Tag Archives: music

Garfunkel and Oates

Contrary to popular belief, my posts do normally have something of a point. This one does not, except to say, “These girls are hilarious.”

The girls who call themselves Garfunkel and Oates are two actresses named Riki Lindhome and Kate Micucci (IMDB tells me that Riki, the one who kind of looks like Michelle Williams, played Juliet, Logan’s friend on Gilmore Girls who said her “metabolism didn’t allow her to eat”). First, I found this video, which makes fun of annoying pregnant women. Thank God none of my friends are having kids yet, but everything they say about smug pregnant women is SO TRUE.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJRzBpFjJS8]
Then there’s this one, a medley of bad songs, which I loved even though I like quite a few of the songs they mock:

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tJRzBpFjJS8]
All their other songs are just as funny. They’re kind of like a female cross between Barenaked Ladies and Da Vinci’s Notebook.

Between the Lines and Behind the Doors

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I will eventually post about the election. In fact, I’ll probably post about it three times because I have multiple thoughts on it. But this is something that’s been on my mind that I need to get out, even though I’m tired and need to be getting to bed.

I’ve written about the book The Song Reader before. It’s something I think about a lot, whenever the lyrics of a song keep echoing in my mind. And, as anyone who’s Facebook friends with me knows, lately, the song I’ve been listening to over and over is “Between the Lines” by Sara Bareilles. It’s a song I’d heard before but hadn’t listened to closely until last week. There was a specific situation I applied it to, but then I thought about another situation that was very different but equally applicable.

But then I started thinking about the song in a more universal sense. How many things do we attempt to gain knowledge of by reading between the lines?

I remember reading this article in New York magazine, about how the Internet has caused a generation gap (young people are willing to bear their souls online; their parents aren’t). And after reading it, all I could think was…no one reveals everything online, even to their friends. No one.

Excuse my very cheesy analogy, but the Internet, if you will, is like an extremely large collection of doors. There are the doors that are open to everyone. There are the doors that are locked. There are doors that are locked to most people, but that someone has given you the keys to. And there are doors that are open, but that you probably wouldn’t have found if someone hadn’t led you there.

You could all probably figure out what I meant. We’ve all searched for our own open doors—what people can find out about us by Googling us. We Google ourselves, the people we date, the people we crush on. I sometimes Google my friends just for the hell of it. And we make the most of what we have when we run into a locked door—we see if we have mutual friends with someone whose Facebook profile is private, or check if someone’s posted on someone else’s wall. When someone gives us the key to a door, we read whatever we can into his or her goofy poses in photographs or cryptic Livejournal posts. And if we find our way to an open door we weren’t led to, we feel the need to justify it: “Oh, uh…I found your blog after so-and-so linked to it.”

The thing is, though, you could have access to every bit of information available online about a person and still not know anything important about him. While sometimes in this blog I’m just rambling about TV or whining about the T, sometimes it’s my attempt to be honest and just say what I’m thinking without having to say it out loud—and sometimes hoping that someone will read it and say, “OMG, I know EXACTLY what you mean!!!” (in a less annoying way, of course). But there are so many things I can’t put out there, even in writing, even knowing that this is a door that someone would have to be led to. If years from now, I were to look back on this blog as a record of what I was thinking and feeling at the time, I wouldn’t know the half of what was going on with me. The Internet makes it easier to tell some stories and harder to tell others, and there are some that I would love to be able to tell but know that I never will.

I wonder what people will read between the lines of this entry—or between the lines of my recent obsession with “Between the Lines.” Posting that little Facebook status update reminded me of the days in college when we’d post song lyrics on our AIM away messages, leaving people to read between those lines. The funny thing was that sometimes they read them completely wrong. I remember once, I had the lyrics to “Drive” by Incubus up, and I meant it as a kind of expression of independence and individuality. But my friend Jon saw it and immediately IMed me saying, “What’s wrong?” One person’s anthem of living fearlessly is another’s angry rant.

