Being Drawn In

Interesting fact: Not everyone in the world speaks English. That may actually be unironic news to some Americans since there is very little practical use for a foreign language in parts of the United States (aka “our little universe,”) and there is vast popular culture and news media (one in the same), enough to satisfy one’s interests. I can certainly say, though, that there is much more to learn, understand and enjoy about other cultures and languages, opening new dimensions to your own perceptions about the world. It is very much worth it to branch out linguistically. (Not to be a jerk, but one could even put some effort into really learning their own native language. I didn’t really learn English until I started trying to learn another language. The drawback being now I cringe a lot more.) Learning a language is hard work for most of us, so hard that it may not be enough just to study grammar rules, memorize vocabs (vocabulary words) and strain to comprehend idioms. (Fess up English, you’ve got some weird ones too.) Usually it just doesn’t stick; you never stop feeling like an idiot when you try to say anything beyond the skill of a native three year old. Something more has to draw you in and motivate you, like some intriguing cultural history or music.

You could get really drawn into and excited about a foreign language based on the culture, but conversely you could also form an aversion to a language based on your ambivalence or antipathy to some part of a society. In high school, which is commonly the first opportunity a publicly educated student will have to electively/voluntarily learn a foreign language, the selection is typically limited to either Spanish, French or German. Personally, I had grown up with a bit of an aversion to Spanish, I thought French sounded dumb, and I might have passed on all foreign languages, but in my senior year I started to get really interested in German since some relatives/teachers I admired were enthused about it. I don’t remember what I knew about Germany and German before that, but I was immediately hooked, especially when I got to meet a group of high school students from Germany visiting our class. Soon after high school I got to study it even more, to spend an extended residence in Germany, and upon returning to the U.S. I eventually completed a degree in German, all along the way drawing in more reinforcing interests to help me learn.

Since that time I have dabbled in learning other languages, and thanks to my first round with German I have a better sense of actually how to learn languages. Without going into the techniques, of course the point I’m making now is that the real catalyst is having a driving motivation, and usually for me the draw comes from music. Part of what caught my interest for German back in the 80’s was Xmal Deutschland, Propaganda, Trio and Falco. I got really interested in Icelandic when I started to hear native records from The Sugarcubes (Sykurmolarnir). At some point I started to think French sounded pretty cool with Les Rita Mitsouko, Mylène Farmer, Air, M83 and Charlotte Gainsbourg. I had many opportunities to learn Spanish growing up but something about the culture (or my ex-wife) really put on the brakes. Even that curse was dispelled when I heard Rebekah Del Rio in “Mulholland Drive,” Shakira’s “Loba” domesticada and Juana Molina. Whatever your muse, let it carry you through the toil of vocabs and idioms.

Coachella Logistics

Reaching Coachella weekend mid-April means a lot to me: getting past the dark, dreary Winter and connecting with the sunny warm festival world again. The live streams from sweltering Deep Desert, California help me feel it might be safe to crawl out of my alpaca underthermals and that I should empathize with all the brave beset concert-goers suffering sunburn and dusty dehydration. I dream of attending in person again, but I end up thinking about what a pain it would be to pay, travel, traffic-jam, camp, and be stuck out in the vast, barren polo fields over several days with a quarter of a million other humans rather than just flannel pajamas streaming it. I can comprehend how it’s worth a fair amount of grief as an attendee for the experience, but what is it like for the performers? How on earth does Goldenvoice pull off such a huge project? I presume each of the acts are basically already on tour and they have their own set of roadies, transport/party vans. But with ~160 acts over the two weekends, how do the bands lock into the logistics months ahead and is there a glut of hundreds of tour trucks and buses on the I-10 from LA? Do the bands make a profit or to they take a loss for the exposure? Do they have to actually pay to play? Are any acts banned from Coachella? Like Cage the Elephant 2014, clearly tripping mental balls. Continue reading

I Used To Be A Bad Girl

Ceylon coconut milk curry goes down easy, but it leaps like a fiery tiger at the back of your throat. I met a Sri Lankan family, likely applying for political asylum, as I was working the projects in rural West Germany. Dinner with them was surprisingly perilous; I was attacked by a sleeper cell of capsaicin. In recent history, Sri Lanka was like a Northern Ireland to the mainland of India, with the defiant Tamil Tigers behaving badly. The artist known as MIA is not shy about her Tamil heritage. “I got the bombs to make you blow.” Part of the 2009 Coachella broadcast was MIA’s trashy but mesmerizing rhythm with droning vuvuzelas, but when I read up on her background I worried just for hitting Wikipedia I was flagged on a terrorist watchlist. Continue reading

So I Like Goldfrapp

I should be ashamed. Goldfrapp is a silly name and Alison is a known nutjob among extroverted train wrecks. I can relate pretty well, so that explains why I really enjoy singing along to “fascist, baby, utopia” from “Felt Mountain”. That is a weird album among trippy electronic records from the turn-of-the-millenium. She’s credited as the multi-talented instrumentalist whistler and warbler, accompanied by rusty furnace motor and accordion with peanut butter jammed keys. Since we’ve agreed to abandon rational production concepts this is actually really catchy and I compulsively play this on my upstairs neighbor thumping stereo all the time. I’m ashamed after seeing “Hard Candy” with Ellen Page (the title teenager in “Juno”) who lured a nice, decent predator into thinking she liked Goldfrapp too, then strapped him down, iced his oysters to numb the pain of impending orchiectomy, and crushed him with the truth that she HATED Goldfrapp. Continue reading

Hablamos Tu Idioma

As I watch myself in third person I connect the dots in my chaos. I really enjoy writing, but it doesn’t happen until my mind is clear and I feel free to express myself, like it’s a privilege I earn. First I have to put in a good day at work and then get out to stretch my legs. The irony’s not lost that I’ve got it backwards; I contribute to society to clear my conscience to indulge in writing. Like a sleuth I’m piecing together evidence for residence in the padded room with bars slitting the sunlight. I’m pretty thrilled to finally get the little box from Amazon today for some new records. Never mind that the free shipping means they pack it on a donkey that treks the long way around the world to get to me. I’m confounded that I should wait two weeks for the physical media to get to me when I could fall back in with good old instant gratification from bittorrent. Continue reading