On lyrics

There are two kinds of people in the world: People who listen to lyrics, and people who can’t believe there are people out there who actually listen to lyrics, ugh, how banal. Can you tell which one I am? Can you tell which one my ex-boyfriend was? (Not Obscure-Bridge-Obsession guy, different guy.)

Some lyrics seem like afterthoughts, or something obligatory you have to hang over the melody to distract from the fact that it’s essentially the same four-chord song that’s been written a thousand times before. I tend to believe that the secret to a good pop song is a catchy chorus you can scream along to; the rest of the lyrics are just something for fans to geek out over, and a space for everyone else to tune out and resume their conversation. (Have you ever really listened to the lyrics of “All You Need is Love”? They’re meaningless, just a frame for the chorus. But also, what a chorus!)

Then, of course, there are the John Darnielles and Josh Ritters. The exception and not the rule — and probably for the best. If all pop songs were nuanced, layered meditations that you needed a solid working knowledge of theology to truly understand, then there’d be no AWOLNATION… and no Mountain Goats, for that matter.

This is why I love world music so much: There are lyrics, but you don’t understand them. Best of all worlds! And if you actually do the legwork of finding a translation of the lyrics (or translating them yourself), you get to learn cool words in a new language — and maybe a little bit about the parent culture, too. Of course, the same is true of lyrics in English, which is why I listen in the first place: If you take a deeper look, there’s often meaning behind the words, and beyond the intent of the person who wrote them.

What I’ve been listening to: Guys whining over their acoustic guitars

Spotify is that one relative who knows you ride a bike, and so every present they ever get you has bikes on it. Yes, Spotify, I listened to Iron & Wine in college. I also used to climb on the roofs of buildings and light off bottlerockets. You love a thing, you grow up a little, and you still love the thing, just in a less immediate way, in the way that recognizes that even though you’re not in that place anymore, it was a step on the path that brought you here.

Until the algorithm figures out that shade of human emotional nuance, it’s going to keep suggesting songs like these:

“Honey Hold Me,” Morningsiders

Ukulele, glockenspiel, acoustic guitar, croaky vocals — in the words of my sister, “This sounds like an Apple commercial.” Also the album art is a coffee ring with a lopsided doodle of a sunrise in the middle, which really tells you all you need to know. “Gonna hold my breath until you're here / ‘Cause I can't breathe without you.” I’ve broken up with guys for saying dumb shit like that to me.

Author’s note: After I finished writing this, I deleted this song from my playlist.

“White Daisy Passing,” Rocky Votolato

This guy is the Richard Bachman to Gregory Allen Isakov’s Stephen King. But that line about “evenings on the back deck of our first apartment” is kind of a heart-wrencher.

Also, dumb story, I used to work at a pizza restaurant with a bunch of hipsters, and this cool hipster girl who also worked there said she loved Rocky Votolato, and I was like, “Omg me tooooo” but I didn’t really, so now when I listen to this song, there’s this little part of me that’s like, “Hey cool girl from Pizzaria Vesuvius whose name I can’t remember: I’VE FINALLY ARRIVED.”

“Fine Foods Market,” Tim Barry

This song is funny. If I were walking down the Lower Broadway in Nashville and heard this guy playing, I’d walk in and have a fine time.

“Avoiding Catatonic Surrender,” Tim Barry

Ahh, but he only knows how to write the one song. I dug this one a little when I was still in Jersey, because it’s about being stuck in Jersey, but… I just lose patience for songs that whine about situations with easily attainable solutions. “I left for work directly after / for a 15 hour day / made just over a hundred bucks / none of which I ever saved.” Tim Barry, minimum wage in New Jersey is $13; you could literally get a job at McDonald’s and make twice what you’re making now.

“Old Ties and Companions,” Watchhouse

Good pickin’.

“Kick Out the Windows,” Parsonsfield

When I was 25, there is a 100 percent chance I would put this song on a mix CD for a guy I liked. Now I’m slightly embarrassed that I like a song with such bald, banal lyrics about rebellion — kicking out the windows, “lead[ing] the charge, at least, if not the way,” and going kicking and screaming into that good night. Ugh, and the building drums + violin that lead to him singing about truth: “If it’s a whisper / or a battle cryyyyyyyyy”?

I wonder at the intention behind the lyrics. I doubt he’s actually writing about something specific. Maybe he’s being intentionally vague to try capture that uniquely youthful feeling of rebellion — against expectations, capital-S Society, the bogeyman of getting older, the specter of vitality wasted and dreams unrealized.

