The microphones em 2020 explicado

The microphones em 2020 explicado

criado em: 18:37 16-12-2022

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Microphones in 2020

one long song
recorded nowhere
between May 2019 and May 2020

link externo

explain and highlight the beauty of the following verses:

The true state of all things:
I keep on not dying, the sun keeps on rising.
I remember my life as if it's just some
dreams that I don't trust, burning off, layered thick,
a cargo that I haul, wounds and loves unresolved.
I wake up with the sun in my eyes.
The present moment tries
but now I'm back where I was when I was 20,
crashing through salal alone and mumbling,
one moment thinking I'm wise
and in the next one I writhe,
trying to re-remind myself of something
learned then forgotten. Countless sunrises
burying the things I'd figured out the day before.
Like that I probably won't find shelter
in the arms of any other person
though I will try.
Again I'll deny
the blanketing sky,
the thing I just realized
for probably the millionth time,
that walking with my knees trembling is
the true state of all things.
The true state of all things is a waterfall
with no bottom crashing end
and no ledge to plummet off
full of debris and flowers,
never not falling,
and in it we swim and fall.
Sometimes beside, often apart.
It's just chaos heaving.
I wake up with the sun in my eyes
beneath present moment skies,
squinting and wondering how I got here.
Going through the contents of my backpack,
shaking out the dust to bring some empty space back,
filling a long merch table with artifacts,
looking back to see if I could draw a map
that leads to now.

The verses you provided describe the speaker's experience of life as a series of moments and memories, some of which are unresolved and linger in the present. They express the idea that life is constantly in motion, like a waterfall that never stops falling, and that we are all just part of this chaos, sometimes together and sometimes apart. The speaker reflects on their own journey, filled with ups and downs, and wonders how they ended up where they are now. The final lines, with the image of shaking out the dust and filling a table with artifacts, suggest a sense of looking back on one's past and trying to make sense of it. Overall, the verses convey a sense of the constant movement and uncertainty of life, and the speaker's effort to find meaning and connection within it.

I remember where I was
when I was 20 or 17 or 23.
The disinterested sun would still rise every morning
same as now. Dawn was loud.
I took my breakfast to the couch on the porch of the punk house.
Coffee and low tide smell and my life stretching out.
Spending hours each morning reading poems and staring off
and then snapping back to urgency, I did my dishes
then I would sprint to the studio again.
Spend all day and night digging in,
distorted bass, spliced tape, singing lines like
there's no end
and I won't look for you in my room about my friends.
I checked themicrophones(at)hotmail.com like once a week.
I would drive out to the ocean and not tell anybody.
I watched Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon in a dollar theater in Aberdeen.
It was a rainy matinee 2001, Sunday, March 18th,
and in the parking lot afterward
for a few minutes in the rain
I stood glowing with ideas of what I might try to convey
with this music. At that moment my mind flashing like a blade.
A 22 year old in flip flops running around in an empty mall parking lot lost in a martial arts fantasy,
it looks ridiculous now but the truth is:
alone there
something was formed.
The way they held themselves upright with tea in the opening scenes,
a warm formality, spines straight and feet planted wide,
un-tip-over-able like the bamboo'd undulating hills,
walking slowly, making eye contact, gliding,
the sound of empty wind when they sword-fought weightless in the bamboo
with a purity of heart that transcends gravity
leaping off the mountain into ambiguity
falling slow
as the end credits rolled.
I decided I would try to make music that contained this deeper peace
buried underneath distorted bass, fog imbued with light and emptiness,
I kept on driving out to the ocean.
It was raining so hard, I was wet wool caked with sand.
I watched the dunes migrate slowly.
Lost mind in the tall grass
Slowly the sound of roaring waves returned. I rose.
I returned to my station wagon with a wet face.
Extravagant solitude invigorates.

The verses you provided describe the speaker's memories of their younger years, specifically the time they spent making music and seeking inspiration. The speaker reflects on the moments that shaped their artistic vision, such as watching a martial arts movie and experiencing a sense of clarity and purpose. The speaker also describes their solitude and connection to nature, spending time alone by the ocean and observing the natural world around them. The use of specific details, such as the date and location of the movie and the sound of the waves, adds a sense of authenticity and nostalgia to the speaker's memories. The final lines suggest that this solitude and connection to nature helped to invigorate and inspire the speaker's creative pursuits. Overall, the verses convey a sense of the importance of personal experiences and moments of clarity in shaping one's identity and artistic vision.

