Slow Burn

Multiple shows in the states have come and gone in the recent leg of the Gotye world tour. Some have occurred in historical spaces, others in small and aurally attenuated boxes doing minimal justice to the finely crafted sounds presented. Such seems the nature of art in motion.
Some listeners apparently came for a single song, reminiscent of the somewhat disappointing diaspora post-hit at Coachella earlier this year. Other listeners were dubious at first but soon awoke to the musical mastery of the performance. Still others, like myself and my 'colleagues in commitment,' came to absorb the raw interpretations of the music we have come to adore amongst our all-time favorites.
From whimsy to romance to blunted anguish and back, the set sweeps across a gamut of all-too recognizable emotion. There's nothing especially spectacular about the show-not in the giant martini olive ethos of U2 a'la Pop Mart tour and the like. Yes there are clever and engaging visuals, and the occasional (and joyful) frenetics of the band as they bound about the stage to shift from one instrument to the next. But the performance feels more parsimonious and soft, like the hypnotic nature of the music itself. Even the most uppity and energized songs take on an entirely gentle and lovable tone, prompting one to enjoy the music without a sense of reckless abandon. It's as though Wally and co. are engaging the listener in a conversation-about self-doubt, self-reflection and profound self-awareness. It may not be a set conducive to the antics of tossed beach balls and the Depeche Mode-Rose Bowl en masse arm wave, but it enchants and enrapts and leaves the listener feeling entirely satisfied.

But enough of my ranting-have some others' instead. They are apparently 'professionals' of that field. Enjoy!

http://heisthewallrus.com/

Photo: C. De Neve











~~~Cheerio!~~~

c. Paige 2012

Walking In Your Shoes

This is the 100th post of this blog....months of musings and deconstructions inspired by the art and apparent ubiquity of one man. Fascinating, really.

I recently returned from my first physical exploit into the inner orbit of the music and the maker. Until now my experience has been as a collaborator, supporter and occasional adviser through more remote means. Now I have crossed a threshold into a world that both fascinates and enervates with a shockingly simultaneous force. I purport to know nothing....believe me. I am still bewilderingly naive. It is a world of remarkable and daunting complexity.

  

There's probably ten million things I could say about the experience, hours of stories to weave and countless ways to fabricate them together to captivate and enthrall. But perhaps the most salient part of my little adventure was a glimpse into the raw demand of artistry and fame. There is little glory at midnight, post-show, malingering about the craftworks table and deconstructing all the ways in which great performance expectations can go to shithouse because of inclement weather,  lofty altitude and myriad technical hiccups. But none of that is seen by the fans, the great 'professional' appreciators. It all looks like shimmer and dazzle from the stands. I can say now that the view from the stage is much more coarse and complicated.




Let's face it-it is relatively easy to exist in the minimally hazardous space of 'fandom.' Yes, it comes with a unique set of issues, but from a wider lens, said issues are generally easily resolved. From the perspective of an appreciator, the art seems effortless. Like a nimble dancer in motion, every move we witness seems as second nature to the performer. It seems to numb us to the reality of the inner work done by the artist to regale us with their apparent brilliance.
I have come to see through that wider lens, and in a tiny way through that which is the view of our favorite musical master. He belabors his craft, to share with us some aspect of his fundamental humanity. In return we laud him and place upon his all-too mortal and fragile shoulders the expectation that his music could perhaps deliver us from our pains, our trials, our stressors and banalities. Is it an inordinate expectation? I don't know, and I'll not assume to possess the wisdom to judge that. It is what it is, and I willingly own my role in that reality.

I am grateful to see the glory from its greyer shades, and to be privy to the numerous challenges heaped upon the process of touring one's trade across a giddy globe. I only tasted it for 48 fleeting hours and found myself spent and even a bit saddened, to be candid. I can see now in some desultory fashion how grueling the process can be, and how remarkably resilient the performer is in his willingness to soldier on in the name of music. That alone is powerful and poignant.

Now for a time I return to the space of a fan and supporter, and with fresh eyes and new considerations. I hope that my education is only beginning, I am an eager but self-aware pupil. I am green and wide-eyed and readying myself to explore these worlds with 'eyes wide open.'

There is more to be done, and another grueling yet appreciated agenda soon arriving, but I am confident that I can manage my existence within this space with greater love for the artist and my fellow fans. Sometimes we must witness the world through others' eyes so that we can better view with clarity through our own.

Perhaps, in some way, this is only a beginning to the story.....

