6/9/15

"And you're, you're the kind to hide your eyes from the sun
And in your world the strong survive
But won't you lay your body down
Yes and now, now's the time to wrap your ears around the sound
Of your train coming round
You'll have to lay everything down."
~Arms Like Boulders
The War on Drugs, Wagonwheel Blues

Tonight I get to see one of my favorite bands of 2014, The War on Drugs, perform here in town. I'm crossing my fingers for a setlist full of "Lost in the Dream." I will give myself a present if I don't break down in tears during "In Reverse." Or maybe, if I do, that will be a present of its own kind.

I am taking this day as an opportunity to revisit some of their older tracks, which carry much of the same aesthetic with less of the study. The story of how hard Adam Granduciel worked on this album for a year in and out of Philadelphia studios became intertwined with its own success, told and retold in celebratory reviews. Rightfully so, I'd say, as I like it when critics recognize and reaffirm the work that goes into creating something worthwhile. This album is full of shadows and light, woven together with seemingly off the cuff lyrical content, from daylight observations to silent musings alone in the dark. These are not words, or melodies, that try too hard. Patience is the key to this album's success-- it is also the biggest difference from past releases, and it is in this self-actualization and realization Granduciel found commercial success. A dream, indeed. 

It's easy to write, when you know how to. Writing well is another matter entirely. That takes a different kind of concentration and focus, one that's hyped up and hurried by intensity and insanity. I'm hoping to see some of that on display tonight. I need to see some of that on display tonight. I want that reminder of how working hard is worth it every time, trusting yourself is not a risk but a challenge, and while giving up is for losers, getting lost isn't losing at all. 

"And I don't mind you disappearing
When I know you can be found
When you livin' on the dark side of the street, damn?
We just livin' in the moment, making our past, losin' our grasp through the grand parade."
~In Reverse
The war on Drugs, Lost in the Dream

6/5/15

 
"So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh babe, I hate to go."
~Leaving on a Jet Plane
Eisley/John Denver

Beautiful song, beautiful interpretation. On replay now. Can't believe this is the first time I've heard it with a string section behind it. Let me reiterate how stunning I think Sherri DuPree Bemis is as a singer and human being. And, knowing the life she lives as a musician who is also married to one, I can only imagine the sentiment of goodbye and return with the one you love as so eloquently displayed in this song have a meaning near and dear to her heart. While there are not shortage of covers of this track, I am very glad to hear this one from this vantage point. Some songs, some sentiments, do not get old or tired no matter how many times you encounter them. Some just floor you every time.

6/4/15

"Chancing, glancing, so enough mood for romancing
So love dawn can't you see
That you only gotta dance with me."
~Lowdown
My Morning Jacket, At Dawn 

Because friends are cool and summer tours are better, I get to see My Morning Jacket perform in a few hours. What an epic band they truly are, maintaining such a strong presence and popularity despite the labels they've encountered as a jam band for a decade and a half. While I am hardly heading into this concert as a superfan, I'm familiar enough with their aesthetic and discography to know my ears are in store for some fluid guitars, loud swells, classic-rock rhythms and the powerful high range and almost-twang of Jim James.

It's a fortunate coincidence I've been in classic rock and alt-country mode all week. My mind is on forests and trees and lakes and grasses and skies instead of the pavement and highways and sky-high structures around me daily. Summer calls for open-air getaways and I've yet to be able to escape. If I cannot be there myself, it is at least a comfort to run away to music that can make me feel just as pensive or reflective or carefree, or otherwise altogether chill. So many bands do it well but My Morning Jacket is one of the leaders of this tribe, with refreshing American rock that does not bother with the trends of the day, and instead relies on satisfying progressions and melodies, a healthy dose of harmonies and a dash of blues-rock soul. To last this long, in this era, requires timeless chops. How else could they make it 15 years?  This is not a band to be sad to, though they can be back, this is not a band to flaunt to, though I anticipate hispter fashion galore as I roll up in my work clothes.

Should be a treat - and an unexpected one at that. Obviously I hope they play "Bermuda Highway." That line about dreams and the crack of the bed and the wall is an unforgettable metaphor. But their latest LP, "The Watefall," is lush-lush-lush and a bit wordier than their older material, which I totally dig. Regardless of whether I am familiar with the songs or not, I'm looking forward to jaw-dropping guitar playing, and getting lost-lost-lost.



