Twelve Months of Music, Part 2: A February Mix
Feb 01 '06
The Bottom Line Twenty-eight days summed up in fifty-seven minutes of music.
If there's a red-headed stepchild amongst the dysfunctional family that is the typical year, it's February. After all, it gets short changed on days in comparison with all of its siblings, and the calendars can even be consistent with the number of days it actually has. And just look at what comes to mind whenever people discuss the month. Bleak, dreary, depressing - the days may be getting longer and longer, but no one passed the memo on to mother nature, and she gives us some of the worst snowstorms and some of the longest stretches of overcast days during the year.
Sure, February may have Valentine's Day to balance out some of the month's deariness, but consider the month's other big name holidays - Groundhog Day, President's Day - misfit holidays if ever there were.
Yeah, it can be hard to capture all the complexities of February in one concise definition. The handful of carefree, sentimental highlights buried in an avalanche of dreary, bleakness. But to make an attempt to sum up the month as best as possible, here are a dozen songs that, for me at least, encompass the spirit of that misfit month February.
American Pie by Don McClean
Those languid piano chords that open the song. The wistful sense of loss and nostalgia in the vocals. The slow building energy tempered by feelings of an innocence that will never be recaptured. Even if American Pie weren't written to commemorate the February third accident that claimed the lives of Buddy Holly, Richie Valenz, and the Big Bopper, the song would still have February written all over it. Through all the song's obtuse lyrics, there's a bleak sense that we'll manage to muddle through all the pain and woe we may be suffering around us, but that we'll never be able to get back to the glory days. With February's frequent stretches of bleak, overcast days, that's just the way this month can make us all feel.
♬ I met a girl who sang the blues
and I asked her for some happy news
but she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred story
where I heard the music years before
but the man there said the music wouldn't play ♬
Snowbound by Donald Fagen
For all it's bleak, austere days, February can offer some breathtakingly beautiful weather. Few things can compare to waking up the day after a blizzard to see a think blanket of unbroken snow, sparkling in the sunlight that pokes through the early morning clouds. There's something undeniably crisp and fresh about those mornings, just like there's something crisp and fresh about Fagen's song. With the light, staccato plucking on the electric guitar, the cascading electric piano riffs, the soft horns that fluff up the background, the leisurely swagger of the tempo, and Fagen's languid jazz crooner vocals, the song has that same "frozen in time" feeling that we get on mornings when the weather is just stating to clear up, but there's still enough snow burying the city to force all the business and schools to shut down for the day.
♬ snowbound, let's sleep in today
wake me up when the wolves come out to play
heat up these white nights
we're gonna turn this town into a city of lights ♬
Ocean Breathes Salty by Modest Mouse
It's not uncommon for February to evoke the feeling that we've all floating out in the open, flailing, and untethered. The big flashy start to the year is over and done with, and few people have managed yet to settle down and find some focus to give purpose to the rest of the year. It's surreal to feel so lost so early in the year, and Modest Mouse capture that off kilter, dreamlike state sublimely in Ocean Breathes Salty. Through the densely layered arrangements of guitars drenched in reverb and distortion and the ethereal, surreal keyboard riffs, Isaac Brock leads us along a path of obsessive uncertainty and exasperated dreaming, like some sort of deranged pied piper. There's a divine madness to the song, not unlike the feeling of floundering with the bulk of the year stretching out before us, completely unaware of where we're heading.
♬ the ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?
in your head, in your mouth, in your soul
and maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both grow old
I don't know, I don't know, I hope so ♬
Crime of the Century by Supertramp
There's something about February that invites quiet introspection - a time to look back upon ourselves and ask if everything we've done has been worth it. And on those days of minimal sunlight, when there's gray, dingy snow lining the streets and a bitter wind that cuts right through to the bone, it can be hard to answer that question in the affirmative. Crime of the Century makes me feel the same way as those short, overcast February days. The slow, simple piano chords. The sweeping minor key orchestral arrangements. The slow dirge tempo. The cold, distant feeling in the guitar solos. Everything blends together into a package that can really make us question if there's really anything out there worth looking forward to in the end.
♬ now they're planning the crime of the century
well what will it be
read all about their schemes and adventuring
it's well worth the fee
so roll up and see
how they rape the universe
how they've gone from bad to worse ♬
Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi
Yes, I know what you're thinking. Livin' on a Prayer is far too loud, far to brash, and far too hard rockin' to have anything to say about the month of February. In this case, though, we're not dealing with the familiar version from the eighties, but rather the brand new arrangement that Bon Jovi created for his self-cover project This Left Feels Right. With softly haunting synth riffs covering the rhythm line, acoustic guitar lines that quietly resonate, and minimalist drum loops that give the song a cold, mechanical grace, it's a perfect translation of the song to capture the downbeat, dour feelings of February. It's restrained and introspective, remorseful and hopeful and desperate, all at the same time.
♬ we've got to hold on to what we've got
it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not
we've got each other, and that's a lot for love
we'll give it a shot ♬
Downtown Train by Tom Waits
There are plenty of flashy, clichéd love songs rear their heads every year for Valentine's Day, but with all their cheap, sappy theatrics, they all do as good a job of capturing the somber spirit of the whole month of February as thee coyote does of capturing the roadrunner in all those cartoons. Nope, any love song that's going to channel the spirit of February needs to be somber and stern, with a sense of desperation, futile obsession, and painful uncertainty. Enter Tom Waits and his oft-covered gem Downtown Train. With its downbeat tempo, its muted rhythm guitar lines, its sharply glowing solos, and Waits' signature vocals, gruff, gravely, and whiskey soaked, the song is drapes itself in all of the grim, overcast despondency of the dark winter days of February, without ever loosing its hope of finding some sort of human connection out there in the dark night.
