Image via hellogiggles.com
First, the serious stuff: I'm not going to do a 9/11 post. I thought about it, but it seems like a cheap way to get hits. I'm also not wild about the media saturation. Don't get me wrong: grieving on the tenth anniversary is perfectly appropriate. It's just not for me. I remember where I was and what I did, it was a sad and scary time, I'm very fortunate I wasn't more directly affected (as in, I didn't know anyone in the towers or on the planes, and my relatives in New York were safe). While I think it's fine to recall and reflect, I don't feel the need to relive that day.
Moving on.
I'm already sad about summer's end. I live in Chicago, where hopefully we'll continue to have nice weather for several weeks before three days of fall and then several months of freezing our asses off. This summer, thanks to research for writing projects, a stellar public library, and the friends I rely on for new tunes, I discovered a lot of excellent listening material and revisited an old favorite. Here are my top five favorite summer musical finds:
1. The Band and Endless Highway: The Music of the Band
Last year, I got into music of the sixties and seventies as research for a novel. Along the way I discovered that Levon Helm, who played Loretta Lynn's father in one of my all-time favorite biopics, Coal Miner's Daughter, was more than an actor. Helm was part of The Band, a groundbreaking folk-rock group. Around Memorial Day weekend I gave them a listen and I wasn't disappointed. The melodies alternate between fun and soulful, with an old-school country twang and a rock 'n roll twist. Now, I'm still not a Band expert and I haven't listened to everything, but some of my faves so far include "Rag Mama Rag," "Up on Cripple Creek" and the utterly heartbreaking "Rockin' Chair." And thanks to my local library, I also found Endless Highway, a 2007 album featuring Band covers by contemporary musicians like Guster and Jack Johnson. My personal favorite is Death Cab for Cutie's wistful take on "Rockin' Chair."
2. Squirrel Nut Zippers
Research for a new fiction project has taken me from the sixties to the nineties. As a wide-eyed teenager, I was hugely into the neo-jazz group Squirrel Nut Zippers. The frontwoman and I even share a last name! Needless to say, I was over the moon when the group played at my college freshman year. After releasing several albums, the group split up in the mid-2000's, but the music's aged so well I'm aching for another swing revival. Also, I wish I could croon like Katherine. If you're an SNZ neophyte, track down "Lover's Lane," "Hell" and "Good Enough for Granddad." Don't forget to dance along.
3. A Tribe Called Quest
"Can I kick it? Yes you can!" I wasn't a fan of this powerhouse hip-hop quartet in their heyday - before I discovered alternative rock, I was mainly into showtunes. (And yet, I still wondered why I wasn't popular in junior high.) However, this summer I reviewed Michael Rapaport's documentary about the group on assignment for The Film Yap. If the stunning creativity and fascinating group dynamics weren't enough to draw me in, the intelligent lyrics and sick beats did the trick. The very next day I put The Anthology on hold at the library, and now I'm so obsessed that I compare myself and my best friend Bob to Phife Dawg (me, the five-footer) and Q-Tip (the abstract), respectively. "Can I Kick It?" is seriously groovy, and I also love "Electric Relaxation," "Luck of Lucien" and "Award Tour."
4. Foster the People
My pals Bob and Stan always know what's up with indie music and more importantly, what their friend Unpro will enjoy. Stan got me into Fun. and The Format, and for that I am forever grateful. And a few weeks ago, Bob was astounded I hadn't yet discovered Foster the People, immediately burning me their CD, Torches. The combination of peppy danceable rhythms and fairly dark lyrics (which Fun. also does very well) are incredibly appealing. If you're a radio listener, you've probably heard "Pumped Up Kicks" (the lyrics are disturbing like whoa when you really listen), but I encourage you to give the whole album a try. I adore "Don't Stop (Color on the Walls)."
5. Muppets: The Green Album
Just . . . yes. This album needed to happen. Jim Henson's ability to create truly human characters out of brightly colored puppets, and to inspire emotion in children and the adults they become, is something the world had never seen before and may never see again. It's important to preserve this legacy, and The Green Album goes a long way to achieve this goal. Bands such as OK Go and Weezer may offer their own spin on classics like "The Muppet Show Theme" and "Rainbow Connection," but the melodies and lyrics remain unchanged and phenomenal. Who didn't enjoy Kermit and Rowlf's duet "I Hope That Something Better Comes Along" as a kid? I sure did. Then I listened to Matt Nathanson's cover and realized how flipping ADULT those lyrics are. Not inappropriate for kids or anything, but wow. There's some real heartbreak going on. On a lighter note, I dare you not to giggle at Sondre Lerche's exuberant "Mr. Bassman." And I triple dog dare you not to cry at Rachael Yamagata's astoundingly wistful "I'm Going to Go Back There Someday." Mr. Henson, as I've done many times in my life, I tip my funky hat to you.
(Click here to read about what happened when I revisited The Muppets Take Manhattan.)
Did you discover any cool music over the summer? Leave a comment!
Showing posts with label fun.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fun.. Show all posts
Monday, September 12, 2011
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
A Band You Should Know: Fun.
My roommate is a music master. Seriously, this guy knows all, making him particularly adept at mix CD's. Only thing is, he doesn't give you a track list until AFTER you've listened. It can be a pain, but it can also yield many cool surprises. Such as last December, when I heard these lyrics:
Until their lips start to move, and your friends talk music
I say I've never heard the tune
But I have, I just hate the band 'cause they remind me of you.
You know the movie High Fidelity? I've pretty much lived it. Not just the weirdly recurring ex, but the indie friends. The coworkers fixated on the obscure. The city of Chicago, not from the perspective of a tourist or a rich Gold Coaster, but an obsessive nerd in dirty jeans making ends meet and trying to figure out life and love through the lens of pop culture.