"There is only so many ways that one can
Look at a given situation
And I wish you all the love in this world and beyond."
~Get the Point
My Morning Jacket, Waterfall 

5/27/15

"Jesus Christ. I'm 26.
All the people I graduated with,
All have kids,
All have wives,
All have people who care if they come home at night.

Well, Jesus Christ, did I fuck up?"
~Passing Through a Screen Door
The Wonder Years, The Greatest Generation


I am compelled to post this tonight as it will only remain true to my life for the next several hours -- and because it is a pop punk bridge for the modern age that reflects ultimately what I find many in my generation often grappling with.

I know it seems like all we care about is what's happening on our phones but the timeless mortal longings for companionship and love and meaning in our lives - surprisingly!!! - remain. In my conversations this past year, with friends or acquaintances or strangers of a similar age, I've heard plenty of takeaways on what it means to be alone, what it means to be coupled up, or somewhere in between. Some seem dead-set on running as far as they can from commitment of any sort, thinking such trappings spell doom for their individualized futures; others seek it like water in a drought, gasping and grasping for something to hold onto other than themselves that will provide vitality. Still others I meet are in some sort of medium ground, not alone and not lost though conventionally behind the times and, through their personal choices, redefining them. Some others just don't seem to care where they fit. They just seem happy.

I am one of those who is not alone, though I live that way. I am one of those who pokes and prods and rips up roots almost fast as I can grow them, though I have a few places I can call home enough to find someone to laugh with and buy me a drink. I often feel as though I have fucked up, though I know in my heart of hearts and deepest of consciousness that I have not.

To me this song spells out fervent desire for change, without yet knowing which kind to make. It starts from the feeling that the present in all its normalcy is not adequate, when the room to run is so far and wide and somewhere out there is something more. That feeling, the opposite of sought-after stability, is glorious in its own way, and glamorized thoroughly, but it presents challenges and fears in the way traditional settling down might in others. What if nowhere feels like home? What if there's no one to look over at, and smile to know all you've shared? What if, to be running and constantly seeking, means you lose everything that is worthwhile after all? Answering these questions sometimes only brings a stronger desire for sameness, for stillness, for closeness that may not be found outside in the world but behind your bedroom door. And then the cycle begins again...

With this song, with this album, Dan Campbell and The Wonder Years presented a story of the times that I hope will preserve the emotional trials and struggles felt by many in the here and now. It helps that it is incredibly fluid, aggressive and devastating rock music, that makes your neck arch and fingers drum and throat ache to shout. I shouted these words 10 rows deep last August, screaming as loud as I ever would packed among hundreds of strangers younger than me, or older than me, or cooler than me, or more scene than me, and for that day, for that set, I did not feel fucked up. I did not feel like I'd missed out. I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

5/26/15

Yesterday, on an impromptu drive through southern Pennsylvania, I caught a three-song Dawes set the radio. One of these was "If I Wanted Someone," which is my favorite track on 2011's "Nothing is Wrong." But the first was "Things Happen," one of their newest singles that is very new to me, and sports a chorus that shattered like a china plate over my head.

"In a different time, on a different floor
I might mourn the loss of who I'm not anymore.
So I'm driving up to Oakland for a good look back,
And a few revisions to my plan of attack.
Let's make a list of all the things the world has put you through,
Let's raise a glass to all the people you're not speaking to
I don't know what else you wanted me to say to you
Things happen, that's all they ever do."
~Things Happen
Dawes, All Your Favorite Bands


I love the way they blend blues-folk feel with rock sensibilities, an Americana blend through and through. This track felt a little more classic than those on "Nothing is Wrong," at least vocally, as if they went back to draw more inspiration from 70s rootsy rock than the mellow-hipster contemporaries they found themselves on the radio among in recent years. I love the guitar line too, something very spacey-hippie about it. Whoever mixed this deserves some serious credit, because it sounds straight from the stage. Given I never got into Dawes' 2013 release I'm not sure what kind of evolution I missed, but if it wound up with the kind of raw layers and harmonies produced at the end of "Things Happen," then I'd say they are heading in the right direction. The album is now streaming in pre-release form on NPR, and I think I will listen for more - more ringing guitars, more honest-to-goodness honest folk, more feelings from the 10,000-foot perspective.