Some Songs Considered

“The First Snow of the Year” – Jason Anderson 
(Words/music: Jason Anderson, available on Tonight, States Rights 2007) 

Having a new crush can feel like one of those amusement park rides that changes direction frequently.  Every tiny sign of affection causes unparalleled glee, and every mixed message feels like an impossible labyrinth to solve.  In both cases, this new interest starts monopolizing every stray thought and boxing out some of the necessary ones. The final verse in this song phrases it in a way I love:

My buddy calls it Tetris brain 
when you play that game all day 
and at night when you’re going to sleep, 
you close your eyes and see the pieces moving. 

On top of the “Be My Baby” drumbeat, Anderson likens the image of falling blocks to the “phantom cellphone vibration” one experiences when they want the phone to ring.  It’s a beautiful metaphor, right down to the way one might try to “fit all the pieces together” to turn a romantic interest into something more concrete.  Anderson sets the tone throughout the song with warm organ tangled with playful piano.  Lyrically, he keys in on mittened hand holding (coupled with a Joni Mitchell allusions) and spending snowy nights with loved ones.  It’s only in this final verse where he shifts his focus from setting to character; in this instance, it’s the one who has his leg tingling who warms his soul more than a couch, fireplace, or mitten could.  

(As for the snow around here, I’m decidedly less romantic.  It can go away as soon as possible.)

More on Jason Anderson: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“15 Step” – Radiohead
(Words/music: Radiohead, available on In Rainbows, ATO 2008)

If you downloaded In Rainbows that morning in October 2007, unzipped the files, and hit play on the new Radiohead that seemingly dropped out of the sky, “15 Step” greeted you.  The programmed drums, clipped of their crispness, blip and snap in an unconventional and disorienting beat.  Programmed and live drums weave together in an unconventional and somewhat disorienting beat, and Thom Yorke’s entrance follows this lead.  “How come I end up where I started” sounds like a man, literally or metaphorically, lost.  The song occasionally dips into these pockets or confusion, but never as unsettling as the opening twenty seconds.  Gradually, the song finds its footing: live drums enter and give more stability, and by the time the rest of the band joins in, the misdirection becomes a gentle (yet eerie) floating feeling. 

Appropriately, given the narrator’s confusion at the opening, the track stabilizes right as the narrator shifts from first person to second person.  “You reel me out and then you cut the string,” is the last line of the opening verse, and by the time the narrator feels stable within this lopsided rhythm, his outward turn becomes accusatory.  “You used to be alright – what happened?” he says, and now the track becomes disorienting for the listener.  This quick shift replaces the uneasiness of the opening seconds, trading rhythmic uncertainty for emotional turmoil.  Of course, this isn’t Yorke directly accosting the listener, but it still reveals a quick shift from lost and confused to a focused anger.  Generally, the pieces fall into place for the audience (or in this case, the listener).  However, here it’s the narrator who puts everything together before the audience, making the audience squirm for a minute while reconstructing the story. 

Some way to start an album, eh?

More on Radiohead: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Rappaport’s Testament: I Never Gave Up” – Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
(Words/music: Chumbawamba, available on Mo’ Living EP / Living with the Living Bonus Disc, Touch and Go 2007) 

Near the end of a blistering set this past Friday night, Ted Leo took a few minutes to speak candidly to the audience.  The dialogue with the crowd wasn’t strange, as Leo does this several times every night.  However, the tone deviated from the kind of witty banter normally spun off the stage.  Instead, Leo thanked his supporting act Screaming Females (who are a must see on their own) and then apologized to them.  Evidently, on an otherwise troubled tour cut short by van failure, the Screaming Females faced boycotts at certain shows for their association with “sellouts” like Ted Leo.  This baffled the crowd Friday night, and seemed to get under Leo’s skin too, as he calmly but forcefully recounted the band’s repeated efforts to keep their shows affordable and accessible.  Furthermore, even when playing larger gigs in support of bigger bands, he uses his website and Twitter page to let fans know what to expect (specifically, not to pay $45 for a 30 minute Ted Leo / Pharmacists set).  This also doesn’t mention the responses to e-mails, willingness to talk to every single person waiting around after a show (me on several occasions), and show up with guitar in tow for charitable causes.

