didyoufeelthatblog

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5. “California Stars” – Wilco & Billy Bragg

What’s its deal, anyway?

Right off the bat, let me state that Woody Guthrie wrote the original lyrics to this song — it irks me when credit isn’t given to creators. The way I imagine it, the lyrics (later adapted by Jeff Tweedy of Wilco) paint a picture of a couple laying in a meadow talking about how their troubles would fly away if they were instead laying on a bed of “California stars.”

This “what could be” yearning carries throughout the entire song with a dreamy sequence of acoustic guitar chords accompanied by piano and violin. For the singer and/or writer, California symbolizes rest after a long time spent toiling away (“I’d like to lay my weary bones tonight”), and he’s willing to achieve this goal by any means necessary (“Yes I’d give my life to lay my head tonight on a bed of California stars”). The song captures an intense desire to run off to California which has often been the case throughout history (See: the Gold Rush, the Dust Bowl, the recent tech boom, etc.).

If it were up to me, every Californian would know about this song just so we could better appreciate the land we live in — drought and all. So roll the windows down, drive down I-5, and do some Californian dreamin’.

How did you two meet?

It just so happens that I’m wearing the same band shirt I bought at a Wilco concert, my first concert ever. It was a warm, summer night at the Greek Theater in Berkeley (go bears), and being the hip eighth-grader I was, I went to go see the opener, Okkervil River, and had no idea who Wilco was.

But, Wilco was predictably phenomenal and when they started playing “California Stars,” I was stunned — it came off to me as such a simply crafted song with a few basic chords and the same lyrics looped throughout the performance. But there’s something magical about that kind of simplicity. It’s accessible to many, it hums through your mind for days afterward, and (probably just for my fellow Californians) it feels like home.

I have been spending this summer in Washington, D.C., a long way from my home in California. Now, I love my state. Let’s make that clear, but sometimes you need to step away from something in order to really appreciate it. When I left for D.C., I was incredibly relieved to take a break from my Californian life (no, not of surfing and movie stars) of school and work and whatever else filled my schedule. I don’t mean to say all this as a “Woe is me!” sentiment but to note the powerful relationship we have with our physical location. Your emotions and memories become deeply connected to the ground beneath your feet. That’s why you can return to your favorite park bench, your elementary school yard, or even “your” seat on the bus to step back in time. But the beauty is that this relationship is fluid and ever-changing.

I may have left California with relief to start my summer in a totally different place, but I’m excited to get back to my land of towering mountains, golden bridges, and a particular lake with far too many Canadian geese. Even though I’ve been living in the District of Columbia for the past two months, that space between my headphones has always been the District of California.

In a tweet

“I’d like to rest my heavy head tonight on a bed of California stars. I’d like to lay my weary bones on bed of California stars.”

Trivia bonus points

Not so much a trivia bonus point, but Wilco recently released their latest full length album on their website to download for free. Grab your copy here.

If you liked this, you’ll love

Bright Eyes —  “We Are Nowhere and It’s Now” 

Lucius —  “Until We Get There” 

Bahamas —  “Lost in the Light” 

[didyoufeelthatblog]

4. “That’s Alright” - Laura Mvula

What’s its deal, anyway?

If you’ve been searching for your latest power lady, Laura Mvula has come to the rescue with a self-empowerment anthem that is right up there with the likes of “Flawless” and “Independent Woman”.

The song starts with an infectious drum beat that lets you know something big is coming, and she doesn’t disappoint. The first words out of Laura’s gorgeous, soulful voice are “I will never be what you want, and that’s alright.” It’s this unapologetic, self love that makes you instantly relish the song (in other words, respond with, “Yas, queen, yas!”). Throughout the rest of the song, Laura preaches about how she has imperfections (“My skin ain’t light, and my body ain’t tight”), but she doesn’t give a damn what you think about them. She marches to the beat of her own drum, and perhaps the drum beat is symbolic of that.

The most salient part of the song is the chorus which asks, “Who made you the center of the universe?” questioning why we place so much importance on how others view us. From the tone of this question and the rest of the song, it’s apparant that Laura thinks it’s absolutley ridiculous that we’re conditioned to value ourselves based on the perception of others. Moreover, she hopes and prays that the people will realize self love and understand how freeing this mindset change can be: “And every morning when I wake up I pray for you, and then I pray for me that soon you’ll see how love can be. Our love will set you free.”

With the barrage of beauty standards flooding our media, it’s crucial to pick out these gems that instead advocate the importance of raising your own self-value.

How did you two meet?

Normally, I can remember exactly how I discovered a song, down to the price and month. But, the avenue that led me to Laura Mvula has escaped me.

Instead, let me paint you a picture. It’s Day 2 of Coachella 2014, and Laura is scheduled to play on at noon. For anyone who’s been to a music festival, noon is basically dawn. No one goes to see noon shows. But I was insistent because I knew Laura Mvula (pronounced mmmmm-vula like the sound you make after sipping on a hot cup of tea) wouldn’t be one to miss. And I was right.

Watching Laura perform spectacular songs while munching on cool watermelon in the hot desert heat was possibly the most refreshing experience I’ve ever had. Beyond the euphorically delicious watermelon, the lyrics of “That’s Alright” really hit me. Like millions of other young girls (and boys), I spent the better part of my middle school life hating everything about my appearance mostly because I thought everyone else hated it too. But one day, my 13-year-old self realized that I paid literally no attention to how other people looked, or at least I had no negative feelings towards them. In other words, I was so obsessed with fearing how others judged me, I spent no time judging others. In a triumphant middle school awakening, I took ownership of my self-value, and it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

Like, do you know how much more fun a pool is when you’re not trying to cover up your curves?

This realization allowed me to be a kid again. So let me end this in a thank you to the people in our lives that preach self-love – I’m looking at you, Laura Mmmmmmmmvula.

In a tweet

“And every morning when I wake up I pray for you, and then I pray for me that soon you’ll see how love can be. Our love will set you free. What’s it gonna be? See the beauty in your eyes”

Trivia bonus points

Laura Mvula’s music was once colorfully described: “Imagine classy, winsome lady music, like Rumer, only with orchestrations like the Beach Boys. But — here’s the twist — she looks like Erykah Badu: regal, sphinxy.”

If you liked this, you’ll love

Laura Mvula – “Like the Morning Dew”

Monie Love (feat. True Image) – “It’s a Shame (My Sister)

Banks – “Change”

[didyoufeelthatblog]

3. The Ocean: Claude Debussy vs. John Butler

Whoa, two songs? What’s happening?

I thought I’d try something different and write about two songs instead of one. There’s plenty of common themes found in music, and it might be worthwhile to explore the similarities and differences between these two pieces. Brace yourself.

The first is Claude Debussy’s masterpiece “La Mer” (translating from French into “The Ocean,” duh). My boi Claude finished composing this work in 1905 #tbt. Ugh, it’s more than four minutes longgggg. I know, I know it’s pretty lengthy, but it’s worth a full listen. If I could sum up this song in one word, it would be colorful. One of the reasons this song is so memorable (or perhaps not memorable at all) is because it lacks a central tone but still sticks to the same theme. While listening to this song, you can clearly visualize an ocean with the schools of fish zipping around, the shattering crashes of tidal waves, as well as the serenity that calls people to it time and time again. All of this is 25 minutes? You betcha.

Next up is a solo performance of John Butler’s “Ocean” on his famous 11-string acoustic guitar. At first glance, you might think, “Oh here we go again, another hippie-dude with an acoustic guitar,” but you soon are blown away by how much strength and voice John pulls out from his guitar. This is one of those songs that has you on the edge of your seat. It contains intense rises and falls, gripping changes in speed, and even crazy on-guitar percussion. It’s no wonder to me that this video has over 16 million hits because I’ve watched it at least 15 million times. And, I still am in utter awe.

I get it. Both are oceans. Very clever.

Thank you, reader. But they do share more in common than just the title.

Claude’s “La Mer” struck me personally just because it was so visual. As far as musical numbers, it’s pretty rare when you can close your eyes and clearly visualize an entire ecosystem. “La Mer” does that to me with its peculiar melodies and whooshing exclamations that indicate that the ocean, like life itself, has no unifying melody. Instead it’s the dichotomy of emotions and velocities that make our lives so unpredictable. “La Mer,” in this fashion, not only captures the variation of the ocean’s beings and energy but the incredible changes of life itself. (Okay, cool it. Are you a philosophy major or something?)

John’s “Ocean” is far more captivating, in my opinion. Claude organizes a full orchestra to illustrate the deep complexities of an entire ocean, but John arguably does the same using a single guitar, one missing a string even. I admire Claude’s accomplishment, sure, but I feel more of John’s “Ocean.” Just take a look at his face. At any point during the performance, you can tell that he is devoting 100% of himself to that moment. Nothing else matters. That’s the kind of passion that I hope all of us yearn for in our daily lives. That moment when you’re so deeply invested in whatever you’re creating that you can effortlessly block out any other distraction. Basketball players recognize this as that quick three-point-shot; English majors see this when they’re captivated by an author’s or perhaps their own inspiration; musicians (like myself, although I am not nearly half as talented at John Butler) feel this moment when you literally can only think about the next note. It’s as instinctual as a taking a breath. With all the noise surrounding us in life, an ocean of noise, it takes this passion to isolate what truly matters to you.

In a tweet

“Through these other people you can explore your own feelings. Sometimes you can explore them more because you’re not hindered by reality.”— John Butler

Trivia bonus points

Claude Debussy was a child prodigy when it came to piano and received a scholarship to study at a fancy music school. But when he was forced to compose in a style he found constraining, he left and remarked, “I am too enamored of my freedom, too fond of my own ideas!"

John Butler had a humbler route to fame. As a kid, he used to play air guitar on a broom in his garage, and “Ocean” was originally performed while he busked on a street.

If you liked this, you’ll love

The Weeknd vs. Ted Lucas

The Kooks vs. Wake Owl

Kanye West vs. Okay

[didyoufeelthatblog]

2. Dog & Panther – “Love Make”

What’s its deal, anyway?

This song is a message. It’s quick, loud, and to the point, so you couldn’t miss the gist even if you tried.

The sounds stack on top of each other into a tremendous build made up of very unique instruments, ranging from xylophone to harmonica to trumpets. Sure, everything seems to fit together in the end, but during a first listen, I doubt that a listener could predict what instrument was going to come next. The result is a feeling of unpredictability. While maybe not intentional, this fits well with the core message of the song of embracing an unforeseeable future.

But what I find most interesting about this steady rise in intensity is the brief moment of quiet before the lead singer belts out all 36 words of the song. I like to think that this represents the instant not when the song’s energy is lost but when the energy is channelled in a different direction. It’s a quick breath to reform the song into a triumphant mantra rather than a cacophony of sound.

How did you two meet?

I first heard of Dog & Panther in 2011 through a random encounter with a making-of video for their song “Giant Hands.” It’s a fascinating introduction to a band because you get to see not only how the music is written and produced but how the band members interact with each other. In past interviews, the guys behind the mics stress that Dog & Panther is just an excuse for them to hang out. They all have different things going on in their lives (they’re full time engineers, filmmakers, and graphic artists), but making music together is something they all enjoy. What an adorable friendship.

“Love Make” has a very special place in my heart, though. To me, this song captures the absolute essentials in life: (1) believe yourself, (2) love, (3) accept your faults, and (4) act today. This message has lifted me out of clouds of stress and fear by reminding me of what truly matters. I even have these lyrics taped onto my bedroom wall in case I need to refocus my energy. I’ve repeated these lyrics to myself so many times that I finally understand why people pray.

It can be really tough to remember what is most important in life when you have a thousand voices telling you what to do. Ironically, we tend to worry most about things we won’t remember a year from now, and it’s the moments in which we show and receive care that are most memorable. Just this past semester, I wrote close to 75 pages of essays (16 of those on Susan Boyle), but I probably couldn’t recall what I typed out (except everything about SuBo). But I can vividly remember times when I play-fought with my friend during the middle of a study session or when I dropped my reading to go on a hike. Sometimes you need to skip class to call a friend or take a sick day to recharge. We shouldn’t be tolerating these actions; we should be encouraging them.

This song is my espresso shot of motivation to do good and be well. So knock it back, dear reader, because we could all use a little more inspirational caffeine running through our veins.

In a tweet

“Don’t believe what anyone says. You’re not alone. You’re strong. You have love to give, so give it away, and let go of the wrongs you’ve done. You have today, now make your life your own.”

Trivia bonus points

Dog & Panther creates their music using a unique mix of everyday objects and standard musical instruments. In past songs, they’ve used a camera,grocery store items, a car engine, and even a wheelchair.

If you liked this, you’ll love

60 WATT KID – “Take the Pain Out of Your Chest”

Dog & Panther – “Laugh, Look, Cry, Think”

Night Beds – “Faithful Heights”

[didyoufeelthatblog]

1. Okkervil River – “Lost Coastlines”

What’s its deal, anyway?

If you decide to listen to this album in its entirety (which you absolutely should), you’ll quickly pick up that the songwriting is centered around the struggles that come with being a rock and roll band. “Lost Coastlines” in particular describes the stress of keeping the band together using the metaphor of a crew being sent out to sea only to discover that “nothing we’ve actually seen has been mapped or outlined.”

Additionally, as one of the only duets found on the album, let alone the band’s entire discography, this style further highlights the conflicts that occur between band members. Will Sheff, the frontman of Okkervil River, sings in a higher pitch and with more urgent, run-on lyrics, while Jonathan Meiburg, from the band Shearwater, contrasts with a lower voice and leisurely repeats some of his lines. But this song is not woefully performed, and instead you get the sense that this is a struggle bands feel privileged to have because it’s probably a testament to their success, a sign they’ve been doing things right so far.

After the main verses, the song explodes into a sing-along. The inter-band conflict can’t be solved in a single song, so the band kind of goes, “Fuck it. Let’s just sing,” which I think should be included in everyone’s mantra.

How did you two meet?

In December of 2008 on a blisteringly cold (by California standards) night, I proudly presented my Borders gift card to the cashier and bought The Stand Ins for $12.99 plus tax. It was the first album I ever purchased.

For years I’ve immersed myself in the world of Okkervil River, so much so that I strongly associate periods of my life with each album that came out. To be quite honest, while I’ve spent hours listening and analyzing Sheff’s music, I never personally connected with many songs. Devouring a new Okkervil River album for me was always about listening to a story and trying to pull apart the symbolism and imagery with an almost academic mindset. I’ve treated the songs like books that you read over and over again, yet you pick up on something new every time. That’s how I fell in love.

It was only a few weeks ago that I truly felt like I was a part of an Okkervil River song: “Mary Had a Little Lamb” (lol jk “Lost Coastlines”). For seven years, I’ve listened to this song (I think my iTunes song count is hovering somewhere around 170). I’ve dissected its imagery, its melody, every wailing tone that Sheff belts out. But I couldn’t hear my own story. Now I hear it, at the ripe, old age of 20, taking a stab at this thing called life. I’ve realized that the older you get, the more often you’re being shipped off into a place with “lost coastlines”:

You have no clue who you’ll meet:

“Leaving behind all the faces that I might replace if I tried on that long ride”

Whether you’re going in the right direction:

“And see how that light you love now just won’t shine There might just be another star That’s high and far in some other sky”

Or even why you’re sailing in the first place:

“Ticket in my hand and thinking wish I didn’t hand it in. ‘Cause who said sailing is fine?”

People tell me all the time that I’ve got my stuff all figured out. I go to a good school, fill up my resume with nice-sounding experiences, while always presenting a calm demeanor. But, especially this past year, I usually felt like I was drowning. My exterior comes off as this Jonathan Meiburg-type singing nonchalantly about all the chaos happening around me. When all the papers, responsibilities, and deadlines continue to pile up around you, it’s easy to joke about the stress. But it’s that anxious, screaming Will Sheff voice that I felt within me, especially at night when there’s nothing but you and your thoughts.

But every day, I’m trying to make it to the end of that song. I’m trying to focus on understanding my own limitations, realize that I can’t control every facet of my life nor do I wish to, and enjoy this rock-and-roll ride while I can. Because at the end of the day, when there’s nothing you can do but fill your mind with hollow worrying, what else are you going to do other than toss your hands up in the air and exclaim, “Fuck it. Let’s just sing”?

In a tweet

“And every night finds us rocking and rolling on waves wild and wide Well, we have lost our way, nobody’s gonna say it outright”

Trivia bonus points

This song was originally written to be about a train ride. A promotional video for the album contains different language. Can you imagine the frantic, last-minute lyrical changes there had to have been made for that flip? That’s Will Sheff for you.

If you liked this, you’ll love

The Deadly Syndrome - “I Hope I Become a Ghost”

Okkervil River - “Unless It’s Kicks”

Clem Snide - “I Love the Unknown”

[didyoufeelthatblog]

Did You Feel That?: A Music Blog

It wasn’t all that long ago that I was a spirited eight year old dancing around a boombox blasting Britney Spears’ smash pop hit “Toxic.” My knees may creak a bit louder nowadays, but I still feel the same sense of awe while listening to a song that captures an honest portrayal of an artist’s emotions that they held while writing and composing it.

So, maybe not “Toxic.”

Music has this uncanny ability to encapsulate and transfer pure emotion. That sounds flowery, but I think you know what I mean. It doesn’t matter whether a piece of music has lyrics or not, a full orchestra or just a crummy guitar missing a string; artists write music because they’re feeling something that they can’t quite express.

Think of it this way: Two major themes of love and loss dominate the songwriting world. I’m convinced that this is because those feelings are hardest to put into words.

“If I was a poet or maybe a king, then I could explain to you how my heart sings whenever I look in your eyes.”— Eef Barzelay - “True Freedom”

We are equipped with thousands of words, yet language can fail us.

But in many cases, music doesn’t even need words for us to still instantly understand its meaning. Even the most emotionally-distant person can get that this famous Chopin piece is probably not something you’d get crunk to at a club (unlike this groovy Miami Horror track). But it does present an interesting question: Do we associate music to feelings or feelings to music? To try to answer that question and more, I humbly present: Did You Feel That? In these posts, I aim to do three things:

Speculate from lyrics and performance what the artist is trying to express

Share my personal story with the song and how it affected me as a listener

Invite you, the reader, to engage in the same conversation

Both of you reading this might be thinking to yourselves, “Who does this internet lady think she is? Does she even know what’s she talking about?” Short answer: No. This subject matter is way too vast and complicated for any one person to become an expert anyways. But I hope this will be a learning experience. I want to try to do my best to learn and express why I love music unconditionally. Also, if I can share any nuggets of discovery and/or just some jazzy tunes with you, dear readers, that would be rad. Still not convinced? Here are my credentials:

I’ve written an academic paper on Susan Boyle.

I once busked on the street with my friend long enough to buy a burrito.

I’ve written plenty of my own songs, including a mildly entertaining rap.

Okay, so I’ve made my case. Read it or don’t, but let’s get down to business.

Welcome to Did You Feel That?