Tag Archive | "Zunk SoundCloud"

Tags: , ,

The Habitual Adventures of Zak Freed

Posted on 06 February 2011 by Mylynda Guthrie

I wasn’t sure how long I had been asleep for, but it didn’t seem to me that I had missed very much… A breeze creeping in through the space in my poorly-installed, forty year old window frame had probably swept some kind of phantom virus in with it as well… and so then the pressure in my head naturally backed up my theory enough to satisfy the early, yet logical outlook on the reason to why I couldn’t smell my roommate’s breakfast being cooked a few feet away from me. Regardless of what my anti-winter coat might have said about my sudden cold, I had still solved a mystery that, – to my recent understanding – only the landlord’s answering machine was clearly ever going to hear about. The coffee brewed quickly and cigarettes rolled tightly while I gladly accepted the fresh and supposedly organic breakfast burrito that my Dr. Seuss pajama-clad partner in crime had presented to me: Two hundred and fifty degrees of comfort, if just for a moment.

 A nearby train slowed underground, complimenting my yawn with a screech while the sounds of that ole’ hip-hop greeted me with a smile and probably also with the cheapest beer that money couldn’t ever buy in its hands. This ruckus might not be what I would choose to listen to every single morning of my life… and as soon as I wake up… but 1B sure openly decides to jam it on a constant basis, and so I’ve naturally adapted the grimy routine as well. Ancient, pre family-oriented Ice Cube is my guilty pleasure, after all.

 We will all find rituals through our daily lives, on some level or another, and all of these little things that commonly pattern themselves out probably have more of an impact on how our days execute themselves than we might realize. Unscheduled sounds of car stereos passing by and boom-boxes under the earth while we’re out and about may plant a seed in our brains that we will search for and download later, but there will always be the go-to and often unavoidable sources for inspiration and familiar wake-up bells that will never fail us just the same.

Let’s face it: we all have favorite artists that the people around us have got to be getting sick of by now.

I was on my way to cash an incredibly insignificant check when instead I got stuck listening to this old man at the stop playing a Ruan lute. He looked the part for the sounds that it made, too… Mustaches like the one this guy had have got to hold some kind of ancient, magical power – and judging by how old this instrument in particular seemed to be to me, it probably took him two hundred thousand years to really be able to harness its glory.

 Oh, how I do love musically serendipitous days… and I can’t help but to feel blessed in those moments!

 When the iPod is dead – a traveling factor that when turned on would otherwise just have me droning around as routinely silent on an everyday trip as the other pile of faces acting the same way, staring downwards – I will always be pulled towards the ambient and common calls of this city and the sometimes life-changing impact of its super heroes.

2011 Dailies: Jan. 30th – Feb. 5th by

Comments Off

Tags: , , , , , ,

The Melodious Doctrine of Zak Freed

Posted on 18 January 2011 by Mylynda Guthrie

Melodious Doctrine

– by Zak Freed. Edited by Mylynda Nellermoe.

” as I go through each day, I make a point to document some of my own [tragedies]… and maybe theirs, should they also belong to me.”

 I think about what it means to write a song sometimes, and then how for me to get into all of the different methods or reasons involved in the many processes would take a series of novels. Still, I think that the easiest concept for anyone to grasp out of, or to put towards a tune, is the often prevalent rule of tragedy. There can’t possibly be a more common type of a reoccurring event in any given person’s life than this unwritten guideline to most compositions – whether it’s realized or not – and so as I go through each day, I make a point to document some of my own… and maybe theirs, should they also belong to me.

 It first takes something or someone bold enough to enliven my soul before any situation is able to dissolve into a dissatisfying mess of an idea. I love those instances where a day becomes everything about what was, what shouldn’t have happened and what could possibly be established again with some assertive wording. Where I would be without personal failures is a scary thought. I haven’t ever been able to fully understand and appreciate love, fun, or contentment on any level without burning some good things to the ground first. So, you know, why not select to do this every now and then?

 For every tragic line from someone that shocked my heart, there was always an awful tale that came before it. The inspiration that gave birth to a song probably started off well; then it crashed, got drunk and recorded itself in a trance… sometime after that it crawled into your ears and laid down, naked and flat, to give you another perspective on your own, incredible stories. It truly is an awesome cycle what these songs we love and/or create can and will go through. Even the good-hearted adventures will have their gritty undertones that remind you of the compulsory trials you’ve got to wade through eventually… and like I said, there’s no enjoyment without those nuisances anyway.

In all of self-expression’s grievous tones and slight moments of joviality (which at times either occasion can be set through the sacrificing of treasures held close), I will always be able to sit down afterwards, drill out a handful of speculative and sometimes rhetorical minutes, and shed light on what may become of me. The power is always turned on, my guitars are always within reach, and a blank notepad is always open while a subtle, “Dear (insert name), you are always haunting me,” leads in to most opening and terribly formal letters. Where something like that is far from being unheard of, it’s also entirely unavoidable for my type. We have all had these heart-warming bits somewhere in our lives, or at least I would like to think that. What a shame for those of you who haven’t had a proverbial wrecking ball swing through your chest – which if you haven’t, then I doubt that you’re a human, and I’m not sure how you read – but what a feeling, and what incentive  to sit down and write those times really do present to us. I figure that after saying that, my subconscious may act in collusion against itself at times to purposefully find those hapless endings – solely for the reason that I reflect back on them with sound. Some people call this self-destruction, but I call it a fools goldmine. I gain nothing, and they become immortalized through electrically taped headphones.

 My favorite part about the creation of music is how distorted the original meaning and feeling behind a song can become. This brings to mind a game that I played in pre-school, where someone is given a line that they whisper into the ear of the person next to them… and so on subsequently around the room with everyone until, in most cases, “Spaghetti and meatballs” has turned into something like… “Swarthy mermaids”. Once you reached that point there were only a handful of people, or possibly just the original whisperer that knew how it started. Everyone else just gave it their best shot. So where most songs are meant for one’s personal defining to begin with, and where some are too straight-forward for any other interpretations to evolve; I still enjoy knowing that after something of mine leaves the cutting board, I’m the only one who truly knows why it ever did.

 Incorporated styles will drive themselves in with some sort of aggressive outside force while I close my eyes over keyboards and let go of the day. That moment right there is probably more of what it’s all about than anything else.

 You sit down, take a deep breath: then light a cigarette and run a hand through the hair to shake off some stress, take a sip and let your soul do the talking.

2011 Dailies: Jan. 9th – Jan. 15th by Zunk

Comments (1)