LBRY Block Explorer

LBRY Claims • Mark-Kozelek-2018

f4b5b3ef5213bc905d12e2e799e4c15f73b8f887

Published By
Created On
16 Feb 2022 03:37:26 UTC
Transaction ID
Cost
Safe for Work
Free
Yes
MARK KOZELEK - Mark Kozelek [FULL ALBUM, INDIE 2018]
“The Mark Kozelek Museum” appears on Mark Kozelek’s new album Mark Kozelek, his latest collection of songs as Yelp reviews. It is a ten-and-a-half minute inventory of Mark Kozelek heirlooms: crystals taken from a chandelier at Jim Morrison’s Florida State University house, the “innocent memory” of hearing “I just fucked my favorite lead singer” during a consensual tryst in the ’90s, a guitar solo in the style of Yes’ Steve Howe, an experiment with the melodic qualities of the word “diarrhea” and a backstage encounter with his “brother in music” Ariel Pink. “No one can accuse me or Ariel Pink of ever being boring,” he croons and “The Mark Kozelek Museum” is by turns psychedelically boring and mesmerizing. It’s about nothing and also somehow everything.

Mark Kozelek is nearly an hour and a half monument to nothingness. Can even the most diligent curators of the Mark Kozelek legacy justify its existence after five releases of nearly the same exact style in 2017 alone? As he reaches a prolificacy that would give Robert Pollard a stress ulcer, the challenge lies in discerning the incremental differences between one dispatch of songs about sandwiches and Scarface and boxing and another.

The most important thing to know about Mark Kozelek is that it really is truth in advertising—whereas all of his collaborations were essentially Kozelek doing his thing over exactly what you’d expect (distended doomgaze with Jesu, post-rock abstraction with Jim White and Ben Boye), here it’s just him and his latest new toy, looping devices that allow him to recreate the thump of his drum machines on album highlight “Live in Chicago” and stretch “diarrhea” into a ten-second rhythmic bed. It is kind of a pretty word when stripped of its meaning.

At least for now, it appears that he’s lost interest in the 8-bit synths and boom-bap that turned some of Common as Light and Love Are Red Valleys of Blood into appointment listening, the closest thing we’ll ever hear to an actual Sun Kil Moon rap album. That record’s tenuous adjacence to hip-hop results in this self-titled album’s most self-mythologizing moment—Kozelek happens upon someone listening to Common as Light and Love on Spotify, who not only doesn’t recognize Kozelek, but Kozelek doesn’t recognize it himself. This whole delirious exchange is a result of Kozelek being in the grips of a sunstroke caused by him getting a little too careless, dancing in his backyard with his weed whacker (commemorated on “Weed Whacker,” naturally).

It has a lot of competition for this album’s moment of peak of absurdity—he quotes a stray line of 2Pac dialogue from Biggie & Tupac because he runs out of words following a riff about Al Gore’s thoughts on Donald Trump, a fan working at a bookstore jokes about them going to Panera Bread and another patron calls their bluff by saying there actually is one in San Francisco now. Kozelek ends up getting kicked out the store. It’s a long story itself and a longer story about how it fits perfectly into the gorgeous devotional “My Love for You Is Undying”—it takes about 13 minutes to tell it.

And yet, the idea that we’re supposed to be laughing at Kozelek underestimates the cagey brilliance that often accompanies these songs. On “Live in Chicago,” the specific resonance of playing his own song, the heartbreaking “Needles Disney World” in Orlando is soon overshadowed by the uncomfortable introduction of a song giving tribute to the Pulse nightclub victims a year after the fact. Most songwriters would struggle to find the proper metaphor or conceptual framework to honor the victims of gun violence and our desensitization to its regularity without sensationalizing it—Kozelek trusts common language over poetry, looking at the hearty succulents that serve as memorials and “the contrast of the beautiful Florida sun and its laws supporting guns.”

Who else is writing songs about the way a devastating sports outcome can affect the local economy? Kozelek claims to be too ignorant of football to comment on the Saints’ catastrophic playoff loss that happened about four months before this album’s release, but he’s able to rattle off a reminder of their contributions to food and music as consolation (specifically, “crawfish etouffee and Phil Anselmo and Lil Wayne”). Sure, the personification of the San Francisco fog on April’s ”Lost Verses” was heartbreakingly gorgeous, but saying it’s “like [how] Bon Scott’s soul hovers over Perth” and “like a bunch of grandmothers moving through Woolworth’s” is something no one else would even attempt.
Author
Content Type
Unspecified
video/mp4
Language
English
Open in LBRY

More from the publisher

Controlling
VIDEO
THE S
VIDEO
LYNYR
Controlling
VIDEO
KÍLA
Controlling
VIDEO
CROSB
VIDEO
PYOTR
Controlling
VIDEO
VAN H
Controlling
VIDEO
65DAY
Controlling
VIDEO
65DAY
Controlling
VIDEO
JIMMY