Something Else

Dustin's Bar Mitzvah, "To The Ramones" - As much as I love my savagely brainy auteur-pop, I have to confess that I'm as much of a victim for the nakedly formulaic stuff as I was back in middle school - I mean, that's where the truth is, if not necessarily the insight. Case in point: "To The Ramones", the recent (possibly debut) single by the appallingly-named Dustin's Bar Mitzvah, which consciously falls about as close to the '77 Punk Rock aesthetic tree as you can get without abusing the word "Oi" or enlisting the services of Tim Armstrong. Needless to say, I doubt anything in this song will be news to anyone who's hardcore enough about their music to make use of mp3 blogs - well, okay, except for the fact that it definitely gets one thing really, really right.

Songs about denial can be tricky ventures, probably because the common thread binding most compelling music is that it denies the audience absolutely nothing. This is especially true in a pure pop context when you're (ostensibly) making something for everyone - I mean, John Cage's "4'33"" may be the most thoughtful work of denial in the canon, but even I don't want actually want to listen to it, and I say that as someone who's practically worn out his copy of this. Consequently, a lot of pop songs about denial tend to work by just describing it, which I guess is fine in theory but in practice only seems to lead to a bunch of weepy sub-Jewel bullshit. I mean, if emotions are constant among humans - that is to say, if my "sad" feels pretty close to your "sad" - then it really shouldn't matter how accurate you are: at the end of the day, you're basically just selling apples back to the farmer.

"To The Ramones", however, is in no way an articulate song, although without question it's an arrestingly articulate slice of power-pop. I mean, I for one don't care how juvenile the lyrical content is (sing it with me, kids: girl breaks up with boy, boy loudly claims to not give a fuck, boy retreats to suffer in silence, song ends) when it's presented this smartly - "To The Ramones" is practically made of the dark-matter of descriptively denying one's own suffering, to the point where the song only ever explicitly alludes to it with the lines "Lie here on my bed/And get your voice out of my head" that anchor the chorus. I mean, okay, fine, it's not "What Do I Get" or "Don't You Want Me", but (a) what is?, and (b) it's still a neat little trick regardless, the kind of thing that actually sets you (or me, anyway) looking for meaning in a song's lyrics, no matter how stunted they (lyrics or found meanings, that is) may end up being. Of course, it also helps to sing all of the above to a blisteringly catchy unironically-manufactured-punk-pop song - everything seems more profound when you can't get it out of your head. Fuck, that's practically what the song's about, anyway. (Click here to buy the "To The Ramones" single from Rough Trade)

BC Camplight, "Couldn't You Tell" - I have to confess to being something of a sucker for the piano that drives "Couldn't You Tell", the lead single from BC Camplight's recent debut Run, Hide Away; I blame only my mom's undying victimhood at the hands of William F. Joel and my unfortunate luck of growing up across the street from Ben Folds Central. Not that I'm complaining, mind you - classicist pop music may not win you any cool points (except, of course, for when Harry Nilsson dined alone), but it can sure hit the spot sometimes, and being as that it's still nasty-ass February weather out here in Los Angeles, I figured some of y'all might be in the mood for a breezy, freewheeling Steely Dan-lite number. Hell, worst comes to worst, I'm arming you for the springtime mixtape season, because I guaranfuckingTEE you'll break "Couldn't You Tell" out when the sun's in the sky. (Click here to buy Run, Hide Away from Amazon.com)