The Friend Connection
February 20, 2008
January 29, 2008
Even if you wanted to you can't say no
The first time I heard The Helio Sequence it was in 2000 at a strange warehouse/arthouse. Originally, I went there because of an art/music event that was being hosted by a guy named Kevin Samsell, who in my small academic circle of writing-student friends was like a demi-god. Kevin was about 10 years our senior, but we worshipped his coolness... we were college kids in a small town, and the presence of this ultra-cool writer in Portland was one of the biggest things that happened to us in our college careers.
He reminded me of Mark Ruffalo in his voice and appearance. Well-connected in the literary world, he had his own small press (www.futuretensebooks.com), and worked in the best bookstore ever (www.powells.com). Kevin came to our creative writing class to share his insights on writing, but then afterwards a bunch of us went out for coffees and beers at the only restaurant in our small college town that stayed open past 8 p.m. I remember the way he poured non-dairy creamer out of its small plastic container, and was hypnotized by the swirling milky substance against the blackness of the coffee. But this is not about Kevin Sampsell, this is about my first encounter with The Helio Sequence.
Kevin was the host at the art/music event, and I'd heard about an awesome band that was going to play that night. Of course I had to go. There were mattresses hanging from the ceiling covering the large windows from the outside world. The huge room had finished wood floors, a small stage, and was lit with lights the color of Skittles. Unknown, yet talented, artists had their work on display throughout the warehouse -- there were sculptures and shrines with candles lying about, a light box installation, and oil paintings to be found everywhere. The mood was set even more by chain smoking chicks in vintage 40s dresses with matching hairdos and guys wearing black blazers over jeans and cowboy boots. This was probably the first "hip" thing I did in Portland, so when I heard of this band of two guys playing on just a drum set and guitar along with a laptop computer it was something I couldn't miss.
Then, they played.
The room filled with sound. It was as though we were encapsulated in a blanket of gorgeous sound -- reverberating, melodious, delicious, sweet sound that filled your heart with all the joy it could hold. Seriously.
Benjamin banged away at the drums like they were a crazy, graceful extension of his body. His arms flew up to cascade down in staccato movements. His head rocked and rolled, his mouth was widened, and his eyes shut as though all of this motion was some kind of a deep contemplation. Watching him play the drums was like watching someone in one of their most sweet, intimate moments.
Brandon spun waves of sound through guitar reverberations. His voice -- channeling the likes of John Lennon -- a poetry tuned to our indie rock affinities. He pulsed, almost too erotically, with his guitar... I think I felt conflictingly attracted and uncomfortable -- a sign of a successful musical performance because I couldn't keep my eyes off of him.
From that moment on I never missed a single Helio Sequence Portland show. And at shows over the years they would tease the crowds with debuts of new songs to appear on upcoming albums, and upon the release of each of their albums, it was like I was hearing that incredible blanket of sound for the very first time, again. And the same is true for their 2008 release, "Keep Your Eyes Open."
Having pre-ordered the album, I wasn't sure if it was going to get to me by mail on the actual day it was released! But here it is.
I have a quiet giddiness as I open up the envelope from Sub Pop. I know what listening to The Helio Sequence does to me. Inside is a beautiful soft-covered, matte, paper case wrapped in cellophane -- the cover design a black background with the image of hands opened up to release eight blue birds with large wings casting shadows against the illuminated hands. I unwrap the cellophane from the case, put the cd in, and immediately feel the sweet and familiar sound that takes hold of me. It is as though they have just unwrapped me. Again.
www.subpop.com/artists/the_helio_sequence
January 25, 2008
January 15, 2008
January 14, 2008
January 11, 2008
Me das lo que me faltaba
"You give me that which I have been missing" is my rough translation for the title of this entry. It is a line from one of my favorite songs, "Complemento," by Los Aterciopelados, a band that I've been in love with since I heard "Luz Azul."
I was completely blown away by their March 30th 2007 show at Barcelona in Sunnyvale, where they gave an awesome performance in one of the smaller venues I've been too. I couldn't have asked for more: a small venue with an internationally recognized band that would go on to win a Latin Grammy for the Best Alternative Album, "Oye," in November 2007.
Hyper-aware of this rare opportunity to hear their music live, I was especially surprised to find myself among the crowd at the front of the stage and engulfed in this musical experience. I have frequently found the interaction between rock groups and their audiences quite an impersonal exchange. This was absolutely the opposite with Los Aterciopelados. Andrea Echeverri and Hector Buitrago looked into the faces and eyes of their audience inviting us to enjoy the complete experience of being there with them. Those moments that Andrea, Hector, and the accompanying musicians Urian Sarmiento (percussion), Camilo Velasquez (guitar), and Mauricio Montenegro (drums) created with the individuals in the audience, by something as simple as eye contact, smiles, and nods are what made the show absolutely mind blowing.
At the end of the show, they passed out little ceramic ears to people in the audience after they said a special prayer to close the show and give thanks to Pachamama (Mother Earth) and everyone who participated in the evening's performance. The ceramic ear that was given to me continues to remind me of those connections that were made that night and that Los Aterciopelados had given me something that I been missing.
