Sonic Pancake: Eyes On Fire

When I was in elementary school I vividly remember my 3rd grade teacher, Mr. Whitaker, teaching us about compound words. Some examples of compound words are: crosswalk, football, keystroke, sidekick and duckpin (awkward)... and that’s just to name a few. At an early age I learned to love words, so we can all blame him for my verbarian rambling and love of the thesaurus. Mr. Whitaker told us that compound words were like pancakes, two delicious morsels stacked upon each other to create a new meaning for awesome.. The term "Pancake Word" stuck with me and now I am throwing it back to you, but lets redefine it shall we.

A Pancake post is an audio post of an original song and then either a remix or cover of the same song stacked neatly on top. You can enjoy the deliciousness of both songs at once, pretty cool? Yes?

So let the Pancake post frenzy begin! 

The first Pancake Post is on Blue Foundation’s song - Eyes on Fire. I’ve chosen this song because I feel like it’s easy to digest, some of it is humiliating (so you’ll chuckle) and it could be neutral ground to start on. When I first heard of Blue Foundation it was due to Pandora. It was several years ago, I was working at the Fireworks Supermarket in Cleveland Tennessee. It was a great job to have during college. I didn’t have to do a lot and I was always a few steps ahead the customer base mentally. I never felt like I was wasting my time in college whenever I sold $300.00 dollars worth of explosives to someone who couldn’t spell their last name, or spent the last 45 minutes laughing over the phrase “flaming balls”. Whenever I closed I was all by myself. Just me, the radio and several thousands of dollars worth of explosives. You’d think I got lots of homework done there, but no, not really. I just browsed the web and hunted for new music. I always felt a small degree of guilt whenever I discovered a band on Pandora. Don’t ask me why, but I felt as though I should know everything their “music genome” project would/should pump out. 

I had no idea Blue Foundation was on the Twilight soundtrack (and the soundtrack is actually really good too *hold your stones*). Let me first off say that I am fairly neutral when it comes the franchise. I've seen the movies, tried reading the books, but my medieval history class got in the way of that. I even redboxed New Moon upon being bored on a rainy day. But being 25 and male, its become apparent that I either should hate Twilight or have a really good excuse for even considering it entertainment. I can't pick a side, but I can say in the truest of spirits, I'd date Kristen Stewart. 

In a heartbeat. 
That lip bite thing she does is so hot ---->
------>
Moving on...

So here is the original song by Blue Foundation. When it came on Pandora I immediately went to the office. clicked the “thumbs up” button and started to google them. That’s when I discovered that they were on the Twilight soundtrack and I had haven’t felt that conflicted about enjoying a song since Yellow Card’s “Miles Apart”.I love Eyes On Fire because it is extremely simple and there is beauty in it’s simplicity. The guitars are a melodramatic waltz and the structure of the song is haunting. I respect the fact that the band doesn't jump in your face with emotion, rather they let the static and hum exercise the emotional wheels in your mind. One could also appreciate the raw atmosphere the band creates by focusing on the lead singers vocals. The fog of her echoed voice dissipates like dry ice and the bass lights up like hazard lights in the distance. It has a folky artistry that begs the story to the song. So go ahead and take a moment to listen to it.

On to the Remix!

I'm not much of a dancer or clubin' man, but this shit is gold. What's great about this remix is that original feeling of the song is not lost. It’s a great continuation of the story that was built by the original version. It's almost like watching Halloween and Halloween II back to back. You now can't live without the other, and they fit perfectly together. (I might get killed for that comment, sorry horror movie buffs) Nothing is stained, just tweaked for a new perspective. 

Let me know what you think. Be sure to email or comment on what you think would be a good Sonic Pancake. 

I'm all ears.

Pancake Post done!

5 Songs We Use Not to Talk. Pt. 1.

#1 The Daywalker

Shout Out Louds // Very Loud.

“But I wanna change, change the way we always have

And to make different plans and try not to make this sad…”

As I teetered into my room, cane in one hand, cup of coffee in the other, I turned on the light and just stood there for a moment. Whether if it was due to the medication or just because I naturally stop to dwell, I froze and non-verbally judged my room. There were pants, socks, cards, candy wrappers, record sleeves and just random shit… everywhere. It’s one thing to lose your zen in a place that is your own, but it’s another to lose it when you are forced to move back into your parents’ house. Yeah, this was my old room and I moved back there due to medical reasons.

