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Like most great artists, Samuel Beam has many talents. He has degrees in fine art and film, and taught cinematography and film at a college level. He took the name "Iron & Wine" from a dietary supplement, "Beef Iron & Wine," which he found at a store while on a film shoot, and it should be noted that he has directed most of his own music videos. His first album was released on Sub Pop in 2002, the result of a borrowed four track and the right ears hearing the material. If you've heard Iron & Wine then you know the next thing I have to say is inherent. If you've not heard Iron & Wine before you will discover an amazing and magical intimacy. No matter the volume, every Iron & Wine song sounds like it is whispered into your ear. It's like you can feel his breath on the side of your face. There are no casual Iron & Wine fans, and the people who are not fans yet simply haven't heard the song that Beam wrote for them.
"The Trapeze Swinger" by Iron & Wine from Around The Well
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnGXduu293c
Note: This song is available most readily on Iron & Wine's 2009 B-Side and Rarity collection Around The Well, but was recorded for the motion picture and is featured on the soundtrack for In Good Company.
From a musical standpoint "The Trapeze Swinger" is incredibly simple, being four chords with a slight variation being repeated for the entire song. It is a stylistic quality of Iron & Wine that he is able to take a sparse musical landscape and make sound thick and vast.
From a lyrical standpoint this is a story song sung from a person who has passed on to someone he has left behind. The story is told in a nonlinear path, leaving lots to be filled in by the listener. Besides his timbre, this is a way for Beam to make this song more intimate. It feels more personal because the details need to be filled in by the memories and imaginations of the listener. Each verse of "The Trapeze Swinger" starts out with "Please Remember Me ...," an adverb, and then a memory or a story.
The first verse rolls out "Please, remember me, Happily, with bruises on my chin; The time when we counted every black car passing your house beneath the hill and up until someone caught us in the kitchen with maps, a mountain range, a piggy bank ..." It takes us back to the protagonist's childhood, adventuring with the other character from the song, person this song is directed at, the subject of the song. We instantly know that this is dealing with a long and deep friendship. The singer is not only asking to be remembered as a happy child, but reminding the listener of a happy time in their lives, and telling the listener that he himself was happy during the time they both shared.
The next verse goes on, "Please, remember me, Fondly, I heard from someone you're still pretty," Our protagonist is asking newcomers about the people in his past. Specifically his concerns lie with the subject of the song. This person is maybe more important to the protagonist than we had originally thought. "and he went on to say that the pearly gates had some eloquent graffiti like 'We'll meet again,' and 'Fuck the man,' and 'Tell my mother not to worry,' and angels with their gray handshakes were always done in such a hurry.' What beautiful imagery that the pearly gates are covered in the graffiti of wayward souls giving messages to passers by, that heaven is a gated community in the rough part of town, that to angels the souls of men don't really matter. This certainly also raises the question where is our protagonist that the pearly gates and the behavior of angels are foreign to him? Is he in hell? Is he in limbo? What situation is he in that he has met others that have seen the gates, but they also are not in heaven? What does it take to reach those gates?
"and please, remember me At Halloween making fools of all the neighbors, our faces painted white." Another childhood memory, a little older here. The two are growing up with each other, partners in crime. "By midnight we'd forgotten one another and when morning came I was ashamed..." Growing, up, out, forward, apart is hard. It requires the development of all sorts of feelings that didn't exist before. Friendships take on all sorts of new dynamics. Trust starts to mean something different than that your parents will love you no matter what you do. Slight mistakes and big decisions feel the same and opposite from moment to moment. "Only now it seems so silly that the season left the world and then returned," He's not talking about autumn. He might be talking about the fall. "And now you're lit up by the city."
"So please, remember me, Mistakenly, in the window of the tallest tower. Call, then pass us by..." Don't block out those memory triggers. Let something insignificant remind you of me just for a moment, and then continue on, "but much to high to see the empty road at happy hour gleam and resonate, just like the gates around the holy kingdom with words like 'Lost and found,' and 'Don't look down,' and 'Someone save temptation.'"
"and please, remember me, as in the dream we had as rug burned babies among the fallen trees and fast asleep." Remember our plans, you and I, one day we'll run away to the circus, leave everything but each other for a life of fun and adventure. "Aside the lions and the ladies that called you what you like and even might give a gift for your behavior, a fleeting chance to see a trapeze swing as high as any savior"
"but please, remember me, my misery, and how it lost me all I wanted." Our protagonist realizes that anything he wanted he sabotaged. How easy that is to do, and how impossible it is to change. What a horrible existence some of us love to lead. "Those dogs that love the rain and chasing trains," content with unhappiness, chasing the inevitable lose. "The colored birds above there running in circles around the well, and where it spells on the wall behind St. Peter's so bright with cinder gray and spray paint 'Who the hell can see forever?'" So much anger and regret. Who the hell can see forever!? Nothing turns out the way we planned.
"and please, remember me, seldomly in the car behind the carnival..." Here at the apex we find that they made it to the carnival. "My hand between your knees. You turned from me and said 'The trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last." No one wants this inevitable moment to happen, the moment your paths diverge. Please remember it, because it is important, but don't hold on it. It was wonderful, but it was never meant to last so remember me the way you want to remember me. Remember what you meant to me. Remember that once I meant something to you. "The clowns that passed saw me just come up with anger. When it filled with circus dogs, the parking lot had an element of danger."
"So please, remember me, finally," as a closing thought, "and all my uphill clawing my dear." I just wanted you to know that "... if i make the pearly gates I'll do my best to make a drawing of God and Lucifer, a boy and a girl, an angel kissin' on a sinner, a monkey and a man, a marching band all around the frightened trapeze swingers." I don't belong in heaven. Hell, I haven't seen the gates with my own two eyes. I just know what others have told me, but I'm going to do my damnedest to get there, and it will be an uphill battle. It will take everything I've got, but know that if I make those gates I'm not there for myself. Like I said, I don't belong there. No, if I make it to heaven I will do my best to draw a picture letting everyone that crosses those gates knows how important you are.
