If music be the food of love, play on

Paper Bag - Fiona Apple

It's been a while. I had a rough year, especially that last third.

I think my first experience with Fiona Apple was watching a video of Quentin Tarantino talking her ears off. She's another one of those artists I know I'll love, I just haven't gotten around to yet. Paper Bag has been on my mind quite a bit these past few months, and I think it's gonna stay there for a while longer.

Paper Bag is a jazzy, mellow story of longing. The piano and bass blend together perfectly, creating this dancy, wandering atmosphere. This is a song you play in your kitchen at 2 AM as you recover from a half hour sob session. Its jazzy, barely upbeat instrumental contrasts Fiona's sad words. You dance to this, wanting to bring some happiness to your life, but knowing you won't be letting this pain go anytime soon. Fiona's lyrics are forward and poetic. She tells it like it is: I would rather hold on to this pain than let it go because it is a reminder that there is something here.

I've been thinking about the chorus a lot today. "Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh, it kills/'Cause I know I'm a mess he don't wanna clean up/I got to fold 'cause these hands are too shaky to hold/Hunger hurts, but starving works/When it costs too much to love". I've gotten really good at hanging onto things not because there's hope, but because it's comforting to know that there was something, even if it's long gone.

Listen to the song here:

Ain't No Love In The Heart Of The City - Bobby "Blue" Bland

A genre I adore but never get around to fully immersing myself in is 70s RnB. The smooth vocals that blend so well with the backing, the pure sensuality that drips from every note. It's such a sacred era of RnB to me. I saw the new Spiderverse movie last night at the behest of my best friend Conor. Not that I needed to be forced to watch it, I think the first Spiderverse movie is one of the best superhero movies I've ever seen, but it was not at the forefront of my mind. At the end of the movie, Bobby Bland's Ain't No Love In The Heart Of The City plays in the background during a pivotal scene. I fell in love immediately.

Bobby Bland was a blues singer and a hell of a good one at that. He showcases his untouchable voice brilliantly on this track. This song is sensual and sorrowful at the same time. Really that's what RnB is at it's core. The bass and guitars blend to create a perfect groove. The strings swell during the chorus and the later verses, forcing you to pay attention to this song. Bobby's voice is powerful. He knows his craft. I can't stop listening to his voice. I can only imagine the heartbreak that caused this song.

I've realized in my ripe old age of 20 that the rubric I used to qualify movies as good in my teen years has gotten smaller and smaller. Honestly, I'll give a movie a favorable review now if the soundtrack is killer. The new Spiderverse movie is fantastic, there are a million other reasons why I love it, but the soundtrack is just perfect. It's been a hard road, but letting go of particular criteria for liking a piece of media has made me feel so much better. If I like something, I like it. I don't need to justify it.

Listen to the song here:

Table For One - Courtney Marie Andrews

Courtney Marie Andrews first came across my radar when my good friend Allie sent me her cover of America by Simon and Garfunkel. Since then, she has become one of my favorite artists. Table For One, despite its melancholic content, became a comfort during lonely walks last year. Her album Old Flowers got me through a rather rough patch. She's been there, with her soft country voice, guiding me through life. A few weeks ago I was having dinner with a friend and he mentioned knowing her. I had an aneurysm at the table.

Table For One is a sad country song about the loneliness of life on the road. Courtney's gentle guitar and slide are the perfect background to her voice. She describes the ever changing scenery and the little comfort she receives from the beautiful land she explores. One of my favorite lines is "Found peace in the redwoods/lost it twenty miles later/there is no telling which way this road bends". When you're on the road, life changes so quickly. Even when you're where you're meant to be, doing what you were destined to do, that feeling still takes over. I guess I'm just drawn to the idea of always having to leave, always being forced to move on to the next thing.

Redwoods is my favorite national park. There really is a peace there you'll never find anywhere else. Those trees really put you into perspective. As soon as you leave, you'll lose that peace, just like Courtney. Just like Detroit or Buffalo by Barbara Keith, this song has a message of departure. I know I will never be able to stay. It's just who I am. I have to move on. I think I'm destined for a life of solitude.

Listen to the song here:

I don't really know where to start this. I never really know where to start things in general, especially when they mean a great deal to me. The curse of being a writer, I guess. I'll start with this: My favorite song is Jeff Buckley's cover of Just Like a Woman. I'm sure we all know that Bob Dylan is a fantastic artist, but his best songs are covered by other people. Just Like A Woman is no different, and Jeff makes the song his own, something ethereal, untouchable, all consuming.

