By your side i can't pretend anymoreNow everything starts where it ends."
~Everything Starts Where It Ends
Lovedrug, Everything Starts Where It Ends
Dear fellow listener and occasional reader,
I want to thank you for stumbling upon this blog in whatever fashion you have. This will be our final post at this particular site, but that's better news than it sounds — we're moving to a shiny new blog with shiny new tools and hopefully going to get our thoughts out to a bigger audience.
Check us out in a few days at www.learninglovesongs.com where we'll be up and running from here on out. Plus, all our archives will be available there for future perusal.
It's interesting to look at back at my earliest posts and see how some of my favorite artists back then are still my favorites today. I still love dreamy delay, I still love gut-spilling bridges, I still love spine-tingling, hair-raising, fist-pumping hooks. But so much has changed about the music I love and who I am and this blog is a mirror for all of that — the songs that I needed in dark times, or the ones that I used to celebrate on the other side, they say something about the connection between music and listener, between artist and fan. That connection, I have learned, is one of the most powerful in the world.
I've learned a lot in the course of eight years. But with all the music there is in the world, I know I've only scratched the surface.
See you on the other side,
MD
"Hey now, we're wide awake and we're thinking My darling, believe your voice can mean something Say hello to good times Trade up for the fast ride We close our eyes while the nickel and dime take the streets completely."
"3 AM I scream your name I don't sleep, I don't change. There's no magic left , No card up my sleeve, Forever's gone And I watched it leave.
Maybe I get drunk enough to call you Admit the thing I'm finally seeing clear I can make good turn amazing Then disappear Disappear."
~Disappear
Matt Nathanson, Show Me Your Fangs
I’ve never been turned off by a Matt Nathanson album before,
there’s always at least two or three song that are these brutally honest and
beautiful takes about how hard it is to love and live with abandon, or some
equally heart-wrenching theme. Though Nathanson is an artist whose radio airplay is a footnote of his discography and hardly a household name, his songs often have something of a commercially appealing sound with these provocative or vulnerable twists, never safe but never at the cost of pleasant-sounding melodies.
On his latest record “Show me Your Fangs,” the
ballads are what gets me, coming in a one-two punch midway through the album on
“Disappear” and “Washington State Fight Song,” using an orchestral setting in the former and his trademark solo acoustic accompaniment in the latter. These songs arguably the most depressing on the album, but I think they're the most effective - while the happier takes in the beginning of the album might be good for a toe-tapping listen once or twice, Nathanson continues to be at his most successful when he lets his guts spill out on the floor. Album after album, he comes back to these points of no return, where a desperate love is tearing him apart, and each time I'm a sucker for a repeat listen.
It’s hard to tell, with an
artist who has been around the block once or twice like Nathanson has, whether
these songs are the result of pure emotional inspiration or a more imaginative, fictional spark. But either way he succeeds in bringing forward something real — and really catchy. I've had these songs swirling my head the past few days and while I don't think I'll come back to them as often as I do "Beneath These Fireworks" and that era, they prove Nathanson is a modern songwriter worth following.
"I wish that I could be a sucker for love The way I'm a sucker for lying But I like getting lost It's easier than finding my way.
I want to start over, pack up, disappear And come back treating you better But there's a girl up in Spokane And I'm like a moth to a flame
Oh, the mistakes I've made Oh, in Washington state."
There's a song off the latest Hey Marseilles album that's been floating around in my head for awhile, probably for about six weeks, ever since I first heard it in a rather serendipitous Spotify browsing session. The song is called "West Coast," and I heard it the first day I woke up in my new home in California.
So maybe part of me will always love this song, because I hear it now and I am flooded with the memories of feeling free, flushed and happy, feeling so enamored and invigorated by new surroundings. As a piece of indie folk rock in 2016, it's a great lead single from a band whose is reliably heartfelt and musically interesting.
Their most recent album -- a self-titled release -- has a few hints of electropop but still spotlights their chamber-pop strings: here we have cellos and violins and mandolins and perhaps some slightly Eastern-sounding instrument that I can't quite name. It's a really lovely little listen, calming and soothing and good for pondering. The album is at its best when tempos stay in a slow to mid range, bringing a sense of patience that is somewhat out of style in an era of frenzied, over-produced radio tracks or sprawling hipster noise rock.
Opening track "Eyes on You" is a fun take on the same old dance, it's a song with a lot sections and rhythms. I like the way it resists its own momentum, the way the rhythm drops out in the bridge before the entry of a melodic and flowing piano. Their cover of David Bowie's "Heroes" (my favorite Bowie song, as it were) is a techy take and plays around with the solos in an interesting fashion, though it's singer Matt Bishop's yearning drawl that gives the track a spine. But it's "West Coast" that I couldn't quite shake, a song that travels from coast to coast and still explores, a song that lives in the moment while gazing at the future in the horizon. It's a beautiful song, and I'm grateful I have reason to remember it.
Why do you cry? Tell me what the birds have said about my father. Hey father, hey hey father What do you know? Lovers on the carousel won't ride forever."
~The Carousel
As Tall As Lions, Lafcadio
I re-discovered As Tall As Lions this week, a band I abandoned by the wayside probably about three years ago because it reminded me of times and places I'd rather not occupy my daily memory with, the times and places where I was a person that I was less proud of than the person I am today. But an errant tweet with their name and music in it made me nostalgic for their full and beautiful sound, their poignant and passionate takes and full-out busts. What a treat!
I gave both the self-titled and Lafcadio a Spotify whirl. Ten years ago I couldn't decide which album I like better and that has not changed! But I think I lean ever-so-slightly more toward Lafcadio, because it has a bit more of an edge to it. While the self-titled has the pure and polished beauty of songs like "Maybe I'm Just Tired," "Love, Love, Love" and "Milk and Honey," Lafcadio has the searing pain and unsatisfied longing of "The Carousel," "A Ghost In Drag" and "Acrobat," the song that maybe set the stage for their later work.
It has been a long time since I listened to these songs but I have not forgotten them. They have a richness and a depth that I hear in active bands I love like The Hotelier or The Wonder Years, but with a symphonic flair, like Foxing or The World is A Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid to Die. This band has so many incredible songs, well-formed with memorable hooks and bridges. I saw them once live, at Water Street in Rochester, and they were as locked in and harmonic as their recordings suggest.
And what about those recordings?! They're a little on the analog side, but I love love love that, these do not feel overprocessed or overproduced, and you can hear a ton of space and reverberations in the room. I love the heavy bass lines, the frequent use of silence underneath lead vocals between sections and the ever-occurring busts at the end of the song, where the band just locks in on a melody/theme and plays the shit out of it until a slow, careful resolve. They do this more than once, but it works, and it works well. I nearly cried hearing "Acrobat" again, as I'd forgotten just exactly how magical that build resolve can be.
It made me feel so good to hear these songs again, despite the fact Lafcadio is far from a happy record. Rather, it's about about the dangers and pains of love and attachment, the scary parts of what's supposed to beautiful, and it delivers this message with a melodic assault.
I wasn't surprised, when I rediscovered these songs, that they still sounded so full and beautiful. What surprised me most was seeing they had **a whole 'nother album** that passed me by, that they released in 2009. Somehow I missed this! I haven't listened to it yet, saving it for a long drive or long run or some other time when I feel like I can really hear it. I hope it's good. I bet it's good. Maybe if it was good, though, I would've stumbled across it by now? No matter. It won't erase how good their two most popular records are, records that I will always associate with times and places that, even if I would rather bury them in the past, resonate with the core of who I still am today.
"What if nothing is just that
And suffering's the only thing we're good at? Dreaming, picture that a whole world in a slumber. But don't get too attached to the living,
Even every single memory's fleeting. That's a fact, being torn asunder.
But to my surprise,
No reason why,
One day I woke up and realized
Love love love love
After some time it's something I find true
Love love love love
Love's not a grave,
It won't decay on you
Love love love love
Too many days I was afraid of
Your love, your love
Give it to me, love love love love.
I'll keep you in my focus with love and affection."
"It really breaks my heart To see a dear old friend Go down in the worn old place again Do you know the sound Of a closing door? Have you heard that sound somewhere before? Do you wonder if she knows you anymore?
I wrapped your love around me like a chain But I never was afraid that it would die You can dance in a hurricane But only if you’re standing in the eye."
