Hearing a cover song done right can be goosebump-inducing, heart rate-spiking, and soul-feeding.  It’s finding a new song that’s an old favorite.  While I don’t presume to have combed the earth for a definitive list, these ten are, in my opinion, the best of the last ten years.

10. Changes – Seu Jorge After The Life Aquatic launched him into the teeny, tiny indie spotlight, Jorge’s David Bowie covers started drawing huge praise.  That’s Portuguese he’s speaking, and it’s more or less a direct translation of Bowie’s songs.  This isn’t always the case though – occasionally he’ll write entirely new lyrics with no one (aside from Earth’s 1.7 billion Portuguese speakers) the wiser.

9. Panic – Spoon A staple of their concerts for years, Spoon does this Smith’s cover fairly straight.  Morrissey is never an easy act to follow, but Britt Smith understands the inherent live power in the song.  Hipster anarchism doesn’t require several takes in the studio.  All it needs is a packed house screaming, “Hang the DJ!”  [Sorry for the poor video quality.]

8. Thriller – Imogen Heap Some covers just come out of nowhere.  A revamped, unrecognizable piano melody doesn’t give away the secret until she explains just what time it is.  No zombies, no Vincent Price, no claw-dancing, just a stripped-down, haunting voice with a build-up and come down that may be more scary than MJ’s original.

7. Heartless – The Fray Yeezy’s self-pitying dip into the done-me-wrong category found its way into the hands of the self-pitying, done-me-wrong alt pop kings.  The lyrics stand up surprisingly well given the liberal Ebonics sprinkled throughout and the whole thing is boosted with an adolescent doodles video, steeped in brooding hormones, that must be seen to be appreciated.

6. Handle With Care – Jenny Lewis with The Watson Twins It’s an indie music fan’s wet dream! Just the idea that M. Ward, Conor Oberst, Ben Gibbard and Jenny Lewis were even around each other at the same time is of a Malta / Yalta level of epic.  Not that the original group was anything to sneeze at — Roy Orbison, Jeff Lynne, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty and George Harrison made up the Traveling Wilburys, giving new meaning to the term ‘supergroup.’  Lewis and crew peel back layers until it’s vulnerable and emotive in a way that claims the song for a whole new generation.

5. Baby I’m Yours – Arctic Monkeys The anti-thesis of Imogen’s Thriller cover, Alex Turner shelves his usual cynicism and pretty much goes note-for-note with Barbara Lewis’ original, maybe slightly inching up the doo-wop.  It’s a heartfelt lyric with more cleverness than is usually expected from this type of pop.  Wikipedia says it has been covered by eight other artists, but it’s the Monkeys’ that proves Brit-Pop and Doo-Wop make cozy bed partners.

4. Hurt – Johnny Cash Had to have seen this one coming, folks. Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor explains.  “Tears welling, silence, goose-bumps… Wow. [I felt like] I just lost my girlfriend, because that song isn’t mine anymore… It really made me think about how powerful music is as a medium and art form. I wrote some words and music in my bedroom as a way of staying sane, about a bleak and desperate place I was in, totally isolated and alone. [Somehow] that winds up reinterpreted by a music legend from a radically different era/genre and still retains sincerity and meaning — different, but every bit as pure.”  Cash’s gravelly, death-bed rendition will land on lists of greatest covers for a long time to come.

3. Smile Like Your Mean It – Tally Hall Because they already have their own reputation and fan base, songs aren’t something you can cover half-ass.  The best have fearlessness, confidence, and vision.  Tally Hall’s cover of The Killers’ cut from 2004’s Hot Fuss has all of the above and more.  Going straight for the proverbial jugular, Tally Hall packs gospel harmonies, whistling, and even a xylophone into a tight 3:12 runtime.  The band retains the song’s core element: a hyper-produced wistful nostalgia, but wraps up the whole thing in a surreal, spiritual package.

2. We Will Become Silhouettes – The Shins The Postal Service’s original, a synth-burping juggernaut of rhythm, certainly has its time and place, but this acoustic reinvention is an absolutely gorgeous three minutes of music.  Already masters at juxtaposing dark lyrics with upbeat melodies, it doesn’t take much for The Shins to make this theirs.  A guitar solo here, harmonies there and voila, you’re left with a tune that outshines the original, both in terms of accessibility and overall fun.

1. I’m Going Down – Vampire Weekend Originally tested out on the road, Vampire Weekend finally laid this down, down, down in the studio for iTunes Sessions.  It derives from Springsteen’s seemingly bottomless Born In The U.S.A. album.  And while VW infuses their trademark glossy, sun-drenched style, it’s the singing that pushes it over the top.  Smooth-faced vocals resonate so much more authentically with the lyrics — how many of us can seriously picture a girl impervious to the smoldering Boss?  Exactly.  No, it’s the anxious, post-adolescent pipes of Ezra Koenig that punctuate the song’s resignation.

10.  I Saw You Standing There (The Beatles) – The Beatles were to evolve into the most artistically complex and musically diverse band in pop music history, but not before churning out chart-topping pop gems like this.  The first song off the Fab Four’s first album, this song introduced the world to a band that was light, airy; young gentlemen that mothers would approve of.  It’s all jangly riffs and handclaps, punctuated by swooping, smitten lyrics that center on promises of fidelity and innocuous dancing.  It validates the nervousness and subsequent uplifting payoff that that first attraction between two brings.

9.   Anyone Else But You (The Moldy Beaches) – A cover of this cut by Michael Cera and Ellen Page anchored the movie Juno, but it was always a teenage love song classic.  Sweet and goofy and never taking itself seriously.  THAT’S teenage love.  Or at least, teenage love at its best.  Musically the song couldn’t be any simpler.  The lyrics couldn’t be any plainer, any more direct.  There’s no mind games here.  The two voices connectat the ends of verses, leading up to one of the sweetest and most heartfelt choruses in indie rock. Even the Konami Code makes an appearance!

8.   Scenes From an Italian Restaurant (Billy Joel) – Joel’s sprawling epic spans seven minutes in length, ten years in story, and teenage love gained and lost by its subjects.  ”Brenda and Eddie were the popular steadies, and the king and the queen of the prom / Riding around with the car top down and the radio on / Nobody looked any finer, or was more of a hit at the Parkway Diner / We never knew we could want more than that out of life /  Surely Brenda and Eddie would always know how to survive.”  That, in a nutshell, is what it’s like to be a teenager in love.  Everything your life is ahead of you and what you want is completely attainable.  And yet, Joel acknowledges and even romanticizes the other shoe falling:  Brenda and Eddie started to fight when the money got tight, and they just didn’t count on the tears.  A lesson that Joel doesn’t try to teach us, as he knows we must all learn it on our own, but it’s how he finds common ground.  Place that story inside a larger one centering on two old classmates meeting and catching up, and you have a frame story that’s poignant and perfect.

7.   Jack and Diane (John Mellancamp) – By now the little ditty about Jack and Diane isn’t so little.  It launched Mellancamp’s career into the stratosphere and made him an unintentional proponent of terrible 80′s hair styles.  In the same vein as other Mellancamp hits, this one is drenched in teenage nostalgia (hold that thought for a second, as we’re zeroing in on the king of that particular sub-genre).  It’s a simple song about the impermanence of those first thrilling relationships.  It’s never easy coming to terms with the fact that you were wrong about who you were certain was the one, especially when there’s no previous experience to draw from.  Mellancamp’s quick to remind us, however, that life goes on, and that we need to “hold on to 16 as long as you can / Changes come around real soon, make us women and men.”  Thanks, John.  Now we’re heartbroken and we’re reminded of our own crushing mortality.

