Iâm desperately trying to hold onto the remaining bits of summer through my music as the temperature continues to drop outside. Iâm quickly learning that listening to summer-stained guitars, lo-fi fuzz and the unique Californian vocal whine is not the cure for the end-of-the-summer blues. I have discovered, however, that collecting what youâve listened over the summer incites the most violent wave of nostalgia in your chest.
Iâm not talking like âpunched-in-the-face, kicked-in-the-gutâ violent, but rather a figurative, hard-hitting blow to the chest that oddly gives rise to the warm, fuzzy feelings of sitting on a beach with your best friends from home or college. Trust me, if you feel like procrastinating (and I donât know why you would want toâitâs still early in the semester, guys and gals, get it together!), itâs a fun activity to do. Youâll start realizing how much music you actually do listen to.
No, just me? All right.
Itâs no secret that music can immediately transport you to a specific time and place. Take a ride down memory lane with me to a land of pure pasta, wine and olive oil-gination (Italy).
âLonely Townâ by Brandon Flowers, off of his record, The Desired Effect.
Itâs really no secret that I have a full-blown crush on Brandon Flowers. Heâs a musical superstar with a handsome face to boot. It was an emotional night to say the least when I saw him live at Terminal 5 this past August.
The song opens up quietly with delicate piano chords which are immediately contrasted with the bright, metallic sound of horns. Yet, the combination of these two instruments, in addition to the gentle clock-ticking in the back, is violently melancholy. Flowers spares no moment to jump into yet another tale of brokenhearted, lonely people. While itâs a story that is constantly reused, Flowers always brings a fresh twist on itânot once does his story grow old.
In the middle of the song, Flowersâ voice is bolstered by a gospel choir of sorts. It only adds to the feeling of desperation and suffering the speaker is enduring throughout âLonely Town.â
Please stop crying.
âMasokissedâ by The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, off of their album, Days Of Abandon.
I have very distinct memories of traversing the streets of Florence to this song. The guitar is just so freakinâ happyâhow could you not make this your go-to walking song?
This song is almost incessantly upbeat. The jangling guitars only seek to make you tap your feet. Kip Berman, the lead singer, has a voice that is so sweet, it leaves you yearning for more. When this song ends, youâll be frustrated that it isnât longer.
And how can you beat the cuteness of the lyrics, âSweet masokissed in the morning mist / Why would you ever leave this place? / When all I need is your chipped tooth smile to know / Lifeâs more than okay.â The imagery here is f*cking beautiful. Morning mist? Whenâs the last time you heard those words paired together? Itâs a good dose of positivity for the upcoming, potentially-dangerous, semester.
âKaputtâ by Destroyer, off of their record, Kaputt.
There is something otherworldly about âKaputtâ and, honestly, Destroyer in general. The synthesizers have an Outer Space-adventure feel about them. When Dan Bejar comes in with his gravely, almost-spoken word voice, youâll feel yourself about to fall apart. Thereâs something about his voice that makes me want to pull my hair out because thereâs something horrifically romantic about it.
Put it this way: Destroyer is literal poetry put to music. You know how when you read a poem and makes no effinâ sense (English majors endure this on a regular basisâI speak from experience)? Thatâs Destroyer. It only makes you want to listen to them more. I guarantee you. Youâll be printing out the lyrics and annotating them likeâ
Okay, thatâs definitely just me. Iâll go sit in my f*ckinâ nerd corner now.
âOur Composition Bookâ by Wild Nothing, off of their album, Gemini.
For whatever reason, this song was one of the few I could access while I was in Florence. I used to wake up to this song playing from my iPad on my cold apartment floor with the sun glaring in my sleeping face.
There is something refreshing about the quick note progression in this track. Itâs easy to latch on toâyouâll find yourself humming it throughout the dayâbut itâs not an aggressive melody. Thereâs a lot happening in this piece. Featuring Jack Tatumâs warm, groaning voice, thereâs something unbearable cute about âOur Composition Book.â While the saccharine-sweet guitar riff dictates your ear for most of the piece, when Tatumâs voice comes in to tell some sort of story about acceptance as suggested by the lyric, âI donât know / Where you came from / But I donât care.â In general, dream-pop good fashion, his vocals are generally obscured by noise. Donât let that deter you, however. Let each sound wash over you. Relive the best parts of your summerâyouâll want to during the end of the piece where the guitar sounds reminiscent of waves crashing on the beach.
âCanât You Seeâ by Skylar Spence, to be released on his record, Prom King.
I never appreciated my home WiFi connection more than I did when I tried to download this song off of shoddy Italian WiFi. Ten minutes to download a song that was about five megabytes. FIVE.
Letâs take it up a notch and dance our end-of-summer blues to the song for that special egotistic maniac in your life (me). Featuring great lyrics such as âIn the heat of the moment / I thought I could kiss myselfâ and âIâm in love with my own reflection,â boost your own narcissism and ego with Skylar Spence as he takes you on a nu-disco rollercoaster ride. The synth is bouncy, the bass aggressive and his voice mellow. In short, youâll feel auditory confusionâbut it blends together perfectly to bring back around the perfect 80s revival.
âSurreal Exposureâ by Ducktails, off of their album, St. Catherine.
I had listened to this song religiously once I was able to connect back to Spotify in Italy. When this record came out, I had to lay down on my couch for ten minutes because I was so overwhelmed with how good it was.
âSurreal Exposureâ opens up with an atmospheric noise, lulling you into a trance. This trance is only further amplified by the repetitive guitar that runs throughout the piece. Matthew Mondanile, the lead singer, has a voice that is the definition of cool and mellow. He makes singing seem like an effortless process. Youâll be so caught up in the dreaminess of this piece, when it ends, youâll feel like youâve been on another planet for the past 50 years. Itâs that hypnotic.
âLovebloodâ by Sundara Karma.
Sundara Karma in âLovebloodâ has that traditional, aggressive rock sound. Youâll want to kick over a chair, sing into your hairbrush, maybe jump around to burn off all that excess energy this song inspires in you.
The song surprises you with a momentary slowdown just past the middle of the piece, only to jump right back into its original, relentless tempo. With the occasional flourish of the black keys in the chorus, you wonât be bored while listening to this song.
â20/20â by The Vaccines, off of their record, English Graffiti.
What I particularly enjoy about this track is how simply it describes the frustrations of love. The chorus, again, features that traditional rock-and-roll aggression and attitude, bolstered only by frantic guitars, but it ends nearly as quickly as it started. Justin Youngâs anger in the chorus translates into the speaker pretending to be over his or her heartbreak, but that façade is gone because the chorus ends with Young whispering into the microphone, âAll I want is youâ repeatedly.
Iâm on to you, The Vaccines.
âBreak Me Downâ by Paul Smith and The Intimations, off of their album, Contradictions.
âBreak Me Downâ is a simple, light-hearted indie rock track coming from Paul Smith of MaxĂŻmo Parkâs solo project. Unlike the jerky, frantic nature of MaxĂŻmo Park, this track features gentle guitar melody paired with Smithâs accent-heavy, mellowed-out upbeat voice. Thereâs something incredibly relaxing about this songâeven when it gets loud, itâs not that loud. Thereâs just something very sweet about it.
The music video is one of the coolest things Iâve seen as of late.
âCathâŠâ by Death Cab For Cutie, off of their record, Narrow Stairs.
This defined the first half of my Florence trip. I had to listen to it at every waking second lest I be overcome with auditory frustration.
This song is tragic. The chorus? âWell, everybody will ask / What became of you / âcause your heart was dying fast / And you didnât know what to do.â These lyrics paired with Ben Gibbardâs perpetually pleading voice, youâve got three minutes and forty-nine seconds of pure heartbreak. The verse guitar chords are so robotic, mirroring the acted nature of this âCathâ in the piece. The swelling, ascending set of chords in the chorus? A build-up to nothingâmuch like the fate of Cath.
On that wildly positive set-off, I leave you until next week, Jaspers.