Brandi Carlile is one of those artists who I've still yet to really indulge in, but have a feeling I'd really like. This song, "The Eye," has been in my head since I found it on a Spotify playlist late last week, and I love love love it. Whether it's representative of most of her other songs, I can't say, but I can say I've never heard a song of hers that I didn't instantly gravitate toward, and that didn't stick in my head for days -- "The Things I Regret" is equally as powerful but on the uptempo side.
She's got a way with the hook- and in a catchy rock song, that's the part that you need to master. Her voice is strong and supple, and her guitar parts are folksy and melodic. There's a lot of layers here, but the pleasant kind, warm and inviting. Brandi doesn't sugar coat, though, and tackles these issues of dealing with life and love and oneself with some kind of passionate abandon; she's all about never giving up in the face of adversity but instead letting it make you more beautiful, more colorful somehow. And uses these powerful metaphors, about forces of love and war and the universe. Listening to "The Eye" makes me think about the tumultuous times in my life, however distant or recent in memory, and realize how I got through them by finding some sort of center, whether that center was my routine, my company or my discipline.
I was happily surprised tonight when, in going back to look for this song, I found this video with an uncut live performance with Brandi and two accompanying back-up vocalists with some sure and steady harmonies. While I thoroughly enjoyed the recorded version of this song, this video is proof: a good song is a good song is a good song, and needs little else but voices and an instrument to see it through. Purely performance. Simply stunning. "I am a sturdy soul
And there ain't no shame In lying down in the bed you've made Can you fight the urge to run for another day? You might make it further if you learn to stay.
I wrapped your love around me like a chain But I never was afraid that it would die You can dance in a hurricane But only if you’re standing in the eye You can dance in a hurricane But only if you’re standing in the eye."
"Moving on Is moving in slow motion To keep the pain to a minimal Weightless, only wait for a fall."
~How
Daughter, Not to Disappear
The ethereal elegance of Daughter is back and better than ever. I know that is a cliche thing to say, but it is true.
"Not to Disappear," their 2016 release, is one of the most smoothing, stunning and haunting collections I've heard in months. Not only is Elena Tonra an incredible vocalist, with a delicate and haunting soprano, but she writes these passionate, stirring lyrics, ones that are so very affected by emotional states of being. On "Not to Disappear," she tackles loneliness, aging, her own melancholic thoughts, and she does it in such a brash manner, unafraid of admitting her own failings and vulnerabilites without coming across as too apologetic for them.
But on this record I hear so much more than Torna's thoughts and feelings, in a good way. The percussive echoes and delayed, climatic guitar parts prove a precise vision; the other musicians are not simply her backing band. As beautiful and moving as her poetic lyrics are in their own right, the choices made in regard to space and rhythm. Guitar breaks walk a line between atmospheric shoegaze and chord-contained punk rock, for the most part holding back aggression and letting it seep out around the edges.
There's so many beautiful, moving moments here, the bust before the first verse in "How," the hypnotic hums filling out the outro of "Fossa," and the seemingly dance-inspired beats behind "Alone/With You." Daughter does an excellent job at blending genres and sounds, creating something that is not rock, is not folk, is not emo, but draws on all of the above. Mostly I think they just represent solid, inspired songwriting, showing what it means to take and idea and a motif and keeping coloring around them. Each of these songs feels like lungs holding too much air and hearts beating out of their chests, with a profound sense of tension and emotion.
It's weird how songs that deal with madness and sadness and self-doubt and turmoil can be this stunning, in a way. Shouldn't those topics be uncomfortable? But I've always kind of believed that songs, like stories, don't say much of anything if they don't have a happening of some kind to speak of, and those happenings are often conflicts, either with lovers or the world or oneself. On "Not to Disappear," Daughter tackles all those relationships with a mature curiosity, and a reckless abandon, but holds onto their emotional, meditative, core.
"Chemically enlaced faces Black out nights and tight spaces We'll feel distant embraces Scratching hands 'round my waist, yeah I'll wash my mouth but still taste you
I feel numb I feel numb in this kingdom I feel numb I feel numb in this kingdom You better, you better, you better You better make me Me better, me better You better make me better."
make me believe that there's a God sometimes."
~Soft Animal
The Hotelier, Goodness
The Hotelier's "Home, Like No Place There Is" was one of 2014's biggest rock masterpieces, rocketing a relatively unknown band from Massachusetts into a scene-specific spotlight and elevating the bar for what little-bands-that-could can do. To me, it was one of the most original, emotional albums I'd heard in what felt like ages, something that ripped open my chest and found the most secret thoughts to expose in all their pathos on a stage. I can't think about my first spring and summer in Pittsburgh without thinking about the mournful chorale of "An Introduction to the Album," or the agonizing shame of "Your Deep Rest."
This year we get a new Hotelier LP. The songs releasedso far are nothing short of epic promises, hinting at an album that's slightly more optimistic but nonetheless emotionally motivated, full and relevant. "Goodness" is going to be good. Great, even. But until that arrives and I get the chance to memorize another 13 tracks of riveting self-reflection at the hands of Christian Holden, there's these two great singles to chew on (AND this fantastic cover of The Cure's "Doing the Unstuck").
It's hard for me to pin down just what it is that makes this band so good - is it the lyrics themselves, these strong metaphors and perfectly metered phrases sung in a soulful, stretching baritone? Is it the guitars, with distortion aplenty and moody, melodic chords? Maybe it's just talent. I can't say just what it is, but it's woven into "Piano Player" and its crashing, thrashing, peripatetic motion, and in "Soft Animal" yearning, pleading hooks. I'm so sold on this band, and I'm confident they won't fall into that same familiar pattern of a band who broke through and broke down. Songs this deep and rich will always find an audience. Songs this exploratory, this well-versed and composed, will always need to be written so they can be heard.
"Aligning stars that you wait for Always know if you're holding back Don't slow yourself down anymore
We watch the days fly While all the years try Telling us something Don't waste a whole life On just a half try It's all or nothing."
~All Or Nothing
Mutemath, Odd SOul
Whenever I tell people I'm into music, I have to do it somewhat sheepishly, bracing for what comes next. The natural follow-up question is usually some variant of "Well, who are your favorite artists?" and I think this is one of the most difficult questions to answer. My favorite today? My favorite who are active in this decade? My favorites from all-time? It all depends, and I cannot be asked to choose, out of fear of leaving out some great influence. Should it be favorite as defined as who you listen to the most in times of aimless soundtracking??
If we're going by the latter definition, I'd unquestionably have to say Mutemath, as well as recommend them to any listener of rock music who has not yet uncovered them. I've listened to this band for close to a decade now (dammit, time!!!) and have only grown more attached to and impressed by their sound. The newest LP "Vitals" is a significant addition to their discography, reaching the top five of the alternative and rock charts, meaning any music fan who pays attention to new, big and happening bands ought to have come across them in some manner by now.
I've spent enough time with them to issue this decree: "Odd Soul" is their best record. It's the most eccentric. It's their most assertive. It's the record where they take risks as musicians, as a band and as writers, unafraid to be aggressive and loud and weird. It is a one-way, non-stop train to Groove City, no matter what kind of mood I'm in when I choose to play it.
When it debuted in 2011, I devoured it from start to finish, and it's never gotten old. It's never gotten tired, and the older I get, the more familiar its themes start to feel. It has an over-arching narrative of being yourself and pushing yourself to the limits, denying the doubts and scrubbing the haters from your mind, buoyed by the best drumming Darren King ever laid down and these proggy, spacey guitar riffs that just hammer on and on and on. From the off-beat senses of the intro into the discoesque "Prytania," through the moody melodic "Cavalries," this is an album where you can press play and let it go, riding it out until those gorgeous echoing synths closing "In No Time" fade out.
It's become one of my go-to pick-me-ups for when I am feeling down on myself, or when the general malaise of a workday or life sets in. Because those moments are going to happen, those feelings are going to be unavoidable in the constant reviewing conducted by the emotional mind, but they do not need to rule the day. Instead of running from what hurts, what lurks, what is dark, we can can explore and wonder about and even celebrate the odd soul. We all have one.
"I was once a son, now I'm on my own Wade through everyone and I've got myself to show The trials and tribulations seem to always track me down I'll ride off into the sunset and try me another town
I'm an odd soul Ah, yes an odd soul, Walking side roads 'Cause that's the only way I know."
