During a New York Times interview for an audio series on New York City raconteurs, the interviewer asked me who my peers are, and as I was rattling off the list of my typical dudes, a glaring theme began deciphering itself to me for the first time: though my friends may be as varied as anyone’s – painters, architects, teachers, designers, lawyers – they’re nearly all involved with the making of music in some small way, as am I. So, duh, this might seem so obvious I should’ve picked up on it from the get go, but the thing is, I do my best at avoiding facing music head on at all costs. I try monitoring it sideways with my periphery, keeping it at an arm‘s length. Kind of a don’t ask don’t tell policy between it and me. Like the sun, though reading it through its reflection off the moon might not seem like the most direct source of info, if you look dead on in going straight for the goods it’ll be the last thing you’ll ever see. The New York Times never called me back and never ran the interview. I think this is where I blew it. This is to say that music is second bliss or near, but definitely not first, for all the people I move about easily with.
In a self-flagelling way, I suppose that it did get me here so I shouldn‘t be so wary, but I never would have made it if I was an all out junkie keeping it in first. No, I’ve been on the William S. Boroughs diet with it, an on again off again for eternal youth that’s rendered me seasoned enough to know that regardless of what I proclaim or protest. I can never be off off off (which is to say in permanent second position) with it. In fact, I’m writing this in the wake of a Van Pelt practice for a reunion show at SXSW 12 years after we broke up. Initially excited to revisit the rockin’ songs that should have had the right amount of ignorance in them to get me where I need to be (with it in second place), I find myself instead moping down the street thinking about our song “Let’s Make A List” wherein nothing ever happens and when it gets to the chorus, even less happens. I am destroyed and wallowing in it, wanting yet not hurrying to put music back where it belongs so I can move on and maybe even dance tonight.
Maybe, I'll salt the Soup.
(For full essay visit "Artists on the Verge" at chrisleolive.blogspot.com)
Van Pelt- Let's Make a List- from album Sultans of Sentiment[alt link]
Van Pelt- His Saxaphone is my Guitar- from album Stealing from Our Favourite Thieves
The Swirlies- Sarah Sitting- from album What to do About Them
My Bloody Valentine- Cigarette in your Bed- from album You Made me Realise Ep
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