veins; since she had only one mule to load it was only worth her time to bring back the stuff that was free of impurities. As she dug her hands would crack, and her face would crack, weathered by the salt blowing in her face. And after a day of digging she would fall asleep on the salty ground lying on her back, spread eagle and looking at the stars, sometimes recalling that she had once heard that there are as many stars in the sky as there are grains of salt, her mule tied to stake she had planted in the ground. She stayed until she had filled her mule’s packs, as well as two woven wicker baskets she would load up with as much as her frame could carry, and then make her way back.
                Upon returning to her dugout she would leave the salt in huge piles in an enclosure she had made, the roof sealed with pine tar from the mountains and the floor covered with lizard hides to keep the salt from being ruined by rainfall. And then she would bathe in the river, its icy force breaking over her naked wiry frame, although it was the river who thought it could break her. She would pinch clumps of hair between her thumb and forefinger, then pull outward away from her scalp, squeezing the salt out from between her follicles until every last bit of it was gone, then sit naked on a rock watching the river flow until she had shivered herself warm.
                She lived on the provisions the caravaners would trade for the salt, along with whatever she got from the traps she kept in the foothills and the berries and wild roots she gathered. The river, it seemed, was too alkaline for any fish. That was fine, the salt it bore was what fed her, ultimately.
                They say she would grind the salt herself by crushing the rocks in her hands, that she could simply hold it up, squeeze, and the whole thing would turn into fine grains to be packet into the caravaners’ bags. When they showed up she could feel them coming, feel the vibrations of the ground as their pack animals approached, and would have the bags of salt lying in the open, ready to be loaded. They regarded her with respect and uneasiness, always paying her up front in tools, sacks of rice and potatoes, sometimes a can of anchovies all the way from the sea. As they loaded up the salt she would watch them idly, picking at her teeth with a shard of bone. They would wave to her as they departed but she never waved back. She only stared at them until their thin line of mules vanished over the pass, when she would go inside and carry on whatever it was she did with her life. Probably cracking her own neck, repeatedly, with a grimace of mixed pleasure and pain.
                Except on this occasion she approached the leader of the caravan and told him she was coming with them.
                “I’ll take my own mule,” she had said to him, “I’ll even have him carry salt, he does it already anyways.” She stood almost a head shorter than him, and for the first time he noticed there was nothing in her frame that suggested such a strength as she was reputed to have. “I think it’s been five years since I been in town,” she continued, not to justify herself, just to explain, “so I’m going with you.”
                The leader of the caravan had no reason to object, although he had heard stories about her. He heard that before she came out to work the salt flats she would wear a necklace made from molars she had knocked out in bar fights, that making eye contact with her for too long would give her power to paralyze you, that she turned into a dog at night and could summon the dead spirits of her people, whoever they were, to do her bidding. That she kept a jar with a human heart underneath her hammock. All apocryphal at best, but all who knew about the Salt Woman also knew some sort of story about her. None agreed. Some said it was a necklace of shrunken skulls, that it was an ibex that she turned into, that she in fact was possessed by dead spirits against her will. But they all agreed that there was a jar. In some stories she slept clutching it.
                “You can come with us,” he said, “but you’ll have to camp separate. Some of the men wouldn’t find it” he paused “proper.”
                “They’ve heard the stories, haven’t they?” she said.
                His eyes momentarily widened and he said nothing, but then a smile crossed her face.
                “I’ve heard a lot of them too, and I can assure you there’s not much to them.”
                “Not much?”
                “Well there has to be something, else I wouldn’t be out here, right?” She picked at something between two molars with her shard of bone. “We’ve done good business for years. You trust me, don’t you?”
                “Of course,” he said. “Load up your mule and let’s get moving.”
                They stood for a moment regarding each other, his beard encrusted with salt and her hair bleached by it, a thin layer that she could never get out, even in the river. She cracked a smile and he could have sworn her cheeks were going to split as she moved them.
                “I think I’ll enjoy this trip,” she said, “I think I’ll take a lot of enjoyment in it.”

To be continued...

