The Dunce Cap, Vol. 53: The things that used to mean so much to me have gone the way of dinosaurs – hopes and dreams and everything. (click on link to listen to mix via 8tracks or play above)
1. “Career Day” – The Format
2. “Silver Things” – Limbeck
3. “Her Words Destroyed My Planet” – Motion City Soundtrack
4. “Blacking Out the Friction” – Death Cab for Cutie
5. “Social Development Dance” – Pete Yorn
6. “(If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To” – Weezer
7. “Let Me Go” – Marvelous 3
8. “I Saw Lightning” – Telekinesis
9. “I Need My Girl” – The National
10. “Breathing Underwater” – Metric
Happy 2015, y’all! I’m still mostly listening to tracks from the past decade, though I admit I’m really hopping on the Swift train with the singles from her recent release. Just a few notes on these:
“Her Words Destroyed My Planet” has such a solid Veronica Mars reference in it; the whole track reminds me of being 17 and heartbroken and desperate to move forward (Justin Pierre’s near-yelp of “I’m learning to speak Japanese!” slays me every time), and it’s just great.
My sister and I are big Pete Yorn fans; I was 11 when I picked up musicforthemorningafter from Tower Records in Buckhead, and my father – tired of hearing it constantly – dubbed him “Pete Yawn.” His follow up efforts didn’t come close to his first record, but 2009’s Back and Fourth comes pretty damn close. “Social Development Dance” is a decidedly weird song – but I like it.
In September, Riot Fest brought an incredible line-up to Chicago’s Humboldt Park, including the likes of The National, The Hold Steady, Weezer, The Get Up Kids, Tegan and Sara and a whole slew more. It was, in short, fantastic. Ten artists played their seminal albums in their entirety, like The Get Up Kids’ Something to Write Home About and Weezer’s Blue. Somewhat surprisingly, the most captivating moment of the three-day festival was Metric’s showstopping finale; I caught the tail end of Metric somewhat on a whim and was bowled over by their haunting performance of “Breathing Underwater.” The studio version doesn’t quite do it justice, but it’s certainly a start.
I’ve spent the last year changing zip codes and time zones every few months, and, while it’s been something of an adventure, it’s nice to have roots somewhere. Atlanta, for all intents and purposes, is that place. Sure, all of my stuff is tossed in haphazardly labeled boxes or strewn in loosely tied dry cleaning bags, and my father has converted my bedroom into his walk-in closet, but it’s the only place I’ve lived in for any substantial period of time. Plus, there’s this real fun (and real, real hairy) guy who likes to bury his head into the couch beside me – and he likes to snuggle, though sometime I hope he’ll return the head rubs – and there are some of the normal creature comforts.
But, as all of you are surely aware, I just finished a three-month tenure in San Francisco, Calif., that bounty of wealth, fog and endless shorelines. In three plus years in Chicago, I found a true sense of home; granted, I had the built-in social networks afforded by being enrolled in a university, but Chicago was, too, a city I could master (and one I cannot wait to return to, but that bucket list is forthcoming). San Francisco was slower to warm to; I fell instantly in love with the city and its gorgeous views, with the rolling hills and the truly stellar burritos, but I didn’t quite learn to call it home. My love affair was brief, if only because I am not yet in the professional and/or emotional position to be a true San Franciscan. It’s, I’ve found, a late-20s and beyond sort of town, whose inhabitants need flexible incomes to be young and in love. I was a poor, if incredibly happy, editorial intern. My time there was reformative, giving me the strength and drive to write again, rebuilding my self-confidence and sculpting my calves (you should seriously see these things; they’re basically registered weapons), but it wasn’t home.
Nevertheless, I left with a cavalcade of exceptional memories; I can’t begin to chronicle them here, but I’m sure you’ll read them woven into future essays. For now, I’ll leave you with a couple of the ones caught on tape.
In October, I won a pair of Treasure Island Music Festival weekend passes from the Bay Bridged by submitting a reworked version of “Patch Adams” starring The Hold Steady. The festival was incredible and gave me glimpses into sets from The Hold Steady, Death Cab, The Head and the Heart, Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks and The Naked and Famous, among so, so many more. But the crowning, uh, achievement, I guess, of the weekend was landing a role in the Ferris Wheel Confessions, brought to the festival jointly by the Bay Bridged and Audyssey. Basically, if you agree to participate, and if you’re one of the few who sign up immediately, you get a free ride on the 60-foot Ferris Wheel; during your ten or so minute ride, you’re asked a handful of questions about your musical proclivities (the more embarrassing, the better), and they capture your responses on film. Post-festival, they mash together all the best moments and release two videos, a teaser and a longer form. Not to brag or whatevs, but I’m featured pretty prominently in both, embedded below. Look out for the girl with the bright, neon yellow hoodie, with hair all tousled (sex-ay) and glasses askew. Gents, the line starts here.
I like a lot of songs. And I just so happen to really, truly like a lot of bad songs. Glimpse my iPod on BART, or use the elliptical next to mine at the gym, and you’re sure to catch some fairly embarrassing things. I admit to still occasionally partaking in a little pop-punk (ask me about that rediscovery sometime) and even some pure ’60s sugar, and I find that, sometimes, the unsubstantial can be comforting. But not every song has redeeming qualities. Some are fraught with disquieting memories, and others are so bad they hit bad-good and simply wrapped back around. And those are the ones I’ve finally begun saying my good-byes to. That’s where my newest feature, The Sunshine House, comes into play.
The Sunshine House, which is a nod to the daycare center of the same overly cheery name, is my way of bidding songs a proper adieu. There are more than enough tracks to serve as proper fodder for this sort of feature, and I think it can make for fun, short entries.
To kick things off, I created a mix on 8tracks of twenty-five love songs that are ripe for retirement.
I’ve spent about ten years composing calculated mix CDs for the boys for whom I harbor intense crushes, and I’ve learned there are only so many times Ben Gibbard can coo that he’ll follow me into the dark without it becoming insincere. Certain songs get old fast. Don’t get me wrong – I have intense relationships with a number of love songs, include these tracks I’ve included on The Sunshine House Collective, from “This is the Sweetest Little Song” by Butch Walker and the Let’s-Go-Out-Tonites to Wilco’s “I’m the Man Who Loves You.” And not all of these songs are bad or overwrought or overplayed, but love songs are a complicated sort. Like every girl shaped by cinema, I form unbreakable associations between people and songs, and so many of these tracks are forever tainted by these associations. “Treehouse” was Duck’s song, while “Thirteen,” “Sixteen, Maybe Less” and “First Day of My Life” were all about being sixteen and positively infatuated with the first boy I ever thought I loved. Some love songs are timeless; “Everlong” will never lose its luster, while the early Beatles pop songs will always perfectly describe the careful build-up of a love story. But some of these tracks can never be applied to another chapter in my romantic life. I’ve liked a lot of boys, and a lot of songs are headed to this musical graveyard, but, for now, we can get started with these twenty-five. Suffice to say, these tracks won’t be making any mixes for the foreseeable future.
The the line-up’s below. I can’t promise I’ll be back in full force just yet; I know I’ve been away a long time, but I’m sans computer currently, and it’s hard to promise regular blog posts without one. I am living in San Francisco currently, and that’s looking like a more permanent thing, so hopefully I’ll be able to carve out a more regular post schedule soon. But, for now:
The Dunce Cap, Vol. 37: I want to run like vagrants hand in hand across this field. (click on link to listen to mix via 8tracks)
1. “Turn a Square” – The Shins
2. “Pumped Up Kicks” – Owl Eyes
3. “Fixed Gears and Broken Hearts” – Butch Walker
4. “Hospital Bed” – Ben Kweller
5. “Another Reason to Go” – Vetiver
6. “Stay Young, Go Dancing” – Death Cab For Cutie
7. “Costume Party” – Two Door Cinema Club
8. “Judy and the Dream of Horses” – Belle & Sebastian
9. “I Wish I Was the Moon” – Neko Case
10. “Stay…Don’t Go” – Spoon
Ho-ley ba-jeez-huss. There’s so much music comin’ out these days. There’s so much good music – I’m swimming in it. Well, that’s not totally true. I’m sitting here listening to Cake at maximum volume, caught up in the sensation of being a fluorescent adolescent, but I’ve heard murmurings of all the good tunes out there. I’m getting casually reacquainted, so you’ll notice this particular mix pairs some familiar tracks with newer gems from some well-established bands.
There’s also a pretty (no, seriously, really pretty) cover of one of the summer’s hottest tunes, Foster the People‘s “Pumped Up Kicks,” as well as a song from Vetiver, one of my very favorite acts. And a great bonus track from Butch Walker (who has a new album coming out 8.30!) with a line about cyclists. And an incredibly clever (and great) ditty from Ben Kweller (“This machine is so mature. It’s so much your – type.”)
All in all, a playlist I’m excited to listen to myself. Tracks n’ tracks n’ snacks n’ snacks n’ stacks n’… Thrills.
The Dunce Cap, Vol. 17: The room is on fire as she’s fixing her hair. (listen to mix via 8tracks)
1. “If You Find Yourself Caught In Love” – Belle & Sebastian
2. “Congratulations Smack and Katy” – Reggie and the Full Effect
3. “I Met a Girl” – Wheat
4. “Spitting Games” – Snow Patrol
5. “Down” – Blink-182
6. “Reptilia” – The Strokes
7. “Naive” – The Jealous Sound
8. “So Says I” – The Shins
9. “Amsterdam” – Guster
10. “Chicago is so Two Years Ago” – Fall Out Boy
11. “California Waiting” – Kings of Leon
12. “Mexican Wine” – Fountains of Wayne
13. “The Sound of Settling” – Death Cab for Cutie
14. “Shiny” – The Decemberists
15. “Toxic” – Britney Spears
16. “My Favorite Accident” – Motion City Soundtrack
17. “Shakin’” – Rooney
18. “Such Great Heights” – The Postal Service
19. “So Long, Astoria” – The Ataris
20. “My Coco” – stellastarr*
Four score & seven years ago…
The year is 2003. Ariel Sharon is the newly elected Prime Minister of Israel. I am only nominally Jewish. The war in Iraq has just begun. 100 people have lost their lives in The Station night club fire, as pyrotechnics from Great White’s stage show set the insulation foam ceiling alight.The O.C. premieres on Fox.
I am in seventh grade. I no longer have braces, and my hair is just growing out of its yield sign phase. I carry a tin Weezer lunchbox to school, and I still listen to Good Charlotte mostly unabashedly. This is the summer of my musical discontent, and it is, in response, the spring of my musical awakening.
Seven years ago,I was in seventh grade. I had just recently discovered that all music did not come from boy bands and teen queens, and I had also become incredibly engrossed in Josh Schwartz‘s The O.C. I was obsessed with Weezer. My taste in music was rapidly expanding, and 2003 was certainly the year my music repertoire really took shape. It was the heyday of pop-punk and my real transition into indie. In the hopes of avoiding sounding even sappier than I do now, this should suffice: 2003 was the first year I really, truly started to love music. Music by musicians with musical talent. And, man, the new material that came out of 2003 continues to astound me and occupy my iPod with some regularity. It may be a bit melodramatic to say that 2003 was the year I came into myself, as that’s an exaggeration, but it was certainly the year I began a great passion for music.
I started to make mixtapes for friends and boys, and these artists really became staples of my playlists. There was The Postal Service’s Give Up, Belle and Sebastian’s Dear Catastrophe Waitress, Death Cab’s gorgeously lush Transatlanticism, The Shins’ Chutes Too Narrow. There was the catchier-than-the-common-cold Yellowcard, a maturing Fall Out Boy, an aging Chris Carrabba in Dashboard and an Alkaline Trio album that was just melodious enough to shout out loud. There were two hilarious videos for Motion City Soundtrack’s “The Future Freaks Me Out” and Reggie and the Full Effect’s “Congratulations, Smack and Katy.”
There was a White Stripes album that nearly overshadowed the brilliance their fans had come to expect with De Stijl and White Blood Cells. There was a disappointing Saves the Day follow-up to an album (Stay What You Are) as they drifted away from a record label, Vagrant, that would come to define my early interactions with music. That’s not to mention The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, The Stills, The Long Winters’ brilliant photograph of adolescence, When I Pretend to Fall, or even The All-American Rejects eponymous first album, a CD I bought the day it was released.
The Long Winters, “The Sound of Coming Down”
So much of who I was in school was defined by my ownership of these and other albums. I had a fervent passion for music, and 2003 was really the year that fueled my musical ravenousness. So this is an epic tribute to the year 2003, to seven years ago, to the music of the year and the efforts that would come subsequently.
Not as interactive as the last Dunce Cap, certainly, but a fair tribute to a year that changed music – for me, at least.
But seriously.
coco keevan 