Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged '2009'

July 15, 2010

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“Carnival of Sorts (Boxcar)” – The Feelies
(Words/music: Bill Berry, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, Michael Stipe, recorded live in Woodstock, NY 9/12/2009 and available via nyctaper)

One of the unintended consequences to obsessing over a band is to unravel and retrace their influences. Being a devout R.E.M. fan meant travelling down several paths. The trio of Velvet Underground covers on Dead Letter Office made the Velvet Underground an obvious choice, as did Michael Stipe’s repeated and enthusiastic mentions of Patti Smith in various interviews. The Feelies came later only after someone connected the dots for me that R.E.M.’s earliest songs “sound a lot like Crazy Rhythms.” Sure enough, the same guitar tone (which I want to say that Buck said came from plugging the guitar directly into the mixing board, but I can’t remember exactly) and frantic energy filled these songs. If the Feelies weren’t a direct influence on R.E.M., they certainly drew from a similar pool of influences.

Naturally, when I saw that the Feelies recently covered an R.E.M. song from the Chronic Town EP, my heart nearly skipped a beat. Having seen the band perform earlier this year, I was eager to hear them play one of my favorite early R.E.M. tunes. Not surprisingly, they perfectly replicated the original’s guitar in tempo, tone, and tune – easily as good as the way R.E.M. played the song on tour in 2008, at least. It made sense, as this similarity drew me into the band in the first place. Even though vocalist Glenn Mercer flubbed a few lyrics (which, to be fair, Michael Stipe does on a regular basis), he captured not only the melody of the original but also the intonation in his delivery. His performance singing the tune made it sound as natural as one of his own, which is as good as a cover version gets. Aside from a mini guitar jam at the end, their version stays faithful to the original, which fit in nicely with the rest of the band’s set.

(Kudos to the always terrific nyctaper for sharing yet another brilliant live recording!)

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

TAGGED UNDER: the feelies | R.E.M. | 2009 | 2000s | live recording |

June 24, 2010

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“Sleep All Summer” – The National and St. Vincent
(Words/music: Eric Bachmann, available on SCORE! 20 Years of Merge Records: The Covers!, Merge Records, 2009)

The first ever second post on a single song! Here’s what I said about the original version last October:

Sonically, it feels like these warm October afternoons, specifically in the way the guitar sounds. The gently picked acoustic guitar sounds warm yet tempered by the wistful slide guitar lines that gently come and go. Whenever the bright notes cut through to the forefront, the somber slide guitar swoops back in like a cool breeze. Eric Bachmann and Lara Meyerratken’s vocals tug at these emotional strands as well. Bachman, especially when reaching for the higher notes, sounds bright especially when contrasted with Meyerratken’s even-keeled vocals. It’s when they sing together that Bachmann and Meyerratken bring out the best in each other’s voices and channel that early autumnal warmth. Even without listening to the words, it’s clear that these two characters sound conflicted – in this case, it’s a longing to reconnect with a lover while realizing that the spark is gone. Lots of pop songs use the seasons as a metaphor for life, but few feel as focused on the moments of flux between seasons as “Sleep All Summer.” It captures the feeling of summer’s last moments before fall. Like the love between these characters, change is inevitable, for better or worse.

And even in June, I’m not going to argue with that logic. If anything, The National’s Matt Berninger’s deeper voice sounds even more autumnal than Eric Bachmann. Like Bachmann and Meyerratken in the original, Berninger and Annie Clark play off each other, letting their voices gently intertwine during the chorus without becoming completely inseparable. It’s a faithful homage to the original without being redundant, largely because it’s nice to hear Berninger and Clark sing together. Hearing it now at the beginning of the summer, I’m more drawn to the breezy tone rather than the somber story; in short, I hope my summer is full of evenings where “Sleep All Summer” would be an appropriate soundtrack.