"The Trapeze Swinger" is the first song that I've found since I've started Suicide Watch Songs that came out of nowhere. Every other song I've done was somewhat on my radar. Coming up to this post I was trying to decide which song to write about and I started to look into Iron & Wine. I've been a fan for a while but as I started looking through my collection two things kept me from picking a song. One deals with an informal rule I've imposed on myself that I will only write about any particular songwriter or group once a year. I do this so that I don't repeat myself or stick within my musical comfort zone. The goal is to branch out as much as possible. This makes me also think that I need to take in as much of that artists catalog as possible so that I can be assured that I am making the correct choice to write about. I would hate to write a review only to discover the song I should have written about a month later. Doing this with Iron & Wine was not easy as he has a lot of rare tracks. Luckily, this song has become a fan favorite and thus shows up a lot when searching his songs. The other thing that was giving me trouble is that for as intimate as somber sounding as Sam Beam is at times, for the most part his music is quite hopeful and has wondering curiosity of life and creation all about it. That is why this song just slapped me upside the head and turned my world around. At the beginning of this review I mentioned that Iron & Wine has written a song for everyone. "The Trapeze Swinger" is mine. I hope it is some of your's as well.
Thanks as always for taking the time to read. If you have anything to say or wish to suggest songs please feel free to do so here or email me at suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Sour Milk
Preston Lovingwood from Wild Sweet Orange came up to me the other day and said "I had a dream last night that you used "Sour Milk" on Suicide Watch Songs," to which I replied "Hey Preston, let's make that a reality."
"Sour Milk" by Wild Sweet Orange from We Have Reason To Be Uneasy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETSm8mKx2Xc
Link To Studio Version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYbNNs-ggSw&feature=related
Wild Sweet Orange are in an indie-conundrum. They are caught somewhere between "indie," wherein a band is well known and popular among those in the know, label supported and touring behind a slick produced album in a new Dodge Sprinter van, and an indie band, wherein the band is kinda known with a few diehard fans, but most people are there to see the other bands on the show, they've put out their own album, most likely recorded in a decent basement studio, possibly with it's own handmade packaging, and getting from gig to gig in uncle Ray's old Econoline 150. In other words, somewhere between radio indie and file sharing indie. Wild Sweet Orange has the slick recording, good looking merch, and the tight tonal landscape of a major label indie band, but none of the clout, at least not around here. For the record, I have no clue what the band uses to get from gig to gig.
What we've got here is a band that is aiming high, and with good reason. One has to play the part they want and they are doing so, the only issue is if they can hang on through the rough times long enough to make it there. I was introduced to the band the way that I'm sure many were, from a friend. They have one album to date, We Have Cause To Be Uneasy, which I promptly stole, and then validated by buying a copy when the band came through town. While the whole album is great, the fifth track "Sour Milk" jumped right out at me and has stuck with me.
Note that there are two links at the top of the page, one to the posted video and one to the album cut. I really like the solo acoustic version and wanted to share it and that is why it is the primary video. However, if you like the song you should check out the studio version as well. There are many attributes that are added in the full band version. For instance, the pump organ at the beginning was captured really well. You can hear the reeds clearly. The background vocal at the end of the song is truly amazing as well.
"I'll take the road less traveled by, that's what my father always said. Now he works in an office with a whore in his bed." This sets the theme of the song right away. Arriving at adulthood is a daunting task. Understanding that your own father is fallible is one of the hardest realizations to which I have come. Our teachers are hypocrites. On some level they must be, that is part of the goal of all good people to leave the world better than you found it. 'Son, do what I say and not what I do' is akin to 'Son, be a better person than me.'
"My mother sleeps alone at night dreamin' of all her regret inside. I want to tell her that I love her. Oh and if I could, I would have given her so much better," I do not interpret this line not as I gave my all and I wish I had more to give. Instead I interpret it as if I had another chance, I would have been a better son. "'cause don't you tell me that that man is my father." I am better than that. I am not that man's son, and I wish I could go back and prove it. "Oh just some hooded conceiver, who tried really really hard to please her." Here some uncertainty is introduced. Our protagonist is not happy with the man his father is, but at least he acknowledges that he tried. This puts doubt on the whole situation. We're led to believe that it's the father who left, but really isn't it usually the man who has to leave in a relationship, at least from the child's view? Don't most children live with their mothers after a divorce? So maybe it wasn't Dad's doing. Maybe mom wanted to end it.
Too heavy, our protagonist must retreat. "So I'm returning to my gladness when I was only ten. Playing football in the front yard and sweating with my friends." Old memories are always great or horrible. Over time the ones that don't fade away dig in and become iconic in the back of the brain, and so mist people think of their childhood fondly or with disdain. For our protaganist, his childhood is a distant, perfect time, to be chased but never achieved again. "I remember when I was thirteen. It was October something. I was standing on the front lawn listening. That was the first time I heard you calling, as the sun was cooling down." Who was calling? What was calling?
"and the Mom's were about to drive their kids around, and they say 'Blah blah blah blah.' And they say 'Blah blah blah. They give us truth decieving. I don't think that's truth at all." The 'blah's' repeat and then "They give us love that's leaving. I don't think that's love at all." Harsh, hopeless. Was it the 'blah's' that were calling, deceiving and leaving the single glimmer of hope in this song?
