Wanderlust II

My lust will be wandering (my wander shall not lust) about every two months or so? The period of time since my last Wanderlust post is probably more accurately described in weeks. "My lust will be wandering every 9 weeks or so" is a quotation I am more comfortable with. For my audience members scratching their heads/closing out this tab (STAY ON THIS TAB!!!), I am referring to my second blog post, chronologically, Wanderlust. This post is the second portion of Travis and Kate's Road Trip 2011 chronicles. The chronicles are of course, brought to you chronologically. But spaced out mysteriously to create chronological suspense. For those of you that have been holding your breath for Wanderlust II, I am remorseful about your blog-related death. But thank you for being a devoted blog follower. In any event, hopefully this post is a mere pleasant surprise. Previously on Wanderlust, our protagonists had just finished gallivanting around the crumbling upper-Midwestern metropolis of Detroit and were heading north on I-75 in pursuit of geographical fantasy indulgence. This indulgence was the "Upper Peninsula" of Michigan. 

I-75 Northbound through Michigan's "Lower Peninsula" wasn't without the proverbial bump in the interstate (an officer admiring our motor vehicle's velocity along the way). Nonetheless, it was a charming jaunt into uncharted territory. The first genuine hint of the West came over us during this stretch. 

(Footnote on "West:" throughout these chronicles, when I refer to "the West," I am not necessarily referring to the geographical western half of the United States. I am referring to what defines a road trip: exploration and a sense of openness. The incredible feeling of completeness that comes with confronting landscapes and cultural idiosyncrasies completely unfamiliar. Feel free to reference this footnote anytime.)    

The Mackinac Bridge was the first symbol of the West; a majestic suspension bridge connecting the two peninsulas of Michigan and flanked by two Great Lakes. An item on the Great Lakes: they look like fucking oceans. They are incredible. Enormous deposits of fresh water formed by glaciers. A magnificent wonder of the natural world. The moment we hit the Mackinac Bridge was the moment I felt far from home. 

Looking east over the green guardrail at Lake Huron.

The Mackinac Bridge from the gift shop balcony in the Upper Peninsula.

 With landfall we were aboard the Upper Peninsula. We quickly learned that the locals referred to their lands as "the U.P.", say nonsensical things and have weird accents? (According to the extensive and "quirky" gift shop we patronized, from which the above photo was taken.) Our own observations said that we were in the Midwestern version of Cape Cod, Massachusetts; a gorgeous study in peninsula vacationland. The U.P. seemed a lot more obscure (for lack of an un-hipster term) and undisturbed than Cape Cod. We traveled along Michigan's Route 2 and were essentially driving down the beach for a significant portion of our day. To reiterate a passage from Wanderlust, the planned detour into the U.P. was the only premeditated inefficient travel plan of the entire Road Trip 2011. I have needed to know what went on in the weird section of Michigan devoid of major cities ever since I began map-reading. And it still caught me off guard. I will be back to tame you, Upper Peninsula.

Cape Cod vs. U.P. dunes?

Kate/window/road/beach/Lake Michigan.

Traversing the woodsy and quaint area on a two-lane road in late afternoon alongside a lake (ocean) was quintessentially summer and surely one of the signature stretches of Road Trip 2011. By dusk we had crossed into the Central Time Zone and were courteously alerted of this by signage. My flip phone immediately jumped back an hour; Kate and I were now experiencing a 25 hour day. Shortly after the time changed we crossed state lines and pulled into a Marinette, Wisconsin Super 8 to lodge. It was run by a delightful dweeb who was extremely generous with towels. And so it went: the first day devoted entirely to travel. 

JOURNAL ENTRY: Day two devoted entirely to travel. I am quickly growing fond of days devoted entirely to travel. Stagnation avoidance is becoming a huge part of my core values. 

We departed Marinette due Southwest, crusing through eastern Wisconsin. As far as I could tell, the landscape seemed to be a slight extension of the U.P. (in greenery) but much more farm oriented. In essence, a more enchanting Ohio. By midday we suddenly arrived in Madison, the capital city. And when I say suddenly I mean that we glanced up while at a stoplight on Wisconsin Route 151 and saw this: 

The capital building of Wisconsin was beckoning us for a friendly embrace. 

