Indigo Girls, “Kid Fears”

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indigogirls-indigogirls.jpgWhat would replace the rent with the stars above?
Replace the need with love?
Replace the anger with the tide?
Replace the ones that you love?

 

 

One of the least important things about this song is intimately connected with one of the most significant. Life’s funny that way. Laura was the first person to play it for me. In the days of my earliest infatuation with her, we were sitting on the floor of her room, listening to music, and fiddling around with her guitar. She was practicing a variety of things (many of them from Sarah McLachlan’s “Fumbling Towards Ecstasy” album, which I had also just heard for the first time). At the time, I had no idea who the Indigo Girls were { “I mean, c’mon, they’re a girl band” – I would have said}, but I did know and love R.E.M. Every member of R.E.M. performs on this record, but none so spectacularly as Michael Stipe. { Honestly, has any other band ever done so much mentoring? Eddie Vedder discussed this when he inducted R.E.M. into the rock and roll hall of fame, and you can find that here, here, and here. But seriously? Peter Buck contributed great things to albums by The Replacements. Michael Stipe shepherded Thom Yorke in his time of crisis. Then Eddie Vedder. And a host of other bands from the Athens, GA area – including the Indigo Girls. And I’ll never stop thinking about what might have come out of the “acoustic” stuff he was working on with Kurt Cobain. The man really is a dynamo…} Now, as anyone who will have heard old recordings of band practice will know {And yes, I realize this represents a small, miserable population of people who will likely never speak to me again.}, I once had the uncanny ability to sound just like Mr. Stipe when speaking into a tape recorder. So, naturally, Laura thought I would be able to sing this song with her. And, naturally, that I’d be able to play along with her.

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The Smiths, “There Is A Light That Never Goes Out”

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thereisalight.jpgTake me out, tonight.
Where there’s music and there’s people
And they’re young and alive.
Driving in your car,
I never never want to go home…

 

 

When I think back on my life in high school, and the friends that were there, it’s hard to overstate the immenseness of Chris‘ importance to me. We were, of course, members of the ill-fated band. But before that, we were often to be found driving across the landscape in Chris’ venerable { Read: decrepit (but lovably so). And I suppose we were, on occasion, not so much driving as watching others drive from the sidelines. Bless that little car… }Ford tempo. Most nights, we didn’t really have a destination. We’d make loops of our suburban town, wander up to Nashua, and then eventually head home. Yet, despite the relative simpleness of these outings, and their rather generic nature, I can think of few things in my life that I treasure more. And the reason for that, of course, was a shared love for loud music, and a mutual lack of concern for the passing of time.

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Site News

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Hey Everyone,

As you can see, things have changed. First of all, I’m trying out a new look for the site, and I’d really like your opinion. Please use the poll to the side, comment here, or both! I feel like things are considerably more personal, now, and we can move on to phase two of my evil plan. All in good time, though. Also, you’ll notice (if you’re particularly astute) that the permalinks have changed. { One of the results being that all of the YouTube videos now behave in IE… } You may now (and are encouraged to) visit the site via http://www.songsthatsavedyourlife.com. This will be the last time you need to update your bookmarks. Feeds should remain untouched. { I am such a liar. My love of tinkering has broken the old rss feed. Please re-subscribe. Pretty please? I promise I’ll never touch the server again. Ever. }

As I alluded to before, there are some longer posts to come in the next couple of weeks. Also, I am still working on the site’s first-ever collaborative project, and I hope to have news in a couple of weeks. Until then, for your singing and dancing pleasure, I leave you Thing One and Thing Two. Have a great April!

Emili­ana Torrini, “Heartstopper”

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b0002jep6o02_scmzzzzzzz_.jpgOutside your house
To make a scene
In my head you grabbed me passionately
But the lights are out
And in an hour I walk on home
In the pouring shower

 

 

A couple of years ago, Lucy told me about Last.fm. Like most interesting things, I went to have a look, but never really made my way to being a full user. The idea intrigued me, but I had a pretty steady supply of new music from “other sources.” Things have changed, however, and I’ve been revisiting the site. Most of the time, when I’m feeling like my life has gotten into a bit of a rut, a great new album will pull me out. Or, indeed, a great old album. These tend to be seasonal, but they almost always do the trick. And that’s where I’m at with “Fisherman’s Woman” by Emilíana Torrini.

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Soma, “Orange”

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If the story of my band were turned into a film, or even a VH1 “Behind the Music” special, I’m certain that the opening credits would be superimposed over the Replacements’ “Bastards of Young.” (“God, what a mess / on the ladder of success. / Well, you take one step and miss the whole first rung.”) {In fact, in the screenplay I have co-written on this very topic, this is precisely the case. Do I have a gift for clairvoyancy, or what? } Yeah. I often feel that way when I think about the little band that couldn’t. Or, indeed, that could have if not for a series of prototypically teenage miscues. (Or, perhaps, some media-perpetuated heresies. That sounds better, right? Yeah. Damn the Man.)

We were, or, in all honesty, I was preoccupied with the band’s “image.” There is, of course, the necessary teenage device of signifying “I’m in a band” by dressing/acting like dizzy, beflanneled messiahs from the Pacific Northwest. (This was the early-to-mid nineties.) Beyond that, there’s the leftover punk/grunge remnant which suggested that playing instruments well was secondary to the atmosphere which the band affected. (This continues to this day. I’m looking at you Marilyn…and, I suppose if we switch out “atmosphere” for “train wreck,” then I’m averting my gaze from you Britney, Paris et al.) Beyond that, there was the fact that I was a teenager writing the sort of stuff that everyday teenagers write. And, more or less, that’s how the first twenty minutes of our VH1 special would go – stuck in my parents’ basement, and wondering, as Bill S. Preston, Esq. and Ted (Theodore) Logan once did, whether or not we should learn to play our instruments.
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