There’s So Many Ways Around It

The following three songs are the centerpiece of a mix cd that I compiled over the course of the weekend. I’m a bit out of practice when it comes to creating mixes. I used to make them for people all the time, but this site has generally replaced/upgraded/expanded my impulse to select and share songs with people, and I now reserve carefully sequenced mix making for special occasions, and for special people. Don’t even bother to ask what the full tracklisting for the mix is, or for your own copy — though it’s not designed as one of those “every lyric is a secret code from me to you” things (in fact, I purposefully avoided that), it is intended to be at least somewhat intimate and private.

I’m rather pleased with this particular run of songs, partially because I think that in the context of the full sequence (just slightly over 60 minutes; I resisted the urge to totally fill the cd, which is very demanding of the listener’s time, but also a very common indulgence that I wanted to dodge in favor of a more deliberate form), the three songs form a bridge from one half of the set to the other, and take full advantage of the nature of the cd medium as opposed to aping the convention of vinyl/cassette side division.

In a way, I was mimicing the internal logic of Wowee Zowee, which is the only album in the Pavement/Malkmus catalog not to be obviously sequenced as an even set of sides. In its vinyl incarnation, Wowee Zowee is split over three sides, with side d left blank. The way the songs are divided over the sides do not make the same obvious, intuitive sense as the other LPs in Malkmus’ discography, and it’s not much more graceful on the cassette edition of the album, which breaks the sequence in two between “Best Friend’s Arm” and “Grave Architecture.” On cd, the record makes a great deal more sense. Rather than follow the conventional wisdom of George Martin and The Beatles (album sides should begin and end with key selections, weaker tracks should be shuffled between highlights) or the record industry (the most obviously likeable songs should be frontloaded and the lead single should be either the first or third song on the first side), Wowee Zowee places its emphasis on its sprawling center. If any point can be gleaned from the album at all, it may be in finding the beauty and pleasures of life’s lengthy, often mundane middle act.

Contrary to the claim of its initial detractors, Wowee Zowee is by no means shapeless. It has a brilliant, if fairly unconventional opening, and progresses toward dramatic heights in its final third (“Fight This Generation” –> “Kennel District” –> “Pueblo”) before reaching its climax (“OhhhmyyyyyygaaaaahdIcan’tbelieveI’mstillgoing!!!!”), and ends with a brief epilogue in the form of “Western Homes,” which is horribly underrated and totally necessary as a light-hearted postscript to the unhinged grand finale of “Half A Canyon.” Without the artificial structure of the vinyl lp, Wowee Zowee‘s flow is more cinematic, and that’s part of its nearly infinite charm.

Brush “To Reiko” – “To Reiko” is among the oldest songs in the running order of the mix cd, but the newest song to me, since I acquired Brush’s hopelessly obscure, newly reissued album at the end of last week. Its drowsy bass and easygoing, moderately melancholy keyboards were an ideal match to the rainy, quiet mood of this past Saturday. In spite of the incessant rain, it was sort of a perfect day, with a slow, gentle pace and cool, brisk air that signalled the imminent arrival of the autumn. At least for me, it was the sort of day that felt exactly right in its muted tone and lazy rhythm. I felt just a bit sleepy through most of the afternoon, but it wasn’t anything like fatigue so much as the sweet luxury of feeling as though I could drift off into a deep sleep at any moment, and it wouldn’t matter. (Click here to buy it from Ear Rational.)

Unrest “West Coast Love Affair” – I’ve listened to “West Coast Love Affair” at least twenty times over the course of this weekend, and I’m not even sure why. Somehow, some way I was inspired to consider this track when I composed the first draft of the mix on Friday afternoon, and it ended up becoming the center of the disc as well as the track that set the tone for every revision. The composition carries on the gentle, breezy tone of “To Reiko,” but there’s something deeper and darker in it. It’s shifty and moody, and seems to be transparently deceitful, as though we’re meant to read the whispered chorus as a hollow promise that the singer knows he will break, even if he doesn’t really want to. The song can’t make eye contact with you or anyone else, but you try to lock into its gaze regardless because it is just so beautiful and seductive. (Out of print, but there are definitely old copies of Perfect Teeth floating around, so look around. I assume that Teenbeat will be reissuing the album before too long, as they did with Imperial F.F.R.R.)

Royal Trux “Stop” – “Stop” starts slow but picks up the pace from the relative stillness of the previous two cuts, and serves as a crucial turning point for the rest of the disc. “To Reiko” seems adrift, and “West Coast Love Affair” is in a circular holding pattern, but “Stop” gently shuffles foward with a casual, cautious optimism. Don’t let the title mislead you, it’s not a song about the end of anything. It seems rather clear to me that it’s about making your way through a transition, both lyrically, and musically. Even if that doesn’t work for you, God help your soul if you can’t appreciate that brief guitar solo, with its warm notes and cool tone, and the way that it sounds as though it’s this especially touching and revelatory snippet of music that you’re accidentally overhearing from a neighbor’s room down the hall. (Click here to buy it from Insound.)