Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged 'merge records'

March 1, 2010

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“Your Blood” – Destroyer
(Words/music: Dan Bejar, available on Destroyer’s Rubies, Merge Records 2006)

To those of you who don’t know Dan Bejar’s music, I’ll tell you that this song sounds a lot different than “‘Your Blood’ by Destroyer” might have sounded were I to describe the song based solely on the two names involved. Somehow, I imagine Bejar likes that sort of misdirection; his songs defy typical genre labels, calling for the even less-telling adjectives “quirky” and “eccentric.” Whether composing mini pop-suites complete with MIDI synthesizers or twisting the pure pop of the New Pornographers a couple times each album (and his contributions are always among my favorites), Bejar has a way of making these less-than-likely decisions sound catchy. Against whatever odds one might place on a pop song successfully referencing several of Camus’ works, Bejar succeeds.

“Your Blood” may as well be called “The Freewheeling Dan Bejar,” as it glides across a crisp shuffle with tinkling piano and bluesy guitar fills. I imagine Bejar, complete with his giant poof of hair, walking down the same cold Greenwich Village street captured in that Dylan album, quietly singing along to his companion in that tunefully nasally tone he uses so well on this track. The voice merits a Dylan comparison not because he specifically sounds like Dylan (he doesn’t to me at least) but because it may put some off initially. However, just like Dylan, Bejar knows how to use his vocal capacity – not to sing arias, but rather to open a valve and let his subconscious mind flow freely, tangling itself with these dense melodic threads. Usually, it’s these melodic knots that make Bejar’s songs so interesting, but here all of the threads braid together naturally. Where some of his other songs require some patience, “Your Blood” satisfies immediately. Sure, there are different sounds to appreciate each time (recently it’s the burst of guitar accompanying the “Tabitha takes another stab” line), but few of his songs are both immediately and continually gratifying.

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

February 22, 2010

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“Atlantic City (Gonna Make a Million Tonight)” – East River Pipe
(Words/music: F.M. Cornog, available on The Gasoline Age, Merge Records 1999)

I won’t try to rehash Fred Cornog’s journey from homeless junkie to reviled pop recluse because others have covered his biography better. You should go read the feature on Cornog from New York Magazine or the Allmusic entry for East River Pipe (or the recent Merge Records oral history Our Noise), because it’s difficult to separate the biography from the songs, specifically the idea of a guy making these weirdly charming songs with keyboards and drum machines in his bedroom.

The single element that stands out the most to me – more than the nine and a half minutes of running time (although the last minute is mostly just a sound collage), more than the hopefulness in Cornog’s voice – is the way the long keyboard notes and delayed guitar shine in the background like a fluorescent light. It ends up giving the song “soft lighting” as well – keeping the focus on the dream of becoming a millionaire rather than the impossibility of the feat. Eventually, I end up losing myself in the reverberations, as the delayed guitar decays into that strange hum of slot machines whirling. This is the point where Cornog’s dream fades into reality – one where (in my experience, anyway), casinos are far more depressing than those “Vegas, baby!” exclamations might make you think. For a long stretch of time tonight, every time the song hit the eight minute mark, I went back near the beginning and dropped the cursor, getting lost in that loop again for a few more minutes.

Then I thought of how its creator made this in his bedroom studio. At that point, I looked around at all the clutter in my bedroom, dropped the cursor back around the two minute mark, and closed my eyes in an attempt to fall back into the sound.

More on East River Pipe: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 17, 2010

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“100,000 Fireflies” – Superchunk
(Words/music: Stephin Merritt, available on Incidental Music 1991 – 95, Merge Records 1995)

I first knew “100,000 Fireflies” through the Superchunk version, and because my original copy of Incidental Music was on a CD-R, I didn’t know it wasn’t a Superchunk song. With a bit of hindsight and and much deeper love for Superchunk’s catalogue, it stands out from a bunch of their earlier songs. Lyrically it’s a little more dramatic than Mac McCaughan usually gets (I don’t think the phrase “I want to kill myself” appears in any of his songs). Their cover highlights a lot of the things I love about the early Superchunk, particularly their fusion of melody and mayhem without sacrificing either. It’s also more complex than the three chord pop-punk birthed at the end of the decade; the arrangement rises and falls in both volume and intensity.

