12/31/14

"Hold onto nothing
As fast as you can
Well, still, pretty good year."
~Pretty Good Year
 Tori Amos, Under the Pink

I've sang this line to myself more times than I can count over the years. How the meaning has changed. How each little word is relevant. Hold on. Nothing. Fast. You can. Pretty good year.

Can't say it better, really.

On New Year's Eve so many people seem to expect, or at least hope, something meaningful and magical will happen. It never really does. You never wake up the next day feeling all that different than you did the day before. Not because of a date on a calendar, anyway. Today, for example, I cannot feel my heart. Could I tomorrow? Might the fresh start of a new year make a difference? Past experience with 26 of these symbolic turns of the page tells me no, no, it does not. But that experience also reminds me change is a marvelous constant, possible and plausible to wreck you, ruin you, satisfy you, embolden you, each and every day, just as it proved to be this year... and so it shall be next year, too.

12/29/14

"Finding a light in a world of ruin,
Starting to dance when the earth is caving in,
Set in the sun and our hearts are burning,
Leaving the nest to the back a thousand winds,
We're ready to begin.

It's alright,
A bit scathed,
A bit lost,
I've been played,
I ain't that clever,
a city boy that can never say never,
I got the life but that girl bites like a wolf.

It's on me,
It's only,
A small heart,
On one sleeve,
Academy killer,
Off with his head
In the make believe game of fools,
That girl bites like a wolf.

Are you ready?
I'm waiting to begin."
~The Wolfpack,
Angels and Airwaves, The Dream Walker

This album is sick.  I will forever and always be an AVA defender. What interesting sounds. What kick-ass tension and tonality. I just love the taste of aggressive ambiance they provide, it is such a satisfying sound and I think Tom DeLonge is an underrated contender for one of the best rock vocalists out there - how distinctive his sound, how identifiable it's been throughout the years. It's probably one of the reasons Blink 182 got the mainstream play they did.

I haven't read any reviews of "The Dream Walker" yet, and I haven't taken the time to listen to it in full and concoct one myself so this observation will have to suffice: I am in love with this melody. The simple vocal matched with the complexity of layers. That synth part on the pre-chorus into the held out bell tone is the perfect kind of takeoff. Plus, I like wolf metaphors. This song is something of an earworm, one listen will not suffice, but it's an optimistic indulgence, a call to something reinvented and new, again. Easily one of my most-played tracks of the final stretch of 2014, where a get-through-the-day mentality has turned into something much more ambitious, assured and resilient. Uplifting, still-moody and otherworldy tones are quite the match for that.

I will also say, rerettably, it does not appear I have posted about Angels and Airwaves before. Which is a shocking shame and oversight on my part, as "We Don't Need To Whisper" is among my favorite post-high school, still-scene albums. One of these days I will buy it on vinyl and it will sound amazing, it is truly a wonderful little sonic experiment in sounds and layers that established this side project as something to watch with a life of its own. It is a love-against-the-odds saga against space-age sounds. There isn't a bad track in the bunch, in my opinion. "Do It For Me Now" is probably one of my favorites, because its build and crash and chorus are so heart-stopping and its declaration of love is cutthroat.

"And I don't know
And I can't guess
If we're gonna be OK
But now my last wish
Is that you do this with me
Kiss me here and hold my hand
Let me feel like I'm the only one
I know you can
Won't you do it for me now."
~Do It For Me Now
Angels and Airwaves, We Don't Need to Whisper

This album, too, is uplifting, and inspiring. This track, with its magnificent, large intro and and forceful rhythms underneath a blanket of delay, is impossible to ignore. This post does not suffice how interesting I find this album. What is also interesting to see how the lyrics overlap with the band's latest eight years later - laziness, maybe, or so a critic might point out, but also likely thematic inspiration. Sometimes we come back to the same place over and over again because that's where the good stuff lives. Even it feel the same, it is still a new experience to be created, produced, felt, shared, it is still something that can resonate. I'll always come back to this band to reminded of that, and to this particular this record to be reminded of hope against all odds.

"I cannot live, I can't breathe
Unless you do this with me
Hello, here I am 

Do this with me,
And here we go, life's waiting to begin." 
~The Adventure

Angels and Airwaves, We Don't Need to Whisper

12/23/14

"I didn't mean to leave you hanging on
I didn't mean to leave you all alone
I didn't know what to say,
I didn't know what to say.
 
Merry Christmas, baby."
~12.23.95
Jimmy Eat World, Clarity

There's this one shade of winter sky that is my absolute my favorite. It is the lightest kind of dark, it looks grey tinted with green and brown and nothing, with the smallest specks of stars dotted here and there and everywhere, and it's the shade you get when the snow is thick and quiet, when the world is so covered in white the sky can't bear to be too dark. Really, it's science, something about water and light and reflection and living by a lake, but to me, it's poetry.

This song is that sky. That sky is my heart -- tonight, and most nights.

On this day, simply because I believe in honorary things, I listen to this song over and over again. It is like rereading a book I haven't picked up in years, every word a memory. Is there a more memorable four-line song in the past decade and a half? Holiday themes aside, the bittersweet longing that pours through this is palpable, and uplifting. I cannot name all the sounds here, both pedal and computer generated, but they resonate so brightly, so purely. They encapsulate the timeless sound "Clarity" is so known and celebrated for.

This song is quiet night drives on poorly plowed and briefly traveled roads, cutting across fresh blankets of powder. This song is headphones against pillows in the middle of the night. This song is the earliest memories of love in a heart still full and optimistic, to the latest pronouncements of pet names and regrets.

Given this title and the song's relevance in being better than most every song ever, December 23 is sort of a de facto Jimmy Eat World Day. I spent the day listening to "Clarity," "Static Prevails," half of "Invented," and all the B-sides I can find. It is a good way to indulge myself to hang onto all these favorites, to lapse in the layers. It is so good to rediscover old favorites and adopt new ones. Like remembering how much I love "Episode IV," and how I have yet another example to point to when I argue that sleigh bells are the best kind of auxiliary for mid-tempo tracks, like those hidden on this "Chase This Light" bonus track, which is wintry in its own right and reference. .

Twice today, two of my bosses asked me why I have been so quiet this week, and I struggled to explain. "You must be really engaged," one said to me today. "Not necessarily the word I'd use," I said, "Just trying to focus." Because try is all I can do when all my head wants is to head somewhere in the clouds, somewhere far removed from my heart and my blood and my body, somewhere with notes and words and the kind of pretty-sad thoughts that make sense to my mind right now. For this reason I could never, never get used to living without music, because it is how I can feed that need while (hopefully) leaving enough brain power to get through the day as the functioning, capable, even successful and determined, version of myself I am apt to be.  Even my attachment to writing and words is flighty compared to the way I need to hear, need to listen to the works and creations of others when I must come back down to earth. Because words fail me often. Songs never do. At least, those of others.

The artists who've meant the most to me in this way are probably no more or less human than I am. They are probably no more or less emotionally strong, weak, troubled or triumphant than I am. They almost certainly, musically and artistically speaking, possess more talent than I. Perhaps that is what inspires me, what drives me to be better. Because who, or what, is to say that my own innate abilities couldn't produce something sufficient enough to satiate my own craving for notes and words and pretty-sad thoughts, let alone, god willing, those of someone else? Excuses are easy to find - initiative, ambition, follow-through, these are the markers of the successful creator, not the mulling and wishing and wallowing and waiting. Perhaps this sense of creative motivation is a philosophy to capture at the end of this year and carry into the new one. I think it is, anyway. It seems worth trusting. What's the worst that could happen?  Besides, if you can't trust yourself, why should anyone bother trusting you?



"let me have the keys and you can take a rest
from the lightless main street until the next
who knows what there was to see before the light turned green
there's so much hell to live

the static or the science; don't know which is worse
the dial isn't broken; that's the way it works
to the new professionals irregular is normal
it's all in how you pray
not what needs to change

don't get comfortable
don't be sensible
swing with all you have
stop me if you can

imagine we had canvas with the midnight cold
dig our fingers in and then we'd watch the snow
maybe i need stronger meds
don't let those feelings in
i can't get closer now

matters straight across and just for me to use
but there's always another choice; another way through
the notes in progress float along over your candle song  
the game is how you play
not who wears a ring

don't get comfortable
don't be sensible
swing with all you have
stop me if you can

i'm on the losing side
not every time
i'm gonna lose this love of mine

here are the words defined
not one is mine  
why are we still so afraid
the things we do deserve their rightful names

don't get comfortable
don't be sensible
swing with all you have
stop me if you can
~Be Sensible
Jimmy Eat World, Chase this Light

12/22/14

The impending start of 2015 means the new Decemberists album will be coming around soon, and that's promising. Does Colin Meloy's voice get better by the year? Will this band continue to trump everyone else in their genre, and cross through it, with excruciatingly meticulous songwriting? It seems so, even as they continue to embrace hook-structure and pop backbeats. I have always enjoyed this band but to varying degrees of obsession. I first heard "Make You Better" this fall and thought it was OK, then, last weekend, I heard it on WBER while cruising around my parents' neighborhood. It slapped me in the face a good bit, and it gets better with repeat listens, I've determined. At first, the first two lines bothered me, they felt lazy, but today, they feel intentionally exacerbating, every little bit more of wanting worth every little bit more of a mention. . The parallel construction in this song is so simple and expertly done. I love the phrase "starry-eyed," it feels like fairy tales do, I love the piano part, I love the delicate harmonies. I love the way Meloy's voice dips and falls on the "shimmer in your shine" line. I love the reflection, the need, channeled and categorized and contained. More, please.

