Friday, August 7, 2009

#11

The best songs are played while driving.

"Commemorative T-Shirt" - Oceansize



I have a certain mix I play when I want only music that I have deemed enjoyable. I know, it's cheating, but I don't feel bad so it doesn't count. This playlist compiled with the intent on never having to skip through the bullshit to get to what I want to hear. And now, after not visiting this playlist for several months, I have come back to it only to find that the ">>|" button takes over the scene. It calls my hand to it and inevitably takes control. Gems are passed over for the sake of catering to my mood, which has been rather somber as of late, but that's another story all together. Just because I may punching the losing card instead of the winning one doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty when I see it or hear it. It doesn't cut me off. I won't let it. My sword is phrase. My victory will be the final period at the end of this issue.

Welcome back to 5 Songs In A Row.

My playlist, aptly titled "On The Road" since I only listen to it while I'm driving, contains the songs from the bands that matter most. Matter most to me, that is. In the past it never failed, but as I was saying, tonight when I put it on nothing seemed to jive. That is until Oceansize was played; A rock band from the UK with a near obvious tell that they really wish they were Radiohead. And yet Oceansize blends just enough grit into the mix to be able to stay outside the niche of modern pop and shake the comparisons with a posture not unlike those of American indie rock/metal bands just doing what everyone else is- trying to make a name for themselves.

Frames
, their third attempt at swallowing the masses with their gaping sound, doesn't stray much from the head-banging riffs of their debut Effloresce or the subtle repose of Everyone Into Position, their sophomore album. Those traits and the formula used to tie them together teeter on the edge of Frames being lackluster and only part of the solution to the same equation they have been trying to solve since their inception. That's not to say that everything they do is shit and shouldn't be heard. For instance, this song. Track one on Frames. It begins with a drawn out instrumental jam that rivals some Tool songs and drops into what sounds like a bit of a diatribe from singer Mike Vennart touting his ability to be above some sorry excuse for a reconciliation. Yet the title suggests some lingering resentment. The classic "I survived this part of my life and all I got was this lousy t-shirt" kind of attitude. Yeah, we've all been there.

The reason I let this song continue to play was because how it made me not want to feel the same things I had always felt when I listened to it in the past; like I was diluting myself into some imaginary concept of being something I'm not. A video of me playing music would consistantly play on in my mind's eye. Something that sounds nice on paper, but probably would never come to pass. It gave me power to accept what I truly need to focus on and clear away the black storm clouds that seep in and cover the sun. The clouds are just fantasies, of course. I still had four more tracks to get through, and the clouds still had to drop some kind of precipitation to let me know they were there. Don't worry, I carry an umbrella.

"Melt Your Heart" - Jenny Lewis and The Watson Twins



Jenny Lewis was born with the purpose of writing the kinds of songs that somehow form the boot that kicks me in the balls. Everything about her from her scarlet bangs to her sweet and innocent charm is a steel toe to a sensitive part of my anatomy. That's not to say I don't take pleasure in the moment though. I am, admittedly, a bit of a masochist. The pain I endure in life serves as a means to an end. It is the mechanism I use to be able to sit down and write. Situations arise and I choose a path that will certainly lead me down a road with bumps, potholes, and the eventual blocked-off cliff drop of doom which I speed through at 100 miles per hour to end it all in a fiery crash of metal and blood. I brake for no one, but slowing down to enjoy the scenery along the way once in a while is nice too.

"Melt Your Heart" has to be one of the best worst songs to listen to when you're trying to get over someone. As much as I want to skip it, I want to listen to it that much more. I let it play even though it does a damn good job of killing me and the uplifting mood left over from Oceansize. It's a bittersweet moment, but it's safe to say that as time goes on in my life there will be more sweet and less bitter.

But above all of the nonsense, I love how tender it is. Like some kind of note slipped into your pocket when you weren't looking. You open it up and it's gentle words letting you know that nothing is ever perfect, and to stop trying to make it perfect. Let things be as they are. It'll mean more. It's not so much the words as it's how they are sung, though. Lewis' butter over warm toast voice continues to give the public what it craves: tranquility. There's not a lot to be angry about in the world during a Jenny Lewis song and adding the Southern charm of The Watson Twins makes it even more memorable.

