Some Songs Considered

“Make Me a Mixtape” – The Promise Ring
(Words/music: The Promise Ring, available on Electric Pink EP, Jade Tree 2000) 

Sometimes random shards of memory stick inside far longer than ever expected.  For instance, I remember years ago, probably in 2002, having an instant messenger conversation with my friend Dan that touched on the “perfection of Davey [vonBohlen] from the Promise Ring’s lisp.”  It was a passing point in a conversation long forgotten, but that single moment tucked away deep in my brain and resurfaces whenever the Promise Ring crosses my consciousness.  It’s the quickest way for me to identify a deep cut in their catalogue – I usually cue in on his voice before actively considering the song (or, sometimes the band itself).  In a way, it’s the Promise Ring’s beauty mark – a subtle, humanizing flaw that grows more charming with more time spent in its company. 

At times, it makes vonBohlen sound younger, particularly on “Make Me a Mixtape.”  Maybe I just associate the sentiment in this song with the time spent as a teenager on the floor of my bedroom with my boom box and stacks of records (and not to mention bands like the Promise Ring), but I imagine vonBohlen singing this song from a nostalgic place.  Considering the lyrics tonight for the first time in a long time, I’m struck at the similarities between my mixtape process and the one in this song.  I tend to think of a few songs or bands to serve as tent posts and then fill in the rest with things that work well around those.  I (almost) always accompanied these mixes, whether on tape or CD, with some kind of note or letter as well, generally opting for a track-by-track accompaniment (many of which read like a primitive form of these blog posts).  It makes me want to dig out the blank tapes in the back of my closet, gather a bunch of records, and over-think song transitions until dawn. 

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

“Let Down” – Pedro the Lion
(Words/music: Radiohead, available on Tour EP ’04, Jade Tree (digital) 2006)

Radiohead’s OK Computer stands as a giant in my personal musical history.  It was the first album that I loved that I didn’t love immediately.  Most of my early favorites were “safe” purchases because I knew most of the songs before buying them.  Thus, because I already loved four or five songs from the radio, I had confidence that I would love the rest of the album.  I bought OK Computer after hearing “Karma Police” a few times on the radio and occasionally catching a glimpse of the strange “Paranoid Android” video on MTV.  I probably bought it at the same time as other albums (maybe the Foo Fighters’ The Colour and the Shape) because I didn’t get much deeper into OK Computer than those two songs.  This is a bad habit that I still maintain – I’ll get a new record, listen to it once or twice (or, on occasion, not at all) and then for whatever reason (distraction, being preoccupied with work, or buying the record while being obsessed with another album) I let the album slip through the cracks.  For whatever reason, I picked OK Computer back up again and remember sitting through the whole album while playing Super Nintendo (probably F-Zero, but I’m not 100%).  The record finally caught hold of me – not just the loud parts at the end of “Paranoid Android” and “Karma Police” that I already loved, but a lot of the more subtle songs like “Subterranean Homesick Alien” and “Lucky.”  I remember being surprised at how much I enjoyed the album and that it was strange that it hadn’t already caught on with me.  It hooked me in enough that afternoon to earn the repeated plays that burned most of that record into my brain.

One of the things that I love when I hear songs from OK Computer is the way the band utilized the studio to build their songs.  I’ve always loved the way they layered all of the different elements in “Let Down” – letting the vocal harmonies, the different guitar lines, and the crisp percussion weave together to create this sonic tapestry.  Ultimately, though, my favorite element is the way Thom Yorke sounds tunefully morose.  It’s this melodic gloom that makes the song work, drawing on both a beautiful melody and the banal details of life’s disappointments.  This is why I’m drawn to David Bazan’s version of the song.  His voice carries a similarly melancholy tone, but while Yorke easily slips into the electronic ether his bandmates create to the point where he occasionally sounds more like a musical instrument than a vocalist, Bazan stands at the front of the arrangement.  This is how Pedro the Lion’s version, recorded live in the studio, works as a more stripped down arrangement.  Even without the same layering effect that makes Thom Yorke sound oppressed and overwhelmed in Radiohead’s version, Bazan’s strained voice occasionally sounds exhausted.  If he’s not being crushed like a bug, Bazan sounds fatigued from all of the strain.  Yorke’s protagonist loses himself in his existence, where Bazan’s version makes him sound entirely human, and perhaps too tired to continue to create meaning in a meaningless world.  Still, some might find beauty in the struggle, and both Yorke and Bazan sing “Let Down” in a way that makes me agree.

More on Pedro the Lion: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm