"Sufism" via Google Images
Yesterday I came to the conclusion that this blog has absolutely no impact on anyone but myself. When I write, I wonder if others will read it. I began to think that if no one does, I would actually be glad because it gives me the liberty to write my heart out without having to censor myself to not offend (which is the case with my Twitter, the way I self-monitor myself has grown tiresome) because I believe it takes away the rawness I feel the need to express.
Yesterday, I also promised that I would try to post more often. It took about 24 hours for the mystical being to present me with the perfect situation to do so. As I stated in my last post, I've had a ridiculously beautiful couple of months enthralling myself in music by Voxtrot. I also did a terrible job at attempting to explain why it is that I've had this borderline obsession. The truth, I have absolutely no idea but somehow it feels right. I open up my iTunes and Voxtrot is the first thing I click on. Then I click on the repeat button. The repeat button is still on. However, I think I sent the wrong message so I would like to state that I do not, in any way, believe Voxtrot to be the musical superlative. I love all types of music (of course I do, commence the eyes-rolling) and, if forced to choose, Silvio Rodriguez will always be the ultimate musician in my opinion. When I write the following post, I am in no way placing Voxtrot in a Beatles-esque category (I think even they would agree). I also do not expect the reader to understand or agree. However, at this particular point in my life, Ramesh's lyrics have struck a ridiculously important chord and have been the best form of therapy for this most painful existentialist inter-conflict I've experienced to date. The lyrics are not particularly prophetic in any general sense, but rather, placed in context, have been increasingly prolific in my life. Sometimes the clairvoyance of the lyrics is due to the ingenious (and often random) word play or clever allusions to time and place. Other times, it's the adorably soothing voice in which the lyrics are sung or the way the melody begins to build up promising to bring even more brilliance. Most of the time, however, the attraction simply comes from listening to someone who is going (or has gone) through the exact same thing you are going through presently. There is a certain level of comfort you get from a beautiful stranger singing to you just when you are just about ready to break down during the walk to class. Ramesh/Voxtrot has been that comforting stranger lately.
So why is this relevant today in particular, as opposed to the last couple of months or to tomorrow? Today, out of all days, I wake up to this, a beautiful note explaining the reasons why (I will post the entire note below) Voxtrot will be no more. Now, I call myself a writer (how dare I ?!) but there are no real words to describe the feeling I had while reading it. You see, as an avid reader of Ramesh's blog posts, along with the obvious musical Sabbatical taken by the entity know as Voxtrot, I knew this day was fast-approaching. This realization did not detract from the je ne sais quois-esque feeling I got this morning. Of course, the feeling lingered throughout the entire day and I could not help but feel like a silly little girl for letting it affect me this much. However, it has; it is. My desire is to write them a personal letter; I wish I could sit down with Ramesh and let him know that I absolutely agree with this decision; I am certain in my heart that it is for the best. As he expresses in blog posts, as well as the farewell note, there comes a point in time where regressing for the sake of 'success' 'relevance' or any of the factors that have, in the past, made brilliant people regress, is preposterous. The newness he speaks of, I dare say, should also be converged with ingenuity. There is no point in ever producing fake bullshit (well, maybe in college) because literally all of the most revolutionary stuff we have--be it literature or technology--come from genuine, innovative risk-taking souls who refused give in to the expectations. It would be completely unfair for us to make them, Ramesh in particular, lend their name to material they are not absolutely proud of. Additionally, sometimes the fear we give too much energy to, is actually a manifestation of something greater; giving into that fear is actually necessary. I am shattered that there will be no new songs to look forward to, but I look at it this way: like I said before, the reason I find these songs so particularly revealing at this point in my life is because of the context--the situation I find myself in. It just so happens that I find myself completely infatuated with the situations, ideas, words, descriptions, etc that are expressed in these songs. Will this always be the case? I doubt it. One day I will find myself in a completely difference stage in life where these lyrics and these songs will not play as important of a role. At this point in time, I cannot conceive the notion of this happening, but it will. However, I am absolutely sure that I will always hold them in high regards. In addition, as Ramesh states in his farewell note, the songs are a " sovereign entity" that will always be. That, within itself, is comfort enough.
I would love the opportunity to comment on many aspects of the farewell note, however, today is not a good day. I know if I do, it would result in massive word vomit. Rather, I would like to state that, in addition to the solace received by the permanence of the songs, I was incredibly pleased to find out that a mini farewell tour will be happening. Even crazier, I actually already bought a ticket to one of the seven shows (this is when I thank God I live close to a big city!). I am not usually such an obsessive or impulsive person. In fact, this type of obsession is normally kind of a turn off to me. Additionally, by writing in such a 'fanatical' and impulsive way, I fear digging myself into a massive 'fan' pigeon-hole where, if given the chance to meet again, the guys would see me as nothing more than the fan (no mutual relationship can ever be established between two parties if one is perceived as significantly better). However, this time it felt right. I am looking forward to the show very much. I secretly hope that the guys will be plastered drunk and that the show will be terrible but enjoyable. Why? Well, okay, if I want to listen to a song in its perfection, I can just click play on iTunes. What I want is a memorable, fun, raw, genuinely good performance. I've already met the guys so that's definitely not on my to-do list, but I would like to say: Ramesh, it would be a pleasure to have a conversation with you one day. I've reread the "First, There is a Mountain" post about a million times, the one where you went to Monterrey. I keep thinking about that line "We depend on the kindness of strangers." I have characterized my entire life around this concept; ever since I was a child I have thought exactly this. No one knows the future but the expatriate plans I have of vagabonding my way around the world, have made me so conscious of exactly this. I believe this to be an essential part of my life. It's a two-way street, I try to offer my kindness to others; to me, this is the only way to live. Thank you, stranger. I do hope we can one day go for coffee somewhere , enthrall ourselves in great conversation and just smile the entire time because everything the other person says we reply with an "exactly!" I have a question for you: do you think they'll ever understand? I ask myself this question every single day. I guess I realized today that it really doesn't matter. There is actually a certain beauty in them not understanding. And all the frustration? I would take it over not understanding, any day, I'd like to think that it's all worth it.
Okay, second part of my interesting day. I'll make it short. About half a year ago, I was talking to my boss and somehow the topic of our favorite books came up. I began talking about the book that changed my life as a sophomore in high school, Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha. She became very interested and asked if she could borrow my copy. I have an extremely torn-up old copy that I love. Of course, I wanted to share the wisdom of this short novel so I let her borrow it. Time passed and I actually forgot she still had my copy. Today, she comes into my office and hands me a brand new copy. She says that she wanted to give me the new copy as a thank you for everything. I began to cry and told her about the morning I had with the whole Voxtrot thing (okay, I know, now you think I'm exaggerating) and she was so understanding. I'd like to thank the Universe for combining these two seemingly insignificant events (Voxtrot and Siddhartha) because it just reminds me that there is something out there, there is a reason for all these random events. I will now open to a random page in Siddhartha and see what it the Universe wants to tell me: "Writing is good, thinking is better. Cleverness is good, patience is better" (pg 65).
Voxtrot "Trepanation Party" *
-melidee
June 2007-please ignore how hideous I look.
The farewell note via :
Warning: This is a very long note, but then again, everything I write is very long.
Recently, a friend in Glasgow asked me to submit a few paragraphs for a piece he was putting together, regarding the end of Optimo (Espacio). Part of my submission reads as follows:
"Optimo is a reminder of the value of a shock to the system. Give yourself over to something foreign without fear or hesitation, and the creative manifestations in your own art will be remarkable. "
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The career path of Voxtrot was truly one of long, simmering build, explosion, and almost instantaneous decay. Slowly, I am learning to replace any feelings of regret with positive memories of how amazing the whole thing was, and how it has, in an unexpected way, fortified my character.
Making great art requires one to be fearless, and sometimes I've given too much energy to fear. Whenever I read an interview in which a band
claims they are going to return to the sound of their earlier, more popular work, a small part of me aches for them. It doesn't work like that-the popularity of the earlier work is based upon the sense of newness felt by the musicians at the time of creation. So, how to get back the newness…?
Approximately eight months ago, I spoke to my friend Simon and indicated that I was ready to give up on music, or at least leave it for the indefinite future, but he reminded me that you can't dedicate yourself to another job or a degree, or some other distraction just because you've got nothing else going-if you have the feeling that you were born to do something, you've got to follow that feeling.
As he told me, "Do it because you love music. Do it with passion."
And so I did what I had to do. I swallowed my pride and got two jobs, one of which involved clearing the dishes of the filthy-and-not-so-pleasant-rich, and while this sudden change in lifestyle was not altogether ideal, I was constantly aware that I was building towards something.
For me, the most important thing in life is leaving behind something beautiful, something that finds its way into the lives of strangers, and forever alters them in a positive manner. Sometimes, being able to do this means that you have to work the shitty job and serve bread to rich idiots, but whatever, it's better than just cashing in your chips and spending the rest of your life wondering, "what if…?"
In the end, I've come to realize that there really isn't any cause for disappointment. The fact is, the songs still exist, and the music of Voxtrot lives on as a sovereign entity which, outside of all criticism, positive or negative, belongs to the guys and me, and to everybody who ever loved it or believed. Taking into account every person I've met, every place I have visited, every emotional exchange I have ever had with a listener, there is absolutely no room for regret.
In fact, the other day, I was thinking about it in the shower and decided that my situation was analogous to Peter Falk's glass eye. You probably don't know this, but I am a massive fan of Columbo-it is the only detective show in which there is no mystery, thus the entire reason you watch it is because you just love him (Falk) so much. It is a true testament to the power of a strong character. Anyway, when Peter Falk was five years old, one of his eyes had to be removed, due to a malignant tumor. Obviously, this is bad, BUT, had it not happened, he would never have developed his signature stare, which, let's face it, accounts for at least a small percentage of his overall appeal. Whatever I create from this point on, I will only create because of everything, good or bad, that has happened thus far.
Being in Voxtrot has been wonderful and amazing, but it is only one chapter in the book...
When I was in high school, I was a great fan of the Scottish band, Travis, and I have always harbored a secret desire to meet the band's frontman, Fran Healy. Not so long ago, at my friend Lucy's studio in Berlin, I had the fortunate experience of doing just this. He was buying a painting of hers, and we spent about three hours conversing. Eventually, our conversation drifted towards the ebb and flow of our respective careers, as well as the anger that comes with not knowing how to pull oneself out of a creative rut. Obviously, our two careers have been on different scales, but nonetheless, the associated concepts are universal. At the end of the conversation, he said to me, "You can't to keep writing the same song. You have to throw away the map. AND you have to keep creating, even if it goes nowhere for a while, you have to always keep creating… and it'll be great."
And he's right. I must leave again-take a risk, do something radical, but in order to do that, I need closure. This is not to say that Voxtrot will never play again, and certainly, if Voxtrot has never been to your country (or continent) we are open to ideas, but for all intents and purposes, this series of live shows will be the last.
Part of doing something with love is being able to say "goodbye" at the right time. Thank you for everything. On to the next one...
Love,
Ramesh
