Required Listening

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Today, I have the privilege of contributing to Randy Murray’s Required Listening series.

Required Listening discusses great albums you may be missing from your favorite genre. The series has featured wonderful pieces by writers like Patrick Rhone and Penny Mattern, and I’m honored to be featured alongside them.

Randy himself is a professional business writer, and his site, First Today, Then Tomorrow, is one of my favorite blogs. My sincerest thanks to him for this opportunity.

Be sure to click over and check out today’s post, and then stay for Randy’s inspiring thoughts on writing, productivity, and life!

You can read my Required Listening piece here, at First Today, Then Tomorrow.

Walking to Music

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It was an unbelievable 54 degrees today with nary a cloud in the sky, so I decided to go for a walk.

It was a respectable walk, something in the vicinity of 2.2 miles with moderately challenging terrain. I decided to bring my iPhone so I could listen to the new Gotye album, which is amazing. I’ll probably be writing about it shortly, so you might as well buy it now.

Meanwhile, on the last leg of my walk, it occurred to me that I hadn’t really thought about anything but the music. It brought to mind the debate between exercising with music or without. Suppose you’re going for a run, for example. I can see how the right music could pump you up and potentially lead to a stronger, more intense workout. But on the other hand, your mind could remain focused on the song, as I experienced today, and fail to drift aimlessly from thought to thought.

Activities like walking or running are great opportunities to let our minds relax and wander freely. You can let your worries go for a little while and surrender to the endorphins. It’s a good chance to decompress, think, or not think at all. Who knows where that mental wandering might lead? If I hadn’t been focused on the awesomeness of Gotye, maybe my mind would have come across a great idea for an article, or some other epiphany.

I can’t say which is better. That half-hour walk might have been boring without my headphones, or I might have come up with a new idea, or maybe I’d just have enjoyed the day a little bit more.

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"Blue in the broad light of day"

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Yesterday, I called The Long Winters the band you need to know. Today, I’ll discuss the album I’d recommend starting with. Although I love all of The Long Winters’ records, this was the first one I heard. If you hate The Long Winters, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled program tomorrow. Also, shame on you.

The Long Winters’ 2006 effort, Putting the Days to Bed, sat quietly on my iPod for almost four years before it became one of my most treasured albums. It encompasses everything that makes the band — and music in general — such a joy to listen to: catchy melodies, honest lyrics, and ultimately, a sense that no matter what you’re going through, everything is going to be OK.  

With eleven tracks totaling just 38 minutes, Putting the Days to Bed is a concise, yet highly memorable, indie rock record. The longest song is barely over four minutes, but rest assured, the album’s brevity belies the depth found within every song. A paragon of its genre, Putting the Days to Bed makes a brilliant addition to any music collection.

John Roderick’s lyrical prowess sits atop a long list of reasons why I love The Long Winters. As I took notes for this article during what must have been my hundredth listen, I found myself wanting to write down almost every line. It’s not just the words themselves that are great, but also the way they are delivered. Putting the Days to Bed is full of wonderful lines begging to be sung at full volume.  

Like me, I’m willing to bet you won’t be able to decide on a favorite. It might be the horn-backed triumph of “Teaspoon” (I know I wasn’t made to play on a team), or the guarded cries of “Hindsight” (I’m bailing water and bailing water because I like the shape of the boat).

Other days, you might prefer the cynicism of “Rich Wife” (Now tell me, is your high horse getting a little hard to ride?), or the quiet longing of “Seven” (Distance helps me only so much…).

Personally, I always come back to the upbeat vulnerability of “Ultimatum” (I hope I can keep seeing you just as long as you don’t say you’re falling in love). I could pour over each song line by line, but that’s a journey best taken on your own. We’ll compare notes when you’re ready.  

You could argue that Putting the Days to Bed is an exercise in heartbreak, and in a way, you’d be correct. None of the romances here seem destined to succeed. In fact, many are already a thing of the past. But, if all you had was the music, the singer’s plight would probably go unnoticed. Despite its lyrics, this album is soaring, infectious, and will have you rocking out within seconds of pushing PLAY. That’s what makes Putting the Days to Bed such a wonderful paradox. These are celebratory songs about broken hearts, and the result is a cathartic journey designed to lead us out of dark places. 

I often find myself thinking no matter how tough life gets, it’s hard to feel down as long as music exists. Putting the Days to Bed may feature the anguished lover, but the music reminds us not to forget just how incredible life is, heartbreak and all. There may be pain in the moment, but this is an album that encourages us to sing and dance our way through both the best and worst of times. It tells us to look at the big picture and find the comfort and beauty that resides there. What seems to be an exercise in heartbreak, then, is really a lesson in perspective. That’s what makes Putting the Days to Bed required listening. It shows us that, as painful as love can be, it’s a beautiful thing all the same.  

