Listening The Frames is such a gift for your ears. Knowing they've been around since the mid-90s, their catalog has a nostalgic quality, but the songs themselves feel timeless in structure and supreme melody. They're often incredibly sad and heartbroken, but nonetheless alive, with a hunger for feeling, even in desperation.
I came across this performance in a YouTube spree this evening, and the refrain has slipped from my lips ever since. It's the kind of song that makes me want to pick up a guitar and play something simple, find a full band to chime in and send the message through. Not only is this a beautiful song, and an impressive performance with one hell of a referential interlude and mash-up ending, but Glen Hansard's opening monologue is too charming for words. Tough to beat those final harmonies too, from a song I never heard til now, the kind that are soft, subtle and haunting just before the applause cuts in and the lights come up. Those moments on stage, the kind that are so full of fleeting magic, are what can make a 16-year-old song sound fresh and familiar, wonderful and warm.
"Star, star, teach me how to shine, shine Teach me so I know what's going on in your mind 'Cause I don't understand these people Saying the hill's too steep, well They talk and talk forever But they just never climb
Falling down into situations Bringing out the best in you You're flat on your back again And star, your every word I'm heeding Can you help me to see? I'm lost in the marsh
Star, star, teach me how to shine, shine Teach me so I know what's going on in your mind 'Cause I don't understand these people Saying the world is sleeping They toss and turn forever But no rest will they find
Star, teach me how to shine
Star, star, teach me how to shine, shine Teach me so I know what's going on in your mind."
"Twice a week I pass by the church that held your funeral And the pastor's words come pouring down like rain How he called you a sinner and said now you walk with Jesus So the drugs that took your life aren't gonna cause you any pain I don't think he even knew your name And I refuse to kneel and pray I won't remember you that way
I lit you a candle in every cathedral across Europe And I hope you know you're still my patron saint I tried to forgive, but I can't forget the cigar in his fist I know that they were heartsick, but I need someone to blame And I know how they blamed me I know what you'd say You'd tell me it was your fault I should put all my arrows away.
I'm sure there ain't a heaven
But that don't mean I don't like to picture you there
I'll bet you're bumming cigarettes off saints And I'm sure you're still singing
But I'll bet that you're still just a bit out of key
That crooked smile pushing words across your teeth
Cause you were heat lightning
Yeah, you were a storm that never rolled in You were the northern lights in a southern town,
A constant fleeting thing.
I'll bury your memories in the garden
And watch them grow with the flowers in spring
I'll keep you with me."
August is hands-down the strangest time of year. The slow, gorgeous fade of summer begins, fall creeps in around the edges, and every few years or so, my life turns upside down. Given that cycle has continued here in 2015, with the most significant sentimental loss I've ever faced, I'm ready to move forward, and with that comes the corresponding soundtrack. I am undeniably, unimaginably excited for the new record from The Wonder Years this fall and the subsequent tour - so much so that writing down sentences about it makes my finger tingle and I smile to myself. Some things don't change, and that's the way I feel about this band.
With just two songs out, I can already tell "No Closer to Heaven" is going to be an epic, dramatic album - the kind that "The Greatest Generation" was and continues to be. I see l some of my friends and acquaintances roll their eyes when I tell them I'm still - yes, still - really into pop punk and emo music. They're especially shocked if they've only been familiar with my folk and indie obsessions. But I can't get over the heightened aggression and flair for dramatic. I can't stop wanting my heart torn out I cannot stop being impressed by Dan Campbell cutting right to the quick of it, and saying it like it is.
I've been binging on "Cigarettes and Saints" today, and I've decided this song really crushes it. There's some kind of triumph behind that first guitar line, crystal-clear and resonant as it fades, only to come back in a patient pattern before the song erupts. The structure overall is drawn out, but purposefully so, like a funeral march, and the second half of the song begins with an anxious tone before finding its footing. "My whole generation got lost in the margin," Campbell sing-screams in the climax, and I can't help but think how me as well as the 17-year-olds playing this probably feel that way, too. The way he says "I know they blamed me," breaks my heart. What kills me most about this song is the overloading of religious imagery without reverence. The candles he lights feel significant, but futile, the pastor's words are empty and fleeting. And yet our narrator forges ahead, he vows to fight the forces that trigger these sad events, swirling in shame and regret and sadness all the awhile. What a feeling. What a story. I can't wait for more.
"These wolves in their suits and ties
Saying, "Kid, you can trust me"
Charming southern drawl, sunken eyes
Buying good will in hotel lobbies Buy fistfuls of pills to make sure you don't hurt no more
You don't gotta feel anything
Got their fangs in our veins
Got their voice in our head
Got our arms in their grips No, we can't shake free This goddamn machine, hungry and heartless
My whole generation got lost in the margin We put our faith in you and you turned a profit
Now we're drowning here under the waves
(We're no saviors if we can't save our brothers)
Drowning out under the waves (We're no saviors if we can't save our brothers)
Drowning out, drowning out...