And to bring this post full-circle, that’s one interesting thing about song reading—the same song can’t mean the same thing to two different people. I recently found this from the author of The Song Reader, which helps you figure out how to read between the lines of your songs. It’s something that might help you figure yourself out when you know that the people reading your vague status updates and cryptic blog posts never will.

A Story That Might Not Mean Anything

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Warning: I try not to write about anything too personal here, but this is going to be more personal than most. I really hope that I don’t come off sounding like a moody drama queen, but it may be unavoidable.

A couple of years ago, I read a wonderful book by Lisa Tucker called The Song Reader. It’s about a woman who analyzes what’s going on in people’s lives based on the songs they listen to or that have been stuck in their heads, especially specific lines that stick out for them. Sometimes a song is a manifestation of your subconscious.

I won’t say too much more about the book, but it’s amazing how true it is. On my coworker’s last day of work, she said she had “Goodbye to You” by Michelle Branch, a song she doesn’t even like, stuck in her head. When I was going through a difficult time awhile ago, the song I kept listening to on repeat was Beth Hart’s “Leave the Light On,” which might have been my way of telling myself not to give up.

And then there’s the song that’s been stuck in my head lately: “The Story” by Brandi Carlile. And this is the line I can’t get rid of: “But these stories don’t mean anything if you’ve got no one to tell them to.”

In the context of the song, it’s a happy line—the next one is “It’s true, I was made for you.” But my subconscious never gets there.

Here’s a story I wish I had someone to tell. Last Friday, after getting out of work early for a summer Friday, I didn’t know what to do. Then I thought, why don’t I go walk along the beach in South Boston? I’ve never been there, and it might be a cool place to explore. So, by myself, I took the bus, and to get to the beach, I had to walk across a field. On the other side of the field was a man with a dog, which he had taken off the leash. It was a fairly small dog, and I’m not sure what kind—probably mixed breed. But anyway, the dog saw me walking across the field, ran over to me, jumped on me, and slightly bit me. (Before you worry, it was a superficial wound, and I’ve since gone to the doctor, gotten a tetanus shot, and put on a rabies vaccine, so I’m fine.) The dog’s owner was apologizing and saying that the dog never does this. I was too in shock to ask for the owner’s name and phone number, which I probably should have done.

But then, when I did get over the shock, I just thought, No one is here. I just got bitten by a dog, and no one is here.

This happened after a few weeks of me feeling increasingly lonely. There are times when it hits me that I’ve been single my entire life, and this is one of those times. I mean, forget having someone to grow old with, have kids with, celebrate Valentine’s Day with, split the cost of a one-bedroom apartment with (seriously, I found myself wanting to be in a relationship for that specific reason while I was looking for a new apartment), etc. Sometimes, I just want to be in a relationship for the companionship. It would be really nice to have someone to whom I mattered enough that I could just call him and say, “Hey! Some random dog just bit me!” Or someone who would make the time to go to the beach with me. Or, for that matter, go to Restaurant Week or a bar I’ve been meaning to try or the BC-Notre Dame game with me. And someone whom I’d accompany to whatever he wanted to do, and whom I’d listen to if he called me after getting bitten by a dog. Someone who would always be there for me, whether I want to go out and do something fun or stay in and watch Friends reruns, whether I want to share a funny story or vent about the annoying people on the T.

It’s not that I don’t have friends—I do—but they all have their own lives, and I can’t bother them with all the good and bad things going on with me. I think one problem I have, and one that I’ve struggled with in the past, is that I don’t feel that I’m necessary in many people’s lives. I mean, there are certainly people who like me, but not too many who would notice my absence and say, “Wow, too bad Katie’s not here!” And when you’re in your twenties, so many people’s lives are in flux—people are moving away, changing jobs, going back to school—that it’s nice to have a constant presence in your life, someone you can depend on to care about you. I really just want someone who makes me feel necessary—not in a needy, codependent way, and not in a cheesy, Jerry Maguire, “You complete me,” way, but in a way that makes me feel confident that he’ll always enjoy my company, always listen to what I have to say, and know that I’ll always feel the same way about him.

