Let's Get Physical

At my age, I'm stuck smack-dab in the middle of the my-entire-library-is-on-my-hard-drive and vinyl-sounds-best movements, and while I love having portable music (I use Pandora at work, and take my 2nd generation iPod shuffle on vacations) I prefer vinyl. Yes, this preference has to do with sound and the aesthetic of a physical format, but it also has to do with my desire as a human being to interact physically with art.
 
I know it might seem a bit laughable-- records were mass-produced after all-- but there is still a physical component to lps: I can see the grooves where the physical waves of the music were imprinted, the visible version of the pressure music exerts on the body. I can see where songs change drastically, I can feel the silent spaces between songs with my fingers as I clean my records.

I feel the same way about books; borrowing my friend's Kindle to read a book was a disappointing experience. I missed the sensation of turning pages, of being able to see how many pages I'd read, how many I had left. It took me longer to read the book and felt less substantial. On the Kindle every font was the same, everything black and gray, a shadow world of the soul of books in their physical form. No human being will ever be able to touch a digital book, there is no history of human contact, there are no signs of past reading or cherishing.

Why is this so important? So what? It saves money and probably a few trees. (It doesn't save jobs in local shops, but that is another article. I suggest you go here for a great blog discussion on why buying music [and books for that matter] is important.)

Irises by Van Gogh

I will never forget standing in front of a Van Gogh painting of Irises at the Philadelphia Museum of Art and seeing the brushstrokes in the paint, imagining the artist's hand and eyes at work, his posture as he paused to see what was coming to life before him. The painting was not the two-dimensional thing I had always understood it to be-- it was lumpy, some spots raised up with multiple layers of paint, others showing the turn of the brush or a correction of a previous mark laid down.

Why should I settle for a "3D" experience of a sculpture or painting on Google-Whatever if I can ever have the chance to see it in person? Imagining the artist staring at a piece of marble (or any other material) and conjuring a being forth is much more awe-inspiring that the distance the computer screen puts between us.

When we allow the distance technology creates to be at the center of our lives, we are losing out. I still remember the excitement I felt as a pre-schooler when we had our weekly "mystery" tactile activity.  The teacher brought an object to class in a paper bag and every student stretched out their hand in order to feel it, interact with it, try to guess the object's identity. Everything else I remember from pre-school is pretty expressionistic, but boy, I remember that paper bag.


Teaching students who are BFFs with 2D experiences of life (friendships conducted through texts, all the most interesting sights on the 2" screens of their cell phones) I've found they are not immune to the mystery bag activity, or hands-on art-- in fact, these activities are the ones that bring that magical, elusive light of learning to their eyes. These activities are becoming as rare as White Tigers in young people's TV and electronic filled lives. Our culture is losing the knowledge of how to touch anything other than a keyboard or a screen (and students are losing their ability to manually write, spell, and who needs it anyway with Siri? Welcome illiteracy! Spellyng doznt hav 2 b standrdzd ineemor-- wut iz a printyng pres?).

The physical experience of buying/listening/playing music doesn't stand alone from how we interact with art in general. Technological experiences and conveniences shouldn't be at the expense of human interaction with an object. My romance with the Platonic, abstract ideal has ended. Put me in a room with the physical thing 'cause a hard drive full of music just won't cut it.

English Record Stores

Eng-Rock forever! Electro-rock...¡que viva! Vinyl, you will be all mine'l!

This is what my molecules were screaming as my plane's wheels left the tarmac and I began my journey to London.

Many people plan trips to cities around seeing famous sites, but Ryan and I plan our visits around records stores. In my carry-on, I had a carefully researched list Ryan had compiled. He'd spent hours on that thing, researching and compiling a list of British vinyl, and because Ryan was holding down the fort stateside I felt a burden to deliver the goods.

My London hosts are kind, and though I was determined to avoid obsessing over records stores on their time, they made some special trips for me to Soho and the Notting Hill 'hood.

I was hoping against hope that my love of English bands would finally work in my favor...surely there must be an abundance of (affordable) Mancunian rock and Banshees records in London? Surely! And you know, maybe some Pulp...and...and...ok, probably not affordable for the early 90s goods.