6.   Leader of the Pack (The Shangri-Las) – Classic.  The first truly great teenage tragedy song.  Betty is forced by her parents to dump Jimmy after they chide her that he hails from “the wrong side of the tracks.”  Jimmy, in true James Dean bad-assery takes off on his motorcycle in the rain, and inevitably crashes and dies.  That’s when Betty vows to never forget the Leader of the Pack.  It’s a pretty stereotypical teenage pop song, as it came out in 1964, but that doesn’t negate its greatness.  The back-ups croon their ooh-wahs beautifully, and the whole thing is punctuated by Jimmy’s motorcycle revving between verses and choruses.  Billy Joel’s homage in “You May Be Right” (“Even rode my motorcycle in the raaaayyyyn”) may carry more weight when you consider that Joel once claimed to play piano on this track despite nearly everyone else involved asserting that it was some other guy named Roger.  Weird.

5. You Belong With Me (Taylor Swift) – Aw, the girl/guy-next-door syndrome.  Who hasn’t felt THAT at one time or another?  It takes a lot to cope with one’s own limitations in the romantic field.  The frustration, the longing, the almost inexpressible desire to be with someone who, naturally, doesn’t want to be with you goes hand-in-hand with teenage love.  Unrequited love is at its most romantic when teenagers are involved, after all.  Swift’s lyrics nail this feeling perfectly.  Add a catchy banjo line and some slick production, and you have another Top 10 smash for the rising princess of country music.  My only knocks on this song comes from the video.  The singer/narrator inexplicably changes everything she’s about in order finally get the guy at the video’s climactic Prom sequence!  Leaving her lonely but hopeful at the end of the song would’ve carried some much more gravity and made the entire message of the song so much more meaningful.  And the whole T. Swift playing both girls in the video is a great idea–that Avril Lavigne had three years ago.  Oh well.  (Proud I didn’t mention Kanye?  I am.)

4. Night Moves (Bob Seger) – Ladies and gentlemen, the King of Teenage Nostalgia, classic rock style. Listening to his greatest hits makes me wonder how old he is.  Perhaps he’s been roaming the earth looking for diners and dive bars since the beginning of time.  This cut is one of his best; a celebration of awkward, confusing and thrilling teenage sexual escapades.  ”I used her, she used me, but neither one cared–we were gettin’ our share.”  Throw in his references to her breasts (“way up firm and high”), and every location the two of them ever had sex (“backrooms, alleys, trusty woods, out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy, out in the back seat of my ’60 Chevy”) and it’s actually a little too honest.  A gentleman never kisses and tells, Bob.  Even one “young and restless and bored.”

3. She’s In Love With the Boy (Trisha Yearwood) – Don’t stop reading!  Please!  Gimme a chance to defend this! ….  Still there?  Ok, good.  My older sister Jen made sure to pump my early formative years full of pop country songs, so occasionally I will hear a song that I’m sure I’ve never heard before, usually a country song from the 90′s, and for reasons I can’t understand I will be able to sing every lyric.  This is one of those songs, and maybe that’s why I feel so attached to it.  It picks up right where “Jack and Diane” left off, even including a throwback to the Tastee Freeze from Mellancamp’s own cut!  The down-home story of Katie and Tommy (Two incredibly stereotypical 90′s names, by the way.  See Power Rangers for more:  Jason?  Kimberly??) is twisted a little by Yearwood in the last verse, as so many country songs are apt to doing, when the listener learns that even though Tommy isn’t looked upon highly by Katie’s father, said father was just like Tommy back in the day.  When the mom defends her daughter, “Katie looks at Tommy like I still look at you!”  the admittedly predictable a-ha gotcha moment sinks in.  The music video is soul-crushingly depressing though.  Maybe that’s because it hits a little too close to home, literally.  Watch at your own risk.  [sidenote:  Chuck Klosterman, struggling to explain this song's incredible popularity, concludes that this reference, "cuts an amazingly wide swath. [...]  There are thousands of people in this country who still can’t believe Trisha Yearwood perfectly described the teenage experience of someone they know in real life.  And the amazing thing is that they’re all correct.”  His argument is that the lyrics are highly specific, yet secretly universal.  While that’s true, the fact to a sometimes lesser-degree is what makes all of these teenage love songs so great.]

2.  Hands Down (Dashboard Confessional) – A lyrical triumph centered around Dashboard frontman Chris Carrabba’s self-proclaimed greatest date ever.  Specificities and inside jokes and the meaningful little things are the building blocks of all relationships, and I’ve never heard a song so accurately understand the importance of those things.  The song also nails the frantic pacing, the risk of running off the tracks that teenage love routinely presents.  It holds great personal meaning for me, and again the highly specific/secretly universal law comes into play because everyone who hears this can apply it so well to one relationship or another.  Most importantly, the track captures the soaring invincibility that’s so easily accessible if we can just find the other person to give it to us.  Gah, it gives me goosebumps just listening to it.  Lyrically, the best song on the list.

1.  Paradise By the Dashboard Lights (Meatloaf) – Meatloaf gives us the gold standard by which all other teenage love songs are judged in this 8 minute plus epic.  Great lyrics are highlighted by the duet going on between a teenage guy just looking to get some and his date, hellbent on commitment and marriage.  The arguing and haggling between two lust-driven kids is so relatable and funny and in the end, predictable.  Props for the hilarious Phil Rizzuto announcing the boys’ advances as a baseball game.  ”Here he comes rounding third base, squeeze play, it’s gonna be close, here’s the throw, the play at the plate, I think he’s gonna make it!  Holy Cow!”  Inevitably, the boy caves and promises his life to the girl for that one single night, setting him up for commitments he immediately regrets.  The music tempo changes are overly dramatic (clever, right?) and gives the idea that nothing else matters outside these eight minutes.  Which, to everyone, is an all-too-familiar feeling.  Just be glad I didn’t put up the music video.  How Meatloaf got any girl into that car with him is unfathomable.

Cheers.

10. The Show Must Go On – Queen

Queen put out their last album in October of 1991. Freddie Mercury was dead less than a month later. Because of the crushing deterioration of AIDS, Brian May doubted Freddie could even sing this song in the studio. Legend says Mercury nailed it in one take after a shot of vodka. The lyrics are startlingly emotive and vulnerable, especially for a Queen song, making it clear that it was always intended to be Freddie’s swan song. Although never directly articulated, the imminence of death is clear in every bold, meaningful chorus that Freddie belts out, desperate to get the final word in before the curtain falls. Not surprisingly, this one was voted the most popular funeral song in all of Europe not too long ago.

9. Candle in the Wind – Elton John

Although originally penned for Marilyn Monroe, this song didn’t really get huge until Elton tweaked it a bit and sang it at Princess Diana’s funeral. Lyrically, this one stands out because of its imagery. The lost, exploited girl with no anchor, adrift in a sea of celebrity, resonates with the image of Princess Di so clearly that Elton’s 1997 version of the song became the biggest-selling single of all-time. It’s really just a eulogy in a song—a tribute that nearly rivals its subject in beauty and grace. A pretty song, and like the best funerals, you get a sense of closure when it’s over.

8. Arc of Time – Bright Eyes

The one thing that puts this song in stark contrast to the first two, is how surprisingly upbeat it is. Hand claps punctuate the already meaningful drumline, and by the final verse Conor Oberst sounds positively joyous. First time I’ve ever heard someone sing “You will die, die, die, die” without questioning their hormone levels. And while the melody is catchy, like many Bright Eyes tunes the lyrics are the main draw. Conor Oberst’s message is clear: death’s presence is out of our hands, but our reaction to it is not. The choice to embrace it or run from it is our own. At first glance, this song sounds Christian, but in my opinion the song is more about finding your own salvation and clinging to it before death comes. Which, as Oberst kindly reiterates, is swift indeed.

7. Ocean Breathes Salty – Modest Mouse

The fifteen minutes I spent listening to this song, watching the video, and reading the lyrics got me approximately nowhere. Talking with Logan and Levi though, I’m getting a much more fleshed-out opinion. I believe it’s about two lovers, one very Christian and morally-centered, and the other a much more cynical Atheist. The Christian has died, and the other one is filled with bitterness at the loss. He’s torn between standing for his beliefs and hoping to see his lover in the afterlife. The guitar is haunting; a solid wall of somberness. Wah-wahs weave between Isaac Brock’s frustrated lyrics, and the listener is left pondering the same questions about the afterlife that plague the singer.

