Coming from Copenhagen, Trentemøller is an older name for the electronic scene. However, despite the rapidly evolving genre, his music still remains powerful and unique. With a track title like “Take Me Into Your Skin,” you can expect a deep and intimate sound. Trentemøller delivers just that – the track builds and evolves with a variety of complex emotions. The song is a journey, and much like our own, the shifts can be either abrupt or steady.
The routine: An appealing and deceitful character. Like a truly great friend, the routine will always be there. It is never cruel, never demanding and always humble. Yet its crimes are incremental, constantly pouring sand into a finite glass.
Today I broke my routine. I knew I would when my third alarm rang and I looked outside. It was snowing. Today I would not wear the slowly fading sneakers I bought online a few months ago. Today I would wear boots.
For anyone who grew up skiing, and especially those that grew up on the East, you will be familiar with that unique hunger that arises during the first good downfall. Coworkers and friends share the latest gnar on YouTube. Exaggerated stories and photos from old powder days are dug up. Memories of daring moments bring forth a new swagger, and that swagger beckons courage for the season ahead. Each year the playlist changes and the routine is broken.
This year, this year will be the year I carve harder, huck higher, and generally toss my body to the mountain.
I fell in love with music in 2004. A brace-faced, energetic rabble-rouser struggling to adjust to the combination of some difficult changes at home as well as the awkwardness of middle-school, I had recently acquired two powerful tools that helped make everything right: Creative 5.1 surround speakers and a Gateway computer.
The speakers were duck-taped to each corner of my box shaped room, ensuring that the emitted sound painted every inch of the walls. The computer, a hand-me-down from my brother, was equipped with a library of a few thousand songs and Napster, the most infamous computer program in the music industry. For me, it meant an endless catalogue of easily accessible music.
Many hours were spent perusing through websites and forums, searching for “similar artists” as I traveled down a strange rabbit hole of sound. Parsing through the spam, bootlegs, and uninspired songs, eventually I’d find it – the rare gem that both confused me and inexplicably moved me. Rock, Blues, Folk, Reggae, Ska, Punk, Prog-Rock…
At that time, musical movement came in violent furies of passion, which is an eloquent way of saying my shrill prepubescent voice and pale, emaciated body had all the best intentions but none of the required attributes.
Yet safe in my personal box of a room, I was a hero.
All knobs turned to full volume, I’d stand on my chair and wail on a non-existent drum set, guitar or microphone. I’d put my foot on the back of the chair and tilt forward, crashing into the bed at the song’s climax. Shaking off the bruised knee and a brief sense of lameness, I’d dive back into the song full force.
I lived on a quiet road by a wooded area. On the off chance a walker-by heard the muffled cacophony from my room and looked through the window I imagine they’d feel extremely uncomfortable – a combination of guilt from having invaded a personal space and second-hand embarrassment from witnessing such an awkward passion.
Yet my imagined world was far more important than the reality. I was jamming, I loved it, there was no place I’d rather be, and the window to my street was too small to contain my dancing fervor.
Anyway, here’s two cool songs from The Rural Alberta Advantage. I’d be remiss to not say that tonight they’ve reinvigorated my propensity toward air instruments and in-room theatrics. With my window looking out to the Marcy ave train stop, I’m sure I’ve made a few commuters either laugh or roll their eyes.
Still, there’s no better way I could have spent the last half hour than reverberating off the walls to these two heroic tales.