Music Monday: I Still Remember

Last week, a good friend of mine was trying to sell me on Spotify.  You know, the new music site that lets you listen to 3 trillion songs, in multiple languages, all at once.  At least I think that's how it works (There's a slight chance I could be wrong.  If I am, be sure to let me know in the comment section.).  Given that I'm a little protective of my music-listening habits, I wasn't quite ready to jump on the Spotify bandwagon.  After all, I could be potentially drastically altering one of my most treasured pastimes, consuming music.

Anyway, after discussing it with my buddy for awhile, I could tell just how much he's enjoyed discovering all that Spotify has to offer.  So I left the conversation agreeing to check out Spotify within the next couple of weeks and getting back to him with my reaction to it.

One thing that is keeping me from embracing the never-ending library of songs is the possibility of judging music too quickly in order to move on to something that is more immediately satisfying.  I'm worried that I might overlook music that would eventually mean a great deal to me simply because I wasn't initially impressed by it.

Nearly a week later, I've yet to download even the free version of Spotify.  Like I said, I'm hesitant to have so many songs at my disposal.  I'll get around to checking it out eventually.  But in the meantime, I've been wondering what bands/albums/songs I might have passed over if I would have had access to Spotify over the last few years.


Case in point: British band Bloc Party's second album, A Weekend in the City.  I admittedly was completely disappointed by the album the first dozen times I listened to it after purchasing it.  If I had listened to it on Spotify, I imagine I would have listened to it, been unimpressed, and moved on.  There wouldn't have been the same desire to give the album an extended opportunity to catch my attention.  Because I had purchased the album and it thus became part of a relatively small library of music, I gave A Weekend a 27th chance.  And I'm glad I did.  I now consider it one of my top five favorite albums and home to an absolutely beautiful guitar riff that has an indescribable effect on me every time I hear it.

I'll get around to trying Spotify, and it'll be sooner rather than later.  But when I do, it'll be with a sense of caution.  After all, I still remember each album I own and it's place within my library.  When I open the door on Spotify, I'm afraid that will no longer be the case.

Music Monday: Singing In My Sleep

Late on a Sunday night back in November of 2007, I left a Thanksgiving party with friends and colleagues to venture across town to catch a solo set by Dan Wilson, the former lead singer of Semisonic. He was opening for Sondre Lerche (who was touring in support of his work on the Dan in Real Life soundtrack) at the Waiting Room in downtown Benson. I had debated whether or not to leave the party. Given that I was one of the organizers of the shindig, I felt it might be a little rude to take off. But on the other hand, I decided it'd be even more rude of me to skip out on seeing the guy who wrote one of the most clever verses in recorded music history.*

So with a digestive system full of turducken, I made my way over to the Waiting Room and witnessed one incredibly crisp performance. Wilson took to the stage without a backing band and played a set full of songs that were as timeless as black and white photographs.

As Sondre Lerche went on stage, I spotted Wilson standing off to the side near a big window that looks out on Maple St. I went over to shake his hand, and he was gracious enough to engage me in conversation for a few minutes. I let him know that I had been playing some of songs for my first grade students and that they loved his music, which made him smile. I thanked him for his music, shook his hand, and left.

As I walked to my car, I thought about how I could have stayed home that night. Instead, I went out and caught a show that was an education on what every songwriter strives for--making music that is the soundtrack other people make their memories to.

*For those of you wondering about the claim I made at the end of the first paragraph, check out the second verse of Singing In My Sleep by Semisonic

Music Monday: Sing

Push play before reading.

As summer comes to a close and a preview of the coming fall air can be felt on the walk out of my apartment building toward my car each morning, the soundtrack in my head regularly turns to the sounds of Travis.  As soon as I open the door to step outside and feel the crisp, cool air, my mental soundtrack begins playing the intro to the song "Sing".  Perhaps the sweeping wind-like sound of the opening few moments of the song reminds me of the fall breeze.  I can't quite put my finger on it.

My friends and family probably get tired of this, but I have a habit of making comments like, "If there's ever a movie made about my life, I want this song to be included."  (It's not like I actually expect a movie to be made about me.  I'm not that interesting.  I guess it's just my way of saying that a band's music has meant a great deal to me.  But then again, maybe, just maybe, this blog will take off and become so popular that a movie actually is made about my life.  Don't worry, you'll be able to say you were reading me way back before anyone else!  And moving on...)

Give Travis a listen if you haven't already.  Your life will be better off because of it.  And if by the slim chance you don't actually like their music, try having a food fight like the one above.  That's guaranteed to make your life more enjoyable.