6. Keep Me in Your Heart – Warren Zevon

Months away from dying of inoperable cancer, Zevon put out his final album The Wind to say goodbye. Everybody from Billy Bob Thornton to Tom Petty and Bruce Springsteen helped him with it, and it was the biggest success of his career. This track is a look inside to a man who’s made his peace with his own death. It’s noble and dignified and just generally awesome. The music is Zevon’s standard folk rock, and it’s the lyrics that propel it so high. He reminds us that it’s the little things we end up missing about a person after their gone, and the importance to love in the moment. Plus it made an amazing appearance in Boston Legal when Michael J. Fox’s character (who’s dying of lung cancer, coincidentally) is about to leave the show.

5. Eleanor Rigby – The Beatles

The Beatles’ classic about loneliness and the consequences of never finding true love rolls in at number five. It’s a sweeping orchestral epic, inasmuch as a 2:11 song can ever be, and there’s over 60 cover versions out there to prove just how relatable it is. The lyrics are desolate and for the most part unforgiving: Both Eleanor Rigby and Father McKenzie need somebody to love—but don’t meet up until Father McKenzie is conducting Eleanor’s funeral. And then there’s the string arrangement, which is brilliant and probably primarily responsible for the song’s insane popularity. Just listening to the music’s instrumental is cool enough—it already sounds like a lonely funeral dirge—but add Paul’s lyrics and you have one of the greatest songs of all-time. It’s down so low because at heart it’s a loneliness song, but it surprised me just how often death and loneliness go hand in hand.

4. All Things Must Pass – George Harrison -

George says this song reflects how the ‘essence of the soul’ is the only thing that resists change. “None of life’s strings can last,” he sings. Released almost immediately after The Beatles broke up, Harrison sings to the thousands of fans across the world who’ve been crushed to learn their favorite band has split. The lyrics are somehow depressing and uplifting at the same time, again harkening back to George’s stated quest “to achieve duality of all things.” Crazy what doing drugs in India will make you think. However, bursts of brass and Harrison’s ever-present guitar make the song anything but crazy. Instead it’s one steady, beautiful march. I don’t think it was until Paul McCartney sang this at George’s funeral though, that it gained immortality.

3. Dead! – My Chemical Romance -

One of the rules on these lists is one song per artist. If there’s ever been a time to break that rule it was looking at My Chemical Romance. Welcome To The Black Parade is a modern rock opera; an all-around strong piece of music. And it’s a concept album about death! Kinda! Alas, I picked just one track. In my opinion, the most death-centric (ok, that’s kind of a cop-out. I mean, look at the title) jam on the album. From the tasty guitar solo in the opening to the epic la-la’s at the end, this song dominates every second it’s playing. It isn’t bashful about the message that frankly, no one cares if you die. Being confronted with that fact might be just depressing enough to make you kill yourself to end it early. “If life ain’t just a joke, then why are we laughing?”

2. Tears in Heaven – Eric Clapton

Conor Clapton was in pre-school when he fell 53 stories to his death in New York in 1991. Overcome with grief and regret—mostly due to himself being a terrible father—Eric Clapton withdrew into his own world. He emerged the next year with this moving ballad worth three Grammies and a place as one of the best death songs in history. Classic Clapton fretwork compliments unguarded (and rightfully legendary) lyrics: “Would you know my name / If I saw you in heaven?” Listening to the song is one thing, but listening to it and imagining the pain Clapton had to feel knowing his heroin and alcohol addictions obliterated his shots at being a decent dad is tough to fathom. It adds so much weight to an already heavy jam.

and number one…

1. Don’t Fear the Reaper – Blue Oyster Cult -

I don’t even really feel like I have to justify this song because the lyrics already do such an amazing job: “The door was open and the wind appeared / The candles blew and then disappeared / The curtains flew and then He appeared.” That’s some spooky stuff. Not to mention it’s graced by one of the most recognizable guitar riffs in rock history. Seriously, this song has it all: death incarnate, haunting background vocals, and a face-melting guitar solo. I guess, come to think of it, there IS one thing wrong with this song.  Needs more cowbell.

Cheers.

It took awhile before I could differentiate between the good butterflies and the ones that suddenly plunge my stomach thirty flights after imagining skin scraping pavement. I guess that’s your mind’s early warning mechanism. Being with girls is like grinding your face against asphalt. In fact, I guess part of me assumed I’d outgrown them with my custom-made Hulk pajamas. When I felt them again, the good kind, I couldn’t even place the sensation at first. It was like finding an old toy you use to play with when you were little. It looks and feels the same, but you’re not quite sure what to do with it—the nostalgia plays tricks on you.

I thought new-found cynicism killed the butterflies. Turns out, it was the departure of surprise. They’re rooted in fear stemming from the unexpected; the old “that which we do not know.” The fear isn’t bad though. Not the kind I feel, at least. It’s true my sense of anticipation is demolished—and that legitimately scares me—but it is fun to just feel them again. They remind me of when my only concern was whether I would be first pick or second pick… when snacks were plenty and math was simple. Back then, everything was easier. Now it’s just fun to kick back and coast. That seems to be your forte.

I pretty much live for music. One of my biggest regrets in life is not being a musician. Music’s always been a driving force in me growing up. I learned my geography from Buffett and my history from Joel. To me, though it’s depressing to think that we’ll never hear some of our favorite bands. Our would-be favorite songs sometimes never reach our ears. And while the internet boasts godsends like Pandora radio and iTunes Genius feature to do miracle work to narrow that gap, they can only do so much. Out of my three favorite bands right now, The Strokes, Ben Folds Five, and Hot Hot Heat, I haven’t known of any of them for longer than a year.

That’s why it’s so exciting for me to discover a new band or song I love. In this giant game of reverse minesweeper, to me, that’s one more hit. I’m hoping I can get some help from you guys. Can you do me a favor and post your favorite obscure song or band? I promise I’ll check ‘em out.

Cheers.

8:03 PM (Mountain Standard Time): Nolan and I decide to have some Mexican food because Easter’s a special day. We discuss how we need to make a fun night out of this, because fun nights are running out quicker than Medicare. *zing!* Jazlyn keeps us entertained with her texts though, and talk turns serious when Nolan and I discuss how we’re basically accountability buddies. I’m going to need him on speed dial on those rainy, Oregon mornings when the snooze button is more tempting than Brooklyn Decker covered in melted Swedish fish.

8:13 PM: It isn’t much of a party. While Nolan and I can always manufacture fun, it’s easier with more people on the assembly line. Lance is the missing link. We pick him up at the gym… Kinda. He has to walk a little bit because I’m a quasi-tard and can’t figure out how to get into the gym’s parking lot.

8:22 PM: How many well-behaved slightly-nerdy kids does it take to come up with a fun idea? More than three apparently.

8:27 PM: A joke turns into a mission, as we decide to randomly follow cars for as long as we can. Once they reach their destination, we do the slow drive-by before speeding off as fast as Sascha (my decade old purple Camry) will allow.
8:35 PM: This is turning out better than expected. You can almost see the light bulb and the gnawing panic during that moment of realization that they’re being followed. We debate the legality of what we’re doing.

8:41 PM: A promising group of girls in a sporty red car (we also discuss how easily our lingo becomes associated with the Dahmers and Bundy’s of the world) pull into their driveway and drop someone off. They literally stay there for ten or fifteen minutes, causing us to give up.

8:50 PM: We meet out match. A dirty Suburu Hatchback with a bike mounted to the top and wildlife license plates gives us the runaround for quite a while. The car’s plain appearance encourages Lance to name him Mr. Boring: “‘with my boring license plates that aren’t even normal. I don’t even speak English I’m so boring’,” he drawls.

8:52 PM: Mr. Borington (as we’ve taken to calling him) tries to give us the slip in a dead end. Instead, we park in front of the entrance/exit and wait for his next move. The Mexican Standoff lasts almost a full minute, and Borington (he’s lost honorific privileges at this point) pretends to pull into a driveway. We pretend to buy it, and park nearby out of sight.

