Necks

I just completed a beginning graphic design course. I don’t offer that information as an excuse for why I haven’t posted so much as an explanation for what I’m about to write.

I’ve had to ask friends and family if they’d let me photograph their necks. This request has garnered a mixed response— from the wary “Ok.” to the flat-out “No.” The neck, after all, is a sensitive space, tucked away between chin and chest. It is a vulnerable spot that has earned at least two telling cliches over the years:

1. ...sticking your neck out...
2. ...going for the jugular...

I’m sure there are more.

Perhaps due to its vulnerability it is also a place of desire. Tender and recessed, it wraps around our power of speech, swaddling our vocal cords through a life-time of inspired and mundane words.

Considering that it allows food and water to travel to the stomach, messages to travel between brain and body, air to travel to the lungs, and words to travel into the world the neck can be viewed as a conduit. The sexiest conduit in existence, but a conduit none the less.

But I digress. . . these are the reasons why I chose to photograph necks but they do not explain the end product.

Our final project in the design class was to redesign the CD packaging for a favorite album. I’ve long since moved beyond attempting to clarify what my favorite album might be so I chose an album that I was exceedingly familiar with but hadn’t given much attention to over the past ten years— Tricky’s Maxinquaye.

Upon listening to it again I was struck by how raw it still seemed: Tricky’s vocals coercing Martina’s delivery with both of them indiscriminately singing atop one another. The album has a sexual bravado juxtaposed with a crippling vulnerability that makes it hard to describe to others. I had expected that I wouldn’t have to do much explaining to my classmates as they’d all be familiar with the album, but I was proven wrong. Apparently, Tricky was only an inspiration to me in the late nineties.

I proposed to create packaging that over-layed photographs of necks printed on vellum with lyrics from the songs. That way it would appear as if the words were stuck in the throat. Furthermore, there would be odd images of textures and locations placed alongside these combinations of necks and words. It was my hope that this might produce some approximation of both the alluring and disquieting qualities of the music. For the most part it succeeded. The vellum had a skin-like quality compared to the heavier paper stock used for the photos and lyrics. Some of the photos chosen were cropped in such a way that the compositions themselves were confrontational and confounding. When people picked up the packaging to examine it they rarely had smiles on their face which, while not always an indicator of success, somehow seemed appropriate.

There are still many details I’d like to tweak before I would feel completely satisfied, but that requires asking more people to offer up their neck, and those conversations have proven to be just disquieting enough to prevent me from exploring this project any further.

Five From CNET

I periodically binge on CNET. The lure of free, legal, music downloads preys upon my mind and I can lose hours to sifting through genres and recommendations. Usually this yields only a very few songs. Much of what I’m just discovering has been enjoyed by much cooler people for years now— Wolf Parade, The National, Devendra Banhart; these are acts that are relatively well known to those who didn’t spend most of their twenties trying to simply stay afloat in overwhelming jobs.

Realizing that I cannot profess to have a blog and not try to foist my musical tastes on others I submit to you just five artists that you can download and experience for yourself. My reasons for recommendation range from how emotional a track makes me to how perfectly derivative a band sounds. Regardless of the reasoning they’ve all been getting a lot of play around here.

1. Wikked Lil’ Girls by Esthero

This one might be a tad embarrassing to explain so I’ll skirt around the issue a bit. Apart from obvious props to Benny Goodman there’s an energy that rewinds life ten years. Whether you can live into the lyrics or not I think anyone can appreciate a little big band and high-sheen lip gloss.

2. End of Time by Beat Chemist

If you’re Fat Boy Slim then you beat a one-line sample into the ground and create a monotonous piece of radio triffle. But the Beat Chemist takes one short sample and fashions a sweet little rumination about seasons passing and the frailty of life. The beats are still phat, but they come from a heart.

3. Nothing Was Special by Lendi Vexer

Do you ever get tired of reading reviews for bands that reportedly sound like Portishead only to give them a listen and wonder how anyone could make such a comparison? No? Well, I’ve spent years lamenting the loss of Geoff and Beth so I fall for the old, “if you like Portishead” trick almost every time. This is the first group that, yes indeed, sounds like Portishead. The organ, the haunted female vocalist, the echoing chamber and languorous beats— it’s all here. Derivative? Sure. And that’s what makes it awesome.

4. To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra

Sparse and a touch maudlin. This is the only free track offered by this group and I haven’t been out to purchase the album yet but, if this song is any indication, Coldplay’s lawyers are keeping a close watch. Did I just admit to knowing what Coldplay sounds like?

All my credibility just flew out the window.

5. By Your Side by CocoRosie

My wife dug this one up and it’s a nice counterpoint to Wikked Lil’ Girls. The inane simplicity of this track juxtaposes beautifully with the exceedingly nebulous intent of the lyrics. Ironic? Resigned? Love struck? Maybe just struck. If you’re down with the growing tendency towards haunted lo-fi folk then you’ll probably enjoy all the other free tracks by this group as well.

If you’ve got comments about this selection, or recommendations for other tracks, feel free to drop your line below. The next list of five will feature songs by bands that reveal how I’m five years behind the times.