I drove back to Olympia clear headed temporarily and went back into the studio to resume whatever this thing is:
this spooling out repetitive decades-long song string,
this river coursing through my life,
these wild swipes at meaning.
Now I circle back to look into the spring.
When I was 17 it was 1995.
I put the name Microphones on the tapes I would make late at night after work at the record store. I was already by then a couple years deep into this weird pursuit playing drums, copying lyrics out to hang them in my room until I started making my own embarrassing early tries at this thing that sings at night above the house,
branches in the wind bending wordlessly.
I wanted to capture it on tape.
At first I called my recordings a different name. I called it the Microphones on the 3rd cassette I made.
I loved recording and the equipment seemed to be living and it sang to me like static interference from the small AM radio station down the street, night in Anacortes in the mid 90's, oil tankers rumbling.
I stayed late recording every night then I drove back to my parents' house. My headlights through the trees along Heart Lake Road,
Winding down the dark slope beneath Mount Erie, I was already who I am:
a bottle of india ink, masking tape, a cardboard box of dubbed cassettes, Julie Doiron, Tori Amos, Cranberries, Sinead O'Connor, Eric's Trip, Red House Painters, Sonic Youth, This Mortal Coil,
Kurt Cobain had died. I had my driver's license and a girlfriend and we'd cling to each other and dream that anything's permanent.
Even back then the beast of uninvited change insisted itself in, and look here it still hangs
but when I was young I'd go driving in the rain.
I saw Stereolab in Bellingham and they played one chord for fifteen minutes. Something in me shifted. I brought back home belief I could create eternity.
Leaning the guitar up on the amp, taping down organ keys, feeding back forever, distorted waves of cymbals oceany.
Slowly starting to try to move the words beyond mere melancholy into something that rings true and old and useful hopefully, but when I was 17 I sang in the moment hurt romantically, grasping in the dark, like
shadows of the moon
on the back
of the car seat
where she sat once.
It's not that bad but I know I wanted to go deeper, beneath pain, beneath the human.
Is it because my parents barely had any money and preferred to leave the baby in the garden that I grew up to blur the boundary between myself and the actual churning dirt of this place, that it feels normal to me to speak with the voice of weather, to build and move into a mirage made of songs cascading down a rock face in a homemade myth?
Even deeper back into the mist:
when I was 12 or 13 on a family trip we hiked down a steep bluff to an ocean beach in whipping rain. My little brother's clothes got wet from playing in the winter waves. My parents made a fire of smokey driftwood and we huddled in and took his wet clothes off and held him naked above the flames. Smelling like smoke and salt on the drive home, surely this experience explains something about whoever it was that sang all these songs.
When you're younger every single thing vibrates with significance.
Gazing at the details in the artwork of a 7, devouring every word in a zine, there was barely internet.
Meaning gets attributed wherever appetite bestows a thing with resonating glowing ringing out through a life.
What from these times do I carry with me still? The things I survive return repeatedly and I find again that I am a newborn every time.
When I wake alone in the dark again
I swim
out into the lake of the heart
and in.
When I got back to Olympia from the ocean
I woke up early before dawn to start recording.
The things I wanted to communicate had to do with finding how to break out from seeing only the inside of reflected ocean on the sky.
It was early 2001 and I was almost 23. I'd finished recording the Glow pt. 2 and I was either always on tour or setting up a tour, always running, voracious, thirsty.
I'd go out to the lake with friends, swim out to the middle and dive as far as I could down to where the water gets cold, with open eyes.
We'd go up on the roof at night and actually contemplate the moon. My friends and I trying to blow each others' minds just lying there gazing, young and ridiculous and we meant it, our eyes watering.
The moon without abstraction then became a floating ball of rock in outer space, not a sticker or a light or a hole through black paper. We were making food and records and paintings and walking around beneath a real infinity. I felt my size.
That brief dissipating shock of looking into outer space and seeing just for a second the bottomless distance pressed against my face. My little mind trying to write it down, zooming out, a faint yelp lost in a thunderstorm. Sufficiently small, thinking on the geologic scale, making the voice of mountains.
Reaching beyond my old concerns from when I was 17 in 1995. All the layers of life glint in my flashing eye
simultaneously and at any moment we could die
and so with urgency I keep a candle by my side
and watch it disappear and glow at the same time.
The weather moves across the land and doesn't have a reason. This rippling uncertainty beneath our bones is still the true state of all things.
It was at a truck stop in northern Italy. I was on tour playing drums and always wandering off alone squinting into the setting sun, my notebook filling.
I was touring, living on an alternate plane within but set apart from this life where people wake and work and don't self uproot each day. Instead we passed through the towns like criminals. I was so gladly included in this rare world, this moving cult of groundlessness, roomless, moving, awake.
Across that parking lot, recognition of the same: Another touring American band, Bonnie Prince' Billy, all dressed in matching track suits and sunglasses, grizzled and silly, a kind of Italian tour costume, blending in but not really, and their playfulness with persona liberated me with permeability. I thought
who is it even that sings and who comes to life between the ears of the hearers in the rooms at night and how can we all get deep?
The packaging distracts from the nourishment it wraps.Fixation on the singer's face or on the band's name keeps us groveling and blind at the edge of a sea, unsubmerged in the singing waterfall, looking for a door into the mansion, taking this weird art project out into public, indulging in cultivated ambiguity about participants' identities, letting misperceptions hang because nothing's really true.
With this imagined collective called the Microphones I wrote about climbing up and dying and flying off as vultures, and a universe beyond, innocent of the real air of death that awaited down the path.
At the very end of 2002 I took the Microphones name and crumpled it up and burned it in a cave on the frozen edge of Northern Norway.
I made a boundary between 2 eras of my life, a feeble gesture at making chaos seem organized.
The roaring river carves on, laughing at my efforts
while the idea of something called Mount Eerie engulfed me and time refuses to stop.
Many many years later I heard Freezing Moon by Mayhem and these words jumped out:
the cemetery lights up again, eternity opens
and I say nothing stays the same, no one knows anything. Someone else lives in the house I used to live in and soon it will be torn down or burn and who would even want to live in a prolonged stagnation? I am older now and I no longer feel the same way that I did even 5 seconds ago. Watch me thrash around and try to gracefully allow the past to hang like no big deal.
Bands that break up and then reunite for money can do whatever they want but it makes me glad that I am only this one contrary grump (one hand clapping) impossible to reunite. Live, the present moment burns.
I will never stop singing this song. It goes on forever.
I started when I was a kid and I still want to hold it lightly: this luxurious privilege to sit around frowning and wondering what it means, playing with words and trying to prove that names mean nothing.
A finger pointed at the moon
mistaken for something shining and true.
I never used to think I'd still be sitting here at 41 trying to breathe calmly through the waves
but nothing's really changed in this effort that never ends.
When I took my shirt off in the yard I meant it, and it's still off. I'm still standing in the weather looking for meaning in the giant meaningless days of love and loss repeatedly waterfalling down and the sun relentlessly rises still.
It seems like I'll never not lose wisdom. Constantly re-learning all the basics, never recognizing any faces, crawling out from under living layers, squinting in the light of earth, bathing, shaking off the weight of expectation, plus all this nostalgia is embarrassing so I walk into an unknown room without a name.
So what if I label this song Microphones in 2020?
I hope the absurdity that permeates everything joyfully rushes out and floods the room like water from the ceiling, undermining all of our delicate stabilities, admitting that each moment is a new collapsing building.
Nothing is true but this trembling, laughing in the wind.
Anyway every song I've ever sung is about the same thing:
standing on the ground looking around, basically.
If there have to be words, they could just be
now only and there's no end

