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“New Ways of Living” – Destroyer
(Words/music: Dan Bejar, available on Your Blues, Merge Records 2004)

Calling Dan Bejar’s songs “strange” shortchanges both the man and his compositions.  Whether providing a handful of digressions from Carl Newman’s straight-forward power-pop with the New Pornographers or spinning densely melodic songs with Destroyer, Bejar challenges himself creatively with each new release. Still, “creative” might not be the first adjective one might think of when hearing “New Ways of Living” for the first time, as the rapid changes in tempo and Bejar’s exaggerated intonation make it sound like a bizarre piece of musical theatre.  This works for Bejar mainly because he’s too clever to fall in the trap of “musical theatre” meaning “be as literal as possible.”  The song has the same types of odd imagery, self-referential jokes, and wordplay that led fans to create a wiki resource devoted to Destroyer and Bejar’s songs.

However, “New Ways of Living” endears itself to me more for its musical quirks than its pseudo-Sondheim vocals.  The quick tempo changes at the beginning work well because the quick snare drum rolls drive from the gently strummed introduction into the piano vamp.  Bejar’s choice to use MIDI sequencing liberally across the Your Blues album gives this song a dream-like quality.  The synth-strings that come in sound slightly metallic yet not obscenely synthetic; instead, it makes the song sound slightly off-kilter and other-worldly.  Even the blatantly canned effects, such as the weird horn arpeggios right at the end of the track, somehow make sense – even if it sounds like iTunes telling me that my CD finished ripping, it somehow fits into Bejar’s arrangement. All of these musical factors – the shifts in tempo, the MIDI accompaniments, and the slightly over-the-top performance – make Bejar’s song unique and yes, strange as well.  Like all of his best songs, “New Ways of Living” sounds like pop from a parallel cartoon-like universe – one where pop songs bend and warp slightly, twisting into something entirely new by the time it’s done playing.

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

TAGGED UNDER: destroyer | dan bejar | the new pornographers | 2004 | 2000s | merge | track analysis | musical theatre played by cartoon characters |
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“Through with People” – Portastatic
(Words/music: Mac McCaughan, available on Bright Ideas, Merge 2005)

A few days ago, I wondered about the “burden of creativity,” or rather, when the need for self-expression becomes a duty rather than a privilege.  I’m not sure Mac McCaughan has ever felt this burden, as he has put out records (both his own and other people’s, but let’s focus on his own) fairly consistently for the last twenty years. If anything, McCaughan might need to decide how to put out a song – save it for Superchunk, or put it out under his Portastatic moniker.  I’m sure that he’s answered the question, and I’d imagine that the answer gives some difference between what makes a “Superchunk song” and what makes a “Portastatic song.”  Still, I’d love to ask McCaughan this question in order to learn more about his songwriting process.  If I ever get the chance to meet him (perhaps if I make it down to the Merge XX anniversary), this would be my first question for him.

While most of the early Portastatic albums were alternate settings for McCaughan’s songs outside of Superchunk’s buzzsaw pop, some of the later albums blur the lines between his flagship group and his “solo” work.  In particular, “Through with People” from 2005’s Bright Ideas seems like it could have been a Superchunk song.  It has all of the key elements – a catchy melody, McCaughan’s wry lyrics, and an upbeat tempo (even if the Portastatic recording would be a bit slow for Superchunk).  Aside from the tempo being turned up (only slightly), I imagine a Superchunk interpretation would be very similar.  If anything, it might have a bit more punch (especially if John Wurster was behind the drums) than this version.  That’s not to say this version doesn’t work – it’s an excellent song, and even if I hear it a bit faster in my head, the tempo gives the arrangement enough room to work behind McCaughan.  In particular, I love the way it shifts seamlessly from one part of the song to the next, even without a traditional “chorus” section.  Since it had been about four years since Superchunk put out a record (and now, eight years later, they’re only getting around to a new EP), I can’t help but wonder if “Through With People” and a few of the more uptempo songs on Bright Ideas became Portastatic sounds out of default.  It’s one of my favorite Portastatic songs and one of my favorite recent McCaughan compositions (and I also love Barbara Manning’s faithful cover on the covers disc in Merge’s SCORE! anniversary series), but every time I hear those muted power chords in the middle of the verse, a small part of me wonders what it might sound like played in the same setlist as “Precision Auto.”

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

TAGGED UNDER: portastatic | 2005 | 2000s | merge | track analysis | superchunk | mac mccaughan |
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“Wake Up (live in the crowd at Judson Memorial Church, New York 2/16/2007)” – Arcade Fire
(Words/music: Arcade Fire, original version available on Funeral, Merge Records 2004)

First, there’s no way that a live MP3 can capture this performance properly.  I didn’t see the Arcade Fire at the Judson shows and when I saw them later on in the Neon Bible tour they did not play “Wake Up” at all, let alone in the crowd.  Still, the other time I saw them, Arcade Fire paraded out through the crowd chanting the end of “In the Backseat,” so I can imagine what this was like.  That being said, I love the way that this sounds – the recording makes the drums, horns, and mandolin audible along with the crowd singing in unison.  Thankfully, the recording captures the audience as a group rather than one or two individuals (save for a little chatter right at the beginning that mercifully ends).  It’s pretty cool that the band immersed itself in the crowd to perform the song, and the recording preserves that sense.

