The demise of my beloved music-widget was not wholly in vain, though. Presented with 64 gigabytes of blank slate, I was forced to plumb the depths of my iTunes library for the first time in months. This was the digital equivalent of cleaning out Great-Uncle Bert's garage after he fell in the tub again. Some of the findings were delightfully surprising (three albums of Algerian folk-rap? OK!) while others made me question both my sanity and and sexual orientation (exhibit A: Tom Waits' 'Misery is the River of the World'; exhibit B: anything by Cat Power).
Being a musical packrat does have some advantages, but inevitably you wind up with a massive backlog of untouched material. In the heat of passion I have downloaded entire discographies that haven't been played once. There are 'Hangover'-like blank spaces in my memory during which I've acquired suspicious amounts of Daft Punk, the Kinks, and enough angst-filled indie pop to sustain a dozen wine-and-vinyl douchefests. Even my most beloved artists were apparently hiding quite a lot. For example, did you know that Bob Dylan has released approximately 837 albums since the Seventies, and that all of them sucked?*
*Sorry, Bob. 'Blood on the Tracks' is still in my top three all-time albums.
It bothered me that so much 'new music' was lurking in the bowels of my hard drive. And so the Great iTunes Experiment was born.
The premise was simple: turn on Shuffle and listen to the first ten songs that pop up. They'd have to be played in their entirety, and I'd have to devote my full attention to each one. As sacrifices in the name of science go, this wasn't quite Marie Curie purposefully dosing herself with radioactive goo, though most sane people would rather dunk their heads in a bucket of plutonium than listen to a 40-minute rendition of 'Dark Star'.
In any case, here are the results.
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| A laboratory of sorts. |
Song 1: 'Pigeon'
Artist: Tennis
Album: Cape Dory (2011)
Length: 3:02
What luck! Cape Dory is one of my favorite albums of all time - a collection of breezy, dreamy ocean-inspired jams tailor-made for the tropics. It also has one of the greatest backstories in recent memory. The short version: two of the band members, Alaina Moore (vocals) and Patrick Riley (guitar) saved for years to buy a sailboat. When they scrounged enough cash, they left Denver and sailed down the Atlantic coast, writing songs about the journey and finding enough time to get both shipwrecked and married. The end result sounds like the love-child of Brian Wilson and Stevie Nix - Moore is basically a younger, hotter, more talented incarnation of the onetime Fleetwood Mac vocalist. Her cascading, golden voice gives a regal beauty to the most simplistic lyrics: 'I will be there / Promise to take good care / Of you'. It's a song that makes you feel good. I'm grateful to the shuffle-gods for such a fortuitous start.
Song 2: 'Johnny B. Goode'
Artist: Chuck Berry
Album: Chuck Berry is on Top! (1958)
Length: 2:42
I have the sudden and inexplicable urge to start dancing on a barroom piano.
Chuck Berry is one of the original gods of rock 'n roll. As with most of the early (read: black) greats, his music has been endlessly covered and interpreted with mixed results. 'Johnny B. Goode' in particular has been covered by everyone from Alvin and the Chipmunks to the Ukelele Orchestra of Great Britain. There's no denying that the simple, bluesy rhythms and backwoods lyrics have an appeal that apparently transcends race, age, and geography. I firmly believe that we should be transmitting 'Johnny B. Goode' instead of mathematical equations to distant galaxies, if only to show potential extraterrestrials that people on Earth know how to get down.
Song 3: 'Dirty Dishes'
Artist: Deer Tick
Album: War Elephant (2007)
Length: 3:19
At this point it is about 1:30 in the afternoon, and the sun is absolutely merciless. I'm sipping on a 333, one of Saigon's favorite formaldehyde-enhanced beverages. I had also brought a C2, which is a lemon-flavored green tea, but this song is too damn sad for tea.
The vocals are croaking and the intro is catchy in that way that certain melancholy indie tunes are catchy. It's not long before I'm zoned out, remembering old loves and other mistakes, fully wallowing in the sadness unique to a 20-something who is certain that he has accomplished nothing in life, and afraid that it might be too late to start.
I have a vivid memory of sitting alone at a kitchen table and staring out a rainy window. I'm not sure if this is actually my memory, or a cultural imprint that I feel like I should have experienced at some point. Either way it's powerfully depressing, and I'm a little peeved at iTunes for bringing me down from my Berry-induced euphoria.
Which isn't entirely fair - Deer Tick is an enjoyable group with elegant Southern musicianship and gravelly harmonies that should appeal to people currently recovering from country music fandom. 'Dirty Dishes' just happened to come at the wrong time and place, like George McGovern or Crystal Pepsi.
Song 4: 'Up the Canyon'
Artist: String Cheese Incident
Album: Outside Inside (2001)
Length: 3:02
And the jam bands are on the board! The timing couldn't be better - happy, upbeat bluegrass to wash the taste of 'Dirty Dishes' out of my mouth. From the opening chords there's a feeling of joyous energy as guitars, fiddles, and accordions conjure images of bayou hoedowns with toothless, whiskey-swilling Cajuns.
It's worth mentioning that this song clocks in at a svelte three minutes. In the world of jam bands, this is absurdly short. Mickey Hart of the Grateful Dead had triangle solos that lasted longer than three minutes. Also, it suffers from the classic jam band malady - wonderful instruments, shitty vocals. However in this case, the sins of bland voices and 'meh' lyrics can be forgiven. The musicians are just that talented.
It's impossible to escape the feeling of flying down a backwoods two-lane highway with Colonel Sanders riding shotgun, clutching an XXX jug of moonshine in one hand and a six-shooter in the other while hollering at the top of his lungs. God bless you, Colonel Sanders.
Song 5: 'Ballad of Sir Frankie Crisp (Let it Roll)'
Artist: George Harrison
Album: All Things Must Pass (1970)
Length: 3:53
George Harrison is my favorite Beatle, and All Things Must Pass is my favorite solo album by one of the Fab Four (with apologies to John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band and a big middle finger to anything by Paul McCartney & the Wings).
The song has a faintly haunted, ephemeral sound which is fitting because apparently Harrison wrote it as a tribute to some old British lawyer who owned Harrison's Victorian Gothic estate back in the 19th century. It soon transitions into the swirling mysticism that defined Harrison's solo work and better Beatles' contributions. On the whole the tune is pleasant, unobtrusive, and forgettable.
Most of my attention at this point is devoted to choking down my second 333, which now has the temperature and consistency of used brake fluid. When I lean forward to check the time, the beige lounge chair is stained almost black with sweat. It looks like the tropical version of a snow angel. In short, Saigon is really hot.
Song 6: 'Just My Soul Responding'
Artist: Smokey Robinson and the Miracles
Album: Smokey (1973)
Length: 5:09
First Motown tune, and it couldn't be a better one. 'Just My Soul Responding' is a social commentary touching on everything from the Vietnam War to the U.S. government's shameful treatment of Native Americans to the deplorable conditions of black ghettos in the 70s. Aside from the bizarre "hey ya hey ya" pseudo-Iroquois chant around 1:10, it's a perfect Motown jam.
Dig these lyrics:
Oh, but more and more I mind
Hell, it's about time
It's just my soul responding
To being second class in a land I helped to form
Just my soul responding
To too many roaches and not enough heat
To keep my babies warm
Smokey always sounded like he was about two seconds away from whipping off his pants and humping a backup dancer - it's nice to see his energy (and incredible voice) directed at a loftier purpose.
I downloaded this album on a recommendation from a friend, then promptly forgot about it. The name 'Efterklang' conjured images of some avant-garde European EDM group with punk haircuts and permanently sour expressions. This was my first experience actually listening to their music.
Turns out my hypothesis was dead wrong. There is nothing remotely danceable about 'Maison De Reflexion' - it starts off with the tune and pace of a Danish funeral dirge. This was followed by some vaguely Gregorian chanting, some dramatic timpanis, and plenty of violin. For some reason, the violin usually makes me imagine scenes from Schindler's List or the sinking of the Titanic. The effect is interesting since the fiddle (which is basically the 'same-same but different' instrument) inspires the exact opposite moods.
'Maison De Reflexion' seems like it should be on the soundtrack of the latest Tolstoy novel to be butchered as a major motion picture. It has a unique and intriguing sound, but so does a cat when shoved into a woodchipper, and I can't say I really enjoy either.
'What Goes On' is one of many neglected songs on one of the Beatles' many neglected albums. Which seems odd to say of the world's most famously beloved rock bands, but it's true.
Having said that, it's easy to see why it's overlooked. The song has a bland, twangy chipper-ness that wouldn't be out of place on one of Elvis' early records. Compared to the idyllic daydream of 'Norwegian Wood' and the lazy Parisian elegance of 'Michelle', 'What Goes On' is definitely filler.
However, any time Ringo handles lead vocals, it's not a complete waste.
I have never understood why Pink Floyd is such a popular choice for acidheads. I can think of few groups more disconcerting while sober, let alone under the influence of hallucinogens. Roger Waters and David Gilmour should slap a patent on the creepy intro featuring 1950s radio voices and evil synthesizers. At 1:30 Waters' voice drips menace like Kaa from 'The Jungle Book'. At 1:50 there is the obligatory mention of razor blades, and at 2:07 it morphs into a cocaine-fueled dance anthem. By 3:00 the song sounds like it should be featured on the Eagles' Greatest Hits. I'm not sure which snippet is most terrifying.
This is not a good song for poolside lounging.
Song 10: 'Preamble'*
Artist: Umphrey's McGee
Album: Mantis (2009)
Length: 0:36
*False alarm - this isn't an actual song, merely a half-minute of twinkling piano keys that assumedly leads into something more substantial. I suppose the title should have been a tip off. Still, it's an example of jam bands' annoying habit of including useless little interludes on their albums.
Indie pop making a comeback! I've been a big fan of Local Natives for what seems like forever (about a month), but most of my attention has been directed to their debut album Gorilla Manor. Their second record, Hummingbird, has provided an inoffensive soundtrack to several showers but nothing more.
'Black Balloons' features a catchy drum beat and some glimmery electric guitar, supporting vocals that inspire neither awe nor scorn. The song itself is nice if not especially memorable. It's the musical equivalent of that friend you never invite out but chat with amiably at the bar.
At 1:08 the tone becomes serious and introspective, which is perfect because the people who listen to Local Natives like to imagine themselves as serious and introspective. This might be a stretch, but I feel that 'Black Balloons' captures the pretentious maturity of its audience quite well - it's the kind of song you'd hear blaring out of a leased Mazda 6 driven by an entry-level advertising weenie proudly rocking his first grownup suit.
I can't say I really enjoyed the track, but I'd listen to it again - at this point I've been so desensitized/programmed to appreciate earnestly distraught indie music that there's really no hope for an objective analysis. It feels like the kind of song I SHOULD like, so I do. I couldn't tell you why.
Pretending to have an answer for the unanswerable…isn't that what growing up is all about?
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