There’s a certain justice to follow the “when I turn up the tone / on my electric guitar” lyric with electric guitars, and the energy Superchunk breathes into the song is infectious. McCaughan’s strained vocals, particularly in the post-chorus section, lean on the desperation in the lyrics. The guitar slows down and feels heavier as he pleads for another chance. Gradually, Jim Wilbur embellishes on the main riff, twisting it into a brief solo before the song ends.

In many ways, Superchunk gets right to the core of the song, bringing the urgency to the forefront with distorted guitars. Like the Magnetic Fields version (and more on them in the next post – give me a half hour or so), the Superchunk cover relies on crafting a specific mood. Their mood draws on the ones that run beneath the surface – ones I might not have gleaned just from the original version alone.

(Part 2 on the Magnetic Fields’ version can be read here)

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

January 20, 2010

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“Since K Got Over Me” – The Clientele
(Words: Alasdair MacLean, music: The Clientele, available on Strange Geometry, Merge Records 2005)

Follow my logic here: “Since K Got Over Me” borrows a bit of the melody from The Crystals’ “Then He Kissed Me,” a song I strongly associate with Goodfellas. Martin Scorsese used the song in the film’s famous single-take shot of Henry Hill and date entering the Copacabana through the service entrance. As the camera snakes through the kitchen to the front of the club’s room, the Phil Spector-produced track lends some of its giddiness to this very unique date. “Then He Kissed Me” helps to set the mood in this scene perfectly, from the liveliness of the club and the people working behind the scenes to the surreal feeling of the world bending to Hill’s whim.

The connection between “Then He Kissed Me” and “Since K Got Over Me” led me to start thinking about the kind of scene this song would soundtrack. Even if the production isn’t like Spector’s “Wall of Sound,” “Since K Got Over Me” relies on reverb to create atmosphere. In fact, the cleaner, more distinct instrumentation gives the song a woosy feeling to it. Alasdair MacLean’s vocals describe feeling out of sorts, so I’m inclined to think that my “Since K Got Over Me” scene would not be capturing a rise to power (like Henry Hill in Goodfellas) but rather someone hitting a snag. Perhaps, as homage to one of cinema’s more famous scenes, my character could go through the same sort of gauntlet that Hill follows through the unseen side of the Copacabana. Wherever he is – entering a club through the service entrance, taking the long way in to work, or whatever – he ends by pulling up his own chair alone, left to sort out the issues running through his brain. While Hill becomes the most powerful man in the room, I’d want this character to seem powerless, or at least restrained by these issues.

Anyway, that’s just my idea. What kind of scene would you soundtrack with “Since K Got Over Me?”

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

January 19, 2010

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“Jonathan Fisk” – Spoon
(Words/music: Britt Daniel, available on Kill the Moonlight, Merge Records 2002)

In the deluge of retrospectives over the past six months or so, I noticed a trend. A surprising (well, to me at least) number of people rated Spoon as one of their best (read: favorite) bands of the past decade. I don’t mean to knock Spoon – I like their records a lot and frequently refer other people to them. They just never struck me as a transcendently great band – one that would be in the second list of my favorite bands, and certainly not a band I would ever question someone for loving. I’ve always enjoyed their records, with “enjoyed” being the key word. They are a consistently good band even if I’ve never been head-over-heels enamored with them. This is precisely what put the band at the top of MetaCritic’s compendium – by their math, Spoon proved to be the most consistently excellent band of the past decade.

“Consistent” is a bit of a double-edged sword, and to be fair Spoon embodies the most positive qualities of this term. Even if the sound of each record shifts (and their new record Transference makes Spoon sound a little funkier and looser, at least from the couple of listens I’ve given it over the past few days), they thrive on this sense of sonic equilibrium. “Jonathan Fisk” does this through heavy repetition, both in the stomp of the drums and the heavy chording hand in the guitar. From the first note to the end of the song, the band locks into this moderate groove, leading Britt Daniel to sing rhythmically. Where many of Spoon’s contemporaries use jagged guitar riffs or polyrhythmic percussion, it’s Daniel’s vocals (and a brief burst of guitar at the end) that add a layer of rhythmic variation over the solid bed. Even if Spoon is opening up their groove (and I imagine that their current live sets will reflect this looseness), they could whip up a consistently tight track with the best of them. In that sense, it’s easy to see how so many could love a band that delivers so consistently.

