Love | girlpants
Tag: love

oh god how did i get here

Last Tuesday, Dum Dum Girls released their first full-length, I Will Be, and I’ve been playing it ever since. They’ve got a touch of a lo-fi sound with fuzzy vocals and gui­tars, along with lazy-sounding surf-style beats and lyrics about love and longing that must be inten­tion­ally naïve — a com­bi­na­tion that seems to be enjoying a new flow­ering in the past couple of years as some kind of sub-sub-genre, which already has lesser blogs grum­bling the way they do when­ever two or more bands are doing the same thing.

this band actually started as just one girl (not this one)

But enough talk. Here, take a moment to listen to the mer­ci­lessly catchy single that pre­ceded (and is included on) the album.

Dum Dum Girls — “Jail La La”

I both love and hate songs like this; I’m trying to listen to the whole album but I keep coming back to this one track. It’s not fair to take advan­tage of my com­plete lack of musical willpower like this, not when there’s a groovy, unlikely cover of Sonny & Cher’s “Baby Don’t Go” waiting for me at the end of the album!

But that’s not to say the rest of the album is weak. Once past that track, I found “Rest of Our Lives,” a low-tempo little tune that exudes loss and nos­talgia. This is imme­di­ately fol­lowed by its total oppo­site, “Yours Alone,” a song of cliché puppy love with a chorus that erupts with fuzzy naïve bliss. And there’s the title track, “I Will Be,” which is impres­sive for its suc­cess in sounding exactly like some lo-fi 1960s girl group anthem.

I Will Be was released on March 30th, so go over to Sub Pop Records and pick it up now if this sounds good to you.

Our Triumphant Return, or: From Girlpants, with Love

THIS MUCH
It wouldn’t be hyper­bolic to say we’ve had some shakeups at the Girl­pants offices. When I say offices, I mean offices: we had some pretty nice ones, but we lost them in an ill-considered card game that big time hus­tlers Joel and Mike ini­ti­ated against a rival blogful of poker-shark web jour­nal­ists. Then sev­eral hard, unmu­sical years passed, and we could nary afford a seven-inch as we lived on oat­meal packets, the paltry nickels from our free­lance stump grinding, and what­ever Ben could scare up spanging by the highway on-ramp with his “Opin­ions: 25 Cents” sign. But our hard work (and the steel toes I had to pawn) paid off, because we finally col­lected enough min­utes on the internet café card to be able to print out the appli­ca­tion and–blessing of fiscal blessings–got that gov­ern­ment bailout. 
And now we’ve landed here, in the amore month, and we’re about to romance your ear-betweens with this love-themed mix. It’s not Valentine’s Day any­more, but who cares? Love is better late than never.