You can't have my friends,
You can't have my brothers.
You can't have my friends,
You can't have my brothers.
You can't have my friends,
You can't have my brothers. You can't have me
No, you can't have me."
~Cigarettes and Saints
The Wonder Years, No Closer To Heaven
The new Citizen full-length is the best damn rock music I've heard in some time. Love the grooves, the heavy bass, the tendency to shout versus scream with just enough of the latter to feel appropriately hardcore. Their debut two years back made quite the splash, but I only really got into the single, "The Summer," which is a fierce and forceful kissoff:
"I watched you burn and I felt it. You’re spitting words like you’re someone else. And I watched you run, I was screaming and following you down. It seems I’m stuck in the promise you made, I’m counting out.
I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know. If I could catch you once, I’d see you right through.
You said you’d stay, and you promised, I finally see you out. Why’d you wait for the summer to chew and spit me out? I sit awake and wait impatiently. The same mistakes are waiting to be made
I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know. If I could just write you off, I’d see you right through."
~The Summer
Citizen, Youth
Citizen's second effort- "Everybody Is Going to Heaven" - certainly feels darker and more mature, but with the same channeled rage. The first slowdown on track four, "Heaviside," showcases their melodic tendencies well, then it's back to brutal, dark chords and distortion for days.Swapping vocal styles works for this band in so many ways - there's Manchester-esque emo flavor before screamed choruses, and the variety adds depth to a sound that's an approachable kind of heavy. I have listened to this record three times today, and the break from maudlin (bless them) songwriters is welcome. This is a powerful collection of ten songs, sure to played excellent live.
"I've placed the boards across your windows I've nailed your hands so you can kiss the floor A blanket suffocates the things you know Numb yourself, like you did before."
~Numb Yourself
Citizen, Everybody is Going to Heaven
I love their inclination to hold back - not every song throws down in a bust though they're more than capable of pulling it off. I listen for that patience, and for when it breaks. I listen for the confident aggression that feels a little more grown than a lot of other bands I seek out when looking for something with bite, and yet remains interesting musically; I listen for those off-center melodies, something that sounds so nu metal and energizing and full. These songs are vivid and harsh, not quite violent but almost there. They're just enough to power up and power through a messy, busy day with a messy, busy mind.
"I am coming clean with myself My darling, my darling Now that I've shed my skin, you can tell I'm brighter than ever The flood has washed my bitter design Polished in every way I am coming clean into love I'll die if you let me I am coming clean with myself My darling, my darling Now that I've seen the world through your eyes, I'm brighter than ever before Bandaging all of me
Selfish me
So bittersweet A suspicious love for the sake of us Suit yourself fittingly My arms are opened up Suit yourself fittingly The haze surrounds only us"
"It's the wrong dream, with the wrong man, With a cold gun, in your own hand. Get it right this time, get it off your mind. Let the summer rain bring you rest and shame and love."
~Rest. Shame, Love
Augustana, Can't Love, Can't Hurt
The random algorithms of Pandora couldn't know this appears to be one of the rainiest summers on record. It couldn't know that the first time I heard this song in years arrived on a lonely, rainy evening, and would linger in my ears through a stretch of heat-drenched dry days.
Augustana is one of those bands I will sort of always haphazardly defend. An early 2000s pop rock band that made a splash with a few overly played singles doesn't necessarily merit favorite status, but I've always thought their full-lengths were solid listens. Their songs are knee-deep in sentiment, the guitar lines are simple and clear, and there's a twinge of middle-of-nowhere folk that goes down easy. Taking the time to listen to "Can't Love, Can't Hurt" and mellow out to its laid-back rock, I feel like I am rediscovering a secret, like I am finding the box under my bed I left there years ago. Many of their songs on this record are beautiful and memorable. This one in particular is flooded with patience, even in its sad defeat. All thanks to a nicely curated Internet radio playlist that randomly reminded me of what I wanted to hear.
"They caught me as I placed her down in New York City streets. Love roared as they pulled me back and tears fell from her cheeks and she said, 'When you let go, where will I be?' and I broke down and said 'Love is shackles, you’ll be free.'"
~The Path
Head North, Bloodlines
So into the latest Head North record, and their corresponding EPs. What a great band, who also hail from upstate New York. Their sound is that deep and resonant pop punk that is kind of all the rage, but their songs all have a really intimate and cutthroat quality, not shying away from the power of a good build-up and shouted words. Reminds me of Manchester Orchestra in that sense, but a little less dark and a little more bright. They rely heavily on melody without ignoring riff and fill potential, allowing some of the most bold and rage-fueled lines to take centerstage. I am glad to remember them on this beautiful summer morning; it's the perfect soundtrack for tossing my hair up, grabbing some coffee and getting on with it.
