March Mixtape

Highlighting the songs I've discovered, rediscovered, or repeatedly played each month. The order reflects an attempt to create a cohesive mixtape, not to rank the songs in any way.

1. The Velvet Underground - "I'm Sticking with You." I've been on a Velvet Underground kick lately, and though I've heard this song before from Juno, it caught my ear this month.  In retrospect, it's the perfect track for that film, not only because it sounds super indie but also because Moe Tucker's off-kilter and unadorned vocals recall the film's eccentric and forthright heroine.  Moreover, as unconventional as "Sticking" begins, with Tucker's voice flatlining over circus-y pianos, it transforms itself into both a nostalgic and modern sounding love song: the stacatto guitar and "oh ohs" recall the hooks of the Beatles at the tail end of their career, while the fluid, chimey guitar plays like contemporary alt/indie-rock.  Yet there's one disturbing ambiguity that darkens an ostensibly straightforward song: after a few innocuous lines, Tucker sings, "Saw you hanging from a tree / And I made believe it was me."  As childlike as the language seems ("I made believe"), this potentially violent imagery--hanging by his feet or neck?--disturbs the simplicity of "Sticking" and calls larger issues into question:  is this a song about love or loss?  A lover's unconditional affection or a stalker's unwavering obsession?

2. Vampire Weekend - "Diane Young."  When I first heard "Diane Young," I didn't know what to think.  I was confused and consequently disappointed; the song sounded convoluted and frenetic, like the tape to "California English" was chopped and haphazardly reassembled.  But then I listened again, and again, using it first as jogging music, then as homework music, and then as everywhere and nowhere music.  I played it and started dancing around the house like a madman, demanding that my mom dance with me during one of its many breakdowns.  (She did, sort of).  Lyrically, Diane Young (the person) represents a voice of reason to an obstinate and reckless Saab burner who's living life "too fast." Naturally, then, "Diane Young" shouldn't sound composed, neatly structured, or even immediately coherent; we're moving headlong with whoever's risking "dying young," speeding past flickering synths only to break abruptly and then start back up again.  The song's frantic pace feels like a drag race, and while that's fun to experience vicariously, we're admonished not to live so carelessly.

3. Vampire Weekend - "Step."  Wow.  This song is dazzling.  Its icy synths recall the best moments of Contra, playing like the gentler cousin of the flawless "Giving Up the Gun."  Only whereas Ezra Koenig sung over the drums on "Gun," here his voice bounces with the song's hip-hoppy beat, his delivery paced to stress "Step"'s obscure, witty, and often comical lyrics.  "I just ignored all the tales of a past life / Stale conversation deserves but a bread knife," Koenig deadpans.  Between the thumping verses is a gorgeous chorus, featuring twinkling keys and echoing vocals, the highlight of the song and, frankly, 2013 thus far. For such a magical musical moment, though, the chorus offers unexpectedly, if not disappointingly, quotidian lyrics, "The gloves are off / The wisdom teeth are out / What you on about?"  But any disappointment fades in the chorus' last line, when Koenig repeats in an almost childlike plea, "I can't do it alone."  This universal statement imbues the song's minutia with charm and mystique, providing a subtle payoff where the listener feels him/herself reshaping and enriching the meaning of the obscure words.  This is key for a song that sonically doesn't build up so much as it does gracefully wind down, and it keeps me returning for another listen.

4. Phosphorescent - "Song for Zula."  Combine Kurt Vile-esque vocals with drum beats and strings and you have a recipe for success -- or complete disaster.  Here it works really, really well. The shaky, fragile vocals are gradually propped up by swelling synths, culminating with the speaker's indignant proclamation:

All that I know is love as a caging thing,
Just a killer come to call from some awful dream.
And all you folks, you come to see;
You just to stand there in the glass looking at me.
But my heart is wild, and my bones are steel,
And I could kill you with my bare hands if I was free.

5. The Cure - "Pictures of You." In mixing Robert Smith's emotive vocals over dreamlike soundscapes and shimmering chimes, "Pictures" fixes itself between the material and supernatural and worlds, inviting its listener on a 7+ minute escapist journey.  This thrilling, even transcendent, listen momentarily pauses midway through, but the drums reawaken the guitars and vocals with a one-two strike.  It's a brief moment in a long song, yet it's my favorite, something I eagerly await each time.  I find myself begging for bigger reverb--the cheesiest, Phil Collins-y kind of stuff possible (I hate myself for wishing this, let alone admitting it)--and often pretend that I'm hearing it as I jam on my steering wheel.  "Pictures" is such an engrossing listen that it makes this bizarre, maybe uncharacteristic transformation possible; it's so easy to get lost in its undulating guitars and Smith's commanding vocals that no one should be allowed to drive while listening to this album.  Example #1: I knew I had to take the exit for Rt 17 because the Turnpike was closed one Friday afternoon, but, because of "Pictures," I happily drove right past it while screaming some of the song's wonderful lyrics:

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real.
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are all I can feel.