"I want you, thin fingers
I wanted you, thin fingernails
And when you bend backwards
I wanted you, I needed you
Oh, to make me better

I'll love you in springtime
I lost you when summer came
And when you pulled backwards
I wanted to, I needed to
Oh, to make me better
Oh, to make me better

But we're not so starry-eyed anymore
Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters,
And won't it all just come around to make you,
Let it all unbreak you to the day you met her.
But it'd make you better,
It'd make you better.

I sung you your twinges
I suffered you your tattletales
And when you broke sideways
I wanted you, I needed you
Oh, to make me better
Oh, to make me better

But we're not so starry-eyed anymore
Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters
And won't it all just come around and make you,
Let it all unbreak you to the day that you met her,
And it'd make you better
Did it make you better?

And all I wanted was a sliver to call mine,
And all I wanted was a shimmer in your shine,
To make me bright.
 
Cause we're not so starry-eyed anymore,
Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters, 
And won't it all just come around and make you.
Let it all unbreak you to the day you met her,
But it'd make you better,
It'd make you better."

~Make You Better 

The Decemberists,  What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World

12/19/14

I generally enjoy listening to music on YouTube because it allows multitasking. I get to find out about new bands and random songs through playlists that keep me from toggling back and forth between tabs all day at work. Today, I realized "Hey, maybe I wrote off The Story So Far too soon," because I figured they were one of those annoying newish pop-punk bands that was all image and no substance....and maybe that is what they really are, I don't really know any of their songs, but I do know I heard this and it is all I want to listen to right now, it is rather beautiful, and these are my favorite chords.

"I think you'll notice when things become different
The good vibes in our lives won't feel so consistent
And less becomes more cause the weight is too heavy
I swim in the water that's breaking your levy

The way that you left me is alright, it's alright
If I argue the point then we yell and we fight
And I won't be home for the rest of the night
You might hate my words but you know that I'm right
You know that I'm right.

This is your life there's no way to run from it
The doubt in your brain or the pain in your stomach
I only have but one complaint at the moment:
Don't paint me black when I used to be golden.

The way that you left me, is alright it's alright,
If I argue the point then we yell and we fight,
And I won't be home for the rest of the night,
You might hate my words but you know that I'm right,
You know that I'm right.
Don't paint me black when I used to be golden."
 ~Clairvoyant,
The Story So Far, Sitck to Your Guns Split

12/17/14

The end of the year is a strange listening experience. I spend a lot of time going back through the year trying to figure out my top 10, while largely avoiding radio and its recycled Christmas music. In recent days during this endeavor, I picked up "Rented World" again, a record that captivated me in the spring upon release. It was everywhere. I had it queued up on Spotify for the mornings, blasting in the car to and from work, sitting in the record player. Seeing The Menzingers on their tour for this album was easily one of this year's best shows. Then somewhere along the way, as sometimes happens with the albums you inhale the deepest, I kind of burnt myself out on it. Summer turned into finding new artists, trying out the trends of the year, or revisiting past favorites. I don't know if I played this album once. So I was relieved this weekend when, on a long drive home, I put in "Rented World," and it sounded as good as it did the first time. Better, maybe - the sharpest parts stood out, the memorable lines rang loud and true. The heavy rhythm section thundered deeper than I recalled, and the strained, serrated vocals encapsulated the hope and anger and frustration at the self and the situation and the system as clearly as any pop-punk offshoot band could or should hope to aspire to. I've yet to figure out where my album rankings stand for 2014 but I don't think I can skip this one from a band I've only grown more attached to over time. Not when it's got so much power behind it, not when it was everything I'd anticipated it to be, and more.


"I used to lie to myself all the time
I was always over-reacting, screaming "I'm gonna die."
But now I'm five thousand miles from her head on my shoulder
From a night I spent sober screaming "I'm gonna die."

But all I ever wanted was to make things right
All I ever wanted was to make things right

Transient love, I was a ghost on your birthday
I was a runaway somewhere in a fabled mistake
Transient love, you should've seen the view from the pension
It made me think of things we'd never mention
The things we're too afraid to say

Like what if I spend the next few years
Just somewhere in some atmosphere
While you're at home with bills to pay
I hope it doesn't end this way

All I ever wanted was to make things right
All I ever wanted was to make things right
Over and over in my head, I've tried
But all I ever wanted was to make things right."
~Transient Love
The Menzginers, Rented World

12/10/14

An impending visit home, and the impending close of a tremendous, tumultuous year has me nostalgic for things I don't miss. It has me wondering what I've got to hold onto. It has me questioning if this newfound lightness is adjustment or apathy, maybe it is a little bit of both. Either way, it feels effortless but perfectly unnatural, like tripping off a cliff and falling so far and so fast you may as well be flying. Even though you were born without wings.

I've found the more ordinary and commonplace a feeling becomes - be it sadness or euphoria - the more you start to wonder what you're missing out on with the other extreme. Was the emptiness that bad after all? Wasn't it, in a way, kind of inspiring? Or, is crippling loneliness just a convenient cover for feeling sorry for yourself? And all along you were just missing out on where you were supposed to be?

Is there a better get-lost-in-the-pensive album this year than Aaron West? I answer with a resounding no. In a year where I've spent significant time working hard and trying to focus - always, always trying to focus - in the face of balancing combative emotions, I've found myself consistently coming back to this record for something stirring. Its emotional triggers are strong and significant and its composition is an unoffensive brand indie rock that is equal parts gruff and graceful.I like "Runnin' Scared," it makes me want to run, not scared, and feel a little fresh and free and fiery in the face of all this frozen snow and icy feeling.  I like the subtle references to desperation mixed with the outspoken appeals to it, like the line about the broken taillight. The story of Aaron West is a heartbreaker, to be sure, but I see something inspiring in all this empty, something.What is it to feel anything at all, if not that?

"I'm stuck on a memory,
Of you dancing in a backyard in North Jersey.
You're holding sparklers,
And silhouetted by the porch lights on a summer evening.
So, while I'm pulling my gloves off with my teeth,
It occurred to me you used to be happy.


I curse the dashboard heat,
It's fucking freezing.
Asleep in the backseat,
Oh god, I'm shaking. I'm empty.
I feel so damn empty.


I keep thinking
That I'll feel better when it's warmer across state lines.
Now I'm scraping ice off of the windshield with a piece of broken taillight.
Oh, I wouldn't quite call it homesick
but I keep seeing your face in the northbound traffic.


I curse the dashboard heat,
It's fucking freezing.
Asleep in the backseat, 
Oh god, I'm shaking. I'm empty.
I feel so damn empty.


I'm gonna go to Georgia.
I'm gonna smile in the sun.
I'm gonna pick you some wild day-lilies,
And I'm gonna hold on to them.
I'm gonna keep them in my pocket
Til you let me back home.
I'm gonna go to Georgia,
And I'm coming back whole.

I curse the dashboard heat,
It's fucking freezing.
Asleep in the backseat,
Oh god, I'm shaking. I'm empty.
I feel so damn empty."
~Runnin' Scared
Aaron West and the Roarin' Twenties, We Don't Have Each Other

12/9/14

"Guilty pleasures at best
gouge the floors of our chests
this, the only vestige left
Next time will be better, I guess

When I'd be alone
Happy alone
I'd be alone
Happy alone
Call what you want
and I'll be alone.

To presuppose this precipice
could be climbed by anyone of us,
that was my misjudgment.
I guess I best just shut up and and face that,

I'm not one to
Be three-fourths sore,
When I crave a split lip,
I get it quick.

