I’m desperately trying to hold onto the remaining bits of summer through my music as the temperature continues to drop outside. I’m quickly learning that listening to summer-stained guitars, lo-fi fuzz and the unique Californian vocal whine is not the cure for the end-of-the-summer blues. I have discovered, however, that collecting what you’ve listened over the summer incites the most violent wave of nostalgia in your chest.
I’m not talking like “punched-in-the-face, kicked-in-the-gut” violent, but rather a figurative, hard-hitting blow to the chest that oddly gives rise to the warm, fuzzy feelings of sitting on a beach with your best friends from home or college. Trust me, if you feel like procrastinating (and I don’t know why you would want to—it’s still early in the semester, guys and gals, get it together!), it’s a fun activity to do. You’ll start realizing how much music you actually do listen to.
No, just me? All right.
It’s no secret that music can immediately transport you to a specific time and place. Take a ride down memory lane with me to a land of pure pasta, wine and olive oil-gination (Italy).
“Lonely Town” by Brandon Flowers, off of his record, The Desired Effect.
It’s really no secret that I have a full-blown crush on Brandon Flowers. He’s a musical superstar with a handsome face to boot. It was an emotional night to say the least when I saw him live at Terminal 5 this past August.
The song opens up quietly with delicate piano chords which are immediately contrasted with the bright, metallic sound of horns. Yet, the combination of these two instruments, in addition to the gentle clock-ticking in the back, is violently melancholy. Flowers spares no moment to jump into yet another tale of brokenhearted, lonely people. While it’s a story that is constantly reused, Flowers always brings a fresh twist on it—not once does his story grow old.
In the middle of the song, Flowers’ voice is bolstered by a gospel choir of sorts. It only adds to the feeling of desperation and suffering the speaker is enduring throughout “Lonely Town.”
Please stop crying.
“Masokissed” by The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, off of their album, Days Of Abandon.
I have very distinct memories of traversing the streets of Florence to this song. The guitar is just so freakin’ happy—how could you not make this your go-to walking song?
This song is almost incessantly upbeat. The jangling guitars only seek to make you tap your feet. Kip Berman, the lead singer, has a voice that is so sweet, it leaves you yearning for more. When this song ends, you’ll be frustrated that it isn’t longer.
And how can you beat the cuteness of the lyrics, “Sweet masokissed in the morning mist / Why would you ever leave this place? / When all I need is your chipped tooth smile to know / Life’s more than okay.” The imagery here is f*cking beautiful. Morning mist? When’s the last time you heard those words paired together? It’s a good dose of positivity for the upcoming, potentially-dangerous, semester.
“Kaputt” by Destroyer, off of their record, Kaputt.
There is something otherworldly about “Kaputt” and, honestly, Destroyer in general. The synthesizers have an Outer Space-adventure feel about them. When Dan Bejar comes in with his gravely, almost-spoken word voice, you’ll feel yourself about to fall apart. There’s something about his voice that makes me want to pull my hair out because there’s something horrifically romantic about it.
Put it this way: Destroyer is literal poetry put to music. You know how when you read a poem and makes no effin’ sense (English majors endure this on a regular basis—I speak from experience)? That’s Destroyer. It only makes you want to listen to them more. I guarantee you. You’ll be printing out the lyrics and annotating them like—
Okay, that’s definitely just me. I’ll go sit in my f*ckin’ nerd corner now.
“Our Composition Book” by Wild Nothing, off of their album, Gemini.
For whatever reason, this song was one of the few I could access while I was in Florence. I used to wake up to this song playing from my iPad on my cold apartment floor with the sun glaring in my sleeping face.