The last time I lived there was about a year ago when I was in transition from one apartment to another. These transitions happened only a few times because once I was 18 I out like a candle. I never tried to stay longer than I had to either, their place just wasn’t where I wanted to be. Being at my parents was always an internal struggle, so whenever I vacated, I did it in a hurry and always left much behind. Transitions, they’re not my favorite card in the deck that life seems to give me often.

"My room’s a fucking mess…" I thought to myself.
I sighed and decided that something must be done. You ever get that wild hair up your ass, the one that says, "Gosh I should clean?” well I did. And the thing is, I rarely clean my room! It always self-implodes hours later, so I preemptively came up with a strike plan; I had to make another mess before I could start cleaning! My mind needed retrospective destruction, so I opened my closest and began to dig through one of the old boxes that I had left in there years ago.

I didn’t exactly know what I was searching for, but I knew there was something in this box that would satisfy. After digging through old hats, Star Wars posters and “How to Learn Japanese” cassette tapes I found it, my old CD wallet, a.k.a. the bible. Back in its heyday the wallet was bursting at the seams. CDs were double stacked on each-other, crammed into those clear cd slips and album art inserts cushioned the back like a stack of pillows. The variety ranged from the Japanese punk boy-bands like Mongol 500 and the Garlic Boys to deep and classic cuts like Johnny Cash’s vault collection and Live’s “Throwing Cooper”. But then I saw them, The Shout Out Louds. Enter the Daywalker…

When I listened to love songs back in 8th grade I was defined by butt-rock, such as Course of Natures “Supercalla”, America Hi-Fi’s “Flavor of the Week”, and even “Hero” from the Spider-Man soundtrack, written by Chad… Kroeger… (Oh, did I ever get saved). I was your “A-typical” 14 year old, with his mind pockmarked by my female colleague’s newest addition, breasts. And I thought breasts loved butt-rock, so my song with my first girlfriend was “Caught in the Sun” by Course of Nature… She broke up with me the day I got out of the hospital, so perhaps that wasn’t the wisest choice. But all that changed when I started to listen to bands like The Shout Louds, Wolf Parade and Green Day (RIP). My perspective on love songs changed, my relationships lasted longer and breasts became more metaphorical foreplay than attack and defend. Love songs, they don’t have to sound like… complete and utter butt-hurt-bull-shit. 

Derp...

I squatted on the floor and shoved the CD into my record player like it was a parrot and begged it to talkback. It came to life, but before it even had the chance to blink or even play the first song I mashed the next button to my favorite track, track two, “Very Loud”. As soon as the rolling drums hit, that’s when it happened, the sweet beast herself, nostalgia. In a constant hum of musical rubble and re-enhanced oblivion I remembered I wasn’t alone.

The static in the air shrank and I heard my friend Amy stir who had been sitting on my bed the whole time. She had been over to help me organize my room, rearrange it, beautify it, etc, but I was lost. As soon as I stepped into the unintentional need for reconnection I unknowingly brought her along with me. Like the good Dr., Amy had unknowingly stepped into my Tardis and was now experiencing a time shift that she couldn’t see or understand, teenage Me.

I tried to explain to her how I moved up and down the genre ladder like a drunk fireman. How the paradigm shift in music was like moving from dove soup to juicy couture and then back. The change affected my relationships, my driving, smoking, etc… but the fragmented rambling, it felt useless. So I just let the song play, over and over again. As it played I could feel her understand what I was trying to say and little by little my secret world, and she was day walking*, just like me. To use the daywalker is to slip into a world that is outside of our time but yet to still common in the present. We are listening to a jogging dream, a bookmark for a reserved seat in a museum, we are vampirically feeding during our nap time, we are not talking. But, just because we are using this song to “not talk” does not mean we are not communicating, in fact for some it may be the most significant moment of that day, week or month. The transformative language of this type of song will happen in movements, just as it did for me. At first I became lost and unaware of my surroundings. I discovered, relapsed into memory and then followed it to wherever it lead me. I honestly could have had this moment with other songs, and that doesn’t make the Shout Out Louds any less significant, but I had it with them and it was destiny. 

So what’s your daywalker? What song do you use not to talk about the past, but to feel it, experience and share it?

“But I wanna smell, smell the way you do

And to wear those clothes, the clothes your friends do

But I always choose another way

So this is why this love can't stay…”

- Shout Out Louds // Very Loud.