And I'd be alone,
Happy alone.
I'd be alone
Happy alone
Call what you want
and I'll be alone."
~Happy Alone
Saintseneca, Dark Arc

Sometimes when I think about songwriting I have this really elaborate structure in mind, that there must be many lines and a big, gripping story, but maybe all you need, to succeed in being listenable, is a killer first line, hand-clap hook and three minutes and 20 seconds. I'm hooked on this track today, and its sort of surf-rock brand of indie folk. Anti continues to be one of the best indie labels out there, every time I check out one of their new artists I discover a new gem, even a new sound. Saintseneca is sort of rough and endearing in their songwriting quality, a little bit of that multi-instrumental chaos that I'm starting to find somewhat quaint, mixed with vivid, songwriting, something light and cleansing but not quite peppy, for this dark grey day.

If only YouTube playlists would work n this computer today, and let me get a little bit more hypnotized - at first listen some of these songs seem quite out of step with my regular tastes, with eclectic strings in the Appalachian-inspired hipster fashion that I've found tired in the past. But the  quivering vocals are folksy, plucked electric guitars are post-punk, and the blend is really quite satisfying. But "Happy Alone" is clearly the standout, stream-me-on-Pandora-and-play-me-in-a-movie track, and I happy to embrace it on my own.

12/4/14

I've been on a moderately obsessive Ingrid Michaelson kick for the past few days, in part due to lots of driving, in part due to taking the time to listen to her whole discography after being intrigued by "Lights Out." I could write a daily post on some of these songs from now until the end of the calendar year - "Sort Of" is the song of my heart, and "Maybe" is the song of my head and "The Chain" is pretty much my theme song, and it all just makes me want to hole up in my apartment for days and record an album. Mostly I love her for her melodies, these silky ribbons that carry high and fall low and repeat, repeat, repeat, keying in on a beautiful moment and never letting it go. "Lights Out" is delightfully hook-filled and poppy and I've found it great for daytime listening....but for pensive drives alone, the kind meant for singing and thinking, I think "Everybody" is such an incredible, rich album, to find those moments where heartbreak is met with solace, where acceptance is embraced, and where devastation is quiet murmur in a much louder storm...




"Baby you've got the sort of laugh that waters me,
And makes me grow tall and strong and proud and flattens me,
I find you stunning, but you are running me down,
My love's too big for you, my love,
My love's too big for you, my love.

And if I was stronger then I would tell you no,
And if I was stronger then I will leave this show,
And if I was stronger then I would up and go,
But here I am, and here we go again."
~Sort of
Ingrid Michaelson, Everybody



"I don't wanna be the first to let it go,
But I know, I know, I know,
If you have the last hands that I want to hold
Then I know I've got to let them go.

'Cause maybe in the future, you're gonna come back
You're gonna come back around."
~Maybe
Ingrid Michaelon, Everybody



"I'll never say that I'll never love,
But I don't say a lot of things,
And you, my love, are gone.

So glide away on soapy heels
And promise not to promise anymore
And if you come around again
Then I will take, then I will take the chain from off the door."
~The Chain,
Ingrid Michaelson, Be OK

11/26/14

Focus is hard to find today. I am hypnotized by this song, and also what's happening outside the windows, for hours now, feeling it better to get lost in something greater than myself. Soft snow falls hard, like a secret begging to be told, a promise hardly kept. Some kind of sweet, small magic, simple and private, turned torrential and vast. I am warm and so cold, here alone in a blizzard, and comfort nears closer with every heavy layer. I am stilled by the subtle quiet of delicate voice and muted drums and strings, by honest sweetness and shy unveiling of naked desires. I am not much for focus today, feeling it better to get lost and dream instead.




"I had a thought, dear
However scary
About that night
The bugs and the dirt
Why were you digging?
What did you bury
Before those hands pulled me
From the earth? 

I will not ask you where you came from,
I will not ask you and neither should you,Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips,
We should just kiss like real people do.
 
I knew that look dear
Eyes always seeking
Was there in someone
That dug long ago
So I will not ask you
Why you were creeping
In some sad way I already know.

I will not ask you where you came from,
I will not ask you and neither should you,
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips,
We should just kiss like real people do."
~Like Real People Do
Hozier, Hozier

11/20/14

"Two years now and I'm alone again.

Close your eyes and count to ten and tell me,
How the hell you've been?"

~Two Years

Have Mercy, A Place Of Our Own

One of my favorite albums this fall is Have Mercy's "A Place Of Our Own," a follow-up to a brilliant first LP called "The Earth Pushed Back." It's been something of a record to get lost in.

I can't get over what a good singer Brian Swindle is. His control is phenomenal, his scream is somehow elegant, his tone is sucker-punched and knife-twisting at the same time. His words are equally sharp and poetic, and I find myself singing these songs with great reverence to their structure. They've got this way of taking the strongest line and propping it up with screams and ascending chords and intricate rhythms, and the effect is absolutely gut-wrenching.  

"But what if I was the problem the whole time?
Well, I'd beg forgiveness and oblige.
The ground just opened wide and ate me whole.
Why am I so happy I could die?
There were no words to say 'goodbye,'

the ground just opened wide and ate you whole."

~Pete Rose and Babe Ruth

Have Mercy, A Place Of Our Own

Melodically, this band has proven they've gained some maturity - these are not static songs, and neither were the ones on the first record, but they've condensed them some. I think there's just as much feel and passion on this as the last one (which made it so damn good) but the wisdom of restraint has arrived. I love the reliance on thick, heavy chords contrasted with quick-fingered melodies. I love how bridges and pre-choruses explode in thundering drums and settle into to a beat.There is such a recognition of movement and dynamics here. I love indie rock bands that aren't afraid to be loud and pretty at the same time, that aren't afraid to toy with sad chords in aggressive functions, and so I like a lot of emo music. But lately bands have been building on this strategy in so many ways, and Have Mercy is writing the rulebook on how do it without being maudlin, strange or juvenile. 

Initially with this record, I was apprehensive of something of seemingly formulaic structure after hearing the early singles. But buying this and giving it many repeated listens upon release proved that was just expertise and polish shining through. Everything I first heard when I got into this band earlier this year gripped me instantly and got me hooked. Hearing their latest has something of a deeper connection, it has given me a mark and a moment in the close of autumn 2014. This record is me sitting alone in my bedroom up too late, it's driving aimlessly around the South Side on the last of the adventurous weekends, and wearing scarves to work. So much good music has come out this year and I had a lot of high hopes for many records, but this one, from a band relatively new to me, sneaked up on me as meaningful. We always anticipate the releases from bands we like will be memorable, important records, but we also never quite know if they'll suit the scene. Sometimes, you listen and realize what suits you is something you didn't expect at all.

"Soaking wet
And I bet this is the best night you've had in awhile.
Where we met
And I'll let you call me 'darling' but you don't mean it yet.

I was looking and you had dead eyes.
I could see everything.
You forgot the one rule:
Where we went to, I could tell you everything.
If you ever forget where, I will take you there."

~The Place You Love
Have Mercy, A Place Of Our Own

11/18/14

For all the trauma and pain of love songs, there exists a much more thrilling but equally dramatic parallel catalog. The one that sings of visceral places, those places where desire lives. This song, a perennial Pandora favorite, makes me feel like floating into love and never coming down, makes me feel like dragging fingers down spines and casting glances to the passenger seat. This, with simple piano, a hint of trip-hop modifications and a major chord transition does not contain much by way of words but says just enough with the right ones. The line about words, cutting you open, that's a real thing that can happen, but how much can happen when we reach beyond words, when we tap into those other places. Not all love is sad, after all. 

"Wake up look me in the eyes again
I need to feel your hands upon my face
Words can be like knives
They can cut you open
And the silence surrounds you and haunts you.

I think I might've inhaled you
I can feel you behind my eyes
You've gotten into my bloodstream
I can feel you flowing in me."

11/13/14

"We know full well there's just time
So is it wrong to toss this line?
If your heart was full of love,
Could you give it up?

'Cause what about, what about angels?
They will come, they will go, make us special,
Don't give me up.

How unfair, it's just our love
Found something real that's out of touch.
But if you'd searched the whole wide world
Would you dare to let it go?

'Cause what about, what about angels?
They will come, they will go, make us special,
Don't give me up,
Don't give me up."

~Not About Angels, Birdy

Another one to dance away the mornings to, another one with swollen hearts and eyes filling up the empty sonic space. Angelic vocals and pianos are almost requisite for this.

Some songs are like deep breaths, suffusing you, washing away the cluttered mess of broken tries and leaving you distilled to your finest nerves.