Wowowow the new Blink-182 single is great. Love that this band (Tom DeLonge departure aside) has been chugging along for more than two decades, continuing to deliver this radio-friendly pop punk rock. I'll admit I haven't been much of a fan of their catalogue since their "I Miss You" days, which is about the same time I started to pay attention to other genres like indie, alt-country and all other sounds of interest that crossed my path, but a stream of incessant buzz on Twitter today made it impossible to avoid "Bored to Death." And why would you want to?
It's a great single, from the catchy bridge to the fist-pump chorus, and gang vocal harmonies where new addition Matt Skiba shines (His solo project. Matt Skiba and the Sekrets, converted me to a total fan last year). It's grown-up rock-and-roll from a band that once thrived in the immature underground, and I love the melodic influences that Skiba's identifiable vocals bring on board.
Who knew that it would be 2016 and Blink-182 would still be such a huge band? Maybe I'm wrong here, and maybe this single won't catch on, but I'd be damn surprised if their album didn't top what is left of the charts and dominate the mainstream scene for the months to come. Long live the bands that refused to stop in their tracks, and those that found a way to keep their signature sound alive.
"There's a stranger staring at the ceiling Rescuing a tiger from a tree The pictures in her head are always dreaming Each of them means everything to me
And it's a long way back from seventeen The whispers turn into a scream, And I'm not coming home.
Save your breathe, I'm nearly Bored to death and fading fast. Life is too short to last long Back on earth I'm broken, Lost and cold and fading fast Life is too short to last long..."
~Bored to Death
Blink-182, California
"Biting my clothes to keep from screaming Taking pills to keep from dreaming I want to break something important I want to kick my dad in the shins
I was referring to the present in past tense It was the only way that I could survive it I want to close my head in the car door I want to sing this song like I'm dying Heavy boots on my throat, I need I need somethin soon, I need somethin soon I can't talk to my folks, I need I need somethin soon, I need somethin soon All of my fingers are froze, I need I need somethin soon, I need somethin soon Only one change of clothes, I need I need somethin soon, I need somethin soon My head is, my head is, my head is..."
~Something Soon
Car Seat Headrest, Teens of Style
It's easy to find good music - and it's easy to be impressed, or enjoy something you hear for the first time. I don't buy it when people say music too homogenized and prepackaged and overproduced these days -- so many new releases are these intricate blends of modern sounds, and it's an adventure to see what trends feed of the last. Somewhere in all that, the real authentic stuff is there, and occasionally you'll make the rare find of an artist who continues to wow you to that same level over and over again, where you keep listening and discover layer upon layer and layer of who they are, and where these songs are coming from.
For me, Car Seat Headrest is becoming one of those artists. Every song I hear from this guy I like more than the last, every performance I watch leaves me wanting more. Will Toledo's songs are more confessional rock than folk, but they have a storytelling narrative nonetheless. Musically, there's a lo-fi, grungy vibe, but his chord choices are poppy and melodic enough to carry the occasional hook (no better exemplified than his biggest single, "Something Soon"), and these surf-rock style solos.
I love Toledo's emphasis on his anxieties and insanities. For this, I will listen over and over again, because he's smart and observing without whining. He's carrying indie rock's torch in its natural direction, and in the process divulging so much of himself with these little details about his self-image ("If I could split me in two/I would just take my fists/So I could beat up the rest of me") and inner monologues. His songs have a way of driving forward without getting bogged down in the depressive, though, due mostly to these wailing guitar parts and pop rock rhythms.
I think Toledo's songs, notably on "Teens of Style", are pretty solid reflections of the early 21st century, teen or 20-something experience. While some artists are direct about this, referencing texts and selfies to the point of making it a gimmick, Toledo cuts to the chase of loneliness and the longing that this time produces, and the unending, seemingly inescapable cycle of dreaming and flailing and failing that's supposed to provide whatever happiness there is to be achieved in this great wide world of ours. It is one of the best rock albums I have discovered in my recent memory, perfectly weird and wistful and wandering.
I'm so excited for the upcoming "Teens of Denial" to get a fresh taste of an album approach. Car Seat Headrest has a discography that dates back three years and shows a real maturation -- there plenty to choose from and each release has its own style, whether its production room tweaks or scratchy-record style harmonies. You can tell Toledo just grinds out songwriting, toying with new techniques along the way. I've spent a fair amount of time with the recent single, called "Drunk Drivers/Killer Whales," and I think Toledo is pushing himself in a bigger musical direction and better off for it. I think this is a sound worth paying attention to.
"All of my friends are getting married All of my friends are right with God All of my friends are making money But art gets what it wants and art gets what it deserves I think I’m gonna build a giant hotel Lest we be scattered, I’ll stack it sky-high It’s not symbolic, it’s just human nature Under the foundations, there is a graveyard
We’ve all had better times to die We’ve all seen better times to die We’ve all had better times to die We all had better times to die."
~Time to Die
Car Seat Headrest, Teens of Style
Discovering Steve Gunn shortly before a cross-country road-trip turned out to be excellent timing, as listening to him now has me longing for wide-open Oklahoma skies and the unending New Mexico horizons. I've been in a solid folk-country mode lately, underscored by classic rock like CSNY and Dylan and unknown tracks by way of random desert radio stations. But Gunn provides a modern update to all this - his guitar playing is intricate, and spacey, and worth a live performance viewing to truly appreciate. His songwriting has a definite flow, with the divisions between verse and chorus more ballad than pop, with the kind of two, two-and-half minute solos that reel in the listener and reflective, observational lyrics that give them something to chew on once they're there.
His newest single "Conditions Wild" showcases his playing and explores a wide, open world with intrigue, albeit understated. It feels purposefully restrained, as if Gunn's voice carrying the melody is holding back all hell from breaking loose. Diving into his back catalog reveals more of this, along with slide guitar and delay and six-minute-plus songs brimming with warm acoustic tones.
I love the space in his music, created through multiple guitar parts with meandering solos on top. Intros and outros twist and turn around every corner of a scale although, for better or worse, it seems like his newer releases are getting shorter. Overall, Gunn's style reminds of that rambling jam-band genre with a little bit more of a literary, subdued element -- he seems to indulge in the depth of a song, opting for a six-track LP on 2013's "Time Off" in favor of six, seven minute jams. It's fantastic road trip music, especially with the windows down and a taste of the desert breeze.
Given that Steve Gunn is as East Coast as they come (Brooklyn via PA), his music is hardly of this place that it references and suits so well, but therein lies the magic of acoustic lead guitars and big, mysterious rock music -- it can be inspired by the promise of something bigger, something greater. Isn't that what the westward journey is all about? There's probably a lot more to be said about music that is from one place and sounds reminiscent of another, but perhaps a task for an academic or another day.
For now, I'm enjoying all the space, the slow-down, the openness.
"Wind so bad, the woods will move They’re hanging in the ai
Who am I? Soon can sayTake into the young old land It’s how he wants to rock
It’s how he wants to rock
You know it runs The private river out Into the night Its fruit will help you listen Keep you outta sight
Moon so bad the doors won’t move They don’t seem to care Ask so plain, the runners so forward It’s time to move, the brave the storm A different stop a day Move and make your way
You know it runs The private river out into the night Its fruit will help you listen
Keep you outta sight."
~Wildwood
Steve Gunn, Way Out Weather
"But I was late for this, late for that, Late for the love of my life.
And when I die alone, when I die alone, When I die I'll be on time."
~Cleopatra
The Lumineers, Cleopatra
Looking forward to the new album from The Lumineers album despite my very select knowledge of their early music. Mostly excited about this new single, "Cleopatra," a delightfully dark character-driven retrospective. I'm enjoying how this band uses rhythm to move a song along, with a lot of drums and piano and tambourine, they're not guitar-reliant and that's a really powerful thing, as their breakthrough single "Ho Hey" similarly suggests.
A band like The Lumineers is at an interesting point in their career - most likely, any single they release will not have the immense popularity that that first hit did. "Ho Hey" was everywhere - on radio, TV shows, just shepherding hipster folk to the masses through a charming, catchy love song. How can a band top that? Maybe that's why they took their time in coming out with a sophomore effort four years after their Grammy-nominated self-titled debut, maybe because the pressure to be great was weighty and they thought it better to simmer for awhile.
