Category Archives: Music

Artistic alchemy, when it hits right, can astonish and astound, and sometimes it does so in quiet, poetic, and somber form. When that happens, something like a song and accompanying video transcend their physical boundaries and touch people in a way that proves the necessity of art in a world gone mad with so many other things. 

Such is the beautiful experience that results from the recent collaboration between composer and producer Karel Barnoski and director and performer Summer Shapiro. Barnoski’s latest piece ‘November Moon’ stands alone for the wondrous way it pulls emotions and yearning from the inspiring journey of a November moon – but taken with Shapiro’s visual treatise on our pandemic existence, it takes on new import and expression. 

Inspired by a moment of solitude in November of 2020, the music begins and ends in somber contemplation, and even at the midpoint in a release of gorgeous cascading arpeggios there is a sense of resignation and resolution in simply existing in the moment. Coupled with an extraordinary performance piece by Shapiro, in which her character all but goes through the entire emotional embodiment of what living during a pandemic can feel like, this project is one of those works of art that resonates because it’s so singular and yet so relatable.  

The moon plays a role here in the title, as well as in the creative process (the video was shot during the full moon of November 2021, which was also the date of the longest lunar eclipse since ether 15th century). Seen, worshipped and adored by millions, the moon has only ever been alone – solitary orbiter of the earth – peeking at and reflecting the brilliance of the sun – and such solitude has lent her power, grace, magic, and solemnity. Those themes find creative expression in this music and the accompanying visuals, where the tension of creating art in the midst of being alone – particularly art that reaches out to the very heartstrings some of us are most afraid to pluck – results in an eerie state of release and hesitant exultation. Even in the final minute of the video, when the protagonist finds freedom and escape on a timeless seashore in a brilliant azure dress, she is utterly and supremely alone. Just like the moon.

{Karel Barnoski’s new single ‘ November Moon’ is available here.}

The post-holidays blues are about to hit some of us very hard, with the most depressing day of the year supposedly just around the corner (I thought it was January 6 for some reason, but my memory is not what is used to be.) For such times, it is good to find comfort in whatever makes you happy, and music has been one such source of joy for me. Here is one of those calming songs that acknowledges how rough it can be, and how crazy we can get, while delivering it in sweet and easygoing melodic fashion. It becomes a balm for all the agitated self-examination that we occasionally inflict upon ourselves. In the winter, the stillness and silence breed such reflection, and it’s not always a bad thing. 

Sometimes I feel like I’m drunk behind the wheel
The wheel of possibility
However it may roll, give it a spin
See if you can somehow factor in
You know there’s always more than one way
To say exactly what you mean to say

A good song has some element of ambiguity to it, and a few escape clauses to allow the listener to imbue it with various meanings. This is a sterling example of that, pristine in its many layers of possibility and intent, and with only a few lines. All the while, the music gently sways and pushes us along, keeping us moving through the woes of winter, reminding that there are others like us, going through the same hurt and trouble, and making the burden slightly lighter for that.  It’s perfect driving music, when the dirty snow and gray salt are wrecking the car, the pools of exhaust occasionally filtering in through the heater, and it’s both freezing and unbearably hot at the same time. 

Was I out of my head or was I out of my mind?
How could I have ever been so blind?
I was waiting for an indication, it was hard to find
Don’t matter what I say, only what I do
I never mean to do bad things to you
So quiet but I finally woke up
If you’re sad then it’s time you spoke up too

I must’ve dreamed a thousand dreams
Been haunted by a million screams
But I can hear the marching feet
They’re moving into the street
Now did you read the news today?
They say the danger’s gone away
But I can see the fires still alight
They’re burning into the night

Pulling my mask a bit tighter against my face, I shuffle to the entrance of the Loudonville Price Chopper. Some guy from a dirty truck with a Trump sticker is right behind me, maskless – as he will remain (literally the only idiot not wearing a mask in the entire store) and I only wish my eyes are conveying the scowl and disgust that must remain hidden behind my own mask. Shrugging it off, because what else is there to do anymore, I listen to the song playing on the sound system, which is vaguely familiar and suddenly harkening to a childhood memory. Well, not so much a specific memory as a feeling and a place – my childhood home, a day in winter, and the flashing movements of a puppet-fueled video. It strikes some terror in my heart too, so it may have been right before we had to give a speech in sixth grade – so brutally terrifying was the notion of being in front of a group of people, even then. This is ‘Land of Confusion’ by Genesis – one of the follow-up tracks to the far superior ‘Invisible Touch’ which had informed the previous summer. (Pop music always lands better in the memory bank during the summer – I don’t know why.)

There’s too many men, too many people
Making too many problems
And not much love to go ’round
Can’t you see this is a land of confusion?

