This Is Not a Love Song

In the seventh grade, I had a crush on a girl. Yes, alert the presses, a hormonal teenager had the hots for someone. Just as predictable, I was incredibly awkward and had no clue as to the ways of courtship. My experience with girls up that point had only progressed to hand-holding, and I wasn’t even particularly good at that. Kissing was an absolutely foreign concept (as my first lip wrassling partner would find out a mere year later). But, I somehow did master the idea of the shared love song. I may not have been schooled in the ways of love, but I was a young music snob, and I did understand romantic conceit.

So, even without a tacit relationship with said girl, I did assign a song to our unspoken bond. It was Chicago’s “You’re the Inspiration,” and it was our jam. She just didn’t know it, just as she probably had no clue as to my very existence. Every time I heard that song, “our song,” I’d get wistful and dreamy. I wasn’t really into Chicago, however. At that time I was a big fan of Prince, Oingo Boingo, Depeche Mode, U2, Simple Minds and the Psychedelic Furs. Yet, somehow I grasped the concept of the shared love song being something altogether sappy and contextually appropriate. I got that “Darling Nikki,” “Little Girls,” and “Lie to Me” were not the best choices for pubescent romantic anthems. But I somehow glossed over “Two Hearts Beat as One,” “Speed Your Love to Me” and either “Heaven” or “The Ghost in You.” Something inside of me told me to choose a song that was so direct, so unambiguous as to avoid any misinterpretation. Plus, I figured that Peter Cetera’s non-threatening falsetto would make girls weak in the knees. It still does, albeit with laughter. So, Chicago it was.

I would get better at this over the years, though there is something altogether innocent and charming about that first song. And no, “You’re the Inspiration” wasn’t even a particularly good song, even back then. In fact, once my friends got wind of this, I was teased mercilessly. They even requested the song at the next school dance, jeering at me the entire time. I had my revenge, however. While they were catcalling, I was asked to dance by a cute redhead. Suck on that, non-romantic troglodytes!

My question is, if I could get that concept as a confused teenager, blinded by rampaging adolescent desires, why can’t anyone else? If I had a nickel for every badly chosen ‘shared love song,’ I’d have ‘killing people and getting away with it’ money. It’d be one thing if the songs’ lyrics were ambiguous, or at least halfway close to being romantic. For instance, the Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” is a popular favorite. The first two verses alone would make this a credible option, but the last verse reads like an Ovid-like myth. Ummm, the sea stole your girl and drowned her inside of you? Okay, Orpheus, dramatic much?

No, I’m less concerned about the flowery and obtuse. What I am concerned with is the number of songs that outright defy the basic concepts of love, and yet, are still amongst the more popular ‘love songs.’ Hell, as my brother alluded to in his Wedding Songs feature, some of them are even bastardized in the name of holy matrimony. This madness has to end!

One of the more famously misinterpreted songs is the Police’s “Every Breath You Take.” On the surface, the song is a delicate ballad made only the more romantic by Sting’s signature sandpapery voice. Within the lyrics, however, hides (and not very furtively) an obsessive stalker. The girl in question has left our sad little lute-playing Englishman, and he just can’t let go. In fact, his words read like the handwritten letter of a man on the edge, one who will most likely plan an elaborate murder / suicide. It’s one of those “If I can’t have you, no one else will” scenarios. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on here. In fact, once a song hints at possession, i.e. “You belong to me,” it’s time to nix that track and move on. Hell, even the standard with that title by Dean Martin, Patsy Cline, Bob Dylan and about 800 others seems creepy by today’s standards.

R.E.M.’s “The One I Love” is another one that most people commonly get wrong. Everyday listeners just can’t seem to get past the first line of ”This one goes out to the one I love.” If they did, they’d get to the part that not only identifies the ‘one’ in question as being ‘left behind,’ and I don’t mean in a ridiculous rapture kind of way, though that song might be hilarious, but then also identifies that ‘one’ as a ”simple prop to occupy my time.” “The One I Love” is a song about using someone, or even multiple someones. Michael Stipe even described the song as being “incredibly violent.” So, stop using it as a love song! Sheesh.

For some reason, breakup songs are the most misinterpreted. Generally these sad and woeful tales are told from the point of view of the dumped, so naturally, there’s an inherent element of regret and thus romantic overtures are made. But, people keep missing the part where it’s O-V-E-R, pick up yo face and get to the bar. (Sorry, that didn’t have quite the same ring to it as ‘U-G-L-Y, you ain’t got no alibi,’ but give me some credit points, at least). Dolly and Whitney’s “I Will Always Love You,” Phil Collins’ “Against All Odds,” The Eagles’ “Best of My Love,” and the Cardigans’ “Lovefool” are all extraordinarily misguided ways people have chosen to express their love on mixtapes. The savvier recipient will wonder whether they’re being wooed or being jilted before anything has even begun. While we’re on this topic, almost any country song would be a bad choice as most traditional country songs ARE breakup songs. Ditto anything by Fleetwood Mac from 1975-1987.

