I chose this version of “Murdered in the City” by Concord, N.C. (holla!) natives The Avett Brothers because the crowd reaction was similar to mine the first time I heard it.
At the first line, there’s a laugh; images of Swayze’s Next of Kin come to mind and it brings a smile to the face. But by the time you get to the end …
“Always remember there was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name …”
Whoa.
I’ve listened to this song for months now and it still brings tears to my eyes. Literally.
The sentiment seems fitting for this week and, hopefully, all the weeks to come.
You Tube note: the avetts preform murdered in the city of the gleam 2 at stuyvesant high school in manhattan as part of the river to river festival
There’s nothing like a really upbeat, happy-sounding depressing song, is there?
I first heard this song, off Death Cab for Cutie’s 2003 album Transatlanticism, in the trailer for the Steve Martin movie Shopgirl. I loved it then and I love it now, as evidenced by it’s blasting through the speakers on the way to work today.
The second verse particularly stands out:
Our youth is fleeting,
Old age is just around the bend.
And I can’t wait to go gray.
And I’ll sit and wonder
Of every love that could’ve been.
If I’d only thought of something charming to say.
Ouch. We’ve all got our regrets. The times when our tongues didn’t work and we wish they did … or, the times when our tongues DID work and we wish they didn’t. But if you’re going to lament on your regrets, it’s best to celebrate it, which is what I think this song is about. Yes, we have regrets. Yes, we settle … but, boy, does it make good music!
Note: I always try to find the live versions of songs … just to see if the sound as good live as on CD … Plus, for this video, I just wanted to give Carson Daly a plug. He may need it.
Chagall Guevera was a band that lasted about 20 minutes in the late 80s, early 90s. They released one album, that’s now out of print, but the music is out there. The fact that you can still readily hear it may speak to the fact that they were a little ahead of their time. No one had any clue what to do with them.
I got to see them once, in Nashville at a benefit for the late Mark Heard. They only sang one song (Heard’s “Treasure of the Broken Land”), but brought the house down. I think it was their last performance as a band.
Selah.
On this song, “Violent Blue,” there are two lyrics that stick out to this song, a biting, beautiful letter to an old friend you don’t quite recognize anymore.
That was before you traded in your peace sign
For a finger
Whoa.
I think something happens with age. A cynicism that creeps in like a wrinkle that starts as a smile line.
And before you know it … it’s fingers for peace signs.
That theme jumps out early in the song when Steve Taylor sings:
When the perfume of belief was all we needed
It was all we needed
To set our sights
Again, when you’re young, it doesn’t take much to get you going. “Midnight and you want to go out? Sure, why not?”
When you’re old, it’s more like, “Midnight and you wanna go out? Sure, go ahead.”
Age. It happens to your body, but does it have to happen to your spirit, too?
(Note: Sorry the video just starts playing. Hope it didn’t make you jump.)
This could’ve almost been posted under a “music hardly heard.”
This band, Dryve, lasted about a blink of an eye in the 1990s. Their main album, Thrifty Mr. Kickstar, on the strength of this one song alone, has remained one of my personal faves.
Two pointless anecdotes:
1) I remember the first time I heard the album and halfway through the opening song turning to my girlfriend at the time and saying, “I’m going to love this album.”
2) I saw the band at a hole in the wall in St. Pete with the then-hot ska band Five Iron Frenzy. I dragged my friend Paul to the show. This was less than five days from a knee surgery for Paul, so I think he’d recall dodging crowd suffers and moshers more than anything else.
Anyway, I’m not exactly sure what it is about this song, but I think it has to do with the hint of organ that makes itself known at different points of the song. Or it could be the lyric:
“I know I got to step it up/ I’ve been too long running on luck/ Makes me nervous”
That still rings true to me. Sometimes I look around at my life and know that I have been blessed beyond measure and I need to start living like it.
This song is a reminder that life, even when it sucks more than any of us would like to admit, still ain’t that bad.
I’ve always loved this Hothouse Flowers song. Face it, any song that includes a reference to a blue Scirocco has gotta be cool.
But the part that has always stuck out to me is the lines about the black cat:
There’s a black cat lying in the shadow of the gate-post/
And the black cat keeps telling me that love is on it’s way.
I don’t know why that’s always stuck with me, probably the conversational rhythm of it. Or maybe it’s the idea that something supposedly symbolizing bad luck is the bearer of good news … but that’s probably a stretch.
The song was popular for about 10 minutes in 1988, but I still love it (I own the CD and the song makes it onto “mix tapes” every now and then). The second album, “Home,” was so good I bought one for me, my girlfriend at the time and she bought it for her mom.
I came across a live recording of this song thanks to the uber-cool site The Ultimate Bootleg Experience. If you haven’t been there, you should. It’s like an audio museum.
I came across a 1988 concert by the band and was immediately transported. Like most music, it isn’t just the songs themselves that stick out, it’s all of the memories that stay with them.
For me, the stuff that sticks includes seeing the band at a show in Ybor City, outside Tampa, Florida (my first “club” show). I went with college friends Bryan Lowe, Tawanda Stroud, and Lynn Jett. I remember Tawanda didn’t bring her I.D. she couldn’t get in. That didn’t stop the other three of us, though. She stayed with the car. We went in.
“With friends like that,” right? Pretty jerky, I admit, but the show was so good I didn’t feel guilty.
That’s a random memory but that’s the beauty of music. Here it is, over 20 years later and still remember names, locations, and the context of the night. I have no idea where Tawanda and Lynn are (I see Bryan about once a year), but they all are just as close as a song away.
