Song Spotlight: "May 16" by Lagwagon

As I've been saying across the entire existence of this blog, I could go on and on about how the soundtracks to the Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater series seriously informed my musical tastes. They were my first exposure to alternative music, to punk and ska and metal, genres which I would hasten to explore more thoroughly as I grew older. And while I’m sure I could write at length about every single tune from those games (and probably will someday), there are few I’ve connected with as fully as Lagwagon’s “May 16,” a ripping punk rock tune with a very emotional backbone, and one that holds a very important place in my heart.

Winding up with a few hectic guitar chords in the intro, “May 16” quickly reaches full velocity, a mess of power chords and rumbling bass taking off at high speed. Dave Ruan smashes complicated fills in between slash beats while Joey Cape croons his mournful vocal. The structure of the song avoids standard verse/chorus form, instead following a long and complex chord progression that runs head-on at a blistering tempo throughout the piece. The band also peppers small sections of 12/8 time in between the onslaught of 4/4, a theme they more deeply explore in a melodic outro stilted with syncopation and a soulful yet simple guitar solo.

Lagwagon creates a wonderfully chaotic masterpiece in their composition, but the vocals are what drive the emotion home. There is a subtle presence to Joey’s singing as he avoids flash, flair, or even significant volume, instead focusing on delivering the feeling of the tune. Joey’s voice is laden with introspection, holding a deep sadness at bay with words of numb nostalgia: “I can paint a picture in a moment / of memories, and there aren’t many left.” His sparseness, his general noninvolvement in both the story and the song itself, gives a serious weight to every word.

Lagwagon as a group delivers the depth of sound, but it is Joey’s execution that makes “May 16” a song you can feel. This stems from the emotional and very personal situation in which the song was written. “May 16” describes a very real “turning point” in Joey’s life: his waking up in a strange apartment after a one-night stand, only to watch from the window as two former friends—people with whom he was very close at one point—get married in a park next door. Turning to a nearby acoustic guitar, Joey immediately began processing his feelings on this situation real-time, staring out the window at the ceremony and writing the song stream-of-consciousness as a reaction to a very personal scene from which he had been excluded.

Through his lyrics, Joey expertly captures the painful realization of his situation in that moment. The chorus line of “It’s just another Saturday” acts as a sort of denial, an initial refusal to acknowledge that he is being left behind, until he finally gives into the hurt of his rejection (“I am extradited, uninvited”). Yet even so, there is eventual acknowledgement that this moment is beyond him and more important than his pettiness, so that he comes to terms with that rejection, allowing himself to be proud of this couples’ milestone “from afar” as they “take a step to freedom.” Through “May 16,” Joey uses introspection to analyze an extremely emotional moment in his life and alter his perspective, during a time when his life was “off the rails.”

May 16 was the date of Joey’s realization, and thus the song acts as an eternal reminder of that day for him, a sonic monument to a very emotional moment in his life. So too does this date hold significance for me, albeit a little differently. On May 16, 2010, I awoke very early in the morning to find my mother had suffered a debilitating stroke, which put her in the ICU for a long while and scrambled the speech center of her brain. While she fortunately made a relatively speedy recovery, to this day she still deals with the aftereffects, including visits to multiple doctors and a very occasional speech impediment.

Thus, just as the song serves to remind Joey Cape of this turning point in his life, so does Lagwagon’s “May 16” remind me of how I almost lost my mother. But every time that song slips into my shuffle, I do not lament, but instead celebrate, because I didn’t lose her. She survived then and continues to now, and so hearing this punk banger brings me great joy, because I still get to spend time with my mother, and (hopefully) will get to share many more May 16ths with her.

Millencolin - Pennybridge Pioneers

As I’ve mentioned from the very beginning, the original Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater games have a special place in my heart. They were my introduction to the genre of punk rock, my original exposure to music that was fast, energetic, and honest. The first installment in the game series ignited my love affair with Goldfinger and ska-punk in general, while the sequel acquainted me with the likes of punk legends Lagwagon and Bad Religion. For an eleven-year-old homeschooled dweeb living in semi-rural Connecticut, these games were more than just entertainment: they were my gateway drug into the world of alternative music.

Among the more acclaimed names like Rage Against the Machine, Anthrax, and Powerman 5000, there was also a lesser-known band on the soundtrack of THPS 2: Millencolin, a European group then just beginning to get recognition in the U.S. “No Cigar” was an instant hit with me, its angsty no-fucks-given attitude arriving just as I was becoming a teenager, and I was absolutely enamored. I would play the game for hours just so I could learn the lyrics, all the while wishing I could get my hands on more. Thus, when on my fourteenth birthday I was given a blank check of sorts for CDs (the same haul that brought me Bender’s monumental debut), at the top of the list was Millencolin’s Pennybridge Pioneers, the parent record of “No Cigar” that came to define my standard of punk rock for years to come.