The verses you provided describe the speaker's experiences and memories of making music, as well as the influences and inspirations that have shaped their artistic vision. The speaker reflects on the importance of personal experiences, such as listening to certain music or attending concerts, in shaping their identity and creative pursuits. The speaker also touches on the theme of change and the passing of time, and the sense of constantly moving forward and starting anew. The speaker's reflections on their younger years convey a sense of nostalgia and longing for the past, but also a sense of acceptance and appreciation for the present moment. The use of vivid imagery and specific details, such as the location and date of events, adds depth and emotion to the speaker's memories. Overall, the verses convey a sense of the importance of personal experiences and the role of art in helping us to make sense of and find meaning in our lives.

Without context, it is difficult to accurately interpret the meaning of the phrase "only now and there is no end." However, based on the themes and ideas expressed in the previous verses, it is possible to make some inferences about what the phrase might mean.

One possible interpretation is that "only now" refers to the present moment, and the speaker is expressing a sense of acceptance or appreciation for the present moment as it is. The phrase "there is no end" could be understood to mean that life is ongoing and constantly changing, and that we should embrace this uncertainty and embrace the present moment. This interpretation fits with the overall theme of the importance of personal experiences and the constant movement and uncertainty of life.

Another possible interpretation is that "only now" refers to a specific point in time or moment of realization, and the phrase "there is no end" could be understood to mean that this realization or understanding is ongoing and has no end or conclusion. This interpretation could be related to the theme of seeking meaning and understanding in life.

Without further context or information, it is difficult to provide a more specific or definitive interpretation of the phrase "only now and there is no end." However, these are some possible ways that the phrase could be understood in the context of the themes and ideas expressed in the previous verses.