8:55 PM: Now Borington is tailing us, as we leave just seconds before him. No doubt he’s taking my license plates and calling me in. Well played, Borington.

9:00 PM: We shake him and wind up behind him, thanks to my expert maneuvering. Borington Bear (as I’ve taken to calling him) is in our sights once more. Eager to put a face on my white whale, I pass him on Central. He’s a normal-looking college-aged cyclist who looks a little scared. He won’t make eye contact. I try to slow down and get behind him, but he won’t let me. So I go slower. So does he. By this time we’re going five to ten miles below the speed limit on Central and I’m getting nervous. Borington Bear will not let me get behind him again. So I slip in front of him and go even slower, daring him to pass me. Traffic streams by on the left, as the three of us duel with Borington Bear. Finally, we reach an intersection and I decide to see if he’ll follow me. How much does Peter Borington-Bear (his final name) love the thrill of the chase? He doesn’t take the bait though, and as we turn and loop around to follow him again, we see him pull into Blockbuster. Followed by a cop. Touché, PBB. You win this round. We take a side street and slink into the night.

9:33 PM: After decided the group needs more estrogen, we meet up with MacKenzie and Kylie. MacKenzie’s idea of a good meeting place is Zimmerman Park. Nolan and I agree it’s a better meeting place for a Satanic worship group. MacKy finally agree to take my car, though we’re not totally sure if it’s been tabbed by the cops.

9:57 PM: Rehashing the Borington story for the girls is the main highlight. Everyone freaks out when I drive past the Police Department, and I search for justification that we’re not going to get arrested by pointing to a gang of gangbangers bangin’ down the street. I point out that they’re not getting arrested, so what’re we worrying about? Several of them stop and turn, one points at me, and I realized my loud voice has carried over to them. Part of me thinks this was my plan all along, and the other part hits the gas pedal and gets out of Dodge before they gat us.

10:28 PM: Somewhere in the conversation, the Crucified Cat crops up. Neither Kenzie nor Kylie has seen it, but Kylie thinks it’s a hoax. I almost driving up a one-way the fun way, and we spot the ill-lit stoop. Kylie covers up her bawk-bawking by saying she thinks there’s an alarm that goes off. Kenzie has more courage and walks up the steps. If you’ve ever seen the Crucified Cat, you can imagine her reaction. It was nearly as bad as Dustin and mine. She sprints around the corner to the car and for some reason singles ME out to be pissed at. Upon reflection, I wonder if the cat is risen, what with yesterday being Easter and all…

11:10 PM: MacKy heads back to Kylie’s house and we drop off Nolan after I fail to convince him to skip class tomorrow and hang out with us longer. Some accountability buddy I am. It’s down to Lance and me.

11:15 PM: Leaving Nolan’s street we notice a toilet someone has set out for the garbage man the next morning. “Wouldn’t it be a great idea…” Yes, it would. I try to lift the toilet, and the water inside spills all over my feet. I freak OUT. “ABORT MISSION! ABORT MISSION!” I yell, and we peel away as the house’s garage door opens.

11:20 PM: Thoughts keep returning to that can, as if it was placed there for the singular purpose of us stealing it. We call Anders, and surprisingly he’s in, so we swing by and pick him up. The only question that remains is where to put it.

11:33 PM: A target is proving to be hard to pick. Both Lance and Anders want to put it on a church, but I don’t wanna make a religious statement. Ideally, it would be somewhere public. Somewhere funny. Then it hits us before we know it. Naples and Ahoy.

11:59 PM: The house on Naples and Ahoy has gotten more than its share of underwear in its mailbox. It’s a rite of passage among our friends. Well tonight they’re going to get a little more.

12:23 AM: Conquering the toilet proves simple. Lance drains the water, and Anders bags it up. The porcelain present is loaded.

12:37 AM: Just plunking the toilet on their driveway isn’t flashy enough. We have to TAUNT them. The three of us hit up Wal-Mart for sidewalk chalk and liquid courage On the way to the target, we plan. I’ll write the note; Lance and Anders will jettison the package.

12:49 AM:

1:10 AM: I crawl into bed. What a fantastic night.

Had to get that out while it was still simmering in my mind.

One Battle of the Songs, a Big Ten, and Dustin up soon!

Cheers.

It’s easy to point out flaws in others. Biting words fall like icicles from a roof. And yet, putting ourselves under the microscope proves much more daunting. Often times the familiar haze of self-regard blinds us to our own faults, and man, it’s awkward once the smoke clears and you see yourself in a new light. There is some reason, inexplicable to me, for my inability to maintain a consistent friendship. Doesn’t matter who, and it doesn’t matter how close I am to them. We’ll always ebb and flow. Some people who don’t know me take this personally. Sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. Someone once told me that the key to friendships was not being with people long enough to get sick of them. Then again, that person lied to me almost every time they opened their mouth. My point is, please don’t be offended by an unanswered text or ‘hello’. People change. They’re always changing, for better or worse. The real challenge to friendship is knowing when to get off the ride and rest awhile.

This wishy-washiness may also explain why I can’t seem to start a relationship. The asshole in me attributes this to getting bored with particular girls over time, but the honest part of me (funny how the two almost never seem to agree) thinks that maybe I’m just too scared. Scared of convincing myself she’s right for me, and then getting bored. I’m not being a martyr by distancing myself from them, but I’m certainly not doing anyone any favors. Do I deep down honestly think I would get bored of them? No, that’s called a defense mechanism. Ask Mr. Darwin. The problem is I like girls too much to not care, and not caring’s what stops me in the end.

I came to an epiphany the other night. Well, not so much an epiphany but a distillation/culmination of the values I believe in. I believe in right and wrong. The gray area exists, but only to make things more dramatic. When faced with a choice, you can do the right thing, or the wrong thing. Now getting into doing the right thing for the wrong reasons, etc. isn’t the crux of the issue. You make a choice. Eventually it will be clear to you—hopefully before the consequences set in, but often we’re not as fortunate—whether that choice was the right one or not. The difference, in my mind, between the hero and the villain in any work is pretty simple. Ask Joseph Campbell. The hero isn’t perfect. He makes mistakes through his own weakness. He grows. When faced with the same choice again, the hero reverses course. Becomes noble. Repents. The villain is the coward who makes the same destructive mistake over and over again because he’s just not strong enough to overcome.

Cheers.

Ah, spring break. When reckless collegiate sinners flock to sun-drenched beaches to guzzle beer and enjoy a respite from guzzling beer elsewhere. And kids my age generally either A) spend the break in social networking-induced coma or B) spend it off in some overhyped touristy area reeking of middle-agedness. Surely someone as mod as myself could duck these usual pitfalls, right?

Right you are, Ken. I spent my break driving to Eugene, Oregon to scope out the place where, in all probability, I will spend the next four years of my life.

With Nolan the Goose to my Maverick, we packed up my stepdad’s Toyota Tundra and ate up the 1000 miles to U of O for three days. The trip held all the hijinks I could want: pretending we were locked out of the truck until Nolan freaked out, giving Nolan the wrong directions to see what would happen if we missed our turn off, and making Nolan drive for a 30 minutes around campus to look for a parking spot close enough to not cause any trouble for my bum knee. Surprisingly, Nolan got pissed at me on multiple occassions. Some guys just don’t have a sense of humor, I guess. He seemed to think he was playing the Gus to my Shawn, which I guess I sort of reinforced by encouraging a nervous boyfriend to make a move on his girlfriend–in song. Across the empty middle of the Eugene mall, I sang loudly, “You gotta MAN UP / And make a move / You know she wants it / *falsetto* kiss her!” They got up and left.

As for the campus itself, I love it. It’s green and beautiful and fresh. It was like sneaking upstairs on Christmas Eve and seeing your new bike. You’re tingling with excitement until the reality sets in: you’re not going to get to ride that monster for at least eight more hours. That’s how I feel. I feel like I just want to mesh into that lifestyle of hip, coffee-drinking, witty, irreverent urbanites. But I can’t, I’m not ready.

