While I will never fully commit to one band as being my end-all-be-all "favorite", I can, with all the confidence in my 5'6", 150 lb. frame, say that Radiohead is currently the best band in the world. No other (relevant) band in the world can tout the catalogue that these guys have. In the 14 years that this band has been making music, they have released six INCREDIBLE albums, and one OK album (Pablo Honey). The latter just so happened to be their first album, so that pretty much means that every album that Radiohead has released since 1995 has been spectacular.

With the new Radiohead album coming out this past week, I find myself in the middle of a Radiohead binge. It is crazy how when a band releases a really good album, not only will you beat the hell out of that, but you find yourself revisiting all of their old albums as well because you are reminded of just how much you love that particular band. This has been no different with the release of Radiohead's seventh LP, In Rainbows. One of the interesting aspects of Radiohead's most recent release is that it finds the band venturing away from their laptops and back to their guitars and drums, leaving us with a relatively "minimalist" rendering of Radiohead. This got me thinking. There are very few songs on any of Radiohead's "official releases" (their 7 LPs) that I would describe as "sparse" or "bare". However, there are quite a few (fantastic) Radiohead b-sides that fit this mold. Accordingly, I thought I would put together a list of my top five Radiohead b-sides. (For those unaware, b-sides are tracks that don't appear on a main album, but were recorded and released by the band in some alternative form - i.e. EP, single, etc. They got their name from the A-Side and B-Side of 7" single records that were released back in the day. Basically, record labels would release the radio single (the "hit") on the A-Side of the 7" vinyl, and then just another random track on the B-Side - traditionally a track that was recorded but didn't make the cut for the final LP.) Getting to the point, here are my top five Radiohead B-Sides (songs that Radiohead had released, but just not released on any of their seven LPs).

5. "How I Made My Millions" - No Surprises CD 1 (Single)
"How I Made My Millions" was recorded by Thom Yorke, by himself, in his home, on his personal four track. If the recording you have sounds like a demo, that is because it is. When Yorke took this solo recording into the studio to show his bandmates, they all agreed that it was perfect as it was (Radiohead members Ed O'Brien and Phil Selway said it "blew them away"). As such, the band did not touch Yorke's original recording, and released it (as is) on the No Surprises single (pretty rogue for a band known as being studio perfectionists). If you listen closely, you can hear Yorke's girlfriend moving about in the kitchen as Thom sings over a foreboding piano (Why do I get chills when I picture Thom Yorke's girlfriend putting away celery as he labors away in the next room on the piano?). As with many Radiohead songs, the meaning could be a number of things, but I think the ambiguity of this one makes it that much better.

4. "Fog (Again)" (Live) - Com Lag: 2+2=5 (EP)
This is actually the second countdown appearance this track has made on the blog (see: http://tuesdaysonthephone.blogspot.com/2007/01/farewell-to-orange-county.html). Another Thom Yorke solo piano track, "Fog" made its debut at a Radiohead concert in Israel. This has lead to much speculation that the song is about the impact that the Israel/Palestine conflict has had on all of the children living in Israel (and its surrounding areas). It is difficult to know if Yorke was truly trying to make that cultural statement by choosing to unveil the song in Israel (I would not put it past him, but I can also see him emphatically dismissing the claim). On a larger scale, "Fog" tells the story of an individual (or individuals) that has been altered forever by a significant event. Something everyone can relate to. Some of my favorite Yorke lyrics at the end of this song: "How did you go bad? Did you go bad? Some things will never wash away. Did you go bad?"

3. "Gagging Order" - Com Lag: 2+2=5 (EP)
Formerly known as "Move Along", "Gagging Order" is the story of a homeless man that died in the street, and no one even stopped to notice (I think the former title was more appropriate, but the latter title is more "Radiohead"). The song is nothing more than a finger-picked guitar and Thom Yorke (seeing a trend here?). Despite the fact that the song's subject matter is completely depressing, I find this to be one of Radiohead's most beautiful tracks, but I cannot explain why.

2. "Talk Show Host" (Nellee Hooper Remix) - Romeo & Juliet Soundtrack
True story here. During my freshman year of college, I went through a stage where I would download movies that I was too embarrassed to watch with other people, so I watched them on my computer with headphones on. One movie in particular that I remember doing this with was the new version of Romeo & Juliet (I also watched Meet Joe Black in a similar setting...). I remember watching a young Leonardo Dicaprio in Romeo & Juliet though, and thinking that the song that kept playing during all of the important scenes sounded really ominous. No surprise (pun intended), it was Radiohead. Sidenote: I have always thought that Radiohead's versatility would give them the ability to score an entire film, and that that movie would stand on its own just because the music would be so incredible. However, it would be a horrible move for any band to commit to something like that without having complete control over the movie, and that is exactly why this would never happen. Anyhow, "Talk Show Host" has a hollow, industrial feel that fits perfectly with Baz Luhrman's chaotic depiction of modern-day Verona. Additionally, the lyrics, while not written exclusively for the film (see: "Exit Music (For A Film)" for the Radiohead song specifically written for that version of Romeo & Juliet), seem to fit perfectly with the tragic story of star-crossed lovers: "I want to, I want to be someone else or i'll explode".

