Not that long ago I was in Rochester, New York, the city I grew up in. Being there always conjures spectres for me, some darker than others. This last time, caught at a stoplight, I was reminded of the itchy, tan interior of the family car, listening to oldies radio one Labor Day weekend. The station was playing the entire Beatles catalog beginning to end, in alphabetical order by song title. There was a catch. They were going to leave out one song, and whoever called up and identified the missing track won a prize. As a child it blew my mind, and as a stressed out child it forced me to imagine how many years it would be before I was old enough and clever enough to know the answer. I had a funny sense of honor about it, as I imagined my slightly older self listening along and making notes. I decided it would be okay to write down the songs, just for the sake of getting the order correct, but for sure it was inappropriate to consult record sleeves. Like the prize belonged to the person who knew, not the person who researched and made lists.
Of course I drifted away from the Beatles, at a certain point in adolescence it was hard to identify with anything my parents liked that much, and so I never learned the catalog well enough to ever even casually attempt to find the missing song on subsequent weekends. While sitting at the stoplight a few weeks ago, I tried to think of what bands I knew well enough to actually win if someone ran the contest now. Most of my favorites either 1. only made one or two records (Left Banke, Anne Briggs), 2. made one really good record and a bunch that I pretend don’t exist (Nas, The Microphones) or 3. have such complicated, overlapping discographies that I couldn’t possibly keep them straight (Misfits, Pavement). I had a notion that I could do Jawbreaker, but then I never really spent enough time with Bivouac. For some reason I can’t remember any Fugazi song titles, so that’s out, and I get tripped up with the N.W.A. skits.
I decided the only band I would be able to play the game successfully and with any sort of honor would be the Silver Jews. Five LPs seems enough to make it a challenge, and Berman uses the titles in nearly every song so they’re familiar. Then I cheated. I cheated so badly, I went to itunes and had it show me just the Silver Jews songs, arranged alphabetically by title. Of course the 11-year old in the back seat never could’ve imagined this technology, but if I had tried to envision what the worst villain would’ve done in order to win the contest, this would’ve been it. I was vaguely proud of myself for guessing the last song correctly (“[the] Wild Kindness”) but I forgot the “L” in “Albermerle Station” and so messed up the beginning. Looking through the list I realized I never would’ve done it and also realized that I had left out the singles anyway and would’ve lost anyway. Then I got thinking about the singles, about that funny song on the “Tennessee” 12” where he says “Being in love doesn’t mean yelling all weekend” and also about the first Silver Jews record I ever bought, the split single with New Radiant Storm King.
It had this sarcastic song about New York, which, as a teenager, I took personally, having grown up in the state and carrying a considerable chip on my shoulder about it. Going back to it now, it’s really pretty tame and his observations are sharp. I find myself more sympathetic to the Silver Jews lyrically now than I ever have in my life, certainly “When I was younger, I was a cobra, every case I wanted to to be cool, now that I’m older, and subspace is colder, I just want to say something true” is the best expression of the last few years of my life that I’ve heard. At 18 years old, “The Chrysler Building will never fall down as long as you frequent the bars in this town” seemed snide, but these days, nervously hovering in doorways on 2nd Avenue, I’m pretty sure he knew exactly what was going on.
So I’m curious what your band is, the one that you know well enough to be able to play the alphabetical song title game with. Maybe you are a person that reads here but doesn’t ever want to comment, well this is an easy way to do it. I actually would really love it if you did, it would mean a lot to me. I don’t even care if you check itunes.
3 comments:
I don't think I have one. Naming songs is like naming colors or something... inevitably a little arbitrary?
Fugazi is a good example. I could sing/recite every song on every album (save for Red Medicine, that was when I took a break) but I could probably only name a handful of song titles. Same for Pavement.
I remember hearing this SJ song years ago and I thought they were sort of taking the piss... Nice one, guys, but don't make fun of New York... It was deft because I felt like they were accurately riffing on everything cool about old New York. I haven't heard it in 10 years or more, I wonder how it will sound now.
Robin maybe ten years ago I actually once offered this 7" to you because I wasn't happy with it. I think yes naming songs is arbitrary but you remember the memorable ones. I think if you actually thought about Fugazi titles you'd remember them, like "Repeater" is called "Repeater" and "Waiting Room" is called "Waiting Room."
hmmm
yeah my brain works more like robin, more attenuated to the lyrics than the track listings.
oh, I bet I could do it with Free To Be, You + Me. that and the Hannukah records were my absolute favorites as a little kid.
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