Tag: Nostos Nic

Mount Moriah Tells Time

Mount Moriah courtesy of Merge Records

The new album by Durham, North Carolina’s Mount Moriah has rightfully garnered attention from industry standards NPR, Stereogum, and Pitchfork, but also from musicians-in-arms the likes of the Indigo Girls, Bon Iver, and John Darnielle of label-mates The Mountain Goats.

It seems that Miracle Temple shies away from little, evidenced by the burning barn on the album cover. The potency of Mount Moriah’s lyrics coat the listener like molasses, an effect amplified by the drawn-out tempo of tracks like “Miracle Temple Holiness” and “Telling the Hour” (my personal favorite). With this album, Heather McEntire, Jenks Miller and Casey Toll assisted by James Wallace question the centrifugal forces so common to our existence and so abundant in the “New South”. Crafted with confidence, it is a telling portrait of a band ascending into maturity, of artists choosing their paths and not merely meandering–the perfect second LP.

So settle in, “Oh be still, oh be quiet. Let the sun fade into night,” and give Miracle Temple a thorough listen. It’s deserving.

Nostos Nic On Location

While at Outside Lands, I was approached by a lovely woman named Mai, camera in hand. She kindly complimented my outfit and then took some photos whilst inquiring into my fashion inspirations. I babbled out a few lines, which she recorded, and the interaction wrapped with her business card in my hand.

Nostos Nic at Outside Lands taken by Mai of Fashionist.

Mai is a busy lady who documents street fashion. Her site Fashionist has been capturing the scene from coast to coast since 2007, and if you go to it, scroll down to the entry for August 26th and you’ll find a Nostos Nic quote, some additional pictures to the above and some very kind words from a dedicated blogger who is an absolute gem for linking to Nostos Algos. Thank you, Mai: I hope this returns the favor!

P/S: As part of the interview, I should have credited the elder women in my life–particularly my dearly departed Grandmother for all her fashion advice and know-how, passed down literally and figuratively. The shirt in which I was photographed was hers, and the belt my mother’s.

Current Obsession: Ray LaMontagne

I am not proud of the incident that first turned me onto Ray LaMontagne. It was my birthday, a handful of years now behind me, at Spec’s bar in North Beach. I was well on my way to an alternate reality when two little Yippies approached my Fella in a sort of coy, sidestep motion. They giggled, stared at one another, looked into their beers and then one of them asked, “Is your name Ray?” It isn’t, but this truth would never be sufficiently communicated to two youngsters psyched to see a celebrity. The bolder one took another stab at it: “Are you sure?”

At this point I assured them his name was not Ray. Could this have been done more gently? Probably. Did I immediately go home and Google “Ray LaMontagne”? You bet I did. Turns out, the Dude I Date bears a slight resemblance to Mr. LaMontagne, particularly in a dimly lit bar. This realization cheapened the satisfaction of my birthday snub, since what I thought was a crude ploy to undermine me was, in actuality, just two young girls genuinely excited to meet a musician.

While I’m not proud of the way he entered my life, I am quite content with his current role within it. Lately, his role is prominent for the minstrel has a song to fit any mood. His catalog features no miss: Till The Sun Turns Black, Trouble, Gossip In The Grain and my current obsession, God Willin’ & The Creek Don’t Rise, are all thoughtfully developed and satiating. Listening to the title track from that album you can almost hear the Appalachian soil give beneath his feet as they pivot and strain from the force of performance. Which is to say this music is the perfect synthesis of the American myth; it’s small town chatter and howling at the moon. This realm of limitless possibility under an endless western sky, however, is tempered by LaMontagne’s visceral sadness. He is a pessimist who speaks of loss with a husky sincerity in “Empty”, and of love with an other-era soul in “You Are The Best Thing.” This is the broad spectrum of human emotion flowing effortlessly from one man.

Honestly, what else does one need?

 

 

The Pixel Painter: Hal Lasko

<p><a href=”http://vimeo.com/70748579″>The Pixel Painter</a> from <a href=”http://vimeo.com/user19668988″>The Pixel Painter</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

I love America (to be differentiated from ‘Merica), but we as Americans suffer from a lack of reverence for our elderly. Perhaps my job as an archivist has skewed my awareness towards the importance of listening and remembering, to acknowledging the feat of having lived, loved and lost, and continued. Perhaps it’s because I can no longer speak with my own grandparents, but this video of Hal Lasko spoke to me. Alright, I admit it, this video made me cry from it’s sheer beauty: the beauty of perseverance, a dedication to the grasping of Joy while  one still can in whatever form one can.

This man is the embodiment of the American spirit. To purchase a print of one of his pixel works, go to his WEBSITE.

Outside Lands 2013: A Remembrance

Double Exposed Gull, Main Stage
Double Exposed Gull, Main Stage taken by Nicole Meldahl

Living two blocks from Golden Gate Park, Outside Lands is well within the perimeters of my urban backyard. This was initially why I started attending the festival a few years ago, but now I go to escape the Normal. This is partially achieved by the way I revert to a gushy teen while watching acts for which my hipster-ass thinks it’s too cool (Red Hot Chili Peppers). The other part of the equation is they way OL transforms the Park into a carny fairytale filled with fine food and trees that are alive with color, as if their moods were on display in the night.

