Despite what the name and lyrics of this song imply, I don't pick up any feelings of heartbreak or regret when I listen to it. Instead it spills over with pure, relentless, and inspiring love. A feel good song, a song that makes you want to share your love with somebody. The song is a cover of a classic by R&B artist William Bell, and it’s faithful to the original, but also does its Black Keys thing in a lovely way. It’s a perfect song for them to cover.

Word: love

Mark Sandman appears to be lamenting a certain woman---how her beauty and her way of making people feel good to be around her contradict the grief and turmoil that her actions have caused him. There's a dissonance in the song: instrumentally, the song feels upbeat and funky, but it also has little moments---one instrument at a time---where a descent in notes gives off a different, less jovial feeling (like an "oh, here we go" or a "sigh..."). The instrumental contradicts the melancholy of the lyrics, which I think intentionally mirrors the dissonance within the lyrics themselves. It represents some complex emotions.

Word: dissonance

Little Beaver is a master of putting everything in its right place at its right time. This song is a shouting example of that, having that quality across the whole piece instrumentally, but particularly with the guitar and bass lines---they move together and compliment each other in a very satisfying way. They’re like a conversation, each responding to what the other says after one has said its piece, or by speaking together in agreement. The groove is laid back and chill, but also subtly showing off.

Word: rapport

I recently rediscovered the album this song comes from, Sonic Highways, and have been listening to it a lot over the last week. I avoided it in the past for silly reasons (wasn’t attracted to the album cover, was more into the Foo’s early stuff for a long time, hooks didn’t rope me in), and looking at the number of plays for each song, I don’t think I’m the only one who was like this. It’s not that it’s unpopular, just that it doesn't have as many huge songs as earlier albums. All this to say, I think it’s underrated! And this song is a great representative of the album---there’s not a whole lot to say specifically about it, just that it has that classic, satisfying and powerful energy the Foos are so good at cultivating. You just have to listen to it---it scratches every itch.

Word: power

This song, along with a lot of its album, has a feeling of finality to it. It's present in lyrics like "In three days I'll be outta here, and its not a day too soon," but also in the instrumentation---I can't quite place how the music elicits that feeling, but it does. It could be an outro piece to a movie, where loose ends are tied and stories are finished without dialogue---only imagery and this song.

Word: conclusion

The imagery and feelings I get when listening to this song are influenced a lot by its music video---it taps into a fantasy/mystery-loving childlike imagination somewhere in my brain that gushes over media that understands and portrays that wonder. It's that same kind of imaginative wonder stimulated by things like The NeverEnding Story, Where the Wild Things Are, or The Legend of Zelda. Thom Yorke is navigating a dark forest, peeking in at squirrels smoking on pipes by a fireplace in their humble tree trunk abode, watching a lamp-lit feast of an array of personified animals, seeing a cat wedding officiated by a crow---and he's clearly visible by the creatures, but none of them react to him or seem to notice he's there. 

The video is at a low frame rate, which gives the impression that Yorke is a stop-motion figure, making him convincingly occupy the same space as the stop-motion animals. It reminds me so much of old movies I saw as a kid (the slightly odd but fun and charming ones), and appeals strongly to a nostalgia for my early experiences of those fantasy worlds. I just love everything about it. It's an example of how it can be more than just the music itself that can make me love a song. I encountered the song first and the video second, but after having seen the video, the listening experience became about appreciating that perfectly-cultivated fantastical wonder created by the two together. 

Word: wonder

This has been a recent solid find of mine, worthy of the pick even if there's not as much behind it as some of the others. It's the one and only officially released B-side from Wasting Light. That album is a strong contender for the best Foo Fighters album (in my opinion), and I stumbled across this B-side while scrolling through their discography to play it. It makes sense why it was a B-side, but it has enough of that good, toe-tappin' head bangin' energy to make it worth returning to. And it's always exciting to find a song you didn't know by an artist that you love hidden in the singles & EPs tab. Think you've ripped through an artist's discography? Lots of B-sides get tucked alongside lead singles for album releases---singles & EPs is often a great place to poke around in.

Word: bastard

Where to begin. Like Swimming and The Night, Morphine's last two studio albums, I've so unfairly neglected. A recent Morphine kick has gotten me to revisit them, and it's so odd---I can understand why I hadn't invested time into them before, but now that I "get it," it's hard to believe that it took me so long. My initial pick for song of the day was a song that precedes this one, "Murder For The Money," and I'd already thought through what I found so engrossing about it: If Like Swimming were a descent, like you were sinking deeper into cold, dark water, then "Murder For The Money" would capture the point at which you could no longer see the light at the surface. It has these two roaring guitar verses that I feel could relate to the feeling of being sucked into a foreign place. But then "Empty Box" follows shortly after, and you're no longer in transition---it feels like an introduction to what exists in that dark and unfamiliar place, not frightening or foreboding, but unknown and curious. The song tells an engaging story, and in typical Morphine fashion, fills the space such that you could pay attention to a different aspect of the song with each listen, equally engrossed every time. Sandman, at his core, was a poet and a storyteller, and it shows in this one.

I think everyone expected Morphine to continue in what they were cultivating with their first three studio albums, and the reason that Like Swimming never got as much attention is because to the untrained ear, it sounds like a departure. But should you spend enough time with Morphine, you'll inevitably come to appreciate what they were doing---their first three albums, while sharing the same spirit, were all quite different from one another. Like Swimming continues that pattern of change in perhaps a more drastic way to what came before, but doesn't lose or alter that distinctly Morphine spirit. It blends and expands upon the conventions of their previous work, and although it might not sound like a direct step-up from Cure for Pain or Yes, I don't believe their goal was to mirror that energy at all. They were doing something fresh, different, but still closer to home than those who overlook it might think. There's much about it to love---I'll be enjoying it for a while.

Word: contrition

I picked up this track's album yesterday at a favorite record store in town. I've known and loved it for some time, but this track in particular occupies a special, high-up pedestal in my brain. It's nostalgic, one of those songs that when listened to can transport me back to the headspace and feelings associated with a certain window of time. Listening to it reminds me of my fondness for the time it's attached to, puts me back in those good feelings. It's also another song that's bursting at the seams with that infamous word---love. I feel similarly about it to the way I feel about the Black Keys rendition of "I Forgot To Be Your Lover." It inspires that feeling of pure, unafflicted love, even if it alludes to tones of heartbreak and absence. Mac DeMarco is a master at identifying and articulating those emotions---listening to this song, you get an intimate experience of knowing what he knows and feeling what he feels. 

Word: reassurance

This one is deceptively simple. Short & sweet, with one memorable guitar rhythm throughout the length of the song, some light snare taps, silence when it's needed, and close, bare vocals. In the promotion for this album (Into the Blue), Frazer was very direct about its underlying subject matter---a disorienting, hard breakup---and this song appears to be the one which is solely and wholly in response to it. It's gotten almost the least attention on the album, which makes some sense as it's probably the most "different" from Frazer's typical energy & style, but I feel it's one of the album's strongest. Frazer's emotions are on full display, and the extent of his heartbreak is clearly understood & felt, but the song doesn't wallow in sadness. The guitar rhythm and vocal delivery feel innocent and cheery, like they could just as easily fit into a happy song about how much one loves their partner. The song as a whole is comforting. I interpreted that contrast as a sign of reflection---thinking of the relationship in retrospect and appreciating its highs while acknowledging its lows ("love for the ages, to perfect strangers"), and a gratefulness that a love so strong, even if gone, could exist.

Another thing that makes this song special---if you listen closely to the backup vocals, you can hear Durand Jones in there!

Word: wistfulness

In continuing with my newly kindled appreciation for Morphine's later work, this is a track from their final record, The Night. Its very different from typical Morphine, with lots of acoustic guitar, a strings section, and a distinctly different, foreign-inspired rhythm to it (only way I can think to describe it). There's a mystical and psychedelic feeling to the song, a departure from tales of love and the nightlife to strange and otherworldly imagery---Sandman's lyrics sound as if he's describing a dream, one of being damned, skirting around disaster, fighting for survival. I have a hard time interpreting what it describes, but that adds to its mystique! You can tell they were experimenting, trying a number of new things at once---and what they did definitely worked. The song feels like a soundtrack to the rousing of an ancient curse from a previously undisturbed desert tomb. An out-there analysis, but if you heard it, I think you'd get my meaning.

Word: mystique

This one is ear candy. I love a song with lots going on---to be able to shift your attention between several parts each doing their own thing, but that all make space when one part has something special to say. I love the loose, simple guitar track panned to the left that just chugs along for most of the song, and the way its introduced in the beginning of the song with an acoustic that fades into electric. The track also has a very consistent "font" to all of its moving parts and sections, where every sound has a certain quality to it---light and airy, but rigid and determined. It's a scenario where the album art might be influencing how I interpret what I hear (a distorted milk crate, which is both light & airy as well as rigid), but it's how I hear it, I can't be convinced otherwise. 

Word(s): looking back

If I had the chemistry going on in my brain for it, this is a song that would pull me to the dance floor, not caring what I look like or who sees it. Instead I tap feet, nod head, shake knee. All the right lights are flashing, they just don't shine so much outwardly. All this to say, this song makes someone who doesn't dance wish they would---it invites you to that shining place. It shares this with a lot of other music from its time---fully steeped in the feeling and context of where it comes from, it must be close to the most "dance-centric 80s" of dance-centric 80s music. 

A side note, when I first heard this song, I thought I was hearing CHIC's "Good Times" until it picked up a bit more. It's those guitars---a very similar riff happening between the two. Perhaps not coincidentally, the two songs inspire a similar feeling of dance!

Word: dance

On this day I shared a geek-out moment over Breaking Bad with a friend during a short road trip---mostly in regards to the show's soundtrack. There are so many great songs that were used over the years of the show's airing, every choice was perfect, and it was mostly stuff you very likely hadn't heard before. Bravo Vince. This song was a standout among those we listened to. I don't recall the context in which it was played in the show, but I'd put a comfortable wager on that it was a meth cooking montage.

A favorite band of mine, Fujiya & Miyagi, was first introduced to me through Breaking Bad. The song was "UH," and it was played during Jesse and Badger's first meth-cook after trying to cut out Walt. The rest is history! They'll make song of the day sometime I'm sure.

Word(s): in time

I shared a moment of reminiscence with a friend about how much the music video for this song traumatized us as kids. Now I just love it, a masterpiece! That beginning werewolf transformation scene---dear god, I so vividly remember that terror. Might have jumped the gun with a pick like this before October (though it's October as I'm writing this), but this isn't like Christmas music---this song could never truly be out of place. It's only enhanced when you listen to it in the context of the spooky month itself. I so love how music can be transformed depending on the place and context that you hear it, and there's no better example than with "Thriller." We all know it, we all love it, what more is there to say.

Word: terror

Now prolific (the greatest selling video game of all time), Minecraft is familiar to the world---most people would recognize its tropes, have people close to them who have played it, or have played it themselves. It's cemented into pop culture in a way few things are---Mario and Tetris may have done it first, but those games didn't have the internet as Minecraft did. They also didn't have the advent of YouTube to evolve alongside, nor did they exist in the golden ages of the iPhone's infancy. Those classics occupy a special place unlike anything else, but I feel that you can't compare their place in culture and what they provided for a generation to Minecraft's. It's apples & oranges.

I was fortunate to have been in the perfect age-demographic to experience Minecraft when it first graced the public. Eight years old, full of wonder, and so easily engrossed with its magic---Minecraft provided the ability to take charge over my own world, to dream up & execute limitless ideas, to invent and become invested in my own stories, and to explore an early taste of what it means for something to be infinite. It was one of the best outlets for a child's boundless creativity. Some of that magic is still there, but it has a distinctly different quality than those early 2010s when it was young. There was a naivety to it. We would try things that were nonsensical (uncraftable things, the aether portal, summoning Herobrine, etc.), but we only know them to be nonsensical now that we know everything about the game. At the time, with how new an idea the game was, few knew anything for sure. 

Returning to the game today feels like a search for that same magic, an effort to garner that naive wonder that came so easily as a child. It's still there, but its moments come fewer and further between. Perhaps expectedly, those feelings are most often inspired through sound. So much has changed about the game graphically and mechanically, but the thing that's changed the least about it cosmetically is sound. Most blocks make the same sound when broken as they always did, and its the same story with mobs, weather, crafting---but by far the most impactful consistency over Minecraft's lifespan is its music. Nothing in Minecraft continues to inspire that feeling of magic & naive wonder like its music does. It would just play---random songs, at random intervals, at random times. When a track played, it would make whatever you were doing feel noteworthy & substantial. They would inspire you to reflect on what you've done up to that point and what you were planning to do next. Exploring for a good spot to build a base, a beautiful song might inspire you to take a moment to enjoy a scenic overlook you would have otherwise passed by. My perception of the tracks is inseparable from that magical experience of playing Minecraft at a young age, so when listened to by themselves, they become my closest connection to that feeling. These songs that I heard repeatedly were subconsciously embedded into my brain, and I was unaware at the time how important to me they would become.

"Dry Hands" is special for a couple of reasons. In a tracklist of equally memorable songs, it stands out for its brevity. It concisely sums up every feeling I associate with these songs, like a poster-child for the soundtrack. When it comes on in-game, it feels like less of a song to continue working to, and more one to pause to and take stock of what I've done so far. It feels reflective, and has become the song I return to time & time again to reconnect with that young spirit. Unless you were already familiar with it, you would never guess that such a beautiful piano ballad originates from a lighthearted game where you build stuff with blocks---which only contributes to its noteworthiness. This brief but profound song, along with the soundtrack as a unit, are one of those pieces of art that I'm just grateful exists. I will always have them, and with them will always be able to return to those childlike feelings of wonder.

Word: nostalgia

There’d be no way to know without asking the man himself, but this song feels like the manifestation of an idea Strings had held on to for some time. “I’d sing along with the birds, if I only knew the words,” would have been the springboard, a simple phrase to represent the idea he explores along the length of the song. He sings about tuning into the song of a “miracle flying-high” (a bird), and imagining how good it must feel as the bird to sing and be heard by all. It’s poetic, profound, and told alongside a beautiful instrumentation that echoes that sense of wistful longing for the feeling Strings is describing. It’s lovely.

Word(s): long for

With "Dry Hands" serving as---in my opinion---the most concise representative for the profoundness of Minecraft's music, "Wait" strolls in as my fun second favorite. This one wasn't a background track, but a music disc: a rare item found underground in cave-spawner chests (most of them anyway), which you could create a jukebox in order to play. Unlike the basic soundtrack, music discs felt special for the intention behind their being played---when I listened to "Wait," it was because I was doing something for a long period of time in the same place (usually working on a base), and it gave my young mind a feeling that I was really "working." Memory implications aside, it's also a great song. Its best feature is its main section---its chorus if you will---and it knows it, bringing it in early and strong, and reintroducing it stronger and harder than before once you've begun to think that it's put it down. As "Dry Hands" celebrates the subtle beauty of your world, "Wait" celebrates the fun you're having in it.

Word: nostalgia

How are Dave Grohl's arms still attached to his body? A real mystery in the grunge genre. This song represents my favorite Grohl drum performance in Nirvana---and nearly all you need to hear for me to explain why is the first twenty seconds. Combined with a crying guitar drone, a slamming of eighth-note hits gradually mounts suspense until shit drops---then, Grohl does this mesmerizingly complicated breakdown that I can't even describe. I can hardly make the sound with my mouth! It's mean & powerful, perfectly executed, and its placement at the beginning of the song (and at the start of the bridge) seem to suggest that it's no big deal---yet it's also very "here it comes!" in regards to all of the other mind-hammering stuff Grohl is about to get up to in the song. His playing pares down a bit in the verses, but keeps every ounce of that intensity, head-bangingly letting loose at the intermittent moments when Kurt pulls the direction back to strong, hard playing. Grohl is a roaring steam train, and you better get out of the way.

Word: steam

The Black Keys do this thing with some of their releases that is just fantastic: on the physical record for The Big Come Up lives three alternate versions of tracks to replace their original studio counterparts. "Yearnin'" is one of them, and I so prefer this alternate recording to the original---it's slower, giving more space to appreciate Auerbach's dancing riffs and Carney's patented medium fidelity grunginess. It's the version that made me fall in love with the song. I recall saying before that this characteristic of the physical version of the album is the most "Black Keys thing to do ever," which rings well with the fact that their debut is also their most "Black Keys thing to do ever" to date.

Word: gem

Hot Chocolate is simultaneously one of the funniest and most brilliant funk outfits I have ever listened to. One of those bands whose music is prolific enough that I'd heard it a fair amount, but hadn't known their name until independently exploring their genre. This particular song strut its way into my ears while I was looking through "Best of 70s" playlists for another song that I'd heard recently, but couldn't recall the name of (which I'm still looking for). It's groove is so heavy I can't lift it; so hot I can hardly touch it. Lean too far into that realm and you end up with something corny, but not these guys---they're disco-funk-dance-floor mad scientists, infusing into their work just-right concoctions of cool, collected, intense and unapologetic funk genius. It's hard for me not to pull on so many adjectives when describing this song.

It's a non-serious groove paired with non-serious lyrics, but executed with such serious FUNK and intensity and it balances the contrast perfectly---it's sort of tongue-in-cheek, definitely self-aware, and navigates the space its carved out with such fluid ease. The bass, especially in the verses---it's sort of goofy, fills lots of space without doing too much, and is totally addictive. That guitar---I don't know where to begin to describe what it's doing, but if you listen, you'll know what I'm referring to. It has a nonchalant intensity, if that makes any sense. It makes the whole song really. These guys had their finger on the pulse of something no one else did.

Word: electric

Hypnosonics were another project of the great Mark Sandman, and were a fairly overlooked effort---I wasn't aware of them until the recordings that included this song were re-released only recently. It presents a fun side to an artist better known for his dark, introspective lyrics and delivery on love and the nightlife. And, just as anything else that Sandman touches, it is an absolute treasure. I live for discoveries like this---excellent music that's been floating around under my radar at the same time that I've been obsessing over the work of the same responsible artist. Will be keeping this one close for a minute!

Word: treasure

"Skinned" is a one of a kind---I'm most attracted to its steady acoustic rhythm across its length (joined later by a banjo doing a similar dance), but there's a lot more happening to engage with. First, subject matter---Hoon assumes the persona of a serial killer making furniture from the bodies of his victims. Nice! It's whimsical, playful, yet describing making lampshades of durable skin and needing a couple of hands to make "one hell of a plant stand." It's that whimsical arrangement that makes the song great to me, but I wonder if it would have the same effect were it placed over less macabre lyrics. Regardless, I might hesitate to recommend it for fear of what people might think of me for the suggestion... but it's a great song!

Word: shoes

This is one song where I feel as though it would be easier to draw my favorite aspects than to describe them. It's that guitar---bending up and down, to and fro, strung along by a steady, simple cowbell. It's a simple thing (though probably not that simple), and though I haven't been one to criticize so much, I wish it were integrated into the chorus in some way rather than having it step aside for heavier phrases. It's a satisfying listen nonetheless.

Word: tick

I'm finally getting to this song---it's been on repeat for days. It's not new to me, but it's begun to fill some spaces and scratch some itches in my brain that it hadn't before, and there is much to pick out to respond to. First, the rhythm pattern introduced in the beginning of the song (accompanied by the bum bums)---somehow that simple phrase acts as such an effective through-line for the entire song. Guitars pick up, drums hit harder, and all manner of other interesting things start to take place, but that simple rhythm always sticks its head back into the game at just the right time. One of the best parts of the song is when the guitar solo slips somewhat unexpectedly into that rhythm at its ending. And don't even get me started on the descending guitar lick after almost every lyrical break---that's what makes the song for me. The way it changes willy-nilly, being louder or more forced at some times over others. 

DUNNNNN

       NUUN

            NUN

Everything about this song just makes sense.

Word: through-line

This song deserves a page. But in the spirit of brevity, were I to focus on one aspect to highlight, its what the acoustic guitar does once Yorke begins his humming (which continues through the verses). My god. There is not a more mesmerizing acoustic guitar rhythm that I've ever heard. Even after listening to it tons of times, it still sounds unexpected and magical to me. It accents at just the right moments, pulling back equally as expertly---the intonation of the notes doing just as much as their placement in creating a sound unlike anything I've heard anywhere else. How one creates something so beautiful and engaging is so inspiring to me. Soon enough I'll give this song all of the attention it deserves, but for the time being, this is the characteristic that's captivating me the absolute most.

Word: mesmerize

When I hear this song in my head, it's characterized most by its bass---simple, large, and complemented by a contrast with the gentle pings of the xylophone. The tone of the song is carried by that bass, dictating which direction an inflection of emotion is going. The song is a strong descriptor for something: at times it's an expression of love, at other times it feels like an expression of conflicted emotions---ultimately, it appears to be both. Sometimes hopeful, sometimes somber. All the while elegant and beautiful.

Word: grace

"H." does something that not many other songs I listen to do (or at least, it does it the best)---it creates a forebodingly dark, dense atmosphere, while balancing it with exceptionally raw, vulnerable lyrics. Touching on lesser-explored emotional tones and a rarer interplay between musical content and message, this the type of thing that TOOL is so uniquely good at.

"They're both totally void of hate

But killing me just the same"

...

"Considerately killing me" 

Nothing else before "H." sounded like "H.," and that's just the condition of TOOL. Musically too, this song repeatedly does exactly what I didn't know I wanted to hear at every turn. My favorite instance of this is with the relationship between the guitar melody and the bass---the bass joins up in playing what the guitar is after the first chorus, in a way almost as if it's saying "Hey I knew you liked what the guitar was doing before, and now I'm going to do it too." It's details like that that I so love.

Also... the lyric "looking to turn my piss to wine" resonates somewhat differently now that Maynard Keenan owns a winery.

Word: along

I'm going as Jeff Lebowski. The Dude. El Duderino. Your Dudeness. And the whole time I'll be thinking of those "la la la las" that seemed to tie the movie together so well. The Coen brothers truly could not have picked a better song to act as a through-line for their film. It only plays twice---I looked it up---yet somehow its placement is so iconic that its inseparable from the film. And pop-culture notoriety aside, its just a bloody great song. Laid-back, nonchalant, and kind of funny (like the Dude), but also honest and endearing (also like the Dude). I love this song, and I love The Big Lebowski---two peak artistic efforts that are made even better by each other. How often does that happen?

Word: , man.

I feel as though I'm this close to falling head-first into Gizzhead-dom. Eventually, they're literacy in so many different styles will evolve into something that captures exactly what I'm wanting for them to do---it's often the case that they get *right* there, touching on something that tickles my brain, but quickly moving on. Their output is so large that I'm sure they'll get me at some point. Though I think that quality of never situating fully into playing or sounding one specific way is the appeal of King Gizz, and for me to become invested is to appreciate that about them.

"Phantom Island" absolutely rocks. It's like a roller-coaster ride through all manner of whimsical and fast-changing scenery. It never fully rests into one sound or tone---just as you've understood what you're hearing, it moves on. This makes it really engaging, but I also wish it would sometimes explore a particular idea further (much like my relationship to the band as a whole). My favorite features are at its first breakdown---there's a very "Riders on the Storm" esque keyboard tone, descending in a tremolo (I think?) rhythm as it leads into the first verse. In that first verse lives a horn section that makes the song for me---every element plays off of the other in such an incredibly satisfying way. Lyrically, too, it's the most King Gizz thing ever. I look forward to seeing the other work that come alongside this effort!

"Fuck, I never thought I'd lose my mind

I suppose sanity is easy to lose and hard to find

Hey, and can you hear that tintinnabulation?

Are all the bats in the belfry again?"

The bats might just be in the belfry again.

Word: rapport

The vocal performance in this song was said to have been improvised in studio by lead singer Luca Prodan with little effort, and was lamented by members as "not a song to include on the album, but it remained anyway." What they lament as a sign of Prodan's waning enthusiasm for the band, however, is what I think makes this song so great. There's a feeling of authenticity to the singing, and a nonchalance that contributes to the song's overall laid-back tone. There's even a moment where Prodan appears to think they're finished but they're not (this could be intentional, but I like to think it's not), and he integrates the mistake into the song in a way that's funny and relatable.

"I think we're there

Oh no, maybe not

Doesn't matter, keep going"

Instrumentally it's really fun, with a short & simple guitar melody and that spans the length of the song complemented by sparse electronic riffs and asides. Everything comes together in a way seemingly unintended by the band, but that is endearing and lead to an excellent song.

Word: lax

Buddy Miles! I'll admit that I wouldn't know him if not for Hendrix, but I think that's pretty common---Miles and Hendrix are a part of each other's legacies. And... having heard both this recording and Miles' studio version (titled "Them Changes"), I have a preference. The song might belong to Miles, but when he performed it with Hendrix, that's the moment when it was fully realized. Hendrix brings so much to this song! There's an incredible compatibility between his effortless-sounding guitar groove and Miles' strutting & soulful voice. And whatever the hell he's doing with his guitar during the verses is so phenomenally fun to listen to, I'll often skip back to the first two-thirds of the song (before the claps & breakdown begin) to hear it all again. I can hardly find the words to describe what it is I'm hearing---too busy grooving along! You just have to hear it for yourself.

Word: felicitous (is this collaboration!)

This is a spontaneous pick---somewhat symbolic I suppose---of how a song can sit so unassumingly within an album or playlist whilst containing something so utterly bold, ear-catching, or whatever is the opposite of unassuming. I don't know that this is the absolute best example of that, but it made me think of it, and that was enough to make it song of the day. I came across it through Radiohead's Office Charts playlists, where the band members publish playlists of the music they're currently into or are inspired by. Thom Yorke appears to have an affinity for some of Eno's work. 

I'm mostly unfamiliar with the artist---save for knowing the name---so I suppose it's a case-study for how expectations govern what you take from listening to a song. The only expectations I had were placed there by the song having been selected by Thom Yorke. And since I hadn't listened to any of the Office Charts playlists before, those expectations could only be categorized by what I know about Thom Yorke. Not a lot! Without more time & deeper listening, I don't have a whole lot to say about the song itself, aside from that its utterly unique---I can't compare it to anything I've listened to before. I've enjoyed thinking about how its musical elements, like the dense but simple guitar rhythm that spans the length of the song, relate to the lyrics at its end---short & concise phrases that revolve around four mantras:

"Nowhere to be"

"Nothing to be"

"Nothing these days"

"Nothing to say"

A main idea having something to do with "nothing & nowhere." Maybe as I familiarize with Eno, I'll get a better idea of what this song is getting at. In the meantime, I'll be on the hunt for other golden eggs hiding amongst their dozens.

Word: nothing

This one has been special to me for some time---in part because of my history with it, and also because of the story behind it. All members of the band were said to have switched instruments for its recording (hence the paranthetical "Naive Melody"), which resulted in a Talking Heads song that sounds distinct from all of their other material. It's candid and innocent sounding, and when paired with its sentimental lyrics, has a nostalgic feel to it (though perhaps thats just my association). You can hear moments where a part falls out of time and catches back up; notes hit that are perhaps harder than you would anticipate by what came before them, suggesting the player has less control over their instrument than usual. It's truly endearing. Despite not having for me a direct connection to home, its lyrics and warm disposition make me think fondly of it.

Word: warm

I used to hear this song's album all the time. During service at work, it was a popular choice from chef! It's near impossible for me to separate listening to it from thinking of the kitchen---which is an association I cherish---and this particular song is a favorite of mine. The dry, rough-around-the-edges tone of the drums (as well as the rest of the album) are nothing short of satisfying, and their strong acoustic sound is balanced out with near-equal parts electronic drums. While that element is perhaps what stands out to me, I think that the strings are what really characterize the song. Their sound is almost mournful, and when put next to the hard-hammering drums, they create a really engaging contrast.

Word: ragged

I think of this song as a criminally underrated song from an almost equally underrated side-B. It has several standout moments, all revolving around the melody introduced immediately at the start of the song. It's all about those ascending notes at the end of their phrase:

(This is the best way I can think to illustrate it. If you know it, I think you'll recognize what I'm referring to).

     ___

    ___       ___     ___

    ___ ___ ___ 

___      ___

The first time you hear it, it's gentle and subdued. Then it comes in again after a hard & loud chorus to pull you back into that quiet sound. In the final chorus, it joins in the fun of being played hard & loud, as if it were teasing its final moment all throughout the song! Its a significant payoff. When done well, a solo that not only alludes to the melody throughout the rest of the song, but plays it exactly, can be chef's kiss---just perfection.

Word: allude

This song has all of the beautifully dirty, messy, grungy sound of the early Keys that I love so much, but my favorite of its features is what happens in the beginning & end. First, the guitar melody that introduces the song---everything before the drums clamor in. It's short, sweet, and seems to tie together everything that follows, despite having been the thing to lead it all. I also love how the the sudden drop in loudness and energy that happens near the song's end, together with that beginning riff, encapsulate all of the relentless, thundering playing in between the two parts. The Keys are masterful at creating that sort of contrast in their work---so many of my favorite Keys songs do a similar thing.

Word: pine

This one confuses me a bit. It's a good song (wouldn't choose it otherwise), but I have a complex opinion of what it represents. The Black Keys released this alongside a deluxe for an album that was released in the same year, which has unfortunately become a common thing. Couldn't just put it on the original? I guess the money was too appealing---you tend to assume better of a group you love so well.

The politics of it aside (though they're part of the reason it stands out), the song plays with some ideas that are fun to listen to. A little guitar riff after the first verse is unexpected and fun, and the departure from the melody of the chorus when Auerbach sings the aside, "Why you wanna make a fool out of me" is great---though I feel that without it, the chorus wouldn't have as much to offer. It's all consistent with what I expected from hearing more Ohio Players---nothing super special, but nothing particularly unpleasant either. I won't let that spoil what joy there is to take from it though.

"S-I-N C-I-T, Why you wanna make a fool outta me," while heralded as cringe by many fans, I actually think is quite clever. The fact that they're spelling out the words of the title isn't the classiest thing, but replacing "Y" with "why" and turning it into a phrase---you can't deny the ingenuity behind it.

Word: uhhh

One of my favorite parts of the The Big Come Up's sleeve is a quote from a review by Hugh Gulland of Bucketfull of Brains: "The Black Keys' debut crackles forth from your speakers and shakes its ass around the room like it's alive, as insistently persuasive as that ole devil-man himself, with its eerie reverberated hollering, speaker-shredding distortion and those dang-she-done-me-wrong sentiments." (I aspire to do music-writing with such great imagery!)

Gulland was referring (of course) to the record as a whole. But I feel that no other song on it lives up to that description quite as well as "Brooklyn Bound" does. Holy crap! Auerbach does something with that gritty, dirty, nasty guitar tone in this one that is so insanely infectious, and Carney lays the asphalt for him to smack that highway. For most listeners, "Busted," "I'll Be Your Man," or "Heavy Soul" are the standout poster-children for the album---but for me, "Brooklyn Bound" is the greatest ambassador for what this first album did. The perfect summation of what I love about this era of the Keys.

At the end of almost every riff is this short accent to cap off the phrase, reading as a "don't you dare look anywhere else, I've got more to say." I also seriously love how the bass part hints at the guitar phrase that comes in after each chorus---the bass mostly does its own thing throughout the length of the song, and the guitar joining up for the more attention-grabbing sections is so utterly satisfying. In each rise of notes, Auerbach grabs his strings by the fistful!

One last note, I came upon my second favorite part of The Big Come Up's sleeve: "Produced by Patrick Carney using his patented recording technique known as medium-fidelity. This system requires equal parts broke-ass shit to equal parts hot-ass shit." One of the more fantastic descriptions of someone achieving perfection through intentional imperfection.

Word(s): shakes-its-ass

Saw these guys in Detroit on this day (writing retroactively here). Butt rock? Depends on who you ask. I'm definitely not familiar enough with the band to make any sort of judgement, but I do know that I like this song, and I also know that they put on a pretty great show. It scratches the rock itch in all of the right places---I wouldn't say I'm invested in it so much lyrically, but I get the impression that's not exactly the appeal of Creed anyway. Maybe conditionally it is ("Higher" & "One Last Breath"), but it doesn't seem to be the largest component to their success---instead, I'd venture to say what resonates is the emotion Scott Stapp infuses into his delivery. Vague accounts of some type of struggle (often a fairly "generic" lyrical content), but with all of the emotionally charged delivery to prove that the singer has experienced the type of struggle they are describing---that is the appeal of lots of rock. Too specific, and your music doesn't resonate with as many people. You could say that the Foo Fighters, while not deeply rooted in accounts of emotional turmoil like Creed are, share parts of this style of writing in their own way.