There is something refreshing about the quick note progression in this track. It’s easy to latch on to—you’ll find yourself humming it throughout the day—but it’s not an aggressive melody. There’s a lot happening in this piece. Featuring Jack Tatum’s warm, groaning voice, there’s something unbearable cute about “Our Composition Book.” While the saccharine-sweet guitar riff dictates your ear for most of the piece, when Tatum’s voice comes in to tell some sort of story about acceptance as suggested by the lyric, “I don’t know / Where you came from / But I don’t care.” In general, dream-pop good fashion, his vocals are generally obscured by noise. Don’t let that deter you, however. Let each sound wash over you. Relive the best parts of your summer—you’ll want to during the end of the piece where the guitar sounds reminiscent of waves crashing on the beach.
“Can’t You See” by Skylar Spence, to be released on his record, Prom King.
I never appreciated my home WiFi connection more than I did when I tried to download this song off of shoddy Italian WiFi. Ten minutes to download a song that was about five megabytes. FIVE.
Let’s take it up a notch and dance our end-of-summer blues to the song for that special egotistic maniac in your life (me). Featuring great lyrics such as “In the heat of the moment / I thought I could kiss myself” and “I’m in love with my own reflection,” boost your own narcissism and ego with Skylar Spence as he takes you on a nu-disco rollercoaster ride. The synth is bouncy, the bass aggressive and his voice mellow. In short, you’ll feel auditory confusion—but it blends together perfectly to bring back around the perfect 80s revival.
“Surreal Exposure” by Ducktails, off of their album, St. Catherine.
I had listened to this song religiously once I was able to connect back to Spotify in Italy. When this record came out, I had to lay down on my couch for ten minutes because I was so overwhelmed with how good it was.
“Surreal Exposure” opens up with an atmospheric noise, lulling you into a trance. This trance is only further amplified by the repetitive guitar that runs throughout the piece. Matthew Mondanile, the lead singer, has a voice that is the definition of cool and mellow. He makes singing seem like an effortless process. You’ll be so caught up in the dreaminess of this piece, when it ends, you’ll feel like you’ve been on another planet for the past 50 years. It’s that hypnotic.
“Loveblood” by Sundara Karma.
Sundara Karma in “Loveblood” has that traditional, aggressive rock sound. You’ll want to kick over a chair, sing into your hairbrush, maybe jump around to burn off all that excess energy this song inspires in you.
The song surprises you with a momentary slowdown just past the middle of the piece, only to jump right back into its original, relentless tempo. With the occasional flourish of the black keys in the chorus, you won’t be bored while listening to this song.
“20/20” by The Vaccines, off of their record, English Graffiti.
What I particularly enjoy about this track is how simply it describes the frustrations of love. The chorus, again, features that traditional rock-and-roll aggression and attitude, bolstered only by frantic guitars, but it ends nearly as quickly as it started. Justin Young’s anger in the chorus translates into the speaker pretending to be over his or her heartbreak, but that façade is gone because the chorus ends with Young whispering into the microphone, “All I want is you” repeatedly.
I’m on to you, The Vaccines.
“Break Me Down” by Paul Smith and The Intimations, off of their album, Contradictions.
“Break Me Down” is a simple, light-hearted indie rock track coming from Paul Smith of Maxïmo Park’s solo project. Unlike the jerky, frantic nature of Maxïmo Park, this track features gentle guitar melody paired with Smith’s accent-heavy, mellowed-out upbeat voice. There’s something incredibly relaxing about this song—even when it gets loud, it’s not that loud. There’s just something very sweet about it.
The music video is one of the coolest things I’ve seen as of late.
“Cath…” by Death Cab For Cutie, off of their record, Narrow Stairs.
This defined the first half of my Florence trip. I had to listen to it at every waking second lest I be overcome with auditory frustration.
This song is tragic. The chorus? “Well, everybody will ask / What became of you / ‘cause your heart was dying fast / And you didn’t know what to do.” These lyrics paired with Ben Gibbard’s perpetually pleading voice, you’ve got three minutes and forty-nine seconds of pure heartbreak. The verse guitar chords are so robotic, mirroring the acted nature of this “Cath” in the piece. The swelling, ascending set of chords in the chorus? A build-up to nothing—much like the fate of Cath.
On that wildly positive set-off, I leave you until next week, Jaspers.