I’m not ready to cut that goofy padawan ponytail just yet. How do I know? Three big annoying reasons. My little sisters. I missed them. They helped me realized that I have a lot of ground to cover, a lot of loose ends to tie-up, before I leave. I mean, I missed my whole family–including my mom’s “suggestions” (which are really just directives disguised as questions: Don’t you think you should brush off your car? Shouldn’t you pick up your room?) but I wasn’t expecting to miss my sisters as much as I did. Don’t get me wrong, I love them immeasurably, but the crying and the screaming and the fighting? It’s not something you miss. I dunno how my Dad does it.

Cheers.

It was tied, 9-9. Shane had been doing his usual hit-from-everywhere-on-the-court thing. He brought the ball up and pulled up for a long three. I went to contest the shot, jumping as high as I could and putting my hand in front of his face. I thought I landed a little awkwardly. I heard a pop, then a crunch. Not knowing what happened, I went to get up and collapsed again.

“Call a doctor!” I screamed, pretty oblivious the fact that it wasn’t the 1800’s and doctors didn’t come to you anymore. Shane and someone else helped me off the court. I laid back on the grass, writhing, and Tyler unpopped the sides of my basketball pants.

Everyone let out a collective “Ohhhhh….” I rolled my torso back and forth, pretty much saying every swear word I’d ever heard. All I thought about was Thor at the game, doing the same thing under the basket. I did not want to tear my ACL and miss my senior tennis season.

“Call my mom,” I said. “259-2947.”

“I need…pain!” I said, completely losing sense. The boys laughed, and that kinda put me at ease.

“Dude, don’t look at your knee, k?” was Shane’s advice. I agreed that I wouldn’t, but that if it wasn’t too much trouble is the boys could take pictures of it with their cell phones so I could see what it looked like later on.
“I don’t wanna pass out,” I gasped. “I really don’t wanna pass out.” Nolan drove the car up to the court, and he and Lance loaded me into the back. It was then I first caught a glimpse of my knee and knew I should’ve listened to Shane. I freaked out.

The thing on the left is my kneecap.

“IS THAT MY KNEECAP?!?” I demanded at the huge bump protruding from the left side of my knee. “Oh my god…oh my god….” We met my mom driving off the park, and I told them not to let her see my knee—which of course was pretty unlikely. She told us what hospital to drive to, and I spent the next ten longest minutes of my life huddled in the back seat of Nolan’s car alternately swearing and grunting. I think Nolan hit every pothole he could find. Of course I’m kidding, but tell that to the bone jutting out of my knee.

We arrived at the emergency room, and Lance and Nolan tagteamed to help me into the building. The first thing I heard the secretary say was “that boy is in pain.” Really, lady? You’re a secretary at an emergency room, and you comment that a person is in pain?! Hate to know what she’d say if I had a gunshot wound: “Lynette, I think that boy is uncomfortable….”

They squeezed me into a tiny wheelchair, promising not to bend my knee. I heard another lady whisper, “I dunno how to do this!” I started laughing at how I’d rather have been in Kathy Bates’ hands circa Misery. Then she tried to put an icepack on my messed up knee. I shrugged her off and asked her for water, which she said they couldn’t give me in case I needed surgery. Then they bent my knee (never believe promises from ER) and started wheeling me towards the back. On the way, I distinctly remember asking every nurse how she was doing, if her day was going better. I wasn’t being a smartass, that’s just when I realized that my knee was in their hands and I should be as nice to them as possible.

They wheeled me into a room, and spent eternity preparing the bed for me. I remember lying on the bed, with my mom and dad both with me, as the nurses came in and prepped me.

“You’re going to feel a big poke,” a nurse said, as she jabbed me with her needle to hook me up to an IV. I thought to myself ‘that’s what he said’ and then realized that I wasn’t even on any medication yet: how could I be so out of it? Over the next 5 or 10 minutes, they gave me “15” morphine (I dunno how much they gave me, 15 CCs?), and also something to counteract the fact that the morphine was going to make me want to throw up. I thought about Civil War soldiers who were loaded up with morphine before being hacked to bits by a saw, and the lady in To Kill a Mockingbird who had a morphine addiction. The morphine made me feel like I do after a game of basketball during the summer. It made me really weak, and I felt flushed all over. I couldn’t help but think it didn’t do a damn thing for my knee though. It still felt like someone had slammed an ice pick into my knee and snapped the handle off. I remember asking the nurse if there were any hot 18-year-old girls in the same wing as me. Yeah, I was pretty doped up.

The doctor came in, and explained what had to be done: my leg was to be straightened out and the kneecap popped back in. That sounded easy enough. The nurse told me to count back from 60. 60…the doctor looked at me and nodded…59…he eased my leg out of my hands and into his…58…he straightened out my leg, and I wavered counting out my next number…57…I waited for the pop…56…still waiting…55…he let my leg down and looked at me.

“All done,” he smiled. I laughed out loud. It still hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before, but I could deal with it. After a brief scare where I thought it had re-dislocated, I was in my knee immobilizer and on crutches. I thanked Nolan and Lance again and again, and climbed in my mom’s car for home. Last night was not fun. I still can’t move my leg and the Vicodin doesn’t make much of a dent in the pain, but I could be worse. I’ve got my laptop, cell phone, TV remote, and a great collection of movies. So gimme a text or stop by and visit me. I’m not going anywhere.

Cheers.

1. Breakfast in America (Supertramp) vs. Breakfast at Tiffany’s (Deep Blue Something) – The most important meal of the day never tasted so bad. To be fair (or at least be transparent in my unfairness) I do not like either of these songs. Breakfast in America spawned in 1979, just before the world went all new wave and electro-pop. So tell me, just what exactly is a clarinet doing here? I learned playing clarinet wasn’t cool in the 8th grade, and I thought that was bad. Musically the song slogs through several abstract verses while launching into the pivotal “Ba ba da dum” chorus. Lyrical brilliance. On the other spectrum…*sigh* A perfect microcosm of 90’s alternative rock. Please just watch the video. Breakfast in America limps past Deep Blue Tools due to its merciful 2 and a half minute length. And I feel bad for Gymclass Heroes’ bastardization.

2. Lost (Coldplay) vs. You Found Me (The Fray) – “Lost” starts out heavy, baby, with strong thumping drums and powerful lyrics: “Just because I’m losing / Doesn’t mean I’m lost”. An organ contrasts very nicely with the percussion, and the addition of the guitar near the end of the chorus renders this song extremely effective melodically. Overall, the album Viva La Vida features an above-average effort by Chris Martin on vocals, but this song is one of the mediocre examples; it seems a bit like he phones this one in. “You Found Me” comes from a band that has at one point or another fallen into the pit of bands Matt frowns upon because all of their songs sound the same. Well, they slap me in the face with this one, and with their new album in general. Branching outside the tried-and-true conflicted piano jams, they evolve into a bonafide musical force around this songs 1:00 minute mark, incorporating more crunch than ever before. The lyrics are gloomy, the message disheartening, but there’s a greater feeling of meaning in here than in any of the Fray’s previous notables. Bonus points for being the driving force behind LOST’s Season Five teasers. Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, and in that department Coldplay wins. It’s clear that The Fray are trying to brand themselves as the poor man’s Coldplay. In this instance, the edge goes to the new guys. “Lost” puts up a good fight, but succumbs to You Found Me over the long run.

3. Just Like Heaven (The Cure) vs. Gives You Hell (The All-American Rejects) – Another showdown between the decades, as Robert Smith’s hosstacular 80’s band enters the ring against Tyson Ritter’s powerpunkpop All-American Rejects. Even though “Heaven” came out 22 years ago, it almost seems more relevant today. The lyrics, distinctly about loving, and loving, and loving, and losing, hide behind a predominantly happy guitar riff and chord progression. There lie the similarities to “Hell”, which ticks off the prerequisite 3:30 seconds most radio-ready hits (and nearly all of AAR’s songs) seem to last. “Gives You Hell”, while very well-polished and glossy, easily carries the same force that “Heaven” does. The distinction lies in the intent. “Hell” force feeds you crunching riffs with no other meaning. Just Like Heaven has a power that comes almost like osmosis.