~~~~Much love to you all and to my dear 'fremd'~~~~

c. Paige 2012

Why I Love This Gig

This is the 99th post of this blog, and in celebration of the utter brilliance and comic quality of my fellow Wall-Nuts, I dedicate this post to just a recent sampling of the simply hilarious comments they make on a daily basis. They have left me in some of the finest laughter-induced tears of my lifetime. I could never go back and archive all of them, and frankly everyone has at least once said something that made me laugh to the point of silent gasps. These comments will be especially hilarious as they are utterly out of context and I seem to think that makes them all the funnier. 

 -I heard it getting my herrs did.

-any time Cris says anything even mildly suggestive 

  -a few days after I bought making mirrors, I spent several evenings singing along in the bathroom, pretending it’s my recording studio.

 -It smells like wine and old women

 -He intimidates me a wee bit in this picture, and I like it. ;)

- I imagined him as my "sexual education" teacher

- I don't need a recipe. I just need a willing partner

-50 shades of cray

 -hey, I think there's enough space in the bed for the nuts :D

 -*snort*

  -have Wallffles give it a good wing slap

-Gahan Face

-My husband said that I was subordinated from You

 -Enjoy your wee adventure

 -"él es un bomboncito"

 -he's holding himself... cause even he knows he's so darn snuggle-icious!

 -he has birdy legs

 -the nuts' have a mass-funeral when we all shuffle-off the mortal coil. Waldo sings "Thanks For Your Time" with rude language interlude and all, and we hold it under a giant circus tent. We shall be interred in huge record sleeves and dressed in our finest formal Faux Pas tee shirts and skinny jeans.

 -Shmenuendos

 -I. DIDN'T.EAT.THIS.DAMNED.COC

ONUT.FUDGE

 -Oddly enough I was walking through the men's underwear section at the time. So I did have to stay there longer than I needed to.

 There are soooo many more I wish I could go back and find, but this may offer some idea of just how delightful these folks can be!  It's amazing. 

Much love to all of you, and all fans of our shared "Muppet from the neck uppet (that one was mine :} )

 -P

 

Lifting Off

It's Friday, earliest morning hours in Melbourne, Australia....1:45am. The sky is quiet.

It is also a day to be filled with frenetics and business and preparations for a sweep across a giddy globe, regaling countless hearts and minds with stories that they have come from far and wide to hear. The troubadours labor long and hard to reach us in their weary travels.

 I myself embark on a parallel journey soon, one which supplants my daily life for a time. One which is the current high watermark of a path I began walking months ago. It seems like years. So many things can puzzle themselves together to form a picture one never expected when they only saw the fragments in front of them at the hapless beginnings.
I feel the gentle pull of a thread now-tied to my heart-it holds tension and leads me forward from time-to-time. As the coming days pass, the thread will pull harder and more often, until I find myself drawn forth to the origin. Once there, I cannot say what my heart will feel, perhaps a sense of quiet calm-that the string drew me to a place where I....belong? Perhaps it will burst. Only in the moment will I be capable of touching the feeling entirely. Until then I hold my hand to my chest on occasion, and feel the tempered tug.

 We all begin to prepare for the journey, as those who will join it at certain intervals across the world. It may seem an entirely quotidian event, a simple night of musical meanderings. For many of us it is a moment to interface with one of our clearest inspirations.
Some have been driven to great works in response to those of our 'favorite boy.' That is a power not to be minimized. A great force of brilliance and fortitude is required to suss out the silent voices of our genuine nature, be they musical, visual, verbose, physical or emotional. We all carry tiny creatures in our hearts that lie dormant until something truly moving causes them to stir and burst forward. At first their liberation is painful, but when they reach their purpose, all comes full circle and clear as crystal.