Oh, let’s be real, he just had a triumphant-sounding riff and wrote some vague song about kickin’ out the WINDOWS for 20-somethings to make out to because market research shows that’s trending. I think I hate this song now.

“Spring Wind,” Jack Johnson

THIS JACK JOHNSON SONG MAKES ME CRY.

“Daylight,” Watchhouse

Slowed-down, twangy folk. I can’t come up with anything sassy to say about Watchhouse songs; maybe they’re actually good!

“Real Peach,” Henry Jamison

I think I like this song because it reminds me of Ben Howard’s second album, which reminds me of hiking the Appalachian Trail (and is also just a good listen besides, if you’re willing to forgive some dad-rock vibes). The chorus is creepy though, and makes me not want to listen to the lyrics too closely lest I have a moment like the time I was really into this super-breathy female singer-songwriter version of “I’m on Fire” that I heard in yoga class and texted my boyfriend at the time to tell him “This song was really doin’ it to me right in yoga class today!” and then I listened to the lyrics and had to dump that boyfriend out of sheer embarrassment. (jk i broke up with him because, true story, he talked about obscure bridges too much.)

What I’ve been listening to: Trucker songs.

I’m writing a book about the time I was a truck driver, and sometimes I like to listen to trucking songs to get in the mood. Here are a few of the ones that stuck out to me:

“Give Me 40 Acres,” by the Willis Brothers

“Some guys can turn it on a dime or turn it right downtown / but I need 40 acres to turn this rig around.” A funny song about my career as a truck driver.

“That’s Truck Drivin,” by Slim Jacobs

And this one! I wish I’d known about this genre of music when I was driving. I would have felt a lot less like a failure.

“Trucker Speed,” by Fred Eaglesmith

This song is sad and slow, and I’m not a huge fan of the lyrics, but it makes me feel connected to a culture I might otherwise judge, harshly.

What I’ve been listening to: Boss female vocalists of the ’80s

Pat Benetar, “We Belong”

I tried to make the argument that the lyrics of this song are fart rebus*, but Doug protested SO strongly that I’ll walk it back. All I have to say is, THOSE DRUMS.

Juice Newton, “Angel of the Morning”

This song reminds me of listening to this song while riding in an old pickup truck on an Antarctic ice shelf… which is bragging and doesn’t tell you what this song sounds like. But honestly, this song has been out for 60 years and you probably have your own cool experiences with it. Or maybe it’s just been a guilty pleasure?

*Fart Rebus describes lyrics that don’t make a lick of sense — “expert texpert / chocking smoker / don’t you know the joker laughs at you,” that kind of thing. The phrase is borrowed from some hilarious graffiti Doug and I found on a boulder near a climbing wall outside Bowman Lake, California.

What I’ve been listening to: Willie Nelson edition

I never wanted to be one of those old people who only listens to the music of their youth, so every morning I wrestle with my Spotify algorithm and try to actively seek out new music. This… is harder than it should be. For an app that apparently has access to all the music in the entire world, Spotify sure plays a lot of Josh Ritter! Seriously, why isn’t there a “Random” button on that thing?

When I got off The Ice this year, I bought Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die by Willie Nelson in a used bookstore in Christchurch, New Zealand. He has a two-page section where he lists “good pickers,” and I figured that was as good a place as any to discover new music. I mean, if these musicians have the Willie Nelson stamp of approval, they must be good, right? Here, now, are a few pithy observations about some of ol’ Bill Nelson’s recommendations:

“West Virginia My Home,” by Hazel Dickins

They don’t make songs like this anymore… I mean, unless they’re about California. Mourning, yearning, real emotion about a very beautiful state most people treat like a joke where the punchline is “methamphetamine.”

“It Wasn’t God Who Made Honky Tonk Angels,” by Kitty Wells

Reedy vocals, and the song moves at the pace of a walking horse, and it’s syrupy, dusty, and sad.

“One’s On the Way,” by Loretta Lynn

A funny song, without a trace of resentment or cynicism, about the flaws of first-world feminism.

“Smoke! Smoke! Smoke!” by Tex Williams

I gotta admit, this song made me laugh. If this song came on at a club, I would tell everyone in my life to go to that club.

“Jam Man,” by Chet Atkins

The only song in this little essay that I’m not embarrassed to show other people. Some musicians know how to make their instruments talk, and some know how to make them sing. Chet Atkins knows how to make a guitar tell a story.