Brand new. It’s a brand new release and Ben Haskins is brand new to me. Mothership was a YouTube suggestion after listening to a few post-rock offerings from this or that person. None really pulled me in like this one did. Maybe it’s the wide open space and ambiance? Hard to say why some music draws me in and some dissipates like mist into background sound. This one is moody and chill. It’s layered but in no way cluttered. It works… for me.

I was reading through a few entries from this time last year. Some of them sound angry and a bit addled, I believe in reaction to everything going on at the time. A certain survivalist instinct had kicked in for sure and it took a bit to settle into new routines, but a lot of it was becoming acclimated to the fear and tension around me. It’s evident, reading into the later spring and summer that with a few crazy upheavals and outbursts from people around me that things, at least with me, were easing up. It may sound like ego, but it’s true. While everyone else was becoming accustomed to living in fear and uncertainty, I had to become accustomed to their fearfulness. Some of my actions and words were lacking in grace, for sure. My instincts were to withdraw and be left alone. They were going through things that I couldn’t really help with. It wasn’t about being uncaring so much as it was about caring too much and feeling helpless to make it better. The posts do reflect, now upon reflection, that it took me a while to settle into my standard, daily moodiness. Insert smiley face here. I was born a crabby, old dude. Always been that way and probably always will be. I’m okay. Baby, I was born this way.

Sooner or later, and probably sooner, I’m going to have to re-acclimate to the routines from before. Commuting. Dealing with people head on and not through digital video filters and phones. Expect some crabbiness. Insert second smiley face here.

One of the reasons I keep a blog, other than my digital vanity, is to keep these mile markers to remember my way back to where I was at any point in time. They track progress, or sometimes regression. They map that path from past to present to future, and back. It is helpful to go back and look at events and feelings from the distance of time. It is, of course, about the music and films and books and art as well, but it’s also about the events and feelings that brought me to all of that and how they helped me ease through whatever it was, good or bad, that was going on. Looking back now, most of it was good, but there were moments of serious tension when navigating people was like sliding down a cheese grater. Oddly, or maybe not, the wounds were not real.

Some of it was growing pains for me also. Some of the posts reflect my dis-ease with with where I found myself at any given moment. They’re good reminders that whatever a person is going through, good or bad, bad or good, it’s not going to last. Reminders to stay in the moment. To grab hold of an anchor when necessary, and to let go. Usually they’re about letting go and not fighting it.

Let go or be dragged, is what The Crocodiles say. They are wise old creatures.

Any day in your life has many layers, like this music. Sometimes the layers all hash together into a wall of dissonance. Other times, like this album they are a tapestry of colorful threads and you marvel at them from various distances. One step forward or back when you’re looking straight at it changes the view entirely. Sometimes when you are too close it can create a fearful image. Step back and the whole picture appears again. Be willing to view any day or event from various distances until you get the right one.

Selah.