Random Rules: 12/10/08

1. Broken Social Scene: “7/4 ((Shoreline))”

For a pretty steadfast consumer of “indie” music, I really took my sweet time coming around on BSS. Part of the problem is the inherent flaws of this age of digital music consumption; my first impressions of the collective were colored by the fact that I was trying to gauge whether or not I liked them based on 30-second soundclips, and while this is generally enough time to hear at least one verse, chorus, and a handful of hooks in the average Britney Spears single, regardless of at what point in the song the clip starts at, this model doesn’t really work for a more free-form group of musicians like BSS. So I finally took the opportunity to give whole songs a listen a little over a year ago after being pleasantly surprised by head BSS-er Kevin Drew’s solo album Spirit If… in my local record shop. While roughly 50-70% of the tracks on all BSS albums proper are still a little too meandering and amelodic for my tastes, they do have a handful of gems, including this one.

2. The Jesus & Mary Chain: “Walk And Crawl”

This track is one of the b-sides/rarities recently compiled on the box set The Power of Negative Thinking. Beyond that, there’s not much else to say; it’s a JaMC track. Lots of feedback, a simple, undeniable melody, and some vaguely sinister lyrics about drugs/sex/violence, buzzing by in under three minutes.

3. Wilco: “Pot Kettle Black”

A deep cut from their famously rejected Yankee Hotel Foxtrot album. It’s pretty straightforward, and relatively no-frills…could be justifiably mistaken for a Summerteeth b-side, but with less pristine production. Reminds me of The Cure’s “In-Between Days” for some reason.

4. Kaiser Chiefs: “Everyday I Love You Less and Less”

One of the two strongest tracks off debut disc Employment (the other being “I Predict a Riot”.) Big comparisons made between these guys and Blur when this album came out. I can definitely see the similarity, but this is 100% artifice (not that Blur were particularly “authentic”) and sounds like a deep cut off Parklife or The Great Escape; it’s inherently catchier than anything off of Modern Life is Rubbish, if only because Blur had grown more accomplished at their craft, but still not close to the level of an iconic track like “The Universal” or “Girls & Boys”. As much as I’d like to believe Kaiser Chiefs have a classic album, or even classic single in them, I just don’t feel like they do.

5. The Smiths: “Stretch Out and Wait”

A very flimsy, tossed-off b-side that somehow is still better than 99.999% of anything anyone else has ever produced in pop. It’s a lighthearted exhortation to forget one’s cares, because the end is nigh, but it’s presented in such a sprightly package that it’s hard not to want to hop in a hammock with a cup of tea and wait for the bomb to drop.

6. My Bloody Valentine: “When You Sleep”

Probably the most “accessible” track off of the epic Loveless album. Somewhere, in an alternate universe, this is held in the same regard as “I Want to Hold Your Hand”.

7. The Walkmen: “Long Time Ahead of Us”

This year’s You & Me album was a pleasant surprise. It’s a return to form after the flat and tuneless A Hundred Miles Off. There’s a lot of quaint romanticism on this album, perfectly reflected in the art that graces the sleeve, depicting the false innocence of a by-gone age that we all know was never innocent at all, but that we can’t help but feel wistfully nostalgic for.

8. Husker Du: “Everything Falls Apart”

As much as I love this (and many other) Husker Du songs, all I can hear usually is the lack of discernible low-end. These guys were post-punk White Stripes before the White Stripes even existed, but they actually had a bass player!

9. The Meeting Places: “Turned Over”

One of those perpetually unfashionable “nu-gaze” bands that never seems able to expand their fanbase beyond people waiting around for that Slowdive reunion that will never come. It’s dreamy pop, with lots of layered, effect-laden guitars, but you can actually tell what’s being sung!

10. The National: “Slow Show”

A great song from an album chock full of them. Every time I listen to these guys, all I seem to focus on is the drumming. It’s just so integral to the success of The National’s tunes, not merely setting the pace, but really coloring and adding depth to what are seemingly simple songs. And of course, Matt Berninger’s voice is up there in the phone book pantheon*.