We proceeded to make a couple loops around this structure in an effort to remain Southwest-bound in our travels. I'm glad we got sidetracked, however; we learned that Madison is unheralded hipster territory. With windows rolled down on this late spring day we were able to make some generalizations. Everyone was riding bikes and seemed extremely friendly. We noticed food trucks, farmer's markets and coffee shops. There was a dog park. There were frisbees flying around a college campus. And if we looked hard enough, I'm sure we would have encountered dive bars with $1 Pabst Blue Ribbons. To top it off, our way out of Madison included driving along a tiny isthmus (a piece of land flanked by water on two sides, Geography ed.) between two beautiful lakes. 

A footnote on capital cities: Did you know that capital cities of states were/are chosen based on a strong city geographically centralized within the state, in the name of statewide convenience?  

Through western Wisconsin we traveled; the farms started to become more sparse and the terrain became slightly more hilly and rocky. Hardly an indication of what was to come; it was more like a Red Herring. We then crossed the Mississippi River, the historically symbolic gateway to "the West." I tried to psych myself up but the Wisconsin/Iowa border passage was underwhelming. A formidable waterway, for sure, but almost Connecticut River-esque (river snob). 

Iowa is probably regarded my most casual U.S. citizens as one of the most boring states they could think of. Not that the casual U.S. citizen knows a great deal about Iowa. But that very sentiment gave the state substantial intrigue to me. We learned on this day that Iowa is a state of many, many large farms. Sort of hilly land but generally pretty flat. But the state maintains a curious, small-town charm throughout. Maybe because of the abundance of cows? This photo is exemplary of Iowa:

 We did manage to have an extremely interesting time in Iowa, however. Our intent for traversing Iowa was to ride Route 151 all the way to I-380, which would take us back to I-80, the featured interstate on our trip west. However, Iowa's green farm roads got the best of us on this day. Shortly after crossing state lines, we missed an important turn. Before we knew it the road was narrowing and "151" signs were gone. We were coasting our way through rolling green hills and huge family farms. Daylight was becoming scant. We were listening to Man Man's Life Fantastic; any other album title would be inappropriate. We eventually reached a small town (for my blogging money: Tipton). But the damage was done; we will always cherish the Iowan underbelly experience. We reconvened with I-80 shortly thereafter and rode it out to Urbandale to lodge. A longer day of travel on day two. 

Visit this website soon for a Nebraskan adventure. But don't hold your breath (recurring joke?). 

Listening...Vampire Weekend- Unbelievers    

Beastie Boys Always On Vacation

Driving down to the beach with your friends on a gloriously hot, sunny, summer day; all the windows rolled down. Driving around by yourself late on a muggy summer night; driver's window rolled down. Laying flat on your back in your bedroom blasting the stereo on the first day of summer. 

BEA-STIE BOYS ALWAYS ON VACATION! 

This post is meant to embody these sentiments.

371 days ago the Beastie Boys ceased to exist when Adam Yauch, mostly known as MCA, lost a lengthy battle with cancer. May 4 will always be a day of remembrance and tribute for me. I don't expect to convert any Beastie Boys haters with this post (how could you not like them?!), nor do I intend to offer unbiased criticism of their music. This is a post of expression and appreciation. Rest in peace, MCA.  

This is my love letter to the Beastie Boys:

By no stretch of the imagination is it hyperbole when I say that the Beastie Boys are the most important band in my life. Their music embodied three best friends having the time of their life. And you, the listener, needed to feel what they were feeling. Pioneers of sonic diversity, everything from instrumental funk-jams to fast-paced raps shitting on inferior MC's were Beastie Boy creations. I was exposed to the magic at an early age (8?), when I would hear their records at my dad's house on weekends. Under no circumstance did my childish brain comprehend the music's significance at that point, but man, I jammed to it. 

My personal Beastie Boy chronicles continued in middle school, when my music dealer (friend) burned me a copy of License to Ill. I wasn't hard enough enough to be fighting for my right to party in 8th grade, but man, those songs were cool. They had a snotty attitude and were catchy. The lyrics were cleverly worded and simultaneously offered instructions on how to get ladies. A young Beastie Boys fan was hooked. 

As 8th grade became high school, I began to shop at PacSun and listen to any punk music I could get my hands on. This also meant that, in response to the large hip-hop culture at high school, I hated hip-hop and refused to hear any arguments about it being "real music." Despite this, I always loved the Beastie Boys. Their hip-hop leaning sound always felt kinda punk to me (they have so much more substance than mainstream hip-hop!). As my high school brain and personal value system developed, the Beastie Boys' vibe and lyrics were a breath of fresh air and something I could get on board with. A great foundation to have at the time in most human's lives when social alienation and self-pity is at its pinnacle. 

