A Depressing, Albeit Beautiful, Concept

A few years ago, I happened upon The Antlers’ album, Burst Apart. I’d never heard of them, but I gave the album a go and was haunted by the lovely and melancholy tunes. It haunted me in the best way that music can. And for whatever reason, it took another few years before I finally said to myself, “Why in the world have I not tracked down more of their stuff?” So I did, and their 2009 release of Hospice melted my face upon the first listen.

It was everything I liked about Burst Apart: mellow yet heartfelt, beautiful but haunting, and lyrics that forced you to pay attention to them.

What made this album work even more for me, though, is that it’s best taken as a concept album. As the title suggests, Hospice, the lyrics and stylings surround those on their way out, the loved ones and the ones doing the loving, and those that we love that have already been lost. From their tribute to Sylvia Plath to the simple guitar and vocals of the final track, “Epilogue,” to the sobering tones of “Kettering,” the whole album feels like an exit soundtrack, one telling the story that all of us must undergo: the death of those we love and our own place beside them.

At times, it almost evokes lullabies, like “Bear,” but the lyrics keep us grounded in the emotions of what’s going on in the story of each song, the way we simply give in or rage against that dying light. Always, though, it’s beautiful, especially on the slow build tracks like “Atrophy” and “Wake.”

It might not be for everyone, as it is extremely somber and the lead singer’s, Peter Silberman’s, voice could be an acquired taste. But for those that feel the heart within his higher pitched tones and don’t mind a little rumination about death, you won’t do much better than Hospice.

Seclusion Within THE WALL

This month’s vinyl has to be chalked up to my brother's bad influence, considering he was letting me listen to such things when I was probably around five or six. Granted, given his extensive love for hair metal bands, Pink Floyd wasn't the worst thing in the world, but I'm pretty sure I was a bit too young to understand that messages littered through The Wall.

Even still, I remember one of the family road trips, when we had this old Toyota van. We took that thing everywhere, from Texas and back to California and back on multiple occasions. My parents would pack everything underneath the seats, then lay down the middle seat so they could spread a rollaway mattress across the back, creating a giant bed. So instead of seats and seatbelts, we slept across America to all manner of misadventures.

One year in particular, when I was quite young, they'd made me my own little Christopher cave in the very back of the van, in the "trunk" area, where I hung out and listened to my brother's cassette of this album one too many times. In particular, I remember rewinding and listening to “Goodbye, Blue Sky” over and over and over again. I don't know if it was the simplicity of the guitar or what exactly it was that struck my little heartstrings, but I loved this song. Who knows, maybe it was simply the voice of the little girl at the beginning? I couldn't tell you then--or now--why I kept listening to this song. Regardless, I listened and listened until my mother found out, freaked out, then wouldn't let my brother have his tape back until he promised not to let me listen to it any more.

As I’ve grown older and have owned my own CD and MP3 versions of the album, I’ve fallen more in love with the story and themes throughout--”The Trial” becoming one of my favorites on the album, especially given it’s follow-up of “Outside the Wall.” Of course, I love many of the classics as well, “Comfortably Numb” and “Another Brick in the Wall Pt. II”, but others like “Mother” and “Hey You” have worked their way through system, and “Goodbye Cruel World” still breaks my heart in its own way.

I’ve been wanting this on vinyl for some time--even if it is one of those albums that everyone into vinyl wants. But it is always so expensive, including the repressings. And while I didn’t find an original pressing or any such thing, I was able to track down an older version in gorgeous shape, and I couldn’t be happier. Such a wonderful album with gorgeous artwork and a timeless message. It doesn’t get much better.

And while I don’t know where my parenting strategies will come from, I feel like there will be worse things in the world than discovering my hypothetical six-year-old holed up in a tiny sanctuary, rocking out to The Wall.

It's Different... But There's Something Kinda Fantastic About That

The first Wes Anderson film I ever saw was The Royal Tenenbaums, and I was instantly smitten. I loved the humor. I loved the characters. I loved the acting. And even more, I loved the visual style.

From that first love, which included three visits to the surrounding theatres to re-watch Gene Hackman steal the show, I went through the rest of Anderson's short filmography. Since then, I've seen each new film and have anticipated the release of the next. With each one, I've continued to be astounded by Anderson's specific style, tone, and aesthetics--which I think many others are in love with as well. But I haven't heard many people talk about the soundtracks.

Because I'm such a visual person, the cinematography and set / costume designs always took the forefront, but it was somewhere during an umpteenth viewing of RT that I realized how perfect--even if a bit off--his musical selections were. It clicked for me when Royal and Margo are sitting in the ice cream parlor, the Charlie Brown Christmas song playing in the background. It seemed so bizarre but so incredibly right. The rest of the music opened up, then, and I realized that Anderson had as impeccable of music selections as any Tarantino film. Apparently, I'm not the only one to discover this, as American Laundromat Records put out a compilation called I Saved Latin!: A Tribute to Wes Anderson.

I stumbled across this compilation when researching the band Telekinesis (one of my personal favs), who did a cover for "This Time Tomorrow." The album seemed like such a wonderful idea, and I can't believe it took me so long to find out about such things--since there are volumes of these things dedicated to Tarantino. But much as I love the original versions of the songs, as Anderson uses in the films, I like that this compilation is all covers by up and coming bands.

For the most part, the tracks are solid. If you like the originals, you'll like the covers. There are some that definitely take a departure--like Tomten's "30 Century Man" and Freelance Whales' "Let Her Dance," which are both highlights of the collection. But all in all, it stays true to its roots while creating something uniquely itself.

To me, the highlights are the aforementioned Telekinesis cover, PHOX's "The Way I Feel Inside," The Ghost In You's "Oh Yoko," and Solvents' "Nothing in This World Can Stop Me Worrin' 'Bout That Girl."

Honestly, it's an all around great collection for a Wes Anderson fan, and with the limited vinyl pressing, the sooner you snatch one up--if vinyl is your thing--the better.