Jeff Buckley was the son of Tim Buckley, another brilliant musician. He never really knew his father, as he left when Jeff was quite young. He did pass down his musical skills, and I thank him for that.

I think the brilliance of Jeff is his ability to be emotionally vulnerable. That's the brilliance of a lot of my favorite artists. Yes, all artists are sensitive in some way, that's why they're artists, but Jeff is on a different plane of raw emotion. Just look at Lover, You Should've Come Over. It takes someone who is deeply in touch with their emotions to write a song like that. On Jeff's only studio album, Grace, he travels through every emotion you could imagine, dealing with death and heartbreak in a way that reaches into the back of your heart and scrapes out those guts you thought were long dead. When he sings of lost love, drug use, and death, he somehow always pinpoints the exact complex emotions behind each subject. There is nothing vague about his poetry.

Perhaps his most famous song, Hallelujah, is a Leonard Cohen cover. A simple, angelic cover of a sweeping epic. There are verses that Jeff uses in his cover that are not in Cohen's original, leading to the common misconception that Jeff wrote those verses. Those verses were performed live by Cohen, never on the studio recording, but Jeff makes them all his own. Jeff had an otherworldly ability to cover songs. He covered Cohen, Nina Simone, Edith Piaf, and Bob Dylan, just to name a few. It's incredibly difficult to produce a good cover of a song that is unique, but that is where Jeff shines. The production of Jeff's original songs is always high quality, with a full band to back his electric guitar and intoxicating voice. They thrill. They invigorate. They bring out feelings and movement you never thought you had. Jeff's covers are not bold and filling, but rather stripped to the bare bones, and in that lies their perfection. His covers are just his guitar and his voice. The guitar is simple, echoing through an imaginary chamber along with his voice. Jeff's voice rings out, bringing the focus to the lyrics. The original writers wrote perfect lyrics, and Jeff knew that. He was only responsible for making those lyrics sound as beautiful audibly as they are on the page. Instead of making the song about his own skill, he brought their original meaning to the surface.

I believe music finds me at the exact moment I need it in my life. I had known his cover of Hallelujah for years before I took a closer look at his discography. I used to take these long baths my freshman year of highschool. I would play the same songs every night, ever so quietly, as I laid there, floating in that tiny bathtub. Hallelujah would play and I would let Jeff's voice carry me away into the depths of a dark hole of depression. I don't know if I used that as an escape or a way to go deeper into my sadness. Jeff left me for a few years, until I got to college. In the past two years, as I've grown and my troubles have shifted away from the struggles of teenhood, I've found Jeff has been a constant companion. I listen to at least one of his songs every day. There is just something in his voice, this recognition and resignation to his life. I mean this in the best way possible, but he has the emotional understanding of a woman.

He only released one album, and despite its perfection, it leaves the listener wanting more. That makes his live performances even more of a treasure. It takes an insane amount of talent to make a live performance sound the same as the studio recording. It takes true genius to improve on a song during a live performance. He lets his voice run wild live. You can hear the pain in his voice. Every emotion is stretched over chords and complex vocal runs. When I listen to him live, I can't help but feel the deep ache I knew he was feeling as he sang. Each song achieves the impossible and becomes more beautiful live. If I could time travel and see any live show, first I would see Woodstock, but immediately after I would go see his show at Sin-e. It might be my favorite live album. It's the only live performance I've been able to find of Just Like A Woman, which makes it all the more special to me.

In life Jeff was a special gift, and people knew it. In death he has become a mythic figure. I pity anyone who hasn't had the pleasure of listening to his music.

Favorite Songs In No Particular Order:

Just Like A Woman

Hallelujah

Lover, You Should've Come Over

Grace

Mojo Pin

Eternal Life

The Other Woman

Forget Her

Mama, You've Been On My Mind

Live at Sin-e:

Just Like A Woman

Mojo Pin

Hallelujah

Lover, You Should've Come Over

LYSCO Live: 1, 2

Just What I Needed - The Cars

I found myself in a musical slump last week. Finals breathing down my neck, feeling like I was in limbo, smoking too many cigarettes (my ashtray was just a pile of cigarette butts). I had exhausted my usual playlists, I needed something new. So I went to an era I don't normally listen to: 80s. A lot of Echo and The Bunnymen (see earlier post as evidence) and The Cars. Just What I Needed was quite literally just what I needed. It single-handedly got me out of my musical depression and kept me from going insane.

