Tuesday, July 31, 2012

"Quest for Transcendence"

“Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment." -Rumi

~~~
what more need be said than what is said by the artist themselves. From ABC1 interview aired 7/31/12:

http://mpegmedia.abc.net.au/news/730/video/201207/web_Wally_3107_512k.mp4

Or the more advanced and non-native English speaker/hard of hearing friendlier option:

 http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2012/s3557760.htm


Below, have some lovely tid bits from Stark Raving Productions, behind the scenes at STIUTK:


Enjoy!
X-Paige























Saturday, July 28, 2012

Take A Bow

Before we dive into more pseudo-intellectual discourse, here's a few recent finds by one of my admins on our FB page, and an original nut. She spent some time in strep-throat convalescence hunting the channels for yet unseen treats:

http://www.buzzinemusic.com/reviews/music-review-gotye-kimbra-satellite-10202011
http://brennerliana.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/gotye.html
http://www.thevine.com.au/music/single-reviews/number-ones-gotye-ft-kimbra-somebody-that-i-used-to-know/

Thanks Danae! You're a champ!

~~~

All right, now that you've been fed to satiety with imagery and such, let's get into it for this weekend's installment of what nut Kate coined "50 Shades of Cray," or as I call it, the nuts being 'academic' for a few damn moments (adore you all, as always.)

My Saturdays are generally wedged with tasks related to our lovely and very active community. However, as a means of self-care, I decided to slow down on the grid and indulge in some guilty-pleasure time, otherwise known as two hours of Depeche Mode live in Barcelona, circa 2009 (youtube it!) Brilliant show, indeed, and something of particular note came to me during the absorption of said audio-visual menagerie.
It's clear from the moments when members of the legendary group (specifically front-man Dave Gahan and the brains behind the operation/lead guitarist Martin Gore) give the audience the chorus to belt at top volume, they are processing the enormity of the moment. Tens-of-thousands of listeners fill the venue to the brim, and sing with all their musical might. The band members can be seen closing their eyes, imbibing the immense sound of so many voices so deeply touched by their art. At one moment, after the choir of fans finishes an especially empowered ensemble, Gahan can be seen clasping hands in prayer and looking upward, as if to offer his gratitude. Now you might be scoffing, chuffing away that said gentleman is known-nay infamous-for his self-indulgent behaviors and bombastic hedonism. You're right, he was a daft prat at times. On more than one occasion he squandered the gifts. I'll also gently remind that the life of a 'star' is both bright and burning hot, and can scald and damage the artist.

Where was I now? Right....thankfulness.

It's easy to be limited by the tunnel-vision of individualism and the miniscule lens through which we see from day-to-day. It's moments when one mind, especially one so revered by so many, takes a moment to recall the power they hold that something lovely happens. When an idol steps down from their tower and reaches hand towards the congregation, they return to their humanity. They remember, and in turn they remind, that they are built of the same flesh and blood as we. I believe there's great importance in that. It may be the single most profound stabilizer between artist and votary.

Now you're wondering when I'll make this relevant to our particular muse. Hold on, I'm getting us there.

You see, I will admit that when I first established this now burgeoning community, I was a tad embittered by the loneliness of being 'so into' something. I had nowhere to safely speak of the music and the process and the dynamics that had utterly captured my imagination.

Perhaps also deeply vexing was the reality that I hungered to connect with the maker of the art. So much so that I worried I was overly fixated with that apparent internal directive. 'Why did it matter that I got a damn email back from him? He's a busy man, I'm one person, why should he care?'

Now I know why I cared, why I felt so driven to even a brief moment to interface with my musical maker. I cared for the same reason musicians stand in front of thousands of people like me and stop to look to the sky and stand in the moment. I cared for the same reason the artist themselves care; the abiding drive of human connection to the profound. It's a spiritual, physical, mental and emotional bridge, and crossing it is stunning and transcendent. It is one of the reasons the artist does what they do, and why we commit to that work with such fidelity.