I present all of this to offer a slightly different take tonight.  I could (and have, believe me) go on about the merits of Leo as a songwriter and performer, but his convictions also factor in as well.  While I might not share all of his causes, I always admire his resolve and his passion; in a world of complainers, Leo acts.  When he dedicated the final song of the set, a cover on Chumbawamba’s concentration camp prisoner-quoting “I Never Gave Up,” to the Screaming Females, it felt like a genuine act of respect for a (relatively) young band that endured too much crap in order to play music for people.  It’s also hard not to read into the song’s closing proclamation as a sort of mantra for Leo’s ethics too – someone who  persevered through his own struggles along the way.  Even though it’s possible to appreciate art created by less than ideal individuals, I find my appreciation for the art deepens when I genuinely appreciate the artist as well.  With Leo, the list is almost as long as the list of things I appreciate in his music.  Personally, it’s also refreshing to have heroes at the age of 27, with Ted Leo certainly among them.

More on Ted Leo and the Pharmacists: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Fake Empire” – the National
(Words/music: The National, available on Boxer, Beggars Banquet 2007) 

For the past couple of years, the National brought along a horn section while they toured.  In a recent interview with Pitchfork, Aaron Dessner called the choice to bring these extra instrumentalists on the road as one necessary to recreate some of the songs from Boxer.  “We don’t have them because we want to sound bigger or grander,” Dessner said in the interview, “it’s just the texture of those instruments.”  This statement stuck out largely because it hits on two truths in the band’s music.  First, The National aren’t about gimmicks; even with a large number of instruments on their two most recent records, the tracks rarely feel excessive or decadent.  Secondly, this band approaches their songs as compositions, taking great effort not just in the writing of their songs, but in the arrangement and continued performance of these works.  Thus, the horn players become necessary parts of many of these songs, as opposed to something that a slightly maddening (and hopefully tongue-in-cheek) Vulture post might suggest to “liven” up the band. 

As those in attendance this past Wednesday night at Radio City Music Hall know (and from looking down from the second balcony, a lot of people were there), The National needs little help creating excitement.  Their lineup, in addition to the horn players, featured a small string section and help from Annie Clark (a.k.a. St. Vincent) and Sufjan Stevens on a couple songs.  Still, none of these additions were choices of excess that playing a room like Radio City might warrant.  Instead, each of these additions, including their famous friends, played supporting roles.  Even Clark and Stevens contributed texture rather than star-power.  The result, particularly on the swelling, set-closing “Fake Empire,” not only validated the choice of room (as the sound resonated beautifully, especially at the back of the room where we sat), but also the band’s reputation as a live presence.  Even before Matt Berninger navigated the fringe of the room and dragged a hundred feet of microphone cord into the first balcony for the electric “Mr. November” in the encore, the richness of the songs captivated the crowd throughout.  Even if Berninger’s repeated trips into the audience get cited as the most electric moments in the show, then the supporting players deserve some of the credit for their exceptional textural contributions. 

More on The National: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Deep Blue Sea (Daniel Rossen home recording)” – Grizzly Bear
(Traditional Song, Arrangement: Daniel Rossen, available on Friend EP, Warp 2007) 

With no offense intended toward Ed Droste, Daniel Rossen’s songs tend to stick with me with more frequency.   He sings in a calm way without sacrificing a rich tone, and his voice evokes the same qualities as Nick Drake at times.  Even when given the full-on Grizzly Bear wall-‘o-sound, they have a more immediate intimacy than some of the band’s other compositions.  Where other songs lean on the harmonies for their effectiveness, Rossen’s songs sound built up starting with just voice and guitar. 

So naturally, I’m not surprised at how much I love “Deep Blue Sea,” particularly Rossen’s demo recording of the song.  The full band version appeared on the Dark Was the Night compilation last year with a few embellishments familiar to those who own Veckatimest.  Rossen’s solo recording keeps the focus on his hushed and nimble fingerpicking and his voice.  The simplicity works wonders, particularly with this folk song’s sweet melody.  Even when Rossen embellishes the recording (with double-tracked harmonies, unsurprisingly), his voice remains the focus with the ghostly harmonies playing a supporting role.  Even though their more ambitious sonic collages might be more impressive, the simple melody and harmony in this song feels just as beautiful.

