A friend from work just broke up with a guy she's been with for six months. She knew from the beginning that he was not a forever boy. He was sweet and cute and treated her spectacularly well, but he didn't have the edge she wanted. When he first said he loved her she experienced a crisis of conscience, but let it go with the hope that she would eventually "love" him, as well. She didn't, so needless to say, this break-up was in the works for a long time. Despite all her mental preparations, when she actually pulled the trigger she was a mess for a few days. I knew how she felt. It wasn't the fact of being alone, or concern over actually missing him; it was the feeling that she had done a bad thing to a good person. It was the lingering sadness from knowing that he truly did love her (as naive as that love may have been) and that she had broken his heart.
I say all this only to introduce my favorite ballads of the reluctant heart-breaker. I started this list with the intention of burning an olde-fashioned "Mix CD" for this woebegone friend, but by the time I had gathered even a smattering of songs, her woe was actually gone. So I put it to the viewing public: what classics am I missing?
Dar Williams - February
James - Tomorrow
Fiona Apple - Carrion
(Her intro here is a bit much, but accurately illustrates the point, I guess.)
Bob Dylan - Don't Think Twice It's Alright
Ai DiFranco - Sorry I Am
I've included Jeff Buckley, Bjork, and Death Cab for Cutie, in addition to the album versions of the songs above on this mix:
Alright, let's get this over with. In 1999, I was a sophomore in college. After an "80's Night" at my frat house (or co-ed literary society, if you prefer) one of my siblings sent me an IM to say that I had reminded him of Nena, with my bandana-around-the-forehead look. Embarrassingly, I had to look up Nena on the Napster. "Oh yeah! I remember who she is; she sings the Luftballons song!"
And that's where it started, but it's not nearly the end.
Back in the glory days of Napster, I downloaded any damned thing that crossed my mind. Not content with both the German and English versions of 99 Luftballons, I downloaded every Nena song I could find, including this one:
Okay, whatever, no big deal; everyone has some weakness for 80's music and mine manifested itself prominently in German pop. So what?
So Napster listed Nur Getraumt under another artist as well: Blumchen.
If you know where this story is going, you should probably be ashamed of yourself, too. I don't know if this helps my case, but I don't actually speak German.
Fuck it:
In the near decade that I've known and loved Blumchen, I've never found anyone who shows anything but pure disgust when they catch me listening. And they really have had to catch me! I learned quickly (from my roommates in college) that this was something to hide; something no one would understand. For a while I reveled in that and held up my Blumchen-love as an example of my free spirit and disdain for convention. There was a time when you could tell I was getting ready for a party because I had dragged my boombox into the bathroom to rock out while I applied my super-hot make-up. I'd yell along (phonetically) with the oh-so-catchy choruses. How was I to resist this "fantasy techno," "happy hardcore" or "hyper-pixie-techno-pop" (my phrase)?
Over the years, I have developed a well-deserved shame in regards to this habit. I still listen; don't get me wrong, only Blumchen or Garrison Keillor can get me to clean the kitchen. But I quickly turn down the volume if I here a key in the lock or footsteps in the hall. I value my relationship with my roommate too much to let him hear this mess.
To be honest, the chagrin has gotten worse since I started this post. In all the years I'd been listening, I'd never seen a video of this woman, let alone seen her (twice!) dancing on a damned beach.
(ed. note: today's post is brought to you by guest writer elizabeth. Please, enjoy)
I have been an unabashed lyrics person since Alanis Morrissette jammed her jagged little pill down my 15 year-old throat (okay, maybe I'm slightly abashed). A song's musical composition may be the hook that brings me in, but it's generally the lyrics that keep me listening. This is not a hard and fast rule, but it does begin to cause problems for me when trying to listen to artists with...ahem...unconventional vocal styles. So, for the purposes of this exercise, I'll take a look at a few artists who I truly enjoy, but whose voices began by grating on me like a fucking power-sander.
The first category, I classify as "What the Hell Were You Thinking," and in my mind, the two greatest offenders are Colin Meloy of The Decemberists, and Joanna Newsom. Both make use of extremely whimsical, imaginative language. Both claim strong literary sensibilities and both offer consistently heartfelt performances. But...
Why, Colin? Did someone tell you, in your early days of performing, that you would sound better if you just went a little more nasal. And that if you keep a Jolly Rancher under your tongue while you sing, it'll make you sound foreign or something. Tell me who it was, 'cause I'm willing to bet they were fucking with you.
I understand that it's a sound; it's distinctive, sure, but it's also the reason I have to tell friends to "just give it a chance." This is not music that speaks for itself; this requires active advocacy. Same deal with Joanna Newsome:
Great stuff, right? She plays the harp for Christ's sake! But try explaining to curious friends why she chose to sound like an 11 year-old. I've seen interviews with her; she does know how to talk like a normal (articulate, even!) human-being, but she's sticking to her self-described "untrainable" style. What's worse: she doesn't like that people call her vocals "child-like." Joanna, sweetie, you're 26 years old and you sound like a child. Pitchfork called your style "bracing." Do you like that better? As in: "brace yourself, this chick might start singing!" *Sigh* Whatever, you know I'll listen anyway.
Okay, I've gotten the big ones out of the way. On to category two: "You Have No Business Being a Vocalist."
Witness exhibit A: John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats
I love you, John. I do. But look, why not write songs and then give them to people who can sing? Ben Gibbard did a much better job with that same song right here. I understand it's your song (and I really like it, I mean it) but just think how many more people would listen if you weren't the one singing!
On the mix at the bottom of the post (there's a mix at the bottom of this post!), I've included the vocalist from Young People, Jeff Mangum from Neutral Milk Hotel ad Clem Snide in category two, as well.
Lastly - and this is probably more about me than the bands, themselves - is the "Yes, I Get It, You're Awesome" category. Category three is populated with the overly dramatic and clearly affected vocals:
My biggest problem with this group is that I can't prevent myself from imagining what people they went to high school with think of this. I just assume it's overcompensation.
Now that I've spewed vitriol on all these artist, I really do recommend that you listen to the mix and give them a chance to woo you. As I discovered over the last three seasons of The Venture Brothers, the voice does not make the person.
