Some Songs Considered

“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

“Stevie Nix” – The Hold Steady
(Words/music: The Hold Steady, available on Separation Sunday, Frenchkiss 2005) 

I felt sad for selfish reasons today when I saw that Franz Nicolay, the keyboard player for the Hold Steady, announced his departure from the band.  It sounds like Nicolay is leaving to focus on an array of other projects and seems like the right decision for him personally, so in that sense it’s a good thing for him.  I say that it’s selfish because I’m going to miss seeing him perform with the Hold Steady. 

Craig Finn’s distinctive storytelling and Tad Kulber’s classic rock-quoting riffs take up most of the attention, but Nicolay’s keyboard (going beyond piano to include harpsichord and accordion, among others) helped fill out the band’s sound.  At their live shows, Nicolay set up on stage right, flanking Craig Finn’s manic preacher performance with an array of gesticulations on top of his keyboard parts and backing vocals.  For most of the show, Nicolay remains a secondary player, content to let Finn and Kubler dominate the mix.  Then, when the band starts playing “Stevie Nix,” Nicolay has his moment in the spotlight.  After a couple blistering verses, the band stops and Nicolay turns the piano break before the final verse into a cadenza, improvising and extending the bridge with nimble trills and a giant smile.  It’s the one time of the show where all eyes are on Nicolay, and every time he made the audience feel like our attention belonged there all night.  As he finishes up and Finn resumes the story, the crowd erupts into thunderous applause (and if/when the band plays “First Night” in the encore, this routine repeats).  Perhaps the Hold Steady will recruit a new keyboard player eventually, and while they may play Nicolay’s parts, they will not be able to replace the man who played them.

I met Franz after a Hold Steady show once and he graciously talked to all of the gathered people for far longer than necessary (which I can say about all of the members in this band), and he was the same ebullient soul that bounced along behind the stage.  I wish him nothing but the best in all his new projects and look forward to hearing the end results.

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

“Certain Songs” - The Hold Steady
(Words/music: The Hold Steady, available on The Hold Steady Almost Killed Me, Frenchkiss 2004)

When I started on this project thirty days ago, I knew that I was embarking on something without a specific roadmap.  I knew that I had a yearning desire to share music and write about songs that have personal importance or sparked specific memories.  I also knew that I had the vague goal of “learning something about my taste in music.”  At this point, I know what I like, but I don’t always know why I like it.  Sometimes, it’s easy for me to explain; I can point to a specific lyric or a specific musical phrase that I’m constantly amazed by.  I can sit amazed at all the different textures and layers in a song that gradually reveal themselves over repeated listens.  Sometimes, however, there’s not a specific reason why I like a song.  It might make me think of the time when I first heard it or a specific time associated with it.  I might even dislike the rest of an album (or an entire catalog of songs) but love a specific song. 

So far, one of the things that I’ve learned is that for all of the different reasons why I love songs, there’s a few songs that I can’t quite explain.  Craig Finn says it best - “certain songs, they get scratched into our souls.”

I can’t understand people who see music as a fashion accessory – liking a band because it’s “cool” to like them, or because it fits a certain aesthetic.  Sure, we all have moments where we want to like something, whether it’s out of loyalty (like how I desperately tried to like R.E.M.’s Around the Sun), or a yearning to belong, or simply a desire to understand the appeal of something specific.  Still, there’s people who are too concerned with listing all of the bands they like – a sort of self-definition by iPod.  Many people will have you believe that you are what you listen to, but I strongly disagree.  It lies much deeper.

No, you are not what you listen to, but what you listen to becomes a part of you.  Even though we try, it’s near impossible to give a purely objective critique of a song or a band – we’re always filtering it through our own personal taste or our own circumstances surrounding the band.  I have certain songs accidentally associated with low moments that I no longer want to hear; conversely, I have songs that I didn’t like as much until I heard it live or heard it through a different context.  It’s impossible to take the critic (or, in this case, the blogger) out of the critique.

Instead, there are certain songs that supersede a rational critique.  Once we’ve experienced a song in an active way – more than just listening to it subconsciously while it plays in the background at our desks – it becomes a part of us and, to a degree, we becomes a part of the song.  The song becomes moments of personal recognition, remembrance, or rediscovery of ourselves. This has been one of the true joys of this project – I’m trying to give due to these songs (all of which I love), but by doing so, I have to acknowledge the part of me that’s present in each of them.  It’s been a uniquely rewarding experience to do so, and I’m looking forward to what awaits over the next eleven months, and I’m humbled that you’re coming along with me too.

I love “Certain Songs” for several reasons.  Craig Finn expertly crafts a few scenarios where songs augment some specific situations – Meat Loaf and Billy Joel soundtracking lazy summer nights on the east coast, hardcore shows for the rebellious youths out west, and different jukebox presets for the different groups of people that interact with it.  I love how the section before the final verse sounds like the heaviest marching band commanding compliance.  The guitars squeal and the drums barrel forward, only to reach a climax during the final moment of the song.  In each of the scenarios, Craig Finn reminds us that certain songs are “scratched into our souls” and by the end of the song, we all understand.  Two years ago I took a trip down to see the Hold Steady play at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, NJ – Bruce Springsteen’s hometown.  During the encore, Finn and keyboard player Franz Nicolay came out and performed a piano and voice version of this song, with Finn’s drunken gestures mimicking his narrative.  Every time I hear this song, I think of Finn turning his right hand into a claw and digging in towards the audience as he delivered his thesis to us.  That concert, and in particular this song, will always be scratched into my soul.

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