David Bazan should be taught in school. At least, I think I would have gotten more out of my high school education if it'd been something like "equal parts David Bazan and curriculum."
I have wanted to write so much about David Bazan for a year now, and kept on putting it off because it's hard to shoulder writing about something that means a lot to you. I just got back from his Living Room show in Allston, MA, and I'm still buzzing from the experience, so this seems like a good time.
Being a fan of music has really defined my lifestyle, and it was amazing to be in an environment with so many similar people. Most of my friends don't really "get" going to show after show after show; most of the time I really do just buy two tickets to a show and try to find someone to go with (which is crazy because I go to so many good shows). And then to be put in a room full of people who totally get it! I just experienced a wonderful kind of renewal in excitement about experiencing music. Being into music, going to shows, and so on is just like any other hobby or thing you loveit can get tedious and at times feel like a chore. The same routine of printing out tickets and getting directions, driving, sitting around, waiting, getting tired, driving back, and so on. It's a lot, especially if most of the shows you go to are a 1-3 hour commute away. Tonight reminded me that music is more than just the sum of its parts, and it's these kinds of reminders that keep me living the life that I do.
I happened to be the first person (besides the hosts) to arrive at the show, so I got to spend about an hour hanging out before the rest of the crowd showed up. The hosts were absolutely wonderful people and fans, and not only provided a comfortable and welcoming environment, but bought pizza, cupcakes, soda, beer, and candy for everyone. One of the hosts in question is in fact the writer of Bradley's Almanac, a Boston-based music blog that you should all peruse.
As soon as David Bazan walked to the front of the living room and took his guitar out, I felt this unbelievable drop in my stomach. He opened with "Strange Negotiations," the title track from his upcoming release. It's hard to mentally recap a song after only seeing and hearing it once, but the only thing "Strange Negotiations" and other new songs left to be desired was a copy of the record. I can't remember every song, but he also played "Please Baby Please," "Hard to Be," "Cold Beer and Cigarettes," and "Priests and Paramedics." The entire night felt more like a running conversation between the audience and Bazan than a normal show. David paused after every few songs to kindly ask if there were any questions or concerns from anyone in the audience.
It's faster to buy cigarettes and some cold beer
If you don't rattle the cashier
By asking her back to your room
She's calling security
The show went by so quickly that when David announced that there were only a few more songs left I thought it was crazy that it was ending so early. I had a few moments of nervousness because I wanted very badly to hear "Bearing Witness" but was scared of being denied a request (and I felt hesitant to be the only audience member to ask for a request) but I also knew that I would have felt terrible if I didn't request it and he never played it. I think he'd just finished playing "Please Baby Please," which ended up being the penultimate song, when I shyly raised my hand and asked, "Would you consider a request?" He politely said that yes, he would, and I asked for "Bearing Witness."
When he agreed to the request, I experienced a kind of emotional rush that I often associate with music, but don't experience very frequently because it is so intense. I think a lot about how our reactions seem often like memories of reactions; when I hear of a tragedy, I immediately relate and sympathize, but I don't constantly feel that pain. Sometimes I feel it and sometimes I just know that it's there. Last night I really felt it. I actually had to work really hard to stop myself from crying during "Bearing Witness," which ended up being the last song of the night.
As soon as the set ended, I clumsily told David that I've extracted more valuable wisdom just from "Bearing Witness" than I have from anything else for months, if not years. And it's just true. If I was ever the kind of person to get a verse tattooed on my body somewhere, it would probably be this one,
Though it may alienate your family
and blur the lines of your identity
Let go of what you know and honor what exists
Son, that's what bearing witness is
Daughter, that's what bearing witness is
More specifically, I would get Let go of what you know and honor what exists but I think it's nice to read it in context of the verse. This one line really has been my mantra for a long time. Whenever I have been angry or confused, or felt lost or hopeless, I've repeated this piece of advice to myself, and I've usually been able to come back to a place of clarity and peace. I'm reminded of a Jewish spirituality book that I like to read, in which the author discusses forgiveness. Forgiveness is none of the following: acceptance, denial, revenge. It's just letting go.
A video of "Bearing Witness" from a living room show in Portland, with much more instrumentation than last night (and the same amount of spirit).
Whether it's religion or our "heteronormative society" or our other terrible societies it's crazy to think of how many presumptions we all have. However enlightened and positive I feel I am, I feel that every day when I get dressed in the morning, I also put on and carry around so many convictions about how I'm positive the world should be. And I let it get in the way of living. I probably wouldn't be able to count the number of times each day I let my convictions, "what I know," disrupt what would be a more congruent lifestyle; but my fingers are so tightly molded around the things I'm sure of that I don't have the strength to open my fists and let go. And that's what this song is to me. I can't express enough gratitude toward David Bazan for writing this song, and for taking my request last night, especially when he was only going to play one more song.
Throughout the night there was a lot of interesting dialogue between David and the audience. I resonate really deeply with David Bazan's attitude toward the music industry. I want to spend my money on his concerts and merchandise because it feels so sincere, because I can see what I'm supporting and not doubt that it's something I believe in. The host asked about the short length of time it took David to record Strange Negotiations, and also about the short gap between the announcement and release of the record. David replied that much of the motivation for the small amount of time between the announcement and release is making sure the fans, and the people who are really supporting the music, are a priority. He brought up such a good point: why should a handful of elite music journalists get to listen to the record months before the fans, the people who really care about and are supporting the music? (I'm not implying that these groups are mutually exclusive, but am broadly summarizing a scenario.) You might recall David Bazan asking for donations (or rather, investments) a la I Helped Bazan Make a Record last falland I agree with the man, the people who care so much they'll give an artist an advance on his record are the people who are going to bring more fans in than any kind of publicity stunt.
David's set made me feel extremely excited for the release of Strange Negotiations next month, and for his full-band tour this summer. But even so, and even though it's been a while, I'm still beyond excited about Curse Your Branches.
One of the anecdotes that I recalled from the night was David discussing his views toward "bad people" and how they relate to reality. He said that he used to sort of shrug off others' flaws under a blanket, "we're all bad," kind of logic. But then, he said, he realized, you know what? That's just not accurate. For example, George W. Bush is directly responsible for the deaths of countless innocent people. And he, David Bazan, just isn't. One of my first reactions is YES. I'm reminded of the paradox that arises when faced with others who believe, as Bazan might say, crazy batshit things. But there's some kind of line between tolerating all viewpoints and giving people freedom to express themselves and between tolerating intolerance. And these are the lines between what we know and what exists, and the tricky bit is how difficult it is to locate exactly where these lines are.
I think everyone in America should own a copy of Curse Your Branches. I've been deeply hurt and have lost a lot to the ignorance and evil and fear that manifests itself as evangelical, fundamentalist Christianity. And for me there are days when this album, and David Bazan's story, are the only things that can break through that and remind me that there's a real world out there, too.
So if it starts to get you down
Just pretend
That you don't make your living
From selling advertising
Tracking trends, corralling demographics,
And maximizing traffic
I once attended a gathering of Seventh-Day Adventists, and heard a sermon in which the speaker asked everyone in the audience to pray for a "gain" of at least 6,000 more souls that year. (Note: I'm not trying to single out SDA, I am simply including the detail.) And it's just like damn. I remember glancing around the audience to see many people nodding along with the figure, and I had to wonder if there was some kind of reward program for whoever brought in the most souls.
"Bearing Witness" is such a meaningful song to me because there is both so much good and so much evil contained in the very idea of bearing witness. I grew up in a somewhat Jewish, somewhat secular environment, and was never exposed to the idea of bearing witness until late in high school. I'm guessing that as popular as the concept is, there are still tons of people like me who never heard of it. I think this kind of thing is the worst of it: if you're a Christian, when you meet another person, you should feel responsible to bear witness about the good news of Jesus Christ to that person, and if you don't, and that person never knows Jesus, their unsaved soul is on your shoulders because "you might be the only Christian they ever meet." This concept was entirely flabbergasting to me because I had never understood religion as a place which contained so much guilt.
What I think is difficult is the idea of bearing witness isn't altogether evil; in fact, I think I am always striving to do a better job of "bearing witness" to the things I believe in. But doing it right is much deeper than trying to convince someone else that they need to start thinking the way you do about things. I feel an innate responsibility to do justice and live up to what I love, the things and the people in my life, because my idea is that if I am as filled with joy as I claim to be by these things, it's my responsibility to do something with it that will help another person in a meaningful way. And that is what bearing witness can be.
