Diary of an iPod on Shuffle

Ambient music defined:

"Ambient music is a loosely defined musical genre that incorporates elements of a number of different styles - including jazz, electronic music, new age, rock and roll, modern classical music, reggae, traditional, world and even noise." (click for a detailed description.)

Like so many other things in life, when I said "ambient", this is not what I meant. So, onto the ambient rock/sleeper pop/borderline playlist.

"Adelaide" by Old 97's
"All They Ever Do Is Talk" by Earlimart
"Ashes" by Embrace
"Cleareyed" by Glen Phillips
"Drop In The Ocean" by Michelle Branch
"Edge Of The Ocean" by Ivy
"Fallen Angel" by Midge Ure
"Lily Dreams On" by Cotton Mather
"Long Time Coming" by Delays
"Out to Get You" by James
"Sometimes (Lester Piggott)" by James
"Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service

I suppose it's relevant that, when I put a playlist together, I tend to favor new additions to my collection over old favorites, and I prefer shorter playlists to long ones.

I considered leaving it at this, but I think, since I did such a stellar (read: nonexistent) job of describing what, exactly, I mean by ambient rock/sleeper pop, a more in-depth dicussion is in order. Tomorrow. Tuesday. Screw it. Unless anyone really wants to know.

Classification is a natural impulse.

Classification. Categorization. Etc. Assigning labels is instinctive, whether we're aware of the process or not.

Yesterday, I listened to some of my newer songs and some old favorites. It started in the morning, when I was shuffling my way to the mall, with "Long Time Coming" by Delays. When it came on, I thought, "borderline ambient".

Thus began the journey through my heretofore unexplored semi-subconscious classification process. There is a cetain type of music that I tend to describe as "ambient". A subset of that is "sleeper pop". Whether I coined these terms or shamelessly (subconsciously?) lifted them, I'm sure we'll never know.

Stay tuned as I document the assembly of my ambient/sleeper pop playlist, and feel free to suggest songs that aren't on my list.

Today, I abandoned shuffle to play a song.

"Political Science", originally by Randy Newman, as performed by Glen Phillips.

It lodged itself in my head this morning and would not leave. I sang it in the shower. I sang it in the car. I sang it at the gas station. I sang it at work. I sang along with Randy Newman when I listened to the preview in the Sony Connect store. I sang along with Glen Phillips on my iPod.

I love this song. Quirky makes me happy.

Lyrics courtesy of randynewman.com:

No one likes us-I don't know why
We may not be perfect, but heaven knows we try
But all around, even our old friends put us down
Let's drop the big one and see what happens

We give them money-but are they grateful?
No, they're spiteful and they're hateful
They don't respect us-so let's surprise them
We'll drop the big one and pulverize them

Asia's crowded and Europe's too old
Africa is far too hot
And Canada's too cold
And South America stole our name
Let's drop the big one
There'll be no one left to blame us

We'll save Australia
Don't wanna hurt no kangaroo
We'll build an All American amusement park there
They got surfin', too

Boom goes London and boom Paree
More room for you and more room for me
And every city the whole world round
Will just be another American town
Oh, how peaceful it will be
We'll set everybody free
You'll wear a Japanese kimono
And there'll be Italian shoes for me

They all hate us anyhow
So let's drop the big one now
Let's drop the big one now

[punctuation and formatting left intact]

By Randy Newman (the original.)
By Glen Phillips (free!)
By Glen Phillips

If you like this, try Drive By (free here) and Fred Meyers (free here) by Glen Phillips. All three songs are available on one album here. If you enjoy these songs, please consider downloading some more Glen Phillips songs by using the links to your right to get some free Sony Connect codes! You can also download his songs on iTunes and purchase his albums on Amazon.com.

Enjoy!

Television can be maddening.

Hearing a great song on TV can lead to years of frustration. Don't believe me? Just a few weeks ago I completed a (sporadic) five year search for the song "Closer to Myself" by Kendall Payne. Incidentally, having completed the chase, I didn't find that I actually needed the song.

