Nick’s

If you haven’t listened to vaporwave yet, please do, in fact start with this song (sup - Waterfront Dining) because it’s what I want to talk about.

Alright, I hope you liked it, cause I love it and what it tells me. Let’s take a minute and talk vaporwave and mostly what it means to me.

Vaporwave, to me, is a form of art built on top of what wasn’t supposed to last.

Think of it this way, take a Chevrolet Chevette and look at that thing. It was supposed to be cheap and disposable, disposed of when time came to upgrade or replace, unremembered and unremarkable. Nothing about it was innovative, it sat on the lot to provide transportation at a cheap cost and was (to be generous) good enough. Some people liked them and I’m sure there’s some people that absolutely love these, but most bought them, ran them into the ground, and sold them to some teen for less than two grand. But find a pristine one, and you’ll stop and say “What is this? This can’t be Chevette, it’s too nice, too cared for.” But it is and it’ll show you what they saw when it came out, a nice (ish) vehicle for very little money relatively.

This is what vaporwave artificially does, but with music.

Vaporwave twists, chops, screws, and rearranges everything in a song from twenty to forty years ago to bring you something new and more modern but still packaged in a classic wrapper and still giving you the vibe that people from that era would’ve felt when it came out.

While the car analogy mostly works, vaporwave takes one more step and that is to add depth. Music from those times (specifically those chosen for vaporwave remixes) were vapid, surface level, and produced to make money. Simple songs about love, loss, and sometimes money. Think the modern country music scene, disingenuous, repetitive, and bland.

We’ll take sup as our first example of making a song modern yet still hanging out in its era. This one is simple, it’s You’re the one (You’re my Number One) by Katie Kissoon from 1983, but slowed down and chopped of all it’s substance. It’s another thing vaporwave loves to do, accentuate what the original feeling of the era was, in this case vapidness and a lack of depth. Although the original had other lyrics, it mimicked the eighties sensationalism and commercialism to a T. So what does Waterfront Dining do? Rip out the rest of the lyrics and put the chorus on display as the main point of the song. It also slows it down and halves the length. Bring the beat down and focusing on every piece of it brings a much deeper meaning to the song rather then the original’s fast beat which just says get this intro the hell out of the way so we can stick the lyrics down people’s throats. Listen to it again and see that it mimics life and our thoughts or simply how we feel or rather want to.

It starts off easy then delves into the meat of the beat, it’s all very exciting which life is but we have to settle down and have expectations. That’s where the base line comes in, it’s familiar and we can tell that the lyrics are coming and life should be settling in, we know what to expect (or we think we do) and we get ready. What could happen but her, she comes into your life, the lyric explodes out and we can only see her and we can only think about her

You’re the one, you’re the only one

The beat is exciting and bashing around instantly, but it eventually settles. It’s still exciting and she’s the only one on your mind. Whether that’s true or not depends on you. But it eases out of sound gently and you arrive at the next track which stays on theme.

She’d left his apartment early that morning without his knowledge. Leaving nothing, it’s like she was never there. He stretched out his arms and looked around, familiar fixtures gone, little things that she scattered about were missing. Her phone wasn’t plugged in nor was her phone cord even present. Sliding over to the side of the bed, planting his bare feet to the carpet, he curled his toes into the fluffy fibers. He glanced around, without her, the room looked vacant and lifeless, sterile. ‘It didn’t matter’ he told himself walking towards the single window that was pouring vicious light onto the pale white walls. He stuck the window up letting in a breeze that blew right through him. He pressed his tongue to his teeth letting it slide off harshly and grind on the tops of them. A shock in his shoulder ran down his forearms as he pushed his fingertips into his palm. He kept swallowing nothing and tensed his jaw, letting it hang open for a moment. He took a short, sharp breath in and let it out slowly hoping this would win him the battle he knew he was going to lose. His head sunk down, elbows landing hard on the window sill as his face buried into his hands. He couldn’t control it, every bit of her came out in that moment.

