Monthly Archives: March 2012

I have my dad’s overwhelmingly nice headphones on right now, so a post

First of all, these things are way too nice. Music is overwhelming when listened to through them. The clarity is ridiculous. Every sound is distinct and so rich…it’s honestly a tremendous challenge to focus on anything else with these things on. I could not handle owning these things. Listening to music I like on them, for me, is like getting knocked off my feet by a wave. Excuse my writing. It’s seriously hard to be coherent with these headphones on.

However, this blog does not exist to talk about headphones–it’s for songs. If what I want in life is to listen to music with good headphones and die all over the place, my go-to has always been “anything from the Elephant Six Collective.” Since for some reason, I’m super conscious of blogging about anything too obvious today, I won’t go with any of the three Elephant Six basics for this post–which means no Neutral Milk Hotel (it’s a crime to recommend any one song off In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, anyways. That album is best as a whole.), no Olivia Tremor Control, and no Apples In Stereo.

Instead, I’m going to gush about a song by the somewhat-less-often-rhapsodied-about Beulah. Beulah has ridiculously awesome arrangements and rich instrumentals which are best-served by quality headphones or speakers. Their music is, bluntly put, summery as fuck–which is also nice on a gloomy day. I’m gonna go for a song off their 1999 album When Your Heartstrings Break,  mostly because my favorite of their songs is on that one, but slightly because I think Pitchfork sends angry mobs after anyone who says anything good about The Coast Is Never Clear. This post is way too indie-kid. I guess that’s what happens to me when you scramble my brain with ridiculous headphones.

“Silverado Days” does not sound like a song. It sound like stretching out on a blanket in the sun, just close enough to a tree that there’s no glare in your eyes, on the grass in some park you remember having picnics with your family in as a kid. Probably someone nice is with you. “Silverado Days” is floaty and idyllic, with gorgeous, image-tinged lyrics. I love this song a stupid amount.

Beulah – “Silverado Days” 

Even though we don’t mean what we say
We throw our words
Like bombs and hand grenades


				

The perils of new releases

When an album you’ve been waiting for a long time finally comes out, it’s scary. I’ve got quite a few years of music consumption neatly organized on the giant shelf in my room at my parents’ house now, so I’ve known the feeling of putting on the new album of a band you adore and coming to the horrifying conclusion that it sucks. It hasn’t happened too many times, but that kind of disappointment is a pretty vivid memory. It puts a note of stress in the excitement of a new release.

I picked up Port of Morrow by The Shins on Tuesday night (Yes, I bought it the day it was released. They took five years to put the thing out–I wasn’t waiting another day.), and as I lay curled up in bed, listening to it for what is perhaps the fourth or fifth time, I am pleased to report that for me, at least, it’s not a disappointment.

On Port of Morrow, elements of each of The Shins’ previous albums blend with a new kind of maturity. James Mercer’s voice is beautiful and clear as ever; his lyrics are still these lovely, unique strings of words. The production is rich and warm. I’m going to stop now before this starts sounding more like a review than the ramblings of an excited fan who is eager to spread her budding affection for this album.

One of my favorites so far is the album’s opener, “The Rifle’s Spiral”. It’s a gorgeous, catchy track with a bit of darkness mingled with The Shins’ characteristic warmth. The lyrics are fantastic; James Mercer’s voice makes me so happy…so does the instrumentation (there’s a bit of a bass solo!). A fantastic album opener–settled my nerves and made me comfortable in the knowledge that The Shins were still awesome after five years gone. Listen!

Primitive mural on the wall,
to fortify your grim resolve.
And made the glitz of a shopping mall
another grain of indigent salt to the sea.


A quick post because I miss rambling about music.

Oh hey, I have a music blog. Kinda forgot about that a little. However, since I am currently studying for my psych final, and thus perfecting the art of productive procrastination–you should see my room right now, it is so clean–now is the ideal time to bring the blog back to life. It’ll just be a quick post–I do actually want finish preparing for this exam and whatnot–but a post!

The song of the day today is a song that brought me back from the bring of burning out on editing several times this past weekend, like half of which was spent in the Communications lab. It was chosen for my rallying cry because, quite simply, it makes me want to fuck shit up. When I am walking down the street in my Doc Martens, listening to the album this song comes from, I imagine how lovely it would be if the whole world was a mosh pit. I imagine what would happen if, right at that moment, I was attacked. (Spoilers alert: that fantasy involves me kicking the motherfucker in the face with my steel-toed boots). More succinctly put, The Blood Brothers are a strange sort of high for me.

Man, I wish I’d seen that band live before they did the whole “indefinite hiatus” thing. At any rate, the album in question is Crimes by The Blood Brothers, and it is awesome. Really otherworldly screaming combined with awesome energy and a high degree of catchiness. The song that I most often hit repeat on is “Trash Flavored Trash,” and you should listen to it right now.

The Blood Brothers – “Trash Flavored Trash”