But its the music itself---the instrumentation---that so tremendously illustrates a singer's point. Their lyrics might be generic at their surface, but the music does half of the talking (sometimes more), giving music like Creed's the ability to connect with people wherever they're at---and for so many different types of struggle. The success of that relationship is what makes the difference between great and not great music---and is also what makes it art!

All this is to say that across the board, Creed is not really generic rock. You could maybe say that about their lyrics, but I don't believe that's as much of a defining factor as many think. I suppose that illustrates the line between people who can connect with the whole artistic content of a song, vs. those who might only connect strongly with lyrics (rarer I think, but to some it's more important). I wasn't expecting Creed to inspire me to analyze the appeal of mainstream "generic" rock, but here I am, and it's helped me to better understand my own relationship to this type of music too. Not sure if you'll see more Creed here, but this is absolutely an endorsement! (at least of this song)

Just try not to look at some of their album covers.

Word: intentions

Record to record, the Keys never sound quite the same, which to me is the affect of repeatedly bringing in productive, new, and creative ideas. It's a quality that makes (almost) every record stand on its own---each having its own auditory tint or font; consistencies across songs that allow you to relate them to one another as a greater piece of work. It's why when I listen to b-sides from the Keys or the Chili Peppers, I can usually place what record's sessions the track came from. The variation in their sound from one record to the next is routinely celebrated, and I think it's one of the components to the band's success.

With that in mind, their most recent variation in style, Ohio Players, has hardly been celebrated by fans in the way past efforts have. It has some gems---there are good, even great songs on the record---but it's hard to look past its frequently loud overproduction and its unfortunately too-long list of forgettable tracks. It's inspired many to decry it in favor of the Keys taking some time to "soul search," or to take a return to form to what made them so distinct and interesting in the first place (Junior Kimbrough inspired, medium fidelity dirty grooves). Harsh. But what many (including myself) didn't realize at first is that they did have a sort of return to form: 2021's Delta Kream and 2022's Dropout Boogie. It's easy to forget, though, because they could have done it better. Of course they didn't sound exactly like those earlier records---the Keys are not usually a band to backtrack---but the blues influence, covers, and some elements of that dirty-romp style were there. That's where this song of the day comes in.

"Didn't I Love You" is arguably the most like classic Keys of anything they've put out since... before Attack & Release? That doesn't sound right to say, but I think it's true. Even with Delta Kream (which included a Kimbrough cover that was also on their first record) consisting of covers that could fit right with their early music, the sound's font is so radically different from classic Keys that it can't really be compared in the same way. "Didn't I Love You," however, is like a polygamous marriage of the cleaner blues sound of Delta Kream, the pots & pans of Dropout Boogie, and the playful & dense arrangements of Thickfreakness. A handful of the original songs on Thickfreakness had these fun, almost silly-sounding guitar riffs ("If You See Me," "Hurt Like Mine,") that were awesome---a quality shared by the guitars in "Didn't I Love You," namely after each chorus. Retrofitted to the medium fidelity and more aggressive speed of Thickfreakness, I think the song would fit right in. The rest of Dropout Boogie is good, consistent Black Keys rock, but I wish each of the other entries had their own version of what makes "Didn't I Love You" stand out. We don't exactly want to see a return to form, but a return to the type of innovation the Keys used to bring to each successive effort---the innovation on display in this song.

Yet I wouldn't want the Keys to do anything with this criticism. For them to bend to the will & wants of their fans would result in a departure from the art they want to create---and we all know the trope that doing so results in bad music. One can only hope that they're still making art for the same reasons they always were, no doubt the same reasons for their previous innovation from record to record. I would love for them to surprise me again with something that I didn't know I wanted. Time will tell.

Word(s): complicated fool

"The activity of art is based on the fact that a man, receiving through his sense of hearing or sight another man’s expression of feeling, is capable of experiencing the emotion which moved the man who expressed it." (Leo Tolstoy in What is Art?)

I'm on a Keys tear---I have a lot to say about this song's record, Chulahoma, and I don't have the time or space in a posting like this to do it justice, but someday I will. I think it's the greatest electric blues record of all time. I know I'm not qualified to make such a claim, but I do feel that way. At the very least, it's the greatest collection of electric blues covers of all time.

"Keep Your Hands off Her" is the greatest possible lead song to what is one of the most compelling (if not the best) collection of blues covers to ever grace the public. Junior Kimbrough's soul was channeled through Dan Auerbach's voice and strings in that dingy Akron basement, creating a mesmerizing, infectious, and profound piece of art. It's the best representation of the phrase "1+1=3"---it's not just a cover, but a thing almost totally distinct from its source material. I'm hard-pressed to think of another song and record that so effectively infects me with the emotions of the artist, and not just the artist performing, but also the artist who inspired them. I can only imagine that how I feel listening to Chulahoma is how Auerbach feels listening to Junior Kimbrough.

Mesmerizing is the word I keep coming back to when I try to analyze this song. The guitar's tone is thick and ethereal---it sounds not like something that physically exists in this world, but something existing inside someone's heart & brain. Single chords are struck at the same time a riff begins to say its piece, and they're allowed to ring out during the length of the phrase, like a singer providing their own backup vocals. Two-note asides say as much as the phrases of an entire verse. Pat Carney's drums are like the steady & certain marching of time---no matter the soliloquies of the guitar, they march on at the same pace, not leading the guitar's time but walking objectively beside it. Absolutely entrancing. Positively mesmerizing. Profound. Words simply fail. If I share this song with you, I'm bearing my heart & soul. That's the extent of which it resonates with me.