Since those first weeks-when this space was all I had, the only safe place I could go to express the feelings evinced by the bridge that was building in my mind, I have come to see the reality of an artist connecting with his followers, his fans. His heart is open and gracious, perhaps to his eventual hazard. I am overcome to feel the warmth he has shared, with me and others. He keeps his head turned to the skies, ever grateful to be a voice speaking for the silenced, and most of all, himself. He owns his power with great dignity and grace, and he shares it with those who bask in the glow. Now that a bridge stands crossing the chasm between myself and my dear music man, I am also forever thankful. Truly....forever thankful. My hands and eyes are raised. 

With a full heart and careful words, Thank You to my fellow members of this community, and to all fans who share their insights openly. And of course, Thank You Wally, I'll see you soon. 



~~~

c. Paige 2012









Tuesday, July 24, 2012

In the Attic

“It’s about combining a story with sound; taking you to a different place.” -Wally

 “In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.”
― Rumi

Tonight I feel the urge to own the inner recesses of myself and share them with my fellow fans. I've been moved to move myself, by music and camaraderie-even by the occasional discord. One lesson I have learned and been reminded of time-and-time-again is to be genuine in my expression of myself and to remember that there are probably many who feel as I do. Sometimes a sense of shame impedes that, but I believe the words that come to us in our most quiet moments are our deepest truths. So, if you feel as I do, let us feel this together.
















May I call you a friend? Perhaps not such a word....not yet. What shall I call you, then-dear soul that has spoken to my own? And with such kindness and insight. What shall I call you?

Your words, your sounds, they reside inside my mind. That is axiom now, I cannot unfeel what has been felt. I cannot turn my heart from your art. Not now-now that part of me has been recreated with your seal set upon that heart of mine.

Somehow I know your music will be one of my greatest loves-and you, in some fashion, a beloved. From now until my last muted breath I will carry you within me somewhere. You'll see the world through my eyes when you wish it, and you'll slink backward to silence when you must. But you shall always live there.

In "the attic in my mind," dearest friend, your laughter will echo through the rafters and the sound of you singing will ring in my ears.  
You will remain as you are now, so lovely, so bewildering, so conflicted...forever joyful, forever creating, forever young. Forever loved by many...forever loved.

~~~

c. Paige 2012




Thursday, July 19, 2012

Over The Rainbow

Imagine if a profound segment of the world was watching you, through the sometimes intrusive lenses that are so readily available in this age. Imagine if the image you saw in the mirror was the topic of hundreds, even thousands of conversations across the globe. Does your one mirror shatter off into a million, reflecting you back in deconstructed segments?
Most of us never have to entertain such a concept-why would we be a source of idolatry? From the morning paper and coffee to the end of our quotidian work day, nothing generally occurs that sends us shooting into public consciousness. We have neither need nor call to examine a life outside of the relative privacy and anonymity most of us retain. How could such a life seem anything but glowing and enviable?

But what reality rests at the other end of the spectrum-the pole past our nine-to-five conveniences?

I am certain that I have rambled on these matters before, in some fashion. Yet they still plink about in my brain like a tiny pinball. Is the life of the entertainer really so empowering? Or does it effect the opposite-does is perhaps stifle and silence the deepest and most genuine humanity of the artist? We spend so much time belaboring our own voices as the flock, what of the voice of the shepherd?

Is it only through the music he can truly speak anymore? I just don't know....we don't know. There's so many sounds hovering in the air, sometimes such a din that one has to step away and reconsider their own role, their own voice-and whether or not they are capable of hearing everything and everyone or if they must fashion some space, for the sake of self and others.

Do you have space, our dear artist? Do you have silence when you need it, or is the noise always looping and crackling like an old record in your mind? Was it always there, or only since you became adored? If so, my deep apologies, I am complicit in your suffering. I only meant to show you that you reached me.
That is all any of us meant. We stand in your service, yet do we even begin to do right by you? I promise that we try...and sometimes we fail.  We labor on, either way, in hopes to learn something, I suppose....most likely about ourselves.

Self-awareness is difficult enough in the most normative circumstances. What happens to it when surrounded by both laudatory messages and occasional disdain? Does the external overrun the ever-poignant internal? Or does one go about their lives with little alteration or adaptation? Does your self become lost in the translation? I know mine does, from time-to-time, then I am required to find myself again, get right, and move forward.