It’s also appropriate because “Wake Up” is the song that turned a lot of people (myself included) on to the Arcade Fire.  Sure, the soaring strings and Win Butler’s straining vocals made it sound larger than life, but I imagine the song’s lyrics drew just as many people in as well.  On an album borne out of the loss of several family members, “Wake Up” confronts the death of innocence as we grow up, and as the innocence wears away, we expose ourselves to the harsh realities of the world.  When we’re young (or feeling youthful, at least), we feel the way that “Wake Up” sounds – grand, wide-eyed, and ready to do battle.  It’s the adjustment that kills us – learning that we aren’t as invincible as we feel, stepping back and taking stock of life.  The musical transition from the broad processional feel of the first three quarters of the song to the more subdued final stretch underscores the lyrical theme – just as Butler declares that he’ll have to adjust, his band shifts into a double-time shuffle with softly sung vocals rather than the throaty screams in the first half. 

However, rather than seem mournful over lost youth, “Wake Up” celebrates the part of youth that stays with us as we get older.  Even as we grow larger and endure life’s hardships, we still have those moments where we reconnect with the part of ourselves that make us feel like we’re the gods of our world ready to hurl bolts of lightning at will.  The moment at Judson, I can imagine, was one of these “lightning bolt” moments where people felt the youthful rush of being part of a flawless moment.  This is probably also the same reason that “Wake Up’s” inclusion in the trailer for Spike Jonze’s adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are resonated with so many people over the past few days.  This is the power of songs – songs let us reach down inside ourselves, reconnect with our personal past, and even if only for a fleeting moment, let youth’s lightning strike twice.

More on Arcade Fire: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: arcade fire | 2004 | 2007 | 2000s | live performance | merge |
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“Lloyd, I’m Ready to be Heartbroken” - Camera Obscura
(Words/music: Camera Obscura, available on Let’s Get Out of This Country, Merge Records 2006)

Pop music paints love as a binary entity; when it’s present, it’s the source of inspiration, and when it’s absent, it’s the source of pain (either heartbreak’s ache or lust’s longing).  Few songs look at the complex continuum in between the perfect absence and presence of love – for example, the type of love that grows deeper and more profound each day, or the type of love that causes irrational, destructive behavior.  Love inspires many of our everyday actions (whether it’s love of self, love of success, or love for another) and takes on many forms.  It’s not just a pudgy, winged baby with a bow and arrow that sells greeting cards and spare tire-producing chocolates, for sure.

Camera Obscura’s “Lloyd, I’m Ready to be Heartbroken” focuses on the complex emotions associated with falling in love.  Love warms hearts, but it also requires putting yourself out in a vulnerable place.  Trust is essential for a healthy relationship, but for many people trust is difficult.  Without complete and mutual trust, the protagonist notes that the door’s open for jealousy, rejection, and yes, heartbreak.  Still, she’s ready to give herself over to her love for Lloyd (who Allmusic tells me is singer Lloyd Cole, author of the song “Are You Ready to be Heartbroken?” and not Lloyd Dobbler from Say Anything, as I originally thought) even if it limits her foresight.  Musically, the band creates an atmosphere that replicates this reluctantly wounded infatuation.  The organ introduction could be a church’s organ (making this the oddest wedding vows I’ve ever heard) or just a way to give the song just a tinge of sadness.  When the song picks up its lively tempo, the strings and horns give a retro-pop feel, but also evoke the melancholic songs of that era.  While the protagonist wants to open herself up, she also realizes that her decision will probably ultimately leave her emotionally fractured.  A pessimist might say that this is how all relationships end, but others might retort that the moments leading up to the end make it all worth it.  Personally, as with many things, I think the answer lies somewhere in between.

More on Camera Obscura: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: camera obscura | 2006 | 2000s | indie pop | merge | track analysis | somewhat realistic depictions of love |
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“Tonight I Have to Leave It” - Shout Out Louds (Words: Adam Olenius, Music: Shout Out Louds, available on Our Ill Wills, Merge 2007)

One thing I know for certain about my taste in music – I have a propensity for sad songs that sound deceptively upbeat. On a first listen (and this song grabbed me from the first listen), the bright acoustic strums, a-go-go bells (those multi-pitched cowbells rarely heard outside of latin music), and even that bright synth make it seem like it’s a cheery indie-pop song. Even the lyric about going out dancing strengthens the bond to The Black Kids’ “I’m Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You” (of course, the fact that both songs bear debts to Robert Smith’s melancholy pop only strengthens the connection. However (like in “Boyfriend…”), beneath this perky veneer lies a melancholy tale of someone who “just want[s] to be bothered with real love” and thus has to move on from a current love interest / dance partner. Only once we get to the second verse where Olenius addresses this former flame by declaring “oh you’re not sorry, no you’re not”. The song comes close to the time honored pop song tradition of “I’m better off without you”, but instead it seems content enough to celebrate the choice to move on. In this case, absence prevents the heart from feeling fonder.

I’m not going to attempt to explain why I/anyone likes sad songs (I’m content enough to let High Fidelity tackle that one), but I know that I’m always suckered in by these types of songs. Maybe it’s the optimist in me coming out - “yeah, it’s a bummer that you’re getting burned, dude, but at least we can dance it away?”

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

TAGGED UNDER: shout out louds | merge | 2007 | 2000s | indie rock | track analysis |
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