Saturday, February 13, 2010
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
- "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" I strongly dislike when versions of this song add two beats between the lyrics "Emmanuel" and "shall come to thee..." because it breaks the thought in half. This version does that, but it breaks between every half-thought so I don't mind it. When I sing along I am allowed time to meditate between every phrase instead of just that one. Plus, there's a lot of banjo :)
- "We're Going to the Country!" It's true that the singing gets annoying, but the banjo is just too beautiful to resist.
- "Only at Christmas Time" Melancholy melody, but worshipful words. Short and lovely.
- "That Was the Worst Christmas Ever" This song is beautiful and sad. Although there's no proof, I think it's related to "The Mistress Witch from McClure," where Sufjan and his siblings discover their father is having an affair. This lyric lingers: "Silent night, nothing feels right..."
- "All the King's Horns" A song about the purpose of Christ's coming, which gives us reason to celebrate and worship. It takes us from his birth to his resurrection.
- "The Friendly Beasts" A grown-up version of a song that seems best suited for children.
- "Away in a Manger" I love the pleas with Jesus to stay and love us.
- "Did I Make You Cry on Christmas? (Well, You Deserved It!)" A song about a complicated relationship...
- "Joy to the World" I love the lyrics to this hymn, and this is a great arrangement with beautiful harmony.
- "Christmas in July" Fun in 5/4 time.
- "Holy, Holy, Holy" Such a beautiful and theologically rich hymn, with the added bonus of major 7 chords and the iii chord.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Sunday, October 4, 2009
“My Boys” by Taken by Trees
There are certain rules music has to follow in order for me even to consider it. The biggest four are:
- instruments and voices must be in tune
- no parallel perfect intervals
- when people are singing together (homophonically), they must cut-off together
- correct grammar
#1 is the downfall of a certain friends’ EP I shan’t name. #2 is why I find Snow Patrol insufferable, even though I desperately want to be in favor of the Northern Irish band (I can think of a thousand better harmony lines for “Chasing Cars,” don’t even get me started). #3 is Maria Taylor’s demise, and #4 is a stumbling block to countless. However, every once in a while an artist comes along who breaks some or all of the rules, but does so in a clever and knowing way, and I can’t get enough. Sufjan Stevens is the best example. I remember thinking, when I first heard Stevens, “He’s breaking all the rules; you should choose to hate this music; compromise is self-betrayal,” but I couldn’t ignore the fact that I didn’t hate the music: I actually enjoyed it so much that I craved more. It kept me guessing. And now, after detailed study of some of Stevens’ songs, I can just tell (…or foolishly hope?) that he knows the rules and is breaking them on purpose.
I’m not sure if Taken by Trees’ Victoria Bergsman knows she’s breaking my rules or not, but somehow I find the missteps in “My Boys” (a cover of Animal Collective’s “My Girls”) endlessly charming. The instruments are out of tune, she calls social status a “material thing” (although I suppose that’s [sic] from Panda Bear), and the whole song is about wanting a modest home not for her children but for her nonexistent husband and, get this, cat. Despite all the red flags, I keep pressing the “play” button. And despite the absurdity of a Swedish singer turning an American experimental song into a south-Asian folk song, it reeks of authenticity. The video of Bergsman walking a tightrope is, similarly, surprisingly winsome. The rest of the album is convivial as well, but this track stands out to me, probably because it’s a cover that succeeded in a way that Sun Kil Moon’s “Tiny Cities” didn’t, and I thought Mark Kozelek’s idea of transforming decidedly non-folk music to my favorite genre was, though poorly executed, promising.
Also, I love the name “Taken by Trees.” In a world where the best musicians are actually choosing to call themselves atrocities like “Horse Feathers” or “St. Vincent” or “Death Cab for Cutie,” Bergsman’s moniker choice is refreshing.
Friday, October 2, 2009
I started this blog with high hopes which soon fell flat. I think my problem was that I turned every potential post into a big deal mentally. My new resolve is just to write whatever because no one reads it anyway. So here’s what’s been going on in my musical world lately.
