Song of the Week

Quick note: For those who haven't heard, Alex Chilton--lead singer and songwriter of Big Star--died last night. I've written about Big Star a lot in this space--they're one of my all-time favorites, and Chilton was the type of songwriter who makes others want to get into it. There's not much I can say that his songs haven't said better.

If you'd like to read past Big Star posts, click here. If you'd like to see the 2-parter I did on them last spring, here's Part 1 and 2.

I'll close with this, and then head on for the Song of the Week:



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Song of the Week: The Killers, "All These Things That I've Done"

"Somebody Told Me"--the first single for the Killers' first album--made them stars. "Mr. Brightside," their even bigger follow-up, made them the hottest band of the year. But if you ask fans today their favorite song off Hot Fuss, most will say "All These Things That I've Done." It was something of an unofficial third single--too good not to play, but too long and sprawling to easily pitch--that retroactively became more popular than the two preceding "hits."



So what makes "All These Things That I've Done" a great and massively popular song? There's the Queen-influenced grandeur of the song's composition and production; it aims high. There's the great, dynamic, ever-shifting melody. There's the vaguely articulated, universally-loved theme of "my back's against the wall, but my head's held high." It seems to occupy rock bottom, but sounds like cloud nine. It's a low point, but steadfastly hopeful, selfless, defiant and (ultimately) joyful. Catchy melodies and counter-melodies fill every nook and cranny. For such a major production, it sounds effortless and genuinely inspired.

It does a lot of things well.

But I think it became a fan favorite for one line, its climactic refrain (2:40): "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier." Of course, the execution of this section (the band's rev-up, the chant-able melody, etc.) accounts for its success. It's a triumphant, winning moment. But it's really successful because of a catchy lyric, an idea given to me by a friend years ago.

I'd always used "catchy" to describe pop-friendly melodies--that is, memorable tunes that stick with you. But my friend--a major fan of this song, but not the Killers--insisted "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier" is a catchy lyric. It's evocative, seems meaningful, is hugely memorable (especially in the context of the song), and you want to sing along to it. In one way, this is arguably the song's worst lyric; it feels important, but it means nothing. Yet it's also the song's best lyric, because it clearly resonates with the audience in an indefinable way. It's nonsense, but it connects.

It's a good lesson for any songwriter: a good lyric, no matter how overtly smart, has to connect. As much as I admire writers like Elvis Costello and Josh Ritter, I appreciate their songs intellectually more than I love their songs emotionally. It's hard to write a smart lyric, but it may be even harder to write a catchy one.

What are some other "catchy lyrics"? Can you think of some other stand-out lines that roped you into a song--even a song you wouldn't otherwise like?

Not a souldier,
CM

Where Have All the Classics Gone?

Subtitle: If a Great Song Falls in the Forest, Will Anyone Ever Play It On Rock Band?
Paramore, The Killers, RollingStone.com, and You Already Have the Answer

I got Rock Band for Christmas. I set up the game, plugged in, tuned out, and strapped in for a roller-coaster of virtual rockery. I had my guitar, I had created my virtual self (complete with 50's rockabilly attire), I had my rock-stance at the ready, my snarl en queue, all while giddily perusing the menu for just the right inaugural song. I scanned the usual suspects ("Baba O'Riley," "Alive," "Blitzkrieg Bop," etc.)--a litany of pop and rock classics--and stopped suddenly at a song I didn't recognize. So I ask you now the question I asked myself then:

What the hell is Paramore's "Misery Business" doing on Rock Band, and what does this mean for the future of pop music?

Let's back up. I don't mean to imply that I've never heard of Paramore. I know they're an emo-ish band from the greater Nashville area, fronted by a genuinely talented and charismatic female lead. I know that, according to Billboard, they're currently every bit as popular as Fall-Out Boy. This makes them (arguably) the biggest band in their arguable genre. I also know their bass player, a young guy originally from Arkansas I met a few years back at a showcase, who seems exceedingly nice. I even know "Misery Business" isn't a bad song. It's certainly catchy, and (kind of) smart, and probably fun to play on the video game. I know all these things, but I ask you again:

What the hell is Paramore's "Misery Business" doing on Rock Band?

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Just before the holidays, I treated myself to a first-week download of Day and Age, the new Killers record. I bought the record for several reasons:
1) I learned--well after the fact--that Hot Fuss was a legitimately great album. I knew this when it came out--the pop power and ubiquity of its three consecutive mega-hits ended any real debate about its merits or relevance--but didn't accept it until much later....when I realized that new classics were in short supply.
2) Sam's Town, despite its lukewarm reception, was actually a more mature record, and even stronger at points than Hot Fuss. It was a good second outing, and features my two favorite Killers songs ("Read My Mind" and "My List").
3) I was in the holiday spirit.

About twelve listens later, I know that Day and Age is a failed outing. Its two best songs ("Losing Touch" and "I Can't Stay") aren't its single ("Human"), which for a band like The Killers is an unspoken death sentence. The record is full of bluster and bombastic arrangements and the integration of disparate influences...it's everything you'd expect from a Killers record, except actual hits. It doesn't lack for ambition, just transcendent songs. The fact that they led-off with "Losing Touch" shows they (at least instinctively) recognize what their most powerful song is. This time around, it just wasn't very powerful.

All this is fine, of course. I'll never knock a band for aiming high and missing, and I'll never discount past successes because of present failures. I'll remain a fan, as long as the Killers remain one of the only American bands simultaneously capable of and interested in creating new classics.

Ah, but there's the rub.

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On my first day of college, in my first class, in the first five minutes, the professor talked about "The Great American Novel," and why it doesn't--and can't--exist. He explained that modern Americans have less shared experience, that the world is smaller, but individual lives more fragmented. The Great American Novel cannot exist because no one book can speak to a greater universal truth (e.g., what could a Cuban immigrant in South Florida share with a trust fund kid in Newport). So American art has become smaller and smaller in scope, to match Americans' niche-driven lives.

But I thought about the annual Morrissey convention in L.A. flooded mostly by thousands of Latino males (as Chuck Klosterman famously detailed). And I thought about the thousands of country club receptions pumping James Brown over a gleeful dancefloor, and I thought about artists as disparate as Green Day and Outkast going diamond in the last decade. And I thought about the ever-expanding canon of classics available on Rock Band, songs that you know even if you've never sought them out, and I thought, "if that isn't universality, I don't know what is," and I thought, "if that isn't shared experience, I don't know what is," and I thought, "this might be true about the second-rate MFA swill I'm about to read this semester, but it's not true for pop music."

That is music's most important and unique function: it connects us in a way that no other medium can. With each simple succession of notes and words comes something else, something indefinable and magic, something intangible and mysterious, a truth outside reason, an understanding beyond knowledge; music is the unspoken and inscrutable language of our soul.

It is no wonder, then, that in the same year Fleet Foxes and TV on the Radio top every "Best Albums Of 2008" list, 80% of RollingStone.com's front page features bands that died or broke up 30 years ago, old artists from the era when "contemporary pop" meant "future classic." Sure, you'll get a Sara Bareilles Blurb, hidden amidst the New Dylan Bootleg B-Sides, or a Possible Who Reunion, or What Jimmy Page Had For Breakfast, or Brand New Best-Of List Rightly Featuring Old Artists From a Bygone Era, Giving Us An Excuse to Write More About Them, and Not the Myopic Barn Heroes That Someone's Publicist Is Asking Us to Declare "Important" in Lieu of Actual Popularity. (***See Note #1)

Again, I'm not criticizing Rolling Stone; I'm agreeing with them. If I wrote for Rolling Stone, I'd rather wax nostalgic about Quadrophenia than write a cover feature about Fleet Foxes, too. And they're a good band. They've carved out a niche, and they do it well, and it suits them just fine. And it suits me just fine, on clear and quiet and cold days in January when I'm glad "White Winter Hymnal" is on the iPod. But they'll never matter that much to that many people. By focusing more on Past Legends than Present Artists, Rolling Stone is simply reacting to a phenomenon that it's unwilling (or unable) to make explicit:

There are no new great bands. There are no new classics. (***See Note #2)

Call it the Rock Band Test, if you like: would Song X belong on this game? Has it become so instantly recognizable and familiar to even the most casual music fan that they can pick up a bass or drum beat or sing it karaoke-style and rock it? Again, I'm not even debating artistic merits here; I'm discussing universality.

The problem is that almost nothing contemporary would pass that test. There are three main reasons why:

1) The usual suspects--the bands who have authored past classics and would likely create more--are either inactive, between records, or coming off a relative misfire. Everyone from Pearl Jam to Green Day to the Strokes to the Foo is quiet on the western front. Tellingly, they're also older bands.

