Category Archives: A Breath, This Song

Hum, “Downward is Heavenward”

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…and we are not alone.

In February 1998, I was living with my parents, working two jobs, and attending community college in southeast Kansas. The nearest “real” cities with anything to do were two hours away (pick a cardinal direction and you’ll hit one). Music was my escape. Downward is Heavenward was one of my favorite “escapist” albums.

Flashback three years earlier. I had my first run in with Hum at an amusement park in Kansas City called Worlds of Fun. Lawrence, Kansas’ radio station Lazer 105.9 put on an all day long concert with both local bands and up-and-coming national acts. RCA had just released Hum’s major label debut (You’d Prefer an Astronaut) and “Stars” was set to go supernova (note to self – way to work that in there). It was the intellectual and romantic-in-the-classic-sense-of-the-word lyrics married to loud dropped-D chugging that was unlike anything my teenage ears had heard. It wasn’t your run-of-the-mill 90s rock. It wasn’t self-apathetic grunge, it wasn’t overtly boyfriend/girlfriend music (although it was, hidden in metaphor and scientific terminology).

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Au Revoir Simone, “Stars” & Sun Kil Moon, “Ocean Breathes Salty”

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Just as there are seasons for the songs that I know, there are moments when the weather, or the light, or the time, or the air just won’t allow my senses to choose what’s appropriate. In these moments, I tend to go rummaging about through the depths of my archive for “forgotten” bits, or, as is more often the case, I wander about the Internet in search of fresh ideas. The former can lead to serendipitous finds like The Mountain Goats while the latter can result in exciting things like Au Revoir Simone’s “Stars.” It can also lead to a fair bit of embarrassment, as, these days, I’m often the last guy to discover anything. If music is a continent – let’s say North America – then most of my friends are Leif Erikson, while I, regrettably, am Miles Standish (proud). What can you do?

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The Mountain Goats, “Love Love Love”

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and way out in seattle, young kurt cobain
snuck out to the greenhouse, put a bullet in his brain.
snakes in the grass beneath our feet, rain in the clouds above,
some moments last forever, but some flare up with love love love.

This past April, I had planned to write an entry on R.E.M.’s “Let Me In.” Obviously, I didn’t. Not for any good reason, it’s just that the words never seemed to come out right. It was like trying to explain what it felt like to stand inside a hurricane, watching the sky turn dead-television grey. I can do that in a sentence (and you have proof, presuming your short-term memory works all right), but it doesn’t ever seem to match the original, emotional connotation. So, no entry came. I can tell you, right now, that this entry is going to do a whole lot more than what it says on the tin. In fact, it’s probably going to be two entries. But seeing as it’s the Mountain Goats track that brought everything to a head, I’ll let it rule the subject line. Goats are probably use to lofty places, anyway – especially mountain goats – and I’d hate to tinker with nature.

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R.E.M., “Wendell Gee”

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There wasn’t even time to say
Goodbye to Wendell Gee
So Whistle as the wind blows…
Whistle as the wind blows…
With me.

Closing R.E.M.’s “Fables of the Reconstruction” album, “Wendell Gee” is one of those perfect examples of what Michael Stipe and Co. do so very well that is, reify the mundane into these revelatory narratives that pull meaning from your subconscious mind. (Sounds simple, right?) Last night, I had a series of nightmares. Only, I wasn’t quite asleep. The crux of it is that when I think about everything that’s happened with my dad, and how I lost him, I feel horribly derelict for not being there for him in his final moments. “After everything he gave me in life,” I think, “how could I not have given him the comfort of knowing he wasn’t alone?” And, of course, I had no idea. It was a perfectly normal day a little rainy, a little cold but nothing terrifying. Typical November in New England, and, as such, I was typically lost in my little life.

Still, it’s irrational to the extreme, but it feels like a complete shirking of the single-most important thing I could have ever done for my dad.

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Emili­ana Torrini, “Heartstopper”

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b0002jep6o02_scmzzzzzzz_.jpgOutside your house
To make a scene
In my head you grabbed me passionately
But the lights are out
And in an hour I walk on home
In the pouring shower

 

 

A couple of years ago, Lucy told me about Last.fm. Like most interesting things, I went to have a look, but never really made my way to being a full user. The idea intrigued me, but I had a pretty steady supply of new music from “other sources.” Things have changed, however, and I’ve been revisiting the site. Most of the time, when I’m feeling like my life has gotten into a bit of a rut, a great new album will pull me out. Or, indeed, a great old album. These tend to be seasonal, but they almost always do the trick. And that’s where I’m at with “Fisherman’s Woman” by Emilíana Torrini.

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