Song of the Week

Beirut's third album, The Rip Tide, feels like an old friend. Earthy, well-worn, and honest, the record sheds some of the sonic clutter from Nathan Condon's previous efforts. Check out the funny video for "Santa Fe," where a hapless chap receives some divine intervention.

R.E.M.

Few, if any, bands have had a ten-album run like R.E.M. From 1983's Murmur to 1996's New Adventures in Hi-Fi, Michael Stipe, Peter Buck, Mike Mills, and Bill Berry created something very special. The inventors of indie-rock? College-rock? Alternative music? One thing is certain: R.E.M. is one of the most important, authentic, and inspiring bands of the past thirty years. What else can you really say? Thanks, guys.

Tonight, The D Man plans on listening to Reckoning and Automatic for the People, two of my favorite R.E.M. records. Enjoy some great songs that I have gravitated to over the years, culled from right off the top of my head.

• Radio Free Europe (Murmur, 1983).
• Harborcoat (Reckoning, 1984).
• Finest Worksong (Document, 1987).
• Orange Crush (Green, 1988).
• Near Wild Heaven (Out of Time, 1991).
• The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight (Automatic for the People, 1992).
• Nightswimming (Automatic for the People, 1992).
• Electrolite (New Adventures in Hi-Fi, 1996).
• Imitation of Life (Reveal, 2001).
• Walk it Back (Collapse Into Now, 2011).

The Flaming Lips

They're just humans, with wives and children! A fount of triumphant humanism, The Flaming Lips rolled into town, awash in celebration. Balloons, confetti, lasers, strobe lights, smoke cannons, pink bunnies. The exploding accoutrements of the band's universe looked like mystic spheres, cosmic dust, and starbursts. You had to be there, for once, is the only fair way to describe the experience. And The D Man, Rip, Rizzo, and Stark the Vinyl Shark were there for every glorious second.

Years ago, The D Man wrote a poem for Wayne Coyne, the indie-titan and lead singer of Oklahoma City's greatest rock band, essentially providing a response to some of the universal questions that he posed on 1999's masterwork The Soft Bulletin. Fittingly, it is titled "For Wayne."

An untested hypothesis?

It is far more than that (and you know it)--

the accelerating universe

only expands on those same

chemical principles

that have fired in your brain

from the beginning

Love?

Hate?

Love?

Love.

The small explosions of neurons,

the electrical waves that travel

along a bundle of fibers,

the impulses and chemicals,

and the flaming lips that are never consumed--

they are more than a theory.

The feelings and dreams that orbit your brain

are descendants of the cosmos,

the children of the big bang.

What else can The D Man say, other than pointing out the obvious question: how many artists can evoke such a personal reaction? A poetic dialogue from a gushing fan? Really? To the concert!

• Worm Mountain. Wayne crawled across the crowd in his cosmic bubble. He came to rest right above us. He stood up inside the sphere as we held him aloft. We were a collective Atlas, carrying the fate of the entire planet on our shoulders. I should add that many Lip fans have died without ever holding the bubble. We felt so honored.
• She Don't Use Jelly. Totally ridiculous song. Totally works everytime. One of the most entertaining songs that you could ever hope to hear live, it is a bizarre treasure from the Lips always-interesting catalog. The alterna-hit thrust the Lips into the national consciousness, or at least the consciousness of weirdos everywhere.
• The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song. My kids love this song. What's not to like? So easy to sing.
• Vein of Stars. A pensive strummer, contemplating space and time itself. Stephen Drozd's guitar wailed with existential sadness.
• See the Leaves. A scary track from Embryonic. There were lots of cymbals crashing and drum fills banging.
• Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Pt. 1. Wayne turned this favorite into an intimate sing-along. There was no doubt that she could save us all. She's a black-belt in karate!
• Death Rays of the Sun.
• Pompeii Am Gotterdammerung.
• What is the Light? / The Observer. A cool track from The Soft Bulletin. The spacey bass-line kept it groovy.
• Race for the Prize. One of the most euphoric moments of The D Man's concert-going history. Don't believe me? Even the Japanese (see the video) understand the splendor of the woozy, off-kilter guitars and keyboards, the penultimate race for the cure. Rip and The D Man jumped in jubilation as the swell hit one of my favorite lyrical hooks in all of pop music: They're just humans, with wives and children!
• Do You Realize???. A massive celebratory send-off. Wayne talked about how some individuals in the audience were likely burdened by sadness, and how he was happy that they could come to the show and escape for a little while. It was touching and sincere. It was a call to reach out, to lift, to realize: The sun doesn't go down. It's just an illusion caused by the world spinning round.