If we rounded up people in 2011 to brand as modern day "prophets," I would nominate David Bazan, because the world would be a better place if more people took in the messages and lessons in his music, and I say this whether these people are Christians "caught up in their own false image of God" (Martin Buber) or the opposite or anywhere in between. He has some of the best and clearest writing in music today, and one of the most organic and sincere business models in the industry.
David Bazan is embarking on a rather thorough US Summer Tour this June, and I think you'd all be crazy not to come out. Here are the dates:
06/01 Wed Salt Lake City UT Kilby Court
06/02 Thu Denver CO Hi Dive
06/03 Fri Kansas City MO Record Bar
06/04 Sat Council Bluffs IA Westfair Amphitheater w/ Bright Eyes
06/06 Mon St Paul MN Turf Club
06/08 Wed Chicago IL Lincoln Hall
06/10 Fri St Louis MO Old Rock House
06/11 Sat Columbus OH The Basement
06/12 Sun Akron OH Musica
06/13 Mon Pontiac MI Pike Room
06/14 Tue Toronto ON Lees Palace
06/15 Wed Ottawa ON Mavericks
06/17 Fri Ithaca NY The Haunt
06/18 Sat Hamden CT The Space
06/19 Sun Cambridge MA TT the Bears
06/22 Wed New York NY Bowery Ballroom
06/23 Thu Philadelphia PA Johnny Brendas
06/24 Fri Washington DC Black Cat
06/25 Sat Chapel Hill NC Local 506 w/ Centro-matic
06/27 Mon Orlando FL The Social
06/28 Tue Atlanta GA The Earl
06/29 Wed Birmingham AL The Bottletree
06/30 Thu New Orleans LA One Eyed Jacks
07/01 Fri Baton Rouge LA Spanish Moon
07/02 Sat Houston TX Fitzgeralds
07/03 Sun Denton TX Dans Silverleaf
07/05 Tue Austin TX ACL Satellite Sets
07/07 Thu Phoenix AZ Sail Inn
07/08 Fri San Diego CA Casbah
07/09 Sat Long Beach CA Alexs Bar
07/10 Sun Los Angeles CA Troubadour
07/12 Tue Visalia CA Cellar Door
07/13 Wed San Francisco CA The Independent
07/15 Fri Portland OR Mississippi Studios
-- David Bazan Website David Bazan Facebook David Bazan Twitter David Bazan Last.fm
It's April 1st (2nd) and simultaneously my hope for spring feels renewed and diminished. But three (four if you count the Bad Books song) stellar quality new Kevin Devine videos beat this winter's last strike, so I'm going to hang onto the renewal.
Those who have been fortunate to catch Kevin on the road this past winter will likely be familiar with this song. I am lucky to have seen it performed a few times, once during a soundcheck at The Space in Hamden, CT, which was just as lulling as the delivery on the new Nervous Engines video.
I am pretty instantly sold by "Between the Concrete and Clouds" because it features a variety of some of my favorite songwriting techniques: a time-line/parallelism, forward puns (Casper, you holy ghost), and an "evolving chorus" (I just made that term up). When I view this song in the context of some of KD's earlier material, it gets my heart a little. Something that I have noticed in a lot of seasoned songwriters' catalogs is this kind of transition that occurs in perspectives of their narratives. If you listen to earlier Kevin Devine, stuff like "Noose Dressed Like a Necklace" or "Me and My Friends," it feels more confessional, it feels like the speaker is asking for guidance more than providing itat least directly. With "Between the Concrete and Clouds," I really hear Kevin Devine making the shift to the other side of the things. He's still asking questions, but there's something more seasoned about it than a lot of the material he's put out before. I always find Kevin Devine songs inspiring, but here I feel like the inspiration is coming from something more separate from myself, from a place I haven't seen yet, when quite often I find inspiration in being assured that someone else feels like this too so it must be okay somehowstuff that comes from places I've been to before.
God in the wood, the words, the coffee pot
It wasn't adding up
At war with yourself, afraid of everyone
You said, "Enough's enough."
