Tuesday, May 24, 2011

the ram's little heart belongs to typhoon


I’ve wanted to write about Typhoon for weeks now. I saw them on one of my favorite blogs, I am Fuel You are Friends, curated by the lovely Heather Browne - who I just KNOW is cool even though I’ve technically only had one email exchange with her. :)

I’ve been thinking about it for so long that finding the right words now seems daunting as I’ve grown to love their music so much. I don’t remember what my first impressions of them were at this point, but what I know is that with each time I listen I’m more impressed with the graceful way they wrangle the logistics of 10 people with instruments to create songs that are more than just nice to listen to but further: intimate confessions, rallying cries, celebrations of life’s lessons, and quiet moments of despair over life’s mistakes. Their lyrics deal with matters that feel very real with brave, bold strokes of string arrangements, horn blows, several guitars all strumming out rhythms and melodies, an array of percussion instruments and sometimes the voices of the entire group all at once.

KCRW has an excellent Guest DJ Project that has hosted some amazing people. One of my favorites sessions was with Annie Philbin, Director of the Hammer Museum here in Los Angeles. During her session she chose a song by The Arcade Fire (who Typhoon seems most often compared to) and explained her choice saying, “there’s something that really good artists do that has to do with capturing [the] feeling and the complex nature of childhood,” which she feels The Arcade Fire does particularly well.

In this same vein, I believe a big part of the reason those who talk about Typhoon draw comparisons to The Arcade Fire lies in their their ability to speak to the intangible small child that continues to live in each of us. While The Arcade Fire addresses these themes directly with their lyrics (most notably on their recent album The Suburbs), the ability of Typhoon to draw on themes of childhood is a little more subtle.

Something about the fantastical images in songs like “Belly Of The Cavern” (“so I drank the soil from the golden chalice”) and the playful mixing of voices like the end of “The Honest Truth” is reminiscent of childhood. Perhaps more specifically, something about Typhoon is reminiscent of the moments when one loses the innocence of childhood - feelings of simultaneous growth/the invitation to adulthood and the longing to stay put in play dates forever.



Like the note my parents still have from when one of my friends told me Santa Clause wasn’t real. My little five-year-old self (with the help of my parents) wrote asking Santa to sign a piece of paper so that I could show my friend he was indeed real, for he signed my letter.

Listening to Typhoon is like writing that letter and I truly love them for it.

Typhoon - CPR/Claws Pt 2 from Matthew Ross on Vimeo.

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