From my first spin of Pennybridge Pioneers, I knew that I had found something worth cherishing. There is no lack of prowess or personality on this record; every song, whether in major or minor key, offers catchy melodies and precise instrumentation too juicy to ignore. The sound is very reminiscent of So. Cal punk, which is no surprise given that Pioneers was recorded in Hollywood and produced by punk icon Brett Gurewitz. Yet this Swedish quartet layers in a large amount of catchy writing onto their music. Instead of shying away from pop in favor of gritty punk, Millencolin dives right in, smashing along a swing beat in “Fox” and chugging at a slow, danceable pace in “The Mayfly.” Similarly, Nikola Sarcevic’s straining and raspy vocal lines seem to rattle out pages of lyrics in seconds, all stuck to a delightfully fun melody. 

While pop is definitely the driving factor in Millencolin’s music, the vehicle is their impeccable punk rock aesthetic. Fredric Larzon smashes his drums with quick and precise strikes, bullying along “Highway Donkey” and “Duckpond” with blurring cut beats. Guitarists Erik Ohlsson and Mathias Farm alternate their rhythm and lead sections to create perfect complements to each other’s playing. And at the center is Sarcevic’s rumbling bass, thumping down the foundation beneath the band or growling in the spotlight in “Devil Me” and “Right About Now.”

On Pennybridge Pioneers, Millencolin takes their skate-punk roots and injects them with a healthy dose of pop, and no song epitomizes this as well as “A-Ten.” Opening with a dolorous yet driving guitar riff, Ohlsson and Farm weave their rhythm pieces together, enveloping the entire spectrum of the instrument’s sound and spinning it into a masterpiece. Nikola’s vocals are laden with emotion as he attempts to console a friend through a loss, his mournful exclamation of “You wanna see her back again” wringing every ounce of feeling from the song. His melodies and the instrumentation belie the song’s minor key, instead drawing hope and happiness from a situation that would usually imply darkness. “A-Ten” drives its emotional content home with relentless energy, a deft blend of mosh and melody that invariably gets stuck in my head long after the song is done.

Undoubtedly, Millencolin has their composition process down to a science, producing pieces that feel as passionate as they sound. As is often the case with this style of music, however, the lyrics on Pennybridge Pioneers want for that same precision and attention to detail. Many of Sarcevic’s lines feel sloppy, his images ill-defined. Lines like “to prevent something like a theft I got her locked around a tree” in “Fox” are laden with unnecessary words, while the phrase “does never get a pass” in “The Ballad” doesn’t even make grammatical sense, perhaps a result of English being the second language choice for these Swedes. Still, I can’t stress enough how absolutely sincere Nikola’s vocals feel, so that even his laziest writing comes across with as much intensity as if he were shouting it right in my face.

Although most of the lyrical work on Pennybridge Pioneers fails to invite anything more than a cursory read, one particular piece manages to fully encapsulate and communicate its ideal with surprising ease: “No Cigar,” the song that had me hooked from the very first slap of the snare. Across a backdrop of searing skate punk, Sarcevic unravels line after line of distilled teenaged angst and alienation. His verses clamber across the various judgmental attitudes we all encounter in our youth: “Tell us where you’re from / what you want to become / and we’ll say if you’re OK,” or the still resonating “We will shut you out / We’ll put you in doubt / If you think that you’re special.” In the face of this negativity, Nikola’s chorus lines cast aside the darkness with a powerful mission statement as he shouts “I don’t care where I belong no more / What we share or not I will ignore / And I won’t waste my time fitting in / ‘Cause I don’t think contrast is a sin.” It is this message of self-acceptance, defying expectations and norms in favor of individuality, that slammed into my 12-year-old ears like a shotgun blast, resonating fully with the budding angst that I was just getting to know. “No Cigar” introduced me to both the sound and ethos of punk rock, values that still reside at my core fifteen years later.

Pennybridge Pioneers is the record that “took [Millencolin] to the next level,” and while it may sound dramatic, in a lot of little ways, it has changed my life too. It gave me my first real taste of So. Cal punk sound (even if they weren’t from Cali), a sound with which I would soon become obsessed. It provided me with the material (and the guts) to start playing bass like a punk, as well as the inspiration to take that bass work to a band setting. It inspired me not just to value my own individuality, but to assert it, to push it through to the forefront in all that I do. And though I can’t imagine it will have the same life-shattering effect on you that it did on me, I urge you to give this record a spin, because at its very worst, it’s still a damn good listen.