2) New bands like Paramore are on Rock Band because someone from their media conglomerate has a stake in the video game world and paid cash for that song's placement. If "Misery Business" had been absent from Rock Band, nobody would've said, "My Lord, what a terrible oversight! What an unforgivable omission!" They would've played "More Than a Feeling" or "When You Were Young" and had another beer. Songs like "Misery Business" are on Rock Band because the creators were compensated for their inclusion, not because the audience demanded it.

3) Even potential new classics (like MMJ's "One Big Holiday," at the time of its release) would exist in a vacuum. It's no secret that the music industry (excluding country and hip-hop) is presently ineffectual--at best impotent and at worst clueless. They're currently unwilling to seek out and develop new talent and unable to devise a fresh, viable business model. Worthwhile, serious bands operate outside the industry, carving out a smallish niche they can nurture themselves. Even if, say, Lucero suddenly wrote the next classic, they wouldn't have the requisite industry support to deliver it to the masses and cement its status. We're left waiting for great bands from the old era to deliver, or stuck with the hopeful payola of contemporary bands writing and performing within a sub-genre, for a subset of the population.

To my ears, only one "new band" produced a 2008 hit with the universal appeal, immediacy, relevance, pop sensibility, and massive commercial success that would define a "classic": MGMT's "Time to Pretend." After the band was critically dismissed as "a joke"(because, in this day and age, it's "deep" to be inarticulate and humorless), and the record criticized for being "too poppy," (one reviewer claimed it sounded like it was produced in a Swedish hit factory, as though pop--or Swedish--music is automatically less credible), "Time to Pretend" gained massive popularity first in (you guessed it) the UK. The American music machine--industry support, the media, then the fans--followed suit, and the song became a legitimate hit stateside. To boot, the song is electronic pop-rock, so it wouldn't have any business on Rock Band unless next year's version includes a synthesizer.

In other words, the one new classic from 2008 still doesn't pass the Rock Band Test.

For forty years, pop culture followed the direction of great, innovative artists, and the mainstream popularity of their songs. The industry sold those songs and copycat artists followed suit, chasing the proverbial rabbit. I'm not knocking contemporary music, because I honestly believe there are more good bands than ever before. The industry's collapse has given thousands of bands the freedom and motivation to innovate, and the results are rewarding and exciting to any fan of music. Instead of a handful of great bands and several thousand imitators, we have several thousand new, good, interesting bands. But the downside is this: nobody's chasing the rabbit, because there is no rabbit. Bands are simply doing whatever they want. Some of it's good. Some of it's bad. But almost none aspires for universality.

Good is the new great.

And "Misery Business," whether you like it or not, is the new "Stairway to Heaven." It's right there on the Rock Band catalog. Right there, next to "Everlong" and "Free Bird," and even "Mississippi Queen," and all the past classics, in the absence of present or future classics. It's right there next to it, as if it can be popular by association, as if proximity will hopefully-maybe-possibly equal popularity, or importance or, God forbid, greatness. As if people won't know the difference. And I've got my Playstation running and I've got my guitar slung and I've got the list cued up and--like so many millions of others--I've got a choice to make and a song to rock.

And I'm picking something else, I'm picking something I know, I'm picking a song I've heard a thousand times before, because the music business might change, and the music machine might change, but the songs remain the same.

Got the vision--now let's have some fun,
CM
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(***Note 1: Because I do things backwards, I just visited RollingStone.com after writing this paragraph, to see what's there. I kid you not--as I write this post, the front page headlines feature: Springsteen, Neil Young, U2, Paul McCartney, and Coldplay. Eighty percent. Next subset of links: Springsteen, Axl Rose, Iggy Pop, Bono, Sinatra, Jimmy Page's Manager, Kelly Clarkson, and an introduction to the "People Who Can Save Rock & Roll." I CANNOT make this stuff up.)

(***Note 2: I'm speaking for the non-country, non-hip-hop section of the music industry. Country continues to be fueled primarily by publishing, and hip-hop has produced the decades' biggest hits.)

In My Stereo

Plenty more content upcoming, including some new shows, a Christmas single, and I'm re-starting the 96X Anthology...but for now, here's what's In My Stereo.

The theme of this installment: Seeing Things for the Second Time.