Like I said, I don’t want to come off sounding whiny and dramatic, because realistically, I don’t think I’m doomed to a lifetime of singlehood. I’m only twenty-four, and plenty of people my age are still single. And it’s not like I hate being alone—I’ve always been good at enjoying the pleasure of my own company. But there was something I saw on the T last week that made me pause: a girl and a guy who I think were BU students and who were cute in the way of couples who are friends as well as romantic partners. They were affectionate, but not in a really obvious, disgusting way, and they were having a good time making fun of each other as they talked. At one point, the guy started telling the girl something, and she said, “I’m sorry—but you’ve already told me this story about ten times, and it’s not that interesting.” Then they both laughed, and kissed a little bit. I loved that they were comfortable enough with each other that they could say that.

That’s what I want. At the end of the day, I think that’s what most of us want—someone whom we can tell our stories to. Even if he’s already heard them ten times and they’re not that interesting.

Katie Recommends: Mika

Music Snobs Need Not Apply

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Two things that happened last week: the Grammy Awards and Valentine’s Day. And this is how the combination of those two things led me to write this entry.

I actually almost forgot about Valentine’s Day—I was too busy thinking about the snow that day, and whether I’d have the day off from work, and whether my sister would make it to North Carolina for her swim meet. (She didn’t; she got stuck at Logan for twelve hours before her flight was cancelled and she had to take a train to DC and a bus to Chapel Hill.) And given the second word in my blog title, I had no reason to remember V-Day.

It’s easier being single on Valentine’s Day when you’re not in college and don’t have to see couples everywhere. But it got me thinking about some things with relationships.

I’ve never done online dating (although I’m not ruling it out for some point in the future), but I remember reading this article where the author talked about how being able to sort profiles by the characteristics you want in a partner has influenced people’s choosiness even in dating situations that begin in the 3-D world. She mentioned a friend whose date completely wrote him off upon finding out that he had a roommate. And while it’s good to be picky, casting a guy aside for something like that is ridiculous. There’s no formula for the perfect guy. Sometimes people who seem completely different end up forming long and happy relationships. I think really sometimes all it takes are one or two important, essential things that you have in common to make a relationship work.

Now, I definitely have standards and ideal qualities that I look for. When it comes to intangibles, the guy I end up with has to be kind, patient, happy, a good listener, and a good friend. Ideally, he loves his family, is good with kids, has a beautiful smile, reads a lot, and can sing. And hopefully we agree on politics, religion, and baseball.

But what about the deal-breakers? Most of the things I want in a guy are things that I could, conceivably, live without. But there are a few things on which I’m absolutely inflexible.

I won’t date a guy who smokes, period. I won’t date a guy who does drugs, even pot. I won’t date an alcoholic. I won’t date anyone with any kind of mental issues he hasn’t worked through (which may sound harsh, but I’ve seen firsthand that people who haven’t gotten their shit together are in no way ready for relationships). If he’s a Yankee fan, he better be absolutely perfect in every other way (kidding…I think).

And one more thing. I absolutely refuse to date a music snob.

I’m serious. Music snobs piss me off beyond all reason. I cannot stand people who get self-righteous about their taste in music—which, unfortunately, is true of a lot of people.

I don’t know why it’s just music. People don’t usually think less of you if you watch stupid reality shows or cheesy horror movies. But if you listen to popular music, or anything that doesn’t fit into a music snob’s narrow window of what’s acceptable, there are people who will actually judge you as a person.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I do understand the concept of guilty pleasures. Have you seen the favorite music listed under my blogger profile? I’m well aware that much of it is uncool, like most things about me. But there’s a big difference between good-natured teasing about someone’s musical tastes and actually looking down on someone for that reason.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what separates music snobs from the rest of us, and this is what I came up with. First of all, for the most part, music snobs hate anything popular. If it’s on the radio, it’s crap. If it’s in the top 40, they won’t touch it with the giant poking device from Friends. And if it’s making money, well, God forbid.