Tunes to Check Out:

1) No Cigar

2) Duckpond

3) A-Ten

Song Spotlight: "Somebody's Been Sleeping" by 100 Proof (Aged in Soul)

            Over the years, I have established certain musical traditions in my life, rituals that I for the most part have kept alive simply because they bring their own joy and significance to my day. Every Thanksgiving I dip my ears into the insanity of Alro Guthrie’s “Alice’s Restaurant,” and I make a point to spin “May 16th” by Lagwagon when that date arrives, if for no more reason than it just seems appropriate to me. These traditions were instituted in my life by me and for me, giving me small musical patterns on which I can rely.

            Unfortunately, one such tradition, that of tuning in weekly to the program Little Steven’s Underground Garage, has in recent years become harder for me to perform. I used to be an avid listener, letting his program carry me along my commute to my awful food service job. Little Steven’s insightful thematic episodes opened my mind to the inner connections and stories of songs I loved, while also introducing me to new artists and styles of music that have clung to me since. One such song, perhaps my favorite find from the program, is the soul anthem “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” by 100 Proof (Aged in Soul), which has been bouncing around in my head since I first heard it years ago.

            With a jangling guitar riff and a full but fluid horn section, the four minutes of “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” are completely stuffed with soul. The song unabashedly pops into existence with an insistent guitar riff, before launching into the main groove defined by pounding piano notes and a jittery bass. The vocal melody soars powerfully above the thumping drum beat, intermixing with backing harmonies and the horn section in deceptive melody as the speaker questions his lover’s loyalty. The extended instrumental bridge practically urges the listener to dance before coalescing back into a triumphant chorus under accusatory shouts of “Somebody’s been sleeping in my bed!”[1]

            The talented instrumentalists in 100 Proof (Aged In Soul) craft a powerful and funky piece of music, but it is in the lyrical content that the song takes off. The major key and heady beat of “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” create an ethereal if not blissful atmosphere furthered by the lyrical references to the fairy tales “Jack and the Bean Stalk” and “Goldilocks.” However, this gentle, unassuming ambiance belies the song’s far more onerous subject matter, in which the speaker directly accuses his lover of cheating.

            In line with the tale of “Goldilocks,” the song’s main character notices things are amiss in his house, discovering first that someone “ate up all [his] food” and left his new pajamas “balled up in a chair.” However, each new discovery begins to become more ominous, and as he finds a broken seal on his “best booze” and the bed “left unmade,” slowly coming to the realization that the “somebody” who’s been sleeping in his bed hasn’t been sleeping alone.[2]

            This song’s composition, the credit for which goes to soul legends Greg Perry, General Johnson, and Angelo Bond,[3] abounds with interesting choices, but none more so than the integration of language from the fairy tales straight into the lyrics. The rhythmic repetition of “somebody’s been” in the chorus invites an intrinsic connection to the tale, putting the listener back in the mindset of their youth, and as such, implying the perspective of a child listening to his parents arguing. Similarly, the choice to have the speaker be the one to mimic the statement “Fe Fi Fo Fum” actually puts the main character in the shoes of the giant Thunderdell, the villain of “Jack and the Beanstalk,” further spinning the perspective of this tale of betrayal.

            The decision to tell a story of adultery through the lenses of innocent children’s stories shows utter brilliance on the part of the song’s writers, weaving a modern fairy tale that is wholly brought to life by the energetic and heartfelt performances of 100 Proof (Aged In Soul). “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” takes two completely antithetical ideas and synthesizes them seamlessly before locking them in with the band’s signature sound. With its soulful melody and infectious chorus, it is no surprise that the song was a huge hit on both R&B and Pop Charts during its heyday.[4]

            “Somebody’s Been Sleeping” is the reason I began listening ritualistically to Little Steven’s Underground Garage, a highlight of otherwise loathsome Sunday mornings working, and hearing it now has me craving more tunes just like it. I have a good feeling I’ll soon be spending my Sunday mornings with my radio again, and after you spin this classic, don’t be surprised to find yourself tuning in as well.

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[1] http://www.songlyrics.com/100-proof-aged-in-soul/somebody-s-been-sleeping-lyrics/

[2] http://www.songlyrics.com/100-proof-aged-in-soul/somebody-s-been-sleeping-lyrics/

[3] http://www.discogs.com/100-Proof-Aged-In-Soul-Somebodys-Been-Sleeping-In-My-Bed/release/1015726

[4] https://books.google.com/books?id=o552g5xRRiwC&pg=PA439&lpg=PA439&dq=100+proof+aged+in+soul+interview&source=bl&ots=z7i_iRqkth&sig=r8FygH8xfFOgs1JW958odfCV1xI&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0CF8Q6AEwDGoVChMIj8fOhLfExwIVCXQ-Ch3YBQFq#v=onepage&q=100%20proof%20aged%20in%20soul%20interview&f=false

Lagwagon - Hoss

            Evolution has always been a mover of music, as sounds and styles merge and separate into new strains of sound. In the 1990’s, punk rock was pioneering that evolutionary path, relaxing from the heaviness of hardcore while avoiding the muddy sounds of grunge. Spearheading this synthesis of pop and punk was the band Lagwagon, who, with their third full length Hoss, solidified a sound that would go on to inspire countless other bands.

