2nd cycle - look around! just information in the leaves (or; the century is closing down.)
A look at time & place. by dean (Originally Posted to the Start Press Substack on Jan 31, 2024)
I’ve been living in Brooklyn for about 2 years at the time of writing, since February 2022. I moved here from Bucks County, PA. This playlist cycle is largely about time & place; the world we live in and the spaces we call home.
hello, hello (the rentals, 1999.)
The Rentals rule. Matt Sharp left Weezer in the 90s and started a little spin-off band with crunchy guitars, worse vocals, and silky smooth MOOG synthesizer riffs. The Rental’s second album, Seven More Minutes, is my favorite album of theirs. It’s moody, it's very “rowdy young adult," it’s got this recurring motif storyline about the song’s narrator and a girl from Spain having a summer fling.
The song “Hello, Hello,” is a perfect encapsulation of the sound of this album, the group chant vocals and the lead synths and whatnot.
It’s about returning home, or entering a familiar space after some time away. Being together with a family, or a found family is important. I’ve been feeling a type of homesick recently since I’ve settled into being a Brooklynite. The homesickness I've been feeling is centered around a lack of a consistent community. I have wonderful coworkers and friends in the city, but the way my life is going prevents me from sticking to scheduled hanging out times, outside of the hustle of work. This song, and this album overall, makes me think about how tired I feel. Just need a place to go to, ‘where everybody knows you, everybody loves you and everybody says “this is your home.”’
There’s a line in this song that sticks with me. “The century is closing down.” I get it, in 1999, the century was actually closing down. Here in 2024, the new century has opened, I guess, but living in this part of history feels like a perpetual finale. The century was closing down in 1999, and it still is. The sentence is beautiful to me. It expresses the knowledge of feeling history unfolding, living through it. It’s wonderful in context of the album, filled with songs about Barcelona girlfriends, being in the moment of a wild youth, futbol chants about simply getting by.
I use the line often in Dungeons & Dragons campaign writing, world-building in fantasy settings. My created worlds are always on the precipice of a new decade or century. It’s always a time of change and unpredictability. We’ll return to fictional worlds later, there’s a whole playlist cycle dedicated to that topic.
in a big country (big country, 1983.)
Just musically, this song has one of the greatest guitar licks of all time at the front. That huge, wailing lead is excellent to me. The lead guitar riff played during the verse is so iconic, too. Just a lot of good clean jangle on this one.
I was introduced to this song in my high school English class, where we did a lot of close-reading analysis on indie rock and 80’s New Wave tracks. I was blown away when we listened to this song, in a darkened classroom with an overhead projector displaying the lyrics.
I'm not expecting to grow flowers in the desert, but I can live and breathe and see the sun in wintertime.
Your dreams don’t have to be incredible. I don’t want to be rich and famous, but I want to be allowed to do my thing. That’s a pretty good sentiment.
hey manhattan! (prefab sprout, 1988.)
Gosh, I love Prefab Sprout. I know they already have a song on the playlist, but they’re my current big musical obsession, so bear with me. They have a really 80’s sophisti-pop sound, engineered by Thomas Dolby on a few of their albums. Paddy McAloon’s wistful Irish vocals take me into a trance on all these songs. These guys should be more famous than they are. My favorite album, From Langley Park To Memphis, has like, one “skip” on it. It’s truly so good, you should check out the whole thing.
“Hey Manhattan!” is a melancholy song about myths, and the touted splendor of the big city. This song happens to be about the Big Apple, and it’s fun to sing along to the chorus.
I don’t read the song as being only about New York, but it’s a clear stand-in for any idealized place. It’s like the phenomenon of Paris syndrome, where tourists feel a deep disappointment after visiting Paris.
I really like New York. It’s so easy to get anywhere, even when it’s not easy. On its best days, it feels surprisingly common to run into everybody that you care about. There are countless events and gatherings and spaces to go, and community is everywhere. At its worst, you’re stuck somewhere panicking about survival.
I can imagine this song hitting in any big city that is meant to be legendary and grand.
Hey Manhattan! Here I am! Call it “Bad Luck Uncle Sam.” Scrounging Fifth Avenue - just to think the poor could live here too! But what are they to do? These myths belong to you. We live them till they're true - Manhattan, doobie-doo! Hey, Manhattan doobie-doo!
graceland (paul simon, 1986.)
I love the middle verse in this song, about the human trampoline.