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

January 13, 2010

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“Coast of Carolina” – Telekinesis
(Words/music: Michael Benjamin Lerner, available on Telekinesis!, Merge Records 2009)

“Woke up in another lifetime / It’s a shame that it’s just not right now” encapsulates the playfulness and light touch of surrealism. From the woozy acoustic opening (briefly poached by a Ford commercial late last year) to the keyboards echoing behind the lead vocals in the chorus, “Coast of Carolina” feels more like the hazy daydreams that happen between the time we wake up and the time we get out of bed. All of the things Michael Benjamin Lerner describes – from dreaming of the Carolina coast at the beginning to the visions of companionship in the final verse – feel like the kind of half-awake, half-asleep daydream that seem so vivid yet so fleeting.

It’s an intriguing perspective for a pop song, especially one that drives ahead in such a straightforward manner. Dreams in songs tend to be ambitions or desires. Lerner’s rely on the shards of images we string together when we wake up – vague visages of others, uncertain feelings, and hesitant memories. Even the timeframe in the opening line is vague – is he dreaming of the past or dreaming of the future? Regardless, Lerner captures the fluid nature of dreams – specifically the way the tone shifts quickly – and all of the associated emotions - specifically euphoria and uncertainty.

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

January 3, 2010

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“Crossed Wires” – Superchunk
(Words: Mac McCaughan, music: Superchunk, available on “Crossed Wires” single, Merge 2009)

I’ll keep this one brief, mainly because I already wrote about why I was so excited that Superchunk was recording again in 2009 and that I finally got to see them last summer as well. If these two moments were enough to reignite my nostalgia, “Crossed Wires,” the second Superchunk release last year (granted, their entire 2009 output would fit on Side A of a cassette if we still used those), sounds like a power-pop master class. It’s three and a half minutes of hooks – from the guitars, from Mac McCaughan, even the bass throws in a couple excellent melodic licks too. This forceful melody combined with a lively tempo makes “Crossed Wires” as immediately compelling and infectious as anything else in 2009.

On its own, “Crossed Wires” would be a great pop song, but the deeper parts of the track kept it in my rotation months later. Specifically, Jim Wilbur’s lead guitar spends the verses complimenting the melody in a subtle and unobtrusive way that it’s easy to miss out. While it takes a back seat to McCaughan’s double tracked vocals in the chorus, Wilbur’s lead lines bend notes, slide up and down the neck, and generally encase the vocals in the verse. He never wails in an overpowering way (and after seeing the band last summer, I’ll vouch that he could if he wanted to!), instead nimbly dancing between the vocals, the acoustic and electric rhythm guitar parts, and the rhythm section. Would it be a good song if a power trio tore through it? Yes, but it’s these extra touches that distinguish a Superchunk single from their imitators.

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

October 5, 2009

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“Sleep All Summer” – Crooked Fingers
(Words/music: Eric Bachmann, available on Dignity and Shame, Merge Records 2005)

Beautiful autumn days – ones warm enough to sit out on a porch all afternoon – make me think about the end of summer. Perhaps I’m a pessimist when it comes to the weather, but I always take these days as the last gasp of summer before winter takes hold. While some people see changing leaves as a pretty backdrop, each falling leaf means another day closer to digging out my car. To be fair, I’m not sitting around thinking about icy windshields on these days – if anything, the impending frost motivates me to get out of the house and enjoy the warmth before it’s a fading memory.

I share this anecdote because these are the things I hear in “Sleep All Summer.” 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 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.

More on Crooked Fingers: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 28, 2009

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“Your Fucking Sunny Day” – Lambchop
(Words/music: Kurt Wagner, available on Thriller, Merge Records 1997)

This is the last in my series of posts about bands on Merge Records (thank you for indulging me) and I planned on yesterday’s being the final one, but I need to write about the single best moment of my week in Chapel Hill. I anticipated that Superchunk would be awesome and they didn’t disappoint. However, I was not expecting the best set of the week to come from Lambchop, the musical project of former floorer Kurt Wagner. Until I started receiving the SCORE boxset earlier this year, I couldn’t name a single Lambchop song. I soon fell for “Your Fucking Sunny Day” on Phil Morrison’s mix, at first because of the title and then because of its strangely addictive melody. It’s a difficult song to pin down – it’s kind of funky, kind of orchestrated. The most compelling part of the song, for me, is the way Kurt Wagner sings it – holding out certain phrases, letting some notes sneak out as a yelp, and still staying faithful to the melody the entire time. In three and a half minutes, Wagner gave a sense that his personality ran deeper than the cursing in his song titles and the humor mentioned in every synopsis I read after listening to this song.