Song of the Week

The future of music is here. Or at least the sound of the future. Chillwave, with its processed effects--vocals, synthesizers, loops--is a compelling reclamation project: sifting through the musical scrapheap of yesterday in order to build the sonic structures of tomorrow. Call it an Era Extrana. Neon Indian would. Enjoy "Polish Girl" from Austin, Texas' coolest cyborg. One thing we always learn in these videos: virtual love affairs are elusive. No wonder Max Headroom never had a girlfriend. (Check out a sweet live performance on "Fallon" last night).

Music and Memory

The D Man will always remember.

Just a few months earlier, I proposed to Mrs. D Man on the top of the Empire State Building. I gazed down Manhattan and admired the brilliant strength of those mighty towers. It was a beautiful and clear day in May, not unlike that day in September. I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me, surrounded by New Yorkers and tourists. She gave me the most excited hug of her life.

On September 11, 2001, my brothers were working downtown, on the 50th and 52nd floors, just a few blocks away. From his office, Rip saw the second plane hit and immediately made his way to his family in Brooklyn Heights. Separated in the chaos, Rizzo saw the towers come down from below. He made his way to the shoreline and walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, seeking out his brother, covered in the terrible ash from the unspeakable evil. For our family, like so many others, it was a day of anger, worry, and heartbreak.

Upon reflection, my emotions are still raw and can easily make their way to the surface. Ten years later, my thoughts go out to all of the brave men and women. To all of their families and loved ones. To this great country, so capable and full of goodness.

Enjoy Ryan Adams "New York, New York."

Five Things

(Philly's The War on Drugs)

• Need some rock? Check out the ringing tones on "Coming Through," a sweet new track from The War On Drugs. Or enjoy the angular, fuzzy riffing on concert-ready "Keep Me Waiting" from Cymbals Eat Guitars.
• Speaking of indie-rock guitar workouts, The D Man still pines for the accessible and arty guitar-doodles of Stephen Malkmus' 2001 solo debut. Thankfully, on Mirror Traffic, alongside his band The Jicks, Malkmus tones down the recently proggy fretwork and delivers something tighter, even breezier. Check out the video for "Tigers."
• Cass McCombs is releasing a second full-length in 2011. The new album is definitely not "The Same Thing."
• "All Alone." Not when you're freaking out with Toro y Moi.
• Check out track number one (below) from M83's forthcoming double-album, Hurry Up, We're Dreaming. Simply titled "Intro." Given that this massive-sounding song is the first thing listeners will hear on the new record, there is now little doubt that Anthony Gonzalez is moving beyond epic. Our friend Zola Jesus makes an awe-inducing appearance, too.

Intro (ft Zola Jesus) by M83

Song of the Week

Cool video for a killer track from Kaputt. Dan Bejar awaits. Hey Mystic Prince of the Purlieu at Night, I heard your record, it's all right.

Music and Memory

While eating lunch at a local brewery with a group of friends from work, Beth Orton's "Central Reservation" came on. I turned to Stark the Vinyl Shark and said, "I like this song," but he did not hear me because his onion rings were too distracting. Then, this morning during an early run, "Paris Train" hit at the right moment as the sun started to fracture in the mouth of the canyon. I said to myself, "I love this song." No one listened again.

The D Man picked up Beth Orton's Daybreaker in the fall of 2002, my last year of college. I remember listening to the album while going to a friend's football game, the air rich with leaves and schoolkids. "Concrete Sky" was the easy standout, with backing vocals from none other than Ryan Adams. (Johnny Marr was actually given a writing credit for "Concrete Sky," while Adams received one for "This One's Gonna Bruise."). There was a sense of hope in the hopelessness that I gravited to, and to this day, I really enjoy listening to that song.

Later that year, I told my critical theory professor that I listened to Orton. She brought up several female singers she enjoyed, so I felt compelled to give such an acceptable response. Orton's music surfaced again the next summer as Mrs. D Man and I set out across the country for law school. I chose the evocative album to accompany our drive through the first mountain pass as we left our hometown. Sadly, Orton has never approached the strength of her work on Daybreaker. But I suppose we'll always have Paris.