01: The Moun­tain Goats — “Cai Dao Blowout”
They say women look for their fathers in the men they date, which sounds like Freudian bull­shit to me. But they fuck you up, your mum and dad, and in “Cai Dao Blowout,” John Darnielle asks the peren­nial ques­tion of well-meaning boyfriends every­where: “When the ghost of your father comes to town, what the hell else can you do?” There’s a lot to like about this song: the way the ram­shackle banjo and organ give it a buzzy, backyard-summer-evening feel, the way the word ‘cit­ronella’ unfolds into an unex­pect­edly pretty sound, all the funny bush-devil antics (knocking over fur­ni­ture? Get­ting into the recep­tion on the wire­less? LOL?) But what really gets me is how affec­tionate it is. While JD writes bitter, loathing and doomed pitch-perfectly, he doesn’t always con­nect with the more heart­felt stuff. But he here man­ages to cap­ture a rare kind of sweet­ness: res­ig­na­tion at its lightest and warmest. This is a song about loving someone and wanting to do every­thing you can for them, even when you can’t do any­thing at all. Hardly the stuff of a valentine’s day crush, but we should be so lucky to be loved like this, in all of our stupid, help­less vul­ner­a­bility. (Mike)
02: Acid House Kings — “This Heart is a Stone”
I was never a big fan of Acid House Kings. Actu­ally, I’m still not a big fan of Acid House Kings. They make that kind of cutesy, innocuous, soundtracked-pop that makes me think of a teeny kitten get­ting smoth­ered by a soft, marsh­mallow pillow (a familiar night­mare for all, I imagine). I con­fuse them with just about every other Swede combo/trio/quartet (well, maybe not ABBA); I hit “skip” every time one of their songs ruins a sweet run of blissed-out glo-fi (rare); I think I made a mean face at Nina Persson when I thought I saw The Cardi­gans out­side a Jiffy-Lube last week (doubtful). Yet need­less to say, I still listen to the Acid House Kings, and now find myself putting “This Heart is a Stone” on a crummy love-mix for cranky hip­ster people. And this is a song about cranky hip­ster love, about hearts cal­ci­fied into small pockets of coal. On the opening bounce, Julia Lan­ner­heim begins “They say your middle name is ‘Trouble’ / but I know it’s Car­o­line” and “They say that you only bring heartache / but I know you brought a bottle of wine,” that self-knowing delivery sug­gesting the type of tongue-in-cheek play­ful­ness that is so tongue-in-cheek it’s like there’s a smaller tongue inside a smaller cheek tucked away inside. Cou­pled with that long pause right before the insta-classic chorus (“This heart is a stone / no one will ever break it / this heart is a stone / just for you it breaks easily”) and you’ve got mix­tape fodder for years of catty Car­o­lines who are lookin’ for the right guy to cleave that heart-shaped car­bonate rock. (Joel)
03: First Aid Kit — “Hard Believer”
This song puts me in a corny but gen­uine mood. I want to believe there is a bit of Emmylou influ­ence in the singing style of the Swedish sis­ters that make up First Aid Kit, and lis­tening to the crys­talline melody and har­mony makes a state­ment even as brash as this one pretty easy to back up. But though most of the other songs lack the nec­es­sary melan­choly, “Hard Believer” delivers and that’s the reason to pick this song off their debut, The Big Black and the Blue. “And it’s one life / and it’s this life / and it’s beau­tiful” – these are not com­plex lyrics, but set in the frame­work of this melody, they’re words that you want to wail when you’re drunk. And love, like the best Amer­i­cana, should be spoken plainly and timed as tight as a rope walk. (Niina)
04: The Shondes — “Make it Beautiful”
From the Shondes’ upcoming album My Dear One, which is one album I’m highly antic­i­pating. The gor­geous blend of riot grrl and clas­sical instru­men­ta­tion is what makes their sound, and this song, so fucking irre­sistible that I can’t even make a halfway decent metaphor to describe it. The Shondes have a spe­cial magic with melodic break­downs, and this song is no excep­tion, with its self-conscious lyrics about struc­ture. Singer Louisa’s voice makes the instruc­tion “let’s make it beau­tiful” seem more like a com­mand than a coax, and I’m totally along for the ride. (Niina)
05: Pia Fraus — “Loveloops”
It’s tough not putting this song in the mix, although I know what it’ll do to my rep­u­ta­tion: make my col­leagues pin me for some sort of sappy, depres­sive, aspiring song-smith who thinks any and every song with the word “love” in it means that the “spe­cial feeling” is some­where buried in that com­po­si­tion (please take note the rep­e­ti­tion “and again / and again / and again” that loops into sunny hys­teria at the end of the song, and fur­ther note that I don’t own no song-smithy). Here I appeal to higher reason: Pia Fraus is a band all about feeling music, and After Summer is one of those records that has a feeling of its own. I put “Loveloops” here knowing its bright synth leads and soft boy-girl vocals don’t lend to the lovelorn atmos­phere of a few of the other cuts — the heady-drone tracking from begin­ning to end like a wave of August heat,an ambient nos­talgia in each note — but with hopes that it’ll serve as sanc­tuary from the trials and tribu­la­tions of love lost. (Joel) 
06: Why? — “Good Friday”
