Tuesday, July 17, 2007
It’s such a shame we can’t control ourselves
More than anything I like the catchiest songs. It’s like when you have a bad friend, stealing silverware at the party, and you’re getting thrown out and standing in the doorway defending him, “you know he’s really a sweet guy…” It’s the same way with dumb songs with a brilliant hook, me sheepishly trying to explain my Belle & Sebastian obsession to a friend [1], or, you know, the Strokes. But my favorite kind of catchy song is the frantic one, Cap’n Jazz’s “Little League”, “Words and Smiles” by Tiger Trap, “I Want the One I Can’t Have.” I just heard “Make Out Club” by Unrest at the club and was helpless, grasping the forearm of everyone I saw, eyes wide and unblinking, begging at both best friends and unfamiliar faces: “did you know this is my favorite band??” Yes, everyone knew, even strangers.
After Unrest broke up, there were a few different ex-Unrest bands (and a nerve-wracking day spent at the Indie Rock Flea Market in 1995 expecting a secret reunion) and most were catchy but none were that frantic. I think Flin Flon is one of the more amazing bands of the last ten years but it’s more about tension and minimalism than overwhelmed, buzzing energy. Oh but Panax.
Panax was the duo of Bridget Cross (ex-Unrest) and Kathi Wilcox (ex-Bikini Kill, Frumpies). They released exactly one song and I have listened to that one song more than I’ve listened to all the songs by all the ex-Unrest bands combined. That’s not a criticism of Air Miami or Phil Krauth or whatever, it’s a testament to how terrific the song is. It was the first or second song on a Teenbeat budget CD sampler which promised a Panax full length in the upcoming year, but it never materialized.
In the verses, Cross desperately tries to fit all her words into each line, an un-ease that follows the story; when she sings about dreaming fitfully (“makes me think I’m crazy”) it inspires the same kind of fretful alertness as laying next to a nightmare-burdened friend. The flip is that the chorus has way fewer words, but the instruments pick up so excitedly, the frenzy only intensifies.
The rhythm is kept by a somewhat jaunty drum machine with a very compelling hand clap. If you’ve ever listened to old Guided by Voices records or Mortician you will agree that it’s hard to maintain dynamics with a drum machine. The deftness of Panax’s programming, along with a clever shift from resonant, descending notes to high staccato picking makes the chorus feel like this anxious, world-collapsing swarm, recalling the lyric, “how can I stay calm?” And then it all pulls back for this barren grief, her isolated voice asking, “how can you leave me now?”
I’ve never tried to play this song at a party but my guess is it could light up a dancefloor. I’ve never played it out of desperation but my guess is it could make the coldest heart have a change. I have played it for pretty much everyone I love and the immediacy of it is pretty universal in a way that makes me feel good about my friends. I don’t know what would change if everyone in the world heard it, but I’m sure it would be a good change.
[1] I actually kept the B & S records backwards on the shelf for the first few years I had them so no one could hassle me upon seeing the spines
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2 comments:
hey ethan they actually have a 7" on teen beat rleased under their names, not the band name, it came out when shady ladies was playing a ladyfest or a yoyo a gogo and tobi didn't even know about it. we saw it at the record store in oly that is also a thrift store.
yes! Layla it's true and the single has the prettiest cover ever but I'm not at all into the songs. I haven't heard it in years though, but I remember it being slow and tuneless. There's a third person playing on that record, one of the dudes from the Ropers. Remember when Tullycraft snuck a Ropers dis on their first record? I asked the guy from Tullycraft about it, if it was a injoke or if he really hated them and he said it was dead serious.
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