The Cairo Complex

It is absolutely abysmal outside, but I love it this way. The clouds are heavy and dark and I’m just totally distracted by the awesome occasional streaks of lightening that shock the sky full of light. Usually on days like this I like to listen to electronic music because it allows me to be the nerd that I am and pretend to be some character from a William Gibson novel, hacking my way through neo-Tokyo or some other equally cyberpunk, post-WWIII setting. Orbital, Peace Orchestra, some Moby; it just sounds right when everything is gloomy.

Today is a little different, though. I’m listening to the Foo Fighters because they take me back to a time and place about as gloomy as post-apocalyptic Japan… High school.

I remember when I picked up the Foo Fighters’ self-titled debut. Filled with Nirvana throw back type stuff but with a slightly more refined feel with the instrumentation and lyricism, I really did enjoy the album. I thought they were awesome, but all the same wouldn’t give them top billing over Green Day on my mix tapes.

It wasn’t until The Colour and the Shape, alternating between a few almost sugary pop songs and angsty ballads (truly worthy of Dave Grohl’s alum status with Nirvana), that I really started to get into the band. It was the hit single “Everlong” that got me the most, and I still kind of get emotional when I hear it today.

A few years later There’s Nothing Left to Lose came out and I finally took the plunge and started declaring the Foo Fighters my favorite band. Billy Joe Armstrong was crushed by the announcement, but he ended up being okay about it. I mean, I never gave Kerplunk the kind of play that “Aurora”, “Generator” or “Headwires” got. Those songs reflected in the Foo Fighters the type of changes I was feeling in myself. I was in the home stretch of high school, and with college around the corner, I felt tempered and introspective. Other bands just seemed too angry. Too restless. Foo Fighters were happy with where they were and where they were going, and so was I. I was growing up with the Foo Fighters.

I think it was the Foo Fighters’ chilled out junior effort that made One by One seem more like reminiscing than anything else. They played fast and loud, and tracks like the chart-topping “All My Life” and the less popular but just as hard hitting “Low”, were exactly the kind of songs I would’ve killed to hear in high school but could appreciate as a slightly older and much more matured college kid.

By the time In Your Honor came out, my expectations were sky high for my band of choice. They delivered for the most part, but for its length (the album was actually a two CD set with one side done almost entirely acoustically), it wasn’t as epic as I would’ve hoped. Sure, there were a couple of ridiculously good songs, and the release of almost all of the Pocketwatch (Dave Grohol’s one-man Foo Fighters demo) tracks was much appreciated, but maybe my expectations were far too high.

Fast forward to now. It’s been about three years, and the release of Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace is only a month off (right along with the new Kanye, woo!). I’m trying not to get too excited about the new release for fear of being a little let down like with …Honor, but on days like this when the rain’s just pouring and I can’t help but take a little mental vacation through my years with the Foo, it’s hard not to.    

I was totally taken by a girl during my commute today. Shoulder length dark brown hair that would be black in a tunnel, but caught the light in just the right way above ground to flash a rich reflection of warm caramel. Eyes, just as dark and inviting. Her mouth was perfect with lips that tempted with their fullness and cut with their sharp symmetry. And a nose and chin held with just the slightest tilt so as to assert the need for royal treatment without seeming altogether snooty about it.

I was ethralled with her presence. Commanded by her aura. Instantly obcessed.

I timed my exit from the train to coincide with her’s near the escalator. She was only a few feet ahead of me. We both moved to the left hand side, and I strided forward to meet her and maybe begin a conversation that would lead to who knows what magical fairy tale.

And then I realised her feet were firmly planted, and that she seemingly had no intention of moving…

I quickly cut around and passed her. I don’t have time for people who ignore basic DC metro ettiquette.  

I recently found out that Kanye West’s newest album, Graduation, is going to drop this coming September and it’s reignited my fascination with the guy. I say fascination because that’s exactly what overtakes me when I put in one of his CDs or when there’s mention of him in the media. I mean, the guy is way over the top and a bit megalomaniacal, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not at least iconic within the hip-hop world. Sure, I don’t think he deserves to be in the Bible (as he’s been quoted as believing), but in the encyclopedia of rap he definitely should be granted a big entry.

What it is about Kanye that keeps me interested in him is his unique back story which, in my opinion, more than once has come off rather convincingly as an actual personality and not just a media persona. “Upper-middle class suburban youth gains local fame with production efforts to later struggle through the backdoor of front stage fame only to end up making a splash on nearly all fronts” sounds like it’s a potential cliche. I thought the whole car crash making him reconsider faith arc was especially overdone.

But then his overly-emotional outburst following the Hurricane Katrina incident, made me wonder if this guy wasn’t truly a talented guy with actual emotions, and not just a shill. Most people bashed Kanye for his, admittedly, inappropriate comments (in regards to the forum in which they were expressed, not the message itself). I quietly admired him for when his mask of celebrity slipped and it became obvious that he was a guy who realized he was lucky in life and that a lot of other people weren’t. The obvious nervousness in his voice and demeanor spoke of how scared and confused he was and, though tragically misguided, he was a bit brave to speak up about what he really thought, when everyone else just wanted him to read from a prompter.

Now, I’m not defending the guy. Every man speaks only for himself, and when he spoke that night it wasn’t quite as eloquent as I would’ve expected. I’m just saying it’s refreshing to see someone rise out of a predominantly manufactured environment and prove to not be made of plastic. It makes his songs sound better when you can listen to them and realize that they tell an actual saga and not just a story cooked up in a boardroom.

I’m looking forward to the new album, and only hope that Kanye can deliver again the same type of production mastery, and near-Shakespearean word play that I’ve grown accustomed to with College Dropout and Late Registration.