Cancer Update Video's

Cancer Update Diaries/vlogs. 

So I've been working on my video blogs (vlogs) and I have decided to post them up on this site.
Video #1 is only on my Facebook page because it was made the day after I got out of hospital, so I just "winged" it.
Most of the time I will try not and make cancer the primary focus of this blog because my cancer does not define me, but right now it's kind of in the drivers seat. The videos contain good music, some cool photos and the story so far on my battle with Multiple Myeloma.

So here they are.

Video #2

Video #3

My name is Brady Effler and I am currently unemployed because I am going through chemo treatments. I was diagnosed with Multiple Meyloma at the end of July 2013, and now I'm fighting the good fight. If you liked what you read, please feel free to donate. I am currently trying to pay off my student loans and other bills (pills, hospital visits, etc...). Anything you give is awesome. Thanks again for reading. I'm not begging, or trying to pull the wool over anyone, just being honest.

Sonic-naut

She's Out There // Honeybus.

Talking about productivity on the internet can be dangerous.
How dangerous? Well, I tell you this because as an artist I think you'll understand...
Cat photos are everywhere and they are the captains of time consumption and productivity.
But I'm going to try and tackle it in the only way I know how; musically! Productivity, what exactly is that? Let's start with an example of what it does not look like.There are some days where I barely get out of bed mentally but my body tends to wonder the apartment floor like some lost soul. I either get stuck to my computer watching cat gifs, or I'm glued to my TV because I am on my latest fix of How I Met Your Mother. But if I'm feeling really lethargic I revitalized my X-box  or Nintendo and I put in an unhealthy amount of hours working my way to becoming the next Sith Lord, Dragon King or Pokè-master. It's safe to say that I am barely productive when these days occur, or at least what I'd like to call "productive". 


The dictionary says:

the quality, state, or fact of being able to generate, create, enhance, or bring forth goods and services.

So lets go with the "bringing forth of goods" section of that definition. Therefore, I want to be "sonically productive". To go forth within this techno world as a crusader. I want to discover new worlds, cultures, languages and bring them back for your listening pleasure. When I am being sonically productive I know that I haven't wasted a moment finding out what the hell is out there, and I find my life to be more enjoyable when I am sonically productive. I love it when I find new music that revolutionizes what my ears have been used too.
I am a hunter and gatherer.
I am man, hear me double click!
I peck around till i find little gems, like free bandcamp.com downloads My most recent and proud discovery :) Damn Robot!
<---
I have gathered a couple of sites for you to use, just as I do. So be ready to dive right in.
"Yoo-Hoo shit head!"
:) Happy hunting
<---


1) TasteKid
When you first stumble on this website it will look like a normal search engine, but its not. This site is built kind of like pandora but no audio player. Another exception is that it recommends music, movies, book, television etc... You type in your favorite band, movie, what ever it is and it gives a list of similar bands, movies that you'd be interested in. In the image below I typed in Neutral Milk Hotel into the search bar just for an example.


Granted... I don't think I would have placed Panda Bear or The Antlers in the similar category of like styles... but hey at least its suggesting good stuff!
This is really helpful if you are really trying to zero-in on a musical style or genre. You may have to be careful though, when using this for making mixes, because not every band belongs there. But the cool thing is that you can save your "likes", "dislikes" and "Mehs" on to a profile. Once you save it, that artist or movie no longer pops in the que.

Here is a screen shot of a part of my profile.

I hope you sign up and enjoy collecting as I have done. It's totally worth it.

2) Chart Attack

This is a website that I am still getting used to, but it is full of amazing indie and undiscovered music. You can stream full albums and they also have a sub-group called MP3 round up. It delivers a ton of videos that you'd have to hunt for otherwise on Vimeo or Youtube. They have interviews, artist of the month watch live concerts, like when Bon Iver and Radiohead preformed at Austin City Limits.

What initially attracted me to their website was an article on the "best" time wasting online music creators/generators to which you can find HERE. I definitely recommend Chart Attack when you feel that righteous vibe and need to water that buzz before you get all harsh, dude.