The writing is also more structured than a lot of Devine's other songs. He performs the chorus something like four times and without counting, I'd say most KD songs don't even have one chorus. Kevin has indicated that this album is more compact (I am taking liberty with this wording) than his previous releases, and I can already hear that on this song. Without looking (read: listening) I'm also trying to recall some landmark KD tracks that are in minor keys, and I can't think of a ton. I think it's often harder to make the minor work (because the major works so well) and it's not a surprise that Kevin is able to nail it (what helps make it work is a lot of interesting chord choices that are not in the key, and the chorus uses typical major chords, and the contrast makes both the chorus and the verses feel fresher).
Now every single time that you open your mouth
Give yourself a breath while you're working it out
The answer's in between all the concrete and clouds
It's anywhere you want
Yeah, it's next to you now?
Each derivation of the chorus becomes a little more hopeful, and at the end the approach is pedagogical, and I'm inspired because someone who I know has been in my shoes, or near them, at least, is telling me I can take a breath.
"Luxembourg" more closely follows KD's stylistic norm: lyrics that could be poetry and verse after verse after verse, but somehow just as captivating as a song with more than one chord progression.
I have weaknesses like all my brothers do
An objectifying eye and hands that follow suit
Some ugly allergy to the true love on my plate
Wrong wiring, connections I can't make
I feel like there's more packed into every verse of this song than there is on most records; the lyrical craft in this song is simply phenomenal. I've personally found that it is a struggle to experience as opposed to collect experience. To me, the speaker of this song is someone who's become too caught up in the collecting; stocking life's staples, things like love, up on a shelf or mantle to display because we know they're supposed to be important somehow.
She seemed satisfied in the corner of the frame
Until she turned to me, said "I need to walk away
Speak no argument, you're nowhere close to sure;
I'm sorry, but, I don't have time for sorry anymore."
Objectification remains a theme throughout the whole song. It's always interesting to note how artists use similar images in different ways; I'm reminded of another Devine song with a reference to a picture: We could be a snapshot, framed and hung like a portrait / What if that's true and I'm the only one who knows it? from "Tap Dance." I guess I'll go even more poetry on you guyslike the picture he covets, the speaker too is frozen in his life, unable to really move with the love that is moving on.
I felt I was in debt
Each night spent in your bed
A dream I let drop dead
And never had again
Almost immediately "11.17.10" reminds me of Brand New, something in the way of the demos for "Sowing Season." I think it's the power chords at the beginning, and the way this track builds from the muffled guitar and whisper to the full chords and exclamations. Out of the three, this is the one I'm most excited to hear (and see) the full-band version of. And structurally, this falls somewhere in between the first two; the running verses like in "Luxembourg," but (based on these performances) there's a greater dynamic range and so a lot more contrast throughout this song.
Sour grapes when the joke goes bad
Same smirk, same bullshit laugh
It's the egg on my face when I can't go back
I didn't plan for that
This last verse contains some of my favorite imagery in the song. That might be because when I read into it literally I really relate; I'm frequently facing that empty silence of going too far when I really didn't mean to and not knowing how to take it back. Also, it's because this is just good writing.
So I think whatever he planned for, everyone who's paying attention is more than excited for Kevin Devine's sixth full-length release.
What can you do now? While you're waiting, you should order Part of the Whole and Luxembourg while you still can. AND GO TO THE SHOWS.
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It's been a long time since I've been so quickly captured by new music. It's also been a long time since I've wanted to describe something as 'ohmygodyes' or 'INEEDTHISNOW' but the debut album from Hannah & Maggie starts all those clocks over again.
It isn't hard to throw around a bunch of descriptors: acoustic, folk, songwritey, harmony, melodic, beautiful, so on and so on. Fine Being Here is all of those. It's packed with friendly hammer-ons and chords in the C position, walking bass lines, brushed snare hits, and some of the best harmony that I'm sure many of us have heard in a long time. But what makes this record something that I want to listen to on repeat (for hours) is something even less tangible: chemistry. And if I had to pick one word to describe this music, it would be inviting. The harmony and guitars sound improvised but not messy; everything feels natural. When I'm listening, I can easily imagine another voice here or another small melody there, but not because the music is empty, because it's so welcoming. Like being assured that there is more than enough to go around when you're not sure if you're a burden in a situation.
The record clocks in at a short 35 minutes and stays strong the whole way through. It's hard for me to know which tracks to discuss because they are all so strong. When a song really puts me in a daze, I like to pull up the lyrics and listen and read along and then make about 20 facebook statuses and like, sign into AIM and put it on my away message via high school, and I want to do that with all of these songs. You know? Some records make you really want to violate that one-track-per-artist rule (is that a rule?) for mixes. You know?
In a world where it seems like everyone is constantly focusing on getting to "that next step" (like college, and probably after college) it's refreshing to hear the title track, "Fine Being Here." The chorus goes,
Seems like everyone's waiting for something better to start
But we're fine being here, yeah we're happy right where we are
If it was up to me I don't think I'd ever move on
But it's out of our hands so let's try our best to hold on
and a lot of the writing on the CD is like this. If you single out any line, it feels sort of like a cliche--abstract writing without a lot of images. But doing that doesn't give you the right picture. There's such a flow to this writing and singing that I can imagine each line tumbling naturally in place after the next, and suddenly I stop thinking of the writing as "a little colloquial" and start thinking of the verses as a lot like home. And that's what this record is. It's a place you can come to when you're not quite sure how things are going to turn out and rest your head and hear a voice that tells you that whatever's going on, it can be okay.
"The Land & The Sea" shifts away from the kind of language in "Fine Being Here" and it might be my favorite on the CD. They mention whiskey, wine, and Rome...ALL IN ONE SONG. "She's in my blood and in my bones / She feels brand new and just like home" is haunting and stands out as one of the best couplets on the album. The spirit of the song is overall hopeful and in the heart of being fine being here, but it's got a heartbreaking melancholy to it that just sort of makes you stare off into space for minutes, trying to figure out how something can be so heartbreaking and joyful all at the same time. A lot of the songs on this album will probably break your heart, but it's pretty hard to love something and not let it break your heart a little bit.
And although we may find that these miles are unkind
There are roads left to Rome and we will take our sweet, sweet time
Sticking pins in the map, drinking whiskey, drinking wine
If you stay with me I will make it worth your time
Before I go into an uncontrolled spree (as I like to do) and write four paragraphs about every song, I want to mention "Not the One" and "Lessons in Gravity." The first is an account of what it feels like to lose yourself in a relationship, seeing things unravel when they're still sort of raveled and not knowing how to stop it, and not knowing if that's okay. And "Lessons in Gravity" is just so gorgeous. Plus, I love any song that mentions laundry. Another thing I love about this album is the smooth transitions between verses and choruses. Sometimes it's nice not to have an epically huge dynamic change between the two; letting them just flow together allows for the music to really breathe.
And I wear my hair short now
but I still sing the songs I wrote with a ponytail
to prove that I know how
The album ends with the abrupt, under-two-minutes "Syncopate, Syncopate" where both sing, "And I think we're gonna make it after all," and yes, I think they are, too. So you guys, get this record. Everyone. I've listened to Fine Being Here about twenty times in the past week, and I don't want to be the only one.
The other night my roommate walked in while I was sitting on my computer listening to music and asked, "Oh, is that Guster?"
Nope.
It's The Sun Parade.
The self-titled debut kicks off with the current single, "Need You By My Side," and it's a perfect folk-pop tune if there ever was one. Over a lively rhythmic pulse of drums and acoustic guitar, Chris Jennings sings, Could you please be my constant / 'Cause I have fifteen thoughts at a time and whether it's a nod to LOST or algebra or both (or neither), it's guaranteed to get stuck in your head for days at a time.
"Waiting for Life to Drastically Change" has the jangly kind of rhythm to it that makes songs like Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours" so memorable, and it's the kind of tune you can imagine yourself rocking back and forth to, maybe off on a boat somewhere. "Leaving the Nation" introduces some pretty prominent electric guitar, and is about as punky as this EP gets. He even starts out by singing about pretty girls. And of course I love it, because I love anything that's pumped up enough to make me feel like I'm part of some kind of revolution or mass rebellion, without actually having to leave my bedroom.
The EP slows down with the apreggiated ballad, "Nobody's Gonna Love You." This track is an excellent showcase of Jennings's vocal abilities. It's darker, more stripped down, more minor-y than the tracks before and it works especially well placed after the charged "Leaving the Nation." I think the simple pairing of the vocals and guitar are especially effective here; it's wonderful to be able to really listen to how the support works, back and forth, between both instruments.
"Talking to Myself," the penultimate track, pops back in with group harmony, and it's carried by a crunchy combination of piano and electric guitar. Like the other tracks on the EP, this song offers something from the Parade we haven't seen before, but doesn't stray far enough from the spirit and core of the music to make it feel out of place.
