So after this very post, I’m going to hunker down (read: go to work, go out with friends, and not hunker down in any literal sense) and think up my end of year stuff for this site. I usually try to do best concerts, best discoveries that were released pre-2009, and then the best albums of the year. Sometimes I make a “most disappointing albums of the year” list, but really, shit talking on here just doesn’t seem all that necessary. I’ll try to finish it by the 31st, but don’t hold your breath or synchronize your watches or anything
When I have bad days, these days, it’s not because things are happening specifically to me. It’s that things are happening at my job which I can’t make sense of. If there’s one skill I might never master, which will make my current job twice as difficult as it should be, that skill is being able to leave work at work. There’s too much to even report here, but here’s one thing that I still can’t believe happened five days ago. Here are four bad day songs. You can guess how my day went.
1. I tried to rise, I did.
There was a post on Said The Gramophone a whiles back about how Greetings From Asbury Park was a cover to cover brilliant album and a much more assuming debut for Bruce Springsteen than people give it credit for. The exception, this post argued, was The Angel, which it claimed was melodramatic tripe. It is. This song is unwanted meat reflecting moonlight from a landfill. It is that or it is the five sad bites of the burger left on the rumble strips of the turnpike, so sad because no animal will risk the highway to finish it off, so sad because it cannot rot into soil if there’s pavement in the way. If you were food, your sole purpose to be eaten, and you can’t even manage that, you might feel a little melodramatic too.
The words Springsteen is singing are hastily pasted together, but I love the way he drags his voice behind him like a security blanket or a parole officer. I love that, and I love that the song doesn’t feel claustrophobic or stuffed to the ceiling. It’s just that voice, piano, and a flatlining violin.
2. 12 Missed Calls
Royal City are a wonderful band who could have given me 30 different songs for this post. I’m choosing this one because you can tell it is angry with itself.
3. Pour that one out; don’t drink it.
This one’s on here because it’s about the best form follow function song I can think of for days when you just feel miscommunicated. This song is shouting at you and knows you will not understand it. That’s why it put the static and the drums where it did.
4. Pins and Pins and Pins and Needles
This one’s an insult that slices right through you. It’s an intelligent, reasonable person saying the most calculated mean thing with no noticeable spit nor stutter. The fact that it was delivered with such dispassionate poise sinks it twice as deep; let’s you know this was premeditated. “If now I love the human race, it’s because we wrote amazing grace.” This song sharpens a butter knife until it can cut you apart, inch by inch.