10 Songs About Silence

In a sort of self-effacing nod to the lack of writing in this space over the last month, I thought it'd be fun to do a post featuring songs about silence. Of course, it seems like an immediate disagreement of terms to have a song, something inherently noisy and evocative, about the utter lack of sound. Luckily, the tracks below do a great job of capturing the unsettling nature of silence, and perhaps even the peaceful aspects, in their meandering strings of chords, vocals and beautiful tones. Since this is the Future, I've created a Spotify playlist featuring each of the songs I've mentioned, so feel free to listen along. Watch out, here comes the breakdown!

The List

1. Simon and Garfunkel; "The Sound of Silence" - Let's start with the obvious shall we? While it's one of the most disputed songs, even finding the 42nd spot in Blender's "The 50 Worst Songs Ever" list, it set the tone for songs about quiet, and disquiet. Yes, it's a schmaltzy 20-something, "no one understands mine or the world's pain" track, but it's hard to argue it's impact on culture.  
2. Depeche Mode; "Enjoy The Silence" - Again, here we are with a wanky song about silence, but one that's also insanely fun despite it's ultra-direct mopey approach to the subject. "The Mode" were at the top of their game on Violator. 
3. Exitmusic; "The Silence" - The common theme among songs about silence is the tone and energy. We're not talking about uplifting stuff here. Still, Exitmusic's "The Silence" finds a way to be both lilting and complex, but also catchy, especially with a fondness-generating chorus filled with swelling guitar wails.
4. Crystal Castles; "Year of Silence" - If you know Crystal Castles, and I know you do, you know that they're never silent, or even particularly downbeat. Even on "Year of Silence" the band creates a dense veil of sound so thick that you can't think through it. In a way, the song creates silence because it overwhelms all sound, but more on that in a bit...
5. Pavement; "Silence Kit" - The post-Joe-Cocker doing "With A Little Help From My Friends" style in this cowbell thumping Pavement track is a red herring because the philosophical ilk of the songs lyrics is what touches most on the theme. It's a song about shutting out all the shit, and also demolishing music, and also... masturbating.
6. John Cage; "4'33"" - The ultimate song of silence, Cage's exercise in listening to the environment and considering all things music chases the very thing I was hinting at with the Crystal Castles' track. In actually silence we hear too much, but with the fuzzy tone of Cage's experiment, we hear our thoughts and begin to question the very nature of listening, to music, and otherwise.
7. PJ Harvey; "Silence" - This track takes a more traditional approach to the silence concept. Spare and delicate, Harvey crafts a poetic lyrical environment that's both tragic and beautiful. And it deals with the dark inside hope for silence, even among the world and people we love. Silence is freedom, and a prison.
8. Matisyahu; "Silence" - I know, the titles are creative here. Matisyahu's slow, beautiful, strum-light song about quiet is one of the best to listen to when seeking a sense of peace. Like Harvey's (above) this "Silence" is its own environment, obsessed with destroying distractions and mistakes, to find a silent place of peace.
9. Portishead; "Silence" - Another title that's right on the money. But Portishead's version of silence is the most haunting, and not in the emotional way. Instead, the vibe feels dark and ominous, even as the track slowly builds, there's an impending sense of doom. It's invigorating, but also terrifying. The beat is a build up and when it cuts out and the lyrics begin, there's no doubt that this silence is the worst kind of all.
10. Mazzy Star; "Mary of Silence" - We'll end on a slightly more chipper note. Mazzy Star's "Mary of Silence" has a similar darkness, but this time it's much more sensual, sexy and dangerous in the good way. If something of the horror genre is about to happen, it's going to be in the seductive vampiress variety. Or a hot, sticky, sweaty drug trip.

Thanks for enjoying 10 Songs About Silence. Again, you can find the Spotify playlist here: Songs of Silence

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What's It Mean?: "Somebody That I Used To Know."

What's It Mean? may take off as something bigger, where we discuss the meanings of songs, and not the versions of explications that come from SongMeanings.com, etc. Let's get a little academic and have fun with it. But mostly, this idea is born from the insane popularity and over-play attached to the Gotye song "Somebody That I Used To Know." At its heart, the track seems to be a sad lament on lost love, and even if you Google around, you get some common theories that avatar Gotye is sad, and avatar Kimbra tells him that "they broke up for reason, so stop being hung up on me." The text is deeper than that, though, and far more sad.

Our main character, Gotye for all intents and purposes, is singing to an ex, about how she left him and now treats him like they never happened. He opens the song saying both that he "felt so happy [he] could die" in the previous relationship, but that he also felt "so lonely in your company" and that "that was love and it's an ache [he] still remembers." It's a complicated 4-line stanza. He's already establishing himself as an unreliable narrator. Gotye never really loves the woman he's singing to, and admits that without admitting it, right away. He was happy, but lonely, as if he was only really dating a simulacrum of a person to begin with. And the final line is an admission that love is imperfect, but that he has also idealized love to such an extent that it's a concept, rather than a dialog between two people. Right away, we can argue that Gotye's avatar here is unsympathetic, and perhaps a bit of headcase.

In Stanza #2, he ups the ante on these concepts. Love is "a certain type of sadness" that he becomes addicted to. It's a drug, not a dialog. It's a torture of sorts, like a lashing administered upon himself like he's an ascetic monk. And it was always "resignation," a sort of pathetic acceptance that he wasn't going to find someone else. We have to remember here that this is HIS perspective, so it's not objective. Now, imagine how you'd feel if your significant other said that they were resigned to be with you. That's shitty. That's being told, essentially, "I can't do any better, so oh well." It's a kick in the fucking teeth. And even as Gotye says that they decided they would still be friends, he's "glad that is was over." Those aren't the words of a sad man. Those are the callous words of someone who never loved where he was, and then has the terrible audacity to complain about how his actions led to equal and opposite reactions. It's a serious moment of psuedo-sociopathy.

When we break into the chorus, the catchy, wonderful chorus (And don't get me wrong, I love this song. It's beautiful, but I'm arguing, misunderstood.), Gotye cries out that while he didn't love her, and she made him sad and lonely and addictive, and don't forget, "resigned," that she didn't have to "cut [him] off" from her entirely. He doesn't want to be treated like a stranger, either, or to think that she changed her number, but there are two big things. First, why if you felt lonely, sad, addicted, and resigned, would you want to hear from that person again. And two, why are you calling someone about whom you can say such things. Maybe some would argue that love is that complex, and yes, I agree to a large part of that, but he should be SURPRISED. And that's the tone of chorus, pained surprise.

Then Kimbra stops by to offer the female perspective. She tells him how he "screwed [her] over" and left her obsessing that it was her fault. Clearly our protagonist is an asshole, or at least a case can be made that his callous interpretation of their relationship, combined with her frank heartbreak, means that he wasn't really in it at all, and isn't a good guy. The kicker comes when Kimbra sings the "You said that you could let it go/ And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know..." part. She's saying, right there, that Gotye's avatar was talking about his ex, before her, his previous ex, when she and him were together. He never let go of the woman before her, and it destroyed them. And now, he's repeating his destructive pattern of only loving the gone and unattainable, instead of loving the here and now. It's really difficult for me to even conceive of a case where Gotye's character is a good guy here. He seems at total fault. And frankly, it's devastating to consider that he'd get back out there and do the whole thing again to another woman.

Because he repeats the chorus, and that sentiment about feeling ditched and left behind by his former paramour, but it's done in such a way that it's clear he's not listening to Kimbra's advice, or her feelings. He's a relationship Chernobyl doomed to repeat over and over and over again. And that's the song. Disagree? Drop some comments below. If nothing else, let's have a little dialog because I don't want this to be one-sided. And as I said, "Somebody That I Used To Know" is a great song. And while it will be destroyed by radio overplay, it's a huge sonic bright spot in this still young decade. Dig. And that's for hanging out to find out What's It Mean?

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Often Awesome The Series nominated for a Webby Award

The heartbreaking and inspiring series, Often Awesome, that chronicled the Popovers songwriter and musical genius Tim LaFollette's battle against ALS has been nominated for a Webby. And a Vimeo award. Please take a moment to vote at the links below. We can come together to raise awareness of ALS, to preserve the memory of an impeccable, irreplaceable young man, and maybe even help guide the hands that could discover a cure.

Thank you.

Webby: http://pv.webbyawards.com/ballot/104
Vimeos: https://vimeo.com/awards/vote/series

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Podcast: It's A Thing! #18

That's right, It's A Thing! is back! This is the 18th episode, but you don't need to keep count. A triumphant return for Mikey and Jared, after a 6, SIX! month hiatus is a CROWcast, recorded live from the lost city of Atlantic... err... Atlantis. The boys talk goth soundtrack from beneath the bubble of underwater exploration. Despite the completely harrowing conditions, our amazing heroes manage to not kiss for yet another week. Also, they swear, punch, play music, and do NO WRONG. They feature music by Violent Femmes, and guess what? Jared makes a GUIDED BY VOICES reference! OH MY FUCKING GOD!? When the Crow movie soundtrack came out, Jared was 14, and Mikey was stacking alphabet blocks. Look out! There are crow puns everywhere. Don't be fooled. The guys talk about the ethics of selling songs, selling out and using art to actually live. It's a beautiful moment! For an effortless segue! Does God like the Cure? Is he allowed, or will Robert Smith's darkness subsume his everlasting light. Oh there's music! Oh there's mayhem! Oh it's totally mind-dazzlingly wonderful. Can you handle the sheer It's A Thing!-ness of this? I don't think you can. And everyone will laugh at it you if you don't prove me wrong. Listen up. It's a thing! It is the "way of the future."

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Punch Brothers cover The Cars

I hate to re-blog as the first thing in a short while, but here's something excellent from the Punch Brothers and the wunderkinds at the A.V. Club. Enjoy!



Punch Brothers cover The Cars

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Birdy - Birdy

Spotify is quite possibly the internet's best, craftiest, music marketing device. Yes, it's also a delightful, wonderful and exceptional music playing, seeking and loving platform, but Spotify wants you to check out what it wants you to check out. While pondering a review of the Shins' newest Port of Morrow, a great album in its own right, but one that you'll like if you like the Shins or dislike if you don't, Spotify pushed Birdy's (15 year-old Brit Jasmine van den Bogaerde) new album titled Birdy into my ad-susceptible face. The pitch there was that Birdy covers Bon Iver's "Skinny Love" and being the sucker for covers that I am--Oh fuck, I'm a sucker for covers!--I decided to give the album a look. Turns out, van den Bogaerde/Birdy is pretty damn good. Within Birdy she covers Phoenix's "1901," Fleet Foxes' "White Winter Hymnal," The Postal Service's "The District Sleeps Alone," and James Taylor's "Fire and Rain." Birdy does each song justice in a way, but as is the problem with the dearth of covers brought to us by the internet, these songs don't change very much. That's not always a problem, but paradoxically, it also always is a problem.

Birdy's smooth, airy, pure voice is a joy to listen to. She evokes pain and sweetness in each held note. But, she also takes little in the way of chances here. Now, she's 15. And who am I to judge her work? It's remarkable that she so confidently and fully sings each of these tracks, but I would trade the purity of her voice for some more risk. Each of those key covers sound like slower versions of the originals. It's the same problem that struck in the AV Club's second cover of 2012's AV Undercover when Memoryhouse covers the Police's "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic." It's not bad, but it doesn't add anything to the song. Or to the experience. Being able to sing does not a rock star/musician make. We've had years of American Idol winners who GO NOWHERE to prove that fact. Birdy does great work with "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight," but otherwise, the music is an exercise in re-hearing the already heard. The best covers flip a song over and teach it some new tricks; see the Sex Pistols' "My Way," Lou Barlow's "Round and Round," and Johnny Cash's "I Hung My Head" for examples.

Birdy is enjoyable, and emotionally wrought, though, and that makes it a worthwhile listen and a great album. If nothing else, this is a promising glimpse into what van den Bogaerde can do. The songs are all winners. And her turn on them, sad, sometimes jazzy, sometimes with a breathy indie dream-pop flutter, works. The judgements I make above are more about covers than about Birdy's execution. It's a larger issue that either one must do it as good as the original, or make it one's own. With Birdy there are moments that teeter on the edge of either one, but never seem to redefine the original text. It's a pleasant, kinda, sweet, heartfelt and enjoyable listen, but these covers won't supplant their source materials.

Listen to the album on Spotify here: Birdy – Birdy

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5 Things We Can Still Learn from Joseph Heller's Catch-22

Despite being a whopping 51 years old, Joseph Heller's Catch-22 remains an American cultural touchstone. Whether you've read it or not, you've been party to its signature Catch-22, now a philosophical concept summing up the old "damned if you do, damned if you don't" paradox. But it's more than the titular catch. Heller's novel, a cornucopia of satire, reaches into the majority of the best (I'll qualify the best as the most critically acclaimed) entertainment in pop culture. You can see Heller's satirical influence in each episode of 30 Rock or Community, as well as inside the best of Wes Anderson's films. Not to mention, of course, the long-running M*A*S*H. Big characters, confusingly chaotic scenarios and conversations that are at once hilarious and revelatory fill the pages of the book. And while Heller keeps things purposefully confusing, mirroring the chaos and nonsensical nature of war, his cartoonish, but believable characters confront stark, horrifying, delightful, and cogent facts about human life. Where The Walking Dead went wrong all over Season 2, spending time discussing the issues directly, Heller's Catch-22 features philosophical developments that come from conversations that aren't even pointed toward such ends. In short, Heller's novel is a finely tuned machine, made so much more obvious by how un-fine and un-tuned World War II is presented.