4. Heartbreaker (Pat Benatar) vs. Heartbreaker (Led Zeppelin) – Two rock anthems enter, one rock anthem leaves. It’s important to note that these aren’t the same song. Pat’s tune chronicles Pat being Pat, in a way that is exactly the same in all of her hits: a scorching lyric giving voice to tough feminism standing tall in front of simple, frill-free guitar grooves. Zep’s song features one of the most popular guitar riffs in classic rock history, both for its melody and for the relative ease it takes beginner guitarists to learn. The song, at about two minutes, is one of Zep’s shorter songs, and for that reason is usually coupled with “Livin’ Lovin’ Maid” on the radio. Robert Plant’s lyrics reflect a pathetic woefulness not usually seen: “One thing I do have on my mind, if you can clarify please do / It’s the way you call me by another guy’s name when I try to make love to you.” The start-stop rhythm Led Zeppelin employs works for a while, but kind of wears itself out. A quintessential Jimmy Page solo doesn’t make up for an otherwise middle-of-the-road jam, and Pat wins this one for the girls. Heartbreaker wins either way, but it’s Pat’s straightforward song that doesn’t try for the homerun, just the solid base hit, that takes it.

5. That’s Not My Name (The Ting Tings) vs. You Know My Name (Chris Cornell) – The opening notes of the upstart Ting Tings’ boppin’ jam let you know that two thing: First, you need to know who this band is, because they’re not going anywhere. And second, damn, what an unorthodoxly upbeat and awesome song! The British duo has more than a few things going for them. Lead singer/guitarist Katie White has totally got me crushing. She hits everything on my checklist: Sexy accent, and… well…. That’s about my checklist. Nevertheless, the song hits a wall about three minutes into its five minute span. It almost makes you just want to scream, “Well, what the hell is your name, then?!” A man can only take so much repetitive indie folkrock. On the other hand one can never get enough Daniel Craig, who definitely top 5’s my list of mancrushes. Because Chris Cornell’s song was the title song of Casino Royale, it carries a distinct inherent advantage. Easily the best Bond song since “Live and Let Die”, “Name” barrels through gritty, Ian Fleming-esque verses, to soar on an epic chorus. The brass section put punctuation marks on the song as a whole, and unfortunately The Ting Tings never had a fair shot at things. You Know My Name gets 00 status.

Cheers.

One thing I never inherited from my dad was his voracious reading appetite. My dad probably goes through two or three books a week, while I go through that many maybe in a month or two. And that’s during the school year. It’s not that I don’t like reading, because I do. In fact, when I’m engrossed in a good book, I can sit on my ass for hours on end until I’ve peeled back every last page. I love moments where I read a sentence, or the way the author phrased something, and lean back in my seat and think, “Wow. This guy knows what he’s doing.” But I don’t experience that often enough, and no, it’s not my fault. I’m passing the buck. I blame my environment for my literary laziness.

The digital age has reduced my attention span to just seconds longer than the time it takes Jared Lorenzento make me laugh. If the letters on the page of the book I’m reading aren’t singing, or dancing, or telling me witty one-liners, there’s a good chance I’m paying zero attention to it. Why would I immerse myself in a world that I play no part in? I’m never going to be able to save Gatsby, no matter how many times I read him. But RazzAdi and furstify and Paxt0n? Well, I CAN save them from zombies with the flick of my right joystick and a punch of the right trigger. Those three don’t dress as nice as Gat, but they’ll also be there to respawn with me and live another adventure. My point is, the lure of technology has superseded the lure of the book. For some people, reading is a slow, tiring process. By watching Lord of the Rings, you trim your time-expended down to “only” 9 hours. And you don’t have to think about ANYTHING that’s not in front of you. Who cares if the philosophical deeper meaning of a work is sailing (maybe it’s even whistling) above your head? That’s just fluff anyway, right?

I wish it wasn’t this way, because it’s easy to follow this train of thought and see a day where books are ancient relics of a culture more civilized. Imagine a world where Holden Caulfield, Boo Radley, and Arthur Dent are all redundant. Of course, no one will care. They’ll be too busy hooked up to their Holovision IVs, getting pumped full of precious attention-sustaining liquigel.

This story revolves around the last play I ever acted in. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

To be fair, I should never have even auditioned for this play. It was a musical. Any of you who’ve heard my voice can attest to the fact I sound similar to Michael J. Fox in the basketball scene in Teen Wolf, and believe it or not this was also the case when I was 13. Somehow they were short some extra roles though, and I garnered the role of the Magic Mirror. It was a pretty easy part; I spoke in couplets to the queen, telling her how fugly she was compared to Snow White, etc. Memorizing my lines was never tough for me, and because no one on the cast liked me, I was pretty isolated on the wings. No distractions to prevent me from missing my entrances. Also, Belinda the Costume Nazi had shot for the moon with my outfit. A bejeweled wooden frame outlined my boyish face—a face unblemished of facial hair for a good 5 more years. My tights were more looses, as she was unable to find any size that would cling to my chicken legs. My hands held the rectangular fence up, so my head could thrust through the center of the fabric stretching the length of the frame. This “fabric” was actually the strangely patterned, shiny fabric you find on mattresses. That’s right, MATT’s costume consisted of a MATTress cover. I was called many things: Matt the Magic Mattress. The Mattress King. Queerboy. (Some names were more clever than others, thanks MB.) Belinda was also a heavy chain smoker, so each hour spent in my costume was roughly equivalent to secondhand smoking a pack of cigs.

It never occurred to me to wonder what grievous crime I had committed to wind up looking like the offspring of Bobby Brady and a mattress locked in medieval stocks, a cloud of Nicotine constantly swirling around my head.

The first few shows we put on went smoothly, I came out, made an ass out of myself, got some laughs, and walked off the stage. Rinse, repeat. But on the last night, something horrible happened that irrevocably scarred me.

As I came out in the first act, I got the usual look-at-the-slaveboy-in-the-mattress-painting laughter that my appearance allowed when I first walked on stage. So far, so good. The queen gave me my prompt, I delivered my line. As she responded with her usual wicked retort, I suddenly heard a burst of laughter from the front row. I can still hear it. It started out like an explosion, than quickly guffawed it’s way to absurdity—he sounded like a first-rower at a Foxworthy concert. I tried to identify my assailant, but the lights burned my eyes as I looked outwards. My self-conscious preteen mind struggled to comprehend the laughter. Why was this assclown laughing? I’m sure I thought. I didn’t do anything funny. …On purpose. Oh, God. I did something wrong. What did I do wrong? God, why is this guy laughing? Seriously! What the hell! Oh, Christ. I’m going to ruin this entire play. Did she say her line? What was her line? What’s MY line? Shit, why did that guy LAUGH? Who does that? His mother should be taken out behind the auditorium and beaten with a sock full of marbles. Ok, this is bad. I’m pretty sure the play is still going on, and I don’t know what to say. Jesus, come ON! Who laughs like that?! He sounds like a carnie getting his toenails removed!

As the battle raged in my ADDesque mind, I became dimly aware that the Queen was burning a hole in my mattress. She said her line again, but for all I know it could’ve been for the twelfth time. I looked at her and said my line with a burst of relief. Whew. The scene continued and I scampered off stage as soon as I could. My mind kept running back there though. To the unidentified Man Who Laughed Inappropriately.

I’m convinced to this day that that man’s delayed sense of humor is the reason I’m no longer in acting. The fear of screwing up is still too great for me to get over, and a part of me will always remain a little self-conscious no matter how comfortable I get. I auditioned for one more play after Snow White, but I called the director afterwards and withdrew my name. I was out of the game for good.