♬ outside another yellow moon
punched a hole in the night time
I climb through the window and down the street
shining like a new dime
the downtown trains are full
with all those Brooklyn girls
trying so hard to break out of their little world ♬
Mercy Mercy Me by Marvin Gaye
The song is soft and mellow, with a warmth to the soulful arrangements and the vocals, but hidden underneath the surface, there's a cool sense of detachment - a world weariness and sense of remorse over the current state of the world. Just look at some of the song's musical elements, from the fatness of the sax solo to those soft, jangly rhythm guitar chords to the vocal oooh's that rise up from the background to the mellow percussion line. Together there the thick, fuzzy blanket that keeps us warm on those chilly February nights. And then there's the song's subject matter. Gaye's reminders of the ever increasing woes of the human condition still manage to cut through that warm blanket like a cold draft that can't be escaped no matter how well we weather proof the house. A constant reminder of just how complex and contradictory the month can be.
♬ oh, mercy mercy me
things ain't what they used to be
no, no
where did all the blue skies go?
poison is the wind that blows
from the north, east, south, and sea
oh mercy mercy me ♬
Bouree by Jethro Tull
In today's modern music scene, classical music can often feel like something frozen in time, some sort of museum piece to be put out on display without being touched. But leave it to the prog rock bands to put their grubby mitts all over the centuries-old melodies of classical music and breathe an entirely new life into them. That's what Jethro Tull did with Bouree, borrowing liberally from Johan Sebastian Bach's timeless melodies. As expected, Ian Anderson lets his flute carry the lead melody, and the results have a crisp, cold, pristine quality that conjure up memories of windswept evenings where everyone with any sense has chosen to stay in for the night. At the same time, the jazzy bass line and percussion rhythms lend the song an exotic air, keeping things interesting and reminding us of the myriad ways that people have of keeping life interesting while staying in on a cold winter's night.
♬ ... ♬
Memory Lane by Elliot Smith
It's another song that may feel a little too energetic and bouncy on the surface to fit February's somber tone, what with its frothy Tin Pan Alley arrangement on Smith's solo acoustic guitar, like something off of a vaudeville stage. But then again, February's occasional bright, sunny days do give us a few moments of cheery levity during the otherwise gloomy winter days. Take a closer listen to the song, though, and you'll notice that the mood underneath the music is positively bleak and grim. Paranoia, desperation, isolation, madness - they're all hallmarks of the cabin fever that grips so many of us while we're cooped up indoors during winter, and they're also the emotional themes that Smith dredges up to stand in stark contrast to the light, frothy, McCartney-esque feeling of the music.
♬ this is the place you'll end up when you lose the chase
where you're dragged against your will
from a basement on a hill
all anybody knows is that you're not like them
and they kick you in the head
and send you back to bed ♬
Wise Up by Aimee Mann
Just over a month into the year and it's time for people to start reflecting on where they've been and where they're heading. Time to look at the resolutions they've all made for themselves and to realize that many of them are just impractical. As depressing as the though is, February is a perfect time to give up and admit defeat before we waste too much of our time and energy. And Aimee Mann's slow, deliberate piano ballad, with the somber strings in the background and echoey percussion beats, is the perfect song to help us to realize that sometimes our hopes and expectations can be pipe dreams that hold us back from making any real progress in life.
♬ it's not what you thought
when you first began it
you got what you want
now you can hardly stand it
by now you know it's not going to stop
it's not going to stop
it's not going to stop
'til you wise up ♬
Fast Car by Tracy Chapman
Chapman's signature song is grounded in the same sense of fatalism and defeatism as Wise Up, the same idea that no matter how hard we work, the end results just aren't worth it. The soft folk rock strains that mark most of the song give us that same self-reflective feeling that life is just a dead end journey. The difference here, though, is that Chapman shows us some light at the end of the tunnel. There's a sense that escape to a brighter future out there if we can just run far enough away from the present. And the way the song explodes into a rich, energetic arrangement for the chorus mirrors the long dormant feelings of excitement that resurface at the end of the month once the days finally start to grow noticeably longer, bringing the promise of brighter days to come.
♬ I remember we were driving, driving in your car
the speed so fast I felt like I was drunk
city lights lay our before us
and your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder
and I had a feeling that I belonged
and I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone ♬
All I Want Is You by U2
A slow burning obsession. Gentle guitar chords that pile on little by little, building to sweeping strings, pounding drums, and soul-rattling vocals. A sweeping instrumental end to the song that seems to stretch out beyond the horizon. All I Want Is You is by no means a conventional love song, but it's a fine closer to our musical exploration of February. It's a song that lets all the long pent up, long repressed feeling burst out, little by little at first, but quickly building to an unstoppable assault. February can force many of us to pull back, dig in, and keep our emotions buried as we soldier through the winter, and All I Want is You mirrors that pressing need for relief that can't be denied as the month draws to a close.
♬ you say you'll give me eyes in a time of blindness
a river in a time of dryness
a harbor in the tempest
but all the promises we made
from the cradle to the grave
when all I want is you ♬
And thus our misfit month draws to a close. It may be the runt of the year, but its every bit as complex and intricate as its brethren. These dozen songs only begin to scratch the surface of what the month can mean.
Why stop here? Be sure to also have a look at:
January
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