There are definitely more than 5 total life lessons in Catch-22, but if the internet has taught us anything, it's that we don't much care for long lists, unless they're episodic, include Firefly's Nathan Fillion or Buffy and Dollhouse alum Eliza Dushku, or happen to feature cute animals in cuter-than-or-equally-cute-to hats. So, here are 5 things we can still learn from Catch-22.
 

The List

1. It's crazy to follow the rules all the time, but it's crazy not to follow them sometimes. Yossarian's novel-long quest to get out of the war leads him into numerous confrontations with mission-raising Colonel Cathcart and the titular catch. Our protagonist finds safe and reasonable ways to hide from an unfair war, either by checking into the hospital, running around naked, or escaping into lots of carnal activities with prostitutes and even the wife of one of his commanding officers. Yossarian fears that he's going insane, but he fears dying more, and all of his "crazy" behaviors serve to keep him sane, arguably MORE sane than the rest of his squadron. The trick is that Yossarian also knows when to abide by the rules, too. His moral compass remains finely tuned. He follows the rules of life and of love for humanity, fighting to save Nately's Whore's kid sister, and to punish the men who stand to gain most from unjust situations.
2. People, Places, and Events are always more than meets the eye. The squad camp at Pianosa isn't a well-oiled military machine. It's a summer camp for kids playing as men in uniform. Rank in Catch-22 more often than not gives reason to mistrust rather than to assume experience and clarity of vision. Major Major is promoted just because. Yossarian receives Captain for making a mistake that gets men killed. Colonels Cathcart and Korn want only to become Generals for the title, not because they wish to serve better. Milo's syndicate is a business in name only, an elaborate scheme of moving materials to make him a personal profit and get whatever he wants. Even the squadron is not a cohesive group, a team. Instead it's a random assortment of ill-fitting pieces. Of course, then there's Washington Irving, the Chaplain, the soldier in white and the soldier who saw everything twice. For Heller the world is not what it seems, capped perfectly with Orr's epic escape from war by crashing on purpose and the disguises Nately's Whore wears as she pursues Yossarian.
3. Capitalism and other institutions are often blanket excuses for free-reign corruption. Milo's syndicate runs amok, even playing both sides of the war, helping the Germans attack while coordinating a bombing on the Germans by the Americans. For Milo, it's always a matter of business. Business excuses all trespasses. The Military within the text operates the same way, built as a mechanism for high-ranking ladder-climbing, rather than as a system to keep men from harms way unless absolutely necessary. The fringes of society provide the most clarity, from the old man in the brothel, who tells Nately that Italy will outlast America in history, to the halls and wards of the hospital where men and boys at war are most free to be human.
4. Death is Life. Life is Death. The key revelation for Yossarian comes from trying to save Snowden. It's the moment Heller calls Snowden's secret. And it's a secret only because we choose so often and constantly to ignore it. When Yossarian removes Snowden's flak jacket and the boy's viscera spill onto the bomber's floor, he is confronted with the truth of life. Life is a means of conveyance toward Death. No matter what our bodies show on the outside, youth, beauty, virility, survival, we are always dying. It's that moment that flips the switch in Yossarian that he won't fly anymore. He doesn't want to speed himself toward death, knowing full well that he's already on that trajectory. Heller's work with this sub-story specifically links to Julia Kristeva's Approaching Abjection. For Kristeva, we hate the things we hate because they remind us of our own mortality, limitations and failings. We, and Yossarian, are horrified by the sight of Snowden's drizzling entrails not because they look bad, but because we realize in that moment that we have that inside us, and that there's very little holding it in. We are weak, and we will die, no matter what we tell ourselves. 
5. It's better to die running toward what you love, than live a lie. It's the key message to the book's final pages. Yossarian has the option to return to the States, a rich, honored man, but he must tell everyone how heroic his experience of war was. To be free, Cathcart and Korn force him to maintain a horrible illusion. It's really an illusion we still maintain to this day, through war films and video games. We glorify battle and the destruction of enemies that are inherently "evil." Toughness and manliness have violence as a necessary quality. But, Yossarian chooses to avoid that lie. He chooses to run away, fighting a harder battle than the one he would fight by staying in the war, but one that is moral and guided by self-preservation and basic humanity. Given the options, he makes the infinitely more difficult choice. There's a chance that he could have returned to the States and never spoken to anyone about the war ever again, but simply by being there, recognized as a hero, he would be validating all of the corruption he fights throughout the text. The message is clear, go for what you love, and don't settle for the deal that keeps you comfortable, especially when your eternal soul is the bargaining chip.

What's perhaps most sad is that the lessons we should have learned from this text and from World War II continue to go unheeded. And more so, the satire that Heller proposes throughout the text is more and more realistic every day.

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