I can only speak for myself in exploring these thoughts. I know I do often, as I balance the world of 'fandom' with the tactile reality in which I exist outside of it. Perhaps this explains why I can't get a Kate Bush song out of my head lately.....always running up the hill in my mind, and occasionally wishing I could successfully run up the hill for someone else for a moment.

c.P 2012
photos: Flickr-Gotye

Monday, July 16, 2012

The Field

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
 and rightdoing there is a field.
 I will meet you there.


When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”


~ Rumi

























It's amazing what, when and how something simple can bring minds and hearts together. It's all the more a fascination when those minds are seemingly worlds apart, by many meanings. It begs the question-is there such a thing as 'meant to,' or some force of predestination? I've never myself been one to hang my hat on destiny's hook, but on occasion something occurs that briefly suspends my skepticism.

I suppose it's why I love the poet above, he reaches me from an ancient orbit and speaks to the parts that seem to hunger for some sense that a path and place lies before me, and on it certain people who are meant to take my hand along the journey in some fashion. Or perhaps I am meant to take theirs. Perhaps the pupil becomes the pedagogue.On my current leg of the pathway, my hand is suddenly, gently reached for by another, one that once seemed ethereal, but as it lightly grasps mine, feels entirely warm with tender humanity. The path alights with new features, yet I am not shaken by them. I am merely heartened and curious.

In this field in which we meet quite often, the world indeed becomes so full it is nearly impossible to encompass it with any explanations. Art needs not be justified with rationalization, science, or other rendition. It is made of the soul's sounds, the heart's refrain, the mind's lullaby. It is justified by everything and nothing.

Perhaps that is part and parcel of those things which are so lovely they cannot ever be spoke of with sufficient depiction. Often the very creator of the work cannot entirely explain its birth. Perhaps that is an essential facet of those works that touch so deeply-they are both immutable and iconoclastic. They shatter the conventions and burst through the gates to reveal new territories. Once their claim is staked upon the landscape, they forever change the geography. New life springs forth from their consequence.

My hope is that in this field-this new territory-each one of us finds fresh air and inspiration, whatever form it may take. In each one of us resides the potential to engender great art.