Make no mistake, the Beastie Boys' music feels "cool" above all else. But right below the surface of cool is a feeling of welcoming and inclusion that speaks to the needs of any confused teenager. You are always invited to the Beastie Boys' party. And it's an 80's/early 90's party cooler than most of your high school classmates could ever imagine (this is an excerpt from my diary, ca. 2004). Late freshman year is when I first purchased a Beastie Boys album, To the 5 Boroughs. Which is not a bad album. But in retrospect, for the purposes of this blog, it's their worst album. But I didn't know that then, and the album rocked my Beastie world. My jam summer of '04:

HIPSTER PARAGRAPH: Another reason the Beastie Boys will always have a spot in my heart is because I never felt like anyone appreciated them quite as much as I did (hey Peter S.!). They were probably too goofy, too old, not hip-hop enough for most. To me, they were punk and they were my band. I wanted to hang out with them and be self-aware together. At the very least indulge in my budding political views and fight for our rights. Constant references to New York City made me feel like their proximity to central Connecticut could make hang-out sessions a remote possibility.  

However, the most important and influential quality about the Beastie Boys for me was their forward-thinking. They were goofballs and party-starters but were constantly challenging convention, both musical and societal. They pushed the envelope in all that they did and they never rested.

WAKING UP BEFORE I GET TO SLEEP
CUZ I'LL BE ROCKING THIS PARTY EIGHT DAYS A WEEK

The epitome of their staying power and true forward-thinking style comes upon consideration of their early commercial success. Their 1986 debut album License to Ill is by far their most well-known work and contains no less than 4 smash-hit singles (by my count). The Beastie Boys could easily have become artistically complacent, made a couple more guitar-heavy rock/rap crossover albums and ridden off into the sunset, financially set for life. But they chose the path of integrity, the path of artistic legends. 

Their follow up to License was 1989's Paul's Boutique, which, all things considered, is likely my favorite Beastie album. Much more subtle than License, the rhymes were nothing short of genius and the beats/sampling were visionary. It surely rubbed mainstream fans (I'm hipster) the wrong way upon its release; it is far less commercially successful than License. I picked up the album my senior year of high school and it was just what the (music) doctor ordered. It was challenging and still sounded relevant in 2007. Track 8:

1989 was merely the tip of the iceberg. 1992 and 1994 saw the releases of Check Your Head and Ill Communication, respectively, which were both 20-track Beastie Boy buffets. Which means that the albums had a little bit of everything. Hard raps? Funky instrumentals? Punk songs? Flutes? All of the above. Although 20-track albums are bound to contain more than a few head-scratching moments, these two albums are what really solidified the Beastie Boys as the most important band in my life. They just didn't give a fuck. They were going to put out any goddamn song they wanted to regardless of their own fame and the hype that surrounded them. Regardless of critical expectation. And every type of song they wrote was good. Their talent was unparalleled. Excerpts from these years: 

 The Beastie Boys' swan song was, fittingly, the album that defined them best. 2011's Hot Sauce Committee Part 2 is arguably their finest work, top-to-bottom. Being their first proper album in seven years, plus the fact that these were 45-year-olds playing the hip hop game, expectations for Hot Sauce were understandably low. But the Beastie Boys made a career out of burying expectations. The album is loose without being overindulgent, and hearkens back to their 90's heyday while sounding fresh and inspired. Upon hearing Hot Sauce in its entirety the first time I felt a strange sense of pride. That's when I knew they were back, and that they were truly my favorite band. Best music video of all time:

MCA's raspy voice being the most distinctive of the Beastie Boys is a microcosm of the man himself. He was the bassist and the Buddhist. He was an intregal creative force of the music as well as their innovative music videos. He was the hull of the the Beastie Boys' forward-thinking ship. He was an advocate for numerous forward-thinking causes and a philanthropist. A year later, a park is dedicated to him in Brooklyn. He lived fully and was a worldwide inspiration. 

We can pay tribute to him through our own creativity, open-mindedness and selflessness. In doing so his inspiration will carry on. RIP MCA, and let the Beastie Boys be remembered as one of the greatest musical acts of all time. 

MCA GRAB THE MIC BEFORE THE MIC GOES STALE...