1. "True Love Waits" (Live) - I Might Be Wrong - Live Recordings
Now this song is almost the entire reason I wanted to make this post. Make no mistake, I love the other four songs on this list, but "True Love Waits" is hands down my favorite, non-LP Radiohead track. I could easily write a "Certain Songs" post based on this song (and i might). There are actually only three songs that have a higher "Play Count" in my itunes than "True Love Waits". Once again, this is a solo Thom Yorke track, and its just Thom strumming an acoustic guitar, singing his heart out. So much is made about the sonic walls that Radiohead has torn down over the years, but it all comes back to the songs, and "True Love Waits" is simply a well written song. Has anyone read the lyrics? You'll have to excuse me, but they're fucking fantastic. I mean, it's heartbreaking, and Yorke's delivery only accentuates this, but the desperation in "True Love Waits" captures the feeling of helplessly being in love more than any song that I can think of ("I'll drown my beliefs to have you be in peace"..."I'm not living, I'm just killing time"...are you kidding me!? This is a B-SIDE!?). I don't know, perhaps I am just too fanatical when it comes to Radiohead to even write about this band. I probably need to bring it back a couple notches. I'll be up in the attic trying to live off of lollipops and crisps if you need me.


- Jameson

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I have been reading a lot of Chuck Klosterman lately. I love his writing because, while it may not be teaching me a lot, it provides me with the solace that there are other people out there over-analyzing life's (insignificant) minutiae as much (if not more) than myself. Plus, he pretty much relates every relationship/situation in his life to music, or music to every relationship/situation in his life...either way...he's right up my alley. I recently came across the following passage in his book, Killing Yourself To Live, in which he (tries to) deconstruct the young male's love for Led Zeppelin. I enjoyed it so much, that I thought I would post it here. It is perfect because, like most anything that is perfect, it is true.

Disclaimer: I DID NOT WRITE THIS. CHUCK KLOSTERMAN WROTE THE FOLLOWING PASSAGE. YOU SHOULD GO BUY HIS BOOKS.

"Whenever I find myself in an argument about the greatest rock bands of all time, I always place Zeppelin third, behind the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. This sentiment is incredibly common; if we polled everyone in North America who likes rock music, those three bands would almost certainly be the consensus selections (and in that order). But Zeppelin is far and away the most popular rock band of all time, and they're popular in a way the Beatles and Stones cannot possibly compete with; this is because every straight man born after the year 1958 has at least one transitionary period in his life when he believes Led Zeppelin is the only good band that ever existed. And there is no other rock group that generates that experience.

A few years ago, I was an on-air guest for a morning radio show in Akron. I was on the air with the librarian from the Akron public library, and we were discussing either John Cheever or Guided by Voices, or possibly both. Talk radio in Akron is fucking crazy. While we were walking out of the studio, the librarian noticed the show's 19-year old producer; the producer had a blond mullet, his blank eyes were beyond bloodshot, and he was wearing ripped jeans and a black Swan Song T-Shirt with all the runes from the Zoso album. The librarian turned to me and said, 'You know, I went to high school with that guy.' This librarian was 42. But he was right. He did go to high school with that guy. Right now, there are boys in fourth grade who do not even realize that they will become 'that guy' as soon as they finish reading The Hobbit in eighth grade. There are people having unprotected sex at this very moment, and the fetus spawned from that union will become 'that guy' in two decades. Led Zeppelin is the most legitimately timeless musical entity of the past half century; they are the only group in the history of rock 'n' roll that every male rock fan seems to experience in exactly the same way.

You are probably wondering why that happens; I'm not sure, either. I've put a lot of thought into this subject (certainly more than any human should), but it never becomes totally clear; it only seems more and more true. For a time, I thought it was Robert Plant's overt misogyny fused with Jimmy Page's obsession with the occult, since that combination allows adolescent males to reconcile the alienation of unhinged teenage sexuality with their own inescapable geekiness. However, this theory strikes me as 'probably stupid.' It would be easy to argue that Zeppelin simply out-rocks all other bands, but that's not really true; AC/DC completely out-rocks Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC is mostly ridiculous. Whatever quality makes Led Zep so eternally archetypal must be 'intangible', but even that argument seems weak; here in Big Sky Country, I'm listening to 'Heartbreaker' at rib-crushing volume, and everything that's perfect about Led Zeppelin seems completely palpable. There is nothing intangible about the invisible nitroglycerin pouring out of the Tauntaun's woofers. Everything is real. And what that everything is - maybe- is this: Led Zeppelin sounds like who they are, but they also sound like who they are not. They sound like an English blues band. They sound like a warm-blooded brachiosaur. They sound like Hannibal's assault across the Alps. They sound sexy and sexist and sexless. They sound dark but stoned; they sound smart but dumb; they seem older than you, but just barely. Led Zeppelin sounds like the way a cool guy acts. Or - more specifically - Led Zeppelin sounds like a certain kind of cool guy; they sound like the kind of cool guy every man vaguely thinks he has the potential to be, if just a few things about the world were somehow different. And the experience this creates is unique to Led Zeppelin because its manifestation is entirely sonic: There is a point in your life when you hear songs like 'The Ocean' and 'Out on the Tiles' and 'Kashmir', and you suddenly find yourself feeling like these songs are actively making you into the person you want to be. It does not matter if you've heard those songs 100 times and felt nothing in the past, and it does not matter if you don't normally like rock 'n' roll and just happened to overhear it in somebody else's dorm room. We all still meet at the same vortex: For whatever the reason, there is a point in the male maturation process when the music of Led Zeppelin sounds like the perfect actualization of the perfectly cool you. You will hear the intro to 'When the Levee Breaks', and it will feel like your brain is stuffed inside the kick drum. You will hear the opening howl of 'Immigrant Song', and you will imagine standing on the bow of a Viking ship and screaming about Valhalla. But when these things happen, you don't think about Physical Graffiti or Houses of the Holy in those abstract, metaphysical terms; you simply think, 'Wow. I just realized something: This shit is perfect. In fact, this record is vastly superior to all other forms of music on the entire planet, so this is all I will ever listen to, all the time.' And you do for six days or six weeks or six years. This is your Zeppelin phase, and it has as much to do with your own personal psychology as it does with the way John Paul Jones played the organ on 'Trampled Under Foot.' It has to do with sociobiology, and with Aleister Crowley, and possibly with mastadons. And you will grow out of it, probably. But this is why Led Zeppelin is the most beloved rock band of all time, even though most people (including myself) think the Beatles and the Rolling Stones are better. Those two bands are appreciated in myriad ways for myriad reasons, and the criteria for doing so changes with every generation. But Led Zeppelin is only loved one way, and that will never evolve. They are the one thing all young men share, and we shall share it forever. Led Zeppelin is unkillable, even if John Bonham was not."