Now, to some extent, I can understand this. I don’t like a lot of the music currently dominating the charts, and it’s true that much of pop music is overproduced and overplayed (although if I like a song, I like it no matter how many times I hear it). But popular does not equal evil. The amazing thing is that a lot of times, if an obscure band becomes popular, music snobs will abandon it. That makes absolutely no sense to me. Shouldn’t they be happy that people are listening to music they like? But they’re usually not. They’re upset that the stupid masses are ruining their favorite band, and that the band will become uncool by association, which is such crap. I think that music snobs really revel in being contrary. They’re like people who purposely don’t root for the home team for no reason other than being different.

Another thing about music snobs is that they’re excessively concerned with genre. “Oh, Band A are such posers. They’re so not punk.” “Band B is not indie! Stop calling them that!” Ugh.

Genres have always confused me, particularly genres of rock. I took a quiz once called “What Genre of Rock Are You?” and honestly, I don’t get what distinguishes one genre from another. Why does it even matter? I know that it’s human nature to categorize, but when I listen to a song, I don’t analyze it to death or try to figure out what category to put it in. All I think about is whether I liked the song or not.

Actually, maybe this is my whole issue with music snobs to begin with. I don’t really analyze music—I just think about whether or not I liked it. With a movie or a book, I can usually tell you exactly what I like or don’t like about it. With a song, sometimes I can tell you what it is about it that appeals or doesn’t appeal to me, but more often than not, I can’t. I like it or I don’t. And maybe that’s why it doesn’t make sense to me that some people are so dead-set on what’s good music and what’s not. I often can’t explain why a certain song appeals to me, so it offends me when someone tells me that it shouldn’t.

Finally, music snobs take their opinions as gospel. “So-and-so is the best bassist of all time. Everyone knows that.” “Band X is crap and Band Y are gods.” And they make a big deal over who “started” such and such a music trend. They’re like preschoolers whining, “He started it!” They get all wrapped up in how Band A influenced Band B. Aside from the fact that Band B may very well have improved what Band A started, who really cares? Similarly, who cares who writes the music as long as you like it? I really don’t see how who wrote the music is relevant. Even a lot of artists who write their own music don’t draw from real life, so I don’t get that argument.

The truth is that music snobs are like the popular girls in sixth grade who, if they didn’t like my outfit, would say, “Katie, why are you wearing that?” That may sound a little harsh, but I think it’s true.

The ironic thing about music snobs is that they want you to believe that they love music. But loving music doesn’t, in my opinion, mean constantly insulting it. It means being open to all types of music. It means being open to the ideas that happy, poppy songs can put you in a good mood even if they don’t make you think, that sappy ballads can genuinely move you, and that even if you don’t agree with it, there is a reason why popular music is popular.

I don’t understand why people get so caught up in hating music. There’s too much good music to harp on what you don’t like. Have you seen all the music pages on Myspace? There’s a ton of music out there, and most of it is worth at least one listen. Music snobs can think what they want, but I’ll go on listening to what I like. Because despite what anyone else may think, I do love music.

Or at least, I think I do. And if you think otherwise, go find another date.

Christmas On the Radio

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So…there are a lot of Christmas carols. Yeah, I know that’s kind of an obvious statement, but really, I was just thinking about it and I realized that if I tried to make a list of every Christmas carol I know, I don’t think I could do it. Even if I listed the 125 songs on my Christmas playlist, I know I’d still forget some.

But there are, of course, two categories of carols. There are the traditional carols, whether they be the religious ones (“Joy to the World,” “O Holy Night,” “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” “Away In A Manger,” “What Child Is This,” “Angels We Have Heard on High,” “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” etc.) or ones about Santa/family/Christmas prettiness (“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” “Silver Bells,” “Winter Wonderland,” “Sleigh Ride,” “The Christmas Song,” etc.).

But then there are the radio carols. The ones that a popular artist records to get some guaranteed airplay for a month. They may only marginally have to do with Christmas, and may not even completely make sense, but you still listen. Sometimes, you even grow to love them as much as the traditional carols.