Also, if you stick through the last minute of silence, there’s a crazy spaghetti western style instrumental featuring Beirut’s Zach Condon.  Don’t blame me if/when it catches you by surprise. 

More on Grizzly Bear: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Hard Sun” – Eddie Vedder
(Words/music: Indio, available on Into the Wild Soundtrack, J Records 2007) 

Perhaps I’m tipped by its inclusion on the Into the Wild soundtrack, but “Hard Sun” sounds large and expansive.  Part of this comes from the percussion, in particular the snare drum.  It’s given the space to resonate, and even this split-second delay gives the illusion of the reverberations of a wide open space.  Aside from the snare, the arrangement has a lot of space in general.  Whether between the acoustic guitar chords or the breaks between Vedder’s phrases, these pauses give the illusion of space and depth in the track.  When the parts are this spaced out, it seems like they occupy more space, making an otherwise sparse song sound huge.

The secret weapon on this track is Sleater-Kinney vocalist Corin Tucker.  Tucker, who played a fair number of shows with Vedder’s band before Sleater-Kinney’s hiatus, wails as well as anyone else.  Even though she’s relegated to a supporting role on the chorus, Tucker’s voice shadows Vedder’s, making the arrangement sound thicker.  Additionally, hearing the usually overpowering Tucker mixed down in the arrangement creates the illusion of distance – her relatively quiet volume almost makes her sound far away.  Again, perhaps I’m picturing the expansive Alaskan wilderness when I hear “Hard Sun,” but I’m always drawn in by (and, honestly, in awe of) its generally grand size. 

More on Eddie Vedder: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse” – Of Montreal
(Words/music: Kevin Barnes, available on Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?, Polyvinyl 2007) 

Putting Kevin Barnes’ personal life aside (that’s for him to discuss, not me), the idea of mood swings fits Barnes’ music as well as any descriptors one might suggest.  Known just as much for outlandish stage sets, Of Montreal splices pop music with other styles and pushes this hybrid just to the breaking point.  As a result, many of these songs bend in weird directions only to snap back into place when the pressure shifts.  Over the course of a given album, Barnes bends his songs in enough directions to disorient almost any listener.
 
So while “Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse” focuses on mood shifts via chemical imbalance, Barnes’ recreates this instability with two distinct musical sections.  Through the verse, synthesizers rumble like faint alarms and creating an anxiety-filled atmosphere.  In these verses, Barnes declares himself in a “crisis” and begs his mood to “shift back to good again.”  The song does exactly what he wishes – the synthesizers become bubbly and the beat picks up.  Even Barnes’ voice gains a bit of lift as he directly addresses the mood-altering culprit.  He admits that his mood lies in his serotonin rather than his actions and that he can’t control these shifts.  At least in his song he can control how to represent these different states of mind. 

More on Of Montreal: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Add Your Light to Mine, Baby” – Lucky Soul
(Words/music: Lucky Soul, available on The Great Unwanted, Ruffa Lane 2007) 

Two parts of “Add Your Light to Mine, Baby” stand out the most.  First, Ali Howard’s voice finds a sweet spot between clean execution and soulful embellishment.  She extends a few syllables and bends a note or two but never to the extent a pop diva might elaborate melodically.  This generally precise execution serves the song well – over-performing the vocal, particularly with all of the motion in the arrangement, would weigh down the song.  Instead, Howard goes just a step beyond a precise performance right off the sheet music, adding just a touch of personality to her performance.

“Add Your Light to Mine, Baby” needs this relatively clean lead vocal to support the horn melody.  The vocals melody is catchy, but the horns provide the song’s hook.  This repetitive phrase (including when the key changes near the end) overpowers Howard’s vocal, and it’s simple phrase only makes it catchier.  If Howard tried to compete for space with the horns (and I have every reason to believe she’s capable vocally), the song would suffer.  Instead, her vocals play a supporting role at times, particularly when she settles in on a longer note.  Rather than make her light the brightest in the band, she’s willing to share space.

