Today's pair of songs are alike in 3 ways: they feel hand-made out of clumps of grass, they're as silly-serious as a renaissance fair or a high-school opera, and they both come from bands recommended to me by San Diego's own David Barclay.
Taken directly from his post about them on Popsheep (since he seems to have the only digital files in existence) this is a skittery, wild-eyed, jungle-nursery song that goes off first in every direction, running in circles, doing loop-the-loops, and rolling its eyes at heaven, and then, as the bassline steps in, things fall right into line and sway right up into the trees. They sing, lips above their heads, the chorus, and then the bass, like some meek but obeyed choir director/babysitter, lets them go again until it's time to make sense. [site]
It's weird, this is a song your grandmother totally would play, but you could never play it for her, she'd think you were making fun of her. This skipping and wind-blown jaunty tune is about "lessons learned" from the travels of youth. But if you listen to the whole thing, it seems the only lesson is "everything will go right the first time". Which is, in part, right. Since things can only go one way, that way may as well be right instead of wrong. But in this mini-putt-castle version of olde tymes, life's all mead and laughter, which is hilarious to imagine, but the farthest thing from imparting wisdom. I'd rather take life lessons from Marmaduke, at least his actions have consequences. [MySpace]
Posted by Dan at January 15, 2007 4:57 AMIf you're going to bring up Marmaduke, I'm going to have to bring up Joe Mathlete's insightful explanations of Marmaduke.
As always, thanks for the songs.
Posted by Steve Ely at January 16, 2007 10:17 PM"Since things can only go one way, that way may as well be right instead of wrong."
hey d. burr, lets write a manifesto. We will gather the spinozists, giggling nihilists and sobbing optimists of montreal and we will KNOW EVERYTHING. or at least we will obtain more than adequate knowledge of the causes of things.
incidentally, my grandmother wouldn't play that song, but she would play something close. She had this one cassette of sort of nova scotian/irish twinged folk music, she would take it with her in the car when she needed to get away from her mother (who she tended until the old lady died this last summer) and drive down the monotonous country roads of new hampshire, listening to this song: "ferried away". The only song by that name I can find digitally is by kate bush and its horrid, but the one I'm thinking of is marked by the phrase "oer the hills of caledonia, its more than the heart can bear". It made her cry and cry and cry.
she and this song are the opposite of the mini putt castle, they are all shot through with regret and the things they've done wrong. better imparters of wisdom? i don't know. maybe so. causes...
The tape was assumed lost when my stepdad crashed the car, but I unwittingly found it and threw it in the tape player last visit and, running into the room with gasps, she told me she had thought it was gone forever. Sometimes I live to make my grandmother happy.
anyway, SOMEone's gonna be sorry they EVER encouraged me to post more.
much,
f.
no, no, no. you're a skitter-voiced charm and you're great. write your whole damn diary on here, we'd love it.
I have the title to our treatise, but no content:
The Shared Plate: Identity as Indulgence
ps. you'd be writing most of it.
Posted by dan at January 17, 2007 2:41 AMthank you for your words.
you are a saint
AL
Bird Names
Posted by B. Names at February 13, 2007 6:46 PM
and it will begin playing. All songs are also available to download: just right-click the link and choose 'Save as...'
