Okkervil River - Lost Coastlines

The best part about Will Sheff and Jonathan Meiburg is that, when they came together to make music, they formed two bands instead of one.  And now we’re really seeing the culmination of this — Shearwater just released one of the best albums of the year, and Okkervil River is soon to release a new record and follow-up (and sequel) to The Stage Names, dubbed The Stand Ins.

It seems like there’s now been some changes, though; since May Meiburg has left his duties in Okkervil River this year to formally take on Shearwater, and Sheff seems to have distanced himself from the Shearwater camp.  Meiburg wrote all of Shearwater’s songs on Rook for the first time.  Perhaps these two friends are parting ways, instead of sharing the creation of their music under both names as they have in the past.  Maybe this is a good thing.  Maybe it will prove to be a disaster.  Or maybe they will continue to make songs together, mixing and moving like bodily fluids between the bands.

I don’t know.

But this song is like The Forks in the centre of Winnipeg — it’s a Shearwater song and it’s an Okkervil song and who even cares anymore when we’re slapped around with this kind of greatness.  When I listen to this I’m being swept away like the broken branches of an Oak tree in the melding currents of Manitoba’s thaw.

Martha Wainwright - Bleeding All Over You

To:
Patrick Delou
2856 Rue Racine
Paris, France

October 21st, 1973

Dear Patrick,

I told myself I would write to you last year at this time, but I didn’t have the courage.  I couldn’t do it.  I’m sorry.  I hope you are still at this address — I spoke to Fredrich and Philippe and they said this was the place.  How are you Patrick?

I suppose it has been two years…

England is as enjoyable as it can be.  I spend my days in the parks with the dogs and I am finally reading Camus (and regrettably enjoying it).   I am becoming a better cook (I think) and I stopped smoking so much.  I have taken a job with the Government like I told you I always would.  It is a good job but the people are a little bit snobby to newcomers.  I am waiting to become settled in.

How is Paris?  I hope you still like it as much as you did when I left.  I am thinking of going to Germany in the Spring to visit my friend Gerda.  She lives outside of Hamburg and has a small farm with her fiancé.  She invited me to come this summer but I was busy with my new job.  I will let you know when I do go; I can meet you in Paris for a short time.  I would be thrilled to see you.

There are days when I wished I hadn’t left Paris, but perhaps I was getting sick of it all.  I wish I could have spoken French — it’s so troublesome when you can’t speak the same language as someone else.  I’m sorry.

I hope you are well.  Tell me everything!

Emmy

A.C. Off Summer Mix

In an effort to keep the blood flowing these days, I decided to make a summer mix.  I have titled it A.C. Off Summer Mix.  I used Not-So-Cool Edit to blend/cross-fade the songs into each other to make it cooler (cheesier).   It is a decent mix that has mostly been inspired by a guy on the What.cd? forums who said:

“sometimes i think of a world in which the supremes’ “you can’t hurry love” never existed.
i’m glad i live in this world.”

Here is the tracklisting:

1. Since I Left You by The Avalanches
2. Paltimos Park by El Guincho
3. Inní mér syngur vitleysingur by Sigur Ros
4. Fake Empire (Live) by The National
5. No Excuses by Air France
6. Depressing Interlude Feat. Billy Bragg, NMH, Manitoba
7. Get Lost by Patrick Wolf
8. Mwana Wamai Dada Naye by Hallelujah Chicken Run Band
9. My Boy Lollipop by Millie Smalls
10. I Zimbra (Live) by Talking Heads
11. You Can’t Hurry Love by The Supremes
12. Love Made Visible by Delays
13. Feel The Love by Cut Copy
14. Abacus by Fionn Regan

Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes - (I’ve Had) The Time Of My Life

I was at the dentist’s yesterday getting drilled into (that’s what she said).  I was put under Nitrous Oxide, which is the best part of any dentist trip I’ve ever been on (pun intended).  It’s really strange because you feel how a toddler must feel — you’re trapped in a booster seat watching food on a spoon zoom around your face to a mother’s airplane sounds.