There’s not much of a moral here, I’m afraid. Just a sad story of a boy who dreamt big but was cut down before his prime. Incidentally, I saw the video of the play some years later (yes, I do actually own a recorded copy of my most public failure! Jealous?) and it wasn’t nearly as bad as I remember. I still look like a ridiculous eight-year-old Mattress Mona Lisa—who completely forgot his line, I might add—but it wasn’t as epic a failure as it was in my head. My voice could shatter windows though. Prepubescence wasn’t kind to me.

On to my Top Friends!

Name: Binsy

*Yoda voice* The manlove is strong for this one.

Dude, Jake. Honestly, I wish I would’ve met you way before I did. ‘Cause every time I hang out with you I have a really fun time, and to be honest, we don’t hang out nearly enough. You’re a pretty cool person in almost every aspect I can think of. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was jealous of you in my earlier blog. On the outside you just seemed so laid back and cool, and when I got to know you I was surprised at how introspective and thoughtful you are. You are also the furthest person from a douche bag that I have ever met in my entire life. Plus, you’re a badass at golf.

How We Met: I’m sure we met through Taylor at some point or another.

Favorite Memory: “Naughty hottie with a body” Hahahaha! Also, your dad was hilarious on New Year’s Eve.

Cheers.

Ideas for writing hatch periodically throughout the day for me. It’s up to me whether I want to give those ideas a nest, let them grow into fledgling ideas, feed them, spend time with them, let them grow into fully-fleshed thoughts and push them out of the nest; Or, I can neglect them, and ensure they’ll never leave the drafty impermanence of my mind. Sometimes it’ll just be a line or two or character description I think sounds particularly good, other times it will be an “I’ve noticed that…” dealing with eccentricities in our decidedly banal lives. Whatever degree of usefulness the thought holds doesn’t matter. The good ones always survive in twisted, Darwinian fashion.

Sometimes you have to indulge a little. Humor me as I “countdown” my top friends here on Myspace, listing how we met, my favorite memory of them, etc. Mostly this is for my amusement.

Starting at the bottom, first up is Molly.

Wow, Molly. You’ve always been one person I can trust, run to, complain to, confide in, and rely on. You’ve taught me a lot about what being a good friend means, and the impact you’ve left on me is more of a crater. I’m sorry for the way things turned out, Molly. It’s not enough to say that they happened because they were supposed to happen, that that’s what fate had in store. I don’t believe in that. For whatever reasons, things got FUBAR. I’ll miss you.
How We Met: Haha, I don’t remember exactly meeting Molly, but I do remember she told me she loved my family before even knowing me.
Favorite Memory: Plenty to sift through, but I have to say my favorite memories I have of you are when you were in Pennsylvania and I was in Mexico. That seems like it happened decades ago.

Next blog gets Binsy. And more ideas I’ve pushed from the nest.

Cheers.

10. Jungle Love (Steve Miller Band) – “Jungle Love” has aged well. When Steve Miller’s oft-sampled rock ‘n roll gem hits the airwaves, any male in the car is required to pump up the volume and roll their heads from side-to-side, singing along to all the words they know (which had best include the crate of papaya line.) The whistling occurs mostly near the end, and this song would be higher on this list if it was more pronounced. It takes the finale to a new level, though—the guitars fading early and letting the shrill whistle have center stage to end the song.

9. Goodbye Stranger (Supertramp) – The chorus harkens back to the Bee Gees, but the rest of this song screams Supertramp. I don’t typically like or listen to anything that screams Supertramp, but the blog must go on. And while the legacy of this song has been largely reduced to the argument of whether the lyrics are about a one-night stand or quitting marijuana, it still boasts a killer guitar solo and the pre-req whistling just before the 2nd chorus. Also, it deserves a spot on this list for no other reason but this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ky_c-YYMO8s

8. Young Folks (Peter Bjorn and John) – The hipster anthem of 2006 made whistling cool again. Anchored by a solid thweet melody that, like the Centaurian slug, latches on to the brain stem and refuses to let go even hours after a listen to, PB and J (I totally just got that) broke the indiepop wall and made it mainstream. With lyrics that glorify teenage apathy and preach the importance of living in the moment, its success is more satisfying than surprising. Plus, bongos?! Rad! The Kooks made a really good sans whistle cover of this song that’s worth checking out, too.

7. Walk Like An Egyptian (The Bangles) – Ok, so the whistling in this song isn’t real. And Susanna Hoffs’ looks may have propelled this one a little high. But it was voted best song of 1986 so it’s good. And it was banned after September 11th for mentioning Egypt so it’s edgy! And did you see Susanna Hoffs?! Finally, don’t forget it spawned its own dance craze. And I can’t think of a single song that spawned its own dance craze that sucked. Not. A. Single. One.

6. Sittin’ On the Dock by the Bay (Otis Redding) – Otis died in a plane crash shortly before this song came out. Wiki says:

(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” was released in January 1968 amid the fall-out of Redding’s death. R&B stations readily added the song to their playlists, which had been saturated with Redding’s previous hits. The song shot to number one on the R&B charts in early 1968. By early summer of that year, “Dock of the Bay” topped the pop charts. The album, which shared the song’s title, was released and became his largest selling to date, peaking at number four on the Pop Albums chart. “Dock of the Bay” went on to gain success in countries across the world, and brought Redding the greatest success of his career. The song went on to win two Grammy Awards: Best R&B Song (for songwriting) and Best Male R&B Vocal Performance (for vocals).

Wow. The whistling near the end adds gravity to the song’s carefree message.

5. Bad Sun (The Bravery) – Masters of irony, The Bravery seem to always combine melancholy lyrics and boppy melodies to fantastic results. “Bad Sun” is just a slice from The Sun And The Moon—their most recent album—that marries the two so effortlessly. The thweets in this song are 100% real, as evidenced by the live clips on youtube, and if that weren’t awesome enough it has a whistling/mandolin solo! Like “Young Folks”, this song should come with a warning. Should the tune get lodged in your head, nothing short of a lobotomy can get it out.

4. Centerfold (The J. Geils Band) – Two memories are closely tied to this song for me. When I was about 12, I told the lyrics of this song to Ashley Furstenberg and I remember us both being thrilled by how naughty it was. Sixth grade Matt couldn’t comprehend how something this blatantly filthy could make it on the radio. Had I heard “Darling Nikki” I think my head might’ve explode, a la Scanners. Secondly, the whistling bit always has me singing along, “Do you know the Muffin Man?” because that melody is so similar. Other than that, just a great all-whistle outro. Man, the 80’s loved their whistling.

3. The Stranger (Billy Joel) – Billy Joel just turned 60, so let’s start out with some congratulations. For a man who once tried to kill himself by downing furniture polish (he said it looked tastier than bleach), he’s certainly outlived all expectations, haha. 1977’s “The Stranger” starts slow and reflective, turning to that tried-and-true whistle/piano combo, before launching into a more guitar-centric pop rock standard. The tone of the song stays reflective though; the lyrics explore the idea that everyone has a stranger in them, a part of themselves they take out only when everyone else has gone. Then the piano and whistling kicks back in to bookend the song. Taken as a whole, one of Billy’s best, imo.

2. Games Without Frontiers (Peter Gabriel) – Possibly the scariest music video I’ve ever seen. I guess he decided that if the song itself didn’t make a lot of sense, why should the video? There’s actually some deep meaning behind the lyrics about government ideologies and agendas, but why get into that when instead we can focus on an armada of whistles that barrage us at each chorus? It makes its way this far up the list on the whistling alone. Bonus for having lyrics about whistling: “Whistling tunes we hide in the dunes by the seaside / Whistling tunes we piss on the goons in the jungle.” I still like Phil Collins more.

1. The Fishin’ Hole (The Andy Griffith Show Theme) (Earle Hagen) – It put whistling on the map, in Mayberry to be precise, and made it popular to put that shrill noise your face makes when you put your lips together and blow into songs. No tolerance for vocals.

Honorable mentions:

sweet georgia brown (Harlem Globetrotters Theme) – brother bones
nervous tic motion of the head to the left –andrew bird…check him out, he’s insane
don’t worry, be happy –bobbi mcferrin
daydream – lovin’ spoonful
me and Julio down by the schoolyard – paul simon

Cheers.

I have to put something like that because it always seems like when guys talk about sports girls get mad. They roll their eyes, and shake their heads and don’t understand us.

Once upon a time, deep in the heartland of America, a skinny high school boy decides to go out for football. He plays well enough to walk on to the University of Northern Iowa where he sits on the bench, buried deep in the depth chart. Finally, in his senior seasion, he gets his chance. He strings together a great set of games to secure the Gateway Conference’s Offensive Player of the Year and lives happily ever after, the end.

But what if it doesn’t end there? What if that kid didn’t give up on his dream? He tries out with the Green Bay Packers in ’94. They cut him. He goes back to Iowa to be an assistant graduate coach, getting a second job working the night shift at a local Hy-Vee grocery store, all the while keeping his fingers crossed the scouts will call him. When the opportunity to join the Iowa Barnstormers arises, he takes it, just happy to be playing football. He finally achieves vindication in ’97 when he leads the Barnstormers to back-to-back Arena Bowl appearances. He rides out into the sunset and lives happily ever after, the end.

But what if it doesn’t end THERE? The dude gets signed by the St. Louis Rams in 1998. They ship him out to Amsterdam to play NFL Europe. He turns in a solid performance and gets called up to the big leagues. Finally getting the chance he’s always wanted and only after Trent Green gets hurt, he goes NUTS–turning in one of the best seasons a quarterback has ever had. He wins the NFL MVP award, dominates the playoffs, and clinches the Super Bowl (and the Super Bowl MVP award) by a yard against Tennessee. Out of nowhere. Ok surely this is the end of the movie, right? Nope.

For whatever reasons, injuries get to him and he’s forced out of his starting job by another anonymous gunslinger–Marc Bulger. Bulger’s performance (he currently ranks third alltime in completion percentage: only Chad Pennington and, what a surprise, *Kurt Warner* rank higher than him) renders our hero obsolete and he loses his job. Picked up by the Giants, he quickly loses his job again to rookie Eli Manning. Next he’s shipped out to Arizona–where quarterbacks go to die. Instead of rolling over and letting the last few seasons of his career twinkle out, he stays resilient and often tagteams with the supposed next-big-thing in Matt Leinart. After Leinart coughs up his starting job, the now-aged gunslinger who we’ve followed through the whole movie gets one final shot at redemption….

Gives me goosebumps, and I don’t even really like Arizona. His story is just amazing. I think the Steelers will win the big one, but I hope it’s Warner. It would be a great way to end a crazy career.

As for the Lakers…not much to say, other than it’s lonely at the top. =]

Cheers.

- All came after 1970. Sorry Ray Charles and Jerry Lee Lewis….and Beethoven.

- Exclude what I call PianoCrap. You see, when I was doing the research for this blog I noticed an eerie but consistent trend: during the musical debauchery that was the 1980′s, nearly every elite rock act put out a hit that featured a piano intro. I’m not sure who pioneered this trend, but I feel bad for them. Because although it was a great idea, it’s like watching a Will Ferrell movie. The first time it’s great, but they all sound the same and so many flood the market it’s embarrassing and ridiculous. Don’t believe me? How about “Beth” by Kiss? “Come Sail Away?” Try Motley Crue’s “Home Sweet Home”, or Van Halen’s “Right Now”. Even Bob Seger succombed with “Old Time Rock ‘N Roll”. Maybe the most famous of all is “Don’t Stop Believin’”. These songs, while they must be individually judged for their merit, can all be labeled PianoCrap.

- All are by different artists. If I was honest, this list would quickly turn into a Billy Joel / Ben Folds battle, and while those pianists kick ass, it’s no fun to write about seven different Billy Joel songs.

On to the list!

10. Somewhere Only We Know by Keane – The members of Keane are masters at modern piano-rock. Here’s a band that until their third album never used a guitar at all–and they’re one of the UK’s most-popular bands. “Somewhere” showcases their ability to center an emotive lyric around a steady, catchy piano riff. While some of their other stuff has more of a rock crunch, this song worked because of the softer melody. It’s a very introspective and awesome song.

9. Butterflies and Hurricanes by Muse – Another UK trio, Muse’s jam is definitely a far cry from Keane. Part of the reason the piano is so great is its versatility. It can be easily meshed in with rock instruments, or stand alone, to powerful effects. The former is on display in this gem. The title of the song comes from the idea behind the butterfly effect: That the flap of a butterflies’ wings can cause a hurricane across the world. The soft piano represents the butterfly, while the smash of the guitar… you get the idea. Muse often compliments their powerful sound with a piano, but this is the best example.

8. Werewolves of London by Warren Zevon – This classic 1978 has been more recently bastardized by Kid Rock in his “song” “All Summer Long”. The piano riff Warren created is extremely simple, but catchy, and the whole idea behind the song is really cool. Every time I hear this song I think of Tom Cruise in The Color of Money. “His hair…was perfect…” I kinda resent giving the link to the video because I know it won’t be taken as seriously, but I couldn’t resist. Just a great piano song.

7. Maybe I’m Amazed by Wings/Paul McCartney – Paul McCartney has always been a beast when it comes to writing love songs, but this one stands head and shoulders above the rest. The passion in his voice is reflected in the piano which anchors the song. While the guitars fade in and out, the piano is always there with Paul’s voice. The video for the song is also something special–a sort of scrapbook of Paul’s family. It really emphasizes just how honest he’s being in the song. It’s surprising when you consider that Paul’s most poignant love song didn’t surface when he was with The Beatles.

6. Imagine by John Lennon – As good as Paul’s song was, his Beatles-better-half tops him without question. Here’s a song that may have been unfairly elevated in pop culture due to John Lennon’s untimely death, but not by much. A top-notch song by all standards: “You may say I’m a dreamer / But I’m not the only one”; that, ladies and gentlemen, is classic. And besides a few drum beats, it’s just a genius and a piano. Rolling Stone gave it 3rd Best Song of All-Time. It was the UK’s 1 song for ALL of 1981. And Bob Dylan performed this song in Times Square on the eve of John Lennon’s assassination. It’s a magical song.

5. The Scientist by Coldplay – I’ll forever be sorry I once hated these guys. While they use the piano on a lot of songs, including all of their hits pre-Viva like “Clocks” and “Speed of Sound” and Yellow”, “The Scientist has the deepest lyrics, and a brilliant music video. Seriously, if you were planning on skipping all of the videos in this blog, please just watch this one. Chris Martin at his angstiest propels this song into the top five.

4. Brick by Ben Folds Five – Wow. Where to start on this song? It’s so powerful, I get goosebumps. Ben Folds is a brilliant pianist and songwriter–two or three of his songs could’ve maybe cracked the list, and everything comes together so well on this track it’s spooky. Unlike his usual humor-laced piano rock badassery, Ben softens the ivory-pounding on this one and lets the true story of his high school girlfriend’s abortion slowly sink in. Listening to the song intently, it’s impossible not to be moved and the build up before the final chorus is the emotional high-point (or, rather, low-point) of the whole four and a half minute masterpiece.

3. Thunder Road by Bruce Springsteen – Dad, this is for you. The Boss topped my top songwriters list and any argument there can be quelled with a listen to this song. The opening piano sets the mood of youth’s desperate escape to a place beyond and the piano invokes a certain continuity throughout. The powerful ending couples piano with sax and fades out into a dusty night on Thunder Road. Never has a non-pianist rocker ever so effectively used a piano.

2. Your Song by Elton John – When you think of legendary piano rockers two names usually come to mind. One has yet to be featured on this list. The other is Elton John. “Your Song” is one of the greatest love songs of all-time. It’s just him and his piano out there, singing a heartfelt tribute. This song exemplifies the piano’s beauty–because of that, this song edges out “Rocket Man” which I really wanted to put on here, but just couldn’t justify. Other Elton hits that just missed the cut were “Daniel”, “Tiny Dancer”, and “Levon”