The Cars' self titled album came out in '78, but it has a distinctly 80s feel. Just What I Needed, one of the band's most popular songs in particular feels like it belongs in a John Hughes movie. The synth, the buzzy guitar. To me, one of the main differences between 70s and 80s music is electric guitar. 70s is sharper, 80s is fuzzier. The basslines and the harmonies in the chorus just get me grooving. I can't help but dance when this song comes on. It's a simple, sweet, love song, and that's what I need right now. There's a constant mention of the singer not minding the love interest wasting their time. The singer doesn't care about the little physical elements that make this person beautiful. And they don't care about supposed flaws. They just want to be around this person. Any time with this person is hardly wasted. This song is just a bucket of fun and perfectly romantic.

I called my dad this afternoon to ask him if he knew the Cars. I usually go to him to get his opinion on different songs from his era. I'm not sure why, he only listened to what my aunt forced him to listen to, which was mostly top 40 radio. He knew of the Cars, but he didn't really listen to them. An hour ago I got a very cryptic text from my mother, who was slightly offended that I didn't ask her about The Cars. For once, she was the one who knew about my musical interests. I always thought of my mother as only listening to contemporary christian music and occasionally Willie Nelson, but only because she was forced to. She always shook her head at me and said "I don't know where you came from" when I told her I was listening to Janis Joplin or Jimi Hendrix or god forbid Led Zeppelin. In recent years I've learned that my mom listened to quite a good bit of alternative 80s music in highschool and college. Apparently we have a Smiths' cassette in our basement? My mother? and the Smiths? I guess I'll be going to her more often.

Listen to the song here:

The Killing Moon - Echo and The Bunnymen

There really is something special about 80s alternative. The whimsical instrumentals, the wailing voices. Those early goths knew what they were doing. I'll be honest, I first heard The Killing Moon in a fan edit. I've found some great songs that way. None have ever scratched that musical itch like this one.

The Killing Moon is one of the saddest songs I've ever heard, despite its rhythm. The opening guitar is enough to break my heart. Moments after those first trills, the rest of the band comes in and creates another world with its sound. Ian McCulloch's voice floats over ghostly riffs. There's a darkness in the lyrics, a deep melancholy. They haunt you, instill in you the sadness they hold so carefully. There are many way one could translate the lyrics. I like to imagine this song is about a character's tempestuous, almost unrequited relationship with a woman, but death is another common interpretation.

Ian McCulloch once said that The Killing Moon contains "the answer to the meaning of life". How cryptid. What does that even mean? Is the meaning of life death? Is it love? I say the meaning of life is loss. We are only on this earth to experience loss. For without loss, the things we hold dear would have no meaning.

Listen to the song here:

Fare Thee Well, Miss Carousel - Townes Van Zandt

Sometime in highschool I watched Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri, which features a cover of Townes Van Zandt's Buckskin Stallion Blues. Ever since then, Townes Van Zandt was on the horizon of my musical journey. I wanted to listen to him, but I never got around to it. It wasn't till Duck made me that playlist in '21 that I finally got to listen to him. Townes Van Zandt was all over that playlist, but Fare Thee Well, Miss Carousel became a fast favorite. It was one of my most listened to songs for 2022. Very few songs have the effect of stopping my breath on the opening notes. Maybe it's the emotional attachments I have to the song, but once I hear that opening bass, I know I will be spending the next five minutes lost in the music.

Upon first listen, Fare Thee Well, Miss Carousel is almost nonsensical. Each verse tells a different story, with Miss Carousel being the one binding link. Each verse is a cruel joke, an unhappy ending but a harsh lesson of life (You can have all the gold in the world but there are things you can't buy, The easy way out is the coward's way, etc) Truly, Townes' lyrical prowess is plainly seen in this song. There are a million ways to interpret this song. I know my own interpretation changes with every listen. I usually go with the "unrequited love" or "mental illness struggles" interpretations. The song is fairly simple instrumentally with Townes' voice, his guitar, a drum kit, and occasionally a harmonica. But that's all this song needs. Its steady, slightly upbeat rhythm contributes to the carnival of poetry has laid out. Townes was a brilliant songwriter, in my opinion one of the greatest of all time and I don't use that term lightly.