- Jameson

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When i went off to school (Miami University), I would not say I was a particularly happy person. I can honestly say that the summer that lead up to my freshman year at school was one of the worst summers i have ever had (the worst you ask?...well, that's another song). My off and on again girlfriend of the past couple years had officially turned off (which i think everyone involved would agree was for the best). Additionally, there was this other girl that i had somehow construed into being the "end all be all" of all girls on the planet (well at least Ohio). Unfortunately for me though, this girl also was not reciprocating my admiration (which i think everyone involved would agree was for the best), so strike two. On top of all this, and in the confusion of all the aforementioned girl troubles, i had misplaced all my friends (for which i was probably to blame...and certainly was not for the best). Anyhow, that was the third strike, making it a long, lonely summer. I counted down the days until my move to Oxford, and accordingly, the days went by as slow as possible.

Eventually though, I found myself in this totally new environment...and most of that summer fell into the background of my mind. All of the sudden there were all of these new people in my life, and we were all going through the same things. They were good things too. We were all getting used to the significantly less structured academic world of college, while trying to juggle video games, nap-time (freshman year of college i actually took naps...me...naps), and of course the most recreational drinking we would ever experience. My freshman year of college will go down in history as the most accepting social experience of my entire life. I was hanging out with all sorts of characters that I never would have known in high school (most of whom ended up being my best friends). I fell in love with school, and loved it for all four years I was there.

I know what you are thinking though: 1) What's the point, so you had some post-high school/pre-college girl troubles and made some new friends in college? 2) More importantly, where's the music? My response to these thoughts: 1) This is just lying the groundwork for the rest of the story, a brief history so to speak (sidenote: those who know me well will appreciate this as being my most brief recollection of these events i have ever told). 2) There are volumes of mixtapes that could stem from these two time periods alone (Summer of 2002 and Freshman Year of College - "New Friends" Chapter), so rest assured there is plenty of music here. However, today's Certain Songs subject, "Anna Begins", would not appear on either of those mixtapes.

No, up until today, "Anna Begins" would have ended up on a mixtape marked "for my ears only". Unlike most of the music in my life, I tried to hold this song close to me because it hit too close to home, and by praising it to others, i would potentially be hinting that it somehow applied to me. Getting off track for a second: This pretty much encapsulates how i give people far too much credit when it comes to connecting the dots (read: my paranoia). Honestly, could you imagine how difficult of a world it would be if everyone was dissecting things as much as i do? I know this comment comes off as pretentious, but trust me I view it as a weakness of mine. Analysis becomes a deficiency when it becomes a conviction. Let's be realistic, is my passing comment expressing my enthusiasm for a single song really going to trigger someone into thinking that i am fighting with something internally? Most likely not. However, maybe you should remember that is how my mind works before telling me you like the song "Rocket Man" (not that there's anything wrong with that). Getting back on track though, this song struck a chord with me because, like most of the songs we fall in love with, it meant something to me (*it means something to me).

Freshman year at school I discovered a double live Counting Crows album that had been out since about 1998. This album, Across A Wire: Live in New York City, consisted of two discs. The first disc was an acoustic show that the band played for VH1 Storytellers which showcased a number of the band's best tracks in a (semi) unplugged format, and the second disc was a full band (fully plugged-in) live show that was recorded for MTV Live at the 10 Spot. I will be honest, I don't think i have ever listened to the second disc all the way through, and this is mainly because disc one is how the Counting Crows should be heard live. I have seen the Crows twice, and while both shows have been quite solid, neither has held up to disc one of Across A Wire. This mainly can be explained by the fact that the strength of their songs does not lie in the band's ability to "rock out", but rather their ability to convey emotion. This, in turn, can primarily be attributed to the unbridled passion of Counting Crows lead singer, Adam Duritz, who makes me look like a stone on his least sentimental days. The stripped down setup of the unplugged format showcases Duritz at his best, letting him rise above the band where he more or less resides anyway. The version of "Anna Begins" that i fell in love with resides on disc one of Across A Wire.

