Woolly Audio

Lughnasa                                                            Lughnasa Moon

Got home tonight after listening to Woolly Mammoths play their current audio favs. Looked up in the night sky, around Cassiopeia to the north, and saw a satellite tracking fast against the Milky Way. A moment of foreground/background confusion. Here I am on earth, up there, in space is a human made object. Here. There. Sort of like anticipating the move. Here. There.

(most likely this one, Envisat, a defunct European Space Agency Earth observatory)

Mark Odegard asked us to bring material we’ve been listening to recently. Frank Broderick played Rodrigo (a classical guitar composition), the last movement of Tchaikovsky’s 6th and a recorded version of him singing a Kris Kristofferson song. This was for Mary in case he died during surgery.

Bill Schmidt had a clip from Krista Tippet interviewing Paul Cohelo and a track of Dave Brubeck. Stefan played an Indian music selection and two videos produced and sung by his son Taylor. Warren had Leo Kottke and Flogging Molly, an Irish punk band. Scott played the first movement of Appalachian Spring. Tom played Izzy, the Hawai’ian singer, and Kathleen Madigan. I didn’t catch Mark’s selection, but it was moody guitar music.

(Flogging Molly)

I played Dylan singing It Ain’t Me Babe and Willie Nelson, My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys. Packing music.

Fall Is In The Air

Lughnasa                                                              Lughnasa Moon

There is, among us and within us, a current that pulls toward deep water, toward a cold darkness. It takes the warmer waters of our surface interactions and draws them down into the crevasses of our psyche. There the surface loses its bounce, its vitality and becomes absorbed.

We often make the mistake of assuming that this current’s engine lies within our experience and our personality, in that highly fungible interface between who we believe ourselves to be and the swirling mass of life outside us. But for most the powerful motive force which takes us into the bleakness is both more and less personal.

It is more personal because its constituents are in the stuff which make us, our DNA. It is less personal for the same reason, it is pre-psychological, implanted not in our character but in our chemistry. Yet, it manifests itself, or at least brings its influence to bear through psychology, through the mood shifts and terrible ideas that flash up from below, rising like leviathans.