More on Lucky Soul: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Rock ‘n Roll Dreams’ll Come True” – Ted Leo
(Words: Tom Sharpling and Jon Wurster, Music: Ted Leo, recorded on WFMU 3/13/2007)

New Jersey free form station WFMU is in its annual fundraiser this week, and tonight is the marathon’s flagship event when Tom Sharpling’s The Best Show on WFMU takes to the airwaves to solicit funds to fuel the station.  I’m out of range (by a couple states) to listen to WFMU in the car, but I’ll occasionally check out the live stream on their website to enjoy their eclectic mix of shows, but generally it’s to hear The Best Show.  Sharpling, a funny man in his own right, brings in hilarious guests on a regular basis (John Hodgman and Patton Oswalt are among regulars), and when the show isn’t deep in inside jokes (or if I follow the joke, at least), it’s an entertaining bit of live radio.

Ted Leo, a friend of Sharpling (Sharpling wrote the liner notes to Leo’s new album The Brutalist Bricks), has appeared on his show several times, including playing odd requests and covers in exchange for donations to WFMU’s operating fund.  His covers range from stellar (“Brass in Pocket” and a WFMU-modified “That’s Entertainment” in 2007, Blondie’s “Union City Blue” in 2008, among others) to ridiculous (Sharpling and Leo performed Streisand & Neil Diamond’s “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers” as a duet, for instance), including “Rock ‘n Roll Dreams’ll Come True,” a Best Show inside joke.  The song comes from a bit between Sharpling and his comedy partner (and Superchunk drummer) Jon Wurster where Wurster called in as an aged rock star with very specific requirements for casting his surefire hit band The Gas Station Dogs.  During this call (which appears on the Sharpling-Wurster disc New Hope for the Ape-Eared and is worth the listen, if only for Wurster’s obsession with details), Wurster’s character Barry Dworkin performs this song, one that only has lyrics and a melody and took nearly two decades to compose.  The Sharpling-Wurster bit explains why these lyrics are inane and, well, awful, but Leo manages to make it into a catchy little tune (and even turns it into a riotous stomp on a Chunklet 7” single he split with Zach Galifinakis).  It’s catchy enough on its own, but even more ridiculous knowing why Leo committed all of these absurd words to memory. 

The Best Show airs tonight between 8-11 PM, so if you’re hanging around with nothing to do, give a listen and see what sort of odd mayhem Sharpling, Wurster, and Ted Leo have in store to try to earn operating capitol for a terrific independent station.

More on Ted Leo: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Walk Hard” – John C. Reilly
(Words/music: Judd Apatow, Marshall Crenshaw, Jake Kasdan, and John C. Reilly, available on Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, Columbia 2007) 

A large part of the appeal to Walk Hard, aside from goofy jokes, comes from the earnestness of the film’s music.  John C. Reilly’s Dewey Cox shifts musical styles with the wind, and the film’s songs captured the different musical styles surprisingly well.  Sure, the lyrics were generally dumb (this is a Judd Apatow film, for what that’s worth), but the performances could pass as artifacts from their respective eras, at least from a distance.

The title track, Dewey Cox’s signature song, best captures the film’s musical successes.  Reilly turns in a solid Johnny Cash impression (even though his vocal tone is stronger than Cash’s) backed by a convincing arrangement mimicking Cash’s early output.  Of course, it helps that Marshal Crenshaw wrote the music, giving the song its seamless transitions and, ultimately, making it more than a series of Cash-related puns.  It’s difficult to take the song seriously while listening to the words, and even without paying attention it wouldn’t’ pass for one of Cash’s original recordings.  Still, from another room, it sounds like a serious and professional recording, and it’s this earnestness that makes the film funny in the first place.  If nothing else, “Walk Hard” works well as a sort of “souvenir” from the movie – a reminder of an afternoon spent giggling at a grown man wearing ridiculous outfits singing ridiculous songs.