Ironically enough, "Anna Begins" is one of the least "unplugged" songs on disc one, but this is neither here nor there because Duritz had already declared the evening "his" about five minutes into the show when he brings "Round Here" to fervent close atop a single acoustic guitar ("Would you catch me if i was falling? Would you kiss me if i was leaving? Would you hold me because i am lonely, without you?"...those words don't appear on the studio cut...i like to assume - because that's what i do when left to my own devices - the omission was intentional because Duritz knew these saved-up lines would take the song to the next level in the live setting...although he probably just thought of it after the track had already been recorded). Either way, from there on out he owns the whole night, and despite a full band backing him on "Anna Begins", he still manages to rise well above the mix, a beautiful climax to an unforgettable show.

What allows Duritz to get so lost in the music though is that these are his stories (his life), and each night, he is reliving them in front of a crowd of strangers. "Anna Begins" is Duritz's story of two friends (a guy and a girl) that are wrestling with the fact that they are falling for eachother. The male in this story (presumably Duritz) spends pretty much the entire song denying the situation ("I am not worried, I am not overly concerned"), while the female (via Duritz) spends the same amount of time trying to persuade him into surrendering to, or at least acknowledging, what is happening. The narrator's denial at first comes off as cold, but the repetitive nature reveals that he is just trying to convince himself that "this is not love" because "if it's love", as the female character notes, "then we're gonna have to think about the consequences". As the song progresses, we find Duritz starting to let his guard down, but quickly putting the fences back up, and letting us know (multiple times) that he's "not ready for this sort of thing". It becomes clear though that Duritz's denial is really just a mask for his realization of the potential of what is standing before him, and he just doesn't want to fuck it up (risk losing this friendship, this person). Eventually though, Anna begins to change his mind, and he let's himself fall for her. Duritz does an unbelievable job of depicting the reality of this feeling ("Everytime she sneezes, I think it's love" and "She's talking in her sleep, it's keeping me awake...and every word is nonsense, but i understand"), hinting at the little imperfections he has fallen in love with . Unfortunately though (and perhaps something that is often missed by listeners), Duritz missed the boat here. Just as he submits to the feelings he fought for so long, "Anna begins to fade away" and eventually "disappears". As the song comes to a close, Duritz tells us once more that he's "not ready for this sort of thing". At this point though, it clearly is not Anna's love he's not ready for, but rather the loss of her.

I started listening to "Anna Begins" alot during the second half of my freshman year of college, and pretty much beat the hell out of it for a full year after that (and then some). Eventually, things in my life came to a breaking point, and like Mr. Duritz, i chose not to fight the situation any longer. How did it turn out? I think i fared (a little) better than Adam, but in the end i was left with circumstances i wasn't quite ready for as well. I like Duritz's take on the situation though: "... And it's a terrible thing to find out because it's too late, which is what it ended up being at that point and...it's funny she's married now and she's got a kid and she still lives in Sydney. I still talk to her every once in a while, not too much, but whenever I talk to her she says that she still loves this song, and I do too..."

Heavy huh? Yeah, i don't get no sleep, man, i never sleep.