And most of all, associating song lyrics, bands, movies, books, plays with former crushes, boytoys and lovers? Oh yeah. Oh yeah.
Didn't hurt that said lyrics were crooned in a Freddie Mercury-like belt primed for screaming. That's like catnip for the Queen freak in me.
The song? "All the Pretty Girls." The band? Fun. I had to know more.
Turns out, this "American indie pop band" (what on Earth did we do before Wikipedia?) was formed by three guys who had three bands of their own: Nate Ruess of The Format, Andrew Dost of Anathallo, and Jack Antonoff of Steel Train. As I'm not a music critic (this is where the "unprofessional" part comes in), I myself am not sure how exactly to describe their style. I guess "American indie pop" would be one way to phrase it--and I'm not one of those people who derides the word "pop," because a good song is a good song--but I'm not sure if those are the words that immediately come to my mind.
I'd maybe go with "dramatic," but not in a wannabe freshman theatre major type of way. I'm talking about recognizing the big moments that lie in the small. Comparing someone you love to a sandwich. Reminding yourself to stay calm. Realizing that pickup lines just aren't your thing.
In short, I'm going to go the route of Mia Michaels from So You Think You Can Dance when it comes to describing Fun.'s album, Aim and Ignite: it's a blue wind. It's a hurricane and a purple rainstorm. It's everything.
Because in a way, this brief 10-song album IS everything. The songs run the emotional and experiential gamut: falling in love, acknowledging an imperfect relationship, outgrowing your old group of friends, breaking up, making up, coming home, being okay with the weird and flawed person that is you. And none of this is emo and mopey and navel-gazing. Quite the contrary: even the saddest songs make you want to dance, not necessarily pogo stick around the room, but move.
I apologize if this sounds la-la-la ambiguous. I can analyze the shit out of celebs, movies and books. I've been trained to pick apart plays. But for me, music has always been a bit more difficult to pinpoint. Even if I knew how to properly critique it, I'm not sure I could. Because there's something about the way a lyric, a chord, a voice will just hit me. Something primal. I get it, I understand it, and I have a yen to listen to it again and again. And I can't quite explain why, so I'll let the band speak for themselves:
In short, that's how Fun. makes me feel. And if you give them a shot, maybe you will feel it too.
Just as I started this post with a roommate story, I'll end with one: last month, we both turned 30. He had been hinting forever that I was going to LOVE my present, only telling me that no, he hadn't arranged for Joel McHale and Anthony Bourdain to visit our apartment and have a threesome with me. The actual gift, though, was better: a Fun. poster, not only signed by the band, but personalized to Unpro on her 30th birthday. They even drew a little cake.
Fun.
Until their lips start to move, and your friends talk music
I say I've never heard the tune
But I have, I just hate the band 'cause they remind me of you.
You know the movie High Fidelity? I've pretty much lived it. Not just the weirdly recurring ex, but the indie friends. The coworkers fixated on the obscure. The city of Chicago, not from the perspective of a tourist or a rich Gold Coaster, but an obsessive nerd in dirty jeans making ends meet and trying to figure out life and love through the lens of pop culture.
And most of all, associating song lyrics, bands, movies, books, plays with former crushes, boytoys and lovers? Oh yeah. Oh yeah.
Didn't hurt that said lyrics were crooned in a Freddie Mercury-like belt primed for screaming. That's like catnip for the Queen freak in me.
The song? "All the Pretty Girls." The band? Fun. I had to know more.
Turns out, this "American indie pop band" (what on Earth did we do before Wikipedia?) was formed by three guys who had three bands of their own: Nate Ruess of The Format, Andrew Dost of Anathallo, and Jack Antonoff of Steel Train. As I'm not a music critic (this is where the "unprofessional" part comes in), I myself am not sure how exactly to describe their style. I guess "American indie pop" would be one way to phrase it--and I'm not one of those people who derides the word "pop," because a good song is a good song--but I'm not sure if those are the words that immediately come to my mind.
I'd maybe go with "dramatic," but not in a wannabe freshman theatre major type of way. I'm talking about recognizing the big moments that lie in the small. Comparing someone you love to a sandwich. Reminding yourself to stay calm. Realizing that pickup lines just aren't your thing.
In short, I'm going to go the route of Mia Michaels from So You Think You Can Dance when it comes to describing Fun.'s album, Aim and Ignite: it's a blue wind. It's a hurricane and a purple rainstorm. It's everything.
Because in a way, this brief 10-song album IS everything. The songs run the emotional and experiential gamut: falling in love, acknowledging an imperfect relationship, outgrowing your old group of friends, breaking up, making up, coming home, being okay with the weird and flawed person that is you. And none of this is emo and mopey and navel-gazing. Quite the contrary: even the saddest songs make you want to dance, not necessarily pogo stick around the room, but move.
I apologize if this sounds la-la-la ambiguous. I can analyze the shit out of celebs, movies and books. I've been trained to pick apart plays. But for me, music has always been a bit more difficult to pinpoint. Even if I knew how to properly critique it, I'm not sure I could. Because there's something about the way a lyric, a chord, a voice will just hit me. Something primal. I get it, I understand it, and I have a yen to listen to it again and again. And I can't quite explain why, so I'll let the band speak for themselves:
In short, that's how Fun. makes me feel. And if you give them a shot, maybe you will feel it too.
Just as I started this post with a roommate story, I'll end with one: last month, we both turned 30. He had been hinting forever that I was going to LOVE my present, only telling me that no, he hadn't arranged for Joel McHale and Anthony Bourdain to visit our apartment and have a threesome with me. The actual gift, though, was better: a Fun. poster, not only signed by the band, but personalized to Unpro on her 30th birthday. They even drew a little cake.
Fun.
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