If you'll meet me in the field-outside of ideas of pragmatism, shame, expectation, oppression-we will find ourselves and each other in ways we cannot alone. Will you let your soul lie down for a moment?




~~~


c. P 2012









Friday, July 13, 2012

A Complex Culture

What is the genuine definition of culture? Does it require the convergence of all forms of art and expression within a community? Can it be distilled down to one facet of the artistic force that drives a group?

The deeper we delve into a world that swirls, sometimes frenetically, around a single art form, we find it becomes a native definition of our sense of self and others. We initially gather a feeling of fragile pride about our emerging culture, which later begins to morph into a durable attachment to and defense of the art.

Just as with any gathering of human minds and hearts, there are the occasional conflicts and musunderstandings. Other times we all surround the fire and dance in unison...for there can be no such revelry without the music that moves us.

We-as all who define ourselves within the community-are joined together under the force of one message and one messenger, along with his own eco system of equally integral music makers.  It becomes a part of our individual narrative, thus becoming part of our personal culture. Certainly all of us carry several cultural identities, some are evident and others more insular, but all are of equal importance to the story of our selves.

What are your cultural identities? In what ways do you define them? 
Does your love of the music hold a place in that deeply personal space? What about it makes it part of who you are?


Those can be difficult yet incredibly empowering questions to explore withon one's self. Sometimes we find a deep, abiding need to bulwark those things we have reconciled into our personal story. Not every soul in our circles will understand or support what we hold dear. Some may even try to destroy it.

That is all part of the hunger, the drive to seek spaces where others exist who have created the culture around one shared love or one mission. Sometimes we cleanly integrate into the community, other times we must labor our way in. Either way, once we find that space, we find great personal and collective power. There are struggles as well....nothing in the affairs of human kind is free of troubles.

Perhaps it seems lofty to intimate that the work of one artisan can become an genuine culture. Human history would seem to suggest it is entirely possible, and has occured throughout our combined narrative. In modern context, culture moves swiftly through wires and sattelites and signals. Some cultural contexts start to bleed over into other spaces, some remain confined to a comparatively small community.

Whether ot not it seems reasonable to say that the dedication to one specific creation qualifies as a culture, I suspect those who ascribe to it would defend that evaluation. Within this micro, mostly digitalized community, we share stories, works of art, thoughts, feelings, and even the occasional constructive discord. All of these are the facets of a culture, whatever the population density may be. We each have an individual story and name, we may carry other monikers to define wherein we entered the society, but ultimately we are all members of the ecology, the cultural community. What a brillaint and complex reality that can be!

~~c. P 2012

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

The Music and the Mind

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ij5sKrHRlN8&feature=related
The above link is the opening scene from a personal favorite of my own-and purportedly Wally as well. "High Fidelity" is a film about music, a man, and the insides of his noisy mind.

The music and apparent misery have become especially noted with the astronomical success of the hit single "Somebody That I Used to Know." So ubiquitous have the imagery and sounds become that they have ostensibly crept into even the most vague references. The term "cultural icon" has been thrown towards the song and subsequent clip on multiple instances. One of my fan-colleagues located a particular piece that attributes the stylings of a recent Aussie mental health awareness campaign to the wildly popular music video:

 http://www.thevine.com.au/life/art/did-gotye-inspire-a-mental-illness-campaign

Although at first glance the images of the campaign are markedly similar, they seem less like a sharp facsimile and more like a slight nod to Oz's recent "icon," at the most.

This notion of a connection between emotional and mental states and music is nothing novel. The above Youtube clip hails from the film adaptation of a novel of the same title by the brilliant Nick Hornby. The tale of Rob is a simple recounting of the inner turmoil of a thirty-something indy record shop owner whose entire self concept is founded upon Pretenders singles.

There's a unique conduit that exists between music and the mind, whether it be the cogitations of the creator or the neural feedbacks of the listener. It's no mystery that many therapeutic modalities integrate both the consumption and production of music as a means to restoring or maintaining well-being. But what came first, the music or the mentality? Are the messages we intake from our beloved artists imbuing us with some refractory emotional state that then becomes enslaving. As Wally notes himself in the song, "You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness."


So is it therapeutic to immerse ourselves in music that registers deep misery when we ourselves are in the midst of some emotionally rocking experience of sadness? Does listening to angry death metal give an outlet for pent-up rage? Can a song that is joyful and sunny lift us from apathy or aching?

From my perspective-that of a provider of mental health care, it is true that the most effective and enduring healing often comes from a sense of connection. That connection may to be someone or something, or both. In any case, a feeling that one is not isolated in their challenges is powerfully transcendent, and capable of breaching the highest barriers.


Music provides a deep, durable and robust sense of connection. Be it lyric or melody or rhythmn or the confluence of all variables, music speaks to the most profound of human emotions. The attachments that are forged by the musician, their music and the minds that find it comforting are genuine and complex. It's no wonder that when a musician (like our own Mr. De Backer) produces something that breaks through the disjointed noise we all encounter day-by-pedestrian-day, that we find ourselves dedicated to it, sometimes in a seemingly effortless fashion. With music that speaks to our need for connection, we find both lofty healing and high fidelity.

 ~~c. P 2012

*Special thanks to Wall-nuts co-founder Cris for finding the above linked article and suggesting this exploration
**Apologies for the lack of embedding of the video-the embed code was too problematic.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Lyric

I could disappear
into the sounds
the deep beating of drums

Steals me, staggers me
sends me
seeking myself
in deep layers
of sequestered self-knowing

Nothing stands outside the sound
when I am tuned-in turned-on and dropped
out of my stupor

What a gift you wrap in reverberation!


c. P 2012

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Finding Your Voice

Some may swiftly dismiss the choice to own the label of 'fan.' Often times such a title is hocked with assumptions of obsession, fixation, lack of personal goals or even downright mental or emotional instability. I could go on for hours about how deep a miscalculation those assumptions are, but the likely reality is merely that those who claim to be passionate about nothing are probably just ashamed to own their passion openly.

I cannot convince you to take off the mask if you're terrified that I might look you in the eyes. 

Perhaps myself and my colleagues in 'fandom' adopt a risky social contract in our candor. I have, on some occasions, encountered significant oppression at the hands of those who decry being committed to an art. Others with similar admitted proclivities return my interest with validation. Rarely is the surface of the water still and uninterrupted.

Let's face it, nuts, the world is a deeply, hazardously disempowering space. From every angle we are shot with insidious messages to question our competence, to envy those who seem to have more than we, and to compete for a square foot of self-respect and privilege amongst a landscape of enforced contrition. You must shame yourself for your desires, your needs, your thoughts and feelings. You must shut your mouth lest you make folly of your self.

So we spend how many years of our lives in silence, or muffled whispers at best? We do as we are socially instructed-to stifle our need to scream out that we give a damn.

