The Monitor, Titus Andronicus

This is an album I know like the back of my hand

Titus Andronicus' The Monitor is a very special and important release to me because its themes and motifs are incredibly relatable as they are inspiring and vast.

The instrumentation is pretty basic and washy, lo fi electric guitars and bass, driving punk drums, wheezing organs and bagpipes, pretty folk punk record.

and the vocals are crackly and whiny, like Patrick Stickles is crying and singing all at once, drawing a very pretty picture of Pianos Become The Teeth, perfectly capturing the imagery of social exile and alienation with crippling depression and blinding angst.

And you know what?

Its eerily perfect.

This record tells the story of a breakup, relating it to the events of the American Civil War, with excerpts of letters and poetry recorded in between songs or movements.

It goes through the painful angst and melancholy of the troubled youth as they fight and struggle through university and the unfeeling masses refusing to accept the diverse or otherwise unique, with lyrics bearing such weight and anguish, its impossible to not feel emotionally grounded or at least solemnly aware while listening.

This album is an emotional power trip as much as it is a howling homage to the bands efforts previous, bringing in the theme 'Titus Andronicus Forever' as a resonating Bro Anthem of the band and its fanbase.

This album taught me a lot about myself and my feelings during a really dark and angsty time in my life, and I really carry a lot of gratitude towards it.

This band was kind of like... There for me, like this record specifically, and I have a lot of personal attatchment to it. And I think thats what Titus Andronicus was really trying for here, because the record is so deeply personal and heartfelt you cant help but relate to it in some way.

This record takes on such concepts as anti-americanism, the human condition, personal inadequacy, and the struggle of self loathing.

A lot of the lyrics come from a dark place in Patrick Stickles' mind and his heart.

It is made abundantly clear the pain and isolation he was feeling when he wrote these songs, as the words kind of carry a sort of self-hating tone and the subject matter of which the songs are about are very obviously kind of painful experiences in his life.

The artwork is very simple, mainly old photos from the civil war era taken in a kind of blue scale which i think compliments the album greatly, giving it a really Northern, kind of somber feel.

The last track is what really sets this apart from your average angsty emopunk album.
Weighing in at Fourteen minutes and eleven seconds, The Battle of Hampton Roads takes up an entire side of The double LP release. and that's just what this track is, its a final release, the last phlegmy exhale before you can breathe clearly again, the last push to survival and assured victory, that night where you break down completely over her before you start picking your pieces back up. At the same time, its a prime example of the futility of angst in the first place. I identified with this album most when i was seventeen going on eighteen. It sounds very similar to that of the musings and wails of the late adolescent emo kid, but it was written by a bearded twenty something about college in New Jersey. But for what it is, this track is absolutely stunning and well engineered and produced. It takes a special kind of magic to make fourteen minutes feel like nothing in terms of songs. And they managed to hit it right on the head with this track. Its flow is remarkable, and its layered textures are very visible and complimented by each other, along with the final gasps of despair echoing into emptiness. This track has perfect builds and the order of the album is such a perfect set up for this amazing punk rock desertif that drinks like a 24 case of bud light platinum and carries you up to your room when youre done sitting in the back yard rambling about pork chops, with like, a gatorade and a puke bowl n shit. This song knows how to end an album.

This might be the personal attatchment, sense of nostalgia, and overall likability of the band, but i am definitely feeling like this record deserves some serious praise.

100th post.

It has taken me like give or take three or four years to write 100 different things on this website.

This blog has been a vessel of feels all throughout my angsty years.

Like a... sea hearty wife of a terrified sailor

and throughout EVERYTHING, it has been there. In all of my love, and all of my loss, my drug addled rage and drug fueled euphoria.

Through all of the jobs ive had, and all of the music ive written, performed, tried to record, and soon to be carrying into TWO schools with me.

100 posts.

Wow!

Well, 90 technically. 90 that YOU'VE seen.

But ive been busy. Beleive it or not, there are some things i write that I DONT post on here! Be them too long and contrived, too short to be substantial, not informative enough, not upbeat enough, TOO angsty, maybe too suicidal...

some ideas i do eventually bring to the forefront, though merely in retrospect.

And even now, while I sit here marking the seventh consecutive hour watching the horrific plastic snakeman version of Henry Rollins known as Mark Landsberg speak about... I dont know, sportsball? Seriously this mans uncanny valley ass face is the most horrifying fucking thing.

he looks like a Ken Doll you left on the stovetop.

In fact almost everyone on this show looks like an off-brand punk rocker....

We have meltyface Henry Rollins, jobless plumber Lars Frederiksen, and just the literal guys from Four Year Strong, sitting in a cold metal studio literally exchanging twitter handles for an hour or two what is this garbage

but anyway yeah 100 posts i am a big deal sup

The Last Known Space Cowboy

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We Fight On

I kinda miss back when my feelings of angst and inadequacy ruled my existance and I wasnt so grown up and quiet.

At least I had something to say, even if it didnt matter.

However, even with the importance of what I have to say being at all relevant or not, I dont miss feeling super ridiculously shitty and not having the motivation to put up with stuff i didnt want to continue with anymore to carry me forward into something i MIGHT wanna do later.

Life since this blog crashed has been a laugh, and thats just the way I like it. Now everything really feels like its a building block, like life is going somewhere, like I'm leveling up and its good!

Lifes about to get a little harder, but in a good way, not a depressing one.

Which is AWESOME. I legit fucking hate being depressed.

Im glad thats all behind me.

I still get glimpses of it, but it is never as bad as it used to be.

Depression built a fighter, when it wanted to wreck a weak link.

Caffeine consumption

More or less, every morning, I will pound back two cups of coffee. And then on my way to work I will pick up two rockstars and pound those back.

Then when i get off work, I drink two MORE rockstars, and if i feel like it, suck back a large double-double before I go home.

How the hell I can sleep is beyond me. But its no question that I may have a slight caffeine addiction.

We all have our vices, I guess, and mine just so happen to be gratuitious ammounts of sketchy chemicals and then weed to bring me back down again.

And its not even like the rush I get from a lot of energy drinks is all that satisfying or really that prevalent, I just like drinking rockstar cause its tasty!!

And another thing I have learned as a lightweight, anyway...

Jaegermeister is your friend. Youre riding easy on your random hard liquor, and its kinda making you more groggy than drunk. Three shots of Jaeger and a can of redbull and suddenly it's intermission!
As the sleepiness that tries to take hold of you dissapates, you feel the other inhibitions melt away along with it.

Suddenly its time to drink more! And youre still feeling very little of it! This carries on until the caffeine wears off, and then youre still a wobbly mess, but without the vomit!

Versus firing blind, railing three tequila, pounding back three schooners, wobbling home and throwing up.

So yeah, I pound back lots of caffeine... But whatever! Least I kinda know how to party?

Namaste n shit

Paid in sighs

Say how did you get those marks on your neck?
Was it the cherry in the bowl
Or the cover of the check?
Maybe you're as smooth
as the pomade in your hair
create enticing poison
by manipulation of the air

And who chiseled out your jaw?
And for that matter, your collar?
A grande with no foam
Will that be all? Or...

Everyone will tell you
That you're always something special
But when it comes to pleasing
You've never felt the pressure
And how gifted you are with all those hooks and ties
almost like you get paid in sighs

Say how did you get that lipstick on your cheek?
Was it her passion in her eyes
Or her knees going weak?
Or maybe you're as loving
As your mother thinks you are
Create unbreakable webs
by alignment of the stars

And who polished those eyes
And can they get any bigger?
Maybe if I make you smile
And make my heart go a little quicker

Everyone will tell you
That you're always something special
But when it comes to pleasing
You've never felt the pressure
And how gifted you are with all those hooks and ties
almost like you get paid in sighs

Everyone will tell you
That you're always something special
But when it comes to pleasing
You've never felt the pressure
And how gifted you are with all those hooks and ties
almost like you get paid in sighs

Hell might be a social construct, but earth goes on for miles...

Take it from the top and see what comes
through the broken hearts, and all the bloody thumbs
lose sight of myself in the light of the future
burn off the past and let the now be my sutures
set the infrastructure of this dog and pony show
break off the restraining valve and let your feelings flow

the dramatic flimsy framework and dispassionate pleas prolonging
the painful break inevitable, necrotic heart still longing
fight through brush and briar to get to where you are,
monument to childhood, left to go so far
terracotta life, all my fired naiive strife, crumbling with age and rain
oceans over hate and pain

the battery of love and rage
not liked but necessary,
for every step in the right direction comes a worthy adversary
and i wont fight but overcome
unrelenting until this battle is won
bet against me your healthy wagers
for und wir sind der jaeger.