Perhaps An Intention?

So I'm lying in bed a moment ago reading a book and I decided that I needed to get up and write about a few things.  The book I'm reading is Kim Cooper's fantastic and insightful study of Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea (pictured) from the popular 33 1/3 series. Thanks to Hunter and Mary Katherine for letting me borrow it.  They both read it and felt like I needed to read it, and they were right.  For more on the 33 1/3 books, see the "worthy" links over there <---.  

First off, those of you who have read Thornton Wilder's The Bridge of San Luis Rey (the book I just finished reading) will recognize the title of this post as the title of the final chapter of that book.  It's kind of hard to explain if you haven't read it, but let's just say that sometimes things happen that seem too serendipitous.  Some events are so coincidental that it seems like there must be some intentional force at work behind the coincidence.  I guess it's going to seem that way when you live and create in Athens and you're reading a book about one of the greatest bands to ever live and create in Athens.  For example, you flip the page and there's a photo of the house on Grady Avenue.  Right above that is a picture of "The Landfill" house on Reese Street.  Both of these houses are within a mile or two of our house.  But aside from the obvious geographical coincidences there are so many other connections I feel to the actual attitudes and feelings the guys in the Elephant 6 crew seemed to have while trying to find their footing.  Just the loving, genuine caring that they all felt for one another.  A sincere, judgement-free appreciation for whatever it was that creatively came out of the souls in their clan.  Man that sounds nice.  

Some people in Athens aren't really impressed with stuff like this; either they are jaded from years of living here amongst the mythical status music folklore, or for whatever reason they kind of act like it isn't that big of a deal.  But I'm floored by this type of stuff.  In my opinion, this is why we should all love Athens, because it breeds and fosters this type of behavior:  cheap-rent houses and plentiful part-time day jobs, the beautiful "Southern Gothic" landscape, a whole bunch of kids, a whole bunch of bars, people who care, I don't know...something that makes people come here to play music.  Something in the water.  It's what made these gentlemen come from Ruston, Louisiana and it is what has made countless others make the move also.

So anyhow, on to the more coincidental stuff.  As of late Hunter and I have been recording like mad in our palatial Park Avenue estate and today was no exception, but alas!  We lacked various components of a drum kit, as we have yet to fully set our gear up after our farm 255 show Sunday night with Arizona.  (Speaking of which, check out the Flagpole's glowing review of the show, hot off the presses).  So after I rigged up a hi-hat stand by twisting a coat hanger through the broken chain links of the pedal and assembling some leftover cymbals in the basement, we called up our boy Blaze from Bambara and he was kind enough to allow us to borrow the last two necessary ingredients that I could not skimp on:  a kick pedal and some drum sticks.  By the way I'm officially sold on Bambara, they rocked one hell of a bombastic free set last night at Go Bar and played two really, really good new songs.  Go see them promptly in order to save your mortal soul.  So, Hunter and I head downtown to borrow the gear, listening to The Gerbils on the way.  Hunter mentions that Gerbils leader and Neutral Milk Hotel horn guy Scott Spillane is a big dude with an amazing voice and a big ass white beard.  We scoop up Blaze on the street corner and proceed to get a pedal and two of the crappiest shredded drumsticks I have ever seen and head back to drop him off.  As we approach the corner of College Avenue and Washington Street (still listening to The Gerbils) we look to our right and notice that Scott Spillane is stopped right next to us at the red light, driving a big white band van.  We all sat there, unable to comprehend the serendipity.  Hunter swears something almost compelled him to say "What if Scott Spillane just pulls up next to us?" right before we saw him.  I mean, I know Athens is pretty small but come on, it's not that small.  The light turned green, as it sometimes does, and we dropped Blaze off and went back to the house to lay down some demo drums for four new songs.  

Whether someone is trying to tell us something or not, I don't know.  We have decided that we will gladly keep our ears open and probably create connections that do not even exist.  But reading the 33 1/3 book In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is nearly as inspiring as listening to the album and I feel like it's telling me something 39 pages in.  In no way am I self-absorbed enough to think that I am a prodigal son following in the footsteps of my cult heroes, but it feels good to have the reason for your very existence validated by the words of your cult heroes. 

I guess what I mean is when Mary Katherine let me borrow the book last night, she made me read the last page first, and once again she was right to do so.  Seriously, thanks to Hunter and Mary Katherine for this book.  It has already helped me in numerous ways.  Realizing that some of you may not get to read it, I'm going to share with you the passage she made me read:

Julian Koster, whose life was immeasurably enriched by the souls he found in Ruston, has a message for young musicians and artists who are trying to find their way.  It seems like he's talking to his teenage self when he says, emphatically and sweetly, "I think what Elephant 6 meant for us is very simple:  there's something pure and infinite in you, that wants to come out of you, and can come out of no other person on the planet.  That's what you've got to share, and that's as real and important as the fact that you're alive.  We were able, at a really young age, to somehow protect each other so we could feel that.  The world at large, careerism, money, magazines, your parents, the people at the rock club in your town, other kids, nothing is going to give you that message, necessarily.  In fact, most things are going to lead you away from it, sadly, because humanity is really confused at the moment.  But you wouldn't exist if the universe didn't need you.  And any time I encounter something beautiful that came out of a human somewhere, that's them, that's their own soul.  That's just pure, whatever its physicality is, if the person can play piano, if they can't play piano, if they're tone deaf, whatever it is, if it's pure, it hits you like a sledgehammer.  It fills up your own soul, it makes you want to cry, it makes you glad you're alive, it lets you come out of you.  And that's what we need:  we desperately need you."