This is an unconventional posting for me, but I feel that it deserves its place here. I was thinking today about music in relation to memory. How I got to this train of thought is a little convoluted, but then my thoughts often do tend to bounce around at random.
I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine about music in film, and I got to thinking about how music plays an extremely important role in setting the tone for particular scenes in a film. Essentially, my music-centric mind turned what was at first a discussion of film, into a theory on music. At a certain point, I got to thinking about the types of music that are appropriate for certain moments in film, and focused on one moment in particular- the moment when someone realizes the death of a loved one.
In this moment, music acts as a soundtrack for the realization of death. It is the backdrop, the mood setter for a scene, in life as well as in film, when a person comes face to face with a reality that is shared by all but strongly rejected and ignored in preparation of the mind by most. I would argue that music, or more generally sound, is one of the strongest triggers for memory. Upon hearing a given song or a certain sound, we are emotionally and mentally transported to a different place- often a specific location in our memories that we attach to the sound.
For instance, when I hear the album Bedtime Stories by Madonna, I immediately imagine myself jumping on a trampoline in my family’s den when I was in second grade: I remember that the trampoline was my mom’s- an exercise fad at the time. I remember singing lyrics, out of breath from jumping, that were well beyond the mental grasp of a 7 year old. I remember the smell of the carpet. I remember the dim lighting. It works the other way around, too. When I think of driving down 880 for my sister’s graduation from UCLA, I immediately think of Imogen Heap’s I Megaphone since that was what I listened to the whole way down- an indication of my often forced and belligerent teenage melancholy.
Here’s where it gets tricky with film, and with depicting a scene in which someone is informed of the death of someone they truly care for. I tried to think about the sounds I remember from the moment when I heard that my brother had died. I can think of nothing. I can’t even see faces in my mind, nor can I recall exactly where we were or anything that I would usually remember about any number of pivotal moments in my life. The last thing I remember clearly from that moment was my mom picking up her cell phone, then slumping over in the passenger seat in front of me and crying.
After that there was no sound, which is striking for many reasons. First, and perhaps most importantly, my mother was crying- wailing even. Also, we were on a freeway- there were cars rushing all around us and I’m sure my dad had to screech on his brakes to get to the nearest exit…although I can’t recall. We parked at a Chevron, where I can assume, but can’t remember, there were constant waves of people pulling in and out of the station over the course of however long we were there- which I also cannot remember. We sat on a concrete bench next to the station, and my dad explained to me and to my younger brother, what had happened. I don’t remember what he said. I don’t remember what I said, or if I said anything. I can’t hear anything attached to this moment- which for me is supremely unnerving. What characterizes this memory for me is the absence of sound, although there was most certainly an abundance of sound at the time of the actual event. The fact that there was all of a sudden no sound at all, is what is so unnatural about the realization of death.
This is why I was stumped when trying to think of music for this moment in a film- because if anything, my gut feeling is that there would be no music at all. No booming crescendo, no grating chords, no distorted guitar, no shrill violin, no sound. Because nothing exists in that moment- there is no sound, no place, no time, nobody, not even you, because you are experiencing a true affirmation of the finite. It is one of the rare moments experienced by human kind that becomes the anti-moment; a moment of existence in which existence ceases to be.
-Just a thought, that hopefully provokes some thought in return...
I've been thinking a lot recently about what music genre is ready to make its comeback, and I've settled on doo-wop. It makes sense, and to be honest, I just really want to see it happen. It's so old school cool that it would be a shame if it didn't make its way onto albums again soon.
Looking for a gritty, indie, garage-rock band? That's also an all girl group? 
Today, the Imagine Peace Tower will light up Reykjavik to celebrate Yoko Ono’s 77th birthday. The tower, built in 2007 as a memorial to John Lennon, is a beautiful and loving tribute to both John and to the ideals he shared with Yoko.
Happy Birthday, crazy lady!
Check it out here: imaginepeace.com
MGMT, why do you tease us so?
My excitement= not contained 
I consider myself to be fairly internet-savvy, but I guess I missed the memo on this little site. Grok Music is a website akin to Pandora; it helps you discover new music based on your current favorites. However, Grok Music differs in that its function is primarily visual, presenting visitors to the site with a "music map" - kind of like a musical family tree. You just type in the name of a band you like, or maybe that you're curious about, and the site pops out a map of new artists that you might also like. Grok also provides short descriptions about each new musician, links to listen to tracks from a featured album, and of course, links to purchase the music from iTunes or Amazon.
Above is my sample music map for Björk, it's fairly bitchin...and surprisingly accurate. Not bad Grok. Not bad.