You can buy Putting the Days to Bed on iTunes.

The Band You Need to Know

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Note: I’d been meaning to write this post for a few days, but it was Randy Murray’s Writing Assignment for January 13, 2012 that helped me get it done. Thanks, Randy!

Every once in a while, a band comes along and becomes the object of my obsession. Suddenly, their music fills my life and changes it for the better. I devour the entire discography, pour over their lyrics, and wake up with their songs in my head. This music is just… incredible.

The Long Winters are one of those bands.

Ironically, no article has given me writer’s block like this one. I adore this band, but I almost can’t articulate why. It’s hard not to resort to gushing about each and every song. This is music that keeps me up at night because I’d rather keep listening than go to sleep.

There are many things that make The Long Winters great, but for your sake, I’ll only pick three.

First, The Long Winters succeed at walking a very fine line, and that is being accessible without sacrificing depth. Rest assured, these are radio-friendly songs. Most fall in the three- or four-minute range, and they are catchy. But, that doesn’t make the band another source of shallow pop music. Rather, each song is a gem: small enough to fit in your pocket, but precious enough to take with you wherever you go.

Second, the lyrics. Lyrics are very important to some people, to the point where they can’t enjoy music without them. I’m happy to say that whether you’re a lyrics person or not, The Long Winters will speak to you. John Roderick is a master songwriter, and his lines are written for you, the listener. Somehow, he knows what you’ve been through. He knows what you’re feeling, and he’s felt the same way. That’s the only explanation for the honesty — the humanity — behind John’s words.

Finally, comfort. The Long Winters have guided me through heartbreak, lifted me out of depression, and made me realize that even in darkness, life remains amazing.

I’m reminded of a favorite quote by Aldous Huxley:

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.

The Long Winters prove this fact. Over the course of their two-and-a-half-hour discography, you will discover many moments of musical catharsis. This is music that will have you singing along at the top of your lungs, whether it’s with a smile on your face or tears in your eyes.

I’m not going to tell you my favorite songs for two reasons. One, The Long Winters’ albums stand strong in their entirety. These are records that can and should be enjoyed from start to finish, and not needing to hit SKIP is a hallmark of any great band. Two, my favorite songs may not be your favorite songs. Music speaks to us in ways too diverse to mention, and only you can figure out what songs make you sing the loudest.

Truly, there’s no better time to become a fan of The Long Winters. Their last album, Putting the Days to Bed, was released in 2006, and John Roderick seems to be hinting that we might finally see its long-awaited follow-up this year. Furthermore, you can get The Long Winters’ entire discography on iTunes for less than forty bucks. A small investment for a lifetime of enjoyment.

I can’t guarantee you’ll love The Long Winters like I do, but I can promise you have nothing to lose. Your ears and heart, however, have everything to gain.

Journey to Love

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I’ve heard that the reason Space Mountain is such an effective roller coaster is because it’s in the dark. Since you can’t see the track, your body can’t prepare for the twists and turns, which is what makes it so thrilling.

Of course, the more you go on the ride, the easier it is to anticipate each moment. Every left, right, up, and down.

More and more, this progression from unknown to familiar reflects my experience with music, particularly when it comes to digesting records I’ve never heard before.

Listening to a new album for the first time is hard work — especially if you listen from start to finish. Like your first ride on Space Mountain, every moment is unexpected. Every note is foreign. Every lyric is unfamiliar.

Such a listening experience is overwhelming, and it’s easy to dismiss things we don’t understand because of that pesky fear of the unknown.

Maybe the first song comes on, and you think it’s pretty good. And then the second track comes on, and that one’s OK… But then there’s another track. And another, and another, and another, and suddenly you have no idea what’s going on.

You try to pay attention, but eventually the music wears you out. Twelve tracks of strange music is a lot to take in. It taxes your brain. You can’t get your bearings. Saxophones come out of nowhere. The lyrics don’t make any sense. That bridge is unbearable. The music assaults your ears, and you’re not enjoying yourself at all. It’s exhausting.

Maybe you don’t even make it all the way through the album. Maybe you decide never to listen to it again. Maybe it’s too much work.

But, as is often the case, hard work can pay off.

“When I was 15 years old, I used to hang out at a local record store. And there was this guy who worked there who thought he knew what I liked, and he handed me this album one day, and it was John Coltrane. So I took it home, and I put it on the machine. And I hated it. I mean, I really hated it. I just didn’t get it. So, I played it again. I played it again… and I played it again… and then I just couldn’t stop playing it.” - Mr. Holland’s Opus

If you have the patience to listen — to make that journey — again, it’ll be just a little bit easier. You’ll start to remember things. Little moments. Everything will seem a bit more familiar. “Oh yeah, this is the song that goes do do do dodo dooo… That’s actually kind of nice.”