In music, as other efforts, it's a lot easier to make a splash as something new and great rather than sustain that popularity. Easy to get to the top, harder to stay there, as the saying goes. It's freshness and newness an artist brings to the table that makes them so popular in the first place - in the case of The Lumineers, I call it the right sound at the right time. As a creator, how do you live up to that expectation of greatness after you have already achieved it? If you make the same sound, how can it popularized a second time? Are you pressured to recreate out of appeasement, or do you dive into new territory and hope the fanbase comes along for the ride? From the sound of "Cleopatra" and "Ophelia," they've focused on their
melodic and auxiliary strengths, those qualities that earned them the
nomination nod for Best New Artist. As a relatively new fan, I hope to find these same sincere, sad themes, these roosty-bluesy riffs and spine-tingling harmonies.
"I, I got a little paycheck, you got big plans and you gotta move
And I don't feel nothing at all And you can't feel nothing small
'Honey I love you,' that's all she wrote.
Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl like a drug Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love
Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl since the flood Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love
Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl like a drug Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love."
"You are the hole in my head I am the pain in your neck You are the lump in my throat I am the aching in your heart
We are tangled We are stolen We are living where things are hidden."
One of the things I truly enjoyed about Judd Apatow's "Love" Netflix series was the closing credit soundtrack - each song was a cynical, desperate kiss-off to match the episode's screwball relationship defeats. I have an extra reason to love it now, because it reminded me that this song exists - probably my favorite thing Eddie Vedder has ever recorded.
I've never been much of a Pearl Jam fan - I just wasn't around at the right time!! And there's only so much retrospective listening one can do!! - but any time I hear Vedder's solo work and folk-acoustic tracks it leaves such a good impression on me. His voice will go down in history as one of the most recognizable of our generation, and one of the most unforgettable, too. This cover of John Doe's (of the formative punk rock band X) "The Golden State" is probably one of my all-time surprise favorites - I rediscover this song every year in some form or fashion, via TV or Pandora or whatever, and fall in love with all over again.
The harmonies are so, so perfect, using this really open, obvious counterpoint that makes the two voices sound like they're in different worlds but still meshing purposely. The result, and the sentiment, is really quite fitting. I ought to stop forgetting to put this on every playlist I ever make, learn to play it, and find out more of John Doe's original work because I would love to hear more of this. "We are luck We are fate We are the feeling you get in the golden state
We are love We are hate We are the feeling I get when you walk away."~The Golden State
John Doe feat. Kathleen Edwards, The Golden State, as covered by Eddie Vedder and Corin Tucker
"They need a heart. I relapse on memory. I got numb again. I feel the scar, but I need the money. I think I’m lost again.
I think my life is disappearing."
~Punch Drunk,
Young and Heartless, Stay Awake
As much as I've been hooked on the arena-synth emo likes of the new record from The 1975 (eveyr night) and the alt-country twinges of Brian Fallon's "Painkillers," (every morning) I keep adding ot he list of what I must l isten to that is new and different (during the day). Today that is the Young and Heartless, a Hopeless Records band that I'd heard of but hadn't heard and listening to their new record provides a much more mature, complex sound than I imagined.
There's a darkness and edginess to their lyrics, about money and drugs and losing grip on one's life. But their ever-so-slightly nu wave guitars elevate their sound to something silky, smooth and cohesive. The vocals are throaty baritone without the screamy-screeching that seems (finally) to be going out of fashion in favor for more technical, on-point melodies and backing harmonies. There are echoes of grungier emo, like Citizen, but also the introspective notions of Into It. Over It., and the shoegaze tint of Title Fight. Every song seems to be about not being able to get it, or keep it, together.
"Stay Awake" Is an incredibly digestible listen, but not necessarily a comfortable one - it's not a happy record, by any means, but it is really beautifully crafted mid-tempo rock and roll. Each song, prior to its final chorus, seems to build a tension that breaks down in a feisty drum part and ever-so-dissonant chord choices. It's a sound that feels absolutely trendy and on-point, but only because it has been fashioned out of years of work. However long they've been around, Young and Heartless are good enough at writing tight, deep groves together, which just so happens to be the sound of the moment. But you don't get to sound this seasoned without a run-up, and something tells me this sound has been brewing in their garages and studios for awhile.
I'm so happy to have stumbled upon this band on their record release day, as they start what is very likely a successful run and I seek anything new, relevant, present and different to enthrall myself in. As wonderful as it is to have new music from old favorites (and there is so much of that this year, notably new LPS from Aaron West, The Hotelier, and Thrice coming up this spring) having a new band with a new style and a new story provide punctuation to the phases of life, like the bookends in between what's old and new.
"What am I doing? Carve me a new love. Open the
blinds. Your life deserves light." ~Misery on Misery Young and Heartless, Stay Awake
"So satisfied I said a lot of things tonight
So long aphasia & the ways it kept me hiding
It's not so much exactly all the words I used
iI's more that i was somehow down to let them loose."
~Aphasia
Pinvegrove, Caridnal
Pinegrove is the indie rock band of the year, it has already been determined by myself and so many other rabid listeners. Theirs is a fresh sound, that rare bird that finds its way into blogs and tastemaking machines. There's emo roots for sure, but a little bit of hipster songwriter, too, and a hell of a lot of introspective heart.
Pinegrove is to 2016 as The Hotelier is to 2014 and Turnover is to 2015, this little-band-that-could that makes its breakthrough. I started listening to them earlier this year after seeing more than a few Twitter mentions, and now I can't stop playing "Cardinal" every night. The record channels pensive loneliness in a subdued and understated way - they are not brash like Modern Baseball, they are not overly wrought like TWIABP, but they can be considered contemporaries in this post-emo revival, rock-for-the-heartfelt times.
While I love the layered guitar sound and their ability to build and bust into noisey little spells, I think it's the melodies that make these songs worth returning to. On tracks like "Aphasia," "Size of the Moon" and ubiquitous opener "Old Friends," the verses seem to be written with as much of an ear for hooks as the choruses, and they find a way to take root in your brain. Something about this is very pop, and very now, but all else about them is rather garage band rock and roll. The combination is altogether hoest. Let this be the year of Pinegrove, let their subtle technique, elegant touch and gritty realism set the bar for what it means to forge a new sound built upon the foundations of rock and roll.
"I don't know what
I'm afraid of
but I’m afraid
one day it all
will fall away
Maybe I read that
But still, let’s see
If nothing else it’s an idle curiosity."
~Size of the Moon
Pinegrove, Cardinal
I can't get this song out of my head. It's the most haunting on Chris Stapleton's award-winning, twang-folk "Traveller" LP, and latest song to make me a cry on an airplane. Something in his howl is so perfectly suited to a song with this message, one about the tough, ugly side of loving someone. How you will go there even if you know it's someone who can hurt you.
Love songs often fall into one of two camps - the love-you,need-you, sunshine-and-roses one, or the post-love, heartache one. But it's so much more than that, isn't it? This song just gets it right, with an unforgettable chorus - that first note won't leave my mind and the following melody just spirals from there. The official video is as haunting as they come. But I don't think it would have the power it does if the song wasn't such a strong, simple ode to suffering in all its forms.
Stapleton is a master of this genre, he was even before his breakthrough, and he so deserves the warm reception he's received from mainstream audiences. He embraces difficulty, pain, self-doubt and consequence, but with acceptance and not defeat. Some of the songs get a little too twangy for my tastes, I'll admit, but this one is too stunning, too stilling to pass by.
"Honey load up your questions
And pick up your sticks and your stones And pretend I’m a shelter for heartaches that don’t have a home
Choose the words that cut like a razor
And all that I’ll say is
Fire away
Take your best shot
Show me what you got
Honey, I’m not afraid
Rear back and take aim
And fire away
Well, I wish I could say
That I’ve never been here before But you know and I know That I’ll always come back for more Your love might be my damnation
But I’ll cry to my grave
Fire away
Take your best shot
Show me what you got
Honey, I’m not afraid
Rear back and take aim And fire away."
~Fire Away
Chris Stapleton, Traveler
"Most of this life's been a drag of a high And lows like a blow in a paid thrown title fight Most of my sins were born in a kiss on a night like this Calling all lonely hearts
Don't you want a life like we saw on the picture show? So come on, give me something, come on, keep me up all night
You say, my baby, all this time in between drives me crazy I want a life on fire, going mad with desire I don't wanna survive, I want a wonderful life."
~A Wonderful Life
Brian Fallon, Painkillers
The new Brian Fallon solo record is out, and it's everything I wanted "Get Hurt" to be.
Seriously. He should've released this years ago.
Without his full band but never lacking in layers, "Painkillers" plays like the most distilled version of Fallon we've heard yet. His references are familiar - tombs, cars, pills, they're all here for the mixed metaphor party, and the chords are too. But I've still spent the whole day playing it over and over again, surrendering to the hooks of "Among Other Foolish Things" and "Rosemary" just like the tracks off "The '59 Sound" once hooked me.
To me, this collection is the result of a songwriter's efforts to define himself around the edges. His focus is still heartbreak in all its forms, and love in all its highs and lows. Most songs have a "been-there" attitude, run down and over it but still, somehow, crawling back for more. And while he tries some different things vocally, occasionally evoking Dylan in a throat-speak kind of way, nothing that he attempts is out of his range, or out of his zone, or out of his style. And as a result, the whole thing is really cohesive, and authentic, in ways that the more recent Gaslight Anthem records were lacking.
"Smoke," "Nobody Wins" and "Honey Magnolia" are instant standouts after I'd already played the lead single, "A Wonderful Life," to death over the past few weeks. The re-recordings of "Long Drives" and "Red Lights," originally Molly and the Zombies tracks, are welcome in their revival, with a lot more harmonies and clearer guitar interplay to match the rest of the record style. The record is littered with heart crushing lines: "Last night I remembered being 17 / I met a girl with a taste for the world and whisky and rites of spring." As was the case with The Horrible Crowes, Fallon chooses to dress up his verse-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus sort of stucture with lots of fun auxiliary - a tambourine or piano is never far out of reach and "Painkillers" is all the more itneresting for it. In a lot of ways it feels like a return to his roots, and the Americana rock that built TGA's fanbase.
As catchy as the solos can be, the star of the show, as I would've expected, is Brian Fallon's exceptional capacity for self-reflective storylines. The best lines are when he's alone struggling with his demons, drowning in dreams and getting drunk on the look of a lover. These scenes are repeated time and time again in all his work, and I have to wonder if these are real people he knows, or just characters he's invented in their image. Maybe a little bit of both. I do not know if "Painkillers" will draw any new fans Fallon's way, but for the diehards, it is a welcome, familiar taste, a new spin on the same old imagery and a perfectly sad, sweet, stylized indulgence.
"But you said I’m alright Baby I don’t mind I’ll get on just fine on them long long drives."
~Long Drive
Brian Fallon, Painkillers
"Right in front of me
Splitting you from me
Where do these cliffs come from
They keep on lining up Can you hold out your hand
just a little bit further
I can feel your finger tips
if I just reach out a bit
Save me from myself
Save us from all the rest
Don't rest till you've saved enough
then you know you've passed the test"
~Surf and Turf
Minus the Bear, Lost Loves
I must never forget how good Minus the Bear records are.
Their 2014 release, the cleverly titled "Lost Loves," totally slipped by me until someone else's Instagram shot of "Highly Refined Pirates" made me realize I needed their groovy, funky gutiar parts and silky, sexy vocals as a Friday afternoon pick-me-up. Then I realized they had this album I never heard with these releases I haven't discovered yet -- "Lost Loves" is a collection of rarities and never-before-released cut tracks. Listening to it has solidified everything I knew I liked about this band and have for years - their bright and bold guitar parts, their intricate rhythms, and the upbeat-but-chill sound they pull off in this understated and cool-off manner.
This band reminds me of spending mornings by the beach and weekends by the coast, or late-night drives through cities in the search of debauchery, or even just its guise. A copy of 2010's "Omni" lives in the passenger side of my car, still in its original packing, and I'll reach for it from time to time when a drive needs to feel good. Minus the Bear is my kind of party band -- guitar playing at its fashionable finest, decadent imagery, and propulsive rhythms for days.
They made a name for themselves in the height of indie emo's popularity in the early 2000s, with the sultry hooks of "Menos el Oso," even though they never really represented that sound, and since then their vibe has only veered even further from the "the scene," favoring this brooding, full-bodied rock and roll. The songs on "Lost Loves" exemplify this masterfully, as such a collection ought to -- from the thumping outro of "Broken China" to the echoing organs of "Cat Calls and Ill Means," and the brilliant fast-fingered soloing on "Invented Memory," these phrases and fills that are all feel, all atmosphere, produced with the kind of technique that shows off swagger through restraint.
Must remember to work them back into my rotation. More days could use this.
"Throw all the clocks out
Tell time by touch
Feel it fall through your fingers as it rains down on us"
~Invented Memory
Minus the Bear, Lost Loves
Seeing Jason Isbell perform for the second time tonight. I almost didn't buy tickets - stupid, I know! - in an attempt to be fiscally responsible and see if any freebies or friend offers came may way. But last night, with neither of those plausible chances coming to fruition, I made sure to secure myself a seat and I'll be there in six hours or so, on the third deck of the Benedum Center balcony, so I can hear the genius Isbell and beautiful Amanda Shires play the highlights.
There's a 110 percent chance I'm leaving in tears, the quiet, hot kind that you try to hide but can't stop because you'd rather feel through your emotion than lock it up for the sake of saving face. Something about his songs - both melodies and words - cuts to the quick of what moving songs are supposed to do. He can channel the heartfelt without overplaying its effect. He can evoke memories you never knew you had. Few artists in this wide open music scene have the literary way with words that has made Isbell's records such a classic --
"I'll throw rocks at your window from the street
And we'll call ourselves the flagship of the fleet." ~Flagship Jason Isbell, Something More Than Free
--not to mention the things he can do to a guitar, extending solos into mini-epics, playing each note a little clearer, a little truer, a little longer than the last. Hearing him for a couple hours tonight promises a respite from the rest of the world, just as it was last February, just as his albums from my speakers provide the most solid soundtrack, appealing to the better parts of my taste and humanity.
"We spent some time Together crying Spent some time just trying To let each other go
I held your hand so Very tightly And told you what I Would be dreaming of
There's nothing like you and I Nothing like you and I There's nothing like you and I So why do I even try? There's nothing like you and I"
~Nothing Like You and I The Perishers, Let There Be Morning
Some nights you have to give up on the promise of sleep. Too much in your head, or too much caffeine, or too many loud neighbors. The best remedy, I have learned, is to go with the awakeness -- don't fight it, you will only end up frustrated with yourself. It winds up being the perfect time to pull out the headphones and find some new music, or revisit old favorites lurking around, like The Perishers.
Oh, how I love this little song. Patient and delicate, space in the slow rhythms and lightness in the vocal melody. Warmth in the keys. Perfect for a mix CD, the kind with random one-off songs from random one-off artists. I love how it starts very simply, and builds to a harmony-filled key change, so together and polished in that Swede-pop way. I've been paying extra attention to band origins since reading the absolutely excellent "The Song Machine" by John Seabrook, and upon returning to this find from The Perishers, I realized their perfectly timed rhymes and uplifting chord choices are a pure product from their scene, the late 90s pop rock eruption, directly from its epicenter.
At the very least, it's a happier sound than the muffled grunge radio and hipster horns blaring from the apartment beneath me at this hour. At the very best, it's a daydream, when I should be sleeping, a reminder of the lightness that lies ahead once the sun comes back up and the world wakes up.
“If you feel down and you write that down, most of the time it is going to be a country song.” ~Billy Joe Shaver, songwriter
I keep Billy Joe Shaven's advice in my inbox. I like to look at it when I'm feeling stressed or tired or uninspired, or some combination of those. I like to remember how good it feels to purge whatever I'm feeling into music, even if it is with songs I can never remember on a guitar I can barely play for an audience that, despite their attentive ears, doesn't have much feedback to offer (because they are felines).
Every time I tell myself that *this* is the weekend I'll revisit some songs or *this* is the weekend I'll post a new video, it becomes so much easier to do anything but stay home and practice -- meeting up with friends, running, shopping, laundry, pretty much anything is preferable to indulging in my own creativity when, as much as I enjoy the feeling of playing music, it altogether feels like a selfish pursuit. But then I remember this quote, and all the others about how music can save souls and change lives and uplift the darkest of spirits. And then I think that yeah, maybe it is worthwhile to practice a little, even if it's for 10 minutes, or for 30 minutes, even if it's the same old songs I've always loved to play, or even if it's whatever nonsense I need to say.
