Song of the Week: "Seems Like Home To Me"

Download: Two Gallants - Seems Like Home To Me

The music of Two Gallants is purposely anachronistic, something they perpetuate with their ceaseless touring and haven't-slept-a-wink-in-days stage presence. You almost get the sense that Two Gallants--Adam Stephens and Tyson Vogel--long for a rootless existence that is just about dismissed in these times. The songs--Guthrie-like in nature--sound as if they come from grizzled and bruised veterans of the hard-luck life, not from two twentysomethings from San Francisco.

"Seems Like Home To Me," a song from an EP released earlier this year called The Scenery of Farewell, captures the essence of Two Gallants. A lot of the Gallants' songs speak of restlessness and unceasing movement, and in "Seems Like Home To Me" this thirst for freedom lays waste to the possibility of love and stability. It's all a vicious cycle as what makes the road so appealing is the promise of the destination and the sweet melancholy of leaving behind something good:

Baby, let your light shine on me
When I'm lost on the road
You know you could set me free
You could ease my load
There's something that I lack, it just won't let me be
I've been gone so long, it seems like home to me

As evocative as their songs are on record, they sound even more fiery live as the duo's ragged, messy playing provides them with a worn glory. Two Gallants first came to my attention a couple of years ago when they performed a cover for The Believer magazine's music issue, but it wasn't until I saw them open for Cold War Kids earlier this year that they pricked up my ears. A new self-titled LP is due from Two Gallants later this month.

Song of the Week: "Ice Cream"

Download: Muscles - "Ice Cream"

Muscles' "Ice Cream" was a song I enjoyed when I first heard it a few months ago but soon after neglected. Now with summer on full blast, it's the perfect song for the season with the right message: ice cream, indeed, is going to save the day--it will save ANY day.

It's a dance anthem in the LCD Soundsystem vein but perhaps a little more simplistic. The pleasures of the song is in its inane simplicity, from its "WOOH AHH..." opening to its Casio beats. Like its namesake, it uses the simplest of ingredients to make you happy. The song is about good, clean highs ("I just want to dance with my shirt off") when mean, ugly people keep intruding ("He could have a knife/Stabe me in the gut!"). Muscles perseveres, though, and delivers one of the most brainlessly appealing songs of the year. I'm sure some folks will detest the song as somewhat moronic, but ice cream isn't for thinking. It's for licking.

Song of the Week: Golden Inhibition Destroyer

Download: Warm in the Wake - "Golden Inhibition Destroyer"

Warm in the Wake's Gold Dust Trail EP has been a wonderful surprise this year. With their southern rock-inspired sound, the band offers a set of solid, pleasing songs. Some might accuse them of being My Morning Jacket ripoffs, but they're far from that. The songs swirl and toss you in unexpectedly blissful directions.

"Golden Inhibition Destroyer" is the highlight of the EP. The lyrics obtusely speak of pessimism (And there's carbon and there's love/Which one will burn up/Oh, guess which one), but the sweet concoction of guitars, chimes, and piano speak of sweet tea and playful days out in the sun. When the piano and drums crash and careen in the end, just watch out!

Warm in the Wake's LP, American Prehistoric, comes out August 28.

Song of the Week: "Lay Your Head Down"

Download: Keren Ann - "Lay Your Head Down"

We're back! After a brief hiatus due to moving and simply being busy, we have a brand new song of the week.

Keren Ann's beguiling "Lay Your Head Down" charms the listener right from the start with its guitar/handclap intro, and only becomes more seductive when her vocals come on inviting you to lay your head down in her arms. It's a gorgeous song for a breezy summer day spent on the grass with someone you love.

Song of the Week: "Bad Reputation"

Download: Freedy Johnston – “Bad Reputation”

Freedy Johnston’s “Bad Reputation” is on the short list of my favorite songs of the 1990s. I would describe it as the gateway song of my development as a music fan. Prior to this I wasn’t listening to much indie rock but exposure to short-lived radio stations like KSCA and the still-thriving “Morning Becomes Eclectic” slowly exposed me to music beyond Hootie and the Blowfish.

“Bad Reputation” registered with me while driving back to school after a weekend at home. The song came on the car radio and there was something oddly familiar about it. Where had I heard it before? The chorus felt right and I hoped that the DJ will tell me who it was and perhaps answer where I had heard the song before. Freedy Johnston, said the DJ. I had never heard of him but vowed to look into him.

My research eventually reminded me where I heard the song before. I had just been to a screening of Noah Baumbach’s seminal post-grad life film, Kicking and Screaming, and “Bad Reputation” was the song that played in the end when the screen goes black. The song also appeared on Johnston’s terrific album, This Perfect World, which I purchased immediately.

The most remarkable thing about “Bad Reputation” is the level of poignancy it achieves, which results from Johnston’s ability to create a complete and empathetic character within the first verse:

I know I got a bad reputation
and it isn't just talk, talk, talk
If I could only give you everything
You know I haven't got
I couldn't have one conversation
If it wasn't for the lies, lies, lies
And still I want to tell you everything
'till I close my eyes

We see here the push and pull of love as the speaker confesses his flaws and imperfections to the one he loves and thinks does not deserve. The second verse is even more devastating as he meekly pushes her away (“Don’t try to be an inspiration”) but underlining each verse is the realization that he doesn’t want to let her go.

“Bad Reputation” isn’t a song about love conquering all or how the love of a woman can transform a man. That’s the territory of lesser songs and songwriters who simplify what it is to be human. Rather it’s an unresolved song about the difficulty of changing even for the one you love. It’s about stubbornness that gets in the way of happiness. Yet it’s also about patience and understanding and the ability of love to make us want to be better people.

Adding to the poignancy is Johnston’s plain, unremarkable voice. It grounds the song in the realm of the ordinary man (physically speaking, Johnston too is ordinary, balding and weak-chinned). He’s no great lover; he’s just a man struck by love and unsure of how to deal. When Johnston gets to the wonderful chorus, it’s quite a revelation. “Suddenly I’m on the street/ Seven years disappear below my feet,” he sings, summing up the transformative power of love. But sure enough he catches himself and asks the question, “Do you want me now?” That question, sung in Johnston’s unadorned voice, sounds like a plea as well as a dare. He wishes she does but challenges her that it won’t be easy.

So does she still want him? We don’t know. Johnston certainly expresses himself so deeply and so powerfully that I can’t help but be moved. Perhaps the more pressing question is whether it will all work out even if she does. Will it be worth it? That’s another song altogether.

Song of the Week: "Small Planet"

Download: Ferraby Lionheart - "Small Planet"

Even at my advanced age I still harbor a faint dream of becoming a musician. First, though, I'll have to learn an instrument, and with that in mind, I asked my sister to buy me a ukulele while she was in Hawaii last week for our cousin's wedding. Still, I'm not deluded enough to think that it will come true, but there's nothing wrong with fantasizing.

Had I enough talent to become a musician I would like to think that the songs I write will sound just like Ferraby Lionheart's (that name!). Warm, witty, dreamy and heartfelt, Lionheart's EP was the soundtrack to the last holiday season, and it is with great eagerness that I anticipate his first full length, Catch the Brass Ring, which will be released on September 4.

This week's song--"Small Planet"--comes from that upcoming LP. It may not be the best song of Mr. Lionheart's ouvre but it is representative of his bemused viewpoint on love and heartbreak. In it he tries to persuade his One and Only to be his one and only. It's not an original theme but Lionheart handles it with an arresting sincerity that sidesteps being cloying and provides some originality in expressing the sentiment. "This planet's small enough for two" is the freshest variation I've heard of saying that there's someone out there for you.

If there's any sense in the music world, Ferraby Lionheart would be the It troubadour of 2007. It won't be long!

Song of the Week: "Cha Cha Cha"

Download: The Little Ones - "Cha Cha Cha"

It seems as if I've been choosing too many downer songs. One after another the Songs of the Week have been about unrequited love, death, addiction, with only a couple of chipper songs tossed in for variety. This week my mission was to find an upbeat, happy song from my collection. I didn't think it would be a tough thing to do, but I couldn't settle on one for a few days. The Cold War Kids/Little Ones show on Tuesday changed all that.

Listening to the Little Ones perform their magic, I just about slapped myself on the forehead and said, "Duh." It was obvious. In their brief life, the Little Ones have become leading purveyors of shiny, happy music, songs that make you shake your booty. As with most of their songs, the biggest of many selling points is Greg Meyer's enthusiastic drumming. It's even more impressive in a live context as you see him clobber the drum set, but even in their sole recording thus far, Sing Song EP, the vibrant intensity of Meyer's drumming carries the songs--including "Cha Cha Cha"--along.

Which is not to say that the rest of the band are just in it for the ride. The drumming is one thing, but without the Reyes--Ed and Brian--brothers' infectious vocals and rapport, Ian Moreno's excellent guitar work and multi-instrumental support, and Lee LaDouceur's youthful exuberance, the Little Ones' magic would be incomplete. As stated in their website, the band follows what they call Uncle Lee's Rule of Feet, which "stated that a song was deemed appropriate if, and only if; each of the Little Ones’ feet could shuffle. Once they adopted this new rule they began to realize what they had right in front of them." They've succeeded well under this rule thus far, but I wonder how long they can stand by it and how far they can stretch it?

As for "Cha Cha Cha," I have no idea what the song is about. I imagine it's about a bright, shiny day, with its bouncy calypso feel and delirious "la la la's". The song also demonstrates the Little Ones' unique ability to write a pop song that lasts well over four minutes without it ever wearing out its welcome. The songs are sophisticated in the sense that they don't rely on one hook of a melody. The songs turn and evolve so that they are never predictable; the beginning is never like the end. With a song like "Cha Cha Cha," for example, most bands would have coasted on the feel-good vibes of the beginning and taken it all the way to the end. The Little Ones, though, ride it for a bit but then sends the song soaring near the end with the aforementioned "la la la's" and turns into an anthem for the "waking people."

Wow, I really thought this would be a brief post. It turned out to be the longest one I've written yet for a Song of the Week, and I still dont' think I've done the song justice.

Just listen to it.

Song of the Week: "While You Were Sleeping"

[Photo by Sam Erickson]

Download: Elvis Perkins - "While You Were Sleeping"

This week's Song of the Week is tardy because I was in San Diego running a marathon. Better late than never, I say.

FJ recently nominated Bright Eyes' "If the Brakeman Turns My Way" as a future Song of the Week, and while I love the song and may consider it for a future installment, I am instead going to choose a different artist and song FJ brought to my attention: Elvis Perkins's "While You Were Sleeping."

Practically every piece of media on Perkins mentions his Hollywood heritage--the son of Psycho star Anthony Perkins and photographer Berry Berenson--and the fact that both of his parents endured notable deaths, his father from AIDS-related causes and his mother as a passenger on American Airlines flight 11, which crashed into the World Trade Center on 9/11. The fascination with his backstory would be mere media nosiness if it wasn't for the fact that Perkins, himself, seems to reference his parents' deaths in his songs. "While You Were Sleeping," in particular, seems to address 9/11:

While you were sleeping
You tossed, you turned
You rolled your eyes as the world burned
The heavens fell, the earth quaked
I thought you must be, but you weren't awake

It's not simply about 9/11, but as the opener to his debut, Ash Wednesday, the song establishes the album's predominant theme of the soul's resilience in the face of unquantifiable grief. "While You Were Sleeping" and the album's other songs are indelibly melancholy but it is a testament to Perkins's songwriting and singing that they never verge on depressing. Perkins's voice has a lazy, wearied quality that sounds resigned to the trials and tribulations of life, and the songs, rather than surrender to the hardship of life, affirm the virtue of living even in the presence of heartwrenching loss.

"While You Were Sleeping" is my favorite song from the album. For a while I thought it was the title track, but "While You Were Sleeping" is a hypnotic, haunting lullaby that I can't get out of my head. It starts quietly and gradually builds, instrument by instrument, but never rises above a well-paced amble to become a comforting, suprisingly inspirational song. It comes to life near the end when horns carry Perkins's words towards a flowing stream of imagery, the song rushing forward as Perkins sings, "Thank God you're up now/Let's stay this way/Else there'll be no more mornings/And no more days." And when the song drifts off it does so with a sweetly pained series of "oh's".

The song, from what I gather, is about all the things--the very imminent to the distant--that loom over us in our daily lives. It's also about what is missed in life ("While you were sleeping/ Your babies grew") and how the most significant events in life transpire while we have our eyes closed. Perkins's impressionistic lyrics don't offer direct explanations, but they do offer suggestive images of life that is unpredictable yet fair. Ultimately the song is a carpe diem song minus the overzealous optimism. Life can be harsh, Perkins argues, but the best way to cope is to simply live on.

[Note: It seems fitting that I fell asleep while trying to post this late Monday night.]

Song of the Week: "Wrecking Force"

[Photo by Chris Rose]

Download: Voxtrot - "Wrecking Force"

Voxtrot's first full length LP came out this week, and while generally good, the album doesn't build upon the promise and strengths of the EP's that preceded it. The band has nailed its sound and the album is a solid collection of catchy, danceable songs but one is left wishing that they would push a little more. Still there are a few highlights, such as "Kid Gloves" and "Blood Red Blood," and if there were no EP's to herald the band's promise, the self-titled album would be a much buzzed-about debut.

Instead of picking a choice cut from Voxtrot's LP, I instead chose "Wrecking Force," which I believe is the apotheosis of the band's sound, one that combines chugging, dance-ready rhythms with vague lyrics that belie the sunny blissful vibe the music evokes. The song was recommended to me by a friend who noted that he has had it on an endless loop. A check of his Last.fm page confirmed that he had, indeed, played the track at last four dozen times. It's easy to hear why one would want to listen to the song over and over again. In preparing this post, I have already listened to "Wrecking Force" repeatedly--and I can listen to it indefinitely. From the song's opening "shhh" to the song's late-round salvo of guitars, "Wrecking Force" sounds like an indie rock classic. It reminds me a little of New Order's "Age of Consent," which isn't a stretch since one of Voxtrot's apparent inflluences is the New Wave sound of the 1980s. The guitars swirl around the song's sturdy backbeat with its generous inclusion of hi-hat tapping, building up a wall of sound that drives and chugs the song forward until it reaches the zenith and it tumbles forward to a sweeping rush of tinny guitars.

The lyrics seem to speak of some all-consuming passion. Some comments at SongMeanings suggest the song may be about drugs, which I think does work, but it could also simply be about the enveloping power of music:

Look over, look fast, again look past
The motley kids and ugly cast
That smother you, all radiant with joy

Or it can be about the seductiveness of overwhelming emotion and simply getting lost in it. It can make you feel alive but it can also wreck you. The lyrics are deliberately vague--I can barely make out the last verse--but it adds a dimension of catharsis to the song's irresistible melody. It seems to argue that there is a time and a place when you just have to let go and tumble headlong without thinking (you can be your own god if you want to), so it's useless to ponder the meaning of this song. Just surrender and let it wreck you for a moment.

Song of the Week: "Kathleen"

Download: Josh Ritter - "Kathleen"

When it comes to music, I'm not that adventurous. The allure of Bjork still evades me and I'm not fond of the sonic explorations that bands like Wilco and Radiohead have pursued. I do, however, know a pretty song when I hear one and Josh Ritter's "Kathleen" is as pretty as they come.

"Kathleen" was the song that introduced me to Ritter four years ago when I heard him perform it on KCRW's "Morning Becomes Eclectic" while driving away from Ontario Mills Mall. Yup, it made such an impact that I remember where I was when I first heard it. It's a song that makes me wish I was straight so I can find a girl named Kathleen and sing this to her. Whenever I've met a Kathleen, in fact, I've played this song just to let her know how lucky she is to have such a gorgeous song as her namesake. Still, I would much prefer to present this song to the love of my life. Maybe I can meet someone named Franklin and just change the lyric.

In the weeks I've been doing these Songs of the Week I think what I have proven is how much of a lovelorn romantic I am. I don't like the typical "I love you" songs since those seem so unrealistic to me. Instead I prefer sweet painful songs like "Kathleen" that talk about how good it hurts to be so badly in love. Here's a song about driving a girl home from a party; a girl who might not love the guy--yet--but the guy is so heartbreakingly grateful for just the briefest of encounters. Unrequited love is the best! And it's not all mushy, gushy stuff, too. Lyrics such as the following are far too knowing and sensible to be so.

I know you are waiting and I know that it is not for me,
But I'm here and I'm ready and I saved you the passenger seat.
I won't be your last dance, just your last good night.
Every heart is a package tangled up in knots someone else tied.

And just dig Ritter's sly wit when the organ kicks in when he sings the line "a virgin Wurlitzer heart never once had a song."

How about this for a pick-up line: "All the other girls here are stars-you are the Northern Lights." You had me at "all," Josh. You had me at "all."

[Photo from Josh Ritter's MySpace page]

Song of the Week: "Legend of a Cowgirl"

Download: Imani Coppola - "Legend of a Cowgirl"

I've been a slacker of a blogger this weekend. The 20-miler wore me out yesterday and today was just a lazy day, so I apologize if anyone was at all eagerly awaiting this week's Song of the Week and have been disappointed all weekend.

I doubt it.

This week's song takes us back ten years. Imani Coppola's "Legend of a Cowgirl" was one of the freshest songs of the late 1990's. I can remember the first time I heard it: at night driving home from school at the intersection of 3rd Street and La Cienega in front of the Beverly Center.

Ten years later the song is still fresh. It hasn't aged one bit. It was a minor hit back in 1997, but it deserved so much more. For all its hooks the song was probably a little too smart to be a huge hit. Its theme of female empowerment isn't anything new, but its wit and effortless charm is rare in such songs. Not even Beyonce's recent hit, "Irreplaceable," matches Coppola's irresistible take on feminism. From the song's sampling of Donovan's "Sunshine Superman" to tongue-in-cheek lyrics like "I'd give my sight to see her," "Legend of a Cowgirl" proves to be a relentless delight.

Coppola qualifies as a one-hit wonder, and apart from this song I haven't heard anything else from her. According to Wikipedia she continues to record and perform, and she seems to have made a career out of music. She was most recently involved with Mike Patton's Peeping Tom project. Based on this one song, she seems to be profoundly talented. I really ought to check out the rest of the Chupacabra album.

Song of the Week: "Ringing in My Ear"

Download: Adem - "Ringing in My Ear"

I love a perfect song. Adem's "Ringing in My Ear," from Homesongs, is a perfect song, one of those songs where everything just seems right and everything is in the correct place--the shuffling percussions, the wondrous glockenspiel, the harmonizing guitars, and Adem's lazy, exasperated vocals.

What I like most about the song is how immediately it hits me. I love break-up songs, and the best ones are visceral in making you feel the hurt. "Ringing in My Ear" is a bitter, pungent, and devastating break up song that isn't angry but moreso disappointed at how things turned out. The guitars, to me, convey a sense of contemplation, and the monotonous rhythm combines with Adem's vocals suggest weariness. As Adem sings the lyrics, we hear a story of recriminations and petty vengefulness. The narrator sings of feeling guilty for the things he has done since the separation but still feels no compulsion to apologize for it because "it was your decision." Throughout the phrase "ringing in my ear" takes on various undertones. At first it's an easy to disregard noise, then it's a harsh, unpleasant sound that can't be ignored, but for the most part it's an irksome, distracting presence the narrator wishes would go away. In the end, though, one gets the sense that the narrator doesn't wish the ringing to go away; the ringing in his ear has become synonymous with missing her presence:

It's a sunny September
The colours are bright here
And the birds sing of beautiful places
While you are just ringing in my ear

The placement of the word "just" is curious. "Still" might have fit the tone better, but the use of "just" is a nice touch as it implies a struggle within the narrator to admit the fact that he misses her. Yes, she's an annoying ringing in his ear, but he might prefer hearing it that not.

Adem followed up Homesongs with the underrated Love and Other Planets. That album didn't have a song that matched the clarity and perfection of "Ringing in My Ear" but it's an even more assured and richly textured album than Homesongs.

Song of the Week: "You Broke My Heart"

Download: Lavender Diamond - "You Broke My Heart"

Lavender Diamond's Becky Stark has a quivery, dramatic voice that is a little Bjork-like but more inviting, and in "You Broke My Heart" she puts it through a grand workout. The song starts softly as Stark repeats the line "you broke my heart" eight times, varying it as she goes. At first it's a baleful statement then she sings it like a hurt animal. As any great singer she makes the words signify more than what they mean, and it is what makes the song so transcendent.