That makes me sad, I'll be honest. I grow increasingly weary of the rescission of our individuality and creativity. I have said it before, to play from the words of another beloved and long passed artist; I refuse to be created rather than creative. I will not recoil from the challenge of being genuine about those things into which I place great value. Perhaps it is an attempted act of unconditional self-love, although at times my fidelity to that self wavers.

I cannot promise to give you answers, or shield you from the slings and arrows that will be pitched at you by those who cannot or will not engage in perspective and self-examination. I often find I can barely offer myself solace. In the spirit of Voltaire I will, however, defend your right to use your voice whether or not I concur. Your mind is a vast space of unseen potential, may you never build walls around it. If you already have, I hope you'll find something that drives you to break them down to dust.

For any who may look upon our 'cause' and find it silly, useless or obsequious, I ask you this;

What is it that you are concealing in the name of shame?



c. P 2012

Modern Art

Recently we've reached an acute awareness of the attraction that an apparently brilliant pubic figure culls by virtue of their visible persona. At first the strains of that enthrallment generate from the art or work of the maker, not entirely by their image. However, with but a few comely features and a charming turn of phrase or two, the artist can become a work of art himself. 


In some fashions, Wally has seemed to embrace that shift-from musician to a statuesque source of aesthetic musings. There's a not insignificant precedent for our lovely Mr. De Backer to occasionally display himself with surprising candor. Perhaps one image from a 2008 promotion for his three-piece ensemble The Basics is one of the most choice and unabashed representations of his apparent comfort with his physical self.

And indeed there's nothing distasteful about it. In fact, the notion of the artfully contraposto stance coupled with winsome humor is remarkably imaginative and tasteful. There's no more offense to be taken from this image than from a Michelangelo. 

I wonder, though, about the occasional meanderings of Wally himself when he mentions that he prefers not to be the central tendency of an image or film clip. In one interview, he mentions the motives that broke that cycle and permitted the simple focus of the video for the now ubiquitous "Somebody" single, stating that the nature of the song seemed too raw and personal to not make an appearance. To do so naked seems rationally linked to the emotionally stripped message of the song. That sequence of determinations made perfect sense, but what of the occasional polemic regarding the desire to redirect attention away from himself?

It seems veritably impossible to escape the reality that with fame comes recognition, comes constant thirst and demand for imagery of the famous. It is requisite within existence within the public awareness, even if begrudgingly. So, by virtue of further disseminating fame, Wally is faced with the challenge of his face becoming a social standby. Furthermore, as he becomes more photographed and fetishized, he becomes more objectified and sexualized. Although clearly he himself has been indirectly implicit in that sexualization, it is also a feature of the geography of youthful talent and prominence.

The glut of modern celebrities has become especially dismissable of late. Many of the faces that splatter the media are generically pleasant and entirely unoffensive. Most don an almost preternatural similarity to one another, and bedeck themselves with excess and opulence.

Then suddenly the contemporary popular music forum is punctuated with a willowy, pale, somewhat waggish musician who is not particularly young or aged, is not husked up with excess masculinity, and dresses no more gauche than the local barista. His viridian eyes are glittering and joyful, dimples and wrinkles and smile lines streak across his face, his neck curves out like a great blue heron. His grin is dippy and comical yet instantaneously lovable, with slightly off-set and fangish teeth glinting forth. His soft locks sweep, sometimes hectically, across his prominent brow. He is, from some angles, wholly unremarkable and pedestrian. From close inspection, when one considers his quirky yet charming features, the conclusion is quickly made that he is strangely splendid. Taken in consideration with his wit, his words and his music, it's no great mystery that he has begun to carve out a space as a source of praise and even fantasy, in some circles.



It can be said that when someone uniquely, even aberrantly appealing becomes a source of powerful emotional and psychological magnetism, that they become a work of art themselves. They may take on a level of idolatry similar to the likes of The David-as a symbol of unattainable yet simultaneously genuine and simple beauty. Although his tendencies veer further away from a heroic or Grecian image as a David, in some ways, Wally's iconoclastic beauty cuts through the boredom of traditional standards of male attractiveness. Furthermore, the comeliness of his nature is borne as much from his intelligence, sweetness, wit and talent as his physical self. He is something of a rarity, indeed-a painfully parsimonious balance of inner and outer resplendence. It cannot be denied that it is a joy to engage with that profound and lovely presence. 



Now back to work! ;}

c. P 2012

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Debt or Dismissal?

"Do I owe the sometimes random people who have decided to pay money to invest in my music and come see a show? I don’t owe them anything up front to have a certain level of honesty. I’m just creating something that has an engagement factor for me, that I think is interesting, challenging and expresses something." 
 -De Backer, from an article through The Music Network approximately one year ago 
(http://www.themusicnetwork.com/music-features/artists/2011/08/15/gotye-neurotic-exotica/)
 ~~~
There's a certain intrinsic response to a statement of that nature, from the individuals who become subsumed into that label of 'random people.' When I first digested the above article I was inescapably vexed that the artist (who arguably would not himself be labeled with such a distinction without the recognition of others) would adopt an utterly dismissive tone regarding the ears that hear his message. It smacked of hubris, of some sense of insular narcissism. I bristled at the thought that I had myself invested now countless dollars on the work of a man who would treat that benefit so cavalier. 
 "God, what a bastard. Is that the guy I've been listening to, splitting my head open over?"
In retrospect, now being privileged with far more information and insight into the often prostrate reality of our beloved musician, I see in sharper relief the burdens that bare upon his shoulders. I wholly admit to being part of the weight of that encumbrance. That-in itself-is a curious and precarious balancing act, to be so 'blindly' supportive of someone's work and life, yet to do so through the narrowest perspective, through the tiny pinhole to which I am privy. Do I labor in futility, acting as part of the scaffold that braces and art and an artisan with whom I have barely any mutual familiarity? 
It's only by virtue of the ever-expanding community of fellow fans that I find some deeper value to the often isolated sense of being a 'random person.' When the herd is gathered, we seem less like singular social anomalies with an overly-intense proclivity towards noise.  One begins to see themselves as part of something greater and more profound....suddenly random people become a mass enough to fill every last seat in a stadium, and flood out into the streets. There's a sense of validation and permission and power that comes by the notion of alliance. Some artists seem to be acutely aware of that power when they present their work to the crowd. Others seem inconvenienced by it, as though they would rather sing into utter silence. I see both sides of that tension balancing themselves upon Wally's tufted head. Like the ancient Roman deity Janus, he is both blessed and burdened with the view of the past and the potential future. And as Janus, he bares awareness of both agony and joy. On occasion we witness one of those personas as dominant, other times the opposing tendency surfaces. Sometimes he speaks of elation and anticipation for the work ahead and the gleeful reception it will undoubtedly receive. Sometimes he grumbles about the reality in which he now exists. It is certainly no wonder that he displays this duality-anyone would. It is the nature of the emotions he must place on his work. We cannot expect him to be disaffected.

