I’m tired.
Sure, I’ve been on a month-long holiday, caught up on my sleep, taken it easy. But there’s a real lethargy that’s come over my music appreciation of late.
I shouldn’t be surprised. 2006 was the year I started taking music writing seriously and probably the year that my music consumption reached its peak. I downloaded dozens of albums a month, bought up big on classics and new contenders and made time in my busy life for digesting, appreciating, and analyzing a constant stream of tracks.
And then some time in November, I noticed that I was slowing down. Sure, I had an iPod full of new albums to listen to over my holidays and any number of new contenders for ‘album of the year’, but I was spending more time listening to albums I’d owned for ages, just spinning them on repeat and letting the familiar and the previously-missed nuances float around me.
I suppose you can’t sustain the music gorging indefinitely. At some point you have to stop and take stock. I haven’t bought a CD in months and I can’t help feeling I’m slipping—like if I stand still long enough I’ll start listening to Phil Collins and someone is going to come and take my crit pass away from me. But I don’t really care—I need to recuperate.
So: what do you listen to when everything else stops and all you need is comfort food?
For me, there are any number of easy choices including mixtape perennials like Belle and Sebastian or New Order, but here are a few of the slightly more left-field tracks that get me through the holiday blues.
Grand National – Litter Bin
This track gives me an irresistible feeling of warmth, making it the perfect prescription under almost any circumstances. It has familiar elements from so many of my favourite songs (echoed guitar arpeggios, hushed vocals, stabby chords, slightly crackly production, slow build dynamics) but never feels cheap or derivative.
In a way, these Police-aping Brits managed to produce something as bittersweet and timeless as anything their idols produced—only with far less recognition. Of course, as something of an elitist, it’s nice to know that your feel-good tunes are still the domain of only a select few.
Laura Veirs – Secret Someones
I’ve never quite established how I feel about Laura Veirs. At some level, she’s entirely the kind of artist I would have little time for. She’s a self-consciously arty and wordy folk-singer. But in spite of my reservations about her voice and her lyrics and the general preciousness of it all, I love her Year of Meteors album and this song in particular.
Why? Well it has an irresistible chorus for one thing. The run-on, alliteration of the lyrics makes the best use of Veirs’ wordsmith skills I’ve seen. Backing-band the Tortured Souls is given the freedom to create a hypnotic, swirling atmosphere throughout the track—including a sputtering drumbeat like no other. And even the slightly-flat vocals bring an aching honesty and desire to the song. One for those lonely nights.
The Egg – Port Meadow
A perpetually underachieving Big Beat group might be an interesting choice for comfort consumption, but this song is in a league of its own. To my ears, “Port Meadow” is a bona fide classic of electronic music. It has the rhythmic looseness of prime-era Can. It has the atmospheric junglist beats of Goldie’s creative peak. And it has whiptight guitar work stolen from the best disco tracks you ever heard. The rest of the album has its moments of musical gold, but few can thrill me even at my most jaded and weary.
I’m sure the time will come soon when I’m ready to dive back into the waters of timeliness and topicality. But for now, I’ve got a full cupboard of familiar tunes.
Happy New Year Stypod readers.