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

More on St. Vincent: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

June 7, 2010

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“Higher than the Stars” – The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
(Words/music: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart, available on Higher than the Stars EP, Slumberland 2009)

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart came through Connecticut last Thursday and played a tight and fun set. The band locked in from the first note and played with an understated charisma and confidence rarely seen in a band with only an LP, an EP, and a handful of singles to their name. I wasn’t surprised by their musicianship, as quickness and precision make many of their songs terrific, nor the extra punch in their live set. I wasn’t surprised by the way the bass would peek out of the live mix, or the giddy ways that vocalists Kip Berman and Peggy Wang-East gently harmonized. Nothing from the Pains’ set, save for their charmingly hilarious banter about finding a bar after the show, surprised me nearly as much as the crowd.

The audience crowded up to the front of the stage and bounced along moderately and followed each song with enthusiastic cheers and applause, none of which surprised me – after all, their self-titled LP grew on me more and more with every listen. The surprise came when I started looking at the people around me. At first, it was the people singing the lyrics – all of the lyrics – to themselves. This wasn’t in the loud, band spurred sing-alongs, but rather the way one sings along quietly to yourself to a personal favorite. Aside from the new tunes, people on both sides of me were mouthing along the lyrics to every single song. Even more surprising was that some of these people had their eyes closed! At first it seemed strange, but then near the end of “Higher than the Stars” I had a moment of recognition. When the “back of her mother’s car” line, the song’s hook that waits as long as possible before sneaking out, I realized that not only was I singing along without realizing it, I was also clutching the copy of the “Say No to Love” single I picked up between sets. I felt odd only for a split second before I understood all the responses going on around me. These are the kind of songs that trigger these moments of immersion, and when they are played with the conviction and skill that this band naturally exudes, it’s impossible not to radiate the same sort of joy yourself.

More on The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart | 2009 | 2000s | slumberland records | live review of sorts | EP |

May 24, 2010

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“Learned to Surf” - Superchunk
(Words/music: Superchunk, available on Leaves in the Gutter EP, Merge Records 2009 / Merge Records 2010 Digital Sampler)

Saturday night’s post on the Strokes marked the 500th different song covered since starting this blog. These five hundred posts include two I wrote last year as part of a now-defunct feature titled “More Songs Considered.” This post is the second of those two and ran in a much longer form last July.

From last July:

It’s now 2009 and Superchunk have reemerged with a new EP and a new single. “Learned to Surf,” the lead track from the Leaves in the Gutter EP, springs forth with the same energy that inhabits the band’s best work. I’ve listened to this song dozens of times over the past few months and I’m still in awe of the way it snaps so quickly from that opening riff into the muscular verses. Drummer Jon Wurster is the secret weapon, particularly for the way he uses his toms efficiently in the first chorus. Rather than barrel through the song, Wurster dances across his kit, making it sound even stronger when he hits full speed. This doesn’t sound like a band trying to recapture their golden days – this is a band that sounds completely rejuvenated and ready to contribute.

I especially love the sentiment in the chorus - “I stopped swimming and learned to surf.” At this point, Superchunk could have made ripples by reissuing their albums and touring on old material. However, true to form, it’s not merely good enough to tread water – Superchunk is back in the ocean and ready to tackle the waves. It’s a great point about the difference between surviving and remaining vital. At some point, we all feel like we’re content enough to just keep our heads above water. However, sometimes we end up in a pattern where we get used to “good enough” and lose sight of getting better. Once we hit some level of success, it’s easy to feel content and tread water for a while. In a way, that’s how this blog came about – I’ve been swimming in music for more than half of my life, and it was time that I stopped swimming and learned to surf. It means falling off my board every so often, but I feel like I’m getting better and (if nothing else) I can spot which waves I want to take in now. So I can appreciate the risk involved with learning a new trick. I should be amazed that Superchunk came back sounding as good as ever, but the band’s never been content to settle for treading water.

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

May 23, 2010

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“Lisztomania” - Phoenix
(Words/music: Phoenix, available on Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, Glassnote 2009)

Last night, I wrote about my 500th different song counting two extra posts I wrote last year as part of a now-defunct feature called “More Songs Considered.” I have a longer, more thoughtful acknowledgment of these first 500 posts for tomorrow, but first I wanted to re-post those bonus posts with the song as well. So here’s an edited version of my thoughts about “Lisztomania” from last May.