Pilgrimage With the Technicolor Gypsy

There's a tree downtown from which, legend has it, the first humans were born. They were squeezed out, from a crevasse between two massive exposed roots, head first like most babies, but could crawl upon touching the earth. The tree nourished them and sheltered them; extending its branches downward with fruits rich in electrolytes and amino acids, and blocking the elements with thick foliage and its own subtle infrared energies. These people had no one to observe, no one to speak to them, so they created their own customs as the need arose, and called each thing what they felt it should be called. After growing to where they could walk tall under their own strength they ventured out from under the branches and called many things what they were. After all, they were those things. No one had ever said otherwise.

This morning I made a pilgrimage to the tree with a Technicolor Gypsy. She pulled over in her pickup truck as I was biking and through hand signals and sketches in the dirt we determined we were going to the same place. Somewhere off in the distance I could hear airplanes taking off. I threw my proverbial horse in the back of her truck and hopped in the passenger seat. She had neon turquoise hair and wore a bright pink bandanna. We each spoke of our homelands in our respective tongues. I told her of the forests with bark the color of fire hidden in valleys flowing with rivers of fog and the radical diviners who tore apart matter itself in their mountain hideout. Although I couldn't understand her language exactly I gathered she was from a place where a great desert met an even greater ocean.

Of these first people, some accounts say there were twelve, some say there were seven, some say it was a prime number between fifty and one hundred. There certainly were more than two. They set out, in a group, for the end of the universe, which they could see from the highest branches of the Mother Tree. But as they walked towards the horizon, naming things as they went, it receded into the distance with increasing speed, until they could no longer be sure it had an end. They wandered in this fashion until one of the women became pregnant and they decided that if more people were to be made, it was best to be stationary like the tree that birthed them.

Today there is no mention of what makes this tree special. It's the largest in the park, by far, but there is not even so much as a plaque to commemorate what happened here. Kids hide behind it to smoke pot and drink cheap beer. The Technicolor Gypsy and I sat cross-legged on the grass, staring at it, passing back and forth a thermos of tea. Tea that was black like delta soil.

This first child to be born did not grow up to name things. Some things he could not name, because his parents' generation had already called the things what they were. But there were new things, which no one had said were anything, left for the child to name, but he did not. They journeyed back to the Mother Tree to ask why. But they received no answer. That was, until they decided to climb the tree once again. After waiting for several days she provided them with fruit and soft canopies to rest on. By the time they reached the top they could see that the world still had an end. So they kept moving to push the universe outwards in all directions, so their children would come to know the joy in giving names.

Fog drifted in from the ocean and hit the mountains, coalescing into thick clouds which broke apart on the southern slopes. The Technicolor Gypsy said it was time for her to go. I grabbed my bike out of her truck and she drove off to chase the currents. I ate tacos from a taco truck with my ass leaning against my bike frame, standing under a street sign. I smiled at motorists who didn't smile back. The man running the taco truck gave me an extra cup of salsa. I tucked it into the side pouch of my backpack and started the ride back home, along dusty roads with semis spewing dust and diesel fumes. It's a long way to the edge of the universe but I may never need to go that far. Home is far enough from the Mother Tree.

Exclusive Interview with Cub'b, New Album Setting/Context


Producer Chris Cubbison, or as he is known by his stage name, Cub'b, has just released his debut LP, Setting/Context. You can purchase it for as much or as little as you want, or just give it a listen, at his Bandcamp page.

The Man Himself

I would try to sell you the album, but I think the music sells itself. Plus, Cub'b himself agreed to sit down for an interview and can do a way better job of explaining the album than I can.

Ozone Shack: Talk about the platform you chose to release this album. The way you released it is something that’s becoming more of the norm these days, where you put it up on a website and the customer chooses how much they’re going to pay for it, or if they pay anything at all.

Chris Cubbison: First ,as a listener,  I love that it’s going that way. I love the internet with music because taste and genres can become incredibly specific, you can find any sort of genre online, and depending on how much effort you put in, you can immerse yourself in an online culture where you can find multiple like-minded artists. Just last night I was searching through multiple websites – online labels- just pressing download button after download button. Just as a listener, I really appreciate that. It also kind of changes things for the artist, because your tastes and genres can become so specific, and so dense I guess, there’s kind of an oversaturation on the internet, and it can be hard to find artists, and not only that, but it can be difficult for an artists to get noticed or get some kind of following. It kind of changes the game. It makes it a different playing field.

OS: You mentioned downloading music. I feel like a trend that’s happening a lot, with Grooveshark, Spotify, YouTube, where people don’t actually need to have a copy of the recording, they can just access it through the cloud. But it seems as though you like actually having the music. I’m one of those people myself. What are your thoughts on having the music on your hard drive and getting it from the cloud?