The EP is closes out with "No Expectations," the longest track, clocking in at 6:52. "No Expectations" builds like no other song on the EP does, and it's as if it's included to make sure that as skilled as these guys are at crafting quick, catchy, and lovely folk-pop songs, they've also got more things on their minds. The electric guitar in this track has a sonic quality, that meshes well with the hits of the acoustic guitar, and Jennings explores the higher end of his range at greater length than before. There's a quiet (and wonderful) explosion into group vocals and guitars before the song fades out again the EP comes to a finish.
Overall, The Sun Parade is a charming, friendly debut from a band that I'm sure many people are eager to hear more of. To me, it's refreshing to hear some new music that keeps songwriting so closely at its heart. The songs are thoroughly explored, but not overdone, and that's important. It'd be nice to have a full-length from these guys, but at least with an EP, you can circle back around to track one before you know it.
The other day I was talking to a friend and I realized that if I did everything I wanted to do each day, I'd probably die. No big deal, right? There's some part of me that thinks I should have time for all these activities, every single day: reading, writing, playing guitar, playing piano, playing drums, exercising (climbing/running), doing math, and maybe eating and friends. Every new semester at Smith, I'm convinced that if I stare hard enough at my Google calendar, I can get this done.
This semester I started by drafting a rough outline of how I'd like to spend my time outside of classes--which I currently have a lot of, only having class three days a week. It didn't go well. If I scheduled a practice session for myself from 9-12, I felt guilty if I didn't make it to the music building until 9:20, and then again if I got hungry or tired at 11 or 11:30. I spent a few more weeks telling myself the exact schedule was just a guideline I could go by to inspire myself. Then I let go. A couple years ago I made this graph and still it's accurate to the lengths I go to to try to control my life:
By attempting to meticulously outline all my activities and goals, I appear to have guaranteed myself success: just look at the calendar a month from now and obviously I'll be that much closer to all my goals. In this kind of thinking, I'm lying to myself about how much I can take on at once. I go too far with planning and time management that I lose sight of the fact that the point isn't to reach some set of "goals," however concrete or abstract they happen to be. To me, the point of having goals is to change my daily habits to a point where I'm consistently living in alignment with becoming the person I want to be.
My attitude significantly shifted when I started focusing on the idea of managing my energy instead of my time. Inside looking out, it makes total sense. For the past five days, I've been sick in bed. I've had TONS OF TIME. In the past week I've been to two full classes (those of you who know me, I seem to be saying that a lot lately) and I've not done much else. Oh, I finished The L Word and downed (if this is the right verb) about 100 cough drops, but I haven't accomplished anything. I've had plenty of time, but simply no energy. Obviously this is an extreme example, but I think the idea holds even in more balanced situations.
Last semester, I took on way more than I could handle academically. What made me think I could handle 24 credits in a single semester was the mere fact that I appeared to have plenty of time to do that if I wanted to. That fact remains true. Hiding in the details is the snag that I simply don't have the energy to take this many classes. This semester I'm taking 18 credits, which is still more than a full load, and I'm no less busy than I was last semester.
One of the difficulties in this realization is letting go of things that seem like such great ideas. For example, going to the gym every morning at 6:30 sounds wonderful, especially to me. I love the mornings, and I love the idea of being an early riser. I love the idea of starting my day out with a run so I can feel energized and refreshed. But the thing is, as much as I love this idea, it just hasn't worked out this way. For whatever reason, getting up at 6:30 to run just isn't compatible with my current lifestyle. It very likely might be the winter, or the fact that I'm in college, but whatever it is, the reality just doesn't match the theory. Whenever I do end up exercising this early in the morning, I feel uncomfortable and sleepy when I start out, and then later in the morning I feel exhausted. When I sleep well, I have plenty of energy in the morning (often I feel the best) and I get the most out of exercising in the afternoon because the rush fights against midday tiredness. And that's okay. (There's always the shower dilemma, as in, if I shower when I wake up in the morning and then I exercise in the middle of the day, do I need to shower again? I say, hell no. But then, I remember to wear deodorant about twice a month, so feel free take that comment for what it's worth.)
Now, I'm taking each day and doing what I can with it. And somehow, I'm getting much more done than I was.
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