Inspiration

“

He woke up, the room was bare

He didn't see her anywhere

He told himself he didn't care

Pushed the window open wide

Felt an emptiness inside

To which he just could not relate

Brought on by a simple twist of fate

“

- Bob Dylan

(Very rough, sparsely edited, excuse the mess)

The floor came crashing down and revealed 6 bizarre looking creatures that sure looked like they were playing a card game. With no way to observe without interaction there was no other option to engage, before we got the chance the alien (as the creatures will be referred to going forward) spoke surprisingly in English. The following will be a verbose account of the incident.

“Oh shit not again” the alien groaned and looked down towards the table in exhaustion initially surprising us two (referred to as Dave and Ed going forward) they noticed our shock

“You guys alright I swear I just paid for the repair on that, my contractor is such a fraud” he gestured toward the seat and brought out some vessels filled with some sort of liquid, out of social obligation, we drank it

“Yeah we’re fine, what is all this?” We looked about the room which looked surprisingly normal, the poker table sat in the center with what looked like your normal man cave with the obvious foreign objects sticking out like sore thumbs.

“Look I know we aren’t filthy rich but this ain’t bad right? Look if you’re alr-“ He was cut off by another alien who came into the room

“Marty damn it I told you to take care of that!” She was clearly irritated by the alien who spoke with us (I suppose Marty?)

“I did Linda and I used your buddy there, ole Franky boy and look how good he did?” He pointed to the hole

“Frank does a good job clearly you messed with it!

“Why would I do that Linda? Why pay your old fuck buddy to fix my roof then screw with it huh why do that? You wanna tell me that?”

“Well you love to screw everything else! How about that whore Blake at your work huh she’s always calling you!”

“She’s my secretary it’s her job if I’m not at work to keep me up to date!”

“Yeah keep you up to date with what’s under her clothes!” She walked out of the room in a huff.

“What was that Linda?” He got up and followed her you could hear the muffled talk from the room we were in “did you say oh thanks Marty for providing for me so I can lay around and do nothing all day? Oh well no problem Linda, happy to do it I just Love our family so much!” We turned to the other aliens and tuned out the noise from the other room

“So does this happen often?” We asked the other five

“Honestly they’re not usually this bad it’s just a rough streak for both of them they’ll cool down eventually”

*BANG* we heard something get thrown against the wall

We moved towards that way but one of the other aliens stepped up and grabbed my wrist “just don’t, trust me, listen if you guys are alright you should probably go, the surface exit is through the other door past the guest room”

It seemed this probably wasn’t our business so we left and returned to the ship to document.

December 10, 1941

‘Bombs! Mass murders? An entire fleet of ships destroyed at where? Pearl Harbor? Yep that sounds about right, you know what else sounds about right?’ He shouted at the wall as he heard a broadcast over the radio ‘the idea that we’re just tripping over each other to go get ourselves killed! Am I the only one thinking this is a little off?’ He paced back and forth in his puny apartment. ‘They know something, something with Mr. Hitler over there. He’s up to something I know it!’ He stopped and looked around nervously, lowering his voice he whispered to the radio. ‘The man was Time Magazine’s Man of the Year in 1938 and we’re supposed to believe that in three short years we need to intervene because he’s done something wrong?’ He sat down in front of the radio and his voice went softer ‘I think that the key to heaven lies over there, the key to eternal happiness and prosperity, that’s what Time said!’ He turned away from the radio ‘at least if I bought it, who is paying ten cents for that garbage? I’m sure that’s what it said anyway.’ He turned back around, lifting himself on his knees and pressing his lips to the radio’s speaker grill. ‘I’m going over there, with our boys in green and I’m going to the land of dream! Utopia!’ Giddy with excitement he shot up giggling and dancing around ‘this is my chance! My life will finally be sorted out for the better!’

January 21, 1942

‘I don’t understand all this training and readiness nonsense! Do they really think they’re going to fool anyone with this German enemy nonsense?’ He sat stone faced riding to where he was to be stationed ‘The minute I see the other side I will know immortality! Infinite pleasure and endless amazement!’ A wry smile cracked on his face, he hoped no one would notice, for he was a United States soldier sworn to his nation, proud and immovable, trained to kill and destroy the enemy. The others looked nervous as he panned across their faces, some looked sick. “Don’t worry, after this we’ll all be for the better!” He shouted across the noise of the transport vehicle. It didn’t seem to reassure anyone. ‘That’s alright I understand it’s only eternal bliss forever, I’d be nervous too if I hadn’t waited so long for it!’ His smile bled out, he couldn’t be happier as he saw the line of conflict, it was his time. “Hitler!” He shouted, startling the other men. “I’m coming for you!” He rushed out of the vehicle charging towards the enemy.