The chorus is what sticks out most to me in this song. It's what I clung to back in my pining days which, if we're being honest, wasn't that long ago. "Won't you come and get me when/You're sure that you don't need me then/I stand outside your window/And proudly call your name". The weight of having something you'll return to no matter what is a tiresome burden. Hanging on by a thread, knowing that at the slightest sound you'll be running. I have a new romantic opportunity that I'm extremely excited about, but I know at a moment's notice I'll be running back to that one person. That one chance I never got. I've said I'm over them several times and always ended up daydreaming again. This time is different. No more calling outside windows. We're busting down a new door.

Listen to the song here:

Young Lady You're Scaring Me - Ron Gallo

In my search for the music that I love in early highschool, I found Young Lady You're Scaring Me by Ron Gallo. This song is the inkling that began my descent into the blues and blues rock (brought on fully by The White Stripes). Ron Gallo isn't afraid of strange lyrical content and odd POVs and I love him for it.

Young Lady You're Scaring Me is one groovy, wild ride. It's bluesy and loud. It describes a reluctant relationship with a terrifying, strange woman. Its gothic nature is captivating. One minute, you think you're hearing a manic pixie dream girl the next you realize just how strange this woman is. The guitar is rough and rowdy. While the lyrics are mystical, the instrumentals are invigorating. It's the perfect combination of fun and macabre.

I usually use this paragraph to become all philosophical, but I really don't have anything to relate to this song. I just really love it. I'm also a bit tired.

Listen to the song here:

Excess In My Town - Mellah

Summer 2020: My childhood best friend moved home from England. We went down to their grandparents' lake house for a weekend. One afternoon we were sitting up in the attic, playing Senet and listening to music on their phone. A song by Mellah came on(Death, Pillage, Plunder. Listen to it here) I fell in love with it. It remains on my favorite songs playlist; I've never grown tired of it.

Fall 2021: I revisited Mellah in my search for new music. I discovered Excess In My Town and it fell into my rotation. Despite Mellah's obscurity, I put it on my playlist for when I'm in the car with other people. I like to play music everyone will like since my car will only connect to one phone at a time and it's a strenuous process to get other phones connected so I only play from my phone. It goes on fun playlists, it goes on sumemr playlists, it goes on character playlists. It fits everywhere for me.

Excess In My Town is a beachy indie song about the strains of life in our capitalist world. British artist Mellah is one of the few indie artist that I truly enjoy(It's not usually my sound if you get what I mean). He crafts a beautiful narrative about the way money is thrown around. People taking out loans for simple things. People ignoring those that need help the most. Mellah's distorted guitar and layered vocals give a jaded feeling to the song and its subject. I especially love the Saxophone bits throughout the song. It gives it a "riding the bus, watching the world" feeling. My favorite verse is the last one "I'm tryna tell you that you're working for a glass line/Childhood agrees but obligation tells you otherwise/Take all your money, buy some string and make a paper kite/Alright" There is no limit to what his working world will take from you. You aren't working for something, there is no end. The child inside of you wants freedom, but your adult responsibilities won't let you take that chance.

Another verse I love in this song is the third verse "A hungry hand looks up to compliment you on your tie/Holds out a cup and asks for help as you just walk on by/Maybe you'd see him if you didn't tie it up to tight". I was raised Christian, and although I don't subscribe to the same beliefs as my parents anymore, there are two verses that I always try to live by: "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." and "But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth: that thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly". I will always give, I will always share what I have when I can. And I don't want to do it to gain some kind of reward, I just want that person to know that someone cares, even if it's something as small as offering a ride or sharing a meal. Back in highschool I worked as a hostess in this upperclass ladies brunch cafe. On my ride home, I would sometimes see this old lady sitting at at a stoplight with a cardboard sign. Whenever I could I would give her what little tips I had earned from the waiters. I never asked her name, I probably should have. I never told anyone what I was doing. I felt like if I did I would get told off, told that she was probably buying drugs with it. I didn't care even if she was buying drugs, which I doubt she was. I just wanted her to know that someone saw her by the light and cared enough to make sure she had enough to eat that night. It's been a while since I've seen her there, even when I drove by at the times she usually would be there. I hope she made it off the street and somewhere warm.

