Michael and I want to let you all know that we’re no longer posting new material on our website, Low Log. It was a defining project for both of us for the past two years and now it is time to put it to rest. We’d like to extend our warmest thanks to all our of contributors, readers, and supporters. Low Log is yours; the product of your creativity, and your brave willingness to share your work with us and the world. Also a huge thanks to Molly Goldman, who was monumental in helping to shape the poetry section of the site.
When a band has “Ghost” in their name, describing their music as haunting may seem painfully obvious, but in this case it’s unavoidable. The synthetic tones and collaged images in the video weave a pervasive digital blanket that captures and enshrouds its viewers in a mostly-purple tinted space-scape. Lyrically, the song doesn’t take on a traditional form of dedicating itself to an actual being (lover, hater, stalker, whatever) but instead opens a gate to distant dreamworld where the speaker transforms into something he doesn’t recognize. It’s as though all his familiar human elements are replaced and he emerges not a person, but a translucent body. His voice remains, deep and spooky, and eventually alternates with a woman’s voice, eerily serenading unwelcome observers with a repeated statement of awareness that leaves the listener shuttering with discomfort: I’m watching you. Watching me.
Halfway through the song the there’s a shift that - if you’ve channeled the part of you that’s weird and dark enough to be captivated by the first three, bleak minutes - offers an exciting development. The key changes and the pace picks up, and if the song-ghost was ever a singular ghost (some white sheet or plume of smoke) it’s now something even less tangible. The haunting feeling begins to emanate from countless tiny ghost-needles, starting at your toes and creeping up your feet, ankles, legs. Each one is like a memory, a moment from your past, and together they are covering you, threatening to encapsulate you in a dangerous nostalgia. And then you have two options. You can become paralyzed by the tragic moments of long-dead history, forever stuck in a cycle of useless longing and harrowing regret. Or you can confront the problem of the ghost-needles by creating a new context for them to exist in, making yourself the grateful beneficiary of a futuristic acupuncture treatment, one that allows you translate the fragments of the past into a new kind of strength that shuttles you to unexpected realms. For a while, you’re still. The tingling pins creep past your waist, relentlessly begin to prod your ribcage. Don’t be weary now, the song-ghost says. Slowly, you begin to move.
It’s hard sometimes, to want people to like you. You pride yourself on not caring anymore, doing your own thing, fuck you guys, blah blah blah. And then you have to spend a week in a beach vacation town with his parents and three siblings and you remember what high school felt like. Be funny, be…
Emma wrote this about being on vacation with her boyfriend’s family. I love reading Emma’s stuff. Is Emma my favorite writer? Here are the three things she wrote for Low Log.
Click the link above to contribute any amount (starting at $5) to help the Silent Barn fund a full-fledged renovation including new sound systems, roof reconstruction, and increased fire safety and security standards.
It’s incredible that through Kickstarter’s method of crowd-sourced funding, a tragic event can become an inspiring opportunity. Sam’s project that I mentioned yesterday was fully funded within 24 hours and they’re now hoping to double their goal. That’s one small example of how quickly good-intentioned ventures can acquire support once organizers send out a thoughtful email to people who could potentially care.
A venue that we really like got ransacked. As some people have already suggested, it seems like a Kickstarter would be a good way to raise money to restore the space and replace the equipment. Everyone knows what Kickstarter is, right? Our buddy Sam Lipshcultz is helping coordinate this documentary project about real food, which needs help.