            Recently rereleased as part of the box set Putting Music in its Place,[1] Hoss is considered to be a pivotal album in the development of Lagwagon, especially by its members. In a 2011 interview with Dying Scene, former Lagwagon guitarist Shawn Dewey stated “Hoss has just always had a special place for me. It seemed like we finally came into our own, developing our own sound,”[2] while former bassist Jesse Buglione claims that it was written during “a very prolific period.”[3] As one spins this record, it is easy to see these claims are not far from the truth.

            Hoss is a record so full of energy it seems about to burst. Virtually every song is fast and hard from end to end, and this band tears through them all, never faltering from their established and signature style of distorted guitars and fast, slash-beat drums. Their music is true to the label of punk that so many pin on them, so much so that at times they risk sounding monotonous. However, any redundancy is easily defeated by the composition of the music. Although the entire album is in a 4/4 time signature, songs such as “Bombs Away” or “Sick” feature riffs and progressions are phrased over six measures, providing a 12/8 feel that is fresh against the onslaught of common time, and creating musical moments for the listener to latch onto.

            Lagwagon further adds variety and excitement to their songs with a plethora of syncopated riffs and hits, affectations that rely on the percussion to truly solidify them. Through moments such as these, Hoss acts as a celebration of the musical mastery of the late Derrick Plourde, who played drums on the album. Having left the band shortly after the release of the record,[4] Derrick’s last act as a part of Lagwagon is anything but lackluster. In many places, his drumming seems to be the main feature of the record, as he makes himself known in every composition. From the opening insanity of “Rifle” to his triplet syncopations in “Name Dropping,” Derrick destroys his drum kit over the course of the record, playing at speeds that would set off a radar gun while effortlessly controlling both tempo and rhythm. His contribution shows the powerful and interesting benefits a well-written part can provide for a song, as well as those provided only by an extremely solid rhythm section.

            If the musical writing on the record provides an intricate foundation, the lyrics act as the detailed nuances that define it as a masterpiece. Joey Cape proves himself as a dynamic and powerful writer with Hoss, as he tackles many heavy subjects, but always with a stylized humor and offhandedness. For instance, in “Black Eyes,” Joey presents a brutally vivid image of a person lacking faith and attitude, only to have that image pinned upon himself at the very end. Joey’s ability to switch voices and attitudes is also stressed in the writing of this record. In “Razor Burn,” Joey humorously details his coping with a break-up by growing a “beard of shame,” while in “Ride the Snake,” all mirth is abandoned as he addresses the subject of heroin abuse. The range of both subject matter and the way each is addressed in the writing makes Hoss a record worth a read as well as a listen.[5]

            A phenomenal example of Joey’s writing abilities is the song “Kids Don’t Like to Share,” the opening track of the album. Laid out over an elegant and energetic tune, Joey addresses the fickle crowds that he performs in front of every night. He straightforwardly confronts those fans who think themselves better than others because of the music they listen to, and challenges the pompous and pretentious way they elevate their chosen god, only to “dethrone” the king when he becomes too popular. He compares their idols to fool’s gold “flashing in the pan,” his surprise and sigust quite evident at the notion of something seeming so valuable one moment and so worthless the next. With “Kids Don’t like to Share,” Lagwagon’s attack on “the hipster” is one that remains both solid and valid over fifteen years later, asserting itself as a fun tune with a relevant message.[6]

            Hoss is an unyielding record, with great songs and great energy in every corner. The only place it seems to suffer is in the mix, where the two guitars take center stage over the vocals, and the bass is occasionally left in the mud—an issue that, all things considered, never approaches being a big deal. Hoss It is a record that acts more like a discussion than a presentation, encouraging the listener to think, to feel, and to dance, all with an unbridled enthusiasm for life. With Hoss, Lagwagon has opened the doors of the punk genre to a new attitude and a new generation, both of which continue to shape the evolutionary path of music.

Tunes to Check Out:
1) Kids Don't Like to Share
2) Sleep
3) Black Eyes

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[1] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lagwagon#Box_sets

[2] http://dyingscene.com/news/ds-exclusive-interview-with-lagwagon-at-their-record-release-party-in-san-francisco/  

[3] Ibid.

[4] http://www.lollipop.com/article.php3?content=2006/06june/f-lagwagon.html

[5] http://www.plyrics.com/l/lagwagon.html

[6] http://www.plyrics.com/lyrics/lagwagon/kidsdontliketoshare.html