"Well I know when you're around cause I know the sound
I know the sound, of your heart Well I know when you're around cause I know the sound I know the sound, of your heart
It's not about reciprocation, it's just all about me A sycophantic, prophetic, Socratic junkie wannabe There's so much skin to see A simple Epicurean Philosophy And you say I'm such a cliche, I can't see the difference in it either way. And we left things to protect my mental health But you call me when you're bored and you're playing with yourself
You're so conceited I said 'I love you' What does it matter if I lie to you? I don't regret it but I'm glad that we're through So don't you tell me that you 'just don't get it' Cause I know you do.
Well I know when you're around cause I know the sound I know the sound, of your heart."
~The Sound
The 1975, I Like it When You Sleep, for You are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware of it
The new LP from The 1975 is easily one of my most anticipated releases of 2016. Not just because "The Sound" is an earworm, not just because Matthew Healy's near-falsetto reach matches perfectly with my own, not just because their debut soundtracked one of my loneliest, but loveliest, years of adulthood. I'm excited for this record because theirs is a band that stormed on the scene and wound up creating a new trend, and the hit bands that pull that off followed by an better sophomore effort make for the best kind of music success stories.
The sound that The 1975 popularized in a somewhat ground-up fashion now radiates across radio, even if their own hits never did - Walk the Moon's "Shut Up and Dance" comes to mind. It's that dance-beat rock and roll, with twinges of funk and disco embedded in the guitar melodies and bass lines. On "The Sound," a very appropriately titled early single from the rather awkwardly titled LP," a repetitive synth line sets the tone and an off-the-bat hook place the song comfortably in radio dance-rock, pop-rock world. I cannot get it out of my head, and when I do, it's time to go listen to it again. And like the rest of their songs, it is equal parts flirty and edgy, making overt references to love, lust and self-awareness in the language of pure pop poetry.
Will this record catapult The 1975 to the top of the charts an allow them to take over the world? All the ingredients seem right. But if their chance has passed and they remain an act on the periphery, we might be better off -- it means they just might keep ahead of the curve.
"Get lost in the dead of the night where once I lived on Grand Street. Deaf from Chucks on bones crushed white. New Brooklyn bows before me. Soak it all in and let it run deep, glory in delusion. I can picture us, Waltz in the ruins of this wilted gray contusion.
Sometimes, when she’s far and I’m drunk, I clutch her like a compass. Never thought of being anything but quixotic and self-conscious. Some ache to guide your hand, to pull out of the socket. I’m the cricket that lets you burn while I smolder in your pocket."
~Jiminy
Say Anything, I Don't Think It Is
I didn't know Max Bemis planned on releasing a new Say Anything record this week, so I was had an extra surprise when he started streaming it for free the day prior.
Sad to say I lost the plot on his records after "In Defense of the Genre," which always felt like too much to wrap my head around despite some catchy standouts. This record feels far more organized than that, with the same outrage-inspired message. The musical maturity of Max Bemis since he stole a generation's heats and minds on "...Is A Real Boy" is obvious, with more intricate parts and progressions, but the same tired, aggressive snarl.
Emotional expression remains the star of this show, even in newfound restraint - the end of "Attaboy," in particular, features a nice sort of post-rock delicacy under screamed-in-despair vocals. Track 2, "17 Cokes Up Speeding," feels like a throwback, capturing the anxiety and depression Bemis has always channeled with punked-out chords and dizzying technique. There's some really excellent guitar parts and harmony-filled hooks, and
Darren King (brother-in-law by marriage to Bemis) is a strong addition
to the sound (feel like I hear more of him behind a kit on this than I
do on MuteMath's "Vitals," it seems, at least as far as that smooth,
understated backbeat goes).
As a musician, Max Bemis remains experimental - whether this is for its own sake or to underscore his messaging, I can't be sure. He continues to plays around with spoken word and hip-hop samples, like on
"Goshua" and odd choice for a closer "Varicose Visage" and I have to
wonder what feedback he's received. But then a track like "Jiminy" returns to the dramatic kickdrum-backed
melodies and brilliantly twisted wordplay that have made the backbone of Bemis' discography, full of buoyant grit and graceless glory.
I'm surprised how much I like this, having given up on Say Anything's sound as a little too disorganized and radical for my tastes. I've preferred to hear Max Bemis acoustic or in Perma, like when I caught that show in December 2013. But where "I Don't Think It Is" veers into unfamiliar territory, it's still a confessional ode to the art of grappling with the mind and its anxieties, which is an unsurprisingly comforting listen for me, for now, regardless.
"I’m 23 locked up in the asylum Listening too much to my own album Sent me spinning out death-wish-bound to forge a callous Stomping on the seesaw where I balance I’m at that age where I actually go to parties And I sit in the back with a drink and let them judge meWhile I pray to the devil that a hurricane comes to take us We’ll be torn away from all the ways we fake trust 'Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore! You’re not a kid anymore!' Said the fool to the mystic “Be realistic!” He replied with a lipstick sigil: 'You always think too much and feel too little' 'Hey, kid! You’re not a kid anymore! You’re not a kid anymore!' Said the fool to the mystic 'Be realistic!' He replied with a lipstick sigil, 'You always think too much and feel too little.'"
~17 Coked Up Speeding
Say Anything, I Don't Think It Is
Saturday! SaturdaySaturdaySaturday. On Saturday I finally get to see Marianas Trench, one of my most favorite bands due to their musicality and lyrics and being an all-around good time. I've been binging a little bit, in the middle of putting Kanye West's discography on repeat in anticipation of "Waves." The contrast is a little rough, but energizing through long, grey days nonetheless.
While I'm expecting a total barrage of hooks and harmonies from "Astoria" during this Marianas Trench tour, my fingers are crossed for some special covers and old favorites, perhaps like this "Iris/Good for You" one. It's a pretty simple transition, nothing fancy, the connection is all in the chords and the sentiment. I could do without the crowds screaming along, but I can't say I won't be acting in a similar fashion in four days time.
"And I don't want the world to see me 'Cause I don't think that they'd understand When everything's made to be broken I just want you to know who I am....
Everyone's around, no words are coming now.
And I can't find my breath, can we just say the rest with no sound. And I know this isn't enough, I still don't measure up.
And I'm not prepared, sorry is never there when you need it.
And now I do want you to know I hold you up above everyone. And now I do want you to know I think you'd be good to me
And I'd be so good to you."
~Iris/Good to You, as performed by Josh Ramsay
This is one of my favorite pop hits of the past 10 years covered by an artist, who,musically, has never received the highest of accolades but has cemented celebrity through other mediums. But credit where credit is due - Jared Leto crushes this performance of Rihanna's "Stay" that I stumbled across on YouTube tonight.
From the moment Leto begins to sing, he promises a fierce performance. The first crack in his voice on "cold sweat hot headed believer," sends shivers down my spine. For a cover, I love how dedicated this is to the original, strict and dramatic piano with subtle percessuion to highlight slow builds to a melodic climax. His voice in the final chorus, bellowing and screeching those long high notes, is nothing short of rock star status. Just when I was getting tired of spending bored afternoons and lonely evenings practicing the same old chords and songs, feeling like I can't bring anything new or original to the performance with my barebones skills, there is some evidence that keeping true to the song, in its,message and sound and integrity, is worthwhile indeed.
"It's not much of a life you're living It's not just something you take, it's given Round and around, and around, and around we go Oh now, tell me now,
Tell me now,
Tell me now you know...
Not really sure how to feel about it Something in the way you move Makes me feel like I can't live without you It takes me all the way I want you to stay." ~Stay Rihanna, Unapologetic
If ever a day almost reaches its inevitable end without my heart getting caught in my throat, or without remembering the beauty that is just being, may I always remind myself to go listen to some acoustic Ryan Adams, and everything will settle into where it ought to be.