“Lisztomania” demands attention, with the secret to its charm being the rare pop song that sounds meticulously arranged yet still maintains the groove of a looser, sloppier song. Sure, that repetitive guitar riff runs through the songs like its pulse, but it’s a series of tiny embellishments that make the song feel looser. A few of these elements – the way that the different keyboard parts enter the song and cut out, the way Thomas Mars repeats certain words and syllables, or the way the tom-tom notes in the first verse seem to drop out of nowhere - make the song seem like a series of happy accidents. However, every note is intentional and functional, building to create the net effect with only the necessary parts. In particular, I marvel at the efficient drumming – by keeping the drumming in the verse to the snare, bass drum, and the tom fills, the song feels faster when it’s added in to the chorus even though the tempo remains the same. Phoenix pulls off all of these tricks with grace and skill, whether it’s dropping the beat right at the start of the chorus or adeptly shifting from one second to the next.

Most importantly, “Lisztomania” radiates fun – it’s hard to listen to the song and not tap along as a minimum. Only rarely do we get a pop song that’s meticulously arranged, insanely catchy, and feels like it’s being played by a band that’s having fun. There’s no doubt how comfortable Phoenix is as a band, even when playing to (perhaps) their biggest television audience yet. I’ve watched this video at least a dozen times and every time I’m amazed at two things. First, I’m impressed that they can nail a song that relies on precision without sounding entirely stiff. Additionally, I’m drawn in by the way many of the band members move their feet – they’re bouncing around the stage with an unbridled, natural joy to be performing, and I have to think that this fun translates into their song. They should have fun too, because they’ve created one of the finest songs of 2009.

More on Phoenix: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm | Twitter

April 23, 2010

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“Useful Chamber” – Dirty Projectors
(Words/music: David Longstreth, available on Bitte Orca, Domino 2009)

When discussing rock music’s structure, “verse-chorus-verse” gets the most traction because it’s the most common form. It’s a valid discussion largely because it gives us a common vocabulary – I can refer to the third verse or the post-chorus and generally most of you can follow along. It’s not the only way to discuss the structure of a rock song – it’s just the most familiar and generally the easiest. There are some times where I’ll hear a song and think of it in a different layout. For example, I heard “Useful Chamber” earlier tonight for the first time in a while and caught myself marveling at the way that Dave Longstreth plays with tension in the song. At the heart of the song is the glorious freakout where the Bitte Orca album gets its title, but it’s the way that Longstreth surrounds it that catapults it into the stratosphere.

I came home, put the song on, and sketched out a “road map” to follow it along. It ended up looking like one of those workout presets on a treadmill – the one with the increasing hills. The song begins with a slow part best characterized by a subdued drum beat and long, squealing notes (a “verse,” I suppose, in the spirit of this post’s introduction). It then moves into a false pre-chorus that rumbles a little, stirring things up just a little until the song shifts back to the slow verse (the first “hill,” if you will). After this verse, the pre-chorus returns for a longer, more developed interval, only to cut out to just the drums and Longstreth’s low and rhythmic vocals (hill #2). After two and a half minutes – usually where most verse-chorus-verse songs hit the home stretch, the chaotic “chorus” hits with its frenzied glory. After revealing the song’s key section, Longstreth faces the dilemma of rebuilding the song to match, if not top, this early peak. He goes back to the “verse,” only with the persistent female backing vocals (which I labeled as “sirens” on my chart). After this verse (which feels longer than the first two times), everything drops out except for a single guitar. Like a recently lit wick on a bomb, the guitar sparks around sporadically before the explosion into a false-chorus (guitars but no vocals). From here, Longstreth returns to the pre-chorus for a third time, finally using it to introduce the final chorus. If “Useful Chamber” was an amusement park roller coaster, it would be worth the wait in line.

