Music from the Moonstruck: Lunatic Soul

“Put all your soul into it, play the way you feel!" Fryderyk Franciszek Chopin

The Black Heart Procession: Tales from the Howling Wind

"In the time of this winter the waiter had not much to say. He could hear the clock but he could not find his way. If I'm so far from your heart why do I feel it beat? And time won't wait for us."

It's five o'clock in the evening. You are at the top of a mountain - there is nobody around you. It is winter time and night kills the day. All you see is endless fields of snow going gray with the dawning day. Time to go home? Not yet... There is a long way back for you. Your final sigh on the hills helps you see your ultimate shelter. There is warm glowing light inside, and perhaps a cup of hot chocolate waiting for you.

So you crawl up to where the only possible road leads you, a path of hard snow, only few footsteps seen on your way. Reaching your shelter, a dog is lying in front of the door. The final dish that he had was a few bones with some ice sauce and grass garniture. You open the door, slowly, curious to see if anyone's inside. There is simply nothing, except for the dim light from the fire burnt by the few oil lamps. Rubbing your hands, you find your seat at the bar still looking around to see some excitement or movement other than the clock ticking. Nothing yet... All at once, the waiter comes in, he must have heard you. You realize, he is your waiter, but he is also your customer, you are the waiter himself and your song begins here.

The Black Heart Procession sings like the wind with a violin, for it is the wind that carries away what is spoken. The wind howls and takes away something you hold on to, and it carries all feelings away like a tiny feather, until one day when that feather goes around the world to finally fly and crawl on your back to rest on your shoulder. That feather turns into a leaden note which sings for a broken heart and a sour stomach. Remember, you are sitting at an abandoned bar. The doors are squeaking, the clocks are ticking, the waiter (it's you) is breathing, the piano is detuned... All along your stay, those leaden notes with you... This is how winds carry us between our days and nights, between our seasons and moods. The winds inspire us all and The Black Heart Procession's wind may come from down beneath the cave or far away from the other end of the bar through a slightly open window. And a reminder for all those who need a fresh breath, you need to embrace this cold breeze because if you can, a gentle warm breeze will follow.

For The Black Heart Procession, a song is like the wind, or a sail which the wind blows away. The ships move away laying all the gold to the deep sea. All you can do is wait until the ship returns, because the journey must be taken. The feather needs to take the ultimate fly. It might take months and even years to complete the journey back to you. You will know when the journey is complete though. You need to forget about the feather first - can you really forget? You will find out... But once you do, a song you remember from the deepest and most hollow curls of your consciousness will help you. As you listen to (or feel) this music you find yourself wondering what has been lost, you write your own requiem.

A friendly caution here: When you write the songs like they do, use the popular 3/4 signature (and this signature is usually referred to as the bluest and/or romantic one), the dark tones of the piano, the squeaky and howling violin strings which gives you the atmosphere as if time is running out and you need to hurry and find that thing that you have lost. Or you could say, whatever you have lost, it is already too late and long gone - but hope never dies, spring always comes back. The bar will be full with friends soon. Parental guidance or a trusted company is recommended while you listen to your own song, you really look mad like that. Your song's composition and arrangement help an easy-listen experience, however the real challange is hidden inbetween words and colour of the tunes, which is usually black.

It's five o'clock in the evening. You are at the top of a mountain - there is nobody around you. It is summer time and day pushes the night. All you see is endless fields of wild grass and blossoming flowers. Time to go home? Not yet... There is a long night waiting for you. Your final sigh on the hills helps you see your ultimate shelter. There is warm glowing light inside, and perhaps a glass of beer waiting for you. You open the door, with beams of light rushing outside, you enter the crowd, nod everyone on the while, while you find your old companion on the corner. The piano plays bright and full of energy. This time a 4/4 signature...

Blackfield: Requiem for the Glow Long Gone

"River glass, cycle past, overcast
I saw it all in the blackfield

Copper sky, shadows rise, bridge of sighs

We had it all in the blackfield
Skin tracks, face facts, fade to black
In the blackfield"

Multiple times Cannes award winning Turkish director Nuri Bilge Ceylan said, "The gap between the depth of one's inner world and what he may speak out has always given me pain." Often enough, we see people who express themselves in a way that falls short in showing how intense the feelings really are. The whole world is full of philosophers, us, if ever only it was possible to project or monitor inside our brains; how sophisticated we really are would then be visible for all.

During the course of the daily life, we construct, we destroy, we reflect, we disprove, we learn, we conclude, we exclude, we generalize, we specialize - this is how we live - we think. Ironically however, when it comes to revealing, we look like idiots. We may spend a whole day, without exhibiting a single sign of all this energy inside. Yes, we need to be approved by others, we need to be decent, we have to behave, and we should not elaborate; we should not talk too much or look carried away or people might become bored or they might eventually, judge you. Yes, we are approval monkeys. We should be careful or we will point our weak spots out - we are always careful.