CC: I kind of see with things like Spotify it’s blurring the line. I don’t know if I see much of a difference between streaming something on Soundcloud and having it on your hard drive. It kind of blurs the distinction between the two. Recently, I’m appreciating the fact that artists are putting their music online. And with Spotify and Soundcloud, it’s nice that it’s up there. I think it’s also interesting to think about the social connection, just because Spotify kind of take music and make it social

OS: And not only that, but there’s the added element where people can see what you’re listening too.

CC: They can see your taste, and that’s interesting too. People delve into things for different reasons too, maybe to be seen as liking this, this and that, but I don’t know, I think at the end of the day it has to come down to your own personal interest and whatever you want to get out of it.

OS: Well as for the album itself: Talk a little bit about what went into making it.

CC: Basically, I started working on all the songs at the end of last school year, during finals week. I was just starting to do some new tracks, wasn’t really thinking about where they were going. It feels like I get my best creative moments during the worst times, like during midterms or finals I get something and I’m like “dammit I really want to work on this.”

Everything on it was basically me, I think there were two tracks on there that feature a couple friends of mine, but it’s interesting the way that I did it. A lot of my friends are kind of describing it as collage music, and I think that kind of makes a lot of sense when I take a step back, because I’m working with a lot of samples, but not exclusively with samples, it’s kind of balance between pulling from other sources and putting in my own kind of stuff as well.

The equipment I use: An SP 404, Roland drum sampler. That piece of machinery is extremely conducive to sampling, because you can just plug in anything into it. On the album itself I pull from different sources for sampling; I sample vinyl a lot. That was a lot of fun. There were times when I was home in San Diego and I might be bored so I would go to a record store where I would buy ten used records for ten dollars or something. I would try to choose things that were random, where I look at it and go “what the fuck is this?” or this looks like it could be interesting.

OS: So it’s almost like a found art element?

CC: Definitely. It’s interesting because I think that the idea of found art or even collage isn’t really limited to one medium. But with music, the idea of sampling has kind of changed the way I listen to music at the same time too. I feel as though, as a listener, there have been times when I’ve been like “I don’t really listen to this genre” and then slowly I become more familiar with it and like it. I think the idea with sampling is that it broadens your perspective and your taste, because I feel like I’m not really listening to things with the mindset of “I like this” or “I dislike this,” but “what parts can I appreciate from this?” I like to think that there’ a positive you can taek away with everything you sample or everything you listen to, and it’s also about warping that or changing that. Basically this summer it was a way to stay entertained. I basically see the 404 as a big toy, I feel like a kid when I’m playing with it.

So yeah, I’m sampling with the 404, and then I also add in other instruments, like keyborard, bass, and guitar. The sampling itself is a balance from vinyl, other sources like youtube clips – a lot of time for the samples I’ll take clips from youtbue and warp them or change them in some way – and then there’s also an element that I really like of live sampling, or field recordings. There are a cpule tracks on there where I was out and about and I had just a microphone, I would hear something and record it and try to integrate it into a song. There were a copule on the album that included field recordings. On the track Aquarium I actually got a lot of sounds from the Birch Aquarium in San Diego. There’s this kind of water art installation outside and I just kind of recorded stuff on my iPhone and transferred it all to the 404. Also with the track Lunar Beach, for the beach noises, I was actually at Campus point. I was just sitting there with my microphone. I felt really silly when people would walk by.

OS: What about the spoken samples?

CC: A lot of those came from YouTube, movies or speeches, or just certain authors that I like who had readings online. I balanced that with my own vocals too. There were certain songs where I felt like it was appropriate for me to sing instead of pulling something from somewhere else. And with vocal samples, I feel like I have a lot of fun with that, because I feel as though – not just with vocal samples but with samples generally – it’s kind of a way to stack meanings and stack messages within your songs and kind of embed different meanings within them. I think that’s something I think about a lot. It can really shape a message when you’re trying to get that through in your music.

OS: Do you get to the point now where you’re listening to music or just in the world and start hearing everything as a potential sample?