I would like to think there's some merit to being a leg under the stool, even when it creaks and rocks beneath the weight upon it. Sometimes I myself feel put-upon by my passion for the productions of the supposed 'master.' On occasion I bemoan my fidelity. When I feel slighted (or when I feel others for whom I care are apparently slighted) I grouse and fuss and emotionally storm off like an insolent child. Yet what offense has really been done to me? I've not been violated in any manner beyond the transgressions I have committed against myself by feeling entitled or ignorant. I am, in the end, just a 'random' person in the grander scope of view. What about that makes me impatient?
 I think back on a review of the album Stand Out/Fit In by Wally and company's yet under-appreciated 3-man production The Basics. A one Charlie Sutherland begins a reflection on the music and the makers:
"The struggle for one's identity has never been more fierce - every day and from every side we are confronted by messages designed to challenge what little certainty we have. Am I special? Should I be like everyone else? Is it okay to want to be more? We learn to be very careful about what we do and what we say, introspective to the last."
This notion shouts back to the statement made by Wally himself that those he served are 'random' people. In less frenetic times, he himself was party to the same sentiments of isolation, ingratitude and anonymity.  Now that the veil obscuring artistic recognition has been lifted, has he now lost sight of those youthful sentiments? Now that he stands above most of us, is he immune to the all-too-human struggle to feel valued? My own instinct is that he is in fact all the more fragile now that he is displayed like a Faberge egg to millions of awestruck eyes. The interference in his head has to be all the more deafening at times.
As fans, I think we have to engage in regular acts of guerilla self-awareness. Otherwise, we are liable to become problematic and thus begin to blend into the mess. If we are genuinely inspired by the work at hand, we must respond with socially responsible actions and connections. We must take the kindling from the fire and make our own little sources of heat and warmth, and most imperative, we must share that warmth with others. That way, not one of us must be left feeling like just some random, meaningless face in the crowd.