This is the world we live in (oh, oh, oh)
And these are the hands we’re given (oh, oh, oh)
Use them and let’s start trying (oh, oh, oh)
To make it a place worth living in…

The confusion of being in sixth grade – where elementary school ended and with it so much of the innocence of childhood – left me both aching to escape and longing to go back. Nobody explains adolescence to you in any effective way, and I’m not sure how we would even do that now. Happily bereft of children, I find that it’s not something that has crossed my radar. As for how I navigated through my own youth, it was a series of trials and tribulations, learning from mistakes and staying so low-key so as not to astonish or arouse suspicion. That’s strange for someone whose very characteristics set him apart from the majority of the pack. A lone wolf struggles and suffers, but if they survive they are all the stronger for it. Survival in such cases is too often a tremulous ‘if’, and I’m sorry that it had to be so.

Oh, Superman, where are you now
When everything’s gone wrong somehow?
The men of steel, the men of power
Are losing control by the hour

This is the time, this is the place
So we look for the future
But there’s not much love to go ’round
Tell me why this is a land of confusion

I didn’t really like this song, but the chorus was catchy enough to get caught in my head (damn the hook!) The video was also on constant rotation, at a time when MTV actually played music videos. Whirling and swirling, I felt the mayhem of the lyrics and the tumult of the musical cadences, all conspiring to define a moment of contained chaos.

This is the world we live in (oh, oh, oh)
And these are the hands we’re given (oh, oh, oh)
Use them and let’s start trying (oh, oh, oh)
To make it a place worth living in

I remember long ago
Oh, when the sun was shining
Yes, and the stars were bright all through the night
And the sound of your laughter as I held you tight
So long ago…

It’s not that far from where we are today, only now I’m an adult, and should be equipped for dealing with it better. Of course I’m not – the fallacy of adulthood being that children are in so many ways wiser and more reasonable. The fears I had then were only replaced by the fears I have now, and adult fears are often worse because they are of actual events rather than the made-up fantasy of imagination and what-if. Dragons are easily defeated; death not so much.

I won’t be coming home tonight
My generation will put it right
We’re not just making promises
That we know we’ll never keep

Too many men, there’s too many people
Making too many problems
And not much love to go ’round
Can’t you see this is a land of confusion?

I’m not sure what comfort or solace or resolution comes from merely pointing out the problems and identifying the existence of confusion and angst, but here it is in the hopes that something good results. Or at least nothing bad. The mere absence of awful events – the stagnant notion of nothing happening – is underrated these days. Let’s bring that back in vogue.

Now this is the world we live in (oh, oh, oh)
And these are the hands we’re given (oh, oh, oh)
Use them and let’s start trying (oh, oh, oh)
To make it a place worth fighting for

This is the world we live in (oh, oh, oh)
And these are the names we’re given (oh, oh, oh)
Stand up and let’s start showing (oh, oh, oh)
Just where our lives are going to…

The somewhat-misnomered title of this post references the actual title of the song featured below, which is ‘One Winter’s Night’ – a beautiful and calm reflection on a night in winter. This early into the season it is something to be celebrated and revered, and I only hope I can keep this attitude for the remaining three months. 

There is a stark simplicity to winter, exemplified by the barren branches and bare bones of the garden. A coating of snow obscures this for only so long. We forget how much space leaves and flowers and life take up until they’re gone. 

Now, the colors come from the sky – reflected in the clouds and carried on any snowfall. Fleeting and ephemeral, they exist only in ungraspable form – elusive and furtive, and tempestuous as a winter wind. You cannot hold or capture them – merely acknowledge and marvel at their wonder. Just like winter. 

Let’s ignore the fact that she was born in 1989, when I was already fourteen years old and bopping along to ‘Like A Prayer‘ and ‘Express Yourself’ and instead focus on the December 13th part, on which we celebrate the birth of the brilliance that is Taylor Swift. For many years I was a reluctant Swiftie of sorts, not quite a hard-core fan, but not quite a hater either. There were moments she thrilled and chilled me, and her musical song-writing prowess has never been in question. It took ‘folklore’ to bring me fully into the Swiftie camp, and ‘evermore’ solidified that standing. Today, I’m a die-hard fan, who is embarking on a re-visiting of all her previous work thanks to the Taylor’s Versions coming out at full-throttle.

Here, in honor of her birthday, are all the songs that have touched me so far, with plenty more just waiting to be written:

• Lover
• The Archer
• Blank Space
• ‘Tis the Damn Season
• Betty
• Champagne Problems
• This Is Me Trying
• Mr. Perfectly Fine

Comeuppance doesn’t always happen when it should. It doesn’t always arrive just at the moment the person who needs the lesson most should by right and justice and karma get their just desserts. Sometimes it comes years later, and over all that time in slow deterioration and gradual degradation. It eats away gently, insidiously, and so perfectly you don’t even realize it. And it’s usually the ones who inflict the hurt who aren’t the ones left unscathed in the end. 

