Open the Door, See What You Find
Open the Door, See What You Find (named after the Noel Gallagher song) is a monthly series where I curate some of the odds and ends I’ve discovered this month from the worlds of art, culture and beyond. I will try to keep things as diverse as possible to keep you guys on your toes. So open the door, see what you find: I can only guarantee that it will be something new.
John Dowland – Can She Excuse My Wrongs? (A.KA. The Earl of Essex Galliard)
You know that mood where all you want to do is stay indoors and cry and listen to the lute? That’s where I am right now. For the last few years I’ve been teaching myself classical guitar at snail’s pace. John Dowland composed some wonderful tunes during the Renaissance era. I’m not entirely sure if he wrote for both guitar and lute, or lute alone and his work was later adapted for guitar. Either way, aspiring guitarists from any genre would do well to study the man’s work. Here is a performance of one of my favourite Dowland pieces from the grandmaster Julian Bream.
Meridian Brothers – Mandala
Is it embarrassing that I’d never heard of these guys before? Never mind, I’m on board now. This is music that I struggle to categorize. It sounds like it could be the native sound of an obscure country you are not sure exists or not: Kabawalo, for example. Yet, supposedly these guys are American, so maybe it’s something completely new. Lyrically, this track adds to the long list of one-word songs (I cannot think of one other example right now. Lemon Twig’s “Everyday is the Worst Day of My Life” comes close) and the title does an onomatopoeic thing of describing the type of object the song is. Like, this song is not about a mandala. It is a mandala. It’s like if you wrote a song about your friend John and called it “A Song about My Friend John”.
Nicholson Baker – The Mezzanine (1986)
An engaging if insignificant experimental novel, which I discovered from this (link) article about how to read Infinite Jest. I can totally see the David Foster Wallace connection. The premise: one man, on his lunch break in a boring office job, thinks about a bunch of random shit, like the changing nature of shoelaces and the awkwardness of male urinals. We get plenty of digressive footnotes, if that’s your bag. Towards the end of the novel (this isn’t really a spoiler because there isn’t really a plot) our protagonist buys a copy of Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations and perhaps that contrast between the profound and the mundane is What The Book Is Saying. In other words, boring jobs are boring.
Vince Staples - Dark Times
One of the most well-produced albums of the year so far, Dark Times is a chilled work that stays just on the right side of underwhelming. The cringeworthy tale of “Justin” is rightly grabbing headlines, but don’t dismiss the Zen awakening of closer “Why Won’t the Sun Come Out?” Yes, the soothing synth lines are out of place with the aggressive percussion of the other tracks. I like that. The climax catches you by surprise, culling the album to a pleasing brevity. Dark Times is a masterful miniature.
Kevin Barry - The Heart In Winter
Just started this new novel from the Sligo-based writer. While this one is set at the turn of the century in Montana, it still feels distinctly Irish. Barry divides his narrative into small chunks, almost like a verse novel. The rugged landscape may remind you of that great American genre: the Spaghetti Western. For me, all I can think about is Jimmy McCarthy’s song “Ride On”, pulled into iconic status by Christy Moore.
And finally, a dumb poem I wrote about meditation called “Passing Thought”:
what was I thinking about
just there
I was worried about something,
something important
I was terrified, absolutely shitting myself
what was it
oh yeah.