More on Dirty Projectors: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

April 16, 2010

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“Dick in a Box” – The Lonely Island f/ Justin Timberlake
(Words/music: Andy Samberg, Akiva Schaffer, Jorma Taccone, Asa Taccone, Justin Timberlake, Katreese Barnes, available on Incredibad, Universal Republic 2009)

Last night during the Saturday Night Live in the 2000s retrospective, Justin Timberlake (paraphrased through Andy Samberg and now me) made the comment that the song in the Digital Short video should be something that people “actually kind of like listening to,” and to me that’s what makes “Dick in a Box” the best of the Lonely Island’s songs. Where “Lazy Sunday” became a smash more for its video (and a couple key lines), people went around singing “Dick in a Box” for ages. Sure, it doesn’t stand up with the best of Timberlake’s singles, but it’s written just well enough to deliver the joke in a smooth melody. It’s goofy and ridiculous primarily, but Timberlake’s falsetto and the smooth Color Me Badd-like production bring this to another level. This complete immersion into this universe – the characters, the genre, the performance, whatever – brings the joke to another level.

I’ve been enjoying thinking about music videos a little bit this week, and it’s appropriate that I end it with “Dick in a Box,” because in many ways this represents the state of music videos these days. I’m sure most of the people who saw the “Dick in a Box” video saw it through a friend sharing or linking to it rather than on the original SNL broadcast, and the most successful videos (for argument’s sake, let’s consider this a music video) embrace their viral qualities. Your friend probably sent this to you because it’s funny and if anything you thought about the song only after laughing. Same thing with those OK Go videos – without passing judgment on those songs, someone probably sent one of their videos to you because they are clever and well-executed, not necessarily because you needed to hear the song. I’ve always felt that the video should serve the song and in these cases the song takes a back seat to the clip. It works in the case of “Dick in a Box” because it’s not the same without those beards and the ladies’ reactions. Otherwise, I hope I’m wrong in this point lest music videos become too concerned with YouTube views rather than enhancing the song.

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

April 7, 2010

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“End in Flames” – Strand of Oaks
(Words/music: Timothy Showalter, available on Leave Ruin, La Societe Expeditionnaire 2009)

Everything about the beginning of “End in Flames,” the first track on Strand of Oaks’ Leave Ruin, sounds like the moment in a film where the dialogue mutes and the camera slows, forcing the audience’s eye on a specific detail. Whether it’s the gentle way the guitar fades in or the tone it produces, the song casts an eerie dream-like feeling to this scene. By the time Tim Showalter sings the first line, “I thought I was too old to have dreams like this,” I’m drawn in the same way that a perfect shot in a movie leaves me breathlessly engrossed into the world of the film.

The strange thing about this image “End in Flames” produces is that this isn’t the kind of music that most people might call “cinematic.” Then again, this hypothetical scene isn’t exactly a “big screen” sort of moment, either. Instead, it’s the stark minimalism in both the arrangement and the storytelling that works so well. This efficiency empowers every note and every word, making the moments with extra details more potent and the sparest moments command attention. Even when telling this personal narrative, Showalter has a captivating quality in his songwriting that coaxes his audience to listen a little closer. Where others might scream, Showalter gives a melodic whisper as commanding as an entire Marshall stack.

(As postscript, one of the last things I did in 2009 was chat with Tim Showalter. It was right after he finished playing a New Year’s Eve set and we had a funny and enthusiastic conversation about music and teaching (he used to teach and I currently do), ending with me buying him a Brooklyn Winter Ale. I just recently saw a video of Tim playing a new song “Sterling” on Muzzle of Bees and instantly slipped remembered what a terrific performer and great dude he was. He wrapped up a new record recently and hopefully it has “Sterling,” one of my favorite songs of his on it).

More on Strand of Oaks: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

March 31, 2010

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“Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell (Remix)” – Das Racist & Wallpaper
(Words/music: Das Racist & Wallpaper, digital download 2009)

Essentially one joke prolonged to the point where it’s a little twisted, “Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell” benefits from this lively remix. DJ Wallpaper breathes some life into the beat, giving the track the legs it needed to get past the line that makes up almost all of its lyrics. Perhaps it’s the commitment to the joke (three and a half minutes with only a few digressions!), or maybe it’s the moments where they go off script, but “Combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell” initially seduces with its goofy charm and somehow manages to stick around. It may not be one for the ages, but it’s 2010 and I’m still sucked into it every so often.