None of this, however, prepared me for what I saw last Friday night at Merge’s anniversary show. Wagner came on stage backed by ten musicians (which I’m told is half as many as accompanied him at the Merge 15th anniversary) and played a 40 minute set that left half of the crowd a dancing mess and the other half petrified in awe. I expected Wagner’s songs to shuffle from genre to genre, but I didn’t expect every different style to have such life and enthusiasm. The slow songs sounded gorgeous (and, when I could make out the words, melancholy and heartbreaking), and the lively songs swung like a jazz trio after weeks of rehearsals. Over a forty five minute set, Wagner and his band made us laugh, tugged at our heartstrings, and made jaws hit the floor. Appropriately, Lambchop garnered the loudest, most enthusiastic ovation to end their set of the week, with Wagner beaming beneath his thick frames and trucker hat. I’m convinced that the people in the audience had no clue what was coming when Lambchop was introduced. By the end of the set, Wagner leaped out of his seat when shouting out the lyrics to the Talking Heads’ “Once in a Lifetime,” seeming like a man speaking in tongues (and, appropriately, one-upping David Byrne’s evangelical preacher performance in the music video). It was a surreal moment that ended a memorable set – one that melted even the most cynical of hearts. I’ve been surprised by shows before and naively thought that it couldn’t happen again – not with the free flow of information and the ease of acquiring music on the internet. I was wrong, and went home ready to explore Wagner’s catalog. I’m excited to digest his albums and, perhaps, be surprised again. Still, I’m not sure any record can duplicate what I experienced in person last Friday.

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

July 27, 2009

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“This is Not a Test” - She & Him
(Words/music: Zooey Deschanel, available on Volume One, Merge Records 2008)

On Murmur, R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe sang the line, “not everyone can carry the weight of the world,” and this line popped into my head when trying to think about songs like “This is Not a Test.” Sometimes, we equate weightiness with quality – if it’s not deep, it’s not worth it, and there’s something to be said about art that works in layers and tackles difficult topics. This completely marginalizes music that’s breezy and fun – these types of songs aren’t meant to trigger an existential crisis, but instead these songs are designed with enjoyment in mind. We feel at ease when we hear a light hearted pop song, and it’s a way for us to connect emotionally to the things in our lives that make us happy – a vacation with a loved one, a childhood memory, etc. These songs reflect another part of the human existence that often escapes the critical eye, and even if it’s only fleeting, these songs lighten our spirits and brighten our days.

“This is Not a Test” reaches back to 1960s pop music and evokes the same kind of light-hearted mood in its listeners. The guitar chords are bright and cut right to the forefront, the backing vocals make it seem like a campfire sing-a-long, and the kazoo interlude shows how Deschanel and M. Ward aren’t taking themselves too seriously on this one. Deschanel’s voice suits this type of arrangement – she has a flimsy voice with a slight country inflection, but on a track like this she sounds sweet. Most importantly, Ward and Deschanel understand their purpose. They’re not out to make the lost Bob Dylan album from the ’60s – they’ve set out to make a throwback pop record. When she tries to tackle soul songs out of her league, Deschanel sounds overwhelmed on Volume One, but she sounds right at home when the mood lightens up.

While Ward and Deschanel understood their role on record, their live performance closing out the XX Merge anniversary festival missed the mark. Deschanel, who spent most of her time on stage bouncing like a five year-old and making painfully awkward stage banter, was backed (with a couple additions) by members of M. Ward’s band. The previous night, Ward and his band played a blistering set of his blues-folk hybrid, showcasing the musicianship of every member of his band. Unfortunately, they tried to play all of Deschanel’s songs the same way and Deschanel was unable to command the presence – either vocally or with her body language – appropriate for such a forceful performance. As a result, Deschanel sounded amateurish and skittish. While the album plays to her vocal strengths, the live performance exposed all of her weaknesses. Watching Ward’s band play these songs was like watching an elephant gun shoot out nerf balls, resulting in an underwhelming performance. Worst of all, the band attempted to turn “This is Not a Test” into a rollicking dance number. It sounded like a karaoke version of the song, completely drained of the spirit that makes it enjoyable on record. It was a rare disappointment in an otherwise impressive string of shows.