11/12/14

Nothing but Northstar. So much good new music has come out in recent weeks and I've got a backlog of thoughts to think and musings to post, but for daytime listening lately I keep coming back to these Glamour Kills YouTube videos from four years ago of Nick Torres acoustic. I would do bad things like take candy from children and cut off an old woman on the sidewalk if I meant I'd get an hour of songwriting with this guy.And I would like to turn around and scold all those folks chattering too loud during a too-good performance.

Torres's post-Northstar project, Cassino, said earlier this year they'd have new music by the end of the year. So that's something to look forward to. I'm counting down the days to the unknown.



"So this is how it ends, toxic and deliberate
She’s blood red at the neck boiling off fingerprints
This hospital love is making death seem elegant
“Just don’t breathe and we’ll stop time”
She said...
“I got this delicate lisp that speaks in tongues and upper lips”
Your silhouette's my favorite
I'm not letting go of it
I'm not letting go of it
She’s got a leash that grips my teeth
That cleans the air I breathe and
It’s wrapped around this city
You look so lovely running through my fingers
Running through my fingers
Where everything’s always felt right
You look so lovely running through my fingers
Running through my fingers
Where everything’s always felt right
So she glides off the bed with unflinching relevance
and completely motionless
You’re so heavy, you’re so warm
Just a pillow I've used a thousand times before
Wrapped in velvet and filled with thorns
I’ve got this weakening grip around her arms, around her hips
Your silhouette's my favorite
I’m not letting go of it
I'm not letting go of it
She’s got a leash that grips my teeth
That cleans the air I breathe and
It’s wrapped around this city
You look so lovely running through my fingers
Running through my fingers
Where everything’s always felt right
You look so lovely running through my fingers
Running through my fingers
Where everything’s always felt right"
~Pollyanna
Northstar, Pollyana

11/6/14

I won't ever feel better than I do when I hear the perfect song at the perfect time. Or, at least, I don't think I will, not when it is the ultimate comfort and satisfaction, the blissful calm in the middle of a perfect storm.

This morning I awoke to the new Copeland track and found it incredibly perfect. The slowness, the stillness, the build. This much piano is a delight, a refreshing classic delight, adorned with muted-before-spotlit rhythm, delicate falsetto and the swells of carefully strummed electric guitars. I've said "Ixora" is one of my most anticipated albums of this year and this track, "Erase," delivers nothing I could have imagined and everything I hoped to hear.

The first time I heard Copeland, I was in the passenger seat next to a boy I liked. I was a sophomore in high school. He was wonderful. So was "Beneath Medicine Tree," and its expounding emotion in heartbreakers like "Brightest" and "California," and assertive pleas like "There Cannot Be a Close Second." In a time and scene where this thoughtful sound fulfilled a softer side, I knew this band showcased talent of raw ability but I did not realize what potential there was to come.

Each of their full-lengths holds a special space in my musical memory. "In Motion" was a proper follow, hitting the same highs and extending past, then "Eat, Sleep, Repeat" tread further down the path of introspection. Then "You are My Sunshine" delivered their most masterful musical performance yet, a full-out tapestry of shades and tones and trills in the most serene, composed way. I've generally thought the mark of a true artist is one who can always grow, the one who is the effortless, endless ivy climbing up the wall, not the bold, bright petunias that will die with the coming season.

The more I listen to "Erase," the more I notice its brilliant little choices. How there isn't really any standard structure, but there is melody that carries and travels and comes to confluence with something like a refrain. How deploying the kick and the string section so close together creates a beautiful kind of crescendo, worthy of a symphony stage. How the spark of inspiration that roused these words is the stark scene of a singular, complex feeling, a feeling of melancholy, ache and tragic realism, a feeling that is love without mention of the cursed and capitalized word.

In this state, with this hope, I'm so looking forward to Nov. 24. I'm so looking forward to hearing more and getting lost. I missed out on the "Ixora" pre-order that comes with the one-week-early release, which was silly of me. That's alright, as I believe this one will be worth trying to hunt down in record stores rather than clicking through for it on iTunes. This one I want to hold onto. This one I want to study from all sides.

When I hear songs like this, when I listen to the soft honesty of pretty words and take in the brimming strings that serve as curtain to the patient epic grandeur, I cannot help but be inspired for something more to come. The music we hear that comes to mean something in our lives can come from so many places, and it can see us through so many more. Who can know how any art or life or love will grow?

"Sweetest taste, your armor
I can never know
Feeling, hold you're honor
Bright as falling snow
Now your heaven keeps me honest
But you can see my grey has faded
And you can't erase it

Never, I know you're waiting
Listening to your heart
No one seems to notice
That all my broken parts get mended
But I feel alone
And you can't erase it again

From my words your will was broken
Knowing I'll never get it back

Feeling all your worries, I can never know
Bleeding for your kindness, I cannot control
Heaven or your Hell when
I have nothing to offer you now
When you feel alone
But you can't erase it again

You're still a breeze upon my skin
Close my eyes, breathe you in
I'm still the shadows in your night
Taking over until I fade into your light
But you won't erase me
Heaven or hell will have to wait
You won't erase me
So you just colored me from grey

Oh, through the grey
I thought I saw your face
In there I was searching
And I saw these days
When you didn't know my name, oh
I can't help this awful feeling
That I can't erase you."

~Erase 

Copeland, Ixora

10/31/14

"Sympathy, this is my best disguise. 
My skin stepped out for my bones to dry up
For the rest of the world outside to see.
You see,you see I bleed on the side.
It's a part time thing, a private affair.
I try to keep it out of the light.
I must confess, I didn't recognize you tonight
Dressed up like my love."

When Gaslight gets it right, there is no doubt this is a band worth believing in. Sure, many have lamented "Get Hurt," and its cringe-worthy moments, but the band had the good sense to re-record "Halloween" in studio, and there, they capture the mood that makes this band great.

I am sorry I missed their tour this fall, because they are a truly excellent live band. They sit and settle together, they do not scatter, and through that they weave a dark and solemn sound, a powerful one at that. This track exemplifies this ability. This track is captivating. I love its patience and tension, I love its subtle structural changes and lack of a chorus. I love the way it gets you to listen, through wordplay and repetition. I love the way Brian Fallon, at his most capable, howls just so. I love how the story it tells is not one of perfection, but one marred in confusion and masquerade, persisting in spite. 

 

"And I hate these things but I always attend
A little sip of something to take off the edge.
And I make my way through the ghosts in the room
Trying to crack a smile
And who are you supposed to be?
You look like heaven tonight
Me, I'm a tomb, I'm a corpse in a suit,
Trying to look a little alive.

Are you alright?
Cause I worry sometimes
Are you dressed up to take my life?
Keep it coming, keep it coming.

Well I think I saw you for the flash of a moment
Your broken heart and the body that holds it
I lost your scent in the flash of the party
The big bright lights, baby, constantly haunt me.
I've never been right, have you ever been lied to?
I think I just saw the same scars upon you
Is this a disguise? Or a masquerade for me?
Keep it coming, 

Keep it coming, keep it coming.

Who are you supposed to be?
Yeah, you look just like my love.
Who are you supposed to be?
Are you dressed just like my love? 
Who are you supposed to be?
Yeah, you look just like my love.
Who are you supposed to be?
Are you dressed just like my love for Halloween?"
 ~Halloween
The Gaslight Anthem,Get Hurt

10/22/14

New discovery of the week comes courtesy of a catchy lyrical reference over at absolultepunk.net. Moose Blood is a good band, if you didn't know, a UK-bred emo quartet with high-energy tension, wallowing realities, poppy fills and enough lyrical references to merit footnotes. Their aesthetic is everything I like about the emo revival (and the exact one I've been in the mood for all day), and their 2013 release "Moving Home" is six tracks of guitar-driven goodness in fifteen minutes or less. Easy to take in, easy to hold onto. Nights like this are why I love discovering new music, and why it is so often what I do when I've got time to kill - because you never know what might sound perfectly right.

"Bukowski's growing old,

 this coffee's getting cold
I guess I'll never know
why you closed the window
Start reading Hemingway,
start drinking cups of Earl Grey, 
then I guess maybe one day..
I'll be yours forever
I'm the best book you'll never read
you make me feel like Jimmy Dean
you make me feel like Morrissey
when you undress from your best dress..

To keep warm, I'll bring a sweater
you can have mine, it looks better
and honestly, you can take it home. We'll take blankets to stay safe
I'll do my best to stay out of your way
then I guess maybe one day,
I'll be yours forever.
I'll introduce you to Clarity
teach you the words to 'The Sound Of Settling,'
make you watch High Fidelity
on a Sunday, maybe one day.

To keep warm, I'll bring a sweater
you can have mine, it looks better
and honestly, you can take it home.