*Meaning, I’d listen to him sing the phone book without complaint. Others include Richard Hawley, Evan Dando, Mark Lanegan.

My Drug Buddy-The Lemonheads

I kind of went nuts the other day when eMusic emailed me to beg me to “come back” by offering me 210 free downloads. I’m still kind of in shock, both in terms of processing all this new music, and by the fact that it only took me two days to use all of those up. I will eventually get to the cream of that crop. But I digress; this post is all about The Lemonheads, courtesy of the recently-reissued It’s A Shame About Ray.

I was kind of a latecomer to The Lemonheads phenomenon; the period between the initial re-release of …Ray (the one with their so-so cover of Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘Mrs. Robinson’ tacked onto the end) and the inevitable backlash following the release of its follow-up, Come On, Feel The Lemonheads lasted from 1992 through 1993. I came to the party in (I think) late ‘93 or early ‘94. Growing up in severely un-hip Northern Virginia, I was completely unaware that a) Ray was a massive hit among college students and b) singer/songwriter Evan Dando was on the outs with the indie/college-rock cognoscenti by the time I caught wind of them. All I knew was I kinda liked the ‘Mrs. Robinson’ cover, and absolutely adored ‘Into Your Arms’ and ‘Great Big No’ (Then still pretty big singles; I remember taping both off the radio late at night with my headphones on and all the lights out—back when radio actually played songs you’d want to tape.)

Anyway, the next time we trekked out to visit my grandmother, my mom and I stopped into the used book/CD store near grandma’s house, and I picked up Ray for around $6. And pretty much listened to it non-stop for two months. In a lot of ways, I kind of miss the innocence of those days. My nascent obsession with pop music was still exactly that; I didn’t voraciously “collect” music en masse the way I do now, and therefore was able to devote more of my obsessiveness to a much smaller selection of songs and albums (anyone remember ‘Rapture’ by Seed? God, I loved that song.) While I still find new pop songs to fall in love with, there’s such a visceral connection to the stuff I was into from 1992-1998 compared to my more detached and discriminating “palate” nowadays that whenever I hear one of those old songs, I find myself yearning for that same sort of feeling again. What’s worse is the subsequent realization that I never will.

Which brings me (yes, I know, finally) to ‘My Drug Buddy’. While I think I had a more immediate connection to ‘Confetti’ off of Ray, my strongest attachment was undoubtedly to ‘Buddy’. At the time, I didn’t really concern myself with the “drug” aspect of the song title or lyrics; I knew enough not to play it around my parents. But what really drew me to the song (superficially, at least) was the completely effortless melody and execution of the song. During this period, I was somewhat obsessed with songs like ‘My Drug Buddy’ and The Beatles’ ‘You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away’ because they sounded like they’d be relatively easy to play on the guitar, a skill I was desperate to pick up. But the more I listened to it, the more the lyrical sentiment seeped into my brain (or at least my interpretation of it.) In spite of the warm, friendly organ-and-acoustic guitar intro, Evan Dando’s delivery hints at a not-very-well-disguised melancholy over the platonic nature of his relationship with his drug buddy. As a romantically awkward and inept 13 year old, this spoke volumes to me. And God, those backing vocals by Juliana Hatfield. Oh, how I harbored such elaborate fantasies about engaging in similar activities (minus the drugs, of course) with *insert crush-of-the-week’s name here*. And it wasn’t just ‘My Drug Buddy’ that made me feel this way; it was the entire It’s A Shame About Ray album. In fact, pretty much every song I liked from 1992-1998 (and beyond) was tied up in my feelings of sexual/romantic frustration and yearning. It’s just that ‘My Drug Buddy’ was the first.

*Incidentally, Gary: According to the liner notes of the new reissue, the reason you were unable to find King Street while you were getting drunk (*ahem* “attending college”) in Boston is that Evan was actually singing about Sydney, Australia.