Okkervil River

There's something about seeing bands from Austin play up here in Idaho that makes me very happy and also profoundly homesick. The Gourds? Sure, that's obvious. There are strong connections to my life in Texas and, really, to my development as a human being that go along with seeing that band play. But Okkervil River? I've seen them a handful of times, I've got a couple of their records, and while I do like them quite a bit, I wouldn't consider myself attached to them or their music in any meaningful way.

Still, seeing them this past Saturday night at the Neurolux had a strange effect on me. They put on an outstanding show, full of their hallmark energy and abandon and yelling, and the respectable-sized crowd responded with enthusiasm, staying with the band even through the quieter moments of their loud-quiet-loud roller coaster ride. They were into it. So were we.

The strange thing is how familiar it all sounded. I mean, I'm familiar with their work, but I mean this in a larger sense. Back when I wrote for the Austin Chronicle I interviewed Will Sheff for a SXSW edition of the paper. When I asked him about whether moving to Austin has made a difference to the music he makes, he replied that he'd be making the same music no matter where he lived. I was surprised at this then, and I think I attributed it more to him not wanting to credit the scene more than he or his band's inherent creativity. In hindsight, I think I was at least partly correct. There is something Austin about that band, something buried deep that surfaces as part of the murky characteristics of Mood or Tone or Aesthetic or something indefinable like that. It's in the way the keyboards and the lap steel fit together, or in the way the rest of the bandmembers sing all the songs whether they have mics or not, or in the narrative quality of the lyrics or the sense of unrehearsed style they all had. Note: This is a good thing. It is a measure not only of style but of quality.

And stranger than this recognition of roots or pedigree was the effect it had. When the show was over, I was sad. Not in the sense of not wanting a good thing to end, but in the sense of leaving a place that I love. Oddly enough I don't really even get this feeling from seeing the Gourds play. Maybe I'm too close to their music. Seeing Okkervil River was less a big event than just a good show, more a feeling of being transported to Austin to see any one of hundreds of bands that would give me this same feeling. When it ended, I was only beginning to recognize it. Then it was too late.

I don't know what this all means. Just another layer on my already complex and freaky relationship with Austin, TX, I suppose.

Dramatics aside, the show really was very good. If you get a chance to see these guys, take it. Whenever you have songs this good, a band this solid, and a level of passionate engagement this high, it's not something to be passed on lightly.

I'm Too Much

Trouble

Only about 6 weeks back in the country after a wonderful trip abroad and already I'm reading through the travel blog every day.

I find it's getting harder and harder to stay content. I love where I live, I like my job more than I've liked most jobs, and all parts of life seem to have fallen into their proper places. But, still, the restlessness prevails, the wanderlust seeps into the front of my mind, and I find myself checking air fares and weather in far off places and just constantly wishing I were somewhere else.

Travel is good like that. It gets in your nose and your bones and creates a permanent place in the mind, a room off a main hall that you pass by often, where you can poke your head in and see how things are going and look back at trips gone by. But this, this is something else. It's distracting and troubling, a feeling that sends small tremors through the beams and mortar of everyday life.

On our last trip, I approached the day to day with the idea of just pretending I lived in a place. In Paris, or in Amsterdam, in this case. It was wonderful, a whole different style and pace of traveling, and I enjoyed it so much that I think I took it too much to heart. Now I actually do want to live there. Somewhere. And it seems so plausible. That's the trouble.

Wedding Bell Rung

The weekend is over. My little brother is married.

It was a hell of a time, starting with family arriving all last week, a bachelor party on Thursday, and the wedding weekend up in Stanley. Lots to report, from seeing family and friends to riding the totally burnt out Fisher Creek trail, but it'll have to wait. I'm now buried at work and have yet to get my head back together from the damage of all the festivities.

Brother married.

Fisher Creek scorched.
















Family gone now.

More later.

Fall

I rode to work this morning in the dark, accompanied by the familiar wet and cold of autumn. It's tougher to get out of bed in the morning, too. That happens when it's dark and chilly and I know I have to get on my bike and ride to work.

Fall must be here.

Though the official opening of the season is now a couple weeks behind us, and though it's already been dark during my morning commute ever since we got back from vacation, this morning is the first that's really felt like fall. I broke out the raincoat and the fleece gloves and even wore a hat under my helmet for the ride in. And just as I was dealing with the too-familiar dread of getting out in it first thing in the morning, I came around to the very familiar realization that it's not really as bad as it seems.

This change in seasons will bring about the obligatory re-ordering of life and all the re-commitment that goes with it, but this time it'll be a bit different. I'm committing to a training and fitness regimen for the fall and winter that will include a membership at the Y. I've never joined a gym before, so this will be some sort of experiment, but I've decided to engage in another training program for next year, and my winter training will rely less on actual road miles and more on a structured system including riding, spin classes, weights, maybe swimming, and most definitely a regular program of cross country and skate skiing.

In other big news, I drilled some holes into my house and shop yesterday, which allowed me to lead an actual cable from the router inside to my computer in my office, which means that at long last, for the first time since moving in, I've got reliable high-speed internet access in my office. This should change everything. And, to add to the excitement, when we make the move to re-do our bedroom and upstairs bathroom, we're going to include a small piece of money for renovations to the shop building. This way I can get a wall and some climate control without having to rig it all myself with second grade materials. Very exciting.

The lean-in to every new season causes this sort of shuffling and stocktaking in me, and I'm really excited about it this time around.