Lyrically Superior

13 08 2009

These Frail Hands

Brave Saint Saturn

“Antimeridian”

Written by Reese Roper

In this broken place where I was born
It seems there is no peace,
And the very soil that we walk upon
Is filled with tears that never cease,
And you can trace the scars of hopelessness
Like sweat upon the backs
Of all the outcast downtrodden,
Water slipped through cracks

Hold on,
Hold tight

And I am overwhelmed with grief,
to see such suffering,
For those who lack the voice to speak
For those of us left stuttering

May this not prevail,
Dear Lord, your love will never fail

And these frail hands,
They tremble as they pen perhaps their last
And these weak words,
Can never say what cannot be surpassed

When the concrete of the world
Becomes too cumbersome to lift,
And the cataracts of fear and doubt
Cloak truth beyond what we can sift
And darkness, darkness bleeds its way,
When crippling anguish clouds our sight,
The ghosts of dusk have bared their teeth,
Set their claws to bring the night

Hold on,
Hold tight

Darkness can’t perceive the light,
though lightlessness has chilled us numb,
And though its wings may cloud the skies,
The dark shall never overcome

Light of the world,
Your love, has never failed

And these frail hands,
They tremble as they pen perhaps their last
And these weak words,
Can never say what cannot be surpassed

I need your love,
And most of all I want to feel your peace,
I need your love,
Let everything that you are not decrease,

(Your love,
Your mercy,
Your light unending.
Your hope,
Your peace,
Your strength my heart is mending.)

(Daylight,
Save me)





Input

14 07 2009

In honor of Short Circuit, which Thatcher and I watched tonight, I’ll present a short list of what I’m listening to right now (not right now):

Andrew Osenga, Four Horses

Ben Folds, Best Imitation of Myself

Derek Webb, I Want a Broken Heart

Run DMC, Run’s House

Muse, Map of the Problematique






Hear, buds

27 01 2009
Seriously?

Seriously?

After having received Apple’s most basic ipod ever made for Christmas, I immediately proceeded to do two things:

1.  Prepare the most embarrassing playlist known to man.

2.  Get my headphones ready for use.

The first is because, thanks to the greatest innovation the Jobster never made, no one but you or someone you entrust your listening device to (that’s somwhere between 2nd and 3rd base in my book) can tell what music is on your ipod.  Thus, I can stock it full of horrifically nostalgic stuff (ELO, Kenny Loggins, Geoff Moore, Iona…) without fear of immediate reprisal.  If someone starts to get suspicious of my foot-tapping in Starbucks as I read some presidential biography, I can simply unplug my ‘buds and plead the 5th.  Especially if they look like they have money.

The second, which is the main reason I wanted to talk about this, is because the little rubber/plastic dongles mysteriously labeled ‘headphones’ are about as much fun to use as someone else’s retainer.  Even knowing this, I still decided to try them out the other day while on a walk, simply to test their merit.  After all, I have no need to sweat profusely into my good ones (read: headphones) all the time, so perhaps a backup pair wouldn’t be so bad to have, right? Right?

Totally, utterly and completely wrong.

The first thing I noticed about the Dongle Twins (as we’ll call them) is that they immediately seek to escape from your ear canal at any opportunity.  Turning your head to check traffic?  Oops, out they go.  Bobbing your head to the incredible synthesizer beats of “Here’s the News” at any time in any weather?  Ha.  Breathing too easily?  Swallowing ever?  Holding your breath? Blinking?  Gone.  It’s as if they traumatize each pair by beating them senseless with some earwax-covered mallet so as to infuse a mortal fear of anything Otolaryngologist-related.

The next thing I noticed was how much pain they begin to inflict upon the ear in so short a time.  I used to think a too-tight batting helmet was the best way to extract revenge upon the ol’ sounders, but now I realize that Steve Jobs has been selling the most masochistically-inclined piece of ear-wear on the planet for more than my first car sold for in 2007.

If there’s a good thing to be said about the DTs, perhaps it has to do with the almost-legendary length of their cord.  Specifically, their lack of such.  I guess they included a clip in the final product because the designers all realized that nobody with a torso containing five ribs or more is going to be able to keep the player in their pocket and the earphones in their ears simultaneously.  I even compromised and tried to clip it on to the top of my waistband, but as soon as I tilted my head up slightly, all semblance of slack disappeared without a trace.  Charlie Crews is looking into it.

See, I really don’t hate Apple that much.  They’re an American company, and their CEO might not have completely Jobbed his partner out of the business.   It’s just the little things they do that constantly prevent me from entrusting anything more than a small portion of my playlist to them at a time.  If you own an iphone, have you ever been thrilled about the deep-set 2.5mm jack that prevent you from using virtually any sort of output without buying their adapter?  Honestly, for a company that makes some of the best computers and MP3 players on the planet, you’d think they could actually try to design earphones that were at least usable for some period of time.  Every other company in the kingdom gets it, Apple.  You include some cheap replica of good earphones with the player that will at least work for a short period of time before breaking, leaving the consumer no choice but to purchase a higher-end set later on.  Apple, however, has somehow managed to seduce millions of people (many of them willing to pay exorbitant price for their computers) into sticking with these headphones even when Apple themselves sell better ones.  Somehow, Apple has reached the business Nirvana of convincing consumers that ownership of their goods creates such total happiness that even the most reasonable and minimal efforts to upgrade from admittedly-terrible hardware are forsaken.  Is it a status thing, or is it just apathy?

Personally, I suspect that the average ipod owner just listens to such terrible music in the first place that the agony of this earphone-wearing experience simply pales in comparison to the everyday rigors of enduring their ABBA/Gwen Stefani playlists on repeat.  Crank it, honey.  Crank it good.





Sufjawe Endspiring

1 10 2008

I have called you children, I have called you son.
What is there to answer if I’m the only one?
Morning comes in Paradise, morning comes in light.
Still I must obey, still I must invite.
If there’s anything to say, if there’s anything to do,
If there’s any other way, I’ll do anything for you.

I was dressed embarrassment.
I was dressed in wine.
If you had a part of me, will you take you’re time?
Even if I come back, even if I die
Is there some idea to replace my life?
Like a father to impress;
Like a mother’s mourning dress,
If you ever make a mess, I’ll do anything for you

I have called you preacher; I have called you son.
If you have a father or if you haven’t one,
I’ll do anything for you. I did everything for you.





Play it again? Sam?

17 08 2008

I have got to find someone with a piano who doesn’t mind letting me in at odd hours of the morning.

Notice: Robert has an insatiable urge to delve into the keys more often. Help.