We continue: "Oh and the steeple people, oh they're so happy not knowing you. So boldly do they pervert your truth." Is it higher power? Is it self awareness? Is it the protagonist himself calling? The next couplet certainly sets up an 'us and them' scenario. "Oh did they think we wouldn't grow up? Did they think we wouldn't throw back up the sour milk they've been pouring down our throats?"
We are angry. We are ready to question with real reasons behind our ideals. We are ready to have a voice! "Oh and they have raised one pissed off generation with kids that have to start taking care of them. Like hey mom! Get to work on time, and hey Dad! Would you come home to night? And the both of you stop drinking so much wine."
... "and they say 'Blah blah blah blah"
hopeless. no one listens. no one cares. there is no reason to.
As always feel free to comment or give suggestions for songs here or at
suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
"Sour Milk" by Wild Sweet Orange from We Have Reason To Be Uneasy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETSm8mKx2Xc
Link To Studio Version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CYbNNs-ggSw&feature=related
Wild Sweet Orange are in an indie-conundrum. They are caught somewhere between "indie," wherein a band is well known and popular among those in the know, label supported and touring behind a slick produced album in a new Dodge Sprinter van, and an indie band, wherein the band is kinda known with a few diehard fans, but most people are there to see the other bands on the show, they've put out their own album, most likely recorded in a decent basement studio, possibly with it's own handmade packaging, and getting from gig to gig in uncle Ray's old Econoline 150. In other words, somewhere between radio indie and file sharing indie. Wild Sweet Orange has the slick recording, good looking merch, and the tight tonal landscape of a major label indie band, but none of the clout, at least not around here. For the record, I have no clue what the band uses to get from gig to gig.
What we've got here is a band that is aiming high, and with good reason. One has to play the part they want and they are doing so, the only issue is if they can hang on through the rough times long enough to make it there. I was introduced to the band the way that I'm sure many were, from a friend. They have one album to date, We Have Cause To Be Uneasy, which I promptly stole, and then validated by buying a copy when the band came through town. While the whole album is great, the fifth track "Sour Milk" jumped right out at me and has stuck with me.
Note that there are two links at the top of the page, one to the posted video and one to the album cut. I really like the solo acoustic version and wanted to share it and that is why it is the primary video. However, if you like the song you should check out the studio version as well. There are many attributes that are added in the full band version. For instance, the pump organ at the beginning was captured really well. You can hear the reeds clearly. The background vocal at the end of the song is truly amazing as well.
"I'll take the road less traveled by, that's what my father always said. Now he works in an office with a whore in his bed." This sets the theme of the song right away. Arriving at adulthood is a daunting task. Understanding that your own father is fallible is one of the hardest realizations to which I have come. Our teachers are hypocrites. On some level they must be, that is part of the goal of all good people to leave the world better than you found it. 'Son, do what I say and not what I do' is akin to 'Son, be a better person than me.'
"My mother sleeps alone at night dreamin' of all her regret inside. I want to tell her that I love her. Oh and if I could, I would have given her so much better," I do not interpret this line not as I gave my all and I wish I had more to give. Instead I interpret it as if I had another chance, I would have been a better son. "'cause don't you tell me that that man is my father." I am better than that. I am not that man's son, and I wish I could go back and prove it. "Oh just some hooded conceiver, who tried really really hard to please her." Here some uncertainty is introduced. Our protagonist is not happy with the man his father is, but at least he acknowledges that he tried. This puts doubt on the whole situation. We're led to believe that it's the father who left, but really isn't it usually the man who has to leave in a relationship, at least from the child's view? Don't most children live with their mothers after a divorce? So maybe it wasn't Dad's doing. Maybe mom wanted to end it.
Too heavy, our protagonist must retreat. "So I'm returning to my gladness when I was only ten. Playing football in the front yard and sweating with my friends." Old memories are always great or horrible. Over time the ones that don't fade away dig in and become iconic in the back of the brain, and so mist people think of their childhood fondly or with disdain. For our protaganist, his childhood is a distant, perfect time, to be chased but never achieved again. "I remember when I was thirteen. It was October something. I was standing on the front lawn listening. That was the first time I heard you calling, as the sun was cooling down." Who was calling? What was calling?
"and the Mom's were about to drive their kids around, and they say 'Blah blah blah blah.' And they say 'Blah blah blah. They give us truth decieving. I don't think that's truth at all." The 'blah's' repeat and then "They give us love that's leaving. I don't think that's love at all." Harsh, hopeless. Was it the 'blah's' that were calling, deceiving and leaving the single glimmer of hope in this song?
We continue: "Oh and the steeple people, oh they're so happy not knowing you. So boldly do they pervert your truth." Is it higher power? Is it self awareness? Is it the protagonist himself calling? The next couplet certainly sets up an 'us and them' scenario. "Oh did they think we wouldn't grow up? Did they think we wouldn't throw back up the sour milk they've been pouring down our throats?"
We are angry. We are ready to question with real reasons behind our ideals. We are ready to have a voice! "Oh and they have raised one pissed off generation with kids that have to start taking care of them. Like hey mom! Get to work on time, and hey Dad! Would you come home to night? And the both of you stop drinking so much wine."
... "and they say 'Blah blah blah blah"
hopeless. no one listens. no one cares. there is no reason to.
As always feel free to comment or give suggestions for songs here or at
suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Bankrupt On Selling
Modest Mouse is an old band. Most of you reading this blog will already know about the differences between newer and older Modest Mouse, but for those of you that don't we're going to take a trip back to their masterpiece The Lonesome Crowded West, with "Bankrupt On Selling"
"Bankrupt On Selling" by Modest Mouse from The Lonesome Crowded West
I remember first hearing Modest Mouse circa '99 or 2000, at the end of or just after my stay in high school, which was already pretty far along in the band's career. It was a surprise to me a few years later, in 2004, when "Float On" became a huge hit. Truthfully, the band had fallen completely off my radar. I remember specifically in my experience as a private music instructor when a student came in to learn a song by this "great new band Modest Mouse." Ha, new!