More on John C. Reilly: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“All My Friends” – LCD Soundsystem
(Words/music: James Murphy, Pat Mahoney, and Tyler Pope, available on Sound of Silver, DFA 2007)

Officially, Some Songs Considered was born last New Year’s Day, driving west on the Mass Pike on my way from Boston back to Connecticut, as it was during this two hour drive that I worked out the idea for it.  However, in some ways the groundwork for the project started a little more than a year earlier when I connected on a strangely personal level with “All My Friends.”  Sound of Silver came out during a period of time where I felt in limbo and could identify with James Murphy’s meditation on growing old.  The strange thing – and the one that compelled me to write about it in the first place – was that I wasn’t the only one with these musical epiphanies.  Writers Tom Breihan and Hua Hsu wrote two separate pieces detailing their personal experiences with the song.  Breihan’s described an intensely personal experience in the midst of a single recap piece, while Hsu focused on the balance of nostalgia and melancholy in the song as well as a “pleasant shock of recognizing [his] newly 30 year-old self within it.”   In many ways, my goal (often unstated) was to do both of these things – capture the raw personal reaction Breihan shares and the eloquent and potent analysis that Hsu explicates.  Some days, I come closer than others (and other days I lose sight of these twin goals), but they remain, among others, the guiding thoughts dictating these posts.

Of course, it’s only appropriate that Hsu, Breihan, myself, and many others respond in such profound ways to “All My Friends.”  It’s a testament to the song itself – so eloquently described by Hsu in his Slate article that I won’t go too far into it.  Still, nearly two and a half years after first hearing Sound of Silver, the opening piano chords still rope me in and rouse my spirit in the way that few other songs accomplish.  If nothing else, this realization makes me cherish those rare nights with my distant friends even more.  Perhaps someday I’ll outgrow the song the same way I grew into it, but until that day I’ll spin the record, take stock of my life, and think about all my friends near and far.

More on LCD Soundsystem: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Comfy in Nautica” – Panda Bear
(Words/music: Noah Lennox, available on Person Pitch, Paw Tracks 2007)

In the spring of 2008, I went through a month long phase where I would take late afternoon naps listening to Person Pitch.  To the best of my memory, I put on the album and made myself comfortable on my bed, intent on listening to the album to try to figure out the big deal behind it.  Then, somewhere during the first third of the album, I was too comfortable and nodded off.  It’s nothing personal, as I’ve done this with albums that I love, it’s just a byproduct of laying down after a long day at work and having something to focus on that doesn’t require a lot of thought or analysis. 

This process continued because it gave me the opportunity to listen to “Comfy in Nautica” as a way of “winding down” before I’d doze off.  Initially, I found it jarring despite its hazy qualities.  There’s a strong cyclical quality to the song between the music and samples flowing in and out and Lennox’s chant-like vocals.  However, the way that the vocal sample lines up with the downbeat makes it feel like its bludgeoning the listener.  This is the point to the song (and much of Person Pitch), as Lennox strives for a meditative quality, leaving us to find the patterns that emerge in his patchwork.  Alternately, it could be a blank canvas for us to project our own patterns (or meditations, I guess) onto.  Either way, it’s the kind of thing that I enjoy and lets me shut down my brain for a few minutes (I have no clue what Lennox is singing about because I never pay attention to the words).  It probably also gave me weird nap dreams as well.

More on Panda Bear: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Werewolf Bar Mitzvah” – Tracy Jordan
(Words/music: Jeff Richmond, available via NBC.com, 2007)

One of the more charming parts of “Werewolf Bar Mitzvah,” is the dialogue between Tracy Jordan (alter ego of comedian Tracy Morgan) and his producer.  In the world of the sitcom 30 Rock, Tracy Jordan is akin to Martin Lawrence, complete with ubiquitous semi-fame and an IMDB page full of stinkers.  It’s believable that Jordan would make a novelty cash-in record, but the premise of this one – somewhere between a Hebrew rite of passage and Halloween – even baffles the man cashing the paycheck.  Before the third verse, the producer warns Jordan that the song is losing steam and becoming “sweaty,” prompting Jordan to declare that “this whole premise is sweaty!” (Let’s be honest - it’s less than three minutes long and feels like it’s twice that length). Still, he soldiers on through another plot-driven verse and another spin through the chorus before ultimately declaring that it’s no “Dick in a Box.”

