Lazy Song Days

This is just a stray observation, and like many of my stray musical observations I came upon it while humming in the shower. (I could never sing in the shower though).

Here’s my observation: Bruno Mars’ “The Lazy Song” is just the less pretty, more annoying version of Beach Fossils’ “Lazy Day”.

Now I must admit that while I do not dislike Bruno Mars entirely, and I have no wish to, as Tyler the Creator said, “stab Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagus”, but honestly I think his music kinda sucks. I’d call it diluted indie for mass consumption. Indie Lite, if you will. On the other hand, I love Beach Fossils. I think they have a wonderful sound, like a photonegative of early Wavves. Its lo-fi, as is still fashionable in indie these days, but instead of being consumed and downtrodden by having nothing to do, Beach Fossils seem to find beautiful moments in life that involve doing nothing at all.

This is why I think “The Lazy Song” is just a ripoff. Bruno Mars must have scanned the indie world and found Wavves singing “I’m soooooooooo bored”, Best Coast with “I’m just lazy when I miss you”, and of course, Beach Fossils’ contribution, “all we had to do was nothing at all”. The problem is, Bruno Mars sings about P90X, sex, lying in bed, and generally staying the fuck inside. That’s not a creative laziness! That’s an uninspired college kid procrastinating. Maybe he should have called it “The Procrastinating College Assclown Song”, although I guess that would make it less likely to become a major radio hit.

But I think Beach Fossils deserve the radio hit much more. This is because “Lazy Day” exchanges the indoors for the field, a place where two people can lie down and watch the planes above cross in the sky, feel the wind blow through their hair, and savor in a moment of bliss and nothingness. Because after all, a lazy day is all about how you do nothing, and I’d much rather go outside and have a beautiful moment than chill with my fucking snuggie.

I AM THE TABLE

I Am The Table!

It goes without saying that the recent Lou Reed and Metallica collaboration is fairly terrible. That could have been seen with just a look at the discographies of the two parties. How the fuck could a bunch of metalheads who haven’t produced a great album since the late 1980s possibly gel with Lou Reed? It is a collaboration with WHAT THE FUCK written all over it.

And how could you, Lou Reed? Sure, I don’t know you personally, so I’m not going to call you an asshole or anything, but how could you?! You were so cool! I love The Velvet Underground, so this free form poetry speed metal mash up gag is really hurting my ears.

But the album (Lulu) is not the focus of this piece. The focus is the lead single from the album, “The View”, more specifically, a moment in the song where the following lyric is heard:

“I AM THE VIEW, I AM THE TABLE!”

WHAT THE FUCK? What exactly does “the table” have to do with anything, ever? I am really glad though that Lou Reed and James Hetfield can agree that they are a piece of dining room furniture, it does answer a lot of the questions I had about “Lulu”. All will be answered with “the table”.

Seriously though, of all the things to put in a song, why a table? A table is just not not rock and roll. A table is one of the least badass things in this universe. Even a chair is more badass than a table. Even James Hetfield screaming “I AM THE TABLE” over some pretty heavy Kirk Hammett riffage cannot badass-ify a fucking table. It would seem therefore that tables are the anti-badass.

Still, does make for a good internet meme. Whatever.

I am (the table) terribly disappointed (in the table) that the careers of two icons of rock have come to this (the table). But what do I know, I’m just a college kid with a smart mouth, I’m no table.

The Year of Hibernation

Its been a while since I posted a blog of any sort. I wanna start that up again. Here goes a little ditty I wrote.

Sometimes I come upon a record that doesn’t yell, it doesn’t declare, it simply is. Youth Lagoon’s debut The Year of Hibernation is one such album. I’ll get this out of the way as soon as possible; I think it is truly a triumph. It is as beautiful as the countryside of Montana and as innocent and joyful as the youthful moments encapsulated in its songs. It is a masterpiece.

As a stereotypical music addicted, Pitchfork reading hipster, I get new music on an almost daily basis, so few albums ever bury themselves into my mind deep enough for me to come back and listen to them in their entirety after a month or so. The Year of Hibernation is different. I’ve been playing it in its entirety almost every other day for the past two months. Its one of those albums that works best played start to finish, in one fell swoop. However, to single out a few highlights, “Cannons”, “Seventeen”, and the stunningly emotional “Montana” are worth the extra listen. There is a spirit in “Montana” as great as the spirit singer Trevor Powers sings about in the chorus. (For the record, Powers is from Idaho, not Montana.)

On the subject of “Montana”, its worth a look at Tyler T. Williams’ music video for the song, which perfectly encapsulates the Americana of the song and may in fact be one of the greatest music videos I’ve ever seen. The concept of a sepia-toned look into the life of a middle aged man remembering his deceased father may seem cliche, but somehow it isn’t. Its gut wrenchingly emotional and honest and has left me and every friend I’ve ever showed the video to on the verge of tears. Hopefully it will appear at the bottom of this entry.

Getting back to the album as a whole, I think one main reason I find it so powerful is its ability to whisper and warble silently one moment and then swell to a crescendo a second later. Consider the chorus of “Cannons”, where the stanza is first said quietly to a solitary piano before it is repeated with a sense of volume and bravado. The same concept comes before the chorus to “Montana”, where a piano rings through distortion before growing to include other harmonizing instruments and finally, a chorus to be screamed with a sense of ultimate release and catharsis: “There’s a spirit in Montana and in your chest a soul, oh what a soul/I tried to be the middleman between you and this list/I couldn't move as the footsteps neared closer to me from the monsters that feed/I swore that I wouldn't bleed.. I won't bleed/There’s a spirit in Montana a note that rings like bells of cathedrals rung by the village scapegoat”.

I also think I find it moving because many of the moments depicted in the songs are moments I can either directly relate to or wish I could relate to. I feel for Powers when he says “you make real friends quickly/but not me” in “Posters”, I know that feeling of being guarded about friendship while being around someone who is outgoing towards all. Likewise, I really wish that “when I was seventeen my mother said to me/ don’t stop imaging/the day that you do is the day that you die”. These moments remind me of my childhood, a time I usually regard as rocky and difficult but in the half hour space of The Year of Hibernation I look back on with wistful thoughts. Its as if my memories are being sepia-toned with nostalgia.

I like that, it makes me happy. So does The Year of Hibernation. It moves me, it makes me publicly misty eyed at times, but mostly it makes me thankful for the happy times in life, both those in the past and the present ones being created. Powers summarizes it best: “And I was having fun/we were all having fun”.

P.S. - In the unlikely event that this is read by anybody related to Youth Lagoon, please come play at Bard College! Your last show in New York was 21+ and that was a pity.