Listen to the song here:

Stoney End - Laura Nyro

I'm baaaaack!

Last summer was one of the best I've ever lived through. It was peaceful and healing. I worked as a library page. I would sit in the back sorting cart after cart of books while listening to the Magnus Archives. Then I'd go home and play Stardew Valley while also listening to Magnus Archives. As bland and repetitive as that sounds, it was exactly what I needed. In the evenings I would sit out in my hammock in the backyard, listening to music, and sneaking cigarettes. One of the songs I listened to most was Stoney End by Laura Nyro. This song carried me through my healing.

Despite it's upbeat rhythm, Stoney End is a rather sad song. Laura sings with such passion as a woman wronged. She was has lost her religion, her chances at love, and essentially her will to live. Her voice is powerful, soulful, the perfect companion to the instrumentals. My favorite part of the song is the percussion. The drums that come in just before the chorus, cascading down through the piano and strings are perfect, reflecting the downfall of Laura's spirit. The chorus itself is a desperate plea to her mother, "Going down the Stoney End/I never wanted to go/Down the Stoney End/Mama let me start all over/Cradle me, mama, cradle me again". I think it's rather poetic, this acknowledgement of defeat but wanting to redeem yourself at the same time.

That summer I was recovering from my first year at college. It was difficult, but I learned that even in those times when you feel like you've given up, there is always a victory to be found. This song reflected my own spirit when I found it. It was exactly what I needed. I always listen to sad music, but this was the right kind of sad to get me through to my next year of college. Now, as I'm over halfway through this semester, I wonder what this next summer has in store for me. I got a great internship all the way up in New England that I'm extremely excited for. I can't wait to see what song will become my anthem to carry me through.

Listen to the song here:

I'm a Boy I'm a Girl - Johnny Thunders

I enjoy punk music. I wouldn't say I'm as into it as I was in my younger years nor do I listen to punk regularly, but I like punk music. One day last year my friend was driving me to lunch and I'm a Boy I'm a Girl by Johnny Thunders came on. It was a shocking change from the folksy music that had just been playing. My friend replayed a certain part of the song to sing it again because he loved it so much. I looked up the lyrics and found the song, even though he would send it to me later that day. Since then, it has remained in my mind and on my playlists. Especially during the past couple of days.

I'm a Boy I'm a Girl is a trans anthem, one that doesn't get the attention it deserves. The song is incredibly simple, just a guitar and Johnny's voice. Johnny's high, almost nasally voice echoes out as he expresses unapologetically the struggles of gender. It's not as loud as much of his other discography, but it's definitely in your face. Most songs about trans people from this period were either sad or fetishizing. David Bowie's Rebel Rebel broke this mold by celebrating the fluidity of gender rather than following this trend of looking down on it or sexualizing it. I'm a Boy I'm a Girl breaks even more molds by not only celebrating being transgender, but defending it as well. With lines such as "Maybe I can open your pants/but big fucking deal" and "Maybe its where your from/Or maybe your just so dumb/Well take a walk, take a walk in the sun". This character is proud of their identity, and refuses to adhere to a society that doesn't understand them.

Tennessee, my state of residence, has recently passed a bill banning gender affirming medical care for people under 18 and essentially banning drag shows. Those under 18 are required to cease their treatment by March 31st 2024. Not only will this bill do far more harm than good, it places a huge target on the backs of trans people. As a queer woman with many queer, specifically trans friends, I am terrified. I'm terrified for all of the children who now face incredibly dangerous mental health issues. I'm terrified for my friends who will have to deal with increased harassment. I'm terrified for my best friend at home in Alabama who already has to deal with unaccepting parents, and now will have to deal with more danger in their daily life. My heart breaks for every drag performer who may have to give up their art because of dangerously radical politicians. This bill is a gateway for complete bans on any gender affirming care. Under this bill, any trans person could be viewed as a public performance of drag, even though that is their normal presentation, leading to felony charges. This bill is not about protecting children, it is about continual oppression of minorities. It is about suppressing free speech. It is about slamming trans people with felony charges so they can no longer vote, removing the right's competition slowly but surely. The Tennessee government does not care about the lives and wellbeing of its citizens. If it did, it would be listening to medical authority and not the wishes of some radical former president. Just as Johnny Thunders says in his song, it doesn't matter what's in someone's pants, it's none of your fucking business. It's not your business, not my business, and certainly not the government's business.

