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: "Am I Deaf" by Goldfinger

            In my eyes, Goldfinger has always been a band that can do absolutely no wrong. Since my first exposure to their music via Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, I have been an undying fan of everything this band puts out. Goldfinger’s passion and hilarity is inherent in every composition, and thus each tune provides a simple and incredible listening experience. I’ve found myself connecting with Goldfinger’s ska-soaked punk rock since childhood, and with their new single “Am I Deaf,” there is no exception.

            Being the first piece of new music released by the band in five years, “Am I Deaf” has been held against a high standard by Goldfinger’s fans. While I am always ever grateful for the music of Goldfinger, many found the new single to be less-than-spectacular (see this review by Death and Taxes), especially after the stylistic experimentation of their last two full-lengths. However, in “Am I Deaf,” there is no pretense of a band trying to recapture what they once had. The track is 50% brutal honesty and 50% audacity, which should be more than enough for even the most temperamental fan to realize that “Am I Deaf” is the real deal.

            The song opens with a heavy, grooving guitar riff, which reaches full force as the band joins in. Darrin Pfeiffer’s steady and energetic drumming pushes the tune through tempo changes, maintaining the groove through the verse before opening a circle pit in the chorus. Despite the uncharacteristic drop tunings, the song’s sound is pure Goldfinger, featuring a plethora of vocal moments that demand crowd participation. “Am I Deaf” also challenges a few musical conventions, featuring occasional syncopated vocal rhythms and an eschewing of the ever-present idea of maintaining a key, yet such progressive thinking only heightens the energy of the tune without sacrificing an iota of beauty. And of course, between the punchy bass tone of Kelly Lemieux and the metal-tinged thrashing of Charlie Paulson, the rhythms of this song demand movement, whether it be headbanging, moshing, jumping, or a terrifying combination of all three.

            Lyrically, this tune is unforgiving in its honesty, as John Feldmann takes a cold-shower assessment of his and Goldfinger’s relevance in music. Every artist is forever terrified by the idea that no one cares, and “Am I Deaf” appears to be this band’s response to that fear. John accepts his distance from the youth that dominates today’s music in lines like “Brush your teeth, comb your hair, what’s left of it / Write a song, see a show, stay relevant;” he then blatantly names his fear in the chorus, stating “Every time it feels just like I lost it” before asking himself “Am I deaf? Or am I just a little left of what they listen to today?” With this song, Goldfinger addresses every fear that dogs the creative mind—Do I have anything left? Does anyone care? Am I still worth listening to? “Am I Deaf” is not an outdated band assaulting today’s music, but rather a group of musicians recognizing their fears, and dealing with them in the best way they know how: beating at their instruments and shouting at the top of their lungs.

            To me, it is clear that “Am I Deaf” is no weak and worthless shout for attention—it’s a promise of more great music and great fun from a group of guys who continue to work together out of love for what they do, despite personal differences (see this article on the recent Australian tour), budding families, successful careers, and other musical projects (Charlie’s been spotted on stage with the Black Hands, while Darrin’s been a regular resident behind the kit with the Salads). Though every step into the future puts them farther from their past, Goldfinger remains a formidable and evolving musical act that undoubtedly still has a lot to say. “Am I Deaf” is a ripping tune with a heavy message, and proves that no matter how old or how apprehensive they’re feeling, Goldfinger is still a band that’s absolutely worth your time.

             "Am I Deaf" is a grooving tune from an incredible band who, despite everything, still emphasize the fun that is central to everything they do, and I can’t recommend it enough. If you haven’t got it yet, I encourage you to download “Am I Deaf” at Goldfinger’sSoundcloud page—they’re offering it for free, a thank you to all who continue to listen as Goldfinger continues to rock. You can catch their equally amazing live show on the Warped Tour this summer (check out the teaser video below).

Song Spotlight: "Here and Now" by the Ernies

            I’ve never been much of a gamer, but one of the first I ever played was Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, whose incredible soundtrack truly began my love affair with music. That game was pivotal in giving me my first exposure to the genres of ska and punk, which have been pivotal in formulating my style of bass-playing. This game, besides being a ton of fun, invited me into a world inhabited by fast guitar riffs, pounding drums, and lilting horn melodies, all of which I would soon come to adore.

            THPS was my maiden voyage into music, and through it, I met the energetic honesty of the Suicide Machines, the sardonic and sarcastic stylings of the Dead Kennedys, and the thrashing fervor of Suicidal Tendencies. Perhaps most importantly, this game provoked my since undying love for Goldfinger, my favorite artist. Recently, I decided to delve back into that well of youth, and found myself re-exploring the tracks of this iconic soundtrack. During this process, I encountered one song that in years passed I had somewhat overlooked, but now, I find myself entranced by: “Here and Now” by the Ernies.

            This song rocks from the moment it opens with an immediately-in-your-face guitar riff. Turntables build to the drop of the beat, by which time the listener is grooving in his seat. That groove only intensifies as the song reaches the verse and the intense vocals take control. Will Hummel practically raps through his sturdy melody, pulling the listener into the simple yet elegant chorus that is full of soul. However, perhaps the most interesting moment is the bridge, which features a sudden and unexpected visit from a horn section as it blasts through a melody perfectly complementing the still-grooving guitar riffs and steady drumbeats.

            The brilliance of this song was never apparent to me before the whim to revisit my youth overtook me. Indeed, I remember only that I liked it as a kid, but never truly loved it. Yet now, I find it to be one of those songs that I cannot stop listening to, especially due to the fact that the horn section in this song was something that I never noticed as a child. Now, as a fan of ska and everything entailed in that sound, I was pleasantly surprised to hear those saxophones take control of what I thought was a straight alternative rock song. I was further surprised and delighted to later uncover that the Ernies always presented a ska-punk element in their music—indeed, their second record, Dropping Science, features a cover of the Operation Ivy staple “Sound System.”[1] However, they never let the label of “ska” dominate them, instead branching into all styles so as to present a unique and interesting sound[2], one that is especially apparent in this track.

            “Here and Now” by the Ernies had been a familiar acquaintance in my youth, and as I return to it, a little more seasoned, I find myself able to reconnect with it as I would an old friend. It echoes memories of my childhood while creating new connections with me as an adult, inviting me to continue exploring and enjoying the Ernies’ catalog. Such strength in a song shows that it will stand tall even as the years continue to pile upon us both.

---

[1] http://lyrics.wikia.com/The_Ernies:Sound_System

[2] http://www.styleweekly.com/richmond/the-ernies-at-the-camel/Content?oid=1803312