To keep warm, I'll bring a sweater
you can have mine, it looks better
and honestly, you can take it home. "

~Bukowski 

Moose Blood, Moving Home

10/19/14

"Hey now, the past is told by those who win
My darling, what matters is what hasn't been.
Hey now, we're wide awake and we're thinking,
My darling, believe your voice can mean something."

~Futures 

Jimmy Eat World, Futures

The first time I heard those opening chords on this title track, from the computer speakers in the basement where I spent so much time alone listening to so many songs, I wonder if I knew I'd be playing it 10 years later. 

The future looked exciting then, if not amorphous. I knew I had one, knew it was inevitable, and I knew what made me feel good: music, friends,writing, creativity. But did I know how those things would coalesce? Did I know the highs and lows to come would rival the  best and worst I'd experienced in 16 years? Did I know how much I'd one day be able to make sense of myself, all the while holding onto the notes and messages and stories of those songs I took in at that very moment? Then, as now, I saw hope in what was to come, even if I didn't know how it would play out. I knew what feelings mattered and I followed them - ten years later, I've learned the importance of that.

I'd loved Jimmy Eat World for several years before this release. I'd already fallen in love with Clarity and already rattled off their name in the list of my favorite bands. This record was an anticipated arrival that did not disappoint, it carried hope and yearning and pensive struggle with some of the best hooks this band has created, while recapturing an alt-rock throne that cemented this band's legacy as royalty among a certain crowd. How many other bands can walk the line so well between assertive punk ("Pain," "Just Tonight") with radio-ready choruses ("Work," "Kill" ) and cinematic melodies ("Polaris," "23")?  Who even has since? 

I remember playing "23" and wondering where I'd be when I was that age. I remember singing it loudly in my car on that birthday, driving around Main Street with a friend who told me it was OK to sing. Hearing it today is funny. What I wouldn't give to be 23 again, to do so much so differently...but I suppose I must be happy it is this way, now, because once more there is a future ahead.

"You'll sit alone forever 
If you wait for the right time
What are you hoping for?
I'm here and now, I'm ready 
Holding on tight, 
Don't give away the end, 
The one thing that stays mine."
~23
Jimmy  Eat World, Futures

On this one, every track is a memory. Every memory is a place, a person, a feeling. Every transition on this record is seamless and I find I can listen to it from start to finish and reflect kindly on the years that have passed. Friends, lovers and internal discord from different chapters of life are interwoven with Futures maybe moreso than most of my others favorite albums, because it has never stopped feeling present, never stopped being relevant. Beyond that, it is incredibly listenable, and interesting. These songs are confident and dressed just-so. This era was before the too-many-instruments, too-much-laptop sound really found a foothold, and Jimmy Eat World, with their smart parts and truly dedicated post-production, exemplified the best that rock music could be in that age. The auxiliary on this album is more than background effect. It is a supporting character, illuminating pop structures with higher depth. Mostly I think this record has beautiful tones, a warm heavy mood from the combination of great songs, great guitar and subtle production - timeless, timeless qualities.

The title track became an instant anthem, full of sentient optimism. It is probably my favorite song from this collection. I believe it is also timeless, because of the reality it captures. I think those opening chords are the  perfect hint at the darker edges and fuller swells to come, I think they are a bold statement that commands attention. Such a Track 1 choice is risky, because you're trusting the rest of your album to match those first grand gestures - this is what separates Jimmy Eat World from other bands who try a big, open sound, is they can deliver it. 

Of course I cannot talk about Futures without talking about the cover art, as iconic as any of the age. Pay phones, imagery that would return on "Damage," and the dim spotlight of loneliness. It is pensive, and perfect. 

In continued tenth anniversary commemoration, here is the only song I know how to play from this album. I didn't do a very good job performing it cleanly, but it comes from a place of respect and admiration, and also, the heart.

"Don't think we're not serious, 

when it's ever not?
The love we make, it's give and it's take, 

I'm game to play along."

~Work, 

Jimmy Eat World, Futures

10/16/14

Lately I've observed how music is as much a physical manisfestation as it is a sonic one. Its presence is so very tangible. 

I spent 20 minutes the other day looking through an old beat-up CD binder and sifting through piles of cracked jewel cases looking for this particular disc (to no avail, yet). I fiddle with the cord on my headphones throughout the day, and try not to sing to myself. I come home and pry open a sleeve to slip out the dense, thin vinyl and smell its decades-old dust or plastic newness. Then I settle in and put my fingers to strings, in hopes they'll come to an understanding with each other this time. And some days, I wake up too early and stretch my spine and extend my toes toward the sky, crack my bones and balance to the tune of the piano, focusing on time and space and little else, for in some moments, this connection is the key to clarity, arriving unexpected where the mind and body meet. 

"Love,
I won't break your heart,
it's a long way down from here,
every time you fall and break apart,
i will pick you up again.

With your head up high,
would you try,
try to place your feet back on the ground,
I found that its easier to hide,
in the cold alone,Unraveled since the day you fell apart,
oh but honey i'm alive.

Love,
I won't break your heart,
cause I've seen this all before,
you're a fire that grows from just a spark,
and then walks right out the door.

With your head up high,
would you try,
try to place your feet back on the ground,
I found that it's easier to hide,
in the cold alone,
Unraveled since the day you fell apart,
oh but honey I'm alive.

Crying on the phone,
when you said you were alone,
I am gonna stay,
though your friends have gone away,
all the secrets that we have,
only keep the worlds alive,
but you've got something left to give,
if you'd only learn to live.

With your head up high,
would you try,
cause your the only one to pull me through,
it's true,
and it seems a waste of time,
to grow old alone,
we've been dyin since the day we fell apart,
oh honey i'm still alive, i'm still alive."
~The Day You Fell Apart

The New Frontiers, Mending

10/8/14

Three in the morning and the sad songs didn't start til 2 a.m. But it was just the right timing, past the point of hoping for sleep while verging on acceptance of the insomnia ahead. Somehow it took several hours of tossing and turning and ruminating before I sought sonic distraction.

Of course, as is often the case, the most suitable finds were perfectly randomized. Old favorites whose notes felt warm and comforting to tired ears, plucked by an algorithm with no knowledge of my state of mind. Listening to these familiar songs, played in past desperate times, reminded me this, all of this, too, shall pass, be it three to five minutes and four to six chords at a time.



This song. This song is meaningful, with glimmering darkness that swallows you whole. Few words, small melody, with cinematic, visceral sound. It reminds me of worse times, and better ones, the safe familiar vision of that light so far in the distance.

"Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And the worst part is there's no one else to blame."

~Breathe Me, 

Sia, Color the Small Ones

What a find. This album is a perennial rediscovery,and well-worth it,because it's solid from start to finish and desperate folk-sad with an alt-rock sound. Haunting vocals, which, I'd say, all three of these tracks have in common. This is a song for rainy nights and whiskey tears. I'm halfway there.

"Anything to make you smile
You are the ever-living ghost of what once was
I never want to hear you say
That you'd be better off
Or you liked it that way

But no one is ever gonna love you more than I do
No one's gonna love you more than I do."

~No One's Gonna Love You More Than I Do 

Band of Horses, Cease to Begin




Early-stage Radiohead. What more is there to say? Truly one of the best albums of all time, a precursor to the genius works to come with a little bit of that grunge rock angst still kicking around the edges.. Think I found the right album for the remainder of this sullen night. One that provokes a little thoughtfulness, a little depth, which are the intellectual ways to describe wallowing, I think.

"Two jumps in a week
I bet you think that's pretty clever don't you boy?
Flying on your motorcycle,
Watching all the ground beneath you drop
You'd kill yourself for recognition,
Kill yourself to never ever stop
You broke another mirror,
You're turning into something you are not

Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry,
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry.

Drying up in conversation,
You will be the one who cannot talk.
All your insides fall to pieces,
You just sit there wishing you could still make love.
They're the ones who'll hate you,
When you think you've got the world all sussed out,
They're the ones who'll spit at you,
You will be the one screaming out.

Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry

It's the best thing that you ever had,
The best thing that you ever, ever had
It's the best thing that you ever had,
The best thing you ever had has gone away.

Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry,
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry,
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry,
Don't leave me high, don't leave me dry."

~High and Dry 

Radiohead, The Bends

9/30/14

"Maybe every promise anybody makes 

Is destined for the rocks
The longer it takes
Daylight is so close I can almost taste it
It's all I got, and it's not right

Everything is broken in my mind
Ain't no place to run
Ain't no place to hide
Don't wanna lose control
Baby I just might."