"Good Fortune" - PJ Harvey



I was thankfully given a short reprieve from the melancholia of "Melt Your Heart" courtesy of PJ Harvey and one the (very) few uplifting & positive songs she has written in her career; a single from (in my opinion) her best album, Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea. "Good Fortune" is the kind of song you add to that mix you want to make your significant other after those first few glowing months of "love will conquer all" attitude and right before you start getting on each other's nerves. I've only put it on a mix for one person so far. It also makes for a good road jam, which is why it is on this particular playlist in the first place.

Hearing the song took me back to the video. It shows Ms. Harvey coming out of a building with sunglasses on like she was expecting it to be light out. My guess is she was with a suitor and lost track of time. A lot of time. Then, waving her arms and thrashing about like some kind of love-sick seizure victim, she prances down city streets singing to the camera as if she's leaving a message to the lucky man (or woman) she was with before the film started rolling. She's upbeat, excited, and most of all, happy with what is going on in her life in the typical PJ Harvey "looks sexy while doing it" fashion. Yes, I'm stating the obvious here, but sometimes the answer to something is just that simple. Don't ever try to overanalyze a situation. It sucks the meaning right out of it.

So the next time you feel yourself growing in any positive way play this song. Even if you're not, play it anyway. It helps. Music is there to aid in that. It's medicine. An artist takes his or her own experiences from the shelf, mixes them together into a tonic, hands you the glass and says "Here, drink this. It'll help you feel better."

And like PJ, I can feel my bad fortune slipping away, too.



"Nothing & Nowhere" - Emily Haines & The Soft Skeleton



Emily Haines' solo work reminds me of being in some kind of back alley music club that's heavy on cigarette smoke and cheap wine and low on self-respect and moral regard toward others. It's the soundtrack to so many sleepless nights. Kind of like this one. Details aren't needed, so I'll just let the songs speak for themselves. I guess they already are considering we're already on track 4, right?

The lead lyricist of the band Metric took a step away from her usual angst ridden song structure and went with a softer approach to the way she expresses the issues that vex her. It reflects on the apparent depression she was suffering at the time which almost crippled her into a state of never wanting to write music ever again. Understandable. It's difficult to want to pick up that pen, brush, or instrument again after a harrowing experience that leaves you in such a state of mind that you feel vulnerable to any little thing that took a piece of you. Emily says, "Numb is the new high," and at times being numb is the only thing that saves us from completely bottoming out. But it's only a temporary fix. A pill that may cure the symptom, but not the disease. We eventually have to confront the problem. Only then can we move on.

Everything is in a constant state of evolution, including music. Occurrences in our own lives and the lives of others dictate what we want to listen to and what a musician wants to write about. In Haines' case, it was all about a sadness she couldn't escape from. She was lost, scared, and unable to find herself through all the black; something I can empathize with.


"Landslide" - Fleetwood Mac



As I pulled into my driveway this song came on to mark the end of the night. Many artists have covered it, but as with most reproductions, their versions have paled in comparison to the original. No one, not Tori Amos, The Dixie Chicks, and certainly not Billy Corgan can even come close to candor of Stevie Nicks. It was written during the time of her and Buckingham's rocky relationship. Ha ha, get it? Landslide? Rocky? Nevermind. Speaking of rocky, Nicks wrote this while visiting Colorado, looking at the Rocky Mountains, and imagining the avalanche of everything that had piled on top of her and Buckingham.

I can relate. Life has been beginning to feel like an in-box at work that's slowing building with more and more TPS reports. It's overwhelming to the point of not knowing where to begin to get it all sorted out. However, to begin a journey you must take a step forward and never consider taking a step back when negativity lurks around the bend.

We're all afraid of change, but as usual, it's the one thing that's constant. I spoke earlier of evolution; how we are all experiencing it together, yet it feels like we've become distant from one another while it happens. We grow up and move away, sometimes for good. What makes it special is the people we surround ourself with. They aid in our growth whether we believe it or not. Some are more spiritual and consider God to be their only route towards enlightenment. But I believe that it not only comes from God, but everyone we meet in life. Everyone is there to help dig ourselves out of the mess that we, or others, might have created. How do you think Fleetwood Mac are still playing as a band today? It certainly wasn't because of them turning their back from one another. Could be the money, though.