-Jameson

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For some time I had been considering making a top ten list dedicated to "those songs" that just have always struck a chord with me. It was not necessarily going to be an "end all, be all" list of my favorite songs or anything, but just a list of those songs which will always hit me like a ton of bricks when they come on. The more I tried to compile said list though, the more difficult I realized it would be to do a couple of things: a) Reduce the list down to just a definitive ten songs, b) Capture the emotion/feeling that each of these songs held/holds for me in a small paragraph. Presented with this predicament, I began to think that these songs deserved more than just a little blurb amongst a top ten list which people may or may not read anyhow. As such, I decided to start another "segment" of this blog that I am going to title "Certain Songs". Those hip to the Hold Steady will realize this is a direct "lift" from one of their songs, but the point is so well made by them, that it just makes sense. The theme of the song (and this segment) is best summed up by Craig Finn: "Certain songs they get so scratched into our souls." (sidenote: this is the second time I have actually alluded to this line on the blog). That's what I will be trying to capture with the "certain songs" posts. Just discussing how certain songs have hit me at a particular moment in my life, and how they will be with me for the rest of my life.
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What better place to start than the beginning then? Those who know me best, know that I have always been pretty into the whole music thing. It has clearly escalated in recent years, but I have always been "moved" by music in some form or another (I am pretty sure this stems from the fact that I have two of the most emotional parents in the world, who, I have both seen tear up at the playing of particular songs). Anyhow, one of the first songs (that I can remember) having this effect on me is "Glycerine", by Bush. While Gavin Rossdale and company may have fallen off the map since their reign at the top of mid-90's alternative rock scene, the songs that got them atop of that vast heap have stood the test of time, and are still great today (I realize that I probably believe this because these songs have been with me from the beginning, but that's what music is all about, right?).
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A little background would be appropriate. Bush's first album, Sixteen Stone, was released in late 1994, a year that was just loaded with great rock albums (Want a not-so-brief list?...Weezer - Weezer (Blue Album), Jeff Buckley - Grace, Oasis - Definitely Maybe, Green Day - Dookie, Soundgarden - Superunknown, Beck - Mellow Gold, Stone Temple Pilots - Purple, Pearl Jam - Vitalogy, Blues Traveler - Four, Live - Throwing Copper, The Offspring - Smash, The Smashing Pumpkins - Pisces Iscariot...). To be honest, I must say I am taken back by that list...are people seeing all of that 1994 greatness? It is like my entire awkward youth all right there in your face. Anyhow, the point is, with all these great albums coming out, Bush was right in the thick of things as one of the best in the crew.
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I still remember the first time I heard "Glycerine". It was not until a little over a year after Sixteen Stone was released, so I was about 11 or 12 (5th grade). I saw the video for the song on MTV, and I still remember the first time I heard the somber strings closing out the song, and thinking that they seemed oddly out of place (eventhough now they seem oddly appropriate). The song immediately "clicked" though, and has been with me ever since (talk about loyalty...on a two-way street).
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As nothing more than Mr. Stefani himself, an electric guitar and an array of strings flowing underneath the entire song (swelling and receding at exactly the right moments), "Glycerine" has all the makings of a song that I could absolutely beat the hell out of, and still love. It is sparse, with lyrics that are just ambiguous enough that they can apply to any relationship you have (although I must admit, as with most solo songs, "Glycerine" is most appropriate when the relationship is ending or over). By the way, did I mention the strings?
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Looking back at the time period in my life in which this song would have received the most heavy rotation, "Glycerine" would have most likely been seranading me to sleep throughout the most awkward years of my life (5th - 10th grade...ouch...five years). In fact, this song was not applicable to any relationships I was having because there were no relationships for the song to apply to. Relationships require two people to be involved at some point, and my life was pretty bereft of that second player in that aforementioned time period. That doesn't mean I couldn't relate to "Glycerine" though. Back then, the song was helping me deal with one of art's favorite topics, unrequited love. While I wasn't in relationships, it doesn't mean that I wasn't feeling heartbreak. As anyone who has ever had a non-reciprocated crush knows, you can feel great agony and never gone on a single date with someone. That's what "Glycerine" was doing for me during those years - helping me through my first encounters with heartbreak. However, anytime (going forward) I have found myself in the role of "unrequited lover", I find myself getting re-acquainted with "Glycerine".
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There was a (foolish) time when I would try to argue that "Glycerine" was the name of one of Rossdale's former lovers. In retrospect though, this was downright asinine. First of all, who has a name like Glycerine? Second of all, I am gonna go out on a limb and bet that Rossdale was singing about Glycerine and leaving off the word "Nitro" for songwriting ease. When the song is thought about in this sense, it all becomes a little more clear. I believe that Rossdale is singing about a relationship that grew to be so volatile ("I treated you bad, you bruised my face") that he was afraid to do anything because, like nitroglycerin, if you fuck with it too much, its gonna blow up in your face. In the end, something had to give though ("I needed you more, you wanted us less"), and his idle behavior made no difference because Rossdale's fears came to fruition, and he was left with nothing but sorrow and regret ("Could've been easier on you, I couldn't change, though I wanted to"). The song perfectly frames the role of the one-way lover, who is aware that all is not well, but is too attached to let go, so he just sits there as it all comes crumbling down in front of him.
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Like an old friend, "Glycerine" has been around since the beginning. Before girls ever gave me the time of day, and probably before I had even experienced enough to truly appreciate the song. Songs don't discriminate though. They can be whatever each individual makes them out to be, and for that we should be grateful. Looking back though, I am not sure if those "awkward" years ever ended. It seems like everytime you start to get comfortable with who you "think" you are, life throws you a curveball, and it is back to those "awkward" years all over again. Trying to adjust just enough to fit in. Sure, we don't have braces and ill-fitting clothing anymore, but have we really evolved that far from our early teenage selves? It might just be. Clear, simple, and plain.


- Jameson

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It was The Beatles (specifically Ringo Starr) who told us a few things we can do with a little help from our friends (Sidenote: most people are more familiar with Joe Cocker's cover of Sgt. Pepper's second track...but even that is probably due to its pop-culture bronzing as the theme to the Wonder Years...neither here nor there though). Most importantly, Mr. Starkey was sure to tell us that he gets by with a little help from his friends. Fair enough right? Where would we be without our friends? We love them like family, constantly refer to them as "ours" without actually identifying them ("One of my friends does that.", "One time, my friends and I...", "Tonight? Probably just hangout with my friends"), and we even neglect them more than we would ever care to admit. It all works out though because they are, after all, your friends. They have probably seen you in some of the most compromising situations you have ever been in (i.e. pregnancy scares, run-ins with the law, your 21st birthday). You have probably laughed with them more than anyone else you know, they most certainly know enough about you to break you (but wouldn't dare to if given the opportunity), and chances are you have shared some "emotional" moments with them as well (if you're lucky). There are very few people in your life you can expect to always be there for you, but your friends should be right atop the list. As such, I chose to put together and discuss a (short) list of songs (in no order) about friends (in their various incarnations). The only rules: the word "Friend" must be in the song title and it must not be attached to the words "boy" or "girl".

