Playlist #85

It’s Monday. We had to put my cat to sleep late last week, so expect most of this particular playlist to be more than a bit maudlin.

  1. Joey Purp, “Elastic”: This song has been used recently in an ad for Chromebooks. An ad that plays before and during two out of every three videos I’ve watched on Youtube in the past few weeks. It is ridiculously catchy.
  2. My Politic, “What A Life”: A folky Missouri duo (actually based out of Nashville, TN) who sing with longing and bittersweet sadness about life back home. It hits all the right spots.
  3. Hozier featuring Mavis Staples, “Nina Cried Power”: A tribute not just to Nina Simone, but Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gaye, Mavis Staples (who contributes amazing backing vocals and an excellent bridge), James Brown, and so many other giants of the R&B and blues world.
  4. Stevie Nicks, “Edge of Seventeen”: Just like the one-winged dove, indeed.
  5. The Head And The Heart, “Rivers And Roads”: These folks always seem to remind me of home, even though (1) none of them are from Oklahoma and (2) they do not, strictly speaking, play a musical style reminiscent of Oklahoma. Something in their singing and lyrics, though, evokes my home state something fierce.
  6. Jakob Dylan, “Everybody’s Hurting”: “We’ve hunted these hills dry/We’ve long outlasted the winter and our last wood pile/Only one thing is certain/That’s everybody/Everybody’s hurting.”
  7. Donovan Woods, “‘Cause the last time I saw you/Was the last time I saw you,” is such a heartbreaking line to me. You never really know when the last time you’ll see someone is.
  8. George Harrison, “All Things Must Pass”: Is this one too obvious? I don’t care. George has brought me comfort in dark times, and this song continues to do so.
  9. Sean Watkins, “Let It Fall”: I’ve probably mentioned before with this song, but it always strikes me as the sort of song that plays at the end of the movie, as we fade to black and the credits start to roll. There’s a sort of finality to it that sits with me long after the song has ended.
  10. Tom Petty, “Wake Up Time”: The closer from Petty’s best album, Wildflowers, really sums up things very well. “Well, if he gets lucky, a boy finds a girl/To help him to shoulder the pain in this world.” Sometimes we do get lucky, and we ought to cherish those we walk these roads with.

Playlist #71

Happy Tuesday! We enjoyed our Labor Day weekend, and I came up with this new playlist for you! Aren’t you lucky?

  1. Cory Branan, “When In Rome, When In Memphis”: Became obsessed with this song over the weekend. Jason Isbell and Brian Fallon (of Gaslight Anthem) add guest vocals, and the repeated refrain of “When I go, I ghost” just gets me.
  2. The National, “Weird Goodbyes (feat. Bon Iver)”: I’m a sucker for any new song by the National.
  3. Bob Dylan, “What Was It You Wanted”: Unofficial ADHD anthem, for the line “What was it you wanted/Tell me again, I forgot,” if nothing else.
  4. Jakob Dylan, “Will It Grow”: Is it gauche to follow up one Dylan with another? I don’t care. I like the song.
  5. Jars of Clay, “Age Of Immature Mistakes”: Well, if this isn’t just the song that ought to soundtrack most of my life choices.
  6. Pure Prairie League, “Amie”: There exists a version of this song sung by me, my father, my Uncle Randy, and Cousin David, and if there is any God it will never see the light of day. It is bad.
  7. Paolo Nutini, “New Shoes”: One of my students, many years ago, was absolutely obsessed with this song. I saw the music video for it. Did you know they were still making music videos in 2007?
  8. Nouvelle Vague, “Ever Fallen In Love”: The world needs more bossa nova covers of DC punk songs.
  9. Juliana Finch, “This Year”: You know I love me a Mountain Goats cover.
  10. John Prine, “Your Flag Decal Won’t Get You Into Heaven Anymore”: Prine recognized the idiocy of this stuff back in the 1970s. Dude knew what was up with performative patriotism.

Favorites: The Wallflowers’ Breach

On a whim over the weekend, I decided to listen to the Wallflowers’ Breach. In the process, I rediscovered something that I already knew: it’s a damn fine album; probably their best. Sure, there are folks who prefer Bringing Down the Horse, what with “One Headlight” and “6th Avenue Heartache,” but song for song, nothing beats Breach.

Let’s get this out of the way first: “Sleepwalker” is probably their best song. Like, in their entire catalog. Yeah, they’ve got plenty of other great songs (the aforementioned “One Headlight” and “6th Avenue Heartache,” for instance), but nothing that really reaches the level of “Sleepwalker.” If we look at the continuum of Wallflowers albums — from their trying too hard to sound like Bob Dylan debut to their trying too hard to sound like the Clash Glad All OverBreach is the album where Jakob Dylan finally becomes comfortable in his own skin and with his status as the son of one of the most famous singer/songwriters in music history. Everything about the album just clicks in a way they hadn’t before (and really haven’t since). Rami Jaffee’s keyboards are perfect, guitarist Michael Ward plays some of the best work of his career, and Dylan’s lyrics are both reminiscent of his father’s work and wholly his own.

Song by song, this is the strongest writing in the band’s catalog. Opener “Letters from the Wasteland” sets the tone: the keyboards are foreboding, as are Dylan’s lyrics. He sings of abandonment and isolation, of “Slow danc[ing] to this romance on [his] own.” From there, the band transitions into “Hand Me Down,” which could’ve been vintage Bob Dylan.

Then comes “Sleepwalker.” The minor-key, up-tempo number feels foreboding, right up until the song enters the chorus and Dylan’s vocals are accentuated with poppy hand claps. Then everything takes a turn for the worst in the bridge: “I’m in your movie and everyone looks sad/But I can hear you, your voice, the laughtrack/But you never saw my best scene/The one where I sleep/Sleepwalk into your dreams.” It’s a killer bit of lyrical genius, the sort of thing most musicians would kill to have written. And it’s not even the best bit of that particular song. Dylan is firing on all cylinders here, and the band rises to meet him.

From there, the album tracks are just as solid. “I’ve Been Delivered” is full of clever wordplay and jaunty, keyboard-driven instrumentation. “Witness” is a slow, dirge-like song that sounds — again — like vintage Bob Dylan, with the addition of excellent horns. “Some Flowers Bloom Dead” is probably the best album track the Wallflowers have ever released, with pitch-perfect guitar, keyboards, and rhythm section combining with Dylan’s vocals to carry the song forward and make you want to immediately restart the song and hear it again.

Following “Some Flowers Bloom Dead” are a pair of slower, more stripped down songs: “Mourning Train” and “Up From Under.” Both are atypical of the album, featuring pared down instrumentation (especially “Up From Under,” which is almost entirely acoustic guitar and strings) and thoughtful, introspective lyrics. From there, things pick up a bit once more for “Murder 101,” a bouncy tune about learning how to kill people.

The final two songs share some thematic elements. “Birdcage” features some of the best guitar work of the album, and it’s a damn shame the song fades out just as Michael Ward really gets going. It’s a slow, thoughtful song, meditative and deliberate. And it’s followed by “Baby Bird,” a hidden track that features plinky toy piano and a plea for the baby bird to “come back home.” It’s a beautiful, poignant way to end the album, and a perfect final track.

The Wallflowers are one of my favorite bands. I wish they’d put out music more often (their last album came out in 2012. Two thousand twelve! That’s too damn long for more music from these guys). They’re put out decent albums since then (aside from the clunker that was Red Letter Days), but nothing has come close to reaching the heights of Breach.