Of course, there are some truly atrocious radio carols. “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer.” “The Twelve Pains of Christmas” (seriously, I want to strangle the guy hanging up the lights by the time the song’s over). I can’t stand “Santa Baby” no matter who sings it. And I went through a boy-band phase like every other girl of my generation, but for the love of God, NSync actually has a song that includes the lyrics, “I never knew the meaning of Christmas until I looked into your eyes.”

But there are some awesome radio carols, too. The ones that get stuck in your head. The ones you turn up when they come onto your car radio. The ones you dance around the room singing with your friends. You know what I mean.

Now, I don’t normally do top 10 lists. I’m not David Letterman, or even Greg Behrendt. But I do, as I’ve mentioned, have a 125-song Christmas playlist, so I figure that qualifies me as much as anybody to make this list. Here they are, in no particular order.

Mariah Carey, “All I Want For Christmas Is You”

This is the ultimate radio Christmas song. It’s one of those love-song-with-a-lot-of-Christmas-words-in-it tunes, and it’s perfect for blasting at full volume or singing at the top of your lungs.

Vince Vance & the Valiants, “All I Want For Christmas Is You”

Same title, same sentiment, totally different song. The first one is by the Queen of the ’90s and the Tabloids and goes, “I don’t want a lot for Christmas/There is just one thing I need/I don’t care about the presents/Underneath the Christmas tree.” This one is by some band no one’s ever heard of and goes, “Take back the holly and mistletoe/Silver bells on strings/If I wrote a letter to Santa Claus/I would ask for just one thing.”

John Lennon, “Happy X-Mas (War Is Over)”

Although the state of the world today makes it easy to focus on the “war” part, this song makes me happy. Actually, it makes me want to sway back and forth, maybe because I remember doing just that freshman year of college as I sang it with Christina and our friend Carr. If you really listen to it, the lyrics aren’t that great, but for some reason the first line draws you in.

Band Aid, “Do They Know It’s Christmas”

A whole bunch of famous people raising money for famine relief. Also a very nice song, except for one line that’s bugged me ever since I first heard it: “Well, tonight thank God it’s them instead of you.” …WTF? That is maybe the most poorly-worded line in a Christmas song ever. They want you to thank God that people are suffering because you’re not one of them? Doesn’t that line kind of defeat their whole point?

The Carpenters, “Merry Christmas, Darling”

I have a soft spot for this one. It’s deliciously cheesy and sappy, which makes it that much more fun to sing. It turns “Christmas” into a verb (“I’m Christmasing with you”) and includes the line “The logs on the fire fill me with desire.” Awesome.

Boney M, “Mary’s Boy Child”

More religious than the average radio carol, but just as catchy and fun. It’s by a West Indian group, and you can’t hear it without getting it stuck in your head.

Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan, “God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman/We Three Kings”

Bouncy and fun, and distinctively Barenaked Ladies. They actually have another version of this without McLachlan that doesn’t get radio play, and on that version they muse about the creepiness about the myrrh verse of “We Three Kings” before they sing it. (Seriously, have you ever listened to the words of that verse?)

Jose Feliciano, “Feliz Navidad”

I’ve liked this since hearing it on Sesame Street when I was little. I wanna wish you a merry Christmas from the bottom of my heart, and I wanna sing this song at the top of my lungs whenever I hear it.

Trans Siberian Orchestra, “Christmas Eve (Sarajevo 12/24)”

This is an awesome instrumental version of “Carol of the Bells” that’s very hard to describe unless you actually hear it.

“Christmas Is All Around”

I recently re-watched Love Actually (which, by the way, is much better upon second viewing), and this song is hilarious. It’s the song “Love Is All Around” with “Christmas” substituted for “love.” (Sample lyrics: “So if you really love Christmas/Come on and let it snow.”) It’s a radio Christmas song making fun of radio Christmas songs, so you’re not meant to take it seriously…but there’s something kind of endearing about it just the same.

Pure Bright Fire

Formerly a struggling single twenty-something