This truly heralded in a new era for Modest Mouse. They had traversed the gap between independent band and indie band. At the same time, there was a fundamental change in the mood of their music. Modest Mouse is certainly known for being a dark band. After deciding that I wanted to cover a Modest Mouse tune, it took me quite a while to settle on this one due to the vast amount of depressing material. I don't think I have to go farther than the album titles to illustrate this. Titles like The Lonesome Crowded West, This Is A Long Drive For Someone With Nothing To Think About, and Building Nothing Out Of Something delve deeply into the helplessness of life the music conveys. From Good News For People That Love Bad News (the album that featured "Float On") on, Modest Mouse changed their view on life. From this point on the music is hopeful instead of hopeless. One needs but look to the first lyric of "Float On," to see the change: "I backed my car into a cop car the other day, well he just drove off, sometimes life's ok."
"Bankrupt On Selling" feels just about as far away from "Float On" as can be. It is a texturally sparse recording with two guitars and a vocal. The recording itself sounds distant, or like it's in the background of a coffeehouse in a movie from the late nineties. The chord progression remains the same throughout the song with a circular feel that builds on it's lingering remains.
The vocals open with "Well all the apostles are sittin' in swings sayin' 'I'd sell off my savior for a set of new rings and some sandals with the style of straps that cling best to the era.'" Immediately we are faced with an absurd situation. How could an angel sell of their savior? And for what? Rings and sandals? Isn't this a human trait? Certainly a man must sell his soul to the devil for the ability to write amazingly beautiful yet utterly depressing, but an angel is not allowed to sell his savior. An angel isn't allowed to want material things. This paints all too human a light on angels; all too dark.
"So all of the businessers in their unlimited hell where they buy and they sell and they sell all their trash to each other, but they're sick of it all and they're bankrupt on selling." Businessers, businessmen, businesswomen, are all human. What creates this hell? Is it the situation of buying and selling? Wait, what is being bought and sold? Don't we all do this? Don't we all buy and sell trash to each other? Is it not hell? Do we not create this hell ourselves?
The subtlety of the comparison of man and angel, and heaven and hell is sly and couth. We return now to heaven: "And all of the angels, they'd sell off your soul for a new set of wings and anything gold." Wait, my soul? MY soul? Don't I have control over my soul? I mean I know that trading it for a doughnut is a bad idea, but it's my choice to do so, isn't it? And an angel could and would trade my intangible soul for wings and gold? It hurts to be traded like commodity. "They remember the people they loved, their old friends. And I've seen through them all, seen through them all, and seen through most everything." Their friends are just like they are. Fake and phony, and just like they are, but we've finally got to meet our protagonist, who has seen through them all.
He who has seen through them all is telling us a story, he is expounding on his belief. He continues "All the people you knew were the actors." Oh. He's not talking about angels, he's talking about the illusion of good people. He's not talking about heaven, he's talking about the ideal. He's not talking about hell, he's talking about cold hard reality. "All the people you knew were the actors." He's talking about man. He's talking about you and me.
"Well I'll go to college and I'll learn some big words and I'll talk real loud. Goddamn right I'll be heard. You'll remember the guy who said all those big words he must have learned in college." Our protagonist is an idealist. We are all idealists. We all want to make a change, we all want to be important. We all want to be remembered. He will fight to not be the kind of person he has described before.
We continue, "and it took a long time until I came clean with myself. I'd grown clean out of love with my lover. I still love her, loved her more when she used to be sober and I was kinder." Our protagonist did not reach his goals. Our protagonist is a hypocrite. Our protagonist is not always rational and is driven by desire. Our protagonist is us, and we are all the same.
Please comment or give suggestions here or email to suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
"Bankrupt On Selling" by Modest Mouse from The Lonesome Crowded West
I remember first hearing Modest Mouse circa '99 or 2000, at the end of or just after my stay in high school, which was already pretty far along in the band's career. It was a surprise to me a few years later, in 2004, when "Float On" became a huge hit. Truthfully, the band had fallen completely off my radar. I remember specifically in my experience as a private music instructor when a student came in to learn a song by this "great new band Modest Mouse." Ha, new!
This truly heralded in a new era for Modest Mouse. They had traversed the gap between independent band and indie band. At the same time, there was a fundamental change in the mood of their music. Modest Mouse is certainly known for being a dark band. After deciding that I wanted to cover a Modest Mouse tune, it took me quite a while to settle on this one due to the vast amount of depressing material. I don't think I have to go farther than the album titles to illustrate this. Titles like The Lonesome Crowded West, This Is A Long Drive For Someone With Nothing To Think About, and Building Nothing Out Of Something delve deeply into the helplessness of life the music conveys. From Good News For People That Love Bad News (the album that featured "Float On") on, Modest Mouse changed their view on life. From this point on the music is hopeful instead of hopeless. One needs but look to the first lyric of "Float On," to see the change: "I backed my car into a cop car the other day, well he just drove off, sometimes life's ok."
"Bankrupt On Selling" feels just about as far away from "Float On" as can be. It is a texturally sparse recording with two guitars and a vocal. The recording itself sounds distant, or like it's in the background of a coffeehouse in a movie from the late nineties. The chord progression remains the same throughout the song with a circular feel that builds on it's lingering remains.