This performance of "Desire" for Austin City Limits is tender and quiet, the version of Adams that I think I like second-best, after the slightly manic howling one. I ought to go back and listen to "Demolition," it's been quite some time and it never captivated in the ways "Heartbreaker," "Easy Tiger" or the Cardinals records did, but I'm quite happy to indulge in this for now (I also love his to this performance preface as reported by Rolling Stone). I am such a sucker for this kind of song structure, the one that's an endless, silky, melody repeated for each line, without any kind of interruption. It's the kind of song you can write when you latch onto the perfect little sequence of three or five or seven notes that can be cycle through. Adams, who is equally adept at spinning a soul-shattering chorus, finds a stunning one here, and he softly lifts his voice to let it lilt away, letting the three-syllables of the title express so much more than he bothers to say.
"Two hearts fading, like a flower. And all this waiting, for the power. For some answer, to this fire. Sinking slowly. The water’s higher. Desire.
With no secrets. No obsession. This time I'm speeding with no direction. Without a reason. What is this fire? Burning slowly. My one and only. Desire.
You know me. You don't mind waiting. You just can't show me, but God I'm praying, That you'll find me, and that you'll see me, That you run and never tire. Desire."
~Desire
Ryan Adams, Demolition
I started checking out some live Marianas Trench performances in preparation for their Feb. 6 concert in Pittsburgh, and I couldn't be more excited. Those harmonies! Those high notes, that Josh Ramsay is able to scream out without missing the next beat. I couldn't be more obsessed, or impressed.
This song crept up on me as a favorite from "Astoria," but hearing it acoustic creates a new intimacy. The recorded version sounds like it ought to to head up a parade, with a baton-baring Ramsay as grand marshal, but the stripped-down setting reveals a little more self-reflection. I love re-hearing it this way, and I love this as an anthem of reclamation, the underlying theme of "Astoria" that becomes clearer the more you listen between the lines.
"God, it's been so long wide awake that I feel like someone elseI miss the way that you saw me or maybe the way I saw myself
But, I came back to you broken and I've been away too long
I hear the words I've spoken and everything comes out wrong
Just can't get this together, can't get where I belong
Who do you love? Well, I've been deep in this sleeplessness, I don't know why
Just can't get away from myself
When I get back on my feet, I'll blow this open wide and carry me home in good health
Screaming, Who do you love? Who do you love?
From fable to fumble, from stable to stumble, nevermore
I'll say goodbye to my demons and all my break-evens, ever yours
I, I won't come back to you broken, I won't stay away too long
Even if words I've spoken seem to still come out wrong
I'll get my shit back together, get right where I belong
Who do you love?
Well, I've been deep in this sleeplessness, I don't know why
Just can't get away from myselfWhen I get back on my feet, I'll blow this open wide and carry me home in good health Screaming, Who do you love? Who do you love?"
~Who Do You Love,
Marianas Trench, Astoria
"Before I die, take me to the place where we wrote our names wrong, but
they shared a space. Branches and leaves gathered between where you are
right now and where I wanna be. Between earth and sky, we'll build a
fire so high they'll turn all the lights out and all will sing: 'I am
alive, I deserve to be.' "
~Rage Against The Dying of the Light, Harmlessness
The World is a Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid to Die
I've been listening to Harmlessness daily for about a week now, and I can't believe how much I messed up not getting around to sooner.
I didn't listen to "Harmlessness" in full before making my AOTY list, and therefore excluded one of the most moving rock records of the year, right up there with Turnover. I've been familiar with The World Is a Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid to Die for awhile, and caught them on their headlining tour with The Hotelier last year, and while I was impressed by their showing I found their sound a little too disorganized for my taste, too much space and dissonance, not enough hooks, not enough cohesion.
"Harmlessness," though, is nothing but cohesive, as well as continuous and flowing and sad and poignant and beautiful.
There's something so polished about this record, though it still clings to the free-flowing thoughts that made TWIABP such a strange, enigmatic act from their debut. I love how it delves into the most insecure of thoughts, how it embraces so many sounds and strings, how it is difficult to tell where one song ends and one begins, flowing into an hour of broadened sound.
The startlingly quiet and warm intro track drew me in immediately, and the mysterious narrative of "January 10th, 2014" kept me engaged, as much as the rhythmic, cyclical melodies did. So much of this is poetry, the divulge-it-all and capture-the-moment kind. Later on, the last 55 seconds of "Haircuts for Everybody" sounds like what it feels like to cry, and when I heard that, that was when I knew I'd be playing this record over and over again, that I would not, could not, forget about it.
With so many bands, the sophomore album is a bit of a failure because it tries to recapture the lightening in a bottle that happened the first time. I wonder if the musicians of TWIABP ever had that moment of anxiety about that, or if they were confident the bolt struck them at the right time.
"Change your life. Please, change your life. Change my life. Please,
change my life. We spent the last twenty-three minutes hallucinating
over the phone. I kept both my hands still while we saw the same
building explode. Wreck this thing. Please, take it off the ground." ~Haircuts for Everybody, Harmlessness The World is a Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid to Die
The year begins with a healthy dose of shallow electropop, courtesy of Halsey. I didn't get into her record "Badlands" until it kept cropping up on AOTY and 2015 wrap-up lists her and there, and I'd heard "New Americana" enough to be intrigued by her style. I wound up listening to this record at least once a day this week, hooked on its hooks, and getting into the dark, moody vibe that's bound to take over radio playlists in 2016. I know I shouldn't like it. I think I'll be bored in another week. But it's edgy enough and too fun to turn off.
I dig the overall place these songs are coming from, overproduced and underdeveloped as they are. Between the likes of Halsey, Lorde and Alessia Cara, there's this growing cadre of female pop singers who write these really cutting, wry songs, ones about ditching the trendy scene, embracing weirdness, and cherishing introspection and originality over boy-chasing and booty-shaking. I'm into it, no doubt not as much as I would be if this was the narrative when I was in high school, but I'm glad that ~today's~ high school girls get to hear these messages in mainstream media, from the flavor-of-the-month pop stars, who are making it the norm to reject what you're sold and oppose patriarchy, an attitude that's for far too long been considered anti-establishment when equality ought to be the message from the top down. "I sold my soul to a three-piece
And he told me I was holy
He's got me down on both knees
But it's the devil that's trying to
Hold me down, hold me down
Sneaking out the back door,
Make no sound
Knock me out, knock me out Saying that 'I want more, this is what I live for.'"
~Hold Me Down
Halsey, Badlands
I'm particularly at ease as I sit down to write this list this year. It's the kind of thing that's an annual source of self-inflicted stress. While the AOTY list is a list that anyone who fancies themselves any kind of music "expert" or "critic" must be able to accomplish, I dread the work that it requires to reflect, write, compile. This year, though, it wasn't hard to find a free moment and begin typing. I knew most of this in my head, I had considered it several weeks before when I knew January was creeping closer. I kept a running Post-It list and refreshed my ears with a Spotify playlist. And I'm excited to put it out there, all this music that has meant so much to me.
2015, perhaps more than any other year in my adulthood, carried more emotional trials than I could have anticipated. I dealt with heartbreaks I could not predict. I faced fears I had been running from since I was an adolescent. I let people in. I let go. I ran farther, wrote faster and kissed harder than ever before. I gave up bad habits and picked up better ones, and I picked myself off the floor. I found surrender, I found self-love, I found the freedom and lightness a human can attain when you break your mind out of the fences of expectation, and now it is 2016, and I find myself still fighting for all of this, but with degrees of anticipation and confidence and the good kind of nerves, and I am encouraged. Most people reading this do not know most things about me; most people do not know most things about anyone, least of all strangers on the Internet, but if you are reading these words right now you can probably gather that that my lifeline (as it is maybe for you too) through all of this in life is music.
10) If I Should Go Before You - City and Colour
A late-year release that continues to captivate me, I didn't fully realize the brilliance of these songs until I had the chance to hear them live. And then I heard what I should've the first time - sweeping, elegant rock songs, with a timeless, bluesy feel, and Dallas Green's sorrowful interpretations of life and love. From the opening bars of the dark, groovy "Woman," you can tell this a record that uses the best of ingredients in the rock band pantry - heavy rhythm section, masterful solos, top notch vocals and hook-filled choruses. But mostly what I love about this record is how the sentimentality still steals the show.