The White Stripes - "We're Going To Be Friends"

The White Stripes are most often known for music that inspires thoughts of gritty bars and even grittier guitars. However, that's what makes "We're Going To Be Friends" so great. Sandwiched in the middle of the Stripes otherwise rockingly raw third album, White Blood Cells, this track literally starts the second half of the album on a foot that we had never seen put forward by Jack and Meg. Although we have all come to expect a few oddities on every White Stripes album (see:"The Nurse", "Conquest"), "We're Going To Be Friends" wide-eyed tale of two childhood friends and their non-consequential daily routine showed us, for the first time, that the White Stripes were more than just in-your-face garage rockers. Jack tells us a story of two friends in their most innocent form. A time before school involved writing utencils that weren't colored, a time before we had realized our parents were not perfect, a time before cooties (I always picture the main characters in this song as a boy and girl for some reason). The song is friendship in its purest form, and that's why it was recorded the way it was (Jack, an acoustic guitar, and Meg with nothing but her hands in her lap). In a lot of ways, "We're Going To Be Friends" was a crossroads for the White Stripes, a band that could easily have been catergorized and washed away with the garage rock fad that was hitting at the turn of the century. Lucky for us, Jack and company rolled the dice and chose versatility over conformity.

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Wilco - "We're Just Friends"

Jeff Tweedy has never wrote love songs in the traditional sense. He could never have written "I Want To Hold Your Hand", and probably would never have wanted to for a variety of reasons. Mainly though, it is because, more often than not, "I Want To Hold Your Hand" is not realistic, and Tweedy tends to focus on life's realities. "We're Just Friends" is a perfect example of this. The painful words of a man so broken hearted that he will do anything to just be in the presence of his former love. His solution? Act as though he is over aforementioned lover, and now try to befriend her. Hidden amongst this red herring though, are Tweedy's true sentiments. A man plagued with regret and infatuation, Tweedy's narrator "can't imagine ever being apart" from his former flame. In the end, this sparse track finds Tweedy at a piano bench trying to convince us (and himself) that he and this girl are just friends, but the truth of the story lies tucked away in the first verse when Tweedy asks the question, "If love's so easy, why is it hard?" Not quite Lennon & McCartney, but I think Jeff Tweedy is just fine with that.

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LCD Soundsystem - "All My Friends"

A seven and a half minute song with a droning piano that never misses a step, LCD Soundsystem's "All My Friends" is one of those songs where the music helps carry along the story. James Murphy speaks about waking up one day and realizing that the "best years" of your life are past you. Your life has turned into a daily routine (hence the repetitive piano), and it appears that you don't have as many friends as you used to. Murphy frames (my) young adulthood perfectly here, "You spent the first five years trying to get with the plan, and the next five years trying to be with your friends again." Some artists might try to serve listeners a glimmer of hope by providing a solution to this great dilemma, but in the end, Murphy is no prophet, just a scenographer, capturing this unfortunate realization in a song. The track closes with Murphy asking, "Where are your friends tonight?" and ultimately pleading, "If I could see all my friends tonight", vocalizing this idea that the transition to adulthood wouldn't be so hard if we could just be around all of our friends. This begs me to ask a question though: if we could be around all of our friends, would we really be transitioning into adulthood, or just living in deferment?

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Okkervil River - "Song of Our So Called Friend"

Okkervil River's fourth album, Black Sheep Boy, is one of the best "indie rock" albums to have come out in the past five years. Of no coincidence, it is also one of the most depressing albums I own (and I do own it...on Vinyl...sorry). Its ninth track, "Song of Our So Called Friend" is no different. Okkervil River's ringleader, Will Sheff, tends to chronicle (rather eloquently) emotions/situations I have never fully experienced (mainly because I have never actually had my heart ripped out by a woman with a broken-glass glove, thrown onto burning pavement, and then trampled on by a pack of bulls...sidenote: my past girlfriends always preferred knit mittens...kidding...sort of). Anyhow, this leads us to two issues: 1) I may have completely missed the boat on this song, and 2) Any attempt at trying to re-write what I think Will Sheff was thinking would probably just cause the water to further muddy (that barely makes sense in itself). Accordingly, I will attempt to present to you my interpretation of this great song in a not-so-eloquent manner. So here goes: Boy (narrator) loves girl -> girl loves other boy (the "so-called friend" aka "the stone") -> other boy ("the stone") does not love aforementioned girl, or appear to even give a shit about her. What does this equal? Everyone is in love, no one is happy.

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Ryan Adams & The Cardinals - "Friends"

Ryan Adams can rock, he can roll, he can honky tonk, he can even rap (although I would advise against such behavior in the future). When it comes down to it though, what Ryan Adams does best is write quiet little numbers that leave you saying, "Yep. He got it just about right. Only her name was (insert name here)." Adams plays this card flawlessly on "Friends". On this particular occasion, he is capturing the feeling of being in love with someone, but knowing (for whatever reason) you are going to lose that person. Adams impeccably conveys the bittersweet emotions of loving someone who you know will be gone tomorrow. Trying to soak up those last few moments, and push those ugly waves of loss to the back of your mind/heart so you can enjoy just one more afternoon with that person. It all has to come to an end though, and the blues can only be held off for so long. What does Adams say you will miss most though when it all comes crashing down? The only thing that can help you out in a time like that, your friends.

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- Jameson

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As I'm going to be making a more concerted effort to update this kickass music blog at least once a week I thought I'd start it out with a few quick, notable nuggets in order to catch up. First some news:


-The Verve Reunites

It seems to be a year for great bands of the 90s to get themselves back together in order to relive past glories (smashing pumpkins), so it should be no surprise that a fantastically talented band which produced two of the best albums of the 90s (A Northern Soul, Urban Hymns) and a song which is indelibly lodged in the soft tissue of the heads of most people (Bittersweet Symphony) was getting back together. Not only is this a surprise, however, it is a full on double take moment. The Verve's split was not a harmonious affair, and in fact, they split more than once. After 'A Northern Soul' the band, which had made an amazing transition out of the shoegazing netherworld into critical darlings, split up mainly due to guitarist Nick McCabe and front-man Richard Ashcroft butting heads. Ashcroft continued writing and managed to convince McCabe to come back and work on another album, an album which became 'Urban Hymns', a beauty of a record. Soon after the album was released and the band soared through the troposphere (read up on your atmospheric layers) McCabe and Ashcroft's bickering again split the band up as McCabe left to do absolutely nothing for 9 years except a remix or two.

Ashcroft went on to a semi-successful solo career and other members of The Verve showed up in various bands and projects, including Damon Albarn's "The Good, The Bad and The Queen", but the Verve faded from the collective consciousness and all we were left with were three albums of complex beauty and some of the most innovative guitar work in decades. The last anyone had heard McCabe was a recluse and he was not on speaking terms with Ashcroft who released his poorest solo album yet in 2006.

...and then an announcement on The Verve's defunct official website and on Ashcroft's solo website declaring a new album and mini-UK tour.

It will be interesting to see what a new album sounds like as even the previous Verve album was widely seen as mostly Richard Ashcroft's first solo album backed by his Verve band-mates, but regardless of what it ends up being, it will be interesting.

Link to review of The Verve's "A Northern Soul"... check it



-Coldplay's new album has an "Hispanic Theme"

Can someone explain this to me, because I'm really struggling to grasp the concept of this. Can anyone imagine Chris Martin with a mariachi band behind him singing in Spanish? Well I can, and it's fucking hilarious, almost as hilarious as the fact that Coldplay are giving their new album an "Hispanic Theme". Is Chris Martin going to sing bad love lyrics in Spanish now? Has anyone else noticed that he can't write lyrics anymore? Is this a lot of questions for one news item?

Read the whole story here

By the way, not too shabby of a composite for 5 minutes work, eh?



Now for a few mini-reviews:


Willy Mason - If the Ocean Gets Rough

For a guy who was called this generation's Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen in various articles after his first album was released when he was 19, Willy Mason has dropped quicker than a sack of bricks. Although I tend to think he was over-hyped by the critical press who were so quick to dub him with the 'genius songwriter' tag I really fell in love with his clever turns of phrase and the simplicity of his folk/indie sound. His first album "Where the Humans Eat" was a marvelous joining of rough and simple production which perfectly matched the tone of his often-times odd voice. Sounding more like a 55 year old drunk who spent 35 years on a production line than a 19 year old from Martha's Vineyard, Mason was able charm his audience and sing tongue-twisting line's such as:

You shouldn't read Dostoevsky at your age
That and nicotine will make you pale and lean
And twist your face like Mr. Gray's
Though it just manifests in paintings that you make
Or else your eyes will stay the same
Are you that hungry for a change?

But Mason apparently didn't realize why people loved his first album because "If the Ocean Gets Rough" is a failure in just about every way. He swaps the endearing simplicity of the first album for lavish production which only serves to call attention to the fact that his voice simply isn't very strong. It also doesn't help that he seems to also have bought into the fact that he is this generation's voice, writing songs which far exceed his young grasp. The issues he attempts to grapple with and shed 'revelations' on just don't harmonize with his music, voice, and demeanor. The result is an massively uneven album of songs which don't fit together in style, content, or quality.

Go grab Mason's first album and download the only two quality songs from the new one: 'The End of the Race', which is fantastic and the album's shining moment, and 'Save Myself', which although a bit melodramatic, is also quite strong.



Paul McCartney - Memory Almost Full

It's hard to believe that McCartney could still be relevant musically or thematically, but on "Memory Almost Full" Sir Paul not only releases his best solo album in decades, he releases one of his strongest albums ever. I was blown away by the level of his songwriting, production, and the massive number of new musical ideas he presents here, especially since for the last decade he's basically given into being a caricature of himself in which he writes semi-decent songs which seem newly old.

Excluding 'gratitude' the albums only disappointing moment, "Memory Almost Full" is full of absolutely incredible pop-rock songs. "Ever Present Past" is a quick moving indie track which, if released by any person not named Paul McCartney, would be praised as a genius moment for any indie pop act. "Only Mama Knows" begins with a dramatic string section but quickly turns into one of McCartney's most rocking tune's since "Helter Skelter" and "Mister Bellamy", "House of Wax", and "Vintage Clothes" are simply three of the most sonically interesting songs I've heard in the past year.