Some, on the contrary, choose some practical methods, in the form of compact and condensed thoughts and feelings. One of these methods being our dearest friend music! It eliminates the need for a direct audience, everyone is a potential target here.

While we grow up and grow older, we feel like our skin is stretched and can't take the burden of our body and soul anymore, which have become more and more greedy, jealous and selfish. Could that be one of the main reason of the ultimate pain we feel? Never contenting ourselves with what we get. And the glow we carry with us, does it go away? If yes, nobody knows where, but it actually does not leave us, we cover it with some make up. That glow used to nurture us, nourish us, protect and salvage us like a fetus hanging on to the uterus. Slowly falling off the uterus, is the ultimate pain.

Blackfield comes in at this point, and addresses this feeling, I know not much appealing for everyone, but seriously, somebody had to stand forth! Blackfield pull a good deal off decreasing "the distance" in that sense - trying to tell us what nobody dares think.

Blackfield is what you get when the prolific frontman of one of the most important progressive/psychedelic/postrock bands (whatever we want to call it, right?), goes out to a spiritual journey to the fertile crescent, the orphaned land. The versatile artist, producer and progressive rock musician Steven Wilson of Porcupine Tree and No-Man (for those who may not have heard of them, do expect me to tell you about them in the near future) meets Aviv Geffen, highly renown Israeli rockstar, in this supergroup project trying out and indeed proving good in finding a common standing point across the two edges of the continent.

I will tell you; Blackfield is the "down" music; when it's Blackfield time, it usually does not "feel good" as in "I feel good!". Yet, coming to my favorite part of groovegeek, close your eyes and picture time! Repeat this exercise when you are alone.

Close your eyes and picture that you're a child again. It's almost winter and you are in the middle of your school's playground around sunset time. Everybody's gone home, you are waiting for your dad or mum to pick you up. You have enough time to think about what you want to become when you grow up. You really thought you knew what life looked like, did you not? That made you so defenseless, yet innocent at the same time, you were a "tabula rasa". Come back to present time and look back at yourself now. It should feel like yesterday, does it not? Although your skin is far more stretched, you realize that nothing has changed actually, you still have your dreams, desires, curiosities, ignorance and so many things you don't know or understand about life and your future. Look closer, you will see the glow around him, call it aura. Blackfield sings this requiem and celebration for us all. Listening to their songs, you will feel like you have lost something: your innocence, your love, soul, blood and perhaps yourself - but you will sigh and come back with the things you find in your pocket - all the little things makes us happy

The melancholy and progressive style of music supports the feelings. Additionally, the gloomy and atmospheric effects used for the guitars for instance - the reverbs which gives you the impression that they perform at the other corner of a tremendous hall and the piano sections always there to do the deal talking to your childhood and just when you think you've had enough, the string synths kicking in and creating a rather cinematographic rhyme especially during the chorus parts, takes your heart inbetween two hands and squeezes. First aid - but this time the other way round.

Although musically not challenging in progressive terms; Blackfield has an expected high level production quality (thanks to Wilson). The music is intense, elaborate, intimate, innovative and and yet, simple and poetic. The two-piece makes use of the best of both successful singers. You will be able to tell who is who from the different accents and vocal quality, of course. The iterative shift between two different styles and voices does not reduce the integrity. However sometimes, it is not easy to distinguish some Blackfield songs from Porcupine Tree songs, since Wilson's sense of production is fairly dominant in the music. Plus, some songs might have used better and more artsy arrangements and editing.

All in all, Blackfield caters to all feelings. The basic problematics of the modern man, the new generation's world which is also seen in Porcupine Tree's "Fear of a Blanket" album, exists in Blackfield songs (Cloudy Now, Hole in Me, The End of the World). Some others are requiems for the love lost (Where is my Love, Miss U, Pain). Other losses (Glow, Scars, Lullaby). The English / Israeli hybrid renders a fairly simple discography - Blackfield I, Blackfield II. Blackfield will help you climb up the wells you have been in (if you hae been in one) and talk about it as much as you like. You can then take a long deep breath and fingers crossed to shave your scabs and get the glow back. It is quite possible that you'll find it all in the Blackfield.

Songs: Ohia: In Between the Desert and Jungle

I know I just can't get away with telling how difficult it is to describe bands, their songs and the feeling these songs impose on someone - in this case - me. This is why I wanted to have this blog. My critical success factor here, as I have set it, is being able to describe a band's music to everyone, even those who cannot hear.