Is there any better antidote to any sick feeling than the perfect guitar line? No, not really, and so often I find what I'm looking for in Ryan Adams. His latest record did not disappoint., It exceeded my expectations, stepping up its aggression from the pretty yet maudlin folk of Ashes and Fire, tapping into a classic-rock cadence and delivering the straightest, surest messages from a crooked, complicated heart. The first time I heard "I Just Might," I must've played it a dozen times in a row, on a sullen, pivotal Wednesday night spent pacing and gnawing at my fingertips. Songs about this kind of desperation - the mad kind - are hard to do in this blues-rock style without coming off as kitcshy, but his always-sharp playing and subtle melody changes add sophistication to chords and structure that, in less masterful hands, could feel far less effective and elegant. I love love love this song. 

See how slowly it builds? See how effortlessly it repeats, but not quite? Hear how far a little tambourine can go? The final bars and the outro are  perfectly contrasted, a dash of uplift followed by the now-familiar shadow of a melody. His lyrics and imagery, as they are on the rest of this fulfilling self-titled, are direct, dramatic and precise - "shaking in the wind like a lame excuse," "ghosts dwell in the streets from a hit and run."  The pace toys with the idea of increasing without really committing, never hitting that point of no return into an all-out break, but it feels like it just might, proving how sound can better encapsulate a feeling than most, or any, combination words may ever hope to. Though I like these words, though they mean something to me, the composition here tells the story. This is what it sounds like to feel tangled and naked and obvious, lost and dark but so, so aware of the ever-approaching brink. What a precarious place. 

This is, I think, one of my favorite albums of the year, for so many songs and moments. I could see where it sounds too familiar to feel fresh, but these songs are ripped from the pages in so many ways, and crafted with such expertise that I am hard pressed to find a better recent example of what it means to write good, pure songs, straight from the heart and the lips and the strings, than these. The last four tracks, in particular, are my favorites. I will listen to them much more before this year is through, and this everlasting Ryan Adam's admiration/inspiration grows.

"Hell is rising in front of my face
I'm free from desires, I rise above the maze
Every step I take, closer to the sun
Darkness is so loud, surrounding everyone
Ghosts dwell in the streets from a hit and run
Keep your head down
Keep your eyes shut tight
Don't wanna lose control
Baby I just might
Don't wanna lose control
I just might
Don't wanna lose control
I just might
I just might

You make a wish, you want it to come true
But somewhere underneath all the hope is the truth
Prayers go unanswered
You're waiting for the proof
Don't know what to say
Don't what to do

Maybe every promise anybody makes is destined for the rocks
The longer it takes
Daylight is so close I can almost taste it
Don't know what to say, don't know what I said
Everything is broken in my head
Lost out in the darkness, looking for the light
Think I'm gonna run
Baby I just might
I might,
I might,
I might,
I might..."

~I Just Might
Ryan Adams, Ryan Adams

9/25/14

This is my favorite Black Keys song of late, though it's not new. I suppose I first heard it on a breeze-through listen of El Camino after its release, an album I appreciated but never listened to much, as I always favored the older stuff. "Little Black Submarines" re-entered my consciousness as a radio edit in mid-August. Now it is a weekly, or daily, obsessive listen.

It's classic Black Keys in the best way, dreary and aggressive, composed and chaotic. They performed it during a magnificent spectacle of an arena tour in Pittsburgh earlier this month, and I felt stunned by Dan Auerbach playing solo in spotlight. I felt shaken by the kick kicking in at the bust, enraptured by the newfound attack of the hook. Subtle tambourine and synth harken back to this band's earlier days, the ones of rebellious distortion and analog glory. Then everything collides, a punishing offensive of one loud-ass guitar and a little of everything else backing it up. Auerbach's effortless cool is trademark, and rugged, and I can't think of a better sound than his vintage pedal-fuzz to accompany this hardening of hearts. Lyrical brilliance has never been this band's strong suit, though it has never needed to be with this kind of blues-rock feeling, and yet here they hit their mark with dead-on aim, with a story of a desperate broken heart sullen and thrashing in its own misery.

Vulnerability never sounded so tough.




"Little black submarines,
Operator please,
Put me back on the line.
Told my girl I'd be back
Operator please,
This is wreckin' my mind

Oh can it be,
The voices calling me,
They get lost,
And out of time,
I should've seen it glow,
But everybody knows,
That a broken heart is blind.
That a broken heart is blind.

Pick you up, let you down,
When I wanna go
To a place I can hide.
You know me, I had plans,
But they just disappeared,
To the back of my mind.

Oh can it be,
The voices calling me,
They get lost,
And out of time.
I should've seen a glow
But everybody knows
That a broken heart is blind
That a broken heart is blind.

Treasure maps, fallen trees,
Operator please
Call me back when it's time
Stolen friends and disease,
Operator please,
Patch me back to my mind.

Oh can it be?
The voices calling me
They get lost
And out of time.
I should've seen a glow
But everybody knows
That a broken heart is blind
That a broken heart is blind
That a broken heart is blind."
~Little Black Submarines
The Black Keys, El Camino

9/21/14

"I took a trip down south and felt the sun on my face,
and it made things OK for a second.
I drew a picture of my problems when I was going insane.
And I focused on the currents.
It's the funny thing about it,
I never seem to worry that every single current's not the same.
It's all about position, and where I choose to lay.
And God, I am going away."

I heard this song for the first time in awhile today, a surprise find on a borrowed iPod. I heard this song with fresh ears today, and it meant all the same that it used to, filtered through a new lens. I think this was one of the first TDS songs I really *heard*, sometime while living in the Finger Lakes racking my brain over how to do better at my job and not fuck up relationships.  That was four years ago. Some things, they don't change - like the constant drive for self-exploration and development AJ Perdomo captures so well. This album, I think, is certainly his best. From the time I first heard it, I remember loving the drama in his voice, the slow-climb guitar parts and the intensity of the minor chords. This song in particular is a lesson in how to build tension with tight patterns and throw grenades in a bridge, a step one example of the kind of pop punk/alt rock made all the brighter and better by its intelligence, thoughtfulness and dig-deep awareness. This song was a good one to hear today, offering comfort to a wild, raging heart and a line of scripture for a tired head, making things OK for a second. 



"Would you believe in my songs
if I gave them all to you?
I can find the strength in my voice
to call you back and say that everything is bad without you
and I'm lost again, oh God believe I'm lost again."
~Weathered
The Dangerous Summer, Reach for the Sun

9/11/14

"I had a dream I was being dissected by all of my friends, and I was so scared of the scalpel. Anytime it was raised to make another incision, I would start crying and screaming even though I knew I wouldn't feel it. Everyone would verbally try to soothe me, and I kept screaming for someone to touch me so I knew I was still alive, but it's like they weren't sure either. The next thing I remember, I was standing outside in some field, and I felt perfectly fine. Then I sat down, and suddenly it was like the sutures ripped, and all my organs fell out." 8-11-05

(I have no place else to put that, so there it is. I wrote those words years ago, and yet, I remember that dream crystal clear.)

This is my favorite song I listened to today. It came into my head this morning, after waking up at 6:30 a.m. when the sky was still dark blue for the first time this season. That, and the chill in the air, says to me it's changed for good. Until next summer, anyway.

So this morning, I put this song on, from an old album from a previous life that resonates perhaps truer than before but has not lost its pretty quality. Now, I am not a Matt Nathanson apologist. Rather, I genuinely think he's a great songwriter and performer. He sets lyrics very well, he writes satisfying progressions and melodies. I love the simple piano in this song, the effortless ascension and suspension that holds and wavers and fades. And I love the desperate questions. What is it about songs about New York that are just somehow sadder than the rest? And what is it about the impending loss of intimacy that makes seeing the world outside go on about its business feel so much more empty? Why does it feel like the seasons are changing? Probably because they are.



"Somewhere in between
The beginning and the end
September took the tourist
And settled in for good

You could hear the trains again
Brooklyn girls in scarves
Summer left and no one said a word.
We'd open your window,
Stay in your bed,
All day 'til the street lights came on

So what happened to bulletproof weeks in your arms?
What happened to feeling cheap radio songs?
What happened to thinking the world was flat,
What happened to that?

Up on 59th street,
Right before the rain,
Lovers catching taxis going downtown.

I'm talking to what's left of you
Watching what I say
Counting all the freckles on your perfect face

You open your window,
And I stay on your bed,
Just hoping that right words will come.

So what happened to bullet proof weeks in your arms,
What happened to feeling cheap radio songs,
What happened to thinking the world was flat,
What happened to that

So what happened to bullet proof weeks in your arms
What happened to feeling cheap radio songs
What happened to thinking the world was flat
What happened to that?

 It's all gone,
Love, it's all wrong.