The vocals open with "Well all the apostles are sittin' in swings sayin' 'I'd sell off my savior for a set of new rings and some sandals with the style of straps that cling best to the era.'" Immediately we are faced with an absurd situation. How could an angel sell of their savior? And for what? Rings and sandals? Isn't this a human trait? Certainly a man must sell his soul to the devil for the ability to write amazingly beautiful yet utterly depressing, but an angel is not allowed to sell his savior. An angel isn't allowed to want material things. This paints all too human a light on angels; all too dark.
"So all of the businessers in their unlimited hell where they buy and they sell and they sell all their trash to each other, but they're sick of it all and they're bankrupt on selling." Businessers, businessmen, businesswomen, are all human. What creates this hell? Is it the situation of buying and selling? Wait, what is being bought and sold? Don't we all do this? Don't we all buy and sell trash to each other? Is it not hell? Do we not create this hell ourselves?
The subtlety of the comparison of man and angel, and heaven and hell is sly and couth. We return now to heaven: "And all of the angels, they'd sell off your soul for a new set of wings and anything gold." Wait, my soul? MY soul? Don't I have control over my soul? I mean I know that trading it for a doughnut is a bad idea, but it's my choice to do so, isn't it? And an angel could and would trade my intangible soul for wings and gold? It hurts to be traded like commodity. "They remember the people they loved, their old friends. And I've seen through them all, seen through them all, and seen through most everything." Their friends are just like they are. Fake and phony, and just like they are, but we've finally got to meet our protagonist, who has seen through them all.
He who has seen through them all is telling us a story, he is expounding on his belief. He continues "All the people you knew were the actors." Oh. He's not talking about angels, he's talking about the illusion of good people. He's not talking about heaven, he's talking about the ideal. He's not talking about hell, he's talking about cold hard reality. "All the people you knew were the actors." He's talking about man. He's talking about you and me.
"Well I'll go to college and I'll learn some big words and I'll talk real loud. Goddamn right I'll be heard. You'll remember the guy who said all those big words he must have learned in college." Our protagonist is an idealist. We are all idealists. We all want to make a change, we all want to be important. We all want to be remembered. He will fight to not be the kind of person he has described before.
We continue, "and it took a long time until I came clean with myself. I'd grown clean out of love with my lover. I still love her, loved her more when she used to be sober and I was kinder." Our protagonist did not reach his goals. Our protagonist is a hypocrite. Our protagonist is not always rational and is driven by desire. Our protagonist is us, and we are all the same.
Please comment or give suggestions here or email to suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Sue's Last Ride
"Sue's Last Ride" by Dirty Three from Horse Stories
More than a lot of years ago I was at a rehearsal with a local singer/songwriter that I have played drums for on and off throughout the years. At the end of the rehearsal, said singer/songwriter handed me a CD and said "Have you heard of these guys? You've got to check them out. The Rolling Stones rated them as the best band in the world." To clarify that last statement, yes he did mean the band. I'm not sure where he got that information from, but apparently the Rolling Stones meant it. I should also state that he mentioned that as more of a note on where he got hip to them and not in an ultra Rolling Stones fan check out my lips tattoo kind of way.
The album was Horse Stories which I liked quite a lot, and this song jumped out at me right away as my favorite from the album. Fast forward a few years and I get to see Dirty Three at the Magic Stick in Detroit. For those that do not know the venue, the Magic Stick is one of those 'just small enough to have a bar, but not an upstairs' kind of places. If a group sells out a Magic Stick size venue, their next move is to an old church turned venue, and then to an old theater, etc. This place was pretty packed, and rightfully so, as the last time they were in the United States was seven years prior, when the guy that turned me on to them saw them at a now defunct venue by the name of Griff's Grill, which was a step or two down from the Magic Stick level in the venue food chain.
That night at the Magic Stick, Dirty Three performed "Sue's Last Ride." Warren Ellis, the violinist of the group, gave a similar speech to the one in the video above, but implied a bit more detail to the story. Sue was a friend who had died in a car and was there for two weeks before anyone found her. Ellis implied, or at least I took it, that Sue's last ride was those two weeks, alone in that car with nothing to do but atone for her life.
The song starts slowly, quietly, like you're waking up. Senses come into play, in and out, eventually they begin to focus. And then slowly, a realization that you are unsure where you are. Then you realize, you're in the car, which is perplexing. Your heart races for a moment. You're not sure why you're in the car. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, and then you realize, you're dead.
And you panic, and you can't breath, and you're not sure if you're supposed to breath, but it feels like your drowning, and eventually you realize that you're not going to die, because you're dead.
And then time starts to pass, and you start to remember, and it's hard, because inevitably it all leads up to right now. Every moment of it leads to now. And of course that means that some of it you'd rather not deal with even though those are the things you need to deal with.
And it builds, and it builds. It's like your past is tormenting you. Bigger and faster and more intense. Everything is flowing through you now. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, someone finds the car, and opens the door, and finds you, inside. dead.
And you get out of the car, and head on your way.
I don't know if Sue committed suicide. I kind of don't think so. I get the vibe that she had an accident and that she was hard to find. I however had a friend that did commit suicide in a car, so from time to time I think of him in relation to this song. I'm not a spiritual man, I do not believe in an afterlife, but, if I'm wrong, I would like to believe that people do have to atone for their life in a visceral painful way. I hope that we all have to face the parts of ourselves that we bury deep inside and build walls around, and I hope that if there is an afterlife we all enter it through catharsis and new without all the baggage we carry around during life.
As always feel free to comment here or send an email to suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
More than a lot of years ago I was at a rehearsal with a local singer/songwriter that I have played drums for on and off throughout the years. At the end of the rehearsal, said singer/songwriter handed me a CD and said "Have you heard of these guys? You've got to check them out. The Rolling Stones rated them as the best band in the world." To clarify that last statement, yes he did mean the band. I'm not sure where he got that information from, but apparently the Rolling Stones meant it. I should also state that he mentioned that as more of a note on where he got hip to them and not in an ultra Rolling Stones fan check out my lips tattoo kind of way.