Word: infection

I grew up listening to Jack Johnson---in part because of Curious George, but mostly because of my mom. Listening to his music is an autobahn to childhood memory: the car rides, the sunny summer days, the stuffy air of the kitchen, all of the places I haven't been to in years. Today, I'm able to appreciate it for more than just this connection, now having grown, learned, and experienced enough to understand his lyrical themes. The story he tells with this song is by far my favorite on this monumental album of his---despite not being able to directly relate, it still squeezes my heart. A beautiful baby is born (I assume his), but he learns at the same time that a friend of his has two weeks to live, prompting him to consider the complex experience of the combined emotions of joy & grief. I'm continually beside myself at how he manages to communicate this experience with such grace.

"Down the middle drops one more grain of sand

They say that new life makes losin' life easier to understand"

The dilemma must have been a massive whirlwind---a rare emotion---but what he seemed to take from the experience (and is now sharing with us) is nothing short of beautiful. Just rip my heart out man.

Word: memory

This is one of those anthems of youth---the way it resonates with reckless ambition (or those reminiscing on their reckless ambitions) fits it firmly into that category. It's also one of those songs that lots of people have heard but most likely wouldn't be able to name the band. Me included---I got into Supergrass through some of their other material, so when I came upon this one, I remember thinking "these guys did this song?" It's a classic. Its standout feature to me is the piano present across nearly the entire song---it seems most responsible for the fast-paced, carefree tone that the song carries, and is perhaps its most recognizable part.

Word: youth

For me, this song is the product of intentionally stepping outside of the sometimes cyclical listening habits I get into with music. I discovered it through Spotify's personalized "Discover Weekly" playlist which I used to frequent, but haven't done so in some time. It has a rare (to my ears) acoustic melody which remains the same from beginning to end---never getting any louder or quieter---yet all of the parts that grow, add in, and change around it make it sound as if it itself is changing. It's the power of context. Beginning fairly sparse and gentle, the song is eventually full and dramatic, all the while this simple acoustic part marches on. When discovering a song like this, it puts into perspective how our ears are trained by what we listen to most---one listening experience that's different from everything I've grown accustomed to shakes up my whole attitude toward how I seek out and find new music.

Word: payoff

It really needs no introduction---I grew up with the Beatles thanks to several people in my life who exposed me to their music from a young age, and this song is one of the best out of all of them for reconnecting me with some of those first experiences with music. All of Rubber Soul has this very autumny and warm tone to it, but "In My Life" takes the cake for the "most fall" on the record. Instrumentation aside, its the subject matter---reminiscing on times and how they've changed, thinking of lost friends, places that no longer exist, and connecting it all back to there being no meaning to any of those things were their conception of love to change. It shares those ideas of change with fall in that the season is one of the more dramatic changes of pace, and one that isn't always met with welcome. It can be happy, it can be sad---it can be both simultaneously.

Another component to this song's connection to fall for me is to do with a teacher I had in elementary school who played the Beatles for us in class. It was likely that I first heard it in that class, which coincided with fall being near the beginning of the school year. We all must have songs that connect us with memories & nostalgia, or what it felt like to be in a given time, and I am incredibly grateful to have such a connection with this song. It's a song about change which helps me to connect with the change that takes place in my own life.

Word: change

Is this the grooviest Doors song there is? How could anyone sit still once those keys come in at the first verse? I've got some mileage left to go in their discography, but to me right now, this is it. Every aspect to the song is masterful in making this groove-laden, spunky, no-nonsense (except the necessary nonsense) soundscape. Morrison is everywhere and doing everything, and you're at the mercy of what funk he's willing to give you. Thankfully, he's generous. The real star of the show for me in this song is those rhythm keys---their accented punchiness lends to half of what makes this song do danceable. Next would be Morrison's unapologetically gruff lyrical delivery: he establishes quickly and maintains that he's in control of your next 259 seconds, his knack for keeping you guessing (see him change) being the thing to dictate your attention. And pay attention I will!

Word: here

Dave Matthews Band is adjacent to Jack Johnson in its connection to my childhood, only even more integral to reaching back into those memories & feelings of nostalgia. Specifically, this song describes summer. I can feel the beating sun, bare feet on hot pavement, the smell of the interior of my mom's car after it had sat for hours in the sun. Curiously, smell is a sense that's closely linked to my memory with this song, and I think it's because of getting towed along by my mom to various kitchens, grocery stores, and farmers markets (summer, wasn't in school) as she went to culinary school and began her first culinary job. I so cherish this song for that connection---that carefree, beloved time of my life is remembered so vividly through such a beautiful song. Thank you mom, thank you Dave Matthews.

Word: summer

This song simply oozes love relentlessly, in every note, word, and phrase. Diving into the intricacies of love is common in a lot of Dan Auerbach's songwriting, but this one in particular is one of his better lyrical works. It's seemingly about heartbreak, yet when Auerbach approaches that subject matter, it almost never feels explicitly sad to me---more, it communicates an extent: "This is the extent to which you make me feel these things," "this is the extent to which I've given all that I have to you," "this is the extent to which I care (or cared) for you." Like Aaron Frazer's "Perfect Strangers," it seems a celebration that such a strong love could exist, even if through the lens of that love being through. He laments the human condition, how we could want something so badly, and then when things go awry, want nothing more than to be as far away from it as possible---and that we are hopeless to change this about ourselves. It's tragic but romantic, which is what ultimately lends to the song inspiring a positive emotion rather than negative.

"We're praying to get it fast

And we pray it's in the past

Is anything we do, ever gonna last?"

Word: love