But let us not forget the spiraling journey of our source of inspiration as we embark on our own travels. Let us not forget the rigours and challenges and joys and constraints of his appointments with the world. Let us respect his space and his own heart as it sends sparks into the air. It is a gift he gives us; to bother bringing that across oceans and mountains to share so joyously.

Be moved by the music, and be moved most of all to move yourself in response, whatever that may mean for you. And when the moment is over, return to the house to gather and tell your stories, to share your own sparks with one another.
Through those tales will live a legacy that we may all recall when our time in this grander journey of life comes to an end. Those are the things that live on past our mutable mortal selves.

And think on the years yet to come, when we will return to these journeys, we and our favorite boy, and we will rejoice once again together. May there be many of them still to come, and even grander!

In thankful excitement for all!



~~~c.Paige 2012

On the Legend's Ledge

Tonight's thoughts warrant some musical introduction-the clip below may help it sink a little deeper, I hope. This song embedded itself in my brain during the usual flow of conversation on our facebook page. The central concept of the potential 'end of innocence' is where something deeper started in my thoughts.
 
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLONgF8a_Ig&feature=g-hist

The idea fleshed out over a latte and ridiculous french chocolate mousse dessert at the local late-night cafe, in the company of my sweet other half who munched pear, walnut (appropriate) and goat cheese bruschetta (and is known for a shared affinity for Wally's music.)

What happens when someone stands at the precipice of a future yet unknown-one which could make them a legend that lives immortally amongst those artists in our history who created canonical work? The U2's, Beatles, Madonnas of the music world? The legend's ledge, you might say?
What does it feel like, to stand at the anxious edge of that cliff, yet unsure what shall come if one's fate is to step over the edge and dive into the ocean? Is there fear or joy in that space? Is there even an awareness by the maker that they stand in that moment, at the brink? What if we have already witnessed the high watermark of Wally's career, and he slinks back into the role of a 'one hit' musician? Which path would be the more pleasant for the artist? For the fans? I know what many have expressed as their preference.

After initially mulling this over, I returned to the recent ABC1 interview (thanks to sister fans from regions with rapid access) wherein Wally talks about the detached feelings about his hit song, as well as how his life has changed, sometimes in overwhelming fashion. Arguably, the path has been especially steep for near a year now, and perhaps even as far back as his emergence as a musical force in AUS with the hit "Heart's A Mess."

Fewer than two weeks from today, Wally and co. embark on the largest tour they've ever produced via his Gotye moniker. Four months of immersion in the work of years prior will be displayed across the world, to ever larger and more hungry throngs of listeners.

What does this shift mean for the 'fans,' do we stand behind him equally liable to tumble over the cliff as he does? Who will fall into the waters behind him? Will we sink or swim? Will he?

Will we be little grey geriatrics reminiscing on the days when we watched a legend being born to a bright and treacherous world? Will we recount the glories and hazards our 'favourite boy' survived, becoming the vocal strains of a generation? What does it mean....how does it mean.....to be immortal? Has Wally already sealed himself as such in some way, with the force of one herculean hit? Will he become a perennial presence for the next couple decades, as some of our most recognized artisans, with a string of reliable works that speak with similar force to their predecessors?

Are we witnessing the birth of a musical mythos that will have been part of the essential soundtrack of our lives? Will we gather one day-those of us left-and mourn his passing, as have so many before us, on the final breaths of our musical master? Will Wally leave this place, as we all must eventually, having changed the world? I certainly think so. Then again I am biased, and willing, nay, happy to admit it!

Is this the end of innocence for our beloved musician? Is it the end of a life more ordinary, more calm, more private and peaceful? Could it be the end of the open-hearted artist we've come to respect, in may ways for his genuine tone and apparent immunity to fame? If his tone changed it would only seen rational, with greater access comes greater oppression, comes greater need to protect ones self.

On the shoulders of giants, do we lose our innocent perspective from the days when we stood solid on the ground?

I suppose I ask more questions than I seek to respond to. I am unable to do so-I know that. I haven't the barometer. I am still down here on the ground, looking up at the giants and occasionally tapping their toes, asking how the weather is all the way up there in the clouds.

~~~ c. Paige 2012


***thanks nut Cynthia for locating the above brilliant pic!