It’s an auspicious introduction that may only scratch the surface. Das Racist released their first mix tape – the first material past “Combination…” and “Rainbow in the Dark” that I’ve heard from them. “Rainbow in the Dark,” which thankfully namedrops Ronnie James Dio near the end, expands the group’s lyrical range, giving more of the odd free associations only hinted at in “Combination…” Most of the time, they are goofy rather than outright stupid, and occasionally the turns of phrase brush up against brilliance. The jury is out as to whether this is a one-joke machine, but even if it is, it’s one that got far more mileage than I might have guessed.

More on Das Racist: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

March 30, 2010

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“Bear” – The Antlers
(Words/music: Peter Silberman, available on Hospice, Frenchkiss 2009)

I’m not interested in using this space to try to parse the meaning of “Bear,” mainly because Peter Silberman spells out the entire story arc of Hospice in his lyrics and liner notes. I’m far more interested in the tone his narrator takes on this song. For the most part, “Bear” crafts some strong images that give insight into the relationship between the album’s two key characters. Icy keyboard surrounds the lyrics, and Peter Silberman sings in a continued way that makes him sound insistent in his storytelling. All of this builds as the song goes on, with the story gathering steam as the song itself picks up.

Then he gets to the “all the while I’ll know we’re fucked / and not getting un-fucked soon” line, and the first few times I heard this I found it frustrating. It wasn’t quite a dealbreaker (in this sense a lyric that makes an otherwise fine song unbearable – more on that another time) but in a song that seems so careful with its details, it seemed a little clumsy. Then I thought about it a little bit, honestly, for the same exact reasons; Silberman seems so deliberate with his language elsewhere that he wouldn’t drop a pair of “fuck”s out of laziness. I started to think about the first person narrator and the feeling of uncertain dread particularly in this song, and I started to think about the moments where I’m paralyzed by fear. Needless to say, those aren’t my most eloquent moments. The line, particularly the pairing of “fucked” and “un-fucked,” goes back to the tension and uncertainty in the chorus (“we’re too old / we’re not old at all”). Perhaps it bugged me because it immediately cut to the character’s core, exposing his frustration, fear, and anger all at once, making it uncomfortable by design rather than lazy.

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

TAGGED UNDER: the antlers | 2009 | 2000s | Frenchkiss Records |

March 19, 2010

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“Feel It All Around” – Washed Out
(Words/music: Ernest Greene, available on Life of Leisure, Mexican Summer 2009)

“Feel It All Around” reminds me of the old boombox my parents owned. It had a “tone” knob on it rather than separate controls for bass and treble. I used to play around with it to try and figure out what “tone” actually meant, eventually settling on liking it turned all the way up to the highest setting – the equivalent of turning both the bass and treble up to its highest. Eventually, my ears preferred a more balanced setting, but I remember spending too much time trying to decide on why someone would want to listen to something with the tone all the way down.

So when I first heard this song a little while ago (I’m not terribly cool, sorry), it reminded me of the lower settings of that tone knob. The music sounds, appropriately, washed of its more extreme sonic qualities, leaving just the middle. The result is a track that sounds somewhat hypnotic or even dreamlike (“fever dream” came to mind, but probably because I’ve been sick the past week or so). By burying its melodies deep in this vague soundscape, it takes a little more time for it to reveal all of its secrets. It might come across as deliberately retro or lo-fi, but I imagine it took a lot of work to sound this casual.

More on Washed Out: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 28, 2010

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“Ecstasy” – jj
(Words/music: jj, available on jj n° 2, Secretly Canadian 2009)

A few years back, rappers and DJs looked to Scandinavia for samples, with Peter Bjorn and John’s “Young Folks” married to an assortment of freestyles on mixtapes. This time around, it’s the mysterious Swedish pop group jj lifting the track from Lil’ Wayne’s “Lollipop.” It’s all there – the echoing keyboard, the melody, and even the beat. Other than softening the drums slightly and trading Wayne’s auto-tuned purr for the hazy, distant sounding female vocals, “Ecstasy” and “Lollipop” sound like siblings. Both even take place in a club, although Wayne has his attention on the ladies while jj offers a paean to their club drug of choice.