Outside Lands Tree Magic
Outside Lands Tree Magic taken by Nicole Meldahl

These moods were infectious, and the spirit of camaraderie and goodwill amongst the crowd was palpable. Heterosexual men approached my fella to compliment him on his majestic beard and give him free beer. We won free food, and happened upon a giant pouch of medical (yet illicit) substances on the ground. Old friends were found, and new friends were made with people and bands alike. My inner teenager was able to see Camper Van Beethoven, and I fell madly in love with Gary Clark Jr–our generation’s equivalent to Jimmy Hendrix.

Gary Clark, Jr. taken through binoculars.
Gary Clark, Jr. Taken Through Binoculars by Nicole Meldahl

When the tally was made the sum became a conglomeration of moments that will never be forgotten. This is what makes the price for entry worthwhile, the sticker shock recede. For a brief three days we were persons outside of ourselves: two souls wandering turf that many men and women had trod before, imprinting the land with another notch in a timeline that will carry on beyond our own. This fact was made clear to me while watching Paul McCartney–a piece of living history. His three-hour set included every song I NEEDED to hear, was peppered with deeply moving stories about John Lennon and George Harrison (Ringo got no play), and included fireworks. Positively breathtaking.

Red Hot Chili Peppers Close Out
Red Hot Chili Peppers Close Out taken by Nicole Meldahl

Thank you, Outside Lands. See you in 2014.

Outside Lands 2013

Here, my good people, are a few selections of the best offered at Outside Lands this weekend. Please note the presence of Paul McCartney. Paul. Freakin’. McCartney.

Enjoy the tunes even if you’re locked out of the park, and if you’re going: be safe, be respectful of those around you (I’m speaking to you, drunk guy smoking cigarettes in the crowd–stage center), and let’s all have a good time!

Throwback Thursday: Mazzy Star

In honor of the news that they will release their first album since 1996 this September, Throwback Thursday is devoted to Mazzy Star. I hopped onto the Mazzy Star train in college when I became obsessed with their 1993 album So Tonight That I Might See. To be clear, I was not in college in 1993 (I was in third grade), but the 90s will forever by my good times decade. That CD, yes physical CD appropriately playing through my 1990s boom box, was spinning constantly, and “Fade Into You” was often on repeat to what I can only imagine to be my neighbors’ chagrin. Much angsty late-teen, early-twenties poetry was written by the light of that album. That song was the band’s chart-topper, and has been used in a surprisingly diverse array of terrible films and generic television shows: everything from Starship Troopers to Burlesque “starring” Christina Aguilera and Cher, CSI: Miami (in four different episodes) to Desperate Housewives. Despite these unfortunate appropriations, the song remains a mainstay–a strong as its debut, carrying the weight of coffee shop culture from the 90s into the new millennium. Here’s hoping nostalgia doesn’t preclude me from hopping on the 2013 Mazzy Star train as it comes through the station.

Escondido by way of Nashville

Having partially been raised in San Diego, I was immediately intrigued by a band named Escondido. Turns out they’re from Nashville, Tennessee, a fact that is imminently evident after listening to the album The Ghost of Escondido for mere minutes. The Nashville swagger is in full force with Jessica Maros and Tyler James, whose music pairs Mazzy Star smoothness with that Jenny Lewis je ne sais quoi. Escondido just recently finished the summer festival circuit in support of Lord Huron, with a smattering of smaller venues in the likes of Missouri and Illinois. If you weren’t able to catch any of those shows, why don’t you buy their debut album–definitely worth the purchase price.

Current Obsession: Anais Mitchell

My obsession this week, Anais Mitchell, is redolent with reference so let’s get some things out of the way here. Mitchell’s father, Don Mitchell, authored the 1970s psych-paperback Thumb Tripping which was heralded as “the new novel that says all there is to say about the Marijuana Society.” Don named his daughter Anais, for Anais Nin–best remembered as an evocative diarist whose brief affair with Henry Miller is the stuff of literary dreams, and less well known as a major influence in my collegiate early-twenties existence. This already looks promising, doesn’t it?

Beginning in 2006, songs came forth from Anais Mitchell that fully formed as a folk opera titled Hadestown based on the mythical tale of Orpheus. Teaming up with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, indie icon Ani DiFranco, and A Prairie Home Companion alum Greg Brown, the tale of Orpheus becomes accessible through song much like Shakespeare was more easily understood from the lips of Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes under direction of Baz Luhrmann. As a whole, this 2010 album is mesmerizing: enthralling in its epic proportions (to use the term “epic” correctly, for a change). Yet, individual songs are able to stand alone on their own merit and are equally enjoyable in their solitude–songs such as the soothing introductory track, “Wedding Song” (which pairs Mitchell with Vernon), and the knee-slappin’ hullabaloo of “Way Down Hadestwon” (which features DiFranco). My favorite singular, however, is “Why We Build The Wall” with Brown as Hades. Brown’s voice is simply unforgettable in its theatricality and paired with Mitchell’s Depression-Era aura this song takes on greater import as a discussion of poverty and privilege that finds relevance in a discussion of any epoch but is certainly present-prescient.

Mitchell’s other music is equally well-written, and steeped in American hunger. Her albums The Brightness and Young Man In America are easy to drink in, down to every last drop–that voice driving you to drink in all the more. This is a woman to take note of, so raise your pen and find paper.