Nothing but love, Wally....you know that. But with adoration comes examination. :}

c. P 2012

 

Monday, July 2, 2012

No Life or Love Without Laughter

Once again the nut house reminds that without friendship and laughter, life would be a dull and abysmal process at best. One of the deepest joys of a shared source of inspiration is the revelry and humor that generate from that space. Sometimes it's irreverent and downright scandalous, sometimes it is loving and light. Either way, it is a powerful tool in uniting a community and creating common ground for members from many different cultural and personal narratives.
Not too much meandering for today. Just a thank you the man whose work and whimsy inspire such laughter. And a thank you to the wonderful Wall-Nut nation, one of my greatest joys of creation, for your wit, your brilliance and your banter. I am blessed to be "In Your Light." 

--P

Photo: C. Malinowski

A Thank You to HQ

Cheers to you, Gotye HQ and Wally....here's what we think of your good works (these will be an email for you soon as well.....doesn't that just make you feel fizzy!)

~~~

Dear Gotye HQ and All Members of Team Gotye who keep the humming machinery of all-things Gotye well-oiled and running for supporters worldwide:



On behalf of Gotye admirers, The Wall-Nuts in particular, I’d like to say that we truly value your constant support of, interaction with, and recognition of fans. Despite hectic moments (perhaps “overwhelming tidal waves of frenzied tweets, emails, messages, and perhaps cryptic notes produced by the occasional carrier pigeon” is a better description) and any technical snafus that have arisen, you’ve all handled everything with poise, professionalism, and attentiveness.  We are so impressed with how responsive you’ve been to what I’m sure is frenetic and frantic work!



Your exceptional work acting as liaison between the artist and his admirers is incredibly appreciated; we recognize the stress of your duties and are constantly amazed at your patience with our occasional overzealousness.



Finally, please know that it is with your assistance that many of us (whether part of the “Wall-Nut Nation” or “Gotyettes” or the various other entities drifting through the strains of music) have found one another and forged various fellowships.  These bonds are for what we are, perhaps, most grateful: you are all part of a Greater, Beautiful Thing that brings us all closer—just as Wally’s music does.



Very best wishes,
Cris
Co-founder
The Wall-Nuts 


Dear Gotye HQ:



Many thanks for all that you do.  Everyone is so friendly and helpful.  You are very much appreciated by this ‘nut.

Thank you!!

From: 
Denise, the Louisiana Wall-Nut

of the Wall-Nut Nation

and of course there's these gems....







c. Several of the Wall-Nuts: Cris, Denise, Paige, Jodie, Cynthia, Kimmy & Francesca