Like last week's song of the week, LCD Soundsystem's "All My Friends," "You Broke My Heart" is a song that shows that repetition can be an effective technique if done so smartly and with skill. "You Broke My Heart" has a 1960s Wall of Sound vibe that builds and builds to an operatic crescendo. Stark begins in a low register and climaxes to a stirring conclusion. When she gets to the line "I hear the cavalry of light" I just about want to get on my feet and start clapping. I have yet to see Lavender Diamond live but if Stark can sing this song with as much passion as it already has in the recorded version, I can only imagine the chills it would send down my spine.

I'm not sure that the song is directly about heartbreak and love as the title would suggest. The rest of the lyrics seem to reside on a vast, elevated plain that is removed from personal experience. As the structure of the song itself suggests, the lyrics seek a glorious epiphany that is almost within its grasp. The song, I think, is willfully broad and ambiguous to better achieve universal resonance. It's certainly a song meant to be felt rather than analyzed.

Lavender Diamond's debut album, Imagine Our Love, comes out May 8 on Matador Records. The band may be accused of being too kitschy, and the album should reveal if they are more than just a band with a gimmicky sound. The Cavalry of Light EP suggests that they are, indeed, the real thing. Even if they are a gimmick, though, they will at least have given the world "You Broke My Heart."

Song of the Week: "All My Friends"

Download: LCD Soundsystem - "All My Friends"

LCD Soundsystem's new album, Sound of Silver, is excellent, and just about everyone agrees. The only problem I have with it is that one song in particular is so damn great that I have a hard time getting past it to listen to the other songs. "All My Friends" is a candidate for Song of 2007 for me, and it shows no sign of flagging. It's on repeat in my car, and I inevitably click to it on iTunes while on the computer.

What's so good about it?

Well, the random-sounding piano that repeats throughout would annoy most but it shows off James Murphy's brilliance by building on it, drums kick in, the bass and guitars come in a little later, and then the vocals emerge a minute and a half into the song, so that the song never sounds boring. Even at seven and a half minutes it never wears out its welcome. It can go on for fourteen minutes and I'd be happy.

That alone wouldn't make it a contender for song of the year, but once you throw in the song's theme, which resonates deeply with many an aging hipster and "All My Friends" quickly becomes a classic anthem. Essentially it's a sequel of sorts to "Losing My Edge," but the wry sarcasm of that song gives way to reflection of the good rough times of days gone by. The song is not of regret. While the narrator certainly misses his frenzied days of youth and "wouldn't trade one stupid decision for another five years of life," he's also acknowledging the future. The good times can't endure.

I used to think the song was about enduring friendship, but now I'm not so sure. Ultimately it's about change, sometimes rough, often unwelcome, rarely for the better, but there it is anyway.

Song of the Week: "What Led Me To This Town"

Download: The Jayhawks - "What Led Me To This Town"

This week's song takes me back seven years, fresh from college and in the midst of my infatuation with alt-country. Ryan Adams's Heartbreaker was breaking my heart then, and this song--"What Led Me To This Town"--by the Jayhawks counted as one of the first songs I ever downloaded.

The song transports me immediately, right from those first strums of the guitar, and the rest of the song is wonderful, blissful, dreamy pop. It only errs in that it has to end.

In terms of explication, the title works as a question and an explanation. The town in question is a place called Love. And while the question of "what led me to this town" at first sounds like a lament, a sigh of regret, it ultimately becomes a sigh of disbelief--disbelief in the fortunate position he finds himself in. While there is fear and trepidation, these soon reveal a sense of relief, so that when the narrator asks, "What happened to this boy?" it is with the happy realization of how far he had gotten and how lucky he is.

If "What Led Me To This Town" was simply a cheery song about finding love, I probably wouldn't pay it much attention. Gary Louris and the rest of the Jayhawks, though, were a far too crafty bunch of songwriters to resort to such treacle. The song works because it possesses a wry sensibility. The narrator tries to hide how he feels, complaining of how restrictive a life he now lives, but he just can't contain himself. He gives himself away with the exuberant chorus stating, "Blue lights are shining over my life."