I also sweat a lot under the gas.

It’s also a little bit difficult with the gas because I’m a mouth breather; I always have to concentrate really hard on only breathing with my nose.  There is usually at least one moment when I’m under the gas where I get a sudden urge to freak out and rip off the whole apparatus.  I don’t think this will ever change.

I’m not sure what song was playing on the radio; I don’t remember because I was under the gas.  If I had to guess (which is exactly what I am doing), I would say it was this one from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.  But this might be the compounded nature of my consciousness; I saw the VHS of Dirty Dancing in my living room downstairs because my Mom had taken it out to watch it a few days ago.  In any case, the gas from the dentist made everything a little bit wonky, and so the music from the song came through my ears like a weird remix by sixteen year olds done haphazardly in GarageBand.  I began thinking about how the song was maybe better this way (as a to-myself indictment, mostly, of easy-listening radio).  This made me sort of laugh.  It was a kind of stoner-giggle that must’ve been embarrassing.  But I suppose this is why they call it “laughing gas.”

I think I chose this song because it’s a bit ironic when paired with a trip to the dentist.  So when you listen to the song, think about the last time you were at the dentist.  Think about Nitrous Oxide, or needles.  It’s kind of funny.

I got three small cavities fixed; I laughed at easy-listening radio; I soaked my shirt with sweat; it cost a lot of money.  I had the time of my life.

The Shangri-las - Love You More Than Yesterday

To:
Patrick Delou
36 Point D’Erable
Lyon, France

September 14, 2007

Patrick,

It’s been thirty-six years now…  How have you been?

Today I was sitting alone in the kitchen with an apple thinking about the balloon rides we took in Switzerland that summer in 1966.  I can still remember the white sails on Lake Geneva, seen from above.  I dug up a photo book and found the one of us leaning on the vined wall — the one Fredrich took with his old Finetta.  I couldn’t believe my hair!  And yours, too!  It’s a great photo, I wish you could see it — see us.  It made me remember the cheese we tasted later that day, and when you spilled wine on your pants because of the boy and his fireworks.  I thought, then, that you would strangle him and we’d be sent to the border guards in handcuffs.  Just about the only other thing I can remember was The Shangri-las record I bought.  I  was so surprised to have found it in Switzerland, and I treasured it even when you scoffed at my choice.  I loved that thing, and I listened to it all the time.  Now I haven’t heard The Shangri-las in years.

It’s been difficult here in Britain the last few weeks.  Sometimes there is nothing to do but sit and think.  I am going strawberry picking with Rosey tomorrow — do you remember her?  I’m sure I mention her in some of the other letters.  She and I are still very close.  It’s amazing how with some people you never get tired of anything. I will pick a few baskets to make jam.  I always make jam at this time of year and use it in the winter.  It’s a long process but I’ve found that I can’t be without my jam anymore.

I think that is all I have to say.  I just thought I would let you know about the photo, and the memories.

I hope that just this once you could write me back.  I would love to hear from you, Patrick.

Sincerely,

Emma Wellington

Sigur Ros - Inní mér syngur vitleysingur

Today, in my conveniently red car, I blast this thing driving into Glen Williams.

It’s Canada Day, and the sun is spilling all over like a busted sprinkler on the lawn, and everyone’s out watching ducks race down rivers and blurs of red and white. It’s summer and fuck it’s all so gorgeous out there in the world. You’d almost guess, if you were from a foreign country, that they’re all hurling fireworks up into the sky tonight as a sacrifice — to conjure the sun back into existence and this is how they do it, this is how they keep it all so wonderful. You’d think this place doesn’t understand the concept of ice but still uses it enthusiastically in drinks, like a die-hard dollar-store shopper who hates the Chinese economy. You’d think the boy in the sandbox doesn’t know what the hell a snowplough is.

