(no subject)

I had a strange dream in which a friend/acquaintance I've had for years was extracontextually putting the moves on me in thoughtful, considerate and surprisingly intimate way that reminded me of what I used to see in her, and gives me pause in waking life to reconsider the difference between what I see, what I've decided I see, and what might actually be there. There was something about a strange regional airport, overcast skies, house or houses I used to live in, a passing contextual reference about the present and permissions, and a lot of emotional content. It definitely had the feeling of a *something to pay attention to* kind of dream that I'm still trying to tease apart.

(no subject)

Forget everything you know or thing you know about this band and trust me for a little bit.

It was 1985, and it was the first university concert I went to see. The headliner was Husker Du, ostensibly the up and coming reigning gods of indie rock, generally given credit for bringing brains to speedmetal punk. I'd listened to one of their records and didn't quite get it, but thought maybe it was the question of studio versus live.

I'd never heard of the opening act, a typically scruffy quartet of guys named Soul Asylum. By the end of the first song, I knew they were the shit; by the end of the second, I knew I had to have their album; by the end of the fourth, I felt sorry for Husker Du that they had to follow them on stage, trying to reclaim an audience that was ostensibly meant to be theirs to start with.

Structurally, they were solid and tight; the invulnerable drum beat held it all together, despite competing swirling centripetal valences of chaos and breakdown from the guitars, the howling vocals, and the energy of performance, everyone playing full out to the limits of their abilities and beyond. Anger and frustration are punk rock staples, but smart compassion and seemed surprising, and then there were the vocals... Dave Pirner had the powerful, scratch voice that, combined with the prettiness he tried to hide behind the facade of unkepmt indifference, could have made him a rock god if he wanted it to, but it was the incredible harmonizing with Dan Murphy that stood out, made you realize that good music could be loud, fast, pissed off, and pretty at the same time. It wasn't until years later that I realized the goofball with the scary mustache rocking out at the side of the stage while they played was Grant Hart, the drummer for the headliner.

The very next day, I bought their first album, "Say What You Will... Anything Can Happen" (later reissued on cd as "Say What Your Will, Clarence... Karl Sold the Truck", and the first album I had on both vinyl and cd). I never did get Husker Du, and to this day still think Bob Mould is both terminally overrated and painfully stupid not to take advantage of the musical genius of Dave Barbe (of the mythic Mercyland) in Sugar.

Check out their first two albums, in particular, "Say What You Will..." and "Made to Be Broken", the latter of which in my mind is on par and comparable to the very first Drivin' and Cryin' record, "Scarred but Smarter" (which you should also listen to). As much as I love The Replacements (which is a whole lot), to me Soul Asylum is still the best band to come out of Minneapolis ever.