More on She and Him: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 26, 2009

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“Plenty is Never Enough” - Tenement Halls
(Words/music: Chris Lopez, available on Knitting Needles and Bicycle Bells, Merge Records 2005)

Moderation makes practical sense but far too often remains an ideal. We understand the concept of it intellectually at least, but it’s also hard to shake that base instinct that suggests that more of a good thing will be even better. The past few days at XX Merge have been an exercise in excess. I’ve felt inundated with great music yet feel like I’ve had too much of a good thing. I’ve seen a lot of excellent sets over the past four nights but can’t help feeling that I might have enjoyed some of the bands more if there weren’t as many of them. Some bands were excellent (Superchunk and Lambchop among others), but I found myself thinking on a few occasions that I might have enjoyed some of the other bands if it weren’t for seven hours of standing in a room being blasted with loud sounds night after night. It came to a point where I had to give up on some bands – either sitting down in the back room, wandering outside, or going home to get some rest – in order to have energy for the rest of the week.

Tenement Halls, the new band from the Rock*a*Teens’ Chris Lopez, became one of these casualties. They played an outdoor show in the 97 degree North Carolina heat that was in addition to the seven hours later that night. As much as I wanted to see them (and Portastatic), cooler heads prevaled. I couldn’t help but think about his song “Plenty is Never Enough” while mulling through the merits of a full day of music and fatigure or trying to enjoy just a few of the bands in the lineup. “Plenty is Never Enough” is an upbeat pop song draped in a curtain of reverb and slight delay. It’s peppy, bouncy, and a little blurry – the perfect musical metaphor for the week itself. I know I would have loved hearing this if it was a single night out where I could drain all of my energy bouncing along. Instead, it became a casualty in the quest to survive to the end. At a point, there can be too much of a good thing, and I’m glad XX Merge gave me the opportunity to fill up on great music – I’ve just realized the diference between filling up and consuming everything. I’m also glad tonight’s show has seats!

More on Tennement Halls: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 25, 2009

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“Everything Hits at Once” - Spoon
(Words/music: Britt Daniel, available on Girls Can Tell, Merge Records 2001)

More than any other band on Merge’s roster (and most bands in rock music right now), Spoon plays tight rock and roll. They grab hold of every melodic and rhythmic thread and pull them to their most taut, and just like a drum’s head stretched to its limit, interesting sounds develop right before the snapping point. Spoon’s songs never reach that breaking point, but these songs find their own funky reverberations even at their most precise extremes. Rather than sounding mechanical or soulless, their precise rhythms and studio tweaks infuse the song with an unlikely groove.

Even if they’re repetitive, it’s not repetition in the same way that trance music repeats phrases. “Everything Hits at Once” builds around a defined core. The guitars, keyboards, and drums establish a groove and keep returning to it over the course of the song. Meanwhile, the other elements of the song orbit around this center, periodically disappearing into the mix only to return again. Even Britt Daniel’s vocals work like this – rather than have a chorus as a celebratory refrain, Daniels’ repetition feels like a weary mind running through the same thought process. He promises that he can change his mind yet keeps returning to this one thought. Just like the music, Daniel feels trapped by the gravity of his situation. While it leads to paranoia for his protagonist, the listener enjoys a woosy groove and a catchy tune revolving around us.

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

July 24, 2009

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“Art Class (Song for Yayoi Kusama)” – Superchunk
(Words/music: Superchunk, available on Here’s to Shutting Up, Merge Records 2001)

It took about three minutes for word to spread upon walking into the Cat’s Cradle last night. “Superchunk is closing tonight,” and with that a sudden burst of unexpected energy rode through my body. The rush of being hours away from seeing the band (I would have put good money on them playing on Saturday night) made everything a little sharper, even when sitting down with a beer. The Broken West’s power pop, Richard Buckner’s guitar explorations, Guv’ner’s muted trumpet, Versus’ heavy pop, and the 3Ds fuzzy melodies all helped build the anticipation for Merge’s flagship band. Superchunk came on at quarter of one but it might as well have felt like the middle of the afternoon.

