“tell me about a moment, a song
and what it meant to you”

Blog: SHEENA BEASTON Song: Blak Pudd’n Artist: SWV (It’s About Time, 1992) Context: Coming from a modest family, we didn’t purchase albums, rather, after having been given a stack of “found” blank cassette tapes, I resorted to positioning myself in front of an unneccesarily large dual tape head monster, for hours on end, recording songs from the radio. One instance sticks out like no other, and that was the initial radioplay of SWV’s Blak Pudd’n. After securing a scratchy yet embraceable recording of the beat and bass heavy jam, I immediately rushed for paper and pencil, to write the overtly and sexually suggestive lyrics down. After many hours of “pushing play, stop and rewind”, the complete vocals were logged. Result:  I played the song nonstop, rehearsing the cadence and flow with preteen precision. I got really good at it too. So good in fact, that in one moment of busting through the lyrics “cause women in the 90′s want more from a brother, than a part time lover, who’s wack under cover…”, my mom overheard and instantly extracted the tape from my tight grasp. I have no idea where that tape is now, but thank god for digital media, and it’s allowance of my frequent plays of this song. 17 years later, I still know every single word.

Blog: LOST AT SEA Song: Magic Doors Artist: Portishead (Third, 2008) Context: Third appeared in my music rotation thanks to a close friend, and I must admit that at the time I was not that excited about listening to it. I was a fan of Portishead’s Live in NYC disc, but not much else at that point. However, throughout the first spin the somber beauty of the record was evident, as every track seemed to build upon the emotional turmoil wrought throughout. “Magic Doors” fully hit me on a train journey from Bratislava to Berlin, as I desperately tried to break free of not only myself, but the world that appeared to be crumbling around me. Result: “Magic Doors” is both a tragedy and a triumph. If you’ve never felt the anguish that Beth Gibbons displays in this song then I both envy and loathe you, as you’ve probably had a reasonably pleasant life, yet haven’t truly experienced the full range of human emotion. You are missing an important piece of clarity regarding self, and an extremely critical component of who you are as a person. Throughout the track Gibbons’ trembling lyrics cut deep, as she questions who she has become in a world that doesn’t seem to care. The song also displays one of the most unorthodox but effective horn solos I’ve ever encountered. I didn’t know what to make of it at first, but now it’s obvious: the horn is trying to break free from thought, from reality, from itself. However, end the end it realizes this action is futile, and through some bitter and disturbing contemplation the horn finds itself once again. In a world where hegemonic confidence reigns supreme and those (from political leaders to corporate executives to Kanye West) don’t seem to question the idiotic decisions that they make on a daily basis, the fact that introspection and self-examination still exist in displaced areas of the musical world is reassuring. Maybe society would benefit from listening to a little more “Magic Doors” and little less “Stronger”.

Blog: THE BLUE WALRUS Song: Show Artist: Beth Gibbons & Rustin’ Man (Out of Season, 2003) Context: About midway through my first year at university, and having been suffering various symptoms that were preventing me from going out and socializing and doing a lot of the things that make that time in your life so exciting, I eventually found my way to the doctors surgery. Over the next few weeks I was given a battery of tests with none conclusive, meaning that they wanted to do some virology tests, but with the extraordinarily high white blood cell count and other symptoms the doctor felt the need to tell me to consider the possibility of how I may have contracted HIV and anyone I may have infected, but the tests would be back in a few day. My mind raced going over and over any possibilities, but being unable to bring myself to tell any of my new university friends that I had only known a few months or my parents for the stigma attached, increasingly isolating myself. I would listen to this as the simple, crawling piano and haunting vocals helped me to slow my thoughts,and open myself to the possibility of letting others in. Result: My friends could not have been more supportive and held my hand through the results process. Although the results were negative and my illness treatable for which I was elated, but strangely emotionally even more comforting was that I knew that they would be there whatever the news was and I realized how lucky that made me.This song reminds me of that comfort of close friends.

Blog: RACHEL AND THE CITY Song: So Much Pain (ft Luther Dickingson) Artist: Star & Micey (S/T, 2009) Context: This past year has been extremely hard for me as I have had to watch someone very close to me struggle with a very serious drug addiction. If you have ever had to go through this then I am sure you know how incredibly stressful it is. Over the last few months as I have gotten ready for the release of the new Star & Micey album, one song in particular has resonated with me. It’s actually written about someone close to singer Josh Crosby that had a drug problem and ended up going to jail. The song, /So Much Pain/, has been very comforting to me. Result: When I shared the song with the person in my life with the drug problem – it really affected him and I am happy to say that at the beginning of this month he entered into a 60 day treatment program and is doing really well. Who knows what the future may hold, but it is always amazing to me how much music can make a difference in our lives.

Blog: BLENDETTA Song: Retreat Artist: The Rakes (Capture/Release, 2005) Context: It was four years ago. I had graduated from college two years prior and was dealing with the ramifications of a useless degree and a life that wasn’t turning out quite the way I pictured. I was working in a record store, which was simultaneously the most fun job I could’ve hoped for, and a daily reminder that my hopes and dreams were becoming something of a lost cause. But the fact that I was making no money, working crap hours, and dealing with more high school drama than the set of a VH1 reality show, seemed relatively normal when all my friends were similarly dissatisfied. Life was commiserating about bad jobs and confusing relationships and going out dancing as much as possible. Getting off work at 10:00pm didn’t seem so bad when life didn’t even start until midnight. The music that accompanied those nights usually belonged to the mid 2000s Britpop revival scene. This was the era of Arctic Monkeys’ “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” and Hard-Fi’s “Living For the Weekend” – songs that seemed to celebrate the life I was living. It all had a tendency to blur together into one big musical sentiment of “Work sucks, romance is hard, but a great night out can fix everything.” And while I think that was the glamorous ideal, the one that got you through the day and turned the night six shades of neon, it wasn’t necessarily the reality. The reality was, of course, a lot messier and a lot harder to find in a song that was meant to get asses shaking on the dancefloor. Which is why I was so taken aback the first time I heard The Rakes’ “Retreat” on some random NME comp. The song was fairly simple, but perfectly conveyed happiness mixed with despair, glamour interspersed with a complete lack thereof — the knowledge that at some point, this will all change and being deeply fearful of what that really means. “Walk home, come down, retreat to sleep. Wake up, go out again, repeat.” The idea couldn’t be more simply put, but this is exactly where I was during that portion of my life. “I don’t want to miss out on anything, at the same time I feel the need to retreat…Everything is temporary these days, might as well go out for the third night in a row.” Perhaps it isn’t the most poetic line ever written, but nothing could’ve summed it up quite so accurately. Result: My life changed a lot over the past few years. I suppose I did what most people do – gave up on the things that weren’t working out, got a much better job (or at least a job that pays much better), did quite a bit of growing up. There’s a part of me that deeply misses the years I spent racing from retail hell to indie club bliss. The lack of responsibilities, the feeling that there was always something exciting going on – in a lot of ways, I was much happier then. It actually makes me a bit sad to listen to “Retreat” now, reminding me of a life I don’t lead anymore. But, at the same time, I realize there’s a tendency to romanticize those parts of our lives. Sure, the nights were a hell of a lot of fun, but the days were often kind of miserable. Which is essentially what “Retreat” is about. I was sad then too; I just didn’t admit it as much.

::Click here to read past song/context/result series::

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“tell me about a moment, a song
and what it meant to you”

Song: Out of Gas by Modest Mouse [Lonesome Crowded West, 2002]

Context: I got this song from a much cooler Californian exchange student in college who taped her entire Modest Mouse catalog for me on two 90 minute tapes the night before she moved out of the dorms. These tapes changed all my musical expectations and broadened my tastes into this whole new genre of “indie rock.” At the time I got the tapes I was going through a difficult emotional time, just coping with growing up and all that stuff.

Result: Playing this tape over and over, and this song especially, sent a shock through me that other people really knew how I was feeling and gave me something to emphatically sing along to when I was staying up by myself all night in my dorm room. I don’t know if the end result was positive, because I sure did wallow a lot in late-night self-pity, but it really did feel good at the time. I still get really into it every time I hear it and it remains one of my all-time favorites.

brooklyn’s au revoir simone are three ladies on three keyboards, harmonizing through flirtatious pop melodies and vintage drum machines, creating soft music together. their two intimate albums may be found in the usa on their own private label our secret record company and in the uk on moshi moshi records.

listen:

stay golden
fallen snow {the teenagers remix}

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brooklyn’s jeremy haines and sammy rubin are known as the collaboration project jenny, project jan. together with a computer and vocals, they have created their own eclectic style of music called “electro-kareoke” by mixing colorful and animated vocals over pure funk and hip hop samples. these two talented gentlemen recently just got back from touring with fujiya & miyagi and were instantly adored as they entertained the audience with their vivacious energy and special visual art films that displayed in the background.  at the end of summer 2007, they released their first full-length album, XOXOXOXOX, that may be found on might records.  

l i s t e n

train track
320

junior hyness of project jenny, project jan kindly shared his own moment about a song and memory. 

Song: Back to Black
by Amy Winehouse [Back to Black, 2007]

Context: Me and Rubin had just played a show in Dartmouth the night before and hadn’t really slept much. We were driving back to NYC through the autumnal countryside bullshitting and listening to tunes, drastically hung over. This song came on and we both shut up and listened. About halfway through we both said outloud, “This song is fucking amazing.” We then listened to it again, back to back.

Result: I think the song reminded us that being in love with someone is really cool until you are confronted with the fact that this person is leaving you and then you think about the dark places that you will be going to (and the bad things you will, in turn be doing to yourself) if this person is no longer in your life. Thats a pretty strong emotion and the song seems to capture it perfectly.

images by project jenny, project jan

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Covert Curiosity
Song: The Iraq War
by The Black Angels [Passover, 2006]

Context: I was late in picking up the Black Angels’ latest album Passover, even though they are local and I try to hear any new local production as soon as possible. I listened through most of it in the car on my way home from the record store, and left it in the cd player for a few days to give it a closer inspection as time allowed.

Result: Around the same time I received the horrible news that a close friend had been killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq. He was another casualty of the war that had already taken the life of thousands of American soldiers and countless Iraqi citizens. I was angry. I wanted this war to be over, right that second. The Black Angels disc was still in the cd player, but it had gone silent. Not long after I realized this, a hidden track at the end of the album called “The Iraq War” started playing, and it summed up my thoughts on the war right then and there. The words “Somebody please stop that war” are as heavy today as they were over 12 months ago. Is anyone listening?

The Modern Music
Song:The Invisible Worm
by Cul de Sac [Ecim, 1992]

Context: It was a cold winter, I cried and cried, because I was in a very hard situation where I made a terrible mistake and there’s no going back, then this was the song that got my attention during a heavy experimental playlist. The song was crying like me, it was like a brainstorm to fuck all the difficulties in this life.

Result: I used to walk with music in my ears, but I can’t stand to with a random music mix. There is nothing better than a well adjusted emotional playlist. And music, it really is my best friend. The other day I was feeling good because of this song and its old memory. The Invisible Worm sounds like a great and terrible beauty, and makes you know that you are not the only one!

———-

The AlternaKids
Song: T.O.J.
by EL-P [Fantastic Damage, 2002]

Context: After listening to this song hundreds of times before, I finally truly heard it for the first time.

Result: Not a condemnation as much as a sigh of relief for further tragedies avoided… I came to terms and no longer lamented the love that fell apart, but genuinely believed it was better to have loved and lost, and even more so to have learned from the experience and do some long hard thinking about what I want out of future relationships.

Vinyl Mine
Song: Institutionalized
by Suicidal Tendencies [Suicidal Tendencies, 1983]

Context: A crowded loft, all kinds of mayhem up front, the singer with a bandanna pulled over his face, jeans hanging low, skateboard rattling on top of the speakers, the familiar swinging of guitars like those metallic oil mines you see when driving through Texas,  water pouring out of his face, and off of everyone around me adding only to the humid decrepitude that was Baltimore in the one nine eighters. The 1-hit wonder song everyone on the East coast knew first from that soundtrack, I guess I sure did, turned the already maddened crowd into a full out combat zone, clodhoppers flying, dust singing along with the refrain “I’m not crazy / your driving me crazy“, arms swinging like helicopters, sweat rising like bullets into the shadows of the ceiling, pushing, yelling and screaming. The band, only a few months from being outed and condemned by the faithless faithful (metal sellouts, what else?), seeing the sheer power that just one song can have, played it cool like bands did, pushing stage divers off the stage with their boots, guitars and elbows. That night, we were prostrate in front of the band – who cares if we were calling them metal sellouts the next year and boycotting their shows.

Result: Did it make me feel, you ask?  No, it did the exact opposite. I felt even more out of it than before, not-feel was the feeling, my own-ly friends, that crowd of people I’ll never see again but okdokie with the timespacefeel of the song. That song despised now as being too OBVIOUS as a representative song of the era but even now remains as the little tiny LARGE raging encapsulation of what I and everyone in that room felt in that night long ago.  We pushed out from there, we went on and made money, committed suicides, got into our own bands, lived, married, had kids, murdered, joked, grew fat, and discovered great art in my own little misfit cusp-borne retread punk idiot generation.

artwork by robert carter

thankyou truly to those who have kindly collaborated
on song / context / result
[.i ii iii iv v vi.]

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Benzaiten Music
Song: Sound and Vision
by David Bowie [Sound & Vision, 1989]

Context: After 4 years of living in Los Angeles, I was in a rut. Feeling stuck, like I wasn’t moving forward, and wasn’t moving backwards. “Pale blinds drawn all day / Nothing to do, nothing to say / Blue, blue” I had just been laid off from what at the time I considered to be a dream job as an executive at a major record label. I needed something to push me forward in the direction I needed to go, but so many of my fears of failure and rejection due to the recent bout with my expendability in my career, kept me from seeing that direction. I had a friend who was an avid skydiver and had been trying to convince me to go, and me being terrified of heights(as well as everything else) laughed at her. A re-occurring nightmare of mine was me falling downwards through the sky.

One night, I was driving home from a weak interview for a job I really couldn’t get excited about, and this song came on. The beginning where it sounds like a descent and the lyrics “I will sit right down, waiting for the gift of sound and vision / And I will sing, waiting for the gift of sound and vision / Drifting into my solitude, over my head” changed my decision about skydiving. In right then and there, all of a sudden I could see myself happily free falling and I got the most intense feeling of freedom. I called my friend and told her to sign me up for the following weekend. And I did it. This song was a sign, a wake up call. I was “waiting for my gift of Sound and Vision” and there it was.

Result: I did the one thing that I feared most in life, falling, I jumped out of a plane from 13,000 feet in the air but this time I landed safely. It was the most intense feeling of freedom and strength. I proved to myself that I am capable of ANYTHING. The strength that I would never open up to before, emerged. The following week I landed what is ACTUALLY my dream job at an independent record label, helping musicians make a living and get the exposure they want for their music without getting screwed by corporate label executives. I was going against every job I had once held, but I took a chance and I, as well as the label, are creatively and passionately thriving now. I face everything that comes to me, and look for chances. I’m not afraid anymore because I’ve already done what scares me most and I survived. When I hear this song now I automatically flash back to not just the dive, but the moment that I realized that I needed to do it and that instant sense of strength and freedom that I have had ever since I made that one decision because of that song.

An Aquarium Drunkard
Song: A Horse With No Name
by America [America, 1972]

Context: Atlanta, GA: Imagine a sunny, hot, humid, July day in in the year 1992. I was barely 16, armed with a drivers license, and the sense of freedom (both literal and metaphorical) that comes with it. I had made a deal with my parents that if they would help me out financially with getting a car that I would, in turn, cut my hair. It was on the way back from getting this haircut that I (woops) ran a red light and crashed into a brand new BMW operated by a yuppie soccer mom. America’s “A Horse With No Name” was playing on the classic rock station as my brakes locked up and I skidded through the intersection awaiting impact.

Result: I can’t hear that song without a) cringing, and b) turning it off. Anyway, America were Neil Young rip offs, and I, obviously, had no business behind the wheel of a car.

——–

Bushwick is Beautiful
Song: Step Down
by Jessamine [Long Arm of Coincidence, 1996]

Context: Seattle 1997, 3am. Listening to community radio (KEXP) driving around in the rain. Right up the street where Kurt purchased the weapon that would end his life. That area always seemed to be surreal in itself, and that night was no exception. When the radio is turned on and all of us are immediately locked into the speakers with the opening drone “ahhh the ocean, I lost you“.

Result: We didn’t speak or move until the song let up. The DJ came on after the song and said that was a track from a great Northwest band called Jessamine. This song gave me the same sensation of what it was like to play music. I became hooked on what seemed like my own little secret band. The band has since broke up, but they will always be a personal favorite that I would like to share with anyone willing to listen.

Culture Bully
Song: Glory & Consequence
by Ben Harper [The Will to Live, 1997]

Context: Though his last few releases have been hit or miss Ben Harper’s 1997  album ‘The Will To Live’ carries itself as a strong set, one which introduced Harper to a wider audience as it was his first ever charting release. One of the most touching and inspiring songs on the album is “Glory & Consequence;” in it Harper battles his own insecurities and confronts his fears – something that I’ve found great solace in over the years.  One of the most difficult things that a person has to confront is losing love and without any reservation, I associate this song with those feelings. Mere months after graduating high school, I found myself in a new country, deep in a stranglehold of love. I look back, having recently found myself feeling those emotions again and again found reprieve in Harper’s words, “I would rather me be lonely and you have someone to hold / I’m not as scared of dying as I am of growing old.“

Result: Something deep beneath the surface of Harper’s lyrics is a sound that comforts me and that sentiment is no more truthful than with this song. “Glory and Consequence” is a song that I first heard driving around one night knowing that things were souring with my girlfriend and it consoled me, helping me understand that the feelings I had were normal and it was alright to let go. Now I find myself letting go again and the soundtrack, it seems, hasn’t changed.

Song, by Toad
Song: Fresh Feeling
by Eels [Souljacker, 2001]

Context: I met a girl a few years ago who was in a fairly dark place, having just emerged from the long, slow, tortuous demise of a five year relationship that had been finally put to death only a few weeks earlier. We met in London, although she was an Edinburgh girl, got completely plastered and ended up in bed together. Insisting that she just wanted a fling, we arranged to go out to my folks’ house in France for a long weekend (1p flights on Ryanair) in about a month’s time, but we were so excited we just couldn’t wait. A bank holiday happened to fall two weeks prior to our arranged date and, unable to restrain ourselves any more, I hopped on a train up to Edinburgh that Friday. We were both so nervous we drank ourselves silly and neither of us can really remember our first proper night together at all.

The following morning, after a long, slow, and deeply naughty few hours in bed we were sitting in the bath where we had been arguing about politics – classic first date stuff, of course. Anyhow, we both agreed on many things, but it was our mutual ability to argue our points on the things on which we disagreed and a disinclination to back down just to please the other that had us both rosy cheeked and grinning with satisfaction as the conversation quietened down. In that lull, on came Fresh Feeling with its perfectly appropriate lyrics: “Try, try to forget/ what’s in the past/ tomorrow is here./ Love, orange sky above/ lighting your way/ there’s nothing to fear” before breaking into the chorus: “Words can’t be that strong/ my heart is reeling/ this is that fresh/ that fresh feeling.” Having talked ourselves out we just sat there in the cooling bathwater unable to do anything but hold hands and grin at one another like fools.

Result: Well, maybe things could have turned out better.  But buggered if I know how!

Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before
Song: The Fool On The Hill
by The Beatles [Magical Mystery Tour, 1967]

Context: In preparation for a long coach journey on a college trip to Paris, I carefully taped a couple of my ‘Ministry Of Sound’ compilations onto cassettes (Everyone seemed to be listening to that kind of music at the time). Then as an after-thought I packed a cassette my dad had made of The Beatles’ Blue Album (I guess I was wondering what all the fuss was with that Liverpool band from the 60s). Halfway through the picturesque French countryside, the coach broke down and we were all confined in our painfully small seats for nearly four hours. So I took out my cassette player, put on The Beatles and soon became lost in the magical productions and psychedelic imagery.

I distinctly remember one song on the album that I played and played during my stay in Paris (I probably almost wore the tape out) and that was ‘The Fool On The Hill’. I spent hours trying in vain to fathom the meaning of the words. Was it about a real person, a religious figure, a politician, a pop-star? I never managed to put my finger on it and perhaps I never will, but it’s fun trying to work it out.

Result: After exploring the huge Beatles catalogue I inevitably went onto Oasis, then Led Zeppelin, Manic Street Preachers, The White Stripes, Morrissey etc. Now I’m totally hooked on music and addicted to finding new and exciting artists. It’s all thanks to ‘The Fool On The Hill’ for showing me how a song can completely capture your imagination. Incidentally those ‘Ministry Of Sound’ compilations never came out of the boxes and never have since.

artwork by kathleen lolley

thankyou truly to those who have kindly collaborated
on song / context / result
[.i ii iii iv v.]

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“tell me about a moment, a song
and what it meant to you”

memories hurt and can feel so good at the same time.

in a sense, song/context/result continues.. and this special blogger series keeps circling because to musicisart, its important for things to be personal and its inspiring to know in some way that we are all not alone. the only hope for this entire cathartic project is by sharing meaningful experiences, it gives a sense of satisfaction that its alright to feel different emotions and to let go.

thankyou truly to those who have kindly collaborated
on song / context / result
[.i ii iii iv.]

muzzle of bees
Song: Never Let Go
by Tom Waits [Orphans: Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards 2006]

Context: It was Christmas, my first time home with my girlfriend. I’m from a small, so small it’s hard sometimes to call it, home. I had gotten the Tom Waits’ Orphans box set from my parents and, like always when I’m back in that small town – I grab my CD’s and drive the endless countryside sorting out my thoughts.

I’d lost my grandmother about two years ago and she spoke once before she died about how she hoped her children and grandchildren would always remember to visit her on Christmas. It was on those winding country roads that eventually lead me back to the city I call home, that the second disc of the aforementioned Tom Waits box set was sound tracking. As I neared the city and cemetery, I sheepishly sprung my stop on my girlfriend and navigated the severely snowed over roads until I got close.

I paid my respects and did my best to keep my composure as I returned to the car. That’s when the song “Never Let Go” came over the stereo which finds Waits’ proclaiming he’ll “never let go of your hand.” This was my first time hearing the song, and while I don’t know why this song moved me so, (or is currently providing goose bumps as I write about it) but it opened the floodgates as tears began to pour from my eyes.

Result: Over the next several minutes as I drove in silence, holding my girlfriends hand, my head was filled with those perfect childhood memories of a boy and his grandmother – those filled with cookie jars and small amounts of cash pressed into your hand that made you feel rich enough to own the world. As time passes, it’s easy to forget those who so profoundly touched your life once they’ve passed on. This song in helped me remember.

——–

indiechristoph
Song: Dear Sons And Daughters of Hungry Ghosts
by Wolf Parade [Apologies to the Queen Mary, 2005]

Context: In November of last year, I went on a trip with the rest of my class. I don’t even remember what we were doing that day–it was a pointless excursion, but it got us out of math class nonetheless. Have you ever had that feeling when you can’t find the right song for the right moment? Well, I was sitting on the bus ride home, my iPod in my hand, trying to find the perfect tune–of course, I wasn’t getting anywhere.

Result: But then–an echo of guitars bounced into my ears, and when I looked around, I saw people laughing, smiling, sipping their coffee. The snow started to fall outside, and it seemed so peaceful. They fell down to the ground so slowly, so delicately. And when I looked back at the people sitting around me, chattering and screaming without a single sound, I felt at peace. When those guitars jangled their minor chords, it seemed so right. And to that, I toasted my ten dollar cup of mud, and sank lower into the rubber-fabricated chair.

the yellow stereo
Song: Viðrar Vel til Loftárása
by Sigur Ros [Ágætis byrjun, 1999]

Context: Almost one year ago to the day, I was sitting alone at home the night just after witnessing the final moments of my father’s life slip away earlier before my eyes. I played this song that night as it had always been such an emotional song for me to listen to and I just wanted to get everything out…to let everything go. I’m listening to it at this very moment as it’s been almost that entire year since I had last poured my emotions out because of it.

Result: One of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever listened to. It had always been a song that could evoke different emotions whether it would be of sadness or happiness. After that night I could never listen to it again without feeling that sadness and it will be forever associated with that moment in time for as long as I live. It’s a feeling I never want to have again for a very long time but it’s something one could never avoid. From the soft hint of the delicately played piano in the beginning until the massive build-up of the end that kills me everytime I hear it.

——–

gimme tinnitus
Song: Stormy Weather
by Pixies [Bossanova, 2003]

Context: Driving in the rain near the house where I grew up.

Result: Now whenever I hear that song, the shape of the exit ramp I was driving on pops into my mind… and then I can almost smell the cigarette smoke/vanilla-roma essence that enveloped my car in those days. It happens every time I hear it.

jefitoblog
Song: Hey Jude
by The Beatles [Hey Jude, 1969]

Context: During the summer of 1999, I took my ex-girlfriend and her mother on an all-expenses-paid trip to Europe. We’d broken up before getting anywhere near a plane, but the tickets were paid for, and it seemed like it made more sense to go than to stay home. Hindsight is 20/20, of course, and it wound up being an awful, depressing trip, full of bad times and bad vibes.

By the time we got to Rome, I was more than ready to go home. We were staying at a hotel at the top of the Spanish Steps, and one night, in a fit of utter misery, I walked out, found a step, and glumly people-watched; I had nowhere else to go.

Result: One guy, in the middle of the crowd, had an acoustic guitar that he kept fooling around with — little bits of this song or that. At a certain point, he started playing “Hey Jude,” and it turned into a singalong. First his friends, then the people around them, and then, finally, seemingly everybody on the whole damn Spanish Steps was singing chorus after chorus of “Hey Jude” in neverending unison. The cops came and broke it up at midnight, but I went to bed with a smile on my face.

——–

sand is overrated
Song: Desire
by U2 [Rattle and Hum, 1988]

Context: From the very beginning of my junior year in college, my sights were set on march and the 1998 ncaa division ii national championship swim meet. Every 5:30am swim practice, every 2pm swim practice, every swim meet leading up to march, I reminded myself that my goal was to win the 100 yard backstroke on the biggest stage I would ever face. Finally, after 6 months of anticipation, the moment arrived. Like every big competition in swimming or track and field, every swimmer entered swims in preliminary heats in the morning and the top eight swimmers advance to the finals that take place later that evening. My good fortune had me as the top seed after the prelims, and one of the perks that came along with that was the choice of a song that would be played as the finalists marched in line out onto the pool deck and to their starting blocks. After some thought, “desire” by U2 came to me and I knew that there was no other choice. And so it was that later that evening, as the other seven finalists and I paraded out to our position, the edge’s opening guitar riff and bono’s simple “yeah!” signaled that I was ready to fulfill a year’s worth of dedication and hard work. It was loud, it was inspiring, it was perfect. I knew, as I entered the water to begin my race, that there was only way this could end. Swimmers, take your mark. [beep!]

Result: 1998 NCAA Division II National Champion, 100 yard backstroke.

——–

feed me good tunes
Song: Feed Me
by Reef [Replenish, 1995]

Context: The battered cd that carried me around Europe in the summer of 2000. It was my 18th birthday, and I stood in a large crowd in Pamplona’s old town, fenced in on either side by high, thick wooden barricades. This song was ringing in my ears as they released the bulls, and we ran uphill, along the cobbled, narrow streets of old town, the bulls chasing us every last step into the arena at the top of the hill.

Result: Sheer euphoria, perhaps at the thought of growing up, becoming a man. There I was, lost in the masses yet every bit an individual, my feral yells mixing with the heavy guitars and the frantic drumming of hooves and boot-clad feet against the wet stone.

artwork by ryan rubis

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..”tell me about a moment,
a song and what it meant to you“..

thankyou to these always inspiring music writers
for sharing their meaningful contributions
and for being apart of this special blogger project series

be sure to see song / context / result :: part I, II, III.
[.please visit next week for more.]

motel de moka 
Song: You Love Me
by Devotchka [How it ends, 2004]

Context: He tells me about his trips around our country, his travelling ambition and all the distance he wants to go through. He wants adventures. He’s a wild bird and I can’t tame him. We’ve been together for one year and a half but seeing him talk and actually paying attention to every detail in the way his eyes glow and the things he says makes me understand that his way of thinking has become dramatically different from the way he used to think and that we’ve slowly become bored with this pointless relationship. We’ve been drinking whiskey and rum all night. He’s cheating on me. He never told me. You just know these kinds of things. We get in his car and he plays an album I gave him for his birthday. The prophetically called “how it ends” by Devotchka.

Result: He’s still talking about something but I’m not listening anymore. I’m looking at him and I’m paying attention to the lead-off track, “you love me”. There’s violence, doubt, lack, regret and end inside the song. It’s sad and it’s beautiful. I’m crying silently while looking at him but he’s too drunk to notice. He takes me to my house and when we get there I hug him as strong as I can until I notice I’ve been hugging him for too long and he’s feeling uncomfortable. I tell him I love him and he answers back “me too” unconvincingly. There’s an awkward silence and I get out of his car. The next day he takes a spontaneous 2 month trip and when he comes back, he never called me or came to my house. It’s been 2 years since that night. I found through a friend that he’s been in a serious relationship with some hippie girl I knew in primary school. Sometimes when the phone rings I realize that I miss him, I miss the way we made love (the only thing we could agree on) and that I’m still waiting for him. I rarely play Devotchka anymore.

comfort music
Song: Digging in the Dirt
by Peter Gabriel [Secret World Live, 1994]

Context: Many years ago, riding home alone on the red line in Chicago, just after dawn, strung out from a long evening doing acid and tending to a friend whose own acid trip had gone severely dark.

Result: The song lyrics seemed to encapsulate what I thought I’d seen my friend go through… “digging in the dirt/stay with me I need support”… except that I eventually couldn’t take it and had to leave. “Digging in the dirt/to find the places I got hurt, to open up the places I got hurt”… well, he was on his own at that point; he seemed to find all those places, but I couldn’t stick around to help him close them all up again.  Listening to that song on my headphones, trying to shut out the world, I just felt relief.

 ——–

can you see the sunset
Song: Everybody Wants To Rule The World
by Tears For Fears [Songs from the Big Chair, 1985]

Context: The summer of 1985. I’m only 7 years old but I already know that my parents are well on their way to separating. I heard this song many times on my father’s boat that summer where my mother was noticeably absent. I can smell the combination of sunscreen, water, and sand. I can feel the warmth of the setting sun and see its red-orange glow. I can’t remember a time when my parents were happy together.

Result: I’ve blocked out a lot of childhood memories. I don’t want my daughter to have to do the same.

rewriteable content
Song: Day After Tomorrow
by Tom Waits [Real Gone, 2004]

Context: Driving down the coast from San Francisco to Santa Barbara with a car full of friends, after a perfect weekend up north, rain hitting the windshield and everyone but me asleep.

Result: Wishing someone would play this song to the war mongers in Washington, and wondering why I get to enjoy my life while others are sent to die.

——–

yeti dont dance
Song: Come to Love
by Matthew Sweet [100% Fun, 1995]

Context: As a freshman in high school in 1995, I decided it would be a grand idea to join the school’s Ski Race team, even with wobbly newborn giraffe knees. On the way home each night, tired from the cold/ the exertion/ the trail mix, we would sit silently on the bus in the dark and relax.

Result: One particular night, a fellow skier playfully congregated with another friend and informed her -inaccurately I still protest- that I had a crush on her. My complaints failing to convince either of them, I sunk into the corner of the seat and drowned in the darkness with this song. It wasn’t until many years later that I understood the irony of this particular selection.

——–

lonesome music
Song: I Want You
by Elvis Costello [Blood & Chocolate, 1986]

Context: The first track on the first album I ever bought, it cost me £1.99 from Ramsgate (UK) Woolworths on tape. It’s late 1986 and the album is already in the bargain bin. I was 14 years old. Prior to that I’d been listening to copies of albums done for me by friends or taped shows off the radio (top forty, Janice long, John Peel). I was in the throes of the testosterone frenzy and wild hormonal flux that magnifies all emotions to giddy heights and desperate depths. All love is unrequited, and even when it’s not, there is always an imbalance in want and need. So what I wanted was a love song of desperation, of abandonment, of high drama. A self-flagellating, flailing cry, and I fell for it.

Result: It made me feel justified in my anger, my impotence, it made me feel grown-up.

artwork by c86

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song.context.result began as a small feature that personally felt important to share. starting with the small question of “tell me about a moment, a song and what it meant to you” seemed in taste to know how music can bring anyone privately back to a special memory.

awhile back, i asked some of my favorite music bloggers to kindly join me in this project and now am happy to share their own answers on musicisart. remaining true to the spirit of this assignment being anonymous, the authors shall remain private; however, still deserve special recognition for their honest contributions.

and before the first kiss
lost in your inbox
nerd litter
pogo a gogo
skatterbrain
the torture garden
uberdrivel
untitled

be sure to visit musicisart next week for another edition of this series.

Song: Fallen Embers
by Enya [A Day Without Rain, 2000]

Context: August 12, 2001 in my dad’s hospital room as he was leaving this world this was one of the songs I played for him with these little speakers I had.

result: I never saw my dad more at peace then when he was listening to this song. It was really quite beautiful.

——–

Song: Shine
by Slowdive [Holding Our Breath, 1991]

Context: Winter 1992. Wandering a local beach. Sony Walkman actually working. Watching faraway seagulls catching a ride on the waves. Thinking about a failed relationship. Crying. Being hard on myself.

Result: At the end of the walk, where beach turned into sea, I resolved to stop destroying my life in a blizzard of lies. People, it seems, appreciate truth and honesty. Decided that I had to be braver and stop avoiding confrontation. Even if the truth hurts it should always be your default option. But it can be so, so hard to turn and change the habit of a lifetime (wearing masks).

——–

song: The Tower of Learning
by Rufus Wainwright [Poses, 2001]

context: It was an absolutely perfect sunny day in San Diego’s Balboa Park, and I was walking by myself. I had just found out that the man I loved did not and would not ever return my feelings.

result: My heart was broken. I walked for hours, sobbing, and I didn’t care who saw me. I felt alone, utterly alone in a city where I knew no one, and I just wanted to disappear and never return. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to go on, and the words “I really do fear that I’m dying, I really do fear that I’m dead” were all I could hear.

Song: Mojo Pin
by Jeff Buckley [Grace, 1994]

context: Paris, 1998, sixteen years old, my first time in the city. After having a fight with my friends, I stormed out of our hotel and down a random alley. It was drizzling; the streets were as slick as greased hair. I had only my Discman to keep me company. I had no idea where I was heading, blaring Jeff Buckley’s sinuous song on repeat and trying not to break something. Finally, I ended up in a bar, where the owner spoke no English and I had to pantomime clumsily to get a shot of whiskey.

Result: I felt invincible, understood. Buckley’s trickle from calm to caterwaul was just what I needed to hear that night.

——–

Song: Good Woman
by Cat Power [You Are Free, 2003]

Context: My girlfriend and I had just broken up and I had about a half mile walk back to my car in the rain, and then I got lost for some reason on the way home because I had to take a detour, so, needless to say, a pretty sad situation. I got back to car and put my ipod on shuffle and this was the first song that came on. I then put it on repeat and listened to it all the way home.

Result: The song ended up making me even sadder than I already was, but for some reason, it felt comforting at the same time. I can’t listen to that song anymore without reliving that night in my head and getting a little teary eyed.

——–

Song: Begin
by Ben Lee [Awake is the New Sleep, 2005]

Context: Sometimes the shuffler is telepathic. Autumn 2006, first semester in the city. I’m walking down Broadway – just as Ben sings it – a bit uncertain about geography. Even as the instruments swell, I can still hear cars honking, but they don’t seem nearly as angry.

Result: The city feels a little smaller, a little more manageable.

Song: Vito’s Ordination Song
by Sufjan Stevens [Greetings from Michigan, 2003]

Context: I had just moved in with the girl I had fallen in love with. We lived in different countries then, and I came to stay with her hoping to get out of a severe bout of depression, which I did. We mixed our favourite albums like paint, but this song was one we had both come to in our own separate ways. Playing music together, this song was one we rarely played, I don’t know why. She sang it herself while working, and when she did, the lyrics developed a new meaning completely separate to what they had been before, handily drawn in to the feelings we shared, part of a little dream we created.

After two months were over I left for home, and promptly plunged into an experience worse than anything of the last few years. Everything I had left behind greeted me again, backed up by the shocked and stung feeling of being apart, I had little with which I could react. I would sit alone playing this song, listening to it, murmuring the words, imagining her voice alongside mine, quiet and close. At night when going to bed I would imagine her singing it, clinging to anything of her I could remember. This went on, until one night I sent her a message telling her this, how I had nothing but this voice in my head. She replied, telling she had been singing it alone to her empty bed.

Result: We survived the months apart, and now we share an apartment again, but rarely, if ever, play or hear this song. It doesn’t mean the same thing anymore, which is fine. I’m sure it will come back again at some point. It makes a good reminder.

——–

Song: I Don’t Need This Pressure, Ron
by Billy Bragg [Reaching to the Converted 1999]

Context: My musical cookie jar is chock-full of Proustian madeleines. Whenever I pull one out to snack on, the aural taste catalyzes a flow of memories and emotions that can often be quite affecting. One such biscuit was baked shortly after the birth of my Darling Daughter, almost eight years ago.

Her arrival was one of the two most amazing, wondrous, electrifying, and joyous events of my life. The other was the birth of my son, Little Man, some three years later. However, along with the exhilaration came fear and trepidation; I recall changing Darling Daughter’s nappy for the first time with hands trembling from the fear that I might break her. This was all so precious and fragile, I remember thinking, and I feel so incompetent and ill-prepared to care for it.

As babies in the first weeks of life are wont to do, Darling Daughter often had spells of uncontrollable bawling in the evening. It was really quite nerve-fraying; she would cry and cry and howl and turn red and cry and cry and screw her face up and cry and cry. One evening, as I paced the hall with this seemingly inconsolable bundle of life, I recalled someone suggesting that singing often soothes babies. But what to sing? I quickly realized that my knowledge of lullabies had evaporated, leaving only the most unsatisfactory ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’intact. So I opened my mouth and in hushed, soothing tones began to sing…

A Billy Bragg song. Yes, you read right.

Result: It wasn’t even one of his lovey-dovey songs; indeed, it was “I Don’t Need This Pressure, Ron,” his strident, acapella affirmation of Socialist beliefs. But I knew all the words, it had the right lulling tempo when sung at the appropriate speed, and, most importantly, it worked. By the second time through, Darling Daughter was beginning to calm down. By the fifth iteration, I kid you not, she was nodding off to sleep. The song thus became my magic balm to soothe and comfort both my small people in times of distress, and it rarely failed to work. The children grew to know it as “The Banging Song” after its first line (“What was that bang?”) and would often request it in times of meltdown.

Those parents among you will understand the deep sense of relief, peace, and gratitude that comes when one is actually able to soothe one’s upset offspring. To be able to comfort and quiet a child is to be afforded a moment of grace. And that is why every time I hear “I Don’t Need This Pressure, Ron” I am reminded of the immense privilege and joy that Little Man and Darling Daughter give me.

So if you do catch me humming the song with damp eyes, you’ll now know it’s not because I’m thinking of freedom, solidarity, and liberation…

photography by mike hollingshead
[learn about the history of these storms, its amazing.]

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Inlets may be my attempt at narrative sing-songwriting, but you’ll notice an at-times curious absence of linear storyline. Maybe this is a fault, but I prefer to write a good deal of music impressionistically. Although I sometimes include characters and events, I usually tend toward creating lyrical color schemes while maintaining some personal and intimate detail.

My friends at the label hosting my EP, Luvsound, talk about Inlets possessing a sense of space. I guess that this is true not only because I wrote and recorded most of it in the confines of a small Brooklyn bedroom all by myself, but because the music sweeps from sparse under-produced segments to much more expansive textures. In the context of the low fidelity of the recording, it makes sense that this music is perceived in terms of space.

But I also hope this “space” means the space between emotional and aural poles. I hope this music means something to those who hear it because, although it has its faults in production and even in message, it came from experience and intent.

[from the vestibule ep 2006]

pictures of trees
decks up and above
you are an effigy

A partially random assortment of art worth talking about::

A Fan’s Notes, by Frederick Exley is constantly on my mind. Although I am far from the athletic and macho main character, I sickeningly sympathize with the aggression and longing in this book. Most of us want to create something wonderful, something worth cheering, and that wanting is painful. Sometimes it does us in.

The Department of Eagles is my friend Fred’s band along with Daniel Rosen. A while back they released a really excellent album on a small label which I encourage you to purchase. Here, you may recognize Daniel’s truly admirable instrumental and vocal skills from the band Grizzly Bear, and Fred brings along a biting intelligence and intimidating lyrical prowess in addition to being responsible for the percussive ingredient. They are working on a new album I have heard which is truly spectacular. Their music continually and naggingly fuels my jealously.

[from the whitey on the moon lp]

sailing by night
the horse you ride

Debussy, “Footprints in the Snow” and “Valse Romantique.” Really anything Debussy is worth listening to or talking about. But in particular, Footprints in the Snow has such a restrained quality, but wide harmonic scope, and the imagery is so palpable. I also love how he plays with the timbre of the piano: he voices chords so particularly and so colorfully (here often dark like soot).The latter points can be said about Valse Romantique but this piece is so epic and grand. It tears at me emotionally, and also wows me with technique.

footprints in the snow
valse romantique

Frontline, PBS. Its some of the most thoughtful and terrifying nonfiction programming on TV. You can learn regularly about how the deck is stacked against you, narrated by the most omniscient voice artist. Highly recommended.

Modigliani. I wish I knew more about visual arts. I’m regrettably fairly illiterate when it comes to painting and sculpture, but something in Modigliani’s work has always resonated with me. Perhaps it is because my father hung “Gypsy Woman” over the toilet in our basement bathroom. Her face seems slightly alien, and the tones are muted. I suppose we can all describe ourselves this way sometimes.

My Brightest Diamond, A Thousand Shark’s Teeth (forthcoming). Perhaps this is self-serving because I play in MBD and on the next record. But it’s all Shara Worden’s music. And while her current album is truly rocking and awesome and I dearly love playing it, there is something extraterrestrial about what she has in the works. So organic and textural. You can hear the hollowness of things in the way you can hear waves bouncing off the innards of a cello. Except those waves are heartbeats, inside a cello. Or something.

[planet claire sessions // live jun 14 06]

something of an end
feeling good
golden star
robin’s jar
je n’en connais pas la fin l’hymne à l’amour
dragonfly

And if you are at all politically inclined, I encourage you to look into the ACLU among other groups. Now that the Dems have regained some control, it is important that they serve as more than a counterweight to the administration. We shouldn’t just stop the downward trend, we should begin to renew America.

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..a warm thankyou to the anonymous contributors..

song: danarfregnir og jaroarfarir
by sigur ros [ny batteri ep & englar alheimsins 2000]

context: september 12, 2001. NYC, after hours searching through the rubble..after the smells, sights and the horrors of the past 36 hours i made the walk home for food and a shower. danarfregnir og jaroarfarir was the first song i played in a post 9/11 world.

result: i raged and cried and mourned for those i knew i’d never see on this earth again and then went back to search some more.

——–

song: all delighted people
by sufjan stevens [eye of the beholder, vol. 1, 2000]

context: autumn break, alone at home, reading books

result: feeling as if everything’s still confusing even if something changed clearly. feeling lonely, lost, feeling silly, just feeling too much.

——–

song: piano fire (ft. pj harvey)
by sparklehorse [its a wonderful life 2001]

context: september 2003, walking around the central area in hong kong, it was about 11pm, the streets were packed with thousands of people, it was pouring with rain, i was without an umbrella, and i was suffering one of the worst panic attacks i’d ever experienced…

result: confusion, delusion, fear, anxiety… feeling detached from what was going on around me, yet wanting to escape…

song: thots
by otep [sevas tras 2002]

context: listening to this for the 1st time, feeling how profound her lyrics were. then listening to it again, after being raped, realizing her pain was now inside of me.

result: feeling so angry, wishing to find the foreign man who did this to me, push him hard down on the ground and scream at him until he couldnt hear, feel or see anything anymore.

——–

song: bluebeard
by gravenhurst [flashlight sessions 2004]

context: about 7 or 8 months ago, waiting for the underground to come

result: realizing the lonely lyrics perfectly describe the situation i’m in, which makes my feet so heavy that i listened to the song 3 more times before boarding the 4th or 5th train that came since i began to wait.

——–

song: the lake
by antony & the johnsons [the lake ep 2004]

context: lying in my bed last night

result: tears rolling down onto my pillow; realizing how much of a good life i had over the past few years – and how it all fell apart, unceremoniously. the feeling of optimism about the future; whilst retaining a sense of my inward negativity; “do i want to go on anymore?”…

there will be a song//context//result pt.3 … would love to have you apart of it, please feel free to comfortably email or leave a comment.

art by carrie ann baade

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