Mr. Perfect face
Mr. Here to stay
Mr. Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away
Everything was right
Mr. I’ve been waiting for you all my life
Mr. Every single day until the end, I will be by your side

But that was when I got to know Mr. Change of heart
Mr. Leaves me all alone ~ I fall apart
It takes everything in me just to get up each day
But it’s wonderful to see that you’re okay

Sometimes, the intended recipient of the lesson doesn’t even know the song was written about them. Sometimes we don’t think we were even worthy of something like a song. Or a letter. Or a regret. And the hurt that we never meant to hurt so much rebounds in the most brilliantly hurtful way, taking its toll the long way – the lifelong limp to some sort of damage, some irrevocable damage. There are some things you cannot take back. There are some breaks that can never be mended. There are some hurts that simply won’t heal. 

Hello Mr. Perfectly fine
How’s your heart after breaking mine?
Mr. Always at the right place at the right time,  baby
Hello Mr. Casually cruel
Mr. Everything revolves around you
I’ve been Miss Misery since your goodbye
And you’re Mr. Perfectly fine

Mr. Never told me why
Mr. Never had to see me cry
Mr. Insincere apology so he doesn’t look like the bad guy
He goes about his day
Forgets he ever even heard my name
Well, I thought you might be different than the rest
I guess you’re all the same

Most people don’t think of themselves as the villain in any story. It’s very hard to admit when that’s the case, and even when we realize it might be so, we can still justify and explain our actions so as to be seen as complex instead of cruel, honest instead of hurtful. The mangled contortions involved in so masterfully switching the narrative, tweaking it just so, hanging innocence on singularly exact words and creating a maze of semantics, too often result in a shroud filled with holes  – a net not capable of capturing the smoke of what only ever amounts to a lie. 

‘Cause I hear he’s got his arm ’round a brand-new girl
I’ve been pickin’ up my heart, he’s been pickin’ up her
And I never got past what you put me through
But it’s wonderful to see that it never phased you

Hello Mr. Perfectly fine
How’s your heart after breakin’ mine?
Mr. Always at the right place at the right time, baby
Hello Mr. Casually cruel
Mr. Everything revolves around you
I’ve been Miss Misery since your goodbye
And you’re Mr. Perfectly fine

While we toil at seeing ourselves as the villain, we have no problem seeing ourselves as the central character of every story we think we’re living. We aren’t alone. A geocentric view of the universe is the original mistake we as humans made. We’re still making that same mistake, still thinking the world revolves around us. It doesn’t make us bad. It just means we’re human, and humans were designed to fail first and fix later.

So dignified in your well-pressed suit
So strategized, all the eyes on you
Sashay away to your seat
It’s the best seat, in the best room
Oh, he’s so smug, Mr. Always wins
So far above me in every sense
So far above feeling anything

And it’s really such a shame
It’s such a shame
‘Cause I was Miss Here to stay
Now I’m Miss Gonna be alright someday
And someday maybe you’ll miss me
But by then, you’ll be Mr. Too late

When I used to drink too much, I’d get to a point where friends would ask if I was okay, and I’d always snarl, “I’m fine” with a laugh and half a scream. When I was sober and someone hurt me, friends would also ask if I was okay, and I’d say the same thing – “I’m fine” – with a dismissive shake of the head. These both occurred with some regularity over the years. It turned out I was never fine. Not perfectly fine, not imperfectly fine, not fine at all. 

Goodbye Mr. Perfectly fine
How’s your heart after breakin’ mine?
Mr. Always at the right place at the right time, baby
Goodbye Mr. Casually cruel
Mr. Everything revolves around you
I’ve been Miss Misery for the last time
And you’re Mr. Perfectly fine
You’re perfectly fine
Mr. Look me in the eye and told me you would never go away
You said you’d never go away

And then one day, maybe near the end of our lives, we forgive, or we forget – there’s eventually no big distinction between the two. It then becomes… nothing. Like we never met. Like it never happened. None of the hurt, and none of the happiness. We work so hard toward erasing the bad bits, to overcoming the sad parts, to picking up all the pieces – and we forget the music and we lose the song. If we’re lucky, we hear it again, and it strikes in a different way. We allow ourselves to see our part in the pain. We acknowledge it. We own up to it. We apologize in our heart – as sorry for someone else’s damage as for our own – because it’s always the same, always from the same place. A tear is a tear, no matter what pushes it down the cheek. 

Damn you, Taylor Swift.