Thankfully, some television shows manage to both incorporate good music and make it accessible. So, thank you, Rob Thomas (the other Rob Thomas) for this:

"Butterflies" by David Garza
"Gold Rush" by Kissinger
"Pata Pata" by Miriam Makeba
"Veronica" by Elvis Costello
"Momentary Thing" by Something Happens
"Just Another" by Pete Yorn
"Lily Dreams On" by Cotton Mather
"Edge Of The Ocean" by Ivy
"The Air That I Breathe" by The Hollies

There's something for everyone in this batch: loose, semi-folk singer-songwriter pop (try "Butterflies", "Just Another", or "Lily Dreams On"); mellow, ethereal, sleeper pop (try "Edge Of The Ocean" or "Lilly Dreams On"); 80's throwback pop (try "Gold Rush") and rock (try "Momentary Thing"); classics ("Veronica" and "The Air That I Breathe"); and one incredibly infectious South African dance ("Pata Pata" - if you can get it out of your head, you're a stronger person than me).

It's a great list, but if I had to recommend just a few, I think "Veronica", "Just Another", and "Lily Dreams On" are standouts. Listen for similarities between "Lily Dreams On" and the backing vocals in The Beatles' "Across The Universe". If, like me, you already have "Veronica" and "The Air That I Breathe", "Butterflies" and "Edge Of The Ocean" are also great choices.

If you're just killing time, head over to the iTunes music store and listen to some of the other versions of "Pata Pata" - they're all different, and they're all extraordinarily catchy!

Enjoy!

I'm on a search for a simpler life.

I wouldn't call it a diligent search. It's really more of a yearning.

And this is relevant why?

Every day is the same. Wake. Rise. Plug in. Laptop, cell phone, iPod... Entire days pass this way. Sure, there's other stuff in there. Work. Errands. Et al. But it doesn't feel genuine. Or healthy.

There's a not-so-subtle irony to feeling chained down by your portable electronics. Sure, I get the benefit of being able to take calls and do my work anywhere... but along with that comes the implied obligation to take calls and do my work everywhere! And what's missing is grass and sun and warmth. There are too many screens and buttons in my life and not enough walks in the park.

Enter the iPod.

It's not another anchor; it's liberation! It's a portable electronic device that comes without obligation. It gives without demanding anything in return. I could burst into song.

So, whether this is just spring fever or a budding dissatisfaction with life in this technical age, on the next warm day, you'll find me - and my iPod - at the park, listening to:

Better Than Ezra - Desperately Wanting
Toad The Wet Sprocket - I Will Not Take These Things For Granted
Guster - What You Wish For
The Hollies - Carrie Anne
Keane - Bend and Break
Midge Ure - Breathe
Letters To Cleo - Anchor
Weezer - Perfect Situation
The Beatles - And Your Bird Can Sing

"Songbird". Rumours. Fleetwood Mac. Here.

I first heard the song in 1998. I was 20. It was 21. That was when I first became part of a band.

Opportunities for bands in this area have remained largely unchanged since then, unless you happen to be a part of the screamer-rock underground. Apparently, there's a market for that around here. There's also the Northampton indie folk-rock scene, which I find largely mysterious and impenetrable.

(However, if you're into that, you might be interested in knowing that, bizarrely, we bought one of our cars from The Weepies on the eve of their departure for California. What's even more interesting is the way I figured that out. For what it's worth, they were both very nice, and the car is still running great.)

Anyway, for the rest of us it's most often a "play covers or don't play at all" situation. Sure, it can be fun, but ultimately, it's not very rewarding. That's not the point, though. Back to 1998. Internet access was becoming quite common, but services like iTunes were still years off.

We were, for the most part, broke college students. Which means that we did not head out to Besy Buy every time there was a new song to learn. Instead, we looked up the lyrics online. (The process of learning the music is a slightly longer and less relevant story that I won't bother with here.)

I'd estimate that we've looked up the words to "Songbird" online about six times since 1998. Old habits die hard, I guess... or maybe I'm just lazy. Even though we have the album now, I never transcribe the words myself.

When "Songbird" came up on the shuffle the other day, I hadn't heard it in a while, and it managed to suprise me. Every set of lyrics I've ever cut and pasted from the internet has contained the following mistake:

And I wish you all the love in the world.
But most of all... I wish it for myself.

That lyric has always bothered me a bit, in quite the same way that my guitarist gets freaked out when I mess with a chord by not playing the root note. Especially since the last time we looked up the words, it was for a funeral. The words are still there, but the sentiment's changed.

Of course, the lyrics, quite audibly, are:

And I wish you all the love in the world.
But most of all... I wish it FROM myself.

Which is something I might have known had I not been too lazy to transcribe the lyrics myself. Still, file it under "how is it possible that I never noticed this before?" It was really a nice surprise. Also, it was just good to hear the song. It's played in passing around the house enough that I never need to seek out the CD, (in fact, I never even heard the original version until a few years ago) so I was surprised by how much I enjoyed listening to it.

I should note that, while writing this, I was able to find many, many, many lyrics sites that offer the correct lyrics. It figures. I have the printouts to prove that the bad versions are out there, though. I'm glad that lyrics sites are getting better, though hopefully, my days of relying on them are over. Still, I've just wasted a lot of words documenting a problem that no longer exists. Want the lyrics to "Songbird"? LyricsFreak is good, although some of my favorite artists are missing from their collection.

Our local Glen Phillips concert was cancelled.

I'll admit, I don't like driving to events. Distances, I mean. But I will. For Glen. And a select few. Generally, I much prefer to see shows close to home. Especially someone like Glen, who usually plays at the Iron Horse. We were unexpectedly first in line at his last show there. I honestly thought the line would start earlier.

Anyway, the Iron Horse. Cancelled. The next closest show is at the Somerville Theater. It's a ticketed venue. I didn't know that at first. Of course, all the great seats are already gone. For now, we'll look into the other regional shows, but what I'd really love is to get a cheap flight and catch him in Chicago.

New date. The Iron Horse. June. Happiness.

Yeah. I remember when my life was less cluttered.

Anyway, The Hollies. Tonight, we shuffled to "The Air That I Breathe"... and determined that it's a Radiohead song. Go figure.

File this one under "how is it possible that I never noticed this before?"

But I wouldn't really call The Hollies a precursor to Radiohead any more than I'd call Petula Clark a harbinger of Letters to Cleo. It got me thinking, though, about what a mess The Hollies' greatest hits really is. It spans eight years, from "Bus Stop" to "Long Cool Woman (In a Black Dress)". Funny, I would have thought there were eons between the two.

Speaking of "Bus Stop", did you know that it's a Beatles song? I'm seeing a pattern here.

Check out The Hollies' Greatest Hits (Remastered) here.

(If you want to buy "The Air That I Breathe", you'll have to go here.)

This is all available at the Sony Connect store as well. I recommend "Carrie Anne", "The Air That I Breathe", and "Bus Stop". Pure pop plus a little pre-Radiohead.

Go. Download. Be Happy.

Am I embarrassed to be one of the masses?

I'm pretty sure iPods used to be cool. You know, back before everyone and their grandmother had one. Before you could get one for free (or not) by completing an offer and referring ten of your closest friends. Before you could buy your ipod a fuzzy pink suit with white leather boots or a halloween costume. Yeah. Sometimes I wonder if the iPod is a collaboration between Steve Jobs and the creator of the pet rock.

So how did I get here? Easy. I'm half techno-geek. What took me so long? I'm also endlessly practical. There's almost never a time when I'm not near some kind of device that plays music, so why would I need an mp3 player? (In case you were wondering, the other half of me is consumed with an ideal of simplicity that I can't achieve and wonders how we got to a place where the simple things are more complicated and difficult that the complex ones. But that's neither here nor there.)

So here's the thing: nagging feelings of conformity aside, I love my iPod. I guess you could call it love at first sight, but it's more like love at first listen. My music collection had been largely ignored as of late. I remembered to grab a new CD for the car about once a week, and I probably got through it eight or ten times before I switched to a new one. And, of course, I was much too lazy to disturb the order of the CD changer, so the available pool was limited to the CD's that live in cases and don't get put away. The good news is that those are some of my absolute favorites, but really, how many times in a row can you listen to American Idiot before it starts to get old? I have an unusually high tolerance for repetitive listening, but I was pushing the limit for a while there.

Now, I have every song I own with me wherever I go. It's somehow comforting to know that I could be listening to Revolver at a moment's notice. I don't know about everyone else, but I find that there's always one Beatles CD missing, and it's always the one I want to listen to.

But not anymore.

Happiness.