February 7, 2013
Blonde Redhead's "Bipolar" Shuffles on. Before the song really gets going I recognize it by its initial drumstick clicks. How are we able to do that? identify a recording merely by an opening percussive tchk or three? I'm certain that I could correctly identify, within a click or two, any song in my large mp3 library that has a drumstick start. What a miracle of memory and perception! when the silence changes, and the click rends it, and within such a small caesura, we anticipate a whole song. When did we all start dying?
November 21, 2012
driving with JH,
probably toward that house she shared with Meister and Mo, Insley was it?
driving on that street in the teens – 'stop for me, it's the claw' –
just this side of that main Sellwood drag,
on whether there is a cello in the mix.
It's a very precise memory
triggered by this song
every time I hear it.
February 4, 2013
Unwound is rescuing itself from the crevice between the Web and before-the-Web: http://unwoundarchive.com. Rabbit holes of memory, subterranean lockers of memory. How did we miss each other that night? How did I miss that show? Where was I? I learn that Vern's daughter is named Lola. It's the kind of coincidence that abets our urge to narrativize, to see a loom and threads, or to presume that generations cohere, that the ghosts have sound reasons for their returns.
"Hanging still like a bell / silent until it strikes against itself / I can always tell when someone's gonna go / I can hear the wind before the vacuum's formed / blowing around outside itself" —Come, Bell