Tracks with strong vocal harmonies over twinkling backgrounds and skittering drums are delightfully common, and “Harlem” is no exception. What makes it yet more enjoyable is the tasteful foregrounding of key guitar lines, which give the track more bite. The best of these comes just before the 2:30 mark.
CATHEDRALS is a duo from san francisco, which means they are cooler then you. skeptical? listen. listen again.
review // the baristas at stumptown coffee roasters expect their patrons to know the difference between single origin and mixed blend coffees when they order their espresso and they will make an espresso twice if the temperature or tamping is imperfect. i choose a single origin bean. i am asked if i want to start a punch card. i decline; i am just admiring the design of the business cards. the stark location of stumptown has both impeccable design and succulents—a daring and unmatched combination. i wish i were less sincere about how much i enjoyed sitting in the (ace hotel) lounge with caroline and caitlin, spooning the last sugar-seeped dregs from my cup, sipping the last of the water from my glass, but i’m not insincere.
morning recipe: walnuts, pepper brie, a pavé
"The poet looking comprises an intellectual sizing, weighing. And if the writing holds, it can function by its very nature as both a
naming and a reclaiming, a corrective and a salvaging, within the
occupying (preoccupying) culture."
(via Alfresco by Merrill Gilfillan)
ensembles like this one.
Because yesterday morning from the steamy window
we saw a pair of red foxes across the creek
eating the last windfall apples in the rain—
they looked up at us with their green eyes
long enough to symbolize the wakefulness of living things
and then went back to eating—
and because this morning
when she went into the gazebo with her black pen and yellow pad
to coax an inquisitive soul
from what she thinks of as the reluctance of matter,
I drove into town to drink tea in the cafe
and write notes in a journal—mist rose from the bay
like the luminous and indefinite aspect of intention,
and a small flock of tundra swans
for the second winter in a row was feeding on new grass
in the soaked fields; they symbolize mystery, I suppose,
they are also called whistling swans, are very white,
and their eyes are black—
and because the tea steamed in front of me, and
the notebook, turned to a new page,
was blank except for a faint blue idea of order,
I wrote: happiness! it is December, very cold,
we woke early this morning,
and lay in bed kissing,
our eyed squinched up like bats.
—Robert Hass, Sun Under Wood, The Ecco Press 1996
(courtesy of alex)