6. Built to Spill - "Reasons."  I love listening to the early works of great bands, hearing their inchoate (often juvenile) style and paying close attention for glimpses of brilliance.  I think that's why I like Brand New's Your Favorite Weapon so much-- though "The No Seatbelt Song" is a whole lot more than a glimpse of brilliance.  BTS's "Reasons" is from the group's second album There's Nothing Wrong with Love, which is excellent in its own right, but a very different record than the more experimental Perfect from Now On and Keep It Like a Secret.  Midway through, the group's masterful guitar skills shine, as the guitars wind down into near silence until gentle pluckings delicately build them back up.  It reminds me of early Smashing Pumpkins, actually, which wouldn't be a stretch since the Pumpkins had come out with Gish only three years earlier.  It's an epic yet somehow still subtle moment that embodies the style of the group's two masterworks: technical and swift guitarwork without any showmanship.  I also really like the way "Reasons" starts; it's endearing how the vocals sound a little flat and out of place.  This isn't overly refined sugar pop, but something, for all its catchiness, that sounds sincere and deeply important.  By the end of the song, Martsch's throaty vocals are jagged and raw, but this just adds to the charm for me: "Reasons" is perfected by its imperfections.

7. Grouper - "We've All Gone to Sleep."  There are some nights of late-night writing where I only want to listen to this song, which washes away external noises (listen as the police sirens fade in the opening seconds) for ghostlike whispers and Liz Harris's prominent guitar strums.  As its title and calming description suggests, "Sleep" can prepare its listeners for rest, but the song also has an unsettling heaviness to it that can fill listeners with dread.  As such, "Sleep" elicits powerful feelings that prove difficult to reconcile; on the one hand, it's a soothing lullaby, yet on the other it's an acceptance, even a welcoming, of death.  As a listener, you're dangling uneasily between rest and relaxation and a heavy sense of foreboding, but ultimately the song teeters more towards the latter, as the album ends with a cassette reel spinning erratically.  If "Sleep" begins to console listeners about death and the end of all things (including its own album), it ultimately finds a limit in its consolation as it confronts its own mortality.

Closing out 2011

Other 2011 notables not covered in my Top Albums list:

Most Pleasant Surprise: Clams Casino - Instrumental Mixtape.  I read about Clams Casino while procrastinating in Barnes and Noble with Wei in late November, right around the time when I had to start writing three seminar papers (aka when I was on the verge of a mental breakdown).  Call it divine intervention that I found this mixtape/album then; I needed lots of new music to help me get through that month of hell, and this collection of ruminative, instrumental hip-hop beats (or more like soundscapes) really did the trick.  It works well as background music, and it surely operated as such during many 3 AM writing sessions.  But it has more depth than most pretty/haunting ambient noise, and it makes for a challenging listen: it's hard not to get lost in the shimmering waves of shoegazey sound to try and figure out the meanings behind the songs.

Biggest Disappointment: Drake - Take Care.  What. A. Mess.  After hearing b-sides from the Take Care sessions, and the excellent collab "I'm On One," I thought Drake was going to produce the best album of the year.  Instead, Drake offered a choppy, disparate, occasionally blush-worthy, and most of all inconsistent follow-up to 2010's Thank Me Later.  Here's a brief overview of the album: it begins much like Thank Me Later with a beautiful opening R&B track accompanied with female vocals, followed by the slow, reverby vocals contrasted with quick raps on "Shot for Me." Everything seems promising until Drake speaks, "May your neighbors accept you, trouble neglect you, angels protect you, and heaven accept you."  What the hell is that?  It sounds like he read this off a Hallmark card.  I blush every time I hear this; the sheer awkwardness of it actually makes my stomach turn.  But anyway, the above-average singles "Headlines," "Take Care," and "Marvin's Room" follow, along with the less ubiquitous "Crew Love," which is undoubtedly the best song on the album.  Drake and The Weeknd have a strong rapport and should definitely pursue this in the future.

So 6 songs are great, minus one little blemish.  But then something happens.  There's the intensely narcissistic interlude after "Marvin's Room," where a no-name rapper--who's pretty good, actually--talks about Drake for 2 minutes.  The Interlude really separates the fruit from the chaff: "Underground Kings" follows with its interestingly dark, guitar-looped instrumental, but Drake's nasally vocals on the chorus make the song sound more awkward than urgent.  Birdman absolutely ruins an otherwise decent "We'll Be Fine" with his nonsensical chatter that closes the track. "Lord Knows" has the most overblown beat and one of the most embarrassing rhymes I've heard in a long time: "I'm hearing all of the jokes, I know that they trying to push me / I know that showing emotion don't ever mean I'm a p****." I can't listen beyond that.  The sob-fest "Doing It Wrong" wallows in its platitudes, "we live in a generation of not falling in love / and not being together," and features a painfully out of place  harmonica solo from Stevie Wonder.  Lil Wayne continues his awful 2011 with two terrible collaborations, "The Real Her" and the otherwise great "HYFR."  Read the lyrics to his verses if you need convincing.  His delivery is just as awful.

