Inspiration’s been a bit tough to come by in the last few days. I’ll blame it on the triptonin or tripopherotin or Tripoli or whatever it is in the turkey that makes one so sleepy. I’ll call a mulligan on yesterday’s attempt to bring some bloggy goodness to the world. God knows I wasn’t going to try and shop. I don’t care if they were selling 500’’ plasma-screen TVs at Circuit City for $50 between 4 am and 5 am, I still wasn’t getting up and delving into that madness.
So instead I was a good little boy and went to the gym to work off the oodles of food consumed. After nearly incurring a myocardial infarction after my 4-mile treadmill run, I plopped down at my office desk across the street, where some of my lengthier tomes have been transcribed. I munched on a Lean Pocket and waiting for inspiration to beat me like a red-headed stepchild. Alas, not to be. I ended up buying a hooded sweatshirt emblazoned with The Cheat, thanks to my friend Liz’s birthday/Christmas gift. But thus ended my productivity for the afternoon.
On the way home, though, I was listening to the debut album by Garbage, which by my recollection came out somewhere in the 1992-1993 era. And I forgot how damn good some of the songs on that album were. “Vow”, in particular, was rockin’ my headphone-wearin’ world. So, as per usual, inspiration struck from the realm of music. It had been, I reckoned, quite some time since I’d dropped a mix CD on y’all, so hey, why not? You won’t have to hear faux-deep accounts of emotional strife, no stream-of-consciousness thoughts involving secret love dungeons, and I get to talk about songs I really dig. It’s win-win-win, to be sure.
Once again, I’ve limited myself only to tunes in my personal collection. This time, however, rather than simply account for the natural ebb and flow of a good mix compilation, I’ve added a bit of a theme to it all. And since I’m narcissistic, I’ve made myself the theme. Or rather, the year of me as the theme. It’s not a biography per say, and the songs themselves don’t relate to events in my life on a one-on-one basis, but the overall arc is consistent: that of someone travelling out of emotional strife towards something which, if unclear, is undoubtedly better. In doing so, I’m hoping the compilation in addition deals with many stages of the grieving process and even stages of happiness tinged with danger, ultimately ending up in the place it should: in your betrothed arms. So yea, that hasn’t happened yet. Power of positive thinking though, yes?
Here we go.
“You’re Nobody Until Someone Loves You”, Dean Martin
A good compilation starts off in a few ways. Sometimes, you can use a short novelty track. Say using the “20th Century Fox” theme. Or a snippet of Monty Python dialogue. Both of which I have employed on old-school mix tapes. You can also start off the tape with a high-energy track, such as “Pump Up the Volume” or a heavy rocker. The third way, and the way used here, is to establish the overall theme of the compilation. This type of intro gives the listener a statement of purpose. As such, the song should have thematic, if not musical, relevance to all that follows. And hey, if this song worked for “Swingers”, it works for me. A great song which, if not something you actually believe yourself, nevertheless represents the psyche of our imaginary protagonist.
“There, There”, Radiohead
Normally I don’t like such a musical jump between songs. I’ve avoided it as much as possible for the rest of the compilation, but here it works, and I’ll try to explain why. We’ve gone from a loungy, Big Band ditty to a primal, modern, guitar and drum attack for precisely the emotional response the juxtaposition creates. It’s my musical version of the opening shot to David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet”, which does a beautiful tracking shot over idyllic Suburbia down, down, down, until the camera burrows itself into the ground, revealing the decay and festering insects creeping and crawling. The effect in both cases is similar: stripping away the outward façade to reveal the turmoil under the surface. You’ve got to imagine the former song as watching the protagonist from afar, and then burrowing into his skull with this Radiohead song. Full of imagery of a destructive relationship, with the wailing of Thom Yorke punctuating the hypnotic percussion, it’s an ideal song to begin our exploration of an emotionally troubled mind.
“I Just Don’t Know What to Do With Myself”, The White Stripes
A much smoother musical transition here, with both musical and lyrical similarities between the two. More importantly, the dynamics of this song allows us as listeners to cool off a bit from the driving rhythm of “There, There”, which will be important for the tracks which follow. This selection also follows one of my tenets, which is “Introduce people to unfamiliar tracks by familiar artists.” For those who only know the band from “Seven Nation Army”, this is hopefully a nice surprise. God knows all of “Elephant” opened my eyes to the band, and the quieter tracks such as this one aided my quick conversion to being a White Stripes fan. The loud/soft dynamics match the emotional content of the musical perfectly, and Jack White sings the hell of this song. Damnit, just buy this record this instant if you don’t own it.
“Angie”, The Rolling Stones
My second favorite Rolling Stones song (“Loving Cup” being the first) and, to my knowledge, one that doesn’t get a lot of cred or airplay. Oh well, I love it. And it’s my compilation, and I can cry if I want to. One of the few songs where I actually buy into what Mick Jagger is singing. Mostly, he’s super cool, swaggering, “I will have sex with your mom while your sister watches”, and hey, that’s all well and good, but here I get a vulnerability I don’t get in most of the Stones’ material (not even songs such as “Ruby Tuesday”). Go ahead, listen to lines like, “Angie, you’re beautiful, but ain’t it time we said good-bye?” and be unaffected, you cold-hearted miscreant. If the White Stripes song is about that phase where you’re in your hand-wringing, don’t get out of bed stage, then “Angie” is about that part where you try to accept the end of a relationship as the best thing in the long run. It still hurts, but you intellectually can rationalize behind the tears.
“Anna Begins”, Counting Crows
And here’s the phase where irrationality takes reason out behind the shed and goes all “Deliverance” on it. “Anna” is one of those perfect meshes of lyric and music, to the point where music lends a gravitas to the admittedly too wordy at times lyrics. Consider the following lines:
It seems like I should say "as long as this is love..."
But it’s not all that easy so maybe I should just
Snap her up in a butterfly net
Pin her down on a photograph album
I am not worried
I’ve done this sort of thing before
When you listen to this part of the song, the word “before” is punctuated by a cymbal crash, which resonates through a few seconds of almost sheer silence, as if letting you the listener absorb the utter psychotic nature of this narrator. This is a man who seeks to love through control. Of course the two are antithetical, but at this point of emotional despair, you can’t often see that. So we invent schemes and plans that are utter bollocks but ones we share with our friends as if we’ve gone and invented cold fusion. And we can’t see just how far gone we are at that point. All we can see is loss, and we cope by inventing ways to counter that loss. There’s a few ways you can interpret this song, and in the context of this compilation, it’s easy to see this song as a fever dream of a relationship long gone. All the warm memories are punctuated by the cold reality he keeps pushing away. But, as the last lines tell us, “She disappears, and oh lord I’m not ready for this sort of thing…”
“Happier”, Guster
At some point, though, all that does subside. Unless you’re nucking futs, in which case, just stay away from me. Especially if you’re known by three names. Y’all be assassins.
Point is, it does get better, bit by bit. And sometimes you can truly see the better, post-breakup path and/or life. “Happier” is mostly about a semi-sarcastic send off to the person whom you are no longer seeing. Still has more than a touch of bitterness, but much less so inwards. The narrator in this particular song is not one happy with his lot, but he’s doing far better than his compadre in “Anna Begins”. As much as it would be nice to think that you need only come to terms with your own life as a newly single person, you usually have to eventually come to grips with the person who’s no longer with you. Sometimes, that’s a nasty path through awkward encounters, passive-aggressive emails, and “he said/she said” between your friends, but you do end up on the other side eventually. Hopefully without too many scrapes and bruises.
(Plus, hey, you really can’t go wrong with any “Lost and Gone Forever” track by Guster. One of the most misplaced titles in the bargain bin at Tower ever. Snapped this puppy up last summer, and worth every penny.)
“Lost Cause”, Beck
Which isn’t to say you come out of such a path a whole being. Far from it. Stronger, most likely. But still prone to some backsliding. Usually, right around now you get a semi-regular dose of “events/places that trigger some wistful memories”. They aren’t visceral at this point, but if you had a choice between having the memory versus, not, you’ll usually choose the latter option (most likely by ordering a beer, if available).
“Lost Cause” also calls into focus that part where active antagonism, if previously present, has dissipated. Beck in this track is not out for blood…actually, he seems if anything fatigued by the effort he’s previously put out towards the girl who gone and done him wrong. Being angry and/or spiteful takes WORK, and unless you've got the constitution of Khan chasing after Kirk, chances are at some point you throw up your own white flag and cease the antagonism.
At this point, then, as in the next song, what’s left in your exhausted self is the realization than not only will you not get what you’ve lost back, but maybe you don’t want it back.
“When The Stars Go Blue”, Ryan Adams
We still romanticize, though. Only human nature, unless say you caught him in bed with half of your sorority, in which case remembering all those times he bought your flowers may do little to ease your mind.
This song also belongs in this slot on the compilation because it is the sparsest. I like the idea of having a song here which, like “Lost Cause”, is structured around a simple acoustic guitar riff, but without all the sonic bells and whistles of the Beck track. It’s important because this is the last song in this particular compilation where the protagonist is alone, and I want something that represents, in a way, the utter emptiness which is the calm before the “storm” of meeting that next special someone. You go to work, you go home, you watch some TV while cooking dinner, you go to bed. Life’s pretty uneventful. Quiet. And “When the Stars Go Blue” captures both the simplicity and melancholy of that situation.
OK, thus ends Cycle 1 of this compilation. Cycle 2 is here.
Posted by Ryan McGee at November 29, 2003 11:40 AM