3) Sputnik Music

I absolutely love this review site. It's a lot like punknews.org or pastepunk but associates it's self with more genres. They have 7 different sections: Metal, Punk, Alt/Indie, Rock, Hip-Hop, Pop and Other. Their contributing writers are a lot better than the "hit or miss" that you might find looking else-wear. Sputnik Music also allows their users to write reviews as well, and whats exciting about that is a message board begins to percolate, brewing a decent discussion. Their user reviews also review albums of the past, which is awesome! They have discussion boards, sound-offs and you are able to keep track of reviews that you have liked and disliked. Forward thinking users unite!!!

I usualy hit up this site about twice a day, just to see what's come out that I have missed. So far, I am more glad that I have, than I haven't. Take some time to read their reviews and you won't regret it.
Ever imagine how Taking Back Sunday's - Tell All Your Friends or Pink Floyd's - Darkside of the Moon would be received today?
Well now is your chance.

4) Brain on Fire

Do you love free downloads? I would hope so. Brain on Fire is a Blogspot based site that endorses new music and provides links to Bandcamp.com. Most of these bands will allow you to download their music for free or you can donate how ever much you would like. It's rather simple... You see band, you read "like" bands, track listing, can listen to them right there on the spot or go to their bandcamp site.

Above is a screen shot of Damn Robot!'s little piece, but the most important part for me was the highlighted DOWNLOAD link. I have found many bands to be appealing, ranging from prog-post rock to metal. Now be warned, you might like everything, so use your excellent judgement based on album art...
Last but not the least.

5) 8tracks

The human imagination is an amazing machine of emotion and ingenuity. A girl, dark and beautiful once said to me:
"Brady, mix cd's are you love language, aren't they?". I responded with the most proud and blushed face I could muster and said, "It's how I tell you i love you with out saying I love you. It's how I cry in front of you, it's how I laugh with you, it's how I talk to you... with out even saying a word. Mix cd's are a gateway into our soul."
At 8tracks anyone can make a mix and post it and I love it.
There are tens of thousands of mixes for you to sort through. You'll never get through them all, its impossible... that's why you should listen to mine! (ha... but no please?)

With 8tracks you can create a profile. Once you have done that you can like mixes or just individual tracks. Your profile keeps track of your activity and provides you with a direct youtube link to the songs. You can also follow particular individuals and be notified once they post a new mix. This is a great way to get into the heads of the people around you and also friends of yours.


So now that I have told you some of my secrets, it's time to implement them. Go forth and discover music. Let me know what you find, what you like, what you hate, but most of all tell me that you have been productive. My little sonic-naut :)



My name is Brady Effler and I am currently unemployed because I am going through chemo treatments. I was diagnosed with Multiple Meyloma at the end of July 2013, and now I'm fighting the good fight. If you liked what you read, please feel free to donate. I am currently trying to pay off my student loans and other bills (pills, hospital visits, etc...). Anything you give is awesome. Thanks again for reading. I'm not begging, or trying to pull the wool over anyone, just being honest.

Keeping Track of History Pt. 4: Dream Catcher

Keeping Track of History Pt. 4: Dream Catcher

It isn't often that I get lost in a piece of music, but today it happened again and it was hauntingly beautiful.

The rain was cluttered at my window, pawing at the pain of glass; as if my cat was begging to get in, a soft gray mood waited patiently as I was illuminated by my computer. It was a typical friday afternoon, plenty of energy and nothing to do. As I scrolled through the series of pages I typically explored for new music I saw the image of Charlie Chaplin, all in black and white with the caption, "Material Of My Own." I clicked the white play icon and as Zacho Fraser crooned I was reminded of this story from my childhood.  

When I was 16 years old I went to Japan for the summer for school. Whether by ornate curiosity from the instructors or blind luck I was selected to be a part of a small squad of students that would participate in a exchange program in Iwate, Japan. At 16 I was five foot four, golden blonde with a disheveled grin and dressed like a Hot Topic ad before there was such a thing. Frankly, it's always an embarrassing moment when a female interest finds these photographs that mother and sister have stashed away like the easter bunny. I went with several friends and soon to be friends as well, but my two closest comrades were Geoff and Jacob. Before we left for Japan Geoff, Jacob and I barely knew anything about each other, but now we can safely say we know what we look like in our skivvies and would trust each other with our lives, or pokemon card collection -- at the time of course. Geoff usually had his dirty blonde mop kept in place by one large red sweatband. He wore large cargo pants, black combat boots and you could always hear him coming with the amount of necklaces and metal bracelets he wore. If you ever got this poor boy talking about electronica, gameboys or obscure anime, good luck shutting him up. 

Geoff was an electro junkie, listening to Dieselboy and Daft Punk. Jacob on the other hand shared similar qualities, such as anime, video games and general interest in the female body, but they look like polar opposites. Jacob was small, had a brown bowl haircut (that his mother probably cut for him) and was Jewish. Jacob was quiet and had a chuckle that seized his body. Jacob always made me feel funny or like the comedian of the group, so I often tested out my jokes on him. We were the three amigos full of sexual angst and without even the slightest clue or definition of what that even meant.

There's something odd about being sent to a country that is both highly sexualized but yet conservative when one is fully engulfed by the quicksand of puberty. All the girls were cute, I wanted them all, and the condom and cigarette vending machines told me I could have them all too. Japan was just one giant illusion of subservient ants bluffing the carnal and untamed sexual drive of the King of the Jungle. But I guess once a suit hits the floor, it no longer makes the man. I guess that's how it works, right? Well one day we were in Tokyo and the guys and I decided that we would go to Akihabara, or a.k.a. "Electric Town". It was the perfect place for kids our age. On every corner there was an arcade, comic book stand, video stores and tons of girls walking around in adorable schoolgirl outfits -- stockings and all. 

After browsing the comic book stands, Japanese Radioshacks and novelty shops, which by the way contained the predicted amount of henti and "engrish" products, I felt overwhelmed and slightly sick. My senses were bombarded with products supposedly used by a human being, black and white pencil drawings of girls being seduced by bipedal humanoids, videos with bold pink lettering covering up what seemed to be children and the smell of burnt plastic over hot wires. Soon all the stores seemed to blend together like a poorly stitched music video, cigarette burn in the top corner and the same extras in every background. I couldn't take it, so we hopped on a train.

Ever wished you could slow down time? Well you can, or at least not intentionally. In the metro station below the bowels of Akiabara, the trains were lined up parallel to each other like the gigantic locks of a linoleum dam. One train the middle, separated by a sea of people flooding the on ramp, transferring the weight from box to another. The doors opened like shutters on a space shuttle, out of sync but in a musical rhythm let out puffs of unsterile air in white fragile clouds. The men held parcells, dirty magazines and the women clutched their bodies. It was as if they were trapped in the headlights of the floor, muscle memory and darwinian logic kept them safe. 

I was standing in the middle of the metro car, holding onto a metallic poll as the door to my left geared open and a mass of people poured in like squishy marbles. Geoff fought for a seat, swishing from side to side as his beads clanked on tapped bystanders. He was victorious and claimed the seat. Geoff pulled out his walkman and turned it on, lost in the beat of some volatile break beat Once Geoff had his head phone one, he might as well be deaf. Only shiny objects and earthquakes would break him out his deep electro trance. Jacob on the other hand, who had also been successful in finding a seat was caught between the only two obese people on the car. Imagine the smallest amount of frosting between two large oreo cookies, that was Jacob. He looked miserable. I knew not to look at him because there would be a good chance he’d start laughing, get embarrassed then start looking for the quickest exit to escape his lack of social ques. 

Then the door on my right popped, then clicked and gasped and finally opened as if the gear-grease was made of sticky sugar. More squishy marbles gushed past me, back out into the sea of people. As they exited, the door on the train parallel to us opened, succinct timing for the wave to transfer from one box to the other. 

It was gross.


I had an open line of sight from where I was standing to the other train car across the sea. My peripheral vision was cut off, I could not see Geoff. I could not see Jacob. I could only see straight ahead of me. The claustrophobia of the parted sea walls were closing in -- and in that moment time stopped, and I was alone. I gaze drifted across the way and to my surprise I found that I was staring into the eyes of someone. Someone one beautiful.
She had been looking at me the whole time, or well, that's at least what my body had told me. Gentlemen, she was radiant. 

I must have been staring at her for longer than I had realized because my hands had molded to the poll by the clammy sweat of palm. Her eyes were like dream catchers, so unique that I could only see it in my sleep. Her skin was fair hair, auburn; bobbed and curtsied just under her jaw. She clutched the poll and had rings, metallic rings. There were embers painted below her eye lids and pale lips that were curving into a smile... a smile. She was looking at me, and as soon as my brain had sent the signal of realization to my body time found its proper place. It was like waking up in the middle of a high speed motorcycle chase or bracing for light speed. The doors sucked them selves as if to quarantine and the train took off like a slingshot. I was smiling, but it was too late because the only person that could see it was me; deep within the reflection of the protective glass of the train car door. As I stepped off the train moments later at the next stop, I gathered my thoughts and went home.Some moments in life are like this.
A dream and only a dream.

