[Taylor's note: The incredibly talented Vincent “Hey Is It Okay If I Get Called V-Sides” Rendoni did such a wonderful job with his write-up on Van Morrison's Astral Weeks that we decided we wanted him back. Luckily for all of us, he came back with this great write-up on Animal Collective that, personally, I could not agree with more... but read on and decide for yourselves.]
Animal Collective, “Fireworks” (download)
Not that it’s much of a surprise to anyone who has ever heard it, but “Fireworks” was one of the best songs of 2007. With a steam-engine beat and a background of frolicking hums, you think you were listening to some kind intergalactic train running, at least, until the lead vocals chime in. Now, I don’t forget that Animal Collective has always been the kind of band whose lyrics are either too muddled to hear or too vague to waste time analyzing, but when Avey Tare begins to sing, you can hear the sincere quiver in his voice when he begins, “Now it’s day / I’ve been trying to get that taste off my tongue,” quickly developing an image of being at the breakfast table in the morning, thinking of things past longer than we should have, as all the while, our cereal is congealing. A small bit of piano takes us to a beach illuminated by fireworks and Tare admits to us as much as himself that he’s only what he sees sometimes. You’re shocked. This song has somehow fused melody and celestial ambiance into a spectacular being. Your clap your hands in tiny glee. The piano and melodic howling play hopscotch around each other, brilliantly closing the song…
…Sort of.
Thing is, it’s only about 2:35 in the song with about 4:14 left. You will notice in the above paragraph, I said “Fireworks” was one of the best songs of 2007. It very easily could’ve been the best song of 2007, but then Animal Collective do what they typically do – disrupt and soil the underpants of the universally beautiful thing they created and for a lack of better words, get fucking weird. Shortly after where the song should’ve ended or evolved, there’s a sonic lull at 2:41 and the song wanders, sputters, and only what would seem predictably for this band, they let loose some random yips, howls, and barks. In contrast to the spectral fire they’ve created in the first part of the song, they go ahead and fucking salt and pickle themselves, replacing the piano with nausea-inducing Casio beeps and singing, well, whatever the fuck this is–
I’ve been eatin’ with a good friend / Who said a genie made me out of the earth’s skin / In spite of her, she is my birth kin / She spits me out in her surly blood rivers / All the people out lurkin’ / And dominions of the hot Turk dish / If the elephants are reaching for our purses / Meet me after the whirlwind shivers
Okaaaaaaaaaaaaay then. (more…)
As we approach summer, I find myself somewhat unimpressed by 2008 as a new release year. Granted, the second half of the year is almost always stronger than the first, and 2007 was no exception. But 2008’s best releases, so far, don’t feel quite as important as last year’s.
When I was in middle school, I had a lot of ideas for music videos. Generally, these ideas were boring and tame — mostly because at the time, I was listening to a lot of really sappy, sad music (I changed from a private school to a public school between seventh and eighth grade and had a bit of a hard time with it). Most of these ideas consisted of one boring act, definitely not enough to sustain an entire video — a woman packing, for example. And instead of ever developing these ideas or incorporating others, I would just do it myself, without even filming. If my idea was a woman running through grass, I’d put the song on, then run out on our lawn. If the song made me think of a woman cuddling by the fire with her cat, I’d turn the song on repeat, then do just that. It’s no mystery why I never tried to make it into the business. I’d be hard-pressed to remember any ideas that coordinate with songs now, except for one: Fleetwood Mac’s “Silver Springs.”
When you’re young, the desire to fit in can be a very, very dangerous thing. Sure, this applies to drugs, sex, alcohol, violence and all those things parents worry about — but it also relates to music.
The first music, in general, that I remember loving and growing up with was from The Music Man — as in the movie with Robert Preston, which I would watch repeatedly, to the point of annoying my mother, when I was about four years old. But memory is a tricky thing, and a lot of the music that stuck with me until today, I don’t have memories of hearing until I was much older than my Music Man-watching age. But one of the first rock songs I remember hearing and loving, probably from the age of seven or eight, is “House of the Rising Sun.”
Getting a car was a bit of a long process for me. In actuality, it probably wasn’t that long, but when you’re 17 and most of your friends have cars, anything short of buying a car the minute you see it is “too long.” There was a bit of a debate over the Pontiac Sunfire I wanted because it wasn’t exactly a safe car. Naturally, I didn’t care as much about safety; I just liked that it looked cool, and even though it was used, it was new enough to have a CD player (the downside for my friends who got theirs early is that a lot of them had to install one, an amenity that I doubted would have happened for me otherwise).
The best thing about St. Patrick’s Day – aside from that whole drinking thing – is that it’s a day to be especially proud about redheadedness.
[Taylor's note: My friend Clay makes the best mixes of anyone I know. He’s also one of the best writers I know. His words are fluid and natural, with a powerful grace and natural excitement. Naturally, I asked him to write a guest post for me about music, of his choosing. He selected My Bloody Valentine’s “Sometimes,” and these are his words to go with it. When you’re done reading, tell him to hurry up and update 