The original Rough Trade- in the Basement! Notting Hill 'hood.

The first shot at record shopping I got was on a visit to the Notting Hill neighborhood (newsflash: there is no way that Hugh Grant's character in Notting Hill  could afford to live in this neighborhood!!). We visited Portobello Market, had a bit of English style breakfast (eggs on toast! veg!) and meandered about. There's an awesome art display of vinyl records called the Portobello ReCollection there. It's quite a neat thing that no matter where you are going in London, you will accidentally discover something really interesting, unique, famous, or infamous. For example, I walked past houses of famous folk on many of our jaunts; places where Orwell, Hardy, and Ghandi had lived.

Wearing a weird facial expression: I pretend it's my punk face.

Like good music stores everywhere, Rough Trade opened at 10 AM (believe it or not, we were there early enough to have to wait around a bit). The BASEMENT was amazing. Right away I found Boomerang, by The Creatures. I spent about $12 getting a record that usually goes for upwards of $30. There was a massive Prince singles collection, a New Order "True Faith" remix lp I'd never seen but was immediately identifiable because of the leaf image.

The Original Single

12" Remix Single

Whilst there, Mark (one of my very patient hosts) took the opportunity to explain music categories I'd never seen before (Pub Rock and one I've forgotten the name of that was rock music for sport fans!), and to be shocked by all the bands I'd never heard about. It was neat to be shopping abroad and see categories for US New Wave, US Punk, US Rock, Surf Music, etc., a million categories for dance music, as well as the ever so un-PC category of Kraut Rock.

Music & Goods Exchange- Soho

Later in the week, on a Friday night as all the natural-born entertainers came out in Soho, Rae and Mark took me to a few more record shops. Music & Goods Exchange reminded me of CD/Game Exchange a bit, except things were reversed: this place had tons of cool records, and CDs were available in lesser quantity. These are neat stores because each branch specializes in something besides the music they sell. The branch in Soho specializes in comics (in the basement), which wasn't super interesting to me, but given the chance I would definitely visit other branches to check out their collections (one store has vintage clothes, another books, and one has films). My visit there was quite invigorating as I felt I was finally getting a true, English record fix with my purchases.

Upon approaching the counter to purchase the records at this store, I had a couple of realizations. This was the second store I had purchased records from, and I had noticed that they stored the vinyl behind the counter so shoppers would have to bring the sleeves up for what they wanted to buy. I thought that it might perhaps be a space issue-- the shops are pretty small-- or a thievery issue. But, like the first time I had purchased records, the clerk asked me to look at the quality of the vinyl before buying-- he didn't ask me if I wanted to, he expected me to do it. I adore this practice! How cool is it that record store folks in England are concerned about this on a customary basis? It would be considered odd NOT to look at the condition of vinyl before buying.

Sister Ray in Soho- you should visit!

The same thing happened when I purchased records at Sister Ray, just down the street. This was especially exciting because the shop had multiple copies of the Siouxsie & the Banshees singles I was purchasing, and I got to select the best copies. Even cooler, I
got to select from multiple gatefold, limited, clear vinyl editions of one of "The Killing Jar"; I ended up with pressing #13. I loved this store...they had so many records I wanted that I had to put things back. This is highly unusual for me!

Overall, I did pretty well for only purchasing records from a few stores, and I felt very satisfied. I did see quite a few awesome records I couldn't afford to buy, but I also got a fair price on Cure, Banshees, New Order, Prince, U2, James, and Kate Bush records (I got those last couple at an Oxfam in Shaftesbury, but that is a different story).

The weight of my carry-on as I lugged it around Heathrow, JFK, and PDX on my way home was extremely satisfying. The look on Ryan's face as he pulled out all his treats was even better.

London Recalling

My punk rock face, in Notting Hill at the Portobello ReCollection.

Traveling to England is something I've wanted to do for a long time. Along with majoring in English and possessing a robust appreciation of British film and TV, my adolescent crush on New Wave music spawned a tentacle-waving Kraken that locks onto tasty morsels of song at every opportunity...especially those palate-pleasing English tunes. In June, I finally got the chance to go to London (and see two very kind friends who took me all over the place!).

The music obsessed can spend a great deal of time lamenting the strange reality that no one quite understands the music they hold so dear, and I'm not one to enjoy the fact that many of the artists I like are either unknown or considered weird. This mega-group-U2 loving woman would be down with the world loving Yoko Ono. Unlikely to happen, but at least people know who Yoko is. What a pleasure then to share this scrap from my travel journal:

"So cool to be in a country where you can hear PJ [Harvey] on the radio, Is This Desire? blaring out of a record store in Brighton. ROCK ON ENGLAND! I am Anglo. Even at the Little Chef I heard 70s David Bowie, New Order on every commercial, The Cure for kicks...YEAH! Yeah! Yeah!"

I wrote that on the plane on the way back, slightly delirious, part of my enthusiasm stemming  from being able to claim a piece of my heritage. I've long said I was "white" or "Caucasian", but thanks to the awesome group of students I got to teach last year, the fabulous discussions we had about race/identity, and guest speaker Jim Garcia, I realized that those descriptions don't actually communicate anything about who I am. Finally going to a country whose art has meant so much to me, and whose genetics I contain, embracing that I am Anglo felt clarifying and true.

Of course, the hunger isn't satiated. I can't wait to go return to England!

Wedding Music

I am sure that somewhere back in time, most of my ancestors danced and sang at weddings; it turns out that my DNA has been aching for me to move my feet, clap my hands, and sing with other people.
 
My dear brother, Brendan, had the good fortune to fall in love with Wambui, a Kikuyu woman who has a laugh that bubbles up like spring water. My family met her mother, aunt, and youngest brother a year ago, before the two were engaged and we immediately liked them. We didn't really know what to expect when it came to our two cultures participating in a wedding ceremony, though. We knew that traditional approaches in the US and Kenya are very different, but there hadn't really been a chance to talk about these things since they live in Nairobi.

On the eve of the wedding, after the rehearsal dinner, we congregated at Wambui and Brendan's place to surprise the bride. Many Kenyan family members and friends had arrived that day, and their home was filled nearly to the brim. With serious bridesmaid power (yea Jackie and Daphne!) we were able to play a couple of games, including one where all the young women cover up in kangas, and the groom has to figure out who his bride is just by looking. The joke is that the first woman the groom picks is supposed to be the one he marries. To Brendan's embarrassment and everyone else' amusement, he picked me first; his face went a nice shade of beet. It took him four tries to figure out which one was Wambui. Baba Wambui is a funny guy, so he made Brendan explain why each woman he incorrectly picked should not be his bride, starting with me.

After that activity, we got in a circle and Beatrice (Wambui's cousin) led us in singing two different call-and-response style songs; she did a great job off-the-cuff! I was lucky to be standing next to Nyokabi, who has serious dancing skills, so I stared at her feet, clapped my hands, and tried to pick up the Kikuyu lyrics. In one of the songs, family members get called on to come dance in the middle of the circle of singers...I was surprised when I got called. Luckily, middle schoolers have taught me how to let go of inhibitions, and I got myself right in there to do my best.

There was so much love in the house: hugs, genuine joy in the meeting of relatives that hadn't seen each other in years, last meetings recounted with astonishment at how much time had passed, friends reunited across continents, and spilling over onto my family an open-hearted welcome of kinship. We weren't just plugging Brendan and Wambui into new families, we were stepping into an extended family for all of us! I felt as much acceptance, without question, as I have ever felt in my life from a group of people. There was no awkwardness, no sense of trying to fit in (even if my dance moves aren't all the way there yet). What a blessing! Surely a sign of God's presence in the midst of people who would normally be nothing more than strangers. I count myself beyond lucky to have so many new friends and family.

On the day of the wedding, I felt joy pulse through me as I was blessed to take part in singing Kikuyu wedding songs to the bride and groom. My mom recorded the video below. I hope you can feel the love, too.