Still, the first time through jj n° 2 was jarring, if only because I wasn’t expecting this turn. The first few tracks are bright and bouncy, featuring woodwinds and hand drums. I had it on in the background and enjoyed it while cooking dinner and maybe because I was preoccupied I didn’t notice the keyboard line right away. It wasn’t until the hook came in with the same melody and enough similar syllables to get me to put down the frying pan and turn quizzically toward the stereo. Even if it seemed out of place, I still found it compelling. Where the overall skeeviness of Wayne’s lyrics in “Lollipop” (where he’s nowhere near as clever as his finer moments) turned me off, “Ecstasy” sounds somewhat hypnotic and captivating. Where I’d probably feel out of place in a dance club that played “Lollipop” (which is to say that I’d feel uncomfortable in just about any dance club), there’s an inviting warmth to “Ecstasy.” Maybe it’s the song’s lower intensity, but I feel like I could survive in a place playing that song.

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

February 21, 2010

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“History (Live on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon)” – Mos Def & Talib Kweli featuring the Roots and Amber & Angel from the Dirty Projectors
(Words/music: Talib Kweli Greene, Dante Smith, James Yancey, Cecil Womack, Mary Wells-Womack, originally available on Mos Def’s The Ecstatic, Downtown 2009)

In the closing of his review of The Ecstatic for Pitchfork, Nate Patrin boils “History” down to its most crucial details: “It’s a Black Star reunion over a Dilla beat.” Not that either Talib Kweli’s presence on the track or production from the late J Dilla requires instant success (nor does Mos Def necessarily need the help), but it certainly turns a few more heads that way. Sure enough, neither the former Black Star MCs nor the departed Dilla disappoint. “History” coasts on a smooth soul sample that feels more looped than chopped, with Mos Def and Talib Kweli reflecting on their personal history. While Mos Def’s first verse deals primarily with personal history, Kweli evokes Black Star’s name, contrasting with the current era of rappers who “dumb it down considerably.” Even if “History” isn’t as essential as that Black Star LP, it is, like Mos Def says in the outro, “not a comeback in particular.” Instead, it’s an enjoyable track from a duo many would love to hear record an entire album.

As for the production, this version from Jimmy Fallon’s late night performance feels like a two and a half minute homage to Dilla’s production. With The Roots and the female vocalists from the Dirty Projectors providing the music, the musical talent on stage could rival Mos Def and Talib Kweli’s lyrical capabilities. However, rather than try to embellish on Dilla’s production, the musicians carefully replicate his soulful track. ?uestlove, perhaps Dilla’s most prominent supporter in the last few years, even commented via Twitter (forgive the missing link – that man tweets a lot!) how impressed he was that Amber and Angel could pick up the subtleties in the way the intonation of “History” changes throughout the track. Appropriately, the show’s mix probably had the MCs a little lower than necessary. As a (unintended) result, I find myself focusing less on the words and instead on the rhythm of the delivery mixed with the track itself. If nothing else, it makes me want to spend all my eMusic credits this month solely on Dilla produced beats.

More on Mos Def: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 1, 2010

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“Living Well is the Best Revenge (Live)” – R.E.M.
(Words/music: Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Michael Stipe, available on Live at the Olympia, Warner Brothers 2009)

Earlier today, Yahoo! Sports Kelly Dwyer wrote an unexpected treatise on fandom. I encourage you to read his post not only if you’re a sports fan, but if you’re a passionate fan of anything. Dwyer, a life-long Chicago Bulls fan, looked back at his obsessive fanaticism during the end of the Bulls’ dynasty and subsequent recession into mediocrity. His advice is to maintain joy even in the most critical moments. “Nothing’s guaranteed save for the joy you create,” Dwyer writes, and the more I thought about what he wrote, the more it made sense beyond the world of sports. Even if there aren’t championships to win or lose in music (and let’s be honest, the Grammy’s or Billboard #1s aren’t equivalents), there’s the same gamut of emotions when a favorite band missteps or disappears, whether it’s betrayal or disappointment or depression. To be a fan is to open yourself up to heartbreak as much as it’s to open yourself up to euphoria.