He was promptly gunned down. The man leading the group looked around “that’s the only thing bravery is gonna get you if you don’t think for two seconds” the ride continued uneventfully.

My mind stopped wandering with the sound of heavy boots falling upon the weathered wood drawing near to me. I didn’t fear death, I welcomed it so long as it would take me, but this man, this man terrified me.

His presence carried more weight than anyone I’ve met, Poseidon lowered his trident in his shadow. Captain Barbados, so named for the wretched island he was born on, no parents or any history whatsoever, dragged onto a ship as a child and before he became a man that ship was his and the captain was just another corpse cast into the sea. He was ruthless, a truly cruel man that tolerated nothing but complete respect and undying loyalty. Anything else was snuffed out and taken care of in his own way.

A favorite of his was to keelhaul his problems away (who didn’t though?), albeit he didn’t stop there, if they survived longer than most they were dredged up and tied to the bow, left there until the job was finished, their cries of agony fell on the deaf ears of the crew, they didn’t feel a note of sympathy for them, if they were new blood or life long friends, when they crossed Barbados, they crossed the crew, that couldn’t be forgiven.

The cult like attitude of the ship kept his vessel afloat as no one could convince them there was anything else to life but to fulfill Barbados reckless quests. I could never understand it, I can see the fear and terror that could fill them with dread, convincing them to work for him or die. That wasn’t the case though as it was almost entirely admiration and respect, no fear was found in these soldiers of death. I seemed to be the exception. My reputation as being immortal (so it seemed) got me onto his ship, my actions that made him disgustingly rich are what got me multiple separate tours with him. Typically once you got on, you never left. I did and on a routine basis, he knew when to seek me out and he always found me. Whenever it was done, I was free to go, encouraged to leave actually and quite politely at that.

He walked up to me, head to toe in riches, flashing gold and a bright red outfit adorned his body. He had a thick black beard that extended down past his bust and his long black hair flowed out from underneath his hat. He was unscathed, his mettle had been tested, but it was hard, nay impossible to dent. Most fear a pirate with limbs gone, a leg here or a hand there, maybe a missing eye. But that just proved they were foolish and incapable, they let themselves get dismembered, it showed weakness. Barbados proved to the world over that he could not be touched and he could do whatever he pleased, the only hint he was mortal was a scar that extended down from the middle of his cheek and ended somewhere on his torso. He wouldn’t say how it happened so myths arose. Some say Poseidon himself slashed him, yet couldn’t finish him. Others say the beak of an enormous squid barely missed him but left that gash. No one knows and no one will ask for fear of the answer.

He let out an incredible laugh from the bottom of his belly and slapped a hand onto my shoulder as if we were old friends finally catching up, I’m not going to disagree. He showed more kindness than any other captain I’ve worked for. The others were all show, they acted as hard as they could, they had to. They didn’t have the respect that came with the power that Barbados had. It only made me more scared, if it came into his head that I betrayed him (whether I did or not didn’t matter), I fear I’ll never die, he’d never let it happen. My days would continue on as nothing but torture and pain and an entire crew dedicated to it.

He looked me dead in the eyes with fierce blue orbs, it made him destined to the sea. He asked “are you ready for what comes next?”