Listen to the song here:

By My Side - Peggy Gordon

Let me preface this by saying I am not a musical theater person. I am a Shakespeare theater kid. I don't hate musicals, I just really only like the classics. You won't find me listening to any musical made after the year 2000. I think it's the culture around musicals these days. It just gives me the ick. There is one musical that I could listen to all day long: Godspell (Only the original cast recording though). It was the first musical I was ever in. Maybe it's my love of anything 60s and 70s, or maybe it's because I was raised Christian, but this musical just doesn't feel like a musical to me, specifically this song. I listen to this song quite often. It's comforting to me.

Although there is no specific characters assigned in the show besides Jesus and Judas, I like to think that Mary Magdalene or Mary of Bethany sings this song. The song begins with a simple guitar and Peggy Gordon's voice. It's a simple song of devotion. The singer knows her savior is leaving soon and doesn't want to be left alone. She will go to great lengths to follow her savior, just to talk with him. She sings of purposefully putting a pebble in her shoe just to walk with her savior. She will dare herself to walk unknown roads for her savior. If you know anything about Jesus, you know that she could not go down that road he was following, not yet at least. But still, her devotion remains. To me, this song is better description of faith, of fervent religious devotion, than any song you will find on Christian radio or in services these days.

This song, even though it's specifically religious in its context, has meaning beyond the musical. To me, this song can apply in many circumstances, many different types of love. I was named Mary after my grandmother, but I like to think i named myself Mary after Mary Magdalene or Mary of Bethany. I have such devotion instilled in me, too much at times. I will walk to the ends of the Earth for people. I give too much of myself. Still, this song lives on in me as a kind of creed.

Listen to the song here:

Training Montage - The Mountain Goats

I've been doing a lot of sad songs lately, I think it's time for something fun. The Mountain Goats' latest album Bleed Out came at the perfect time for me in 2022. All of TMG's albums are concept albums. Bleed Out is based on the ideal action movie. I'm not too big on action movies, but TMG captured the essence of those films well. I needed a boost to get me through the last few weeks of summer before I returned to school. Training Montage has to be my favorite song on the album. As much as I love Wage Wars Get Rich Die Handsome or Guys On Every Corner, Training Montage just scratches an itch for me. It's has a similar energy to This Year, a promise of survival.

Training Montage is once again, an album opener. I swear I listen to full albums, I just go through my playlists for songs and I just happen to pick openers. Training Montage is exactly what it the title implies. That moment when our hero has fallen to his lowest, the Uncle Ben moment, and the realization that something must be done. The simple guitar opening is a perfect background to Darnielle's description of this moment. Then the first chorus jumps in, and Darnielle lets out a shout of "I'm doing this for revenge!". It's perfect. To me, Darnielle is one of the greatest lyricists of our time. His voice is not technically beautiful, but his words are, and to me that matters most. The chorus always stands out as a battle cry for me: "I'm doing this for revenge/I am doing this to try and stay true/I'm doing this for the ones/We had to leave behind/I'm doing this for you/I'm doing this for you".

If this song were ever to apply to me, it would be about my family battles. I wait, I fight, I lay my heart out and face my greatest fears when I'm visiting my family in Alabama. I used to not stand up for myself, but I've learned to be confrontational. Really, as much as I stand up for myself, I stand up for my little brother. Yes, I'm doing this for revenge. Yes, I'm doing this to stay true to myself. But I'm doing this for him.

Listen to the song here:

The End Of Love - Florence + The Machine

The first album I bought on vinyl was Florence + The Machine's High As Hope. I had already listened to it a million times. It was and still is my favorite album from them. I remember laying out in my hammock on some September afternoon, taking a nap. I used to listen to albums as I fell asleep. That afternoon, I listened to High As Hope. I remember lying there, listening to The End Of Love, staring up at the birch leaves above me. The song weighed on me, I could feel the deep sorrow braided into Florence's angelic voice. Back then, I had no idea what was ahead of me, that one day I'd know the pain in her voice. I had an inkling, but I was hopeful.