As a fan, I have the longest and strongest allegiances to R.E.M.. They were one of the first bands I obsessed over, and remain the band I return to the most often. They are the most played band on my Last.fm profile by several hundred plays. Over the past decade and a half, I’ve seen the band’s popularity recede and return gently. Their output over this period runs the gamut from surprisingly charming to crushingly disappointing, to the point where I started to write the band off around the middle of the last decade. This is what made 2008’s Accelerate such an important album – one that revived my faith in the band and brought me back to long-forgotten corners of their back catalogue.

When the band toured in support of the album in 2008, I bought tickets to three different shows, none of which were in my home state. I ventured to Massachusetts and came within 30 feet of the stage. I braved a torrential downpour and near-brush with lightning in Long Island. I took several days off from work to take the train down to Philadelphia and even bought scalped tickets just to move up a couple dozen rows. Despite the time and money invested, I didn’t question my decision because deep down, I knew the fleeting nature of this moment. Somewhere deep in my brain I knew that the band might never sound this good again (and the jury’s out on that, hopefully I’m wrong), but rather than dwell on the tour as the band’s swan song, I wanted to be in the house for every possible second I could. To this day, I have notebook pages full of thoughts from these shows, dozens of blurry pictures, and archived downloads of every bootleg I could find. I’m even on YouTube ruining a perfectly good video of “Begin the Begin” by singing along too close to the camera. All of these artifacts bring me back to the sheer joy of seeing one of my favorite bands perhaps at their best moment during my fandom.

“Joy” is the operative word here, and it’s the key to being a fan. As Dwyer suggests, there will always be imperfections (not to mention the lingering feeling that what goes up must come back down). These are valid parts of fandom yet shouldn’t preclude the reason for being a fan in the first place. In reference to these moments, Dwyer says, “So make them work for you. Don’t ever let up, and question everything, but make them work.” It’s easier said than done, especially when disappointment sets in. Still, I’m brought back to the end of Michael Stipe’s speech accepting R.E.M.’s enshrinement in the rock and roll hall of fame. Stipe shares that his grandmother interpreted the band’s name as an acronym for “remember every moment,” and I can’t think of a better definition of fandom than that.

More on R.E.M.: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

January 15, 2010

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“Countdown” – Phoenix
(Words/music: Phoenix, available on Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, Glass Note 2009)

The biggest knock on Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix is that it’s frontloaded. “Lisztomania” and “1901” set the bar so high off the bat that it’s natural to suggest that it never gets as good as those opening seven minutes (or, alternately, that Phoenix tries in vain to replicate the same magic for the rest of the record). It’s an unfair standard for the rest of the album, and in many ways Phoenix goes in different directions after the opening pair. Sure, they are undeniably Phoenix songs and carry the same manicured sound and snappiness, but with different twists – whether the nod to their dancier roots on “Fences” or a mini-prog jam on the “Love Like a Sunset” suite too.

“Countdown,” especially when compared with the joyous bounce in “Lisztomania,” starts off in a haze. Cymbal crashes and keyboard chords wash together before the drums cut through the fog. Eventually, it revs up to a steady tempo and starts to feel more like a Phoenix song, particularly in the way Thomas Mars repeats certain lines and phrases before moving on. Still, the back and forth motion between this washy opening and the mid-tempo stomp play off each other, making the entire song feel slightly unsettled. However, “Countdown” still reaches the same high points as the other more overtly anthemic songs on the album – particularly the lyric “do you remember when twenty-one years was old,” perhaps the single line on the album that best describes its appeal. This liveliness makes “Countdown” and the album as a whole a joy to listen almost a year later, and helped make Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix my favorite album released in 2009.

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

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