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Day 7 - A Song That Reminds You of a Certain Event

Part of last year's Labor Day Weekend was spent at the first annual FYF Fest. It was a beautiful and sunny afternoon in Downtown LA filled with great music and some amazing food truck fare. I ended my night at FYF kicking up dust clouds at a pretty stellar dance party for Delorean's set, but will never forget how I started my day -- with Local Natives.

To say that Local Natives deliver live, would be a serious understatement. The guys just have so much live chemistry that something completely magical and powerful happens when they're on stage together, and it's impossible not to be moved -- perhaps it's being moved to tears for some, but for many, I know it's being moved to sing, and to sing with all of your heart. There's a line from a Copeland song that comes to mind when I think of the effect Local Natives have over their fans -- and that's to "sing with your head up, with your eyes closed, not because you love the song, because you love to sing."

Local Natives had the audience fully engaged throughout their entire set, but it was during Who Knows Who Cares, that they inspired quite the incredible sing-a-long. It was one that started off slow with fans scattered throughout the crowd singing quietly to themselves, but one that ended up loud and enthusiastic as people started to feed off of the energy of the band, and of each other. I can still feel the chills that ran down my spine as everyone joined in for the song's last "Oh-ooooh"s, singing appropriately without care and without any inhibitions. When the song ended, I could've sworn there was a split second of silence where everyone took a moment to let the beauty of what just happened sink in, before there was an eruption of cheering and applause. And now, when I listen to Who Knows Who Cares, I don't just hear the band in my headphones; I hear the entire audience at FYF on that Saturday of Labor Day Weekend 2010.

Who Knows Who Cares

Summer Listening: Little Dragon - Ritual Union

Today, Little Dragon's third album, Ritual Union, drops via Peacefrog Records. I've been hooked on this album for the last week or so, because it's one of the only electronic/synthpop albums this season that has truly impressed me. And by impressed, I mean -- made me want to dance like it's nobody's business. (The only other album that's caught my attention in a similar way this summer is Holy Ghost!'s debut release.) Each year, a few albums make it onto the soundtrack of my summer -- albums that I listen to religiously during the summer months, revisit when summer's long gone, and am reminded of that feeling of the hot afternoon sun on my skin, or the smell of warm summer nights (yes, there is a smell), and just a general sense of reckless abandon. For the last few summers, albums from Passion Pit, Friendly Fires, Phoenix, Cut Copy, Caribou, Delorean, and a mixtape from Killed by Synth, all come to mind. This summer, Little Dragon's Ritual Union joins the list.

I'll be honest, though -- this album isn't for everyone. It's not something that can be easily played straight from start to finish, because it speeds up and slows down in intermittent bursts. There are some tracks that are probably better suited to be listened to while laying down and staring at the ceiling (or the stars) -- tracks that are reminiscent of music from The xx. But then there are a few tracks where the bass lines, drum machine patterns, synth use, and Yukimi Nagano's vocals are so perfectly and infectiously paired, that you just might find yourself dancing like Molly Ringwald in the Breakfast Club (or, for the fellas -- Anthony Michael Hall). It's an album that I foresee people pulling songs from to make awesome mixtapes, or even better, remixes. Seriously, I can't wait until this album starts getting the remix treatment, which I'm positive will be soon. There's nothing better than when your favorite band or DJ makes a danceable track, even more danceable.

Check out the title track below, stream the album via NPR, or go pick up a copy of the album for yourself.

Ritual Union

Day 6 - A Song That Reminds You of Somewhere

In the fall of 2008, I was fortunate enough to spend a semester of study abroad in London. It was easily one of the most memorable semesters of my college career, and some of the most memorable few months of my life. I got to spend time in one of the most amazing cities in the world, meet new people, travel to new places, and make some incredible memories. On more than a couple of Wednesdsay nights, we would go to an event called Cheapskates at a bar in Soho where cover was 3 pounds (?) and drinks were 70 pence. To a student from the US, where conversations about the exchange rate took place daily, and a 5 pound footlong from Subway sounded like a steal, Cheapskates was a dream. Sure, the place was underground, small, dirty, sticky, and to be quite honest, a little sketchy; but the company was always good, and so was the music.