CC: I feel as though I’m starting to look at the world that way, yeah. I even think that listening to music, I’m starting to break it down to individual noises that I’m hearing, not just a whole collective song. I might listen to a song and be like “oh, I really like the snare,” or “that hook is really good.” I’m starting to break it down and dissect different aspects of music – not just technically but in terms of meaning and in terms of voice.

OS: Let’s talk a little bit about how you perform this stuff live. When you do this stuff live you have your samples and then you’re playing some kind of instrument over that. I’ve seen you do it while playing bass and also with bongos. Talk about what that process is and how it’s different from creating material for the album.

CC: The live stuff is definitely different. I’ve only performed [the material off this album] once or twice. I think that can be kind of difficult as an individual just because I feel like I have to compromise certain parts of songs, just ecase I can’t physically do them all at once. It really depends on the way it was recorded when I’m trying to figure out how to play it live. A lot of times I’ll just have certain parts of songs or certain aspects of the songs that will be playing and then I’ll play a specific part up against that with backing tracks. That can be difficult, but it forces me to prioritize what I want to do. Ideally I would be able to make every single noise live, but I’m still in the process of learning how to do it.

OS: And then you’re also using real instruments.

CC: Yes.

OS: We’re sort of entering an epoch where real instruments aren’t really perceived as being necessary anymore. How do you feel about that shift?

CC: I’ve thought about this a lot. I try to come to a balance in my head. I think that a lot of people are turned off by the fact that everything is going digital, and that certain genres are going more towards computer-based, and I think there’s something to be said for that. I think that there’s something that can be appreciated for physicality of music, even with recorded music vs. digital. But also at the same time with live music, I feel like live instruments add a certain element of finesse or technical ability. I’m saying this very humbly. I’m definitely not the most talented when it comes to that. I think that at the end of the day it’s not what you use, it’s how you use it. As long as you’re pursuing something that’s on part with whatever you want to do, that’s the goal. I think that people today kind of get caught up with how things are made; they add a lot of significance to programs or instruments instead of the person using them. The way that I approach music is not really computer based. I’m recording onto a computer and I’m recording into Ableton, but all the beats I’m making and all the noises I’m making either stem from samples on the 404 or from instruments. It’s not like I’m making noises on the computer and using them as a crutch.

OS: It sounds like what you’re doing is a healthy blend of using the electronic medium but also creating the music yourself. I guess I would say that’s something I have a lot more respect for than a DJ who just splices and kind of creates a Frankensong. Now I’d like to ask what your diet of music, so to speak, was like growing up.

CC: Yeah, my taste in music has changed a lot and I think that happens with everybody who kind of digests music. I try to listen to a lot of different types of music. I’m not trying to listen to something just so I can say “oh, I’ve listened to this,” it’s really kind of a self-motivated thing.

OS: You’re trying to integrate it into your musical being; you’re trying to grow.

CC: Yeah. I think that a lot of times, with music, when people say “I don’t like this genre,” you’re kind of building a wall between what it is you like and what you don’t like. When you say “I don’t like rap” or “I don’t’ like R&B” you’re building a wall between yourself and what you can enjoy from that genre. I really try to give everything a fair chance. To more specifically answer your question, lately my music tastes have greatly diversified. I think that has a lot to do with my friends.  With my friends from back home, listening to music is a way to stay connected. I think at first, before I made music, it was a way of keeping up with my friends, you know, I would listen to something and we would talk about it the next chance we got to catch up. As I started making music, that’s also become a way of staying connected, you know, sending each other tracks and noticing musical progression without actually seeing each other.

I don’t know, I listened to a lot of 70’s punk in middle school, and I appreciate the way that was made, you know, it’s music from below, not music from some kind of established realm. High school when I met a lot of my friends I started diversifying. In the last couple years I’m really starting to enjoy beat music and experimental music. The more time you spend listening to any genre the more you understand it.

OS: Anything you’re particularly digging right now?

CC: There’s a lot I’m digging. I’ve been listening to a lot of my friends’ music, from different areas around the United States. I’m getting into Beat Music and experimental ambient and kind of weird house music, and techno. In the last week, I’ve listened to Andy Stott, he’s a British producer, I’ve been listening to a lot of Soundcloud artists. There’s this one community called the Astral Basement, they make a lot of experimental beats that I feel are up my alley in terms of listening and producing at the same time. I try to follow a lot of young guys on the internet that are doing a similar thing to me, maybe in a better and more depth extent. There’s this producer in Ohio, he’s like 19 years old, his name is Contact Lens, he’s released a lot of stuff. A couple San Diego artists, there’s this 15 year old kid called Television Sky, and he’s really good, he’s released like 12 albums.