Like 30 Rock itself, “Werewold Bar Mitzvah” approaches comedy with the right blend of absurdity and self-awareness.  Jordan’s narrative delves deeper into bizarre details as he tosses aside every horror movie fact and Hebrew vocabulary word he can remember.  It’s the way a novelty song works – the hook is the only substantial part, yet it has to go away for a while before we can welcome it back.  So Jordan starts telling his ridiculous story and we’re generally ignoring it, waiting for the “spooky, scary” line to come back.  Meanwhile, Jordan and producer wink at us the entire way. 

Happy Halloween.  Mazel tov!

More on Tracy Jordan: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Down the Line” – Jose Gonzalez
(Words/music: Jose Gonzalez, available on In Our Nature, Peacefrog 2007)

A percussion instrument, by definition, creates sound through vibrations set into motion by striking, shaking, or scraping.  Even though the guitar falls into the “string section” (I remember my parts of the orchestra from elementary school!), there’s still a percussive quality to the instrument.  Sometimes a guitarist will literally turn the guitar into a drum by tapping out a rhythm on the body, and other times a guitarist makes a “scratching” noise by scraping strings muted by the fretting hand.  While some guitar lines float through the air like the nimble melody produced by a woodwind instrument, others wrap themselves around the beat, tying the harmony directly to the song’s pulse.  I guess this is where the term “rhythm guitar” finds its origin.

The guitar in “Down the Line” feels especially percussive.  Gonzalez plays his acoustic guitar with a heavy eighth note feel, threading a melody in between his quick rhythmic strums.  He plays it with an unwavering sense of time, giving the song a metronome-like pulse.  It sounds like the way the inside of a watch looks – different parts moving independently to accomplish the same purpose.  These different elements – the rhythmic guitar line, the melodic thread, and Gonzalez’ vocals – feel like gears working together to move the entire system.  Up close it appears brittle with craftsmanship so precise that one wrong note could derail the entire arrangement.  Still, taking a couple steps reveals it as a complete structure – one stronger than the sum of its parts.

More on Jose Gonzalez: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Don’t Stop Believing” – Petra Haden
(Words/music: Jonathan Cain, Steve Perry, and Neal Schon, available on Guilt By Association, Engine Room 2007)

“Don’t Stop Believing” makes people lose rational thought.  I don’t mean this as a dig on the song (to the contrary) but rather as an observation.  This is the kind of song that given the right setting – behind the wheel at a traffic light, a bar ten minutes before closing time, or that part of the brain where daydreams come from – turns otherwise average folks into air guitar heroes.  It’s a song that transcends personal listening habits and generational boundaries.  Perhaps it comes from that perfectly played piano intro, or maybe it earned points for the now iconic final scene in The Sopranos, but “Don’t Stop Believing” offers one of the surest bets to get a room singing along.   If pressed to name a primary culprit, I think it’s the song’s epic scale that seduces listeners.  Everything – Steve Perry’s voice, the lead guitar, the unabashed optimism in the story – sounds the way that a panoramic photograph of a city skyline looks. 

Petra Haden’s a capella take on “Don’t Stop Believing” respects this grandeur yet puts its own spin on it.  Every sound comes from Haden’s voice (as she’s done with The Who Sell Out and “God Only Knows”) layered on a multi-track, yet the final product sounds like a choir of (admittedly similar sounding) voices.  Whether intended or not, Haden’s interpretation captures both the shared public experience of singing “Don’t Stop Believing” with a bunch of other people as well as some of the more nuanced individual “responses” to the song.  She interprets each part of the arrangement as different “characters” with different inflection.  These characters include the faithful a capella purist flawlessly recreating the piano parts, the air guitar fiend who would recreate the sound while furiously finger-tapping an imaginary guitar, the detached hipster who hides genuine joy behind an ironic spoken-word interpretation of the pre-chorus, the karaoke singer who just slightly over-annunciates the end of each line in the verses, and the joyous masses belting out the chorus at the end of the song.  If it’s true that pop songs belong to the public once released, Haden has most of our parts covered for us.  All we need to do is stop thinking and join in.

More on Petra Haden: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm