Alright, finally. After several weeks of epic post-application burnout which left me with little desire to do anything but watch copious amounts of trashy television, I have finally begun the project I mentioned in the last post. I've dubbed it "Songs for an Impending Future," mostly because the future is all I think about in this tense period of awaiting admissions decisions. That, and the fact that my inner twelve-year-old giggled inappropriately at "Seminal Songs," the too cutely alliterative title I had considered previously.
It's also only logical to relate these songs to the future, as I've realized that's why they've resonated with me so recently. Whether lyrically or musically or both, they conjure the peculiar mix of hope and trepidation felt at the outset of a major life transition. This project is my attempt to verbalize how music helps my mind process those emotions. And if it happens to alert friends and strangers to a song or an artist they find exciting, or even generates a soundtrack to their futures, then it will be all the more fulfilling.
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1. Titus Andronicus -- "Fear and Loathing in Mahwah, NJ"
- Listen here.
- Lyrics here.
On paper, this song epitomizes the bilious kiss-off, with its livid, unforgiving lyrics: "The world screams out in agony and you don't care, but should the shit hit the fan, I just pray you will not be spared." Not quite the hopeful message you'd expect from something supposedly indicative of positive change. Its swelling arrangement, however, tells a different story.
It starts off calmly, distantly. Faint, tinny guitar chords waft lazily from the speakers, requiring the listener to lean in almost conspiratorially, as if eavesdropping on a downstairs neighbor's practice session through a heating vent. Patrick Stickles coolly deadpans the incisive first verse, giving no indication of the aural onslaught to follow. But just as you begin to wonder where this strange trifle is going, Stickles' exuberant shout of "Fuck! You!" erases any uncertainty, and the band breaks into the "demonic E Street Band" splendor that has now become its trademark.
Pounding drums, blustery harmonies, and even an accordion bolster the second verse, providing fist-pumping oomph. What happens after the lyrics conclude, however, vaults the song to unforgettable status. After a brief (literally, three seconds) lull, an exultant guitar riff kicks in, followed quickly by riotously crashing cymbals and piano. Then, just when it couldn't conceivably get any better, tripleted drums and soaring trumpets elevate it to an all-out barrage of sonic euphoria. Just try to listen to this triumphant instrumental coda without grinning.
Shakespeare fans -- friends will know I discovered this band because they share their name with one of the Bard's bloodiest tragedies -- will enjoy the menacing monologue (from their namesake play, of course) at the very end of the track. Like the lyrics, it remains thematically disparate from my personal connection to the song, but the conviction with which the character Aaron speaks mirrors the fire within anyone hoping to achieve what they believe they were put on this earth to accomplish.
This is the song I will play the very moment I hit whatever highway leads to my graduate school life. These are the lyrics I'll scream until I'm hoarse, finally bidding a decisive farewell to my regressed existence and resuming my professional life. These are the rhythms I'll pound with my fists against the steering wheel. This is the year the future arrives, and this is the song that will usher it in.
Titus Andronicus is on tour this spring. If you're a fan of totally exhilerating live experiences, you'll catch them in a city near you.
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