I love this process. You’re literally developing a rapport with the music. You’re getting to know one another. You can see and feel the individual moments coming now. You anticipate their arrival. You begin to see how they all fit together. Lyrics that made no sense become a little clearer. They start to speak to you. What used to be a sneak attack becomes your favorite part.

And with each repeated listen, your relationship with each song gets stronger. You start to see the big picture. Until eventually you know every note and every word of every song, forwards and backwards.

It’s funny how our tastes change over time. We might hear a song one day and think it’s horrible, only to hear that same song weeks or years later and discover it perfectly encapsulates everything about our lives life right now. It reflects our every emotion, as if the singer has been in our exact situation and knows all our fears, doubts, joys, and triumphs. The music becomes a source of tremendous comfort, loyal and always there when you need it. It’s like a stranger who ends up becoming your best friend.

That’s when an album — which previously had nothing to do with you — becomes one of your most precious treasures.

The Long Winters

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It’s 49 degrees here at one o’clock in the morning, and I’m sitting in my car outside my house because I don’t want to stop listening to this album.

Something like four years ago, one of my good college friends gave me an album by a band called The Long Winters. I never really got around to listening to it. It stayed on my iPod for a long time and even survived the great iTunes purge, but otherwise, I hardly gave it a second thought.

As fate would have it, here in the present day, Merlin Mann, one of my Internet heroes, has a new podcast with John Roderick, who just happens to be the frontman of The Long Winters, which just happens to be the band whose album my friend gave me four years ago. When I found myself enjoying what this John Roderick character had to say, I thought it might be worthwhile to finally check out his band. Fortunately, their latest album was already in my iTunes library, where it had been patiently waiting for the past four years.

Let me point out that two of my favorite bands of all time put out new records this week, and yet neither have garnered the emotional response I’ve experienced because of this five year old album by The Long Winters. It’s remarkable.

Sometimes, a piece of music changes your life in an instant, whether it’s your first or hundredth listen. It hits you at exactly the right moment, when your surroundings, your mood, your thoughts, and everything in life is captured perfectly within the song. It creates one of those sensory memories that gets burned into your brain and transports you back to that moment whenever you hear that song again. You’re able to remember exactly how you were feeling, what you were thinking, and how crisp the autumn air smelled as you drove around on empty midnight roads with the windows down, listening to the music. It’s a feeling I can only describe as euphoric.

It’s amazing how one moment can affect you so profoundly, even four years later. Had I not received this particular album from my friend way back when, I might have still discovered the band, but I also might have bought a different album, or I might have pressed play at a different moment, one devoid of the unique circumstances contributing to this emotional experience.

This music is exactly what I need in this moment. It’s the perfect soundtrack to all of my present hopes and fears. Maybe it’s the intoxicating 49 degree air, or the romantic after-midnight hour talking, but this perfect storm of music, mood, and season have filled me with an incredible sense of joy. I don’t even want to get out of my car for fear of stopping the music and breaking the spell.

I know when I wake up tomorrow morning, it’ll be just another Monday. This comforting euphoria will be gone, but at least I’ll still have this album. All the memories associated with its discovery here, in this moment, will last for years to come, and I look forward to reliving that moment over the course of many future listens.

From Bleeps to Beats

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I don’t do much video gaming anymore. I used to when I was younger. I’d spend hours and hours exploring virtual worlds, battling evil, and living lives far more exciting than my own. Those were the days.

I miss it a great deal from time to time. Nowadays, video games don’t hold my attention like they used to. Even when I get excited and buy a new one, which is an increasingly rare occurrence, I never end up playing it for very long. I just don’t become immersed in the game’s universe like I once did.

Part of me thinks that games today are just “too good”, with their flawless graphics and amazing technical specifications. It’s like hearing a record that’s overproduced, or a movie that’s been redone and repackaged ad nauseum. Too shiny, too slick. No charm, no heart.

Part of the magic of those old video games was their flawed nature. Deformed character sprites, 8-bit musical scores, sans voice acting. Sigh.

At any rate, I stumbled upon this internet gem: a YouTube user named Garudoh has miraculously compiled a series of videos called, “From Bleeps to Beats: The Music of Video Games”, of which there are over 500 entries. I’m not ashamed to admit I was up until the wee hours of the morning listening to all the old soundtracks from my favorite games. They still hold up.

Some of my favorites:

So. Good. And so impressive for games that are about fifteen years old. I get so much joy from listening to these.

Bask in the nostalgic auditory bliss of my childhood!