Superchunk blew through a set of old favorites - “Precision Auto,” “Detroit Has a Skyline,” “Driveway to Driveway,” etc – and new singles “Crossed Wires” and “Learned to Surf” and sounded equally as ebbulent and muscular as in their heyday. Not surprisingly, nothing from Here’s to Shutting Up showed up in the setlist (although the keyboard was out for “Watery Hands”), widely considered Superchunk’s “mellow” album. It’s a shame, because some of that album’s best songs would have fit in well in the middle of the set. The upper-mid tempo “Art Class” would have dialed the energy back only half a notch and provided a perfect “why so serious” sing along in the crowd. In addition to fitting in with the rest of the setlist’s melodic assault, “Art Class” captures the spirit of the entire week-long celebration. “Life is the art that you make,” sings McCaughan as his band plays with the same intensity they’ve exhibited over the past two decades. Much has been said and written about Merge’s continued success and the role of a label run by musicians and fans, but Superchunk proved last night that they are far away from hanging up their guitars and solely concentrating on the label (I hope). If nothing else, they have plenty more art to make, and plenty more nights to make us pogo along.

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

July 23, 2009

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“Born on a Train” - The Magnetic Fields
(Words/music: Stephin Meritt, available on The Charm of the Highway Strip, Merge Records 1994)

Night one of XX Merge was a night largely built around intimacy. Ranging from Lou Barlow’s solo performance to the small choir of voices Oakley Hall assembled in their band to the Rosebuds’ coaxing of the crowd to accompany them, this opening night put “small” songs into the spotlight. Looking back, this was the perfect night for the Magnetic Fields’ performance as a quintet of strings, piano, and voice. In the past, some of Stephin Meritt’s aesthetic choices in his arrangements prevented me from delving deeper into his catalog. Sometimes, the synthesizers and drum machines work well, but often I find that they mask Meritt’s beautiful songs. Last night, Meritt and vocalists Claudia Gonson and Shirley Simms took center stage, letting Merritt’s eye for beauty and wry sense of humor shine in the spotlight. The crowd in the front of the Cat’s Cradle played right into their hands, laughing at the humor in “California Girls” and “Yeah, Oh Yeah,” and Meritt even smirked delivering the lines about living in a dive bar in “Papa Was a Rodeo.” Last night, the songs sounded like the precious creatures Meritt sculpted (the same ones that are sometimes hard to find underneath the synthesizers). In this setting, the songs felt fragile, beautiful, lonely, and heartbreaking – often in rapid succession and often simultaneously.

“Born on a Train,” a song that wasn’t performed last night, is one song that works with its electronic arrangements. Like most of Meritt’s best compositions, “Born on a Train” paints loneliness in a melancholy light, comparing emotional disconnect with the restlessness of perpetual travel. Musically, the song kind of feels like traveling on a train with the persistent percussion and the fast moving sounds around it. In this case, the synthesized sounds help make it sound like a chamber-pop composition. However, the synthesized sounds combined with the real strings give it a woosy, daydream feel. In this state, it’s hard to imagine what’s real and what’s a dream. It gives the narrative an interesting bend – does the narrator feel heartbroken or does he truly accept his wayward state? Then again, it could all be a dream – the narrator may be dreaming of having to leave a lover he’s never met as he’s roaming down another nighttime road that looks the same as all the others. If that’s the case, it’s an even more heartbreaking story of someone so lonely that they dream up people to miss.

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

July 22, 2009

Some Songs Considered at XX Merge

I’m in my hotel room in (very warm) Chapel Hill, NC ready to head over to the first night of Merge Records’ 20th anniversary celebration. I’m super excited for five days of music and music fans. I’ve been blogging about Merge Records bands all week (Conor Oberst, Neutral Milk Hotel, and the 3Ds so far this week in addition to Destroyer, Portastatic, Arcade Fire, Camera Obscura, The Shout Out Louds and a Superchunk “More Songs Considered” post) and will continue to write about Merge bands and my experiences here through the rest of the week.

If you’re in Chapel Hill and attending XX Merge too please come say hi! The best way would be to follow my personal account on Twitter @bwall05 and send me a direct message. I’m looking forward to meeting some awesome people at these shows and it would be cool to meet you too!

So if a post goes up a little late (or, to be more accurate - really early before going to the Cat’s Cradle), please forgive me.

TAGGED UNDER: merge records | xx merge |

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