Seems I'm revisiting a lot of familiar songs/artists/records these days and hearing them anew. Take the first song, and namesake of this post...

Black Crowes, "Seeing Things"
For everyone who dismissed the Black Crowes as "too derivative," how many of you still can't get enough Oasis? It's no crime to wear your influences on your sleeve, so long as 1) the influences are worthwhile and 2) you do something with them. "Seeing Things" borrows more than a little from, uh, every soul-rock-power-ballad imaginable (but let's start and end the list with Joe Cocker's "With a Little Help..." cover), but the quickest route to a great song is learning from great songs.

One listen to "Seeing Things" reminded me of just how vocally gifted Chris Robinson was, and how powerful the Black Crowes were when he was on-point. Sure, the vocals in the last minute are openly influenced by Cocker (among others), but the performance itself is anything but inauthentic. In fact, it's great.

Tom Petty, "To Find a Friend"
Nobody makes simple, straight-forward songwriting seem smarter, more honest, and more likable than the T-Pet. He might not be everyone's favorite artist, but name one person who likes music and hates Tom Petty. Just one.

Teenage Fanclub, "Falling Leaves"
If you've been reading this blog for some time now, you've noticed a serious Teenage Fanclub fixation. If you've never heard Teenage Fanclub, combine the things you (may) like about The Byrds and Big Star, add some sharp Scottish lyricism, and about 15 years worth of music to explore, and you've got Teenage Fanclub. Every now and then a truly great band slips through the cracks--Teenage Fanclub is one of those bands.

The Killers, "Change Your Mind"
A friend gave me Hot Fuss back when I staunchly hated The Killers and everything I thought they stood for. Sam's Town made me (slightly) more of a believer. A few more years, the decline of mainstream rock, and one ultra-savvy cover of Dire Straits' "Romeo and Juliet" later...sure, why not, I'm a Killers fan. Which means I'm going back and hearing all the stuff I willfully ignored before, and making a case for why it's suddenly good. Only it's not suddenly good, it's been good.

The lesson, as always: I'm an idiot.

Exhibit Q: "Change Your Mind," a bonus track from Hot Fuss that should've made the record. The Killers do The Strokes better than The Strokes.

U2, "Sweetest Thing"
Call me terminally uncool, but I like U2 best when:
1) They commit to writing unabashed pop songs and
2) They stop packaging said pop songs with some unrelated political agenda.

Look, I appreciate who/what U2 was when the Joshua Tree came out. They were a great band, and they made records that mattered. I get it. But they're also a great band because they're versatile, and they've wisely reinvented themself, and they're capable of doing new things and taking the mainstream in a new direction, and using their reputation to make pop music credible.

But, hey, U2: don't market your new pop record alongside the political agenda. Go to Africa, save the world, good, great, awesome. Just don't tell me any of that has anything to do with "Vertigo." It doesn't. You're not the band from Joshua Tree anymore and--even more--that's a good thing. You've earned the right to keep your message away from your music, if you want. Enjoy it.

Case in point: "Sweetest Thing." For my money, one of U2's top songs. Infectious, expertly crafted, winning, lyrically clever, perfect arrangement...a statement that bouncy, pretty, 3-minute pop can still be smart, joyful.

Rolling Stones, "Soul Survivor"
On a record full of great moments, the "down section" (starting at 2:15), in which the keys and tambourine build into a full band throw-down, with the refrain "soul survivor" shouted over the
mayhem, there isn't a more jubilant or beautifully reckless moment on Exile. One of the all-time great codas to a classic album.

Bob Dylan, "Chimes of Freedom"
Picking a best-Dylan-lyric is like picking the greatest square foot in the Sistine's Ceiling, but how's this for an underdog:

Upon 3,078th listen, I'm not positive that "Chimes of Freedom" isn't Dylan's best lyric. There, I said it. Discuss.

The Temptations, "I Wish That It Would Rain"
In all the years of listening to Motown anthologies and best-of's, and greatest hits, I somehow never heard "I Wish That It Would Rain." Then my brother put in the same anthology we've played a hundred times, and there it was.

I'll say this and be done with it:
1) Get this song. It's very easy to find/download.
2) If you think that Sufjan Stevens, or Conor Oberst, or the Guy from Death Cab, or other "deep contemporary indie guys," say more in their breakup songs than the Temptations do in this ...let's just get a cupcake and talk about your poli-sci paper in the common room for crying out loud.

So...what's in your stereo?

Top 40 Bands on the Planet, Part II

Yesterday I began my quest to name and rank the Top 40 Bands on the Planet (Earth). Today I pick up where I left off, at Numero Twentioso...

20) Belle and Sebastian
I'm a latecomer to these Scots, but no casual fan--as a group of lyrically-intensive, acoustic-driven melodists, they're about as good as it gets. Only the vocal oddities keep some of the best work from being taken completely seriously, but I'm not sure any song is completely serious ("Piazza, New York catcher are you straight or are you gay?").

19) Queens of the Stone Age
No one with a rudimentary knowledge of rock's past fifteen years will be surprised to read that the Queens were best when Dave Grohl was their drummer (Songs for the Deaf). Thoughtful lyrics, tight songwriting, and excellent musicianship are the strengths of hard rock's hippest band, but what really sets them apart from their semi-metal peers is their strongest muscle: their sense of humor.

18) Son Volt
When Uncle Tupelo broke up and begat two new alt-country uberbands, fans waited anxiously to see which would produce better work. Wilco may lead that race, but Son Volt's not far behind, with Jay Farrar as devoted as ever to topical lyrics and catchy alt-country melodies. Each Son Volt record is equal parts familiar and unpredictable, fresh and unique but still accessible. They might make a stronger point for a higher ranking if their live set wasn't relatively sleepy these days.

17) The Killers
Remember Jet? That whole bit about swinging for the fences? Well, the Killers are power hitters with a better average, and as much as "disco-punk" is, to my ear, an aesthetic oxymoron, it's hard to deny the urgency, energy, and pop-potency of their most noteworthy hits (especially "Somebody Told Me"). Recent rumblings suggest that their sophomore effort might not be worthwhile, but for now, they remain one of rock's most ambitious and powerful hit-makers.

16) Weezer
If this list were made in 1996, Weezer would make a convincing case for Top 3 placement. Ten years later, they're recycling their own perennial break-up rumors, caught in their own bizarre headspace, and drowning in irony. Nobody can deny Rivers' ability to write a relevant, catchy hit, but at what point did we stop trusting that the band is in on the joke?

15) U2
Speaking of bands that don't age well, welcome U2 into the Top 15. Cheers to what you used to be. Cheers to your extracurriculars. But anyone who really believes How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb was the best album of last year is drinking IPod's Kool-Aid. Stop citing Southern music as your chief influence and refusing to tour in the South (where folks can't pay $150 for decent seats). Stop using Mac to push your product. Stop copping Jesus' mannerisms. And stop, stop, stop thinking anything musically related to your band is still relevant.

14) Lucero
Maybe I'm biased. Alright, I'm certainly biased. But, regardless of where any given fan is from, it's hard to deny that these homespun minor legends have vaulted themselves into the Southern rock canon with 4 (going on 5) truly great albums and years of tireless roadwork. And, while most songwriters peak in their mid-to-late twenties, Ben Nichols is only getting better. As their nationwide fanbase increases and the buzz for September's Rogues, Rebels, and Sworn Brothers reaches a fever pitch, Lucero is a band with absolutely no shortage of relevance, and no signs of slowing down.

13) Foo Fighters
By now you've read at least one piece of unabashed flattery for Dave Grohl, one of rock's Most Valuable Players. And, although their most recent double album didn't play exactly as they anticipated, this is a band that will seemingly always deliver--radio hits, sleeper favorites, a tinge of unpredictability, and a top-tier live show. They're the type of band that is nearly impossible to hate.

12) Coldplay
Though I'm not necessarily a fan, they are, undoubtedly, one of rock's biggest bands in terms of popularity and scope. And, although I typically don't indulge in piano-driven atmospherics, nor falsetto-laden whinings, even I can't deny the success of songs like "Fix You" and "Swallowed in the Sea" off their most recent album. Whether you like it or not, Chris Martin and Co. do what they do, and they do it consistently well.

11) Red Hot Chili Peppers
Another aging band whose best days are behind it but whose worse days aren't fast approaching. Although their most recent effort sounds somehow less mature than 2000's Californication, the Chili Peppers are still a band devoted to musical alchemy and live-performance dominance, all in the context of the "Modern Pop Song." Any band that's still relevant fifteen years after its breakthrough is deserving of praise.

Top Ten Tomorrow!
Chris