Bound for trouble from the start
I've been walking through this old world in the dark
All along right by my side
There you were shining, my ray of light
~Lover Come Back
9) Permanence - No Devotion
When the day started to drag, when the week started to feel dull, this was the record to play to pick it up again. An indie favorite among a certain post-emo scene, the kind who might still care who Geoff Rickly is, the No Devotion record encapsulates a sound that's both reminiscent of a past era and somehow still trendy, walking one of my favorite lines. I love how synth-pop permeates the guitar parts, how new wave that sound is, matched with dark chords and stirring harmonies at the high-end of Rickly's vocal range. This record surprised me by how much I liked it, how fun it was to listen to, and also how unseen it was given its overall depth compared to acts in the same kind of genre. Ten thousand summers Cannot replace what we lost when you went away Ten thousand summers In the grass And though it's getting dark Remember this will pass
~10,000 Summers
8)Carrie and Lowell - Sufjan Stevens
So many
Sufjan fans fell by the wayside when his grand plans for a 50-album,
50-state spree stopped after two, myself included, as "The Age of Ads"
and his BQE tribute didn't seem to have the same heart. But Stevens'
musical brilliance, and poetic truths, shone through this year in the
most surprisingly stunning ballad collection, a heartfelt, intimate
tribute the love and loss and pain and quiet, awkward, awesome moments
that make up family. It's just too beautiful. When I listen to this record, I feel like it's OK to be curious and shy and passionate about the ones you love. Do I care if I survive this, bury the dead where they’re found
In a veil of great surprises; hold to my head till I drown
Should I tear my eyes out now, before I see too much?
Should I tear my arms out now, I wanna feel your touch
~The Only Thing
7) Run Wild - Lydia
Another one that really surprised me by how much I wound up listening to it. Lydia was a band I got into purely by Pandora association, despite knowing they lurked somewhere in the mid-aughts emo scene I'm so fond of. Choosing to get into them shortly before this release was somewhat serendipitous but also somewhat misleading - the Lydia that existed 10 years ago isn't the one that put out this radio-friendly, poptastic, shimmering party serenade. But I love it, oh how I love it, from the stammering chorus of "Follow You Down" to the wide-eyed dance rhythms of "Late Nights." Something about this record set the tone for a light and breezy ride, no matter how dark and heavy I felt, no matter where I was going.
I don't want to keep your heartache
And I don't want to feel your ghost
And I don't even know where we will go
Yeah, I'm just trying to make it home ~Late Nights
6) Pageant Material - Kacey Musgraves
There's so much to love about this record, which is one of the sweetest, funniest, smartest offerings country music had to offer in 2015 and one of my favorite morning sing-a-longs. Kacey Musgraves has a strong wit, sharp tongue and killer voice, wrapped in an aw-shucks-stoner attitude that makes her songs so original and listenable and just overall delightful. Her take on gossipy neighbors and nosy friends shows a mature mindfulness that you're more likely to read about on yogi websites than hear about in a country song, setting her apart from the usual heartbreak heroines. Musgraves is only two albums in but she's only getting better - and more sure of herself, too, if the "Dime Store Cowgirl" anthem holds up. I ain't exactly Ms. Congenial Sometimes I talk before I think, I try to fake it but I can't I'd rather lose for what I am than win for what I ain't
~Pageant Material
5) Peripheral Vision - Turnover
If ever there was a darker, dreamier record this past year, I hadn't heard it. Turnover came out of nowhere, relatively, to put out one of the most outstanding LPs in the alt-indie scene, one that cut through stereotypes of bands in the genre and threw down a new standard for moody yet upbeat tracks. This record soundtracked many a lonely night, injecting a shot of needy hopelessness right when it was needed, but in the most melodic fashion. There's a depth in production here that creates a really full sound, but still lets you pick out the guitar parts. So much delay!! And so cohesive, which is why I think it was so easy to listen to time and time again. "Peripheral Vision" is a tribute to the complications and anxieties in relationships, the kind that we all wish we could avoid, but if this is where the stumbles gets you, maybe it's worth learning your way through.
Would you come here and spin with me?
I've been dying to get you dizzy,
Find a way up into your head
So I can make you feel like new again
~Dizzy on the Comedown
4) American Candy - The Maine
This one really sneaked up on me. I had never listened to The Maine before "American Candy." What I discovered was the purest pop rock I'd heard since radio-friendly All-American Rejects tracks in high school, excellent parts and succinct playing. A perfect balance between light and dark, this record grapples with
issues of anxiety and self-consciousness and stereotype better than any
I've heard in ages, without being too obviously "fuck-the-man." Why it's not on other top 10s, I cannot say. Something this well-executed ought to be recognized - there isn't a bad track on this record, and it never left my rotation since it came out in the first quarter of the year. In a scene jam-packed with releases, that's not nothing.
Sometimes I feel as though I'm going mad when
I get a touch of saccharine on my lips
I hate the taste on my tongue too damn sweet
I don't fancy american candy, american candy
~American Candy
3) Something More Than Free - Jason Isbell
This record contains my favorite song of the year, the one that I played on repeat the most, with the chorus that still brings tears to my eyes. I was so obsessed with this record when it came out, and while I listen to it less in full, I still think it's one of the best showings of the year, with every track showing how timeless and tireless Jason Isbell's sound is. While his breakthrough on "Southeastern" gave us all a taste of what he is capable of as a songwriter and introduced us to his own personal angels and demons, "Something More Than Free" gives us more of a look into how he sees the world and what matters in, things like working hard and loving true.
"You thought God was an architect, now you know
He’s something like a pipe bomb ready to blow
And everything you built that’s all for show goes up in flames
In 24 frames"
~24 Frames
2) Astoria - Marianas Trench
The top two were really hard for me this year to balance out, because they both hit me in the gut. So consider this almost a tie...and consider them both the kind that lived up to high expectations. Marianas Trench may not be a well-known act in most music circles, and that might be the biggest oversight in critical estimations. I think Josh Ramsay is a brilliant modern pop composer and if you disagree, I guess you've never heard a little song called "Call Me Maybe." He is a production master - and he shines brightest in his own band, Marianas Trench, who write epic after epic after epic. This one might their strongest yet - clearly 80s inspired, and clearly heavy on the drama. But it's tight as hell when it comes to hooks. How "One Love" isn't tearing up the radio stations, I don't know. In the past month or so since I bought this record I've listened to it almost every day, and it only gets better. It only cuts deeper. "Astoria" makes me smile, it makes me cry, it gives me shelter, it makes me a fighter. If ever there was a band that proved pop music as a genre exists beyond what's on the charts, it's Marianas Trench, and if there was any rock album in 2015 that lifted my heart to places I didn't think it could still reach, it was "Astoria."
"Don't remind me what the price is when left to my own devices
'Cause I'll find out in all due time what happens to never say die" ~Astoria
1) No Closer to Heaven - The Wonder Years
When "The Greatest Generation" came out in 2013, I couldn't help but think that this big-sounding, on-the-rise rock band from Philadelphia, my favorite active artist, had the makings of a voice of a generation. When "No Closer to Heaven" dropped this year, I knew that inkling was spot-on. Dan Campbell has turned his musings outward, and this record finds pondering the sick, sad world around us as much as his own place in it. The band followed its strengths with this record, and they've wound up with some of their best-ever songs, like "Cigarettes and Saints" and "Stained Glass Ceilings." This is not a record for the faint of heart, as it has its fair share of thrashing and screaming, as well as some disturbed imagery, from car crashes to drug overdoses to gun violence. But in this aggression is a ferocious heart, one that refuses to quit, colored by drum rhythms for days and dueling guitar solos. To me, this is the essential combination for punk rock - an American critique offered by the minstrels of its lower middle class, and loud-as-fuck playing. But there's something else that that phrase "punk rock" doesn't quite capture, and that's literary-level vocabulary, narrative-style scene setting and that particular brand of maturity that only comes from traveling to mental depths so low, and so dark, and surviving them. No one does it quite like The Wonder Years does, and no band ever will. This god damn machine; hungry and heartless.
My whole generation got lost in the margin.
We put our faith in you. You turned a profit.
Now we’re drowning here under your waves.
~Cigarettes and Saints
Honorable mentions, for lack of enough listening to properly rank:
Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit - Courtney Barnett
Vitals - MuteMath
Traveler - Chris Stapleton
All Your Favorite Bands - Dawes
Dealer - Foxing
1989 -Ryan Adams (listened a lot, but didn't feel quite right to rank. Best cover album of all time, tho, for sure.)