So what happened to bullet proof weeks in your arms
What happened to feeling cheap radio songs
What happened to thinking the world was flat
What happened, what happened to that?"
~Bulletproof Weeks
Matt Nathanson, Some Mad Hope

9/8/14

What do hearts sound like when they break at 4 a.m.? What does it sound like when the light is gone, when the conscious mind goes dark and detached from the best of experience and intention?

It sounds a little like floating, a little like falling. Visceral and delicate. Fragile. It sounds spacey, with intense, focused vulnerability. These sounds, nearly angelic, are bright and flickering and patient with themselves and everything I am not.

I put this album on the shelf most of this summer, after initial captivation. I enjoyed its sound despite its critical flop, I thought its ambiance was moving and heartfelt and captured a quality blend of electric sounds and rich, deep layers. But I thought it was really sad, it was kind of a downer and tells sad, sad stories, and I just wasn't there with it, at least, I didn't want to be, and now, tonight, this song is kind of my own sad story and the perfect accompaniment to my insomniac misery, the kind that lasts on repeat for hours and obsessives over small details in memories, like long, elegant fingers tracing my arm, like whispers echoed close against my neck. So too can I fixate on the small details in sounds, in delay, the soft swell of blissfully faked-out strings and synths, of two-to-three note piano melodies tying together one-off lines, simple and clear and resounding.

Thoughts are dangerous weapons, and the night is a silent, still place where they ravage and tear peace to bits. Best to give them something to slice up, something to occupy their vicious progression as the hours pass and the sky lightens and the dark doesn't feel so lonely anymore.



"I think of you, I haven't slept 

I think I do, but I don't forget.

 My body moves, goes where I will 

But though I try my heart stays still 

It never moves, just won't be led 

And so my mouth waters to be fed 

And you're always in my head,

You're always in my head.

This I guess is to tell you

You're chosen out from the rest."

~Always In My Head
Coldplay, Ghost Stories

8/31/14

Today I get to see my favorite band play for the first time. Since 2010,The Wonder Years have been my link to the past and soundtrack to the present, the kind of pop punk that touched upon everything that made me love the genre way back when in the first place, deepened with an of-age maturity perfectly matching my own struggles, trials, inner demons and dreams. Dan Campbell and company created a tremendous force in a genre ever-shifting, ever-changing, ever running from its own stereotypes without sacrificing their own progression. For this, and for the countless hours spent singing at the top of my lungs, I love them. Check out the tag at the end of this post. You'll see.

I get to see The Wonder Years today, and it's mostly because I live in Pittsburgh, a major market with a devoted community of promoters who work hard to deliver the best of the scene, and one-of-a-kind events like the Four Chord Music Festival. It's been such an improvement in my exposure to bands and overall quality of life to be able to find out a band is touring and know there's a pretty good shot they're coming through a local venue, after I spent a year and a half missing out due to having to travel to D.C., Philadelphia or Baltimore to see the bands I love.

Shows were immensely important to me growing up. They were the only place I felt sort of cool - at school I was an over-achieving nerd, at ballet class I was a tortured young artist, but in my basement blasting Taking Back Sunday or The Early November, I felt alright, understood. Thee early 2000s eruption of indie, emo and pop punk bands gave me an anchor, and I clung to it. Going to see the bands I loved live meant dancing and yelling and gaping in awe like a fool, but it also meant being part of a crowd I didn't have to run from or morph in front of to fit in. I saw kids like me, and older ones with tattoos and cigarettes I'd one day emulate, in my own way. My fascination with stage and performance developed, learning to hear the acute differences between guitar parts and memorize set lists. The fixation eventually carried over to other parts of my life, when wearing band shirts and listening to headphones in the hallways led me to some of the best friends I ever made.

I'm no longer a mousy girl in checkered Vans with a button-covered messenger bag waiting outside the back door of The Bug Jar, but that feeling that drove me there never left. In some ways, my ability to satiate it has only increased with the time and resources adulthood can provide. Sure, I sometimes feel old (there was that time I went to the Touche Amore concert in my work clothes and high heels) but I'm so grateful to be able to indulge this part of myself, now more than ever. So, cheers to the Pittsburgh music community for giving me an outlet again, for enriching my 2014 with so many incredible shows, sounds and memories, for giving me another spin with that all-time favorite companion, distraction and medicine of live music.

Should be a great show.

"I've been acting like I'm strong
But the truth is, I've been losing ground
To a hospital too crowded,
A summer winding down,
I hadn't seen a heartbreak until now,
I hadn't felt a heartbreak until now."
~Dismantling Summer
The Wonder Years,The Greatest Generation

8/27/14

I've become very excited for the LPs to come in the final third of 2014. Among them is Ryan Adams, an artist I will tirelessly follow through all his hills and valleys. It's been three years since we heard his new material (the backstory of why is pretty sad and fascinating in its own right) but when I listened to the opening bars of "Gimmie Something Good" I knew it would be worth waiting for. This guy's songs will never be bad - they will never be, because he knows what he is doing - but maybe, hopefully, I'll find the subtle changes he's made in his taste and structure fit just so with my own slight progressions toward maturity.

I love how hook-filled he made the chorus, how anthematic, and the little bright, resonant intro to it that is just other-worldly enough to play into the off-kilter bluesy quality. He plays guitar like no fucking other but everyone all at once, and I love that. His style is instantly recognizable for its commitment to resolve and clean-stroke aggression. This song has easily been one of my favorite singles of the year, mostly for the chorus but also for all that reverb. The last album he put out clung to the softer side, and though I loved it and found it gorgeous, here we have amps cranked up and electric-fueled energy, like the old days, and it's a refreshing sound, one that sounds like reclamation. It's in the chorus, too -- a cry for revival.

Lyrically I love how his words tend to flash between the past and present, how he would go on for sentences. But this is much more abrupt, direct, succinct, and where one could say that reflects a lack of creativity in metaphor, you can also say it means he's getting the point across better. Unlike other forms of writing, lyrics don't need to be direct to be good. Neither do they have to be overly flowery. This song is as straightforward as it gets, and it excites me to hear what other proclamations are in store come Sept. 9. 

I've found I enjoy listening to artists progress, especially those who apparently seem like they've already reached their peak in days gone by. When you do this, you learn everyone still has something to prove. Every artist still has a story to tell. When some have written them off, when they themselves may have done the same, the words and notes leave these little cues of how they've processed and come back from that, and a song like "Gimmie Something Good" provides no better lesson. I could talk for days about how brilliant "Easy Tiger" is, or defend "Rock 'n' Roll" to the haters, and I'm sure I'll read lots about how even with his upcoming self-titles accomplishments, Ryan Adams is still no longer the rock star he was. But for tonight I'll just play the new stuff and look forward to hearing more. For now I'll just appreciate hearing the old and the familiar in the new and irresistible.

"All my life,
Been shaking,
Wanting something,
Holding everything I have like it was broken
Gimme something good,

Gimme something good

Gimme something good

Gimme something good..."

~Gimmie Something Good
Ryan Adams, Ryan Adams

8/18/14

"I can't leave with words like these
They'll break the bones that hold up my sleeves
I've got to tie her so high her breath freezes before she speaks
But this bus just won't go far enough
So I'll strap my face to a homemade bomb
And blow the bus stop through the parking lot
We'll celebrate like we were free

I know a place where we can both get laced
Take some time to learn about your face
About bawling and bell curves, about strength from inhalers
And I'll take the fifth and you can just sit
And I'll watch from a distance while you open it
This is how I will keep her 

In pieces, she's a keeper

And I'll be holding my breath with the best
My breath with the best intentions

This is not for me, your perfume struggles perfectly
It wraps around and screams at me,
'My hero tastes like plastic, he's elastic and now he's dead.'

My straight-faced grin is the first to leave
Hand in hand with the queen of tragedy
Why do I hurt just on purpose?
I guess I lack a purpose
So smile like a child sitting in the sea
Forget about what's in the water and just focus in on me
I'll be the phantom of the opera
I'll be the lantern you blow out first

And I'll be holding my breath with the best
My breath with the best intentions

This is not for me, your perfume struggles perfectly
It wraps around and screams at me,
'My hero tastes like plastic, he's elastic and now he's dead'

And I'll be the reason you'll leave this city.

And I'll be the reason you'll leave this city.

This is not for me, your perfume struggles perfectly
It wraps around and screams at me
'My hero tastes like plastic, he's elastic and now he's dead.'"

~The Pornographer's Daughter

 Northstar, Pollyanna

Caught a story last week ranking the definitive bands of years and eras, and it made me realize what a difficult task that would be for me to do on my own, in a subjective, personal sense. Often, bands I encounter don't take hold on me until one or two or six years later, when mood and measure align - and so the band may have made its mark on music long before it did on my mind. So it shows up later on my timeline, likely in stronger sense than when I first took a listen and underscored by rediscovery.

One of the best examples of this is Northstar, whose 2005 "Pollyanna" is something of a cult favorite, a particularly warm brand of emotive pop punk with ballad roots and aggressive fills. The contrast between the latter is usually perfect. 

While I knew this record back when, I took more of an instant liking to Cassino,the side project of singer, lyricist and guitarist Nick Torres. Not until the past couple years has this album become something I really appreciated; not until the past couple weeks did it become one of those I'd rather listen to than almost anything else. Baked with sadness, regret and visceral metaphor, decorated with the precise guitar lines you might expect from a band of this era, Northstar shines a little brighter than the rest of their scene in the rear view. 

Their best lines and harmonic progressions dance in perfect step, accentuated with subtle rhyme. Their minor-side melodies come from fast, controlled fingers, their rhythm section is pop punk mastery, adding muscle and movement to the skeleton of not-quite-lost love poetry.  "Pollyanna" is an album where hope is hardly visible, a dying flame, but the momentum of its flicker is just enough to burn the whole place down. I'm enraptured, always, by the word choice, by the unique structure of snaked along sentences and in-the-moment reflections. I'm singing along at the top of lungs, wishing I could say it all this well, wishing I could realize in this way. It may be nine years since these songs found ears willing to listen, but it's tonight that mine have found them to hear.

"I've got this weakening grip
around her arm, around her hips.
her silhouette's my favorite,
I'm not letting go of it.
I'm not letting go of it.

She's got a leash that grips my teeth, 

that cleans the air I breathe
It's wrapped around this city.

You look so lovely running through my fingers,
running through my fingers
where everything's always felt right.

You look so lovely running through my fingers,
running through my fingers
where everything's always felt right.

I will chase it, grab it, stake it
Run until she fakes it,
We all blew faster,
An oncoming disaster,
I will let this hurt.

You look so lovely running through my fingers,
running through my fingers
where everything's always felt right.

You look so lovely."

8/15/14

"Don't ask me where I've been
Cause you don't want to know. 
Don't ask me who I'm seeing, 
No, you don't want to know.
Don't come around here 
When I need you the most.
Leave it alone, 
Leave a little room for the holy ghost. 

Now your pretty horses run wild and free,
You can go and find a lover, baby, better than me.
Talking snow for days with your friends in La, 
Have mercy.

Now your pretty horses run wild and free,
You can go and find a lover baby, better than me.
Talking snow for days with your friends in La ,
Have mercy."

I like it when songs devastate me.

No, I love it. In the way I love strong coffee and long drives, in the way that makes me feel OK being alive and feeling feelings, which for me, like most humans, is a complicated endeavor. So I find songs that devastate me, that speak to whatever hurt I harbor and exacerbate it,like needles in the wound. Sometimes, those songs find me.

The new Gaslight record offers much to discuss in term's of growth, reputation and catalog. But why talk about that right now, when the best moments are those of supreme heartbreak, perfectly channeled bedroom poetry accompanied by muted guitars and ghostly, dark vocals? I see all this when I am transfixed by the final bonus track on the iTunes release, one of the saddest songs Brian Fallon has ever written, one that is cloaked in the despair of loss and yet accepting of its own loneliness. I played it far too many times this week. It is an instant favorite, the kind of song I won't forget, the kind of song I would send like as a message in a bottle, that I would rather wrap myself up in all day than go out and put on whatever face and front is needed to get through the day.

8/9/14

"And when our voices fail us we will find new ways to sing.
When our bodies fail we’ll find joy in the peace that it brings. 

The world is a beautiful place but we have to make it that way.
Whenever you find home we’ll make it more than just a shelter.
And if everyone belongs there it will hold us all together.
If you’re afraid to die, then so am I."

~Getting Sodas
The World Is a Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid to Die, Whenever,If Ever

Lately I've been getting lost in the atmosphere, a conscious decision but a natural one. This morning I am hard pressed to find a band with a better grip on what it means to do this than The World Is a Beautiful Place and I am No Longer Afraid to Die. The post-rock swells and elaborate guitar parts build and decorate emotional weight. While their sound captures many tropes and styles of emo indie rock spanning decades, TWIABP feels larger than that label implies. They are as dramatic and grand as their name promises. 

Instrumentally, they work in textures light and dark, floating as often as they come crashing down. I love the rhythm section's work on their 2013 debut LP "Whenever, If Ever," playing with beat-focused intros as much as they sit back and let the guitar carry the climax. I love how Thomas Diaz choose to sing and shout, I love how scattered he seems and the way his words so often seem to cry out in hopeless recognition. He is as conversational as he is reflective, in the way early Death Cab for Cutie is, blending scenes of trees, cars and bedrooms with self-aware revelations on being alone, flawed, or human. The most memorable lines, I think, come from the latter, and they are placed to be shown off. Frequent use of group vocals add to the highlights, a vital layer in the expanse. But I'm not really listening to this band for its words, so much as I am seeing where they fit, how they fit, inside this greater interchange of sounds. 

For all their intensity, these songs are only so aggressive, they are too melodic to be thrashy. Timing is constantly played with, creating dynamic moments. Songs that begin in the world of echo-y, measured melody then pause for a string solo, and pound out a sped-up, cymbal-colored chorus before building a long, slow bridge to the end. In many ways,these are songs atypical in structure, and I think that is what makes them so good for deep, lost listening. They meander, in a way perfectly paired with ponderous, sad thoughts of being a wreck and being alone. 

I can see why this band is often polarizing, I can see why people wouldn't "get it," and I could see why one wouldn't want to subject their ears to something that is at times disorganized and strange on its way to finding moments of captured, heightened beauty. But what a journey that is to take.

"No, we aren't ghosts.
Even ghosts have a home to haunt.
No, we aren't ghosts.
We open doors and we shed our skin.
No, we aren’t ghosts.
Open your windows and let us in." 
~I Will Be Ok. Everything.

The World Is a Beautiful Place and I Am No Longer Afraid to Die, Are Here To Help You (Split w//Deer Leap)

7/27/14

"And I'm so sad
Like a good book, I can't put this
Day back
A sorta fairytale with you."


Today I had the brilliant stroke of Pandora-induced luck to discover the demo version of "A Sorta Fairytale." I think I've listened to this song three quarters of the mornings in the past month, the version from "Scarlet's Walk,"  which is a stunning and moving tale of soulmates gone awry. It's among my favorite tracks from 2000s-era Tori. But this version, with the solo piano, and the first draft of the lyrics, is much more intimate. And what are soulmates, if not that?

So, today, I heard this, and I danced in a parking lot. I waltzed and balanced with my headphones in my sandals, because it was empty of others and I was wandering and I felt like I was hearing something just for me just when I needed it. Especially with the tone of her voice on a line brand new to me - "this thing we created" - this, which encapsulated all the fretting and pain of the original verse, plus some, and so I broke into a thousand pieces and danced about it, because I was validated that yes, I knew what this tune was all about.

I would write more what I think this song is about, but instead I'll use this quote from the writer herself, included in "Scarlet's Stories:"

"I think that there is a place where she [Scarlet] realizes that people come in and out of your life. Sometimes for a day, sometimes for longer. And all of them make you what you are. You can't separate these people out of you. They form who you are. Even the ones that you kind of say well... you know, I don't know if I wanna be formed by them anymore. (laughs) But you are in some way. You are. That's why, maybe, you don't have to look at them so harshly because they have affected you. At the end, though, you know... it's us as individuals with our... mm... with our love for the land. For something intangible, that when soulmates come and go, you're never alone even when you're standing just you in your shoes, because you carry them with you."

"On my way up north
Up on the Ventura
I pulled back the hood
and I was talking to you
and i knew then it would be
a life-long thing, but I didn't
know that it could
break so well and clean

and I'm so sad
like a good book
I can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale with you

Said that day up on the 101
you would be someone
you tried to downplay it
but i knew we had come
face to face with this thing we created

and I'm so sad
like a good book
I can't but this day back
a sorta fairytale with you
I could pick back up whenever I feel...

 And I was riding by
riding along side for a while
til you lost me and i was
riding along side til you lost me
til you lost me in the rearview
til you lost me, i said

Way up north, i took my day
all and all, was a pretty nice day
and i put the hood right back where
you could taste heaven perfectly.
feel out the summer breeze
didn't know when we'd back and i
i don't, i didn't think we'd end up like,
like this."
~A Sorta Fairytale
Tori Amos, A Piano: The Collection