The DJ could go from playing Cut Copy's Lights and Music to dropping Jay-Z's 99 Problems. In fact, I don't think there was a night where he didn't drop 99 problems. There also wasn't a night where he didn't put on some MGMT. When I left for study abroad, MGMT were still flying pretty low on the music radar in the US; but in London, they seemed to be everywhere. Kids was one of those songs that people would be willing to forfeit their spot in line at the bar or restroom for, so they could run to the dance floor. When I hear the song now, it's impossible for me not to think about London. Particularly, those nights out when the first few bars of Kids would come over the speakers, and the dance floor would instantly explode into a mass of hands in the air, gliding feet, jumping, and smiling. Lots of smiling.

Kids 

We Are Your Kids (Tevar Mashup)

Day 5 - A Song That Reminds You of Someone

I'm the kind of person who can always find the perfect song to match any emotion that I'm feeling, but when my grandma passed away a few summers ago, I was at a complete loss for words and musical inspiration. I avoided listening to anything that I knew would worsen my mood, and it wasn't until over a year after her passing that I finally found the courage to play a song that I knew would affect me tremendously -- Yellowcard's View From Heaven.

I first heard and fell in love with this song as a sophomore in high school, but it wasn't until I was a junior in college that I really made a meaningful connection with it. This song almost perfectly captures everything I felt and still feel about my grandma, and while it still makes me choke up a little bit, it does so in a way that is more forward-looking than it is glum. I owe a lot to this song; it helped me come to better terms with my grandma's death, and marked an important time for me when I was finally able to start looking past my own grief. It's a song that makes me miss my grandma immensely, but also one that brings back picture-perfect memories of her amazing smile and laugh.

View From Heaven

Day 4 - A Song That Makes You Sad

I can't claim to the biggest Ryan Adams fan, because a lot of his music has come in and out of my life without making too large of an impact. However, there once was a time when I listened to Elizabeth, You Were Born To Play That Part from his album 29, on repeat. Lyrically, this song speaks of pain and heartbreak; but where this song really gets my chest to tighten and my throat to swell is in its physical composition -- it features some of the most beautiful piano and guitar arrangements I've ever heard. If you wanted to speak about loss without having to speak at all, you could say it through the tempo and layers of this track.

I used to listen to Elizabeth, You Were Born To Play That Part and connect with it in ways that were very personal to me; but for this post, I wanted to look into and talk about Ryan Adams's own inspiration for the song, and I stumbled across a story that is infinitely times more sad than any meaning I could possibly or have possibly attributed to this song on my own. Supposedly, Ryan wrote this song for a close friend who had lost a baby she was going to name Elizabeth, due to a miscarriage. I'm not entirely sure how accurate the story is, but after reading about it, it's all I can think about now when I listen to the song.

Elizabeth, You Were Born To Play That Part

Day 3 - A Song That Makes You Happy

The kinds of songs that make me happy are the ones that either make me want to dance or the ones that remind me of good times with good friends. The kinds of songs that make me happiest are the ones that remind of good times dancing with good friends. One example of such a song is Hellogoodbye's Call n' Return (Say That You're Into Me) -- a track off of the band's self-titled debut EP from 2004. If I had purchased a physical copy of this EP, I would've burned a hole straight through it in high school, particularly during my senior year. It was this year that I started to rekindle and ultimately form one of my most cherished friendships to this day, with a certain someone named Kathy McMillan. If there was a soundtrack to our friendship, many of the songs off of this Hellogoodbye EP (and their first full-length Zombies! Aliens! Vampires! Dinosaurs!) would be on the list -- Call n' Return just so happens to be the first one that comes to mind.

This song reminds me of days spent driving around in my car, banging the cowbell (hitting my steering wheel) and bouncing up and down like a hooligan, with Kathy in the passenger seat dancing around with equal hooligan status, and the two of us singing at the top of our lungs. It also brings back memories of several instances seeing the band live, feeling like out of the entire room or ocean of screaming kids, Kathy and I were the ones who loved and knew the song most. It was a song we used to dorkily reference during our freshman year of college, when I was in NYC and she was in Santa Barbara. The lyrics just seemed to fit so perfectly.

Miles of air and road and land
Separate me from all my plans
Were havin' havin' havin' havin' fun
But something something tells me I miss someone

If only you were here
Things would be more magical
If I was there
Right now would be more radical

All right, that's enough cheese for the day. Have a happy Thursday, everyone!

Call n' Return (Say That You're Into Me)

Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song

This one is so easy. I'm all for good mainstream pop and some well inserted auto-tune every now and then, but there is just something about the Black Eyed Peas' I Gotta Feeling that makes me feel like I'm going to self-combust. I don't listen to the radio much when I'm in my car, but anytime I do and this song comes on, it's like my finger already reaches to change the channel before my brain even begins to process that I'm listening to I Gotta Feeling. Don't get me wrong -- the Black Eyed Peas have come out with a few songs that I like, even really like. It's just this song...THIS song, in particular, that I can't stand.

In fact, it's one of the reasons I had to turn my eyes away from the TV during this year's Super Bowl Halftime show to text my sister -- "This half time show is my biggest nightmare", to which she responded,"Ha ha ha. I was hoping you'd miss it. But, if you suffered through it like I did, Usher came out towards the ends...the only redeeming thing. Plus, what is the point of the other two dudes that are not will.I.am?" (A rhetorical, but excellent question.)

It's also definitely the reason why I laughed out loud when I saw this tweet from Beach House last year:

Honestly, though -- I don't have many concrete reasons for disliking this song, besides for the fact that it's wildly repetive. When the chorus kicks in, I feel like I'm listening to a scratched CD that keeps skipping over the same few bars. I think the only time I've ever been close to listening to this song in its entirety was to watch the flash mob prank on Oprah's 24th season kickoff party. Even then, I had to fast forward through the video.

 

Let the 30 Day Song Challenge Commence

All right, guys. It's time for me to step up my blog game (again). There are so many posts I've meant to write and have literally jotted down notes and reminders for, but then end up forgetting about or inadvertently avoiding by simply posting on Twitter, instead. So, to keep myself motivated, I've decided to embark on the 30 Day Song Challenge (shout-out to Beckie Tran for being my inspiration for this). Music has always been something that I've been very comfortable writing about, so I figure this challenge will give me the push that I need to get this blog back up to speed. With that said...

Day 1: Your Favorite Song

If I define my favorite song as being the one song I've gladly and deliberately listened to the most times in my life and will probably continue to listen to for the rest of my life, the first track that comes to mind is Death Cab for Cutie's Transatlanticism.

It's difficult to put into words what this song means to me, because it's meant so many different things and evoked so many different emotions at various and numerous points in my life. What's easy to put into words is the fact that Transatlanticism has to be both one of the most beautiful and most epic songs Death Cab have ever written, and perhaps will ever write. Maybe that's why almost every single show I've seen them play, has ended with some heartstring-tugging, knot-in-stomach-forming version of Transatlanticism -- from the time the band closed with it at the Wiltern in 2005 and I found myself being moved to tears for the first and one of the only times at a live show, to the time they closed with it at the Hollywood Bowl in 2009 accompanied by the LA Philharmonic and a full set of fireworks, leading to every one of my previous conceptions of the term "mindblowing" being completely shattered.

I can't even begin to count how many times I've listened to this song on repeat -- walking home late at night in New York City, driving alone aimlessly with the windows down at home, attempting to lull myself to sleep after a long and tiring day. I make no exaggeration when I say that I know this song like the back of my hand -- from every guitar chord, strike of the piano, and slam of the snare or ride cymbal, to every breath Ben Gibbard takes before singing "I need you so much closer," and every collective breath the band seems to take as they chime in for the song's last and most poignant few lines of "so come on."

This song pretty much means the world to me, and although I'm sure many of you have heard it, here it is again for those of you who would like to revisit it, or those of you who have yet to be properly introduced to it.

Transatlanticism