Zacho Fraser is an independent artist from Auckland/Wellington, New Zealand and composes music that lures you into his world. To quote two bands, it's like slipping into a fever and the sound of sugar pouring into tea -- simply good.

Find a pair of headphones or find a quiet place to chill. You'll need to be alone to fully absorb this one.

P.S. You can download his music HERE. 
You're welcome. 





My name is Brady Effler and I am currently unemployed because I am going through chemo treatments. I was diagnosed with Multiple Meyloma at the end of July 2013, and fighting the good fight. If you liked what you read, please feel free to donate. I am currently trying to pay off my student loans and other bills (pills, hospital visits, etc...). Anything you give is awesome. Thanks again for reading. I'm not begging, or trying to pull the wool over anyone, just being honest.

Keeping Track of History Pt. 3: In the presence of the "Secular".

 

Put down... All your weapons.
Let me in through Your open wounds...
Finding God through secular Music.

"The road to the sacred leads through the secular."  

-- Abraham Joshua Heschel

  Son Lux

Secular music verse the none secular; could that really be a... thing? Is one bad for you and the other good? What makes music sacred and what makes it secular? Or better yet, why the fuck should you care?
Through out my years as a child I grew up under a christian roof, and no the roof wasn't on fire. The patriarch was a pastor and the matriarch was his guide, following quietly in the shadowed footsteps of God.  My father used to be drummer and my grandfather played the organ like a saint, but I was never captured by the evangelical argument that music was either secular or sacred. The halls of my household echoed scores of famous composers and 60's surf swag from the Beach Boys. I was surrounded by tapes and Cd's from all walks off life. My first two cassette tapes were the Top Gun soundtrack and the Mortal Kombat soundtrack. It was very much a "wax on -- wax off" method in my room. I took it to the danger zone with  Kenny Logins, and then once Take My Breath Away by Berlin started to play I switched tape. I did my usual cool down/post work-out by destroying Lego's with the classic Liu Kang bicycle kick. It was an art. (No need to argue about that.)
During the summer months with my cousin and I blasted Metallica, Godsmack and Incubus (post Fungus Amongus) while fantasizing about what it would be like to "do" Rouge from X-Men. At the dawn of my teenage years my parents gifted me the album 13 Ways to Bleed on Stage by Cold before my open heart surgery. Their hit song was "Just Got Wicked". I'm pretty sure B-rated wrestlers from the WWE made that their intro song... I don't know what my parents were thinking, but I'm pretty sure the only reason I got away with it was because there was a small percentile that I might die the next day. 
(Prayer quickly followed).

"I can taste your innocence 

Young and sweet like mother made you 

Everything froze in to ask

These motherfuckers just got wicked..."

I'm not here to argue that Cold is more or less sacred then bands like DC Talk but I am hinting that there could be the minuet possibility. There was a moment on my hospital bed when that nurse who looked like Mr. Cleans gay father took away my Walkman. (One of those "From my cold dead hands!" moments.) He told me to count to ten backwards as I laid there in my hospital gown, wondering if I'd ever wake up after this was done. The last song I had in my head was the butt-metal anthem, Send in the Clowns, and I didn't feel afraid. Divine or not, I was comforted. 
I still like that song.

“After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.”

― Aldous Huxley, Music at Night and Other Essays

Angus & Julia Stone

I had a conversation with a dear friend of mine long ago. Let's just call her Miranda. The subject of personal failure arose, and like an ugly head it glared back at us as if it lived in the bathroom mirror. Like Miranda, I struggled daily with the thought that I have not been living up to my fullest potential. I tended to loath my self more than the actual instances that had occurred in my life that formed and shaped me into who I am today. Miranda saw this, and she could read me like a book. But this evening she she sat in my wicker chair on my front porch like a blank page, frizzled and smoking a single cigarette. She was like an Eels song, just a beautiful freak with a lo-fi smile. 
Earlier that week she was crippled by some "holier-than-thou" boy. He spoke over her words of affliction concerning her attire and constitution. Some, or rather those with a single original thought, would find her beautiful for things like her affectionate twitch and distinctive pitter-patter of trailing thoughts, but this boy did not understand -- thus was prejudice. Make matters worse, she actually like this prick.
  