The album was Horse Stories which I liked quite a lot, and this song jumped out at me right away as my favorite from the album. Fast forward a few years and I get to see Dirty Three at the Magic Stick in Detroit. For those that do not know the venue, the Magic Stick is one of those 'just small enough to have a bar, but not an upstairs' kind of places. If a group sells out a Magic Stick size venue, their next move is to an old church turned venue, and then to an old theater, etc. This place was pretty packed, and rightfully so, as the last time they were in the United States was seven years prior, when the guy that turned me on to them saw them at a now defunct venue by the name of Griff's Grill, which was a step or two down from the Magic Stick level in the venue food chain.
That night at the Magic Stick, Dirty Three performed "Sue's Last Ride." Warren Ellis, the violinist of the group, gave a similar speech to the one in the video above, but implied a bit more detail to the story. Sue was a friend who had died in a car and was there for two weeks before anyone found her. Ellis implied, or at least I took it, that Sue's last ride was those two weeks, alone in that car with nothing to do but atone for her life.
The song starts slowly, quietly, like you're waking up. Senses come into play, in and out, eventually they begin to focus. And then slowly, a realization that you are unsure where you are. Then you realize, you're in the car, which is perplexing. Your heart races for a moment. You're not sure why you're in the car. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, and then you realize, you're dead.
And you panic, and you can't breath, and you're not sure if you're supposed to breath, but it feels like your drowning, and eventually you realize that you're not going to die, because you're dead.
And then time starts to pass, and you start to remember, and it's hard, because inevitably it all leads up to right now. Every moment of it leads to now. And of course that means that some of it you'd rather not deal with even though those are the things you need to deal with.
And it builds, and it builds. It's like your past is tormenting you. Bigger and faster and more intense. Everything is flowing through you now. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, someone finds the car, and opens the door, and finds you, inside. dead.
And you get out of the car, and head on your way.
I don't know if Sue committed suicide. I kind of don't think so. I get the vibe that she had an accident and that she was hard to find. I however had a friend that did commit suicide in a car, so from time to time I think of him in relation to this song. I'm not a spiritual man, I do not believe in an afterlife, but, if I'm wrong, I would like to believe that people do have to atone for their life in a visceral painful way. I hope that we all have to face the parts of ourselves that we bury deep inside and build walls around, and I hope that if there is an afterlife we all enter it through catharsis and new without all the baggage we carry around during life.
As always feel free to comment here or send an email to suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
Saturday, May 15, 2010
No Children
Today we visit a 6/8 Irish ballad style song that paints a picture so filled with hate and so void of hope that the world the song creates collapses in on itself. For Dom, this is No Children by The Mountain Goats.
"No Children" by The Mountain Goats from Tallahassee
Note: There is no official video for this song. This is easily the best and most closely related fan video I've found by far.
"I hope our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us." - I already have
"I hope we come out with a failsafe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us" - How stupid are they?
"I hope the fences we mended fall down beneath their own weight" - Let's tear it all down.
"and I hope we hang on past the last exit. I hope it's already too late." - Full on 'till morning.
"And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down," - I hope it all burns down.
"and I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away and I never come back to this town again." - because I am done with this life.
"In my life I hope I lie and tell everyone you were a good wife." - because I am a better person than you.
"And I hope you die" - I hate you.
"I hope we both die" - You have ruined me.
"I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow. I hope it bleeds all day long." - It wouldn't matter. At least it's a different kind of pain.
"Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises, we're pretty sure they're all wrong." - They have no clue.
"I hope it stays dark forever. I hope the worst isn't over." - There is no point in anything ever getting better.
"and I hope you blink before I do." - 'cause Fuck you.
"and I hope I never get sober." - because then I'd have to deal with this.
"and I hope when you think of me years down the line you don't have one good thing to say." - Cause FUCK YOU and whatever the fuck YOU have to say about ME!
"and I'd hope that if I'd found the strength to walk out you'd stay the hell out of my way." - bet you wouldn't, cunt.
"I am drowning. There is no sign of land." - I've been swimming way too long.
"You are coming down with me. Hand in unlovable hand." - 'Till death ...
"And I hope you die." - I hope you die.
"I hope we both die." - I hope we both die.
"No Children" by The Mountain Goats from Tallahassee
Note: There is no official video for this song. This is easily the best and most closely related fan video I've found by far.
"I hope our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us." - I already have
"I hope we come out with a failsafe plot to piss off the dumb few that forgave us" - How stupid are they?
"I hope the fences we mended fall down beneath their own weight" - Let's tear it all down.
"and I hope we hang on past the last exit. I hope it's already too late." - Full on 'till morning.
"And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here someday burns down," - I hope it all burns down.
"and I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away and I never come back to this town again." - because I am done with this life.
"In my life I hope I lie and tell everyone you were a good wife." - because I am a better person than you.
"And I hope you die" - I hate you.
"I hope we both die" - You have ruined me.
"I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow. I hope it bleeds all day long." - It wouldn't matter. At least it's a different kind of pain.
"Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises, we're pretty sure they're all wrong." - They have no clue.
"I hope it stays dark forever. I hope the worst isn't over." - There is no point in anything ever getting better.
"and I hope you blink before I do." - 'cause Fuck you.
"and I hope I never get sober." - because then I'd have to deal with this.
"and I hope when you think of me years down the line you don't have one good thing to say." - Cause FUCK YOU and whatever the fuck YOU have to say about ME!
"and I'd hope that if I'd found the strength to walk out you'd stay the hell out of my way." - bet you wouldn't, cunt.
"I am drowning. There is no sign of land." - I've been swimming way too long.
"You are coming down with me. Hand in unlovable hand." - 'Till death ...
"And I hope you die." - I hope you die.
"I hope we both die." - I hope we both die.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Hard Life
We've done a lot of moving around and now it's time to get back to a more traditional type of suicide song. we're going back to our roots with Bonnie "Prince" Billy.
"Hard Life" by Bonnie "Prince" Billy from Master and Everyone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kG2PL2zO034
"...and it's a hard life for a man with no wife. Babe it's a hard life God makes you live." How true. How matter of fact. How reserved to being exactly that. Life is hard. Notice how the lyric opens as though it is continuing from the previous thought. It also feels like the end of the argument. Where does one go from there, how does one rationalize anything past that point? Having Trouble? Feeling Bad? Not Sure You Can Make It? Sorry bub, life is hard. "But without it Baby don't doubt it, you don't even have your tears to give." How true. The dead know one thing, that it is better to be alive.
"I wake up and I'm fine, with my dreaming still on my mind, but it don't take long you see, for the demons to come and visit me." Yeah. "And I've got my problems, sometimes love don't solve them," Does it ever? "And I end each day in a song." It's an interesting look at his day. It shows what the important parts, or maybe the lingering parts. The waking moment when everything is ok, the demons, the problems, and the end of the day with music as therapy to guide him safely through the night.
"I know I'm a hard man to live with sometimes. Maybe it ain't in me to make you a happy wife of mine." Six months or so ago I picked up a copy of Schulz and Peanuts, a Charles Schulz biography by David Michaelis. I am not a big peanuts fan, and I don't read a lot of biographies. I bought it because of an interview I heard with the author on NPR promoting the book. At one point he talked about a scene in the book wherein Schulz and his wife were newly married and they were driving to their honeymoon. (Unfortunately I haven't made it this far in the book yet so I am paraphrasing what I remember from the interview.) Schulz apparently turned to his wife sometime on this trip and said "I don't know if I'll ever be happy." This has to be an odd and hard thing to hear your husband say on the way to your honeymoon. What Schulz meant was not that he was regretting his new marriage. He was being honest and open. He was giving warning that he was a depressed individual. This statement in the song is the same thing. "And maybe you'll kill me, honey I don't blame you. If I was in your place maybe that's what I would do." This line gives me chills every time. The thought has crossed his mind that his wife might kill him and that's ok. He calls her 'honey' while abdicating her responsibility to him and his life. With his soothing tone and terms of endearment he's forgiving her before the fact.
Up to this point the music has been a standard Appalachia style duet. There's an acoustic guitar, bass, foot stomp percussion, and vocal. One could easily seeing a mournful country fiddle floating over the top of the texture. The song is in a major key, yet the vocals are sad, and during the chorus the vocals are harmonized by a female voice.
After the second verse the music changes. The music takes on a very minor feel. Not to get too music theory nerd on you, but it moves to Bb major, but it relies heavily on the C minor chord. Overall it is a very uneasy and transitory feel. The vocals reflect this. "I ain't breathing, let me breathe. Let me go. Let me leave." This continues and an electric guitar sneaks in, as well as a new harmonizing voice, the singer's own. The female voice has disappeared from the texture. The way that this section builds is amazing. It starts out meekly about someone saying they want to leave. As the character gets stronger so does the texture, the stronger electric guitar comes in and instead of being a tandem vocal it is all him. This is brilliant songwriting.
"Hard Life" now settles into the key of Bb Major, playing the same chord progression as the beginning of the song in the new key. The electric guitar plays a solo that evokes a western feel. If it were a western movie it would be the music where the main character first sets off on his adventure and everything is hopeful and new.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment here or at suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
Also make sure to check out the new CommunistDayCareCenter.Net!
"Hard Life" by Bonnie "Prince" Billy from Master and Everyone
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kG2PL2zO034
"...and it's a hard life for a man with no wife. Babe it's a hard life God makes you live." How true. How matter of fact. How reserved to being exactly that. Life is hard. Notice how the lyric opens as though it is continuing from the previous thought. It also feels like the end of the argument. Where does one go from there, how does one rationalize anything past that point? Having Trouble? Feeling Bad? Not Sure You Can Make It? Sorry bub, life is hard. "But without it Baby don't doubt it, you don't even have your tears to give." How true. The dead know one thing, that it is better to be alive.
"I wake up and I'm fine, with my dreaming still on my mind, but it don't take long you see, for the demons to come and visit me." Yeah. "And I've got my problems, sometimes love don't solve them," Does it ever? "And I end each day in a song." It's an interesting look at his day. It shows what the important parts, or maybe the lingering parts. The waking moment when everything is ok, the demons, the problems, and the end of the day with music as therapy to guide him safely through the night.
"I know I'm a hard man to live with sometimes. Maybe it ain't in me to make you a happy wife of mine." Six months or so ago I picked up a copy of Schulz and Peanuts, a Charles Schulz biography by David Michaelis. I am not a big peanuts fan, and I don't read a lot of biographies. I bought it because of an interview I heard with the author on NPR promoting the book. At one point he talked about a scene in the book wherein Schulz and his wife were newly married and they were driving to their honeymoon. (Unfortunately I haven't made it this far in the book yet so I am paraphrasing what I remember from the interview.) Schulz apparently turned to his wife sometime on this trip and said "I don't know if I'll ever be happy." This has to be an odd and hard thing to hear your husband say on the way to your honeymoon. What Schulz meant was not that he was regretting his new marriage. He was being honest and open. He was giving warning that he was a depressed individual. This statement in the song is the same thing. "And maybe you'll kill me, honey I don't blame you. If I was in your place maybe that's what I would do." This line gives me chills every time. The thought has crossed his mind that his wife might kill him and that's ok. He calls her 'honey' while abdicating her responsibility to him and his life. With his soothing tone and terms of endearment he's forgiving her before the fact.
Up to this point the music has been a standard Appalachia style duet. There's an acoustic guitar, bass, foot stomp percussion, and vocal. One could easily seeing a mournful country fiddle floating over the top of the texture. The song is in a major key, yet the vocals are sad, and during the chorus the vocals are harmonized by a female voice.
After the second verse the music changes. The music takes on a very minor feel. Not to get too music theory nerd on you, but it moves to Bb major, but it relies heavily on the C minor chord. Overall it is a very uneasy and transitory feel. The vocals reflect this. "I ain't breathing, let me breathe. Let me go. Let me leave." This continues and an electric guitar sneaks in, as well as a new harmonizing voice, the singer's own. The female voice has disappeared from the texture. The way that this section builds is amazing. It starts out meekly about someone saying they want to leave. As the character gets stronger so does the texture, the stronger electric guitar comes in and instead of being a tandem vocal it is all him. This is brilliant songwriting.
"Hard Life" now settles into the key of Bb Major, playing the same chord progression as the beginning of the song in the new key. The electric guitar plays a solo that evokes a western feel. If it were a western movie it would be the music where the main character first sets off on his adventure and everything is hopeful and new.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment here or at suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
Also make sure to check out the new CommunistDayCareCenter.Net!
Thursday, April 15, 2010
The River
In honor of Tax Day I figured we would examine a song that takes a look at the burden of the working man. This may not exactly be a suicide song, but it is about the crushing weight of the world one inherits when they grow up. Today we look at "The River" by America's working class hero, Bruce Springsteen
"The River" by Bruce Springsteen from The River
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAB4vOkL6cE
"The River" is a great song about growing up and realizing your responsibilities. We might not all have it as hard as the protagonist in this song, but we all have, have had, or will have those moments when you realize that you are the only one to shoulder the weight of your world and you might not be strong enough to carry it.
The river is the metaphor for the character's formerly carefree life. Driving to the river, swimming with Mary, and wasting his days are his most treasured memory. Not only was his time at the river the best time of his life, but the river was also where he would go to escape whatever troubles he was facing. That time was both his escape and his glory days, but as we all know glory days will pass you by in the wink of a young girls eye.
I'm going to keep this one short. I don't think I need to break down all the lyrics the way I usually do. I hope I've made my point already. There are two lyrics though that I'd like to look at.
"Now I just act like I don't remember, Mary acts like she don't care." I really think it speaks for itself, but I just wanted to point it out. I think it is the most telling statement of the song. Like laughing at something that makes you uncomfortable, we all have memories that dismiss as not bothering us, yet they eat us like acid from the inside out.
"That sends me down to the river though I know the river is dry." You can't go home again. You can't go back the way you came. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Things will never be the same, and they can't ever be. There is nothing I would rather do than be able to reconcile with my past, but I can't, because it is all I have left. "That sends me down to the river tonight."
I'm not one to hang on to the past, or at least I make a conscious effort to not live in it. I'll tell you one thing though, I would love to live in the summer I was 19, forever. I lived at home. I had completed a year of college and had decided that I was never going back. I was working at a local music store and making money under the table, as well as having next to no bills. I could do whatever I wanted. I remember one time in particular, riding home in a friend's car, (to identify it if he is reading: the car with the heart transplant), from a midnight movie at some local independent movie theater and thinking this is it, nothing will ever be better. Soon after, the responsibility started to pile on. They've never receded. They've always grown. Springsteen goes to the river. I go to the intersection of Woodward and Long Lake.
As always feel free to leave comments or suggestions here or at suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
"The River" by Bruce Springsteen from The River
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nAB4vOkL6cE
"The River" is a great song about growing up and realizing your responsibilities. We might not all have it as hard as the protagonist in this song, but we all have, have had, or will have those moments when you realize that you are the only one to shoulder the weight of your world and you might not be strong enough to carry it.
The river is the metaphor for the character's formerly carefree life. Driving to the river, swimming with Mary, and wasting his days are his most treasured memory. Not only was his time at the river the best time of his life, but the river was also where he would go to escape whatever troubles he was facing. That time was both his escape and his glory days, but as we all know glory days will pass you by in the wink of a young girls eye.
I'm going to keep this one short. I don't think I need to break down all the lyrics the way I usually do. I hope I've made my point already. There are two lyrics though that I'd like to look at.
"Now I just act like I don't remember, Mary acts like she don't care." I really think it speaks for itself, but I just wanted to point it out. I think it is the most telling statement of the song. Like laughing at something that makes you uncomfortable, we all have memories that dismiss as not bothering us, yet they eat us like acid from the inside out.
"That sends me down to the river though I know the river is dry." You can't go home again. You can't go back the way you came. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here. Things will never be the same, and they can't ever be. There is nothing I would rather do than be able to reconcile with my past, but I can't, because it is all I have left. "That sends me down to the river tonight."
I'm not one to hang on to the past, or at least I make a conscious effort to not live in it. I'll tell you one thing though, I would love to live in the summer I was 19, forever. I lived at home. I had completed a year of college and had decided that I was never going back. I was working at a local music store and making money under the table, as well as having next to no bills. I could do whatever I wanted. I remember one time in particular, riding home in a friend's car, (to identify it if he is reading: the car with the heart transplant), from a midnight movie at some local independent movie theater and thinking this is it, nothing will ever be better. Soon after, the responsibility started to pile on. They've never receded. They've always grown. Springsteen goes to the river. I go to the intersection of Woodward and Long Lake.
As always feel free to leave comments or suggestions here or at suicidesongs@communistdaycarecenter.net
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