There is a girl in New York City who calls herself the human trampoline, and sometimes when I'm falling, flying or tumbling in turmoil I say "woah, so this is what she means!" She means we're bouncing into Graceland!
I find myself falling, flying and tumbling in turmoil, so I also understand her.
For most people, everyday life is about routine. It’s not their preferred routine. I don’t want to do the things I gotta do, and sometimes I don’t even get the chance to do the things I gotta do and that’s worse. It’s kinda nuts and jarring that you can daydream about your ideal life, come to think of it as relatively basic and simple, but have it be extremely unrealistic to achieve in real life. This is following up to what I was talking about in “In A Big Country.” “Graceland” is actively searching to bridge that gap, so the song hits the road and takes a pilgrimage.
I like the lyric “But I've reason to believe we both will be received in Graceland!” The tourist haven, home of Elvis, Graceland, is like a whole religion in this line. You can be received in the warmth and worship of the community, which is really all we need.
Paul Simon goes hard. He loves that groove and I do, too. The bass in this song feels so warm and inviting, and the slide guitar bends feel like a road trip. It’s a perfect match of theme and composition.
The girl in New York City who calls herself the human trampoline has a point. Time spent apart from your soul would make you crazy. She’s the type of person who would say “Let’s get out.”
let’s get out (life without buildings, 2000.)
When you have too many thoughts you can't express coherently, throw this song on and join in.
TING TING!! LOOK AROUND!! JUST INFORMATION IN THE LEAVES, IN THE LEAVES, IN THE LEAVES, IN THE LEAVES, IN THE LEAVES! L-G-O, L-G-O, CHI-SOUND, I STILL BELIEVE IN GETTIN’ LOW I STILL BELIEVE!! THIS HISTORY OF HALF-PAST-TEN…
“Let’s Get Out’s” experimental slam poetry lyrics exude creativity, joy, anger, frustration, and worship. This is a little, free 4-minute bonding session with your soul. You can bring everything with you to this song. The excitement is infectious. Our narrator is a voice of outburst, a voice of youth. Sue Tompkins screams this free-verse like nobody’s business. It’s a confident delivery, and it makes me feel powerful.
The lyrics are open to interpretation, of course. I don’t know what the hell she’s saying. I thought that I’d be able to find out the “hidden meanings” on some forum on the internet. It was harder than I expected! GeniusLyrics dot com (an oft-visited, rarely-cited website for this essay series) doesn’t have any user-submitted guesswork. That’s probably for the best.
To me, it’s a memory half-remembered. The words convey blips of a fateful walk, or an important moment in the narrator’s life. The descriptions are either fragments of dialogue or details about the immediate location. Truthfully, I don’t think about the lyrics in this way often. It’s useless to try to be literal here. There’s no “plot” to this song.
Information is in the leaves, and we have to be present to read it. It’s really easy to fall into the trap of desiring realism in art. Something relatable, something concrete. We should, as humans, push away from that trap and embrace more expressive, impressionistic art.
If there is one song you listen to from this cycle, I sincerely hope you pick this one.
I’m really glad that [my partner] Rebecca already knew about this song when I met her. I couldn’t bear to be with someone who doesn’t know the joy of Life Without Buildings. We bond over singing this song1 at karaoke! There’s a karaoke track on YouTube! It really highlights the guitar and bass tone, which I happen to think my soul sounds like.
Do you have a music sound that you feel really embodies yourself? A particular riff or tone that instruments take on in your favorite songs that you feel close to, somehow? Leave a little comment if you want, I’d love to listen to the things you suggest!
big time sensuality (björk, 1993.)
Another song about feeling the world changing, the culture turning simply and living through it. Björk goes absolutely crazy on the vocals here, and the club banger beat is really catchy. And I especially love the little saxophone accent notes during the finale.
Scream along to this song in your car. Go ahead. It rules, it’s the best song to sing.
I don’t know my future after this weekend… heh… and I don’t want to!
There are a lot of playful and flirtatious vibes here, but her tone has always felt apocalyptic to me. “Something huge is coming and we’re both included.” Damn, Björk! Let’s find a shelter or something, jeez!
It takes courage to enjoy it. The hardcore or the gentle. Big time sensuality!
Thanks for coming back to another entry of playlist name pending. Gonna try to aim for the 3rd cycle to drop sometime at the end of February!
See you next time!
BONUS SECTION:
And this song: The Leanover by Life Without Buildings live 2000, which I also recommend checking out! That might make an appearance way later in the Playlist, but just… Life Without Buildings are too good to gatekeep!