The Glenrays :: Haunted By Repetition
You may be surprised to hear that the soundtrack of day-to-day life in the laboratory was not written by Thomas Dolby. In science, those blinding ‘Eureka!’ moments are few and far between. Unless perhaps you happen to be uncommonly lucky or especially brilliant—moving with God-like intuition through that Pyrex labyrinth—your average yeti in a lab coat operates more on rigor and reproducibility than wizardry or perhaps evil genius. Harboring certain autistic tendencies is helpful.
In the era of ‘Big Science’ you ask small questions with fine focus. The puzzle is a masterpiece but sometimes you’re left feeling like a beat cop working the sidelines in the off-shift just across town from the forensic investigation of the crime of creation and being. The soundtrack gets boring. My day-to-day lab work sometimes feels like a begging and often repeated conversation between me and the reticent bacteria I married, I mean ‘study.’ Thus, playing god is more like playing a slow game of tennis than the average mediocre tennis player may realize. You volley a question, wait for the answer, react, repeat, repeat, repeat…
But don’t be sad! The soundtrack is always changing. And maybe the next track will be Thomas Dolby.
Haunted By Repetition (1.5MB MP3)
The Glenrays (homepage)
Polaris :: Summerbaby
The Adventures of Pete & Pete episode A Hard Day’s Pete pre-dates the song blog by more than a few (it was originally aired in 1994) but is, nevertheless, a tribute to the Favorite Song and listener ownership worthy of song blog distinction. On his morning bike ride to school Little Pete, whom we are told has never had a favorite song EVER, happens upon a band (Polaris) practicing in a garage (what? at 8am?!?!). He pauses to listen and with a nod from front man, Mark Mulcahy, Pete has his first Favorite Song.
It’s the kind of Favorite Song that invades your brainscape. All the roads in your mind seem to lead there and no train of thought can stop that melody meme from jumping right back into your frontal lobe. For Pete, the song lingers but the band doesn’t: that garage remains empty ever after. The creators of the song are no longer relevant; the song’s fate rests in the hands of its great appreciators. A desperate Pete forms his own band, The Blowholes, to find his song, a feat that requires him to return to ‘the spot where he first felt that feeling’—the spot where the song became his. It’s the sweet story of first love.
This song blog is the product of seasoned appreciators; Casanovas who woo their quarry with one ear open for the next. We write these love letters with expiration dates and share them with all our friends. Each Favorite Song comes and consumes us until we are taken with the next. We offer them no commitment, but we love them all in turn and understand that quality is more than a question of fidelity.
Summerbaby (2.4MB MP3)
Polaris (homepage)
(note — Polaris was most of the members of Miracle Legion come together to record a few songs for the show.)
The Collectors :: My Love Delights Me
This is a sweet song for warmer weather about being in love and loving love and having the whole world around you bow down to your resonating happiness; the wild strawberries, the boulevards, the summer wind, etc. Yet despite all the flourish and fanfare, the nonsensical chorus and general whimsy are set against a darker Solomon Grundy-esque backdrop giving nod to the inescapable stages of life—from a man in a cradle to a man in the grave—echoing the futility of life and world-washing-its-hands-of-you stance of the nursery rhyme.
Remember?
Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Grew worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday.
That was the end of
Solomon Grundy.
Oh, how the world treats us with such unbearable lightness!
Yet, The Collectors maintain their claim on happiness and state of their love “like summer and stars, we are constant, forever.” Now, neither summer nor stars are constant (summer gives way to winter, stars give way to sunlight) but they are consistently not constant. A cycle of birth and rebirth not unlike the fortune of mankind. From the cradle we are damned to the grave, but within that short breath of life we are offered the time to enjoy and be happy—now that’s the kind of benevolent pessimism I can really get behind and take with me to the beach/barbecue/partytime/whatever.
My Love Delights Me
The Collectors (wikipedia)
Tilly & the Wall :: Nights of the Living Dead
Nights of the Living Dead is like the voice of my teenage ghost. The allure of this song is its candid account of the chaos of high school years and the sweet supposition that rebellion is routine. “God put down your gun, can’t you see we’re dead” isn’t a plea for help nor a collective lament about some greater existential plight, its more like ‘duh’. “That’s the way it is that’s the way it’s always been.” Granted, for me, ‘reckless’ was nights of contraband wine coolers and petty vandalism, but let’s suppose sentiment is more important than degree. Propelling yourself into the night on the motivation that you were ‘up to no good’ was vital and defining and really, really fun: bottomless. Nowadays, ‘reckless’ has been compartmentalized into manageable, quantum actions that won’t disrupt those everyday responsibilities: order a shot, order dessert, make out, whatever, there are no more deep waters to test. So while I can really see and hear this song, I have to admit it’s through the foggy glasses of nostalgia and from the comfort of my driver’s seat on my commute to work in the morning. “All the high school kids they’re all fucked up” and frankly, I’m a little worried about them.
Nights of the Living Dead
Tilly & the Wall (homepage)
(note — A different version appears on the album Wild Like Children in 2004.)
Oblivians :: Ride That Train
The album Oblivians play 9 songs with Mr. Quintron, in its wild salute to the energy and spirit of gospel music, did my record shelf a favor. This final studio album of Memphis’ garage punk heroes shows that the fellas can sing songs about feeling good being bad AND feeling good being good. It starts with a fever that only twice gives pause for introspection, allowing the listener (and perhaps the band) to catch their breath. As the story goes, Greg, Jack, and Eric Oblivian dragged Mr. Quintron from the Fifth Ward to record the album in one eight hour session, a superhuman feat given the soul-summoning, ass-shaking piece of work they created. It must have been an exhausting eight hours.
9 songs has got traditional favorites (Live the Life, What’s the matter now?), a cover (Mary Lou by Ronnie Hawkins and the Hawks), and six of Greg Oblivian’s own, including Ride that Train. And if songs are moods, this is one of the best ones. A masterwork of rhythm and repetition as Greg trumpets an invitation that goes beyond toe-tapping and ultimately makes me run around my room with the kind of abandon Billy Idol mused about in Dancing with Myself. Who needs bass?
Greg Cartwright sure can write a song. And he’s got a brain full of 50’s and 60’s blues, soul, gospel, and rock-n-roll; the fabulous and obscure. It’s the kind of brain you want to borrow and download to your hard drive. Borrowing this record from my roommate way back in Ohio marked the birth of my love for soul, blues, and garage. Greg knows what’s got it. And ever since my first listen, I’ve wanted it, too.
Ride That Train
Oblivians (Trouser Press site)
What’s the matter now? videos here and here
(note — Also, check out their other projects: Reigning Sound, Greg Oblivian & the Tip Tops, and Compulsive Gamblers.)