By the 14th song, the incredibly personal "Look What You Done," I no longer care about Drake's life.  At this point I feel like a psychiatrist whose 60 minute session is up, but Drake won't stop emoting, especially on this 5 minute snoozer.  "Practice" takes the famous Juvenile beat from "Back that Ass Up," simply because it can?  This album has grand ambitions; it wants to have legendary rappers (Andre 3k, Lil Wayne), up-and-coming stars (Jamie XX, Nicki Minaj, Rick Ross, The Weeknd), and big-name cameos (Stevie Wonder, Rihanna), while instrumentally it wants arena-sized beats next to intimate confessions.  It sounds like Drake had aspirations of challenging Kanye's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, but Take Care, though similar in length, drags for something like 40 of its 79 minutes.  While Kanye's songs flowed and unfolded beautifully, Drake's seem deliberately extended; sometimes two totally different songs are even slapped together into one.  There are several great moments on this album; if it had been cut in half, it could've been special.  But Drake's narcissism, which brought him so much success, ruins him here.  Well, for me.  Everyone else seemed to love this album.

Oh, I really enjoyed "Cameras" and "Make Me Proud," but they're unfortunately overshadowed by all the bad.

Artist I Just Don't Understand: Childish Gambino.  Why do people like him again?  I find nothing redeeming.  This review by Ian Cohen pretty much encapsulates all my feelings: http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/16074-camp/?utm_campaign=search&utm_medium=site&utm_source=search-ac

Favorite Pop Song: "Give Me Everything."  Pitbull might be the least talented person on the universe (he's got the vocal prowess of Childish Gambino), but I found/still find this song unbelievably catchy.  It's musically trite and lyrically demeaning, misogynistic, and short-sighted, but hey, that's the nature of the pop industry.  (Yes, I'm aware of the hypocrisy of placing this entry below my Childish Gambino criticism.  Sue me.)

Impressive Comeback: Death Cab for Cutie - Codes and Keys.  After a terrible album and EP, I gave up on you, Ben Gibbard.  But Codes and Keys proved that DCFC has a lot left to offer, after all.  I hear Postal Service and Arcade Fire influences here, but also some hip-hop ("St. Peter's Cathedral") and prog ("Doors Unlocked and Open," "Unobstructed Views,").  I never thought I'd connect prog and hip-hop with Death Cab, but it actually works.  This album is catchy, dark, and, frankly, just interesting: I actually want to "decode" Ben's lyrics again, especially in light of his recent divorce--which makes songs like "Unobstructed Views" so interesting.  It's awfully dark for a love song.  Or "Some Boys," which is strangely poppy for a self-deprecating song that broadcasts Ben's emotional deficiencies.  It sounds like he's apologizing, or offering a reason as some sort of closure, but he wants to disguise his anxieties through catchy melodies and distorted vocals.  I hope Narrow Stairs was just a bump in the road and DCFC can produce more albums like this.  Even if they can't, if they can churn out pop songs half as catchy as "You Are a Tourist" (sans the stupid 'if there's burning in your heart line' -- just take a Tums!), then I'll be happy.  Welcome back, Death Cab!  And thanks for bringing this to my attention, Annie!

Best Discoveries: The Velvet Underground, especially "Heroin," "Sunday Morning," "Pale Blue Eyes," "Here She Comes Now," "Candy Says," and "After Hours."  "Heroin" might be my all-time favorite "classic-rock" song now.  I think it's brilliant and have been trying to write a post on it since August.  But I have thoroughly enjoyed almost everything I've heard from their 60's albums and now genuinely respect the extremely under-appreciated Lou Reed.

The XX.

The Replacements - Let It Be.  After hearing a snippet of "Unsatisfied" from Adventureland, I knew I needed to hear this song.  I found the whole album and have not stopped listening to it since.  It's punky, emotional, weird, and fun.  It looks and sounds like the 80s, and makes me (almost) proud to be an 80s kid.  "Unsatisfied" is definitely one of my favorite songs of the year.

The Pixies.  I had the pleasure of seeing these guys when my Aunt Tara asked/begged me to go with her to the Welmont Theatre.  My aunt has an awesome taste in music, so I took her advice, even though I never really enjoyed the Pixies before.  Well, the concert was amazing and really sold me on the band.  I was really into Surfer Rosa for awhile, but lately I cannot stop listening to Doolittle, an album that's almost impossible to categorize: it's poppy yet abrasive, raw yet in many ways refined, fun yet morbid.  Whatever, though.  It's a great album, beginning with the energetic "Debaser," which pumps me up like few others, and the feral "Tame," a song that sounds like what dozens of post-punk bands have aspired but failed to create.

Best Concert: Explosions in the Sky, with the opener The Antlers.  I think.  I went to a bunch of shows, but I remember this one leaving me giddy.  Plus I got to take my brother, so it was special to see him enjoying the awesomeness that is EITS--especially since they played "The Moon Is Down" with the tambourine solo.

There were other great ones, though: Kevin Devine (as always), The Pixies, Bright Eyes, Lil Wayne, Two Door Cinema Club, Matt & Kim, Japandroids, Deftones, Glassjaw, Clutch.  That's what I can remember off the top of my head.  Seeing SSLYBY at SHU was pretty sweet, too.

Great year of music.  I probably omitted a lot, so here's to being more productive in 2012!