The End Of Love is Florence at her best in my opinion. No, it's not bright and bold like Dog Days or Shake It Out or Choreomania, but to me, it's her more melancholic songs that really grab you. Like she says in her song No Choir "Happiness is an extremely uneventful subject". The End Of Love grabs at all your heart strings. From the string opening and the simple piano that plays throughout to Florence's straightforward, heartbreaking lyrics sang in her ethereal voice. She describes the painful ending of a love, the remnants of what could have been a beautiful relationship. She's like Dido in her grief, singing "And in a moment of joy and fury I threw myself/from the balcony like my grandmother some years before me". My favorite line in the whole song comes directly afterwards: "I've always been in love with you/could you tell it from the moment that I met you?". It's the line, but also how she sings it. While this is not Florence singing her highest or strongest notes, it's her at her most powerful. You can hear the pain in her voice. I love the biblical allusion in the bridge: "And Joshua came down from the mountain/With a tablet in his hands/Told me that he loved me, yeah/And then ghosted me again". It just wraps the song up perfectly.

That line, "I've always been in love with you/Could you tell it from the moment that I met you?", it just sinks in deep for me. I always cherished this song, even when it was just a song I listened to when I was sad and had no reason to be(depression is a wonderful thing our minds have created, no?). Now these words hurt more than ever, especially the ghosting line in the bridge. My friend gave me a tarot reading tonight. It talked about how I am so wrapped up in the same details I already know and obsessing over what I could have done differently instead of simply caring for myself. Maybe I should end it, the love I have. Maybe I'll hang on to it, just a little while longer.

Listen to the song here:

The Shrine/An Argument - Fleet Foxes

Those who know me define me by my love of two bands: Florence + The Machine and Fleet Foxes. One of those bands inevitably ends up as my top artist of the year. Usually, it's FATM, but Fleet Foxes is always a close second. To me, Robin Pecknold is just as mythic a figure as Jack White or Janis Joplin. Ever since I found them, I have been listening to them daily. I like refer to bands and albums in my own personal opinion, as I don't believe in ranking things. However, this is an object statement and I will scream it from mountaintops if I must: Helplessness Blues is one of the greatest albums of the twenty first century, if not of all time. It's an album I think everyone who is lost in this world should listen to, all you wanderers and college kids out there. Whenever I have to list my favorite albums, Helplessness is always near the top. It was one of the first albums I bought on vinyl. It has gotten me through years of mental health issues. There is always some comfort to be found in it. To me, one of the most defining tracks of the album is The Shrine/An Argument. It truly speaks to both the musical and lyrical prowess of Robin Pecknold.

The Shrine/An Argument can be divided into three separate movements. The Shrine, the opening portion of the song, is a philosophical description of a shrine. Robin sings about the hidden history of the shrine, the beauty ingrained in the structure. The intricacies of Robin's compositions aren't as evident in this section, but his lyrics stand out. This portion, though melancholic, is peaceful. The gentle, quick finger picking contrasts Robin's smooth vocals, which rise and fall like waves. Then we move into An Argument. Finger picking becomes harsh guitar strumming and pounding drums. The emotions in the lyrics come out in the instrumentals. They are powerful, reaching into you and forcing primal movements. Just as the title suggests, this section tells of an argument and the aftermath. Those moments of heartache when you're desperate for some relief. My favorite line in the whole song comes from this section: "In the ocean washing off my name from your throat". It's just so visceral, the imagery, the choice of words. In live versions Robin adds an extra verse, my personal favorite. The juxtaposition from this section to the final section is jarring. We go from loud, rushing water to still, soft reflection. The instrumental is just as simple as Robin's vocals. The song ends with a strange, chaotic woodwind section. Personally, I think it's a perfect ending to the strange, chaotic song.

I was lucky enough to see Fleet Foxes last summer. I went with my friend Kate to see them at the Caverns, a venue in TN. It was gorgeous. Settled in the mountains, surrounded by forest. We talked to some random dudes in the merch line. Heavy, dark storm clouds blew over us, just barely missing us. We caught the tail end of the storm and were covered in a gentle dusting of rain. Robin came out himself to announce delays, but promised that we would not miss out because of the rain. They had a day off the next day, so they would stay and play a few more songs. It was everything I wanted from a Fleet Foxes concert. A perfect venue, a perfect night. During the break between the main act and the encore, Robin came out and took requests. During the encore, they played The Shrine/An Argument. They played the extra verse that I love so much. It was one of my favorite memories during that summer, my summer of healing.

Listen to the song here: