Five Song Friday: Last Train to Splitsville
This Week: Punk Panhandling, Rage Issues and Hits from the Honey Bear Bong
[NOTE: This is a Dear John letter to a band I’ve liked since college. I no longer believe that we are compatible, hence my formal, written request to terminate our relationship. I’ve left out their name in case you need to use this letter to break up with a band that you once adored but can no longer endure.]
Dear [band name],
How’s it going?
I was surprised to see your recent email. I didn’t know you had my new address.
I see you’ve got a new album coming out. Good for you. That’s great.
I always thought you were so talented. It’s nice to see that you’re still making music after all these years.
But here’s the thing, and I’m going to get right to the point…
I don’t think we should see (or hear) each other anymore.
I’m breaking up with you.
This is usually the part where I say “It’s not you, it’s me,” to make you feel better.
But my therapist wants me to be more assertive, so I’m just going to say: It was ALL you.
We had a good run, [band name].
I remember the early days when we were both young and everything was exciting. Frankly, we were goddamn fantastic together.
You were a great road trip companion and an excellent workout partner. We didn’t even have to talk, we could just lie around with headphones and stare at the ceiling.
But then you got weird.
We didn’t hang out as much. I moved on to other things.
You got serious about [bizarre non-music related side project] and [unlikely sexual partner]. I also heard there was some nonsense with drugs.
I know you went through some rough times. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.
When you got most of the old band back together, it was exciting. Knowing that you were recording and touring again warmed my heart.
When I heard that you were coming to town again, I was torn.
Should I stay or should I go? Would that old magic between us still be there? Could we pick up where we left off?
Before making my decision, I listened to your new music.
Oh boy. Those last few albums? You made some BOLD artistic choices.
Yes sir, you really swung for the fences and I admire you for that. But “swinging” and “hitting” are two different things.
Just ask any baseball player who sucks at hitting.
I gave you a good two hours last week. I really tried. I’m not looking for an apology, but it would be nice for you to take responsibility for the choices you made.
The backup singers? The dance remixes? The melodic whining? You did that.
YOU added the pan flute. YOU wrote the indulgent lyrics that sound like Young Adult Game of Thrones fan fiction bullshit.
YOU made me not love you anymore.
Look, your new music isn’t necessarily bad, but it doesn’t sound good to me. I literally made faces because your music made my stomach hurt.
But who cares about me? I’m just a dummy who stopped paying attention to you in the 1990s.
Last time I checked, you had over 8 million listeners a month on Spotify! That’s a lot! You should be proud.
Keep playing for them. You do you.
I’m going to slip out the back door and that will be that. Please don’t watch me go.
If the sadness is too much for you and the only way to get over this is by writing a song about it, I give you permission to use both my name and my likeness.
In the meantime, I still love your first two albums and I continue to do that air drum solo thing when nobody is watching.
Good luck with the rest of your life.
P.S. I still have your black hoodie. Let me know if you want it back.
Sincerely,
DJ Crankypete
Now please enjoy these five songs that are lovely…
Five Song Friday 012
“Making Me Nervous” - Brad Sucks
Brad Sucks doesn’t really have self-confidence issues.
As far as I can tell, Brad Turcotte (the Canadian singer-songwriter who does his musical business as Brad Sucks) likes himself just fine.
He’s been recording and releasing his music online since the turn of the 21st century. “Making Me Nervous” comes from his 2003 full-length debut album, I Don’t Know What I’m Doing.
That’s a funny name for an album because obviously Brad knows what he’s doing. Otherwise the album would just be 12 tracks of silence. Or static. Or 41 minutes of crying babies and chewing sounds.
If he really didn’t know what he was doing, when you pressed PLAY to listen to his album, it would open a new tab with video of the Ally McBeal dancing baby and an audio track of someone doing yard work.
What I’m trying to say is that he knows what he’s doing.
“Bus Money” - The Chats
If you long for songs about the simple things, The Chats have you covered.
These Australian punk rockers don’t draw inspiration from current events in the geopolitical arena, the complex cultural dynamics of modern society or the spiritual questions that have puzzled mankind since the beginning of time.
They make songs about smoking, drinking and venereal disease.
They make songs about fighting, fornicating and wishing they had the money to eat, pay the rent or ride the bus.
Their music is loud, tight and gloriously gnarly. Think early 80s California hardcore with a thick Aussie accent and a jackpot of weirdo slang.
The Chats describe their sound as “shed rock.” Which I’m assuming is similar to “garage rock,” except not attached to the house and more likely to get blown over in a storm.
“Not Gonna Let You Walk Away” - LOLO
What can I tell you about LOLO?
Here are a few facts:
Her real name is Lauren Pritchard and her website identifies her as an artist, songwriter, actress, composer and activist. This song comes from her adorably titled 2016 album, In Loving Memory Of When I Gave A Shit.
And LOLO is in all caps because when people say her name, she wants them to yell it.
It’s weird, I know, but she’s dead serious. Keep that in mind if you ever see her in person. If you say hello, you’d better bring some of that Sam Kinison energy.
I listened to one radio interview with her and the DJ wasn’t saying it loud enough, so she basically threw this poor guy out of a window. Right through the glass. It was on the ground floor, so he was okay. But man she really lost it.
All explosive rage issues aside, I do really like “Not Gonna Let You Walk Away.” It’s a slow burner about the end of a relationship and making amends.
But for what it’s worth, LOLO… you HAVE to let him walk away.
Otherwise it’s technically kidnapping.
“Home Soon” - DOPE LEMON
Here’s the thing about Angus Stone: he’s a capable and talented musician.
He’s been cranking out dreamy folk indie pop with his sister as one half of Angus & Julia Stone since 2007. And like most bearded singer-songwriters, he enjoys the occasional solo outing and side project.
One of these side projects is DOPE LEMON, where Stone cultivates his love for “laid-back coastal rock.”
“Home Soon” is as laid-back as it gets. In this song, Angus sounds like Floyd, Brad Pitt’s stoner roommate character from True Romance.
In the 1993 movie (written by Quentin Tarantino), most of the cast are involved in an ever-escalating assortment of cross-country violence and mayhem. But Floyd stays put on his couch, comfortable in his Pig-Pen cloud of pot smoke. The most effort he expends is lifting his makeshift honey bear bong to his lips.
I’m not saying that Angus was high or slacking off when he made this song, but “Home Soon” is a hazy, lazy head-nodding 3 minutes that is essentially Stone mumbling lyrics over the 1972 song “Stories” by the Chakachas.
It’s not exactly a herculean effort, but the result makes the perfect soundtrack for hammock swinging and/or cruising the boardwalk on a tricycle with your pet iguana.
“Nobody Can Live Forever” - Tim Maia
You’ll have to forgive Tim Maia.
This song by the father of Brazilian soul music came out way back in 1976, long before Musk, Bezos and Zuckerberg uploaded their souls to the Metaverse Singularity Server.
Maia didn’t realize that one day, some people COULD live forever… as long as they had 100 billion dollars and access to the Neuro-Uploader 3000.
Back in 1976, you just got sick or grew old and then you died. You didn’t have the option to exist in perpetuity as a virtual avatar entity thingy.
This song came from a simpler time when we still used pay phones and got up off the couch to change the channel.
In 1976, people were teased by the notion of everlasting life when astronaut Steve Austin was almost killed in an accident. They rebuilt him. They made him better, stronger and faster. And it only cost six million dollars.
But that was make-believe.
In the real world of 1976, death was still inevitable.
And corduroy was everywhere.
Listen on Spotify
Listen on YouTube Music
That’s all for now.
Thanks for reading!
Please share with someone who might enjoy.
“Virtually every writer I know would rather be a musician.” - Kurt Vonnegut