Awe­somely named band frontman Yoni Wolf is some­thing of a spe­cialist in heart­break and longing. Having made an entire album’s worth of songs about those two sub­jects in Ele­phant Eye­lash (also: family, drugs, sui­cide, and death in gen­eral), he turned around and made another, even better, album about the exact same stuff with Alopecia. Like most of my favorite lyri­cists, Yoni has the rare ability to employ seem­ingly non­sen­sical, or at least impres­sion­istic and scat­ter­shot, verse to sneakily dev­as­tating effect. “Good Friday” is about many things, in that it covers a pretty stun­ning array of scenes and moments for a song that runs just under four minutes–but at its base, this song is about the process of assim­i­lating the loss of love. A litany of the ways the nar­rator tries to forget, the lyrics are at the same time inter­mixed with admis­sions of pain and con­fu­sion as well as fonder rem­i­nisces, leading to a con­clu­sion in which he gives the girl the best sendoff he can muster. In a round­about way, it covers the entire breadth and depth of a rela­tion­ship in the space of a pop song. (And hey… the music is awe­some, too.) (Ben)
07: Xiu Xiu — “Choco­late Makes You Happy”
Then again, in the vagueries of romance, there is very little solid. As we dart through the shades of delirious love-lorn innu­endo like gup­pies through a minia­ture ceramic diver mask, all the while we secretly long for some­thing obvious. Luckily there’s choco­late, which we can use to mash into our eat-faces when we don’t get that phone call we deserve. And even more luckily, Jamie Stewart’s new Xiu Xiu iter­a­tion drops this month, and it con­tains this dark and dance­able tidbit con­cerning choco­late. It may also con­cern depres­sion. It may also want to make you recon­sider being happy. But that’s not my issue, that. (Niina)
08: Rock­et­ship — “Naomi & Me”
“You were in my favorite band, Naomi under­stand I’ll do all I can…to love yoooou.” Let’s be honest, the best Valentine’s Day crushes are the ones you don’t actu­ally know. None of the blem­ishes and com­pli­ca­tions of speech–why write lyrics when you have the hook in all of her pure, pop per­fec­tion? This is some­thing twee under­stood inher­ently, in all of its rad­ical ide­alism. Some­times all you have to do, as Rock­et­ship demon­strate, is sing along with the ‘Oooos.’ (Mike)
09: Love Con­nec­tion — “All Over”
I wanted to include some­thing on the mix that I’ve been dig­ging recently, and fig­ured (by name alone) that Love Con­nec­tion fit that bill. They’ve got their first record out now on Sen­sory Projects/Inertia, and after d/ling it on a fan­ciful whim (I was cheery that day), it’s been on con­stant rota­tion in my bed­room. What I know about Love Con­nec­tion I’ve gleaned from their Myspace page and an inter­view on Mess + Noise: Dean Noble, Kobi Simpson (who is adorable), Nathan Burgess, and Michael Caterer are from Mel­bourne, and they play music. I’m fond of label­mates Minus Story, and I’ll use their frantic, wide-eyed, frac­tured psych-pop as a frame of ref­er­ence: they are not sim­ilar at all. Instead they remind me of Mojave 3 and Mir­acle Fortress, with that same hazy, whirling hum cir­cling each finely-tuned track. Spoiler alert: “All Over” is the last song on their album. From that breathy line “I love / the way / you talk / to the friends / inside / my heart,” “All Over” grows and grows in warmth, building to a fuzzy wash of synth paired with a meticulously-patterned, clean guitar line. It man­ages to be sweeping and big while sounding tiny; it’s the part of our mix that will prob­ably make you feel tin­gling under your nice button-up shirt when thinking about a girl. (Joel)
10: jj — “My Love”
11: jj — “Intermezzo”
A low-level buzz band that snuck into the eardrums of a few lis­teners last year and refused to leave, jj are a mys­te­rious act from Sweden, but you’d never be able to tell that from their sound (accent aside). Like their label­mates Air France and groups like Lind­strom and Studio, the anony­mous act incor­po­rate ele­ments of what has come to be known as the Scan­di­na­vian balearic sound. I’m not enough of a spe­cialist in this genre to be able to tell you exactly what that means… just that I know it when I hear it. “My Love” is a simple pop song with lyrics that don’t aspire to much–a simple tale of love lost, but this time from the other side of the divide. Unlike Yoni Wolf’s emo­tion­ally crip­pled pro­tag­o­nist, this one is empow­ered enough to tell her former lover that the “next time you see me; you better stand in line.” “Inter­mezzo” is an instru­mental outro that car­ries “My Love” to a charm­ingly ram­shackle con­clu­sion. (Ben)
12: Flo­rence + the Machine — “You’ve Got the Love (XX remix)”
I dunno, I just imagine icy, coked-up Cupids floating over the beat, plucking their celes­tial harps. This remix is all pizzi­cato, really, from the two-step beat to those chirpy lasers and weirdly pre­cise tabla samples–a per­fect 180 from the ringing power chords and belted vocals of the orig­inal. And so with the sound, the feel. They take Flo­rence and the Machine’s exalting “you’ve got the love” and even it out into a groove, an encour­age­ment. If you’re too cool for valentine’s day–which, let’s face, would be pretty fucking cool–this’ll be playing during your makeout ses­sion in the club tonight. (Mike)
13: Genius Sir — “Girl U Want (Devo cover)”
“Girl U Want” is pretty simple and pretty dead-on in its assess­ment of the sort of blinders love (both in air quotes and out) can put on you. Inbe­tween the repeated chorus of “she’s just the girl you want,” the lyrics ele­vate said girl to “the top of the greenest tree,” from which she “sends out an aroma of unde­fined love; it drips down in a mist from above.” First recorded by Devo, this home­brew cover of the song was put together for the recent Hip­inion Totally or Totally Not: 80s com­pi­la­tion by boarder Genius Sir. To my ear, it some­what mirac­u­lously cap­tures and even improves on the manic energy and the barely masked hope­less­ness of the orig­inal, while sub­stan­tially upping the tempo. (Ben)

Get the mix in full (with spe­cial edi­tion cover art!) here:
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(links updated to cor­rect iTunes tagging/importing issue)