Within our culture today, maybe even in particular for women, there is the problem of self-deprecation that is brought on by the trivia of others. These moments often lead to intrusive thoughts mostly about our relationship with others. We tell our selves that we are ashamed for feeling different, third wheeling relationships, not having the prettiest husband/wife or none at all. There is this constant sense that we need to prove our selves because we were born unworthy, born without reason. We struggle to make up our dreams, goals and/or our "calling" on the spot as if to sing karaoke in front of thousands. We claim it as our own. And if we don't have nail the song in front of them, then we are fucked. 
If there is anything I've noticed from being around the block, it is this: More kids, teenagers, and adults are finding their peace through "secular" music than a sacred workshop that teaches them to clap.

"Tell me anything you want to tell me.

I have nothing to say.I have nothing to say to you,

But you have everything to say to me.

You have everything to say to me."

Son Lux

As Miranda and I sat there in the humidity of the lowering Tennessee sun, I decided to put on some music. I guess that's my calling card, but hey, it works for me. I picked the self-titled album by Son Lux and set my laptop on the ground littered with cigarette ash. My favorite song, Break, came on and I explained to her what it was about, or at least... what I assumed it was about, which lead to me saying this to her:

(Journal entry from May of 2009) The war we fight is a war for uniqueness, made by television, magazines and sexual predators. But have we lost the war if we chose to even recognize the battle? A battle that has strung us like a marionette puppet. A temperamental brand of barbed chords hiding the snare that violently adulterates and perverts it's self like a parasite into our chest. Are we really who we are or even want to be?

 
Miranda asked me to repeat the song again, and again. And each time the song repeated she had something new to say. She would comment on the bizarre opening break down, relating it to opening moments of a car crash. As she talked about the song she painted the horrific image of standing in the middle of freeway while it rained both water and ash, "searching for your friend within the twisted metal" she said. "But there's always something beautiful waiting,"

She asked me how peaceful could death really be. 
"Would it be as smooth as the piano once the drums are done fighting?", she said. 
I don't remember my exact response, but looking back on it, I can only imagine that it would be that smooth. Pain dribbling off a window like water as we sleepily count backwards from ten.

Now that I look back on it I feel like I could have put on a number of records, but it was that one and it was devine. 
It's not the genre or the classification of music that makes it bad or good, secular or sacred, but it is what is at the core of the moment. 
So when does music really mean impact us?
I believe that music means the most when we don't do anything about it. It's an apocalyptic revelation, an occurrence that brews from the soul of your gut, and you never knew it was there. Music means the most when the story of your life collides with the sincerity of the present emotion. Miranda spilled her heart out that night, but I didn't catch her nor did I even dry her tears, the music did. 

Several smokes and bathroom breaks later we started to play "pass the laptop". Miranda would typically pick something like The Ataris or Sugarcult. She would reminded me about how she saw them live, or she'd tell me again about the guy she used to date who tried to swoon her by covering "Punk Rock Princess" by Something Corporate. My insides would hurt with laughter because her ex was no garage band king, more like a prepubescent Rob Lowe.

Miranda tied her untamed hair into a topknot, patted me on the arm (to sweaty to hug) and hopped into her Honda blasting The Authority Song by Jimmy Eat World, which was a vast improvement from when she pulled up two hours before to quiet drone of Damien Rice. 
When Miranda left my front porch, she stunk of off-brand smokes and smiles, 
but more importantly

"She was back." 
As she drove home that night,  I could feel her energy for five blocks. 


Jimmy Eat World.

Yes, we did have a meaningful "bro-down" but it was more than that, it was the moment of what was playing in our hearts. It was the music that carried us both home. We didn't find it in a hymnal or a Newsboys anthem, we found the sacred meaning of love and compassion in "secular" music. I think the true argument is this: are you listening to music that is keeping you together or tearing you apart? Are you listening to music that places you in a box or music that re frames the box? 

We are a generation that is hungry for the spiritual, not a church service, but a revelation of the soul and it's painfully obvious that we can find that through the music we choose to listen to. So next time you listen to a record, break out the lyrics, figure out the chords, or paint a picture and you may be surprise by what you see and feel.

Also, here's a small challenge. Make your self a mix. Give it a name and make it important.

Shaky Graves 


My name is Brady Effler and I am currently unemployed because I am going through chemo treatments. I was diagnosed with Multiple Meyloma at the end of July 2013, and fighting the good fight. If you liked what you read, please feel free to donate. I am currently trying to pay off my student loans and other bills (pills, hospital visits, etc...). Anything you give is awesome. Thanks again for reading. I'm not begging, or trying to pull the wool over anyone, just being honest.

Keeping Track of History pt. 2

Faith.

   

Let me tell you about my first kiss.
I was young and ready to start junior high. Like any other boy at that age I thrived off of three things: sneaking into rated R movies, loathing my parents and an acute chesticular fascination -- or otherwise known as: boobs!. Being a young boy is never easy, and once you hit puberty it only gets worse. Around the time I had hit puberty two important things happened. First, I fell in love; secondly, I moved from California to Tennessee. I was in love with the girl that I had grown up with, Sarah. Sarah had candy brown hair, blue sapphire eyes like the ocean in disney movies and cute freckles that lined the bridge of her nose all the way down to her cheeks. I knew I was moving across the country and I had kept that from her for the longest time. I still wanted to believe that there was a chance for us -- oh the foolish things boys do.

It was the month before my departure when she told me that she liked me. My worse fear had materialized right in front of me - mutual affection. Quickly I admitted that I've had a crush on her ever since I've seen her. I've liked her before I was even able to develop feelings, you know, the kind of feelings that make you sick to your stomach but don't you out of school. I had been dreading this moment for months, the moment when I was going to have to tell her that I was moving and I won't ever be back again. Surprisingly she took it well, even better than I did. We continued to hang out and see each other in the remaining days I had left, just like it had always been. But then the day came, the day before I moved. I had previously asked her to meet me at the park, just the two of us. What better place to say goodbye than the place where we became friends.
It was dusk when we started the climb to the top of the jungle gym.
I wanted to be romantic, so with the sun shinning on my face I took off a silver ring on my finger that my mother had given me years prior. She opened up her palm immediately as if she had read my mind and smiled. I shook like a tree in the wind when I painfully dropped it in her hand. She tucked the ring away on her ring finger and held it up the light, investigating the how it felt on her hand. Then without hesitation she took off her bracelet, the black and clear one that she had always wore and she slipped it around my skinny wrist.
That bracelet was her favorite one and I had never before seen her with out it.

I stared at that bracelet.

I stared at it forever.

I could feel my face contorting. It began to disfigure into one massive puddle of a smile. The back of my neck stiffened, my jaw locked up and there were no windshield whippers on the inside of my glasses. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, but before the words left my lips she silenced me with a kiss. My neck became numb and my hands, like a mussel reflex, grabbed her waist. My eyes then closed like ziplock bags full of water. A bomb could have gone off and I wouldn't have moved an inch.
I was frozen, like a stone.

As she released my lips I sat there stunned. My face was wet, but not from my tears but from hers, and my hands clung onto hers for life.
She was my girl.
The sun was no longer in my eyes but now shinning all around her like a burning shadow. It was beginning to get dark, I knew there were words left to finish but I was lost.

"I'll be back"

Yeah I said that, but who wouldn't have given the circumstances. I'd like to believe that we'd all say that. We climbed down the jungle gym, she went left towards the night while I went right towards the horizon. I watched her walk away into the warm Californian night as I walked back to an empty house. That night I laid wide awake, dreaming about her in a sleeping bag on the floor in a room full of boxes. I had wished that I had told her that I loved her, but I never did and I never saw Sarah again.

So you may be asking, "What's with the mix?". Well, this mix is a sonic representation of the events that had transpired that day. They do not follow in any type of chronological pattern nor do they even encompass all that was felt, but they are grafted in a mannor so the listener/reader can gather some semblance of being there. There is more to the legacy of Sarah V, like as to the reason we never saw each other, because I did go back for her, but for now... this is it.










The songs in order are:

.Moneen. - Are We Really Happy With Who We Are? 
The Thermals - I Might Need You to Kill
Swim Deep - Honey
The National - I Need My Girl
Noah and the Whale - The First Days of Spring
Night Beds - 22
New Found Glory - Hold My Hand

The ring had just one word inscribed on it -- Faith.