Kicking off with this very entry, not the first guess for a band name one would say. You might think Songs: Ohia is a compilation of songs about Ohio where the one-piece band actually is hailing from; or songs dedicated to the Hawaiian tree "Ōhi‘a lehua". The real origins is an allusion between these two. After some minutes of googling, you come to find out that the band is basically classified as an indie band - such a broad term that falls narrow to define something-more-than-indie bands. Like alternative rock bands are no longer alternating anything, indie bands are today independent of nothing. They are all mainstream now, which is not something to criticize, but only a sign that trends have changed since the late 80s. These are just fancy tags to identify certain labels and give you a feeling of what you could expect from such bands: An artificially decreased level of commercialism, a so-called meticulous approach to avoid catchy partitions, lyrics that tend to shift the focus which used to be limited to sex and drugs and rock n roll.

Songs: Ohia is a band centred by Jason Molina, who used to play the bass guitar in a heavy metal band before getting involved with this project. The ultimate band is nothing like heavy metal, you just could not tell. When I say centred, it does not necessarily mean that he is the boss when it comes to deciding but more that the songs are concentrated around Molina's quality of singing and guitar playing. Molina sings like he's talking in an imperative manner. He wants you to hear him, hear what he wants to say: He calls! He's always talking to someone, trying to convince you. He has a fairly simple and plain way to do this. His voice is calming, never disturbing, never awkward.

Jason Molina draws influence major influence from underground bands he encounters during his tours. As he puts it in a recent interview, "Another important thing that happens is I am exposed on tour to dozens and dozens of very interesting bands that either open for Songs: Ohia or pass along their recordings to me. I love to hear this underground stuff, there are so many great ideas and so much hard work that goes on there that I really count it as an important influence on my own music. I wouldn’t say one band individually, but as a whole, these things have their place." It is hard to find any specific signs of mainstream or classical influence in his works. However, it is possible to find materials resemblance with Neil Young, Will Oldham and Alasdair Roberts. Production genius Steve Albini's contribution is priceless in such a unique band's recordings.

One of the first things you realize about Molina's guitar playing is that there is definitely a country, folk-rock and western aspect to the sound he makes. However, all of these terms are again too generic to define the band's particulars. The ultimate feeling I get is closing my eyes and imagining I am in the middle of a North American desert. Just picture cactuses, a horizon void of people or any sign of modern structures – only bushes swirling among the sands. It is almost evening and the only settlement nearby is a Native American settlement. People have gathered around a paleface, waiting for him to play for them. Molina picks up his guitar and is influenced by the exhilarating atmosphere. He speaks to everyone's hearts, to theirs and ours.

You will definitely find something archaic and/or gloomy in the songs. Something from the darkness of four o'clock in the morning, something that belongs to thousands of years before Christ in the moonlit shores of Nile. You will imagine two blue lights, a dead crow, and a black viper.

I first met Songs: Ohia, when Molina screamed on the radio: "I will swim to you!" He repeated this outcry dozens of times. At that moment, there's no choice left than to turn the volume up and listen closely. With only one sentence, you are bound to comprehend a whole novel-full of story. What crashing and intense feeling could ever make someone invoke so desperately. Molina travels and listens to ghosts on some of his songs. He does what the ghosts tell him to do. He's sort of obsessed with the idea that people are ghosts. He compares himself and other people. It is possible to see this as a metaphor, underlining how people can see inside you or per se ignore you.

Once any kind of music gives you that intimate feeling which makes you want to cry your lungs out, you know that you've found good music. After that, the genre, the notes, the lyrics, the arrangement, nothing matters. You can find it in any kind of note, in any word, in any part of the world. Because, although people live differently, talk differently, act differently, all the people "feel" the same way. Especially emotive responses towards music do not differ among cultures, once the necessary background for that kind of music is established. This is rather a strong argument to refuse any kind of bias or prejudice to any certain type of music and Songs: Ohia proves to be universal music in this sense.

Songs: Ohia'a songs are like a rattlesnake (mainly caused by the brushy style of the drums on many songs), it will crawl to your feet and climb up your legs in a decent manner, making decent sounds - nothing to be alarmed about, nothing artsy at first sight. Many people may quit at this stage, with a quick decision, judging on the every day patterns they find in the music, without actually waiting for the ultimate bite. Once the snake is in your arms, you would not be able to get away. Some songs, especially those ornamented by tropical essences, will carry you deep down to the woods, toxicated in a good sense and abandon you lying on a rock. When you wake up, eccentric bird sounds and a silent waterfall will be the only thing you hear. You'll try to figure out where you are. It will take some time until you realize that you're lying on your couch, your eyes closed and your body in mere incantation.

Songs of Ohio is not something you can devour or consume in a single course. Likewise, it is not something you can just drop immediately. Out of all the swagger and wannabe sophisticated music, this band stands out and shouts out trying to make us remember a message from a jungle full of ghosts from ancient history at the coasts of the river Nile: With a pure mind and clear message to us all: "Just Be Simple Again!"