The man looked familiar, grizzled, worn down from time but something made me feel an innate sadness for him. He sat down on the bed across the room and stared at his feet, his hands kept rubbing together, he was clearly nervous. “You taught me everything” he repeated himself, not the part I was worried about but it was better than the silence we had both been enduring. I wasn’t sure how to respond, the initial shock of fear had already washed away and curiosity took hold. “What exactly did I teach you?” His hands stop surprise filled his eyes, was i not supposed to speak? “You taught me life, what it was I suppose, what it meant to be”. Clearly he wasn’t a straightforward man, neither was I, I suppose so I couldn’t blame him. “I still don’t understand, I’m sorry, this must be incredibly difficult” he stood up reaching into his inner suit. “It is, so this is it” he pulled out a pistol with a silencer on the end and rushed over to me, clicking off the safety, cocking the hammer, for dramatic effect I can only imagine. There was a calm in me, I didn’t move, not even a twitch, nevertheless I was still curious “you owe me a reason, at the least” my voice commanding apparently as he stopped dead, pistol still trained to my forehead, he seemed to debate whether I was worth it. “My life has been nothing but hardship and failure, none of it my own fault everything that could’ve gone wrong, did. There’s no other option it has to end now!” His arm tensed “that’s not a reason!” I shouted back. What could this possibly do to help his miserable situation? “The hell it is, it’s your fault!” It clicked, his face, in the right light I knew it was him, he knew it was me. I grinned, I suppose if this is what’s best. His lips contorted only slightly, I suppose he was happy I knew but not that he had to do it, I understood. The last thing I heard through his croaky voice “I love you Dad”

The room let out into darkness, not pitch black or all consuming, but relatively dark as far as city life goes. The campus being isolated helped with that, it’s dim light allowed the stars to be visible amongst the soft falling of snowflakes that shone so well in its off white hue. The cold air didn’t bite but made you aware of its presence as it flowed through your lungs and made you feel more at home in the darkness. The others that piled out were quiet, if they talked, they spoke in hushed voices as if it were rude to speak loudly in the presence of the quiet hum of the little activity that went on. Sure there were cars but no traffic so no honking and yelling but a low rumble of the engines made you know you weren’t alone outside of your own occupied area. I looked up at the night sky as the stars came into focus, each one meticulously placed on the inky canvas yet incomprehensibly chaotic in their placement. The artist simply practicing extreme patience in their work as if they knew it would be appreciated as such and not simply white noise strewn across the sky as if a brush was being flicked dry of its paint by an irritated artist who couldn’t be bothered to clean them properly. I breathed in the air once again and felt serenity, a place in the world where everyone decided this was the time and place where quiet could be had, where nothing would be disturbed, and where one could think and have absolutely nothing come to mind.

I’ve recently gotten back into my mechanical watch hobby as in it’s been less than six months and I’m getting the itch to buy another. Like this time and the time before and the time before I’m once again tempted to buy replica watches or to be less polite, counterfeit, fake copies of big brand names like Rolex and Omega.

I figured I’d go a little higher end this time the first two hovering around $200-250 and maybe going up to $1000 max for the next one which is one hell of a price for a thing that can’t keep time as well as a $25 timex and is less reliable.

The usual names jumped out like Seiko, Orient, Christopher Ward, and some boutique pieces like Magrette. All interesting but none of them quite clicking. This lead to me heading to a certain forum that provides info on replica watches and boy did they have a lot on there. Any watch you could want at a decent price with minimal flaws and certainly no way for the average person to tell you didn’t spend thousands on it rather only hundreds.

Some say this leads to denying yourself something better or taking the short, easy road to satisfaction, and I wouldn’t disagree. The only issue I and many others have with this is sometimes the short and easy road is the only possible one.

One watch I fell in love with was the Rolex DeepSea Sea-Dweller D-Blue Dial. While at first I looked at it as a goal, something to aspire to, reality sunk in quickly as I realized it’s $12,350 price tag was far more than I could ever justify spending on anything smaller than a car. So I took it as a loss and looked around for an homage with the closest being a Steinhart Ocean Forty-Four which was almost a perfect replica of the regular DSSD but with the normal black dial and a few stylistic and text changes which was fine for only $440 or so. The thing is it didn’t hit the spot like the other one, I didn’t have to have it quite as much not for the name but the dial and there was nothing else like it.

So back to the info site to see what I could see and surprise surprise it’s on there, damn near perfect save for a slightly too big second hand pip, inferior movement, and I’m sure overall quality. Still I could get that look for somewhere in the range of $450 all in, just a few dollars more for exactly what I want except it would cost me a moral dilemma.

Not only would I be dealing with criminals (not violent ones mind you, I assume at least) I would be buying something that ripped off someone’s hard work, but then again really so was the Steinhart, it just had a little more modesty.

Another qualm I had was passing it down, with the rest of my other watches being genuine, would I want to pass down something that was inauthentic, fake?

What I came to really was the idea of a birthright and what’s being brought to the table. It shouldn’t be the name brand of a watch or a classic car or inheritance that has your children keeping you in your hearts but what you had to say to them, you could pass down something that wasn’t worth a nickel if it was something that you were interested in that your kids could say you got out of your life and your parenting. They wouldn’t be saying hey look at this neat Rolex my dad passed down they be saying, hey let me tell you the story behind this, let me tell you what he was interested in, what he was passionate about.

If you’re like me you haven’t paid a lot of attention to pop music lately cause you’re too busy listening to Blood on the Tracks for the fifteenth time. Although thanks to my fiance playing Today’s Hits off of Slacker I’d say if there’s any time to start listening, it would be now.

See when I think of pop music, first thing that comes into my head is some bullshit teenager or twenty something that was thrown onto the scene with overproduced music and over corrected vocals. While I don’t think the age group has changed all that much, the music certainly has and it’s coming through in the form of brutally honest lyrics and admittedly catchy music.

The first song I heard that seemed different was a very upbeat song about telling your boyfriend to leave you for some one better, already that’s something I don’t think I’ve ever heard without a thick layer of sarcasm on top. If somehow you’ve missed it take a listen (goo.gl/NcFrNV). If you’re not listening to the lyrics you’re missing the point, in short and simply Let me Go is wanting your significant other to be with someone who will actually give them all that they want while simultaneously stomping all over yourself. It’s both incredibly selfish and selfless at the same time and I’m not sure what else could possibly be called that. You want them to have more out of their significant other (if that’s any way to put it), so good on you but you’re also ignoring all of the feelings that they might still have, all just for your own satisfaction of them being happy. It’s a mixed song to say the least with the artist calling it a love song. I suppose I could agree with that, the theme of self deprecation runs into the next song on my list.

This next one comes off very tongue in cheek and while it does, it still has a string of honesty in it that most others would just shrug off in favor of something more flattering. Again if you missed it, check it out (goo.gl/6kFtqZ). Bad at Love takes a different approach, it reads as if it’s calling out her exes but takes a turn and takes responsibility for what they did. While maybe she wants to claim responsibility for picking these winners out of a crowd I feel she’s just demanding some decency while using the response as a cookie cutter to what most girls and women go through after a break up, claiming it was their fault while in reality all they wanted was to have their voice heard, even if just a little bit, while it was taken seemingly in anger and as an insult which presumably blew up the relationship. Honestly it reminds me a lot of Don’t Think Twice it’s Alright (goo.gl/uAG4LD) except its taking all the blame rather then pushing all the blame. Regardless of how you take it, it still takes some honesty and courage to throw it out there while the next one takes a self actualized look at a classic conundrum.

  Last one and probably the least consequential talks about those golden years we all look back on but with a bit of a turn taken at the end, give it a listen (goo.gl/5Xzecd). There’s nothing new to be said here, hell even the music video plays out like an eighties coming of age movie, but unlike the hundreds of forgettable ones this one is clearly Stand By Me, a classic in the genre and it’s own right. Frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if people try to capture the feel and essence of this song and fail miserably. What separates it is at the end he admits maybe he’s looking through rose tinted glasses and now is what he should be focusing on as these days will soon be some of those good old days. People have talked about wanting to go back or just reminiscing but while usually that’s done by a group of out of their prime high school football players, it comes as a surprise that these massive hit musicians would be looking at their earlier years with such longing. Whether or not you think they deserve to do that I suppose is up to you but it’s one more song that I think gives a good reason to listen to popular music these days.

Hey I’m Nick and I plan on putting up some lyric analysis and little bits and pieces of stuff I’m working on here in the next few weeks. I’m going to to start with some classic Bob Dylan that’s been done to death just to add my personal touch then see where to go from there. I look forward to some feedback and some comments on maybe what the music meant to you and your own personal experiences.