“Hospice” by the Antlers
This borderline ambient album took a lot of work, but it was well worth it. It’s a concept album about a man who works at a hospital, falls in love with a bone cancer patient, marries her, and then watches her die. The brilliantly tragic lyrics make the album. Instead of the narrator looking back on his wife with fondness, love, and happy memories, he refrains from retrospective romanticizing and realistically remembers her angry abuse. He recounts her screaming, cursing, telephone-throwing, and daily threats to leave him. Her disease makes her so angry and desperate she even attempts a Sylvia Plath suicide. The thing I love the most about the album is its complete lack of redemption. (Since I believe there’s no meaningful redemption outside of Christ, I was so happy this cancer story didn’t come with some pithy moral like “carpe diem because life is short.”) The story is so compelling that I’ve sat and silently read the liner notes, which have all the lyrics and minimal explanation, two or three times. It’s definitely an album to listen to from start to finish, but if you only have the time or emotional appetite for a song or two, choose “Bear” or “Two.” I was pleased to be able to add “Epilogue” to my mental catalogue of songs about fever dreams since about every six weeks I get the itch to listen to one. (If anyone knows of other fever dream songs please let me know because the only other song in my “catalogue” is Aimee Mann’s “Nightmare Girl…”)
“11th Dimension” by Julian Casablancas
Despite its noticeable lack of banjo, I dig it. The opening sound is endearingly hokey, like a much-improved version of a demo track on my first miniature electronic keyboard. It reminds me of high school when I first heard Phoenix (and, of course, the Strokes). I’m looking forward to the album.
“Lost Coastlines” by Okkervil River
“Unless it’s Kicks” by Okkervil River
After listening to these two tracks intermittently for several months, I have finally jumped on the Okkervil River train, albeit late. At first I couldn’t get past the similarities between the “Lost Coastlines” bass line and the main theme in the Decemberist’s “the Sporting Life,” but the former track has finally carved out its very own mental space in my head. These two Okkervil River tracks (along with “the Sporting Life” and pretty much the entire Belle and Sebastian oeuvre) motivate me to keep running, literally.
“Complicated” by Keegan DeWitt
I fell in love with DeWitt’s music after hearing his Daytrotter session a couple of weeks ago. “Complicated” is lyrically a simple love song, but musically it has underpinnings of regret and sadness, even nostalgia. This song took me to an emotional space I last visited around age ten when I sat on the floor of my family’s living room listening to Sting’s “Fields of Gold” on repeat. It’s rare to catch such power in a three-minute ditty.
Unrelated…I just caught the newer, hipper Snuggie commercial complete with slap-bass and lame out-of-touch middle-aged parents “dancing.” Snuggies now come in animal print.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Artist: Fleet Foxes
Album: Fleet Foxes
Label: Sub Pop
Release date: 3 June 2008
Genre: baroque harmonic pop jam
Lyrical themes: wood nymphs, forestry, antique furniture, brotherhood
I keep finding myself coming back to this album. I enjoy weighty lyrics that I can’t actually relate to, and this album has that quality. He sings with bravado about ornithology and cornucopias. It’s off-the-wall enough for me not to worry about understanding every underpinning (my usual struggle) but not so out-there that I would call the entire album a wash in its absurdity. The words all sound good together, almost ethereal, but I feel no pressure to decipher the metaphor and glean a lesson.
Even though I genuinely enjoy the singer’s voice, sometimes his vowels are nearly unbearable. “In” is not a two-syllable word. And, to be frank, I find the vocal harmony insufferable. The harmony never fails to parallel the melody either a third above or a fourth below. I’m a firm believer in autonomously interesting harmony lines, but if it must be dependent on the melody, at least let it be a sixth below. The harmony on this album is not only boring and predictable, rivaling even people who try to harmonize to contemporary worship music, but it’s also pervasive and inescapable. However, even with all my criticism of the singing, I do appreciate that the band considered the voice another instrument to work with; this recent trend in indie music is refreshing.