Go buy it, you'll be incredibly surprised by its newness.


- Luke

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Didn't anybody tell you how to gracefully disappear in a room? Well, luckily the message never made it to National lead man, Matt Beringer, either. Standing at over six feet tall, Matt is a giant (literally) walking throughout the small world that is indie rock, and growing evermore (figuratively) as his band skips across the country, winning over post-college 20-somethings everywhere with his "this is your life on the way down" lyrics delivered in one of the few baritones making waves in the genre.

Standing outside the Basement waiting for the show to start, I had no idea what to expect from the venue, and a pretty good idea of what to expect from the band. I could hear the soundcheck through the heavy door, and the band sounded tight even on abbreviated renditions of their better known tracks, so I was excited to see what would happen when 350 sweaty "neo-adults" were mixed into the equation. Little did I know that the venue was literally the size of a small bar. When I walked into the Basement, I was looking around for a stairway that would lead down to where the band would be playing (a bigger room). However, I quickly saw the stage setup (no way it could have been any larger than the kitchen at either of my college houses), and realized I was in for a treat. Furthermore, there was a bar literally 20 feet from the stage, at which I set-up shop. As people started filing into the venue, I saw a mix of mostly 25-35 year olds, that I assumed were going through the same things I am going through ("Wow, so this is what the real world is like?"), and appropriately the same things Beringer likes to sing about. I also soon realized that even though I was only twenty feet from the center of the stage, it may be difficult seeing the band from my bar stool.

Nevertheless, I sat through the opening bands (Talk Demonic and Shapes & Sizes) which were entertaining enough, but really not in the same vein as the main act (not that many bands out there are....that good). When the National took the stage, I soon transferred my seat from the bar stool to the bar top, which allowed me to perfectly see the top half of the entire band (more than I usually can see at a non-balcony, general admission show), and was completely encouraged by the venue personnel. The band opened this show, like many others on this tour, with "Start A War". While this is not my favorite track on the band's new album Boxer, I think it set the tone of the entire show. The National do what they do by setting the mood. That is not to say that they cannot rock your socks off (cough*Mr. November*cough), but it wouldn't be their style to take it to the house that early in the night. The band is one of the best out there at writing songs that can come off as "mellow" on a first listen, but turn into epics once you grow into them. The term, "brooding", has never been more appropriate. "Start A War" is a microcosm of this treatment, showing the band's teeth, but only for a moment, and just about when you think the song is going to blow up, the band holds back, and takes it back down a few notches. These acts of restraint are what set the National apart from the imitators. It is somewhat similar to the friend/family member that rarely cusses. You know that even when they say "shit" they are super pissed off, and if they drop the word "fuck" you know they mean business. The National rarely takes their act above a high simmer, but when they do, it seems like a boiling cauldron about to fall off its support.

After the opener, the band went into a steady mix of songs from their last two albums (Boxer and Alligator for those keeping score at home), never even touching anything that came out before the Cherry Tree EP. As a huge fan of all three of those releases, I was completely pleased with the song selection for the show. A mid-set "Squalor Victoria" was a pleasant surprise, which in the live setting extended into an rocking conclusion, as opposed to a studio version which felt unfinished. Right after "Squalor Victoria" the band hit their stride with a rousing version of "Baby, We'll Be Fine", whose apologetic chorus never felt more poignant than in the live setting. The band continued to thrill the crowd by playing two standout Alligator tracks, "The Geese of Beverly Road" and "Daughters of the Soho Riots". Two songs which on their own would make the National worthy of one's attention. Following an ardent version of Boxer opening track, "Fake Empire", the band launched into "Mr. November", which was easily the evening's climax. As Beringer screamed the song's chorus, everyone in the bar, including the people who barely knew the song (the cute girl sitting to my right) were singing along. Hearing 350 pre-middle aged "kids" screaming "I won't fuck us over, I'm Mr. November, I'm Mr. November, I won't fuck us over" in unison with such sentiment, honestly brought me to chills, and still does as I am typing this and listening to the song.

Obviously, the band had to depart the stage after that moment of fury, and came back out to finish the show with a very mellow encore which included Boxer closing track, "Gospel" and Cherry Tree EP standout track, "About Today". Both tracks have a feeling of closure to them, so although they are on the lighter side, they felt incredibly appropriate for the moment.

I must say that a band like the National is not for everyone. In fact, I wouldn't even recommend them to a lot of people I know just because I think they are an acquired taste not to be wasted on those not willing to invest themselves in the music. Never have I felt lyrics hit me so close to the heart. Don't get me wrong, the simmering sonic palette and rhythm section of the band are not forces to be ignored, but Beringer brings it all together with his lyrics of growing up in a world that expects us to go from age 22 to 40 in the turning of one season. It is not a realistic expectation, and Beringer brings this feeling to the forefront, making post-college students everywhere feel a little more normal. See it isn't the sad-bastard aspect that we love. It's just the idea that we aren't the only sad-bastards out there that brings us some solace. Is a little condolence too much to ask for generation Y? After all, we are the heirs to this glimmering world.

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