Song of the Week: "Middle Distance Runner"

Download: Sea Wolf - "Middle Distance Runner"

Since I've started running, songs with running motifs have appealed to me, so it's no surprise that Sea Wolf's "Middle Distance Runner" finds itself on my playlist often. But to say that I like it simply because it refers to running would minimize how effective and affecting it is as a lament.

What I admire most about the song is how it uses the metaphor of the middle distance runner. When the narrator confesses, "I will only ever be a middle distance runner," he is admitting an inability to commit, to be in it for the long run. While he's not a sprinter who is merely good for a short burst--a fling, he is also not a long distance runner that can slog through it all.

With the song's steady, unceasing beat driving things, the song becomes a lament for love/relationships that ultimately go nowhere. The beat, constant and unchanging, suggests firmness but it also hints at inflexibility, the willingness to adapt to situations and circumstances. The song works as a character study of a particular kind of individual who perpetually finds himself unable to make things last. "It's stamina that I lack," he says, but it may also have something to do with never taking an extra step and making things work. Rather than meet his lover halfway, he tells her, "You'll have to run to me tonight." He's also the kind of person who, rather than confront, succumbs to a situation. He refuses to talk about the future and avoids arguments, using the excuse of being too tired to fight. By simply admitting that he will only ever be a middle distance runner, he is turning it into a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's not so much that he is a middle distance runner, it is that he only wants to be a middle distance runner.

Such is the loneliness of the middle distance runner.

Song of the Week: "Girls"

Eleni Mandell - "Girls"



No, not the Beastie Boys song but rather the seemingly winsome track from Eleni Mandell's wonderful new album, Miracle of Five. I say seemingly because the song's waltzy melody belies the creepiness of the lyrics. Over and over Mandell wonders about her would-be lover, running questions through her head:

I wonder how you look when you sleep
Do you still dream about girls from your street?
Do you still dream about girls from high school?
Do you still dream about girls, girls, girls?

Even if he were to fall in love with her it would surely not work with her hang-ups about the girls he has banged. She promises that she will be "the dice you roll down the alley" and "the pennies that come in handy," arguing that she will somehow be different from all the girls he has been with, but we all know, that most likely, she will simply be one line out of 88 he will write about his 44 women. And I fear how her brittle little heart will handle the heartbreak.

The thin line between romantic yearning and scary obsession has been covered before in song, most notably with the Police's "Every Breath You Take." Mandell's "Girls" is a welcome addition with its beguiling feminine perspective. Mandell's songs have a sweet yet tough quality to them, and "Girls" is a wonderful example of how her songs are punched up with keen wit, making for a pleasant immediate experience that lingers longer than one would expect for such lilting melodies.

The video above features Eleni Mandell's boyfriend, the musician Charlie Wadhams. He's also in the video for "Makeout King."

Song of the Week: "Read My Mind"

Another new feature starting this week. Each Saturday (or so) I'll be picking a song that I'm fascinated with or simply listening to a lot and try to get to the heart of why I like it. The songs will likely be new ones but don't be surprised if an older song pops up. This week it's the Killers' "Read My Mind".

I've resisted listening to the Killers' most recent album, Sam's Town, regardless of the fact that I enjoyed their debut, Hot Fuss, and found myself singing along whenever "When You Were Young" came on the radio. I also liked "Bones" but it wasn't until "Read My Mind" that I just broke down and listened to the whole album. It's not a great album but it has its virtues.

The lyrics to the song are a bit on the vague side but the song exemplifies the chief skills of the Killers. Brandon Flowers and his crew have a way with a hook and "Read My Mind's" strongest hook is the keyboard part pops up throughout the song. It's a simple conceit but it adds dimension to the song, just as the mandolin did for R.E.M.'s "Losing My Religion." To me it sounds like a mind thinking or remembering.

However, there's also something effective and powerful with the song's central question: "can you read my mind?" Flowers sings the line in varying ways. At one point it sounds wistful, as if wishing that his lover could read his mind, then it shifts to defiance and anger, but then he relents and it almost sounds like he's pleading for it to be so.

Then there's also the charming video set in Tokyo where Flowers actually drops the attitude for a bit and lets slip a smile.