My blog is infamously streaky. Every year, I’ll go on a few tears where I churn out multiple blog posts per day, sometimes for several weeks, and then go virtually silent for a month or longer.
I’m trying to be better.
One of the hard parts is just getting back into the game. It’s like getting into a really good gym rhythm and then disappearing for two months. You really want to feel on that first day back like you didn’t miss a beat, but it quickly becomes apparent that you did, and then you wake up the next day to that sore-everywhere workout hangover.
What helps, though, is to get inspired.
Enter Chuck Klosterman’s post up on Grantland today about attending separate concerts by Creed and Nickelback on the same night:
The music of Creed is powerful. That’s not necessarily the same as “good,” but it’s something. They perform a simple trick on (seemingly) every track: A song will open with an uncomfortably subdued constriction that abruptly drops into a pulverizing wave of melodic distortion, instantly generating a hyper-real level of drama that can only be discounted if you consciously pre-decide to view the technique as preposterous. This is the central potency of the band’s songwriting, but also its downfall. The key to being appreciated by pop critics is the act of taking your own music less seriously than the people who adore it (Stephen Malkmus is probably the best contemporary example). Creed seems to exemplify the opposite. Creed seems to take itself more seriously than its own fan base does, which makes logical (but not practical) sense. Now, the reason I keep including the word “seems” is because I don’t know if this is actually true; the band might consider the entire trajectory of their career totally hilarious. But their posture is serious. As I watch them onstage, they don’t seem to be having fun in any context. The various musicians are dressed in a style best described as “business casual,” assuming their business is happening in Texas.
That last part also made me smirk.