Favorites Songs of the '00s: #4 & #5

What would we do without Dan Bejar? Well for starters, all of The New Pornographers' albums would lack a much needed ounce of quirk. Admittedly, the songs I've singled out here--"Testament to Youth in Verse" and "Execution Day"--made zero sense to me in 10th grade, even souring the listening experience a bit, but I now think of them as indispensable.




The New Pornographers -- "Testament to Youth in Verse" -- Electric Version (2003)

The appeal of "Testament to Youth in Verse" is clear enough: the final two minutes are a charming dose of intricately-stacked, slightly syncopated harmonies. It's probably the coolest anthem this side of "Sing Me Spanish Techno," but with more replay value.





The New Pornographers -- "Execution Day" -- Mass Romantic (2000)

"Execution Day," for it's own part, is a weird new-wave/post-punk/power pop hybrid that kills by way of contrast. Once again, it's the second half that really brings this one home, and it wouldn't be as effective if the outburst was telegraphed in any way. Belt this one out and I swear it will brighten your day.

(To see the previous "favorite song" entry, click here.)

Favorite Songs of the '00s, #3: "You, Yes You," Beauty Pill

Allow me to preface this post with a clarification: “You, Yes You” was released in 2003, not 2009. In other words, before the “text-message-heard-‘round-the-world” shock of the summer came into our respective inboxes, this song still had a wry lick of humor to it rather than coincidental sincerity. Certainly, the loss of Michael Jackson has more substantive disappointments attached to it than something as trivial as a line in a song, but I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a bit saddened the edge is now potentially lost.

In reality, “Michael Jackson” was pretty much the most overplayed punch line in the book before he died. Yet, the status quo dictates that any dig at a man whom everyone acknowledges was both strange and misunderstood is no longer acceptable. Untimely tragedy, for better or worse, can do that whenever adulated art and/or celebrity enter the equation.

And maybe it’s neither Chad Clark’s (who wrote it) nor my place to judge when Jackson’s youthful spirit truly “died,” but I think we can still be forthcoming about the quirks of the star’s adult life: It may be unacceptable to stomp upon Michael Jackson’s grave, but I’d like to believe we can still dance on it a bit.

To that end, and as any luck would have it, the sentiment should still be intact. And that’s really what this one has going for it—pure charm. I’ll vouch for the warped strings at the end, and Clark’s distinctive coo, but if you aren’t smiling at some point during the song then this post has pretty much been in vain.

(To see the previous "favorite song" entry, click here.)

Favorite Songs of the '00s, #2: "Bolan Muppets," Glissandro 70

By the look of it, Glissandro 70 is one of those projects that seems more of a one-off than anything else, despite a fair amount of evidence to support the contrary. The facts: the Canadian duo of Craig Dunsmuir and Sandro Perri released a lovely eponymous debut in 2006, played about 11 shows in Toronto (six in 2008), and have remained pretty much dormant thereafter. They're still on a label, and Sandro Perri has a questionably active blog, but no one seems in any rush to make a go at the crown.

The song featured here--Bolan Muppets--is one of five strong tracks on Glissandro 70 (there's only five on the LP, mind you), and though I feel it stands alone, it probably works best in context of the other pieces (oh well). Like the rest of the debut, the song is as heavily indebted to minimalism as it is to post-rock; it just sort of floats from A to B without any larger structural repetitions, making the most of fewer ideas. I've worn the song out to the point where the late bassline (3:12) doesn't hit the spot as well as it did in '06, but I wish you luck with it.

What I like best about the piece, and why it's included here, is it's music that requires a process. Perhaps I lend too much credit to methodical overlays than I should, but there is a supremely satisfying feeling when instruments 1 through 7 suddenly interlock unexpectedly, and then melt away into something entirely different. It's the same principle that guides most great DFA cuts, though obviously operating under its own set of intentions. The whole "music as process" bit is also particularly difficult to do right, so pay mind where mind is due.

(To see the previous "favorite song" entry, click here.)

Favorite Songs of the '00s, #1: "Disaster," The Besnard Lakes

2010 is upon us.

As I ease into a third decade, I feel it's appropriate time to document the music that has made an impression on me over the past 10 years. The great lie of all this, of course, is that "favorites" are constantly in flux and what I liked in 2003 (when I started to listen to music in earnest) has now warped beyond recognition. Likewise, I wasn't listening to The Argument or even Kid A in the early aughts, so there's definitely an element of retroactive revision attached to this process.

I haven't let taste off the hook entirely though. That is, a significant chunk of this music is not what I would label "the best music of the decade"--it's rather a mixture of songs that continues to affect me despite heavy wear-and-tear. The end result, I think, is a list that might seem obvious to some, but an honest one at that, even to the point of petty, irrational discomfort.

So with those qualifications in mind...

Come to think of it, The Besnard Lakes Are the Dark Horse was an incredibly apt title for this album. The Canadian sextet--initially formed by spouses Jace Lasek and Olga Goreas in 2003--released this charming album on Jagjaguwar in 2007 and have remained pretty quiet ever since. Like other notable Canadian indie-rock bands of the '00s (Arcade Fire, Broken Social Scene, et al), there's a grandiose feel to the work, due in large part to the amalgamation of orchestration and healthy portions of guitar reverb, but the band still manages to grind out their own aesthetic between the notes.

Album opener "Disaster," in particular, epitomizes the balance of grace and grit that the band strikes so well. Between the opening pizzicatos and mid-song glissandos, Nicole Lezee's gorgeous string arrangements play a large role here, working as a wonderful timbral and melodic counterpoint to the shoegazy guitars. Additional touches like the repeated flute phrase and interlocking vocals highlight what basically amounts to an incredibly delicate song that soars in spite of itself. Ultimately, the first two minutes of the song and the latter three stand alone as great ideas; the fact that they blend together so organically, building from a bedroom coo into a feverish swell is what keeps me coming back to this one.