So what’s a better way to welcome the day than with a song from Iceland, a song by a band who’d convinced us all that their country was a dreary and morose place of little-light and lovelorn feelings. Turns out Sigur Ros were lying to us all along. Over there, at some not-so-distant latitude, they must have hammock-hungry days like this one. There must be fireworks filling the sky. There must be jumping and strawberries and explosive kisses under large trees. The entire population must shed themselves of their wool sweaters and sweat in the sun. It must all happen there — these are the scenes from which the band snatched this song.

Why? - These Few Presidents

There’s a pile over there in the tall grass of what used to be a railroad switch — the flag, some ties and the special kind of rails that flank over into the main rail. All of the components. These parts haven’t been used in years, sure, but there’s the pile. It’s stacked up and showing something for itself. A little rust, a little worse than fifteen years ago when everything was one oiled machine, cared for and working day in, day out like the best mine in Timmins, Ontario. You can see it — stand on it even. There was a time when it was one single thing; there was a time when it carried the weight of a prairie field on its back; there was a time when it brought lovers together.  It steered the heavy fates of a thousand North American locomotives.

But now here. Not worse, really. I wouldn’t say worse. It’s just not a railroad switch anymore. It’s not the same.

Pen and Ink art by Cheyne Rood.

Jimmy Cliff - Vietnam

Some songs are hot pockets in the freezer, shaking in a shell of frost but moving kinetically on the inside. Or, okay, let’s invert that metaphor — let’s put the heat on the outside and the icicles inside. The surface of a deep lake on a summer’s day, let’s say.

Cliff’s position is optimistic and graceful, filled with enthusiasm while brushing up against a quick whimper. And it’s a fitting position, maybe, for someone caught flatfooted like all of the people receiving letters in the story. Cliff, too, can only tell us about what happened — his protests, which fall softly on summer grass in the backyard of the song’s chorus, are like fists wrapped in the fear and powerlessness of a white plaster cast.

Tom Waits - Time

“But after I had got them out and shut the door and turned off the light it wasn’t any good. It was like saying good-by to a statue. After awhile I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.”

Death Cab For Cutie - Steadier Footing

The advent of the new Death Cab album got me thinking about my favourites by them. Do you like Death Cab? They used to be my favourite band, and they’re an important band because they were a segway from the pop-punk/emo stuff I used to listen to exclusively into new varieties of music that consistently blew (and continue to blow) my mind. “Steadier Footing” is my favourite Death Cab song. I think it’s been that way for a while. It’s not really a great song — it’s a small song that’s sort of an intro song to The Photo Album – but I think I love it because it’s the perfect end-of-high-school song and because I listened to it a lot when high school was ending.

And it’s the end of high school for someone out there, and so if by chance you fit this description this is the song you should be listening to. Listen to it. It’s perfect because it’s so stagnant and fresh all at once — it’s a summation and acceptance of the past (and the missed opportunities therein) and a turn towards an untouched future. The future, spaced out with the uncertainty of crop seeds in April.

It works so well because “all of our friends” fade into obscured drunks, signaling the knowing everybody-to-nobody shift, and a high school crush is bottled up and thrown away - sex is traded for what’s essentially a discussion over a yearbook’s comments. A moment of remembrance and sharing. A moment of a realization that the repetition continues elsewhere: at work, at a University campus, some new town. You’re quitting this whole scheme but it’s all coming back again someplace new.

In other news; my Top Ten (okay Eleven) Death Cab For Cutie Songs (yeah, I only listened to the older albums later, so they never had a hold on me):

Transatlanticism
Steadier Footing
Company Calls
Company Calls, Epilogue
405
Song For Kelly Huckaby
We Looked Like Giants
Blacking Out The Friction
Photobooth
Brothers On A Hotel Bed
Title Track

The best songs from Narrow Stairs are “Cath,” “Grapevine Fires” and “Bixby Canyon Bridge.” And, yea; what they’re all saying is true. The lyrics are slipping.