OS: And that wouldn’t even be possible ten years ago.

CC: It really wouldn’t. And that’s just a sign of the times. People can make music on their own; they don’t need to worry about getting the record contract to be noticed first. It’s more of a self-motivated process today, or at least it can be.

OS: Any artists or bands out there right now that are doing something right? We’ve talked a lot about the role of the artist in our conversations, and I’m wondering if there are any musicians out there who you think are really fulfilling that “artist’s role.”

CC: So many. I think the role of the artist today is to make something that nobody else can make, and to be really unique with your sound and be sure that when somebody is listening to that, they’re listening to you. There are so many people doing that today and that’s the thing about the internet. If I may do a shameless plug, my friend Austin Cesear up in the Bay, he’s doing a lot of really interesting stuff. Another friend who’s in New York, Lotide, is going to be having a lot of really unique stuff coming out soon.

I don’t know, I think that a lot of people when they’re making music get caught up in the accessibility of it. They might make something to pleasure an audience or to fit within a genre. The way that it’s going today, I don’t’ think that the artist should approach something and be like “I’m going to make this kind of music” or “I am going to be this kind of musician.” I think they should be making the music and letting it speak for itself.

OS: Yeah, you know, the one area where I’m more of a Platonist than an Aristotelian is in regards to music, because in Platonic philosophy, the things below are representative of some pure thing that’s up above. I should listen to how the music sounds instead of what it sounds like, you know? That’s how I should evaluate it.

CC: Yeah, that also comes down to how it’s enjoyed. If someone is going to a concert and they have a premeditated notion of what it should be, I think that’s also setting yourself up for disappointment. People should be going into music with no expectations of what it should sound like, that way it’s more fulfilling.


Once again, Cub'b's debut LP, Setting/Context, is available for download from the following Bandcamp page: http://hlf-pin-mzk.bandcamp.com/album/hfpn010-setting-context

Send him some love, Ozone Nation.

The Laptop Urine Bandit


 The following is inspired by a true story:

           She had been on hold with tech support for an accumulated total of at least two hours, tossed between people in various departments, all of whom had thick yet impossible to place accents. Each one she told that yes, there were eighteen of them, and that yes, they had been urinated on, by a child, and that of course they had got wet, that’s what happens when something gets peed on. Each one had diplomatically responded, without a hint of shock or amusement in his voice, that he would put her on with his supervisor. When she was eventually put on with the head honcho of Apple tech support for the North American market, he simply cited the official warranty statement and told her good day. “Thank you,” she said, bitterly, as she hung up, got up from her desk, and walked into Principal Dawkins’ office.
            “Got any good news for me Debbie?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, throwing his arms up in the same shape referees do when the field goal is good. Dale Dawkins wore the same salmon-colored shirt with the same barely visible ketchup stain right below the breast pocket every day, and her eyes instantly gravitated to the slightly redder shade of salmon it made. She forced her gaze back to his pudgy red face.
            “Unfortunately not.”
            “Damn. What did they say?”
            “Well,” she said, “they transferred my call all the way up to the chief supervisor, and he said that it’s Apple policy not to restore any devices that have been urinated on, human or animal, because of the potential biological hazard.”
            “Isn't urine supposed to be sterile?” he barked.
            “I don’t know,” she said, “you’re the one running a school. I just work here.”
            “Well now we lost thirty-six kay in assets,” he said, leaning onto his desk. He thought about how he had to kiss the superintendent’s ass for months to get the funding. What was he thinking? Laptops, at an elementary school? What the hell do kids this age need computers for? Pissing on them, apparently.
            “I always knew that Jorgenson boy was trouble,” he said finally.
            “The juvenile justice department wants you to give a statement,” said Debbie, “to see if there was any previous behavior that indicated such an event would take place.” His case had been handed over to the county juvenile prosecutor.
            Dawkins laughed. “Previous behavior? There’s nothing that indicates a kid is going to up and pee on a cart of eighteen laptops. You know what you should tell them? Tell him the sign was that he was a little dumb shit kid, like all the rest of them!”
            She walked out of the office, scribbling “youthful indiscretion” on a pink sticky note.