My favorite thing to do pretty much, um, all the time is looke for music news gems, so I'm going to post my findings here! 
It’s exciting to get to play home-town tourist every once in a while, especially when you live in L.A. Luckily for me, a friend of mine from France is hiding in California for a few months while she shirks the responsibilities of post-college job hunting, and I get to show her how amazing California is! On one of my recent trips to visit friends at UCLA, I brought my Frenchie with, and played tour guide like it was my job. She toured campus, went to a house party, dropped in on a class, drank cheap beer out of red cups, learned beer pong, ate at In-N-Out, saw a pseudo-celebrity (Kim Kardashian), bought some flip flops, frequented college dive bars, ventured through Venice Beach, and last but certainly not least, went to a show at the Roxy on Sunset.
The Roxy is a place I’ve always wanted to go, but never got the opportunity to when I was at UCLA. It’s a well known, Sunset strip venue; tiny- but a great little spot to intimately view your favorite bands or up-and-comers. It’s fun 'n' gritty: dark, no frills, sticky floor, sticky bathroom, but that’s kind of the best part: The Roxy doesn’t mess around, it serves its purpose as a music venue and that's about it. 
was in C3PO mode the entire act. She even stayed robotic as she unplugged her synth and walked off stage: no smiles, no waves to the crowd or anything, just gone. It was like the Polysics had been on a mission from planet punk to rock our world from 11pm-1am and when they were done, they were gone… 
The loss of an ipod; the addition of a new favorite band. After much contemplation over posting missing signs for my poor lost ipod, the odds aren’t looking good, and sadly I am now in mourning my lovely, silver, 8-gigabyte pal. Thankfully, my pain was eased by the new album by Yeasayer, Odd Blood. Heralded (perhaps prematurely) as the album of 2010 by my roommate (with impeccable taste in music), I had to hear it.
Track One on My Life Soundtrack: The Beatles: “Hey Jude”
I’ve been meaning to write this for so long now, that it feels a little odd finally putting it into words. The single most profound memory that I own, is one which I’m not even sure exists, or ever existed, outside my own head. Regardless, it remains possibly the single-most influential moment of my childhood I (might) remember. When I was 2 ½ years old, my dad videotaped me singing along to The Beatles’ “Hey Jude”. My cover version went something like “Hey dude, na na na na...”, but still I think that’s pretty good for a toddler.
The odd thing about the song, is that it has come to truly affect my adult life. "Hey Jude" is the beginning and the end for me when it comes to music, and quite probably the source of my attachment to any and everything musical. Whenever it comes onto a playlist or random shuffle through my music library, it stays, and sometimes repeats. It lingers with me, and haunts me, makes me cry, and then want more.
It’s because of the lyrics- which strangely were so unimportant to me during my first debauched performance of the song. They are beautiful, painful, true, comforting, and utterly heart wrenching. They demand the listener to “take a sad song, and make it better”, which in fact the song itself seems to do- turning a melancholy lullaby into a bittersweet anthem for hope and happiness. "Hey Jude" is an advisory to appreciate what we have, to try and take something from the disappointments, rejections and complete failures that life gives us and to learn from them.
I understand that this could potentially sound vague or superficial, but I feel the need to impress upon each and every one of my few readers that we need this message, no matter how it has seemingly been beat to death in our “carpe diem” generation; a generation brought up in a time of monotony, complacency, and mediocrity.
I can be a skeptic, but I also know the worth of positivity and blind optimism. That is why this song rings true to me. I’m not religious, but I do have faith in the undeniable feeling of belonging that occurs every once and a while, that makes us feel like we’re a part of something larger then ourselves. I feel like this song does that; it makes you feel like you can relate to the rest of the world, in maybe nothing more than your loneliness and sadness. That should be something to relish in. That should be something to enjoy- that you connect to the human culture, and that if nothing else, at least you can feel.
The song “Hey Jude” exemplifies the struggle to connect, and furthermore to reconnect to something that we feel has betrayed us. It is a response to something that we feel is true that we are shown is not. It is a portrayal of disillusionment, of facing reality, and it is something we need to know is a universal feeling. We all feel betrayed: when we learn Santa is not real, when we learn our parents are fallible, when we learn our teachers know nothing, when we learn our leaders are flawed. It is a window into the humanity that we own. It is what we are. We are a “sad song made better”, and if anything, we should learn that we are all subject to fault, and to strive to make ourselves better because of it.
So, in conclusion…go listen to “Hey Jude” and Carpe Omnia- don't just seize the day, seize it all.
“Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we're being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I'm liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That's what's insane about it.” – John Lennon
Hello and Happy New Year! 