(One more aside) Also, can anyone explain to me why Green Day’s “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” is constantly used in ironic contexts? I’ve heard it used many times for graduations, proms, etc. Heck, I even heard it played in a baseball stadium after the last game of the season. It’s a break-up song! It’s about moving on from something depressing and horrible. Oh wait, maybe it does make sense for high school and last year’s Mariners season. Zing! Not to have too many asides, but this also brings up my pet peeve of people getting song titles wrong. The proper song title is “Good Riddance” with the parenthetical “Time of Your Life” attached. (I don’t care what the single has printed on it). And, by the way, all you creepy gothy unwashed Charmed fans, it’s called “How Soon Is Now,” not “I Am Human.” Yeesh.

Even when songs seem tailor made for that special mixtape, they might not be. Specifically, avoid those songs that actually share the same name as your girl. Kiss’ “Beth” may sound sappy and emotional, especially as it is played like a ballad, but it’s apparently about how Peter Criss’ bandmate’s girlfriend was a huge nag and would always interrupt rehearsals. Essentially, the song is less a love song and more of a sarcastic ‘get off my bro’s back’ kind of song. Avoiding “Alison” is also recommended. Elvis Costello has notoriously never revealed the meaning of the lyrics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure that this is a song that is massively filled with regret. I suppose if your name is Sheena, everything’s hunky dory.

Of course, it’s fairly easy for me to say all this now. I’ve made my own mistakes with love songs in the past. Sure, I claimed to have it all together in seventh grade regarding that special shared song, but what I didn’t tell you how I flubbed it nearly every time out after that. The very next year, when I got together with my aforementioned ‘first lip wrasslin’ partner’, John Hughes soundtracks were all the rage. (Oh, by the way, memo to Wikipedia, when I’m trying to look up John Hughes, I really don’t think the Catholic archbishop from 1797-1864 ranks high on anyone’s list of preferences). Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science and Pretty in Pink had all been released with the latter being a massive touchstone in many adolescents’ musical pasts. (Oddly, a soundtrack never came out for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off). As such, my friends and I were really into OMD, and their recent album, Crush. For the first relationship in which I employed the art of French Kissing, I chose their song, “Hold You.” Because of the ballad-y nature of the song, the title, a sense of longing, and the frequent use of typical ‘love song’ words, I thought it the perfect choice. However, on closer inspection, vocalist Paul Humphreys refers to the girl in question as a ‘foolish child,’ and the girl is actually with another guy! It’s a song of jealousy, and the singer only wanting her because he can’t have her! Oh, what was I thinking? Naturally, the song became prophetic as I was unceremoniously dumped and she started a relationship with a guy from another school.

There would be many instances of getting these songs wrong as time went on. In some instances, it had nothing to do with the original intention of the singer. Huh? Once, I was on the receiving end of a mixtape that included Kate Bush’s “The Man With the Child in His Eyes.” Kate Bush wrote the song when she was only thirteen. As such, it’s filled with wonder and awe, told from the point of view of a girl dreaming about an idealized lover. But, to be fair, it’s had many interpretations. What I had forgotten, or repressed until now, was that my girlfriend at the time had an obsession with Peter Pan. What I had also forgotten was that I was a virgin before I met her and that I was specifically introduced to a girl who was ‘experienced,’ once my friends learned of my action-figure like state of ‘unopened package.’ In giving me this song, she was basically emasculating me while giving into her own indulgences of ‘educating a “Lost Boy.”’ Now, where did I leave my therapist’s phone number? Sigh.

I would later inadvertently make an altogether different mistake on a mix CD I would compile for a later girlfriend. I knew the girl liked Tori Amos. She had practically every release by her and I found that I had one rare song taped for a benefit by a radio station in L.A. that she didn’t have. The song was “Icicle,” and in my defense, I had no idea it was about masturbation. Yikes. That’s not exactly the type of song with which you want to woo your fair maiden. I don’t know what happened. This is what usually becomes of poor research. I’m usually so good with that! I knew all about “She Bop,” “Blister in the Sun,” “Pictures of Lily” and “Turning Japanese,” how did I miss this one? I guess I had not ever tapped that other vein. Maybe someday I’ll take another whack at it. All these mistakes! I’m so sick of pulling these boners.

In the end, I guess it can happen to anyone. The lesson is, research, research, and research. Use context clues! Don’t forget what you were taught for your SAT’s! Words are tricky; they can mean practically anything! That song you may think is a love song is not. (Though P.I.L.’s “This is Not a Love Song” has some hilarious innuendo at the end). Though, there is something to be said for the bliss of ignorance. Just ask my buddy Dan, who informed me that Van Morrison’s classic hit, “Brown Eyed Girl” is about anal sex. Now, every time I hear that song, I giggle like an idiot.

Treblezine: Underrated Blog-a-Thon Late Entry

At this point, I’ve not only abandoned my blog for nearly three months, I’ve also missed the deadline for my friend Jamie’s “Underrated Blog-a-Thon.” But, I was so intrigued by the idea, I just couldn’t resist. At first, I could not choose my subject. I write about music on a regular basis, having already championed many underrated albums. Almost every book I truly love could be considered underrated, and I couldn’t decide on any one film. So, I thought I’d try to look elsewhere. Maybe I could write about an underrated baseball player. But, other than giving some stats, a personal anecdote or two, and merely saying they’re underrated, I had nothing. But then it came to me.

In the brainstorming process of all things ‘underrated,’ I tried to recall the things I truly regret not having reached a wider audience. In doing so, I realized there was only one subject I could choose. Treblezine. Self serving? Sure. A little egomaniacal? Maybe, but not really. I realize that a lot of you may have no idea what I’m talking about, so I’ll start with a little background history.

Over five years ago, the fall of 2003 to be slightly more precise, my youngest brother, Jeff, called me. He was in San Diego and I had just moved to Seattle. Jeff had just graduated from San Diego State, where he was the entertainment editor for the Daily Aztec newspaper, and now out of school, wanted to embark on a new endeavor. On the phone, he asked me if I wanted to start an online music magazine. There was no hesitation. I was in. I, myself, had been looking for a writing outlet, and was still obsessed by new music. There was no way I could say no. But what began that fall has been a journey I wouldn’t trade for anything.

We seemingly knew exactly what we wanted for Treblezine from the very beginning. (Let me just insert here that Jeff is the true talent behind Treble. It was his brainchild. He is the managing editor. He writes the lion’s share of the reviews. He organizes the submissions for review, the writing assignments and practically everything else. There are a few things I can point to as mine, namely specific columns and features I created, but for the most part, when I say ‘we’ when talking about Treble, I’m mostly talking about Jeff. I thought you ought to know. I should also at this point give many many thanks to Matt, yet another Terich brother, who designed the site and made it so darn pretty and user friendly.)

We knew we wanted the standard format of posting daily reviews. We knew it wasn’t a blog, like this one, but instead an actual commercial magazine to be taken seriously in critical circles and in the marketplace. In fact, you may be surprised to know that Jeff’s original concept was to eventually turn the webzine into a print magazine. We knew we wanted to do regular features and columns, items that would keep loyal readers coming back. Those have certainly changed along the way, some have stayed, and we’ve introduced some that have since become favorites, but the concept was solid from the beginning. To me, and I think I speak for Jeff as well, the most important aspects of Treblezine were the writing and the lack of number ratings.

There is no denying that Pitchfork is the grandfather of all indie music webzines. But, I think the biggest reason for their early success is not necessarily that they were the best, it’s that they were the first. The same can be said for a lot of internet enterprises such as Amazon and eBay. The resulting pressures of staying on top, with the addition of sudden income with which to fund the process, tend to fuel further progress. And thus, Pitchfork has produced some amazing writers over the years. The shame of it all is that thousands upon thousands of Pitchfork’s ‘loyal readers’ do quick hit and runs on the album reviews, merely looking at the number rating and then abruptly leaving. Jeff and I found that absurd. First of all, number ratings are completely arbitrary. (And I must say at this point that I’ve already addressed this concept in a review for Tetuzi Akiyama’s Pre-Existence, which was subsequently used for Treble’s “About” page.) So, I won’t go into the absurdity of comparing a Jay-Z album with, say, a Nick Cave album, which inadvertently happens when you give each a specific number rating. Anyway, the other idea behind the lack of number rating was that we wanted to avoid the hit and run. We wanted people to actually read what we had spent a good deal of time writing. After all, when you’re trying to find more about a particular album of interest, would you rather read or hear an in-depth analysis, including comparisons, impressions, and personal anecdotes, or would you rather simply see that it was given a 7.2?

I’m selfishly calling Treble ‘underrated’ because of our traffic in relation to other sites of this ilk. A lot of this is our own fault. None of us are marketing geniuses. We don’t know how better to reach indie music fans. We’ve made tremendous strides over the five plus years of Treble’s existence. In fact, we’ve had readers all over the world. We’ve had strong growth in readership. We’ve also found a great deal of our wonderful writers by simply existing. Jeff and I put a lot into Treblezine. (Emphasis on the Jeff). We put our hearts and souls into it. We make no money from Treble. Sure, we have great partnerships with Insound, iTunes and we at last have some advertisers, but I’d venture to say that the income from said sources doesn’t even cover the costs of site hosting and the postage it takes to mail CD’s to our writers all over the world. We’d love it if more people read it, for sure. We’d really love to make a living doing this. However, regardless of our numbers, and regardless of a lack of profit, we continue to create Treble. Why? Because we have a passion for music that cannot be contained. Music fuels us. And I’d like to think that it shows in our writing.

After five years, you’d think that maybe we’d become jaded about the music industry. There is certainly an element of that in our lives. But I won’t turn this into a diatribe on the industry. I’ll simply say that music has overwhelming capacity to astonish. No matter how many derivative albums we might hear in succession, there is always a brilliant light at the end of the tunnel, and that light is so overwhelming, we don’t even care if it’s a train. Case in point, the new Decemberists album.

But, to get back on track, this is a plea. If you love music, or have a friend who loves music, we simply ask that you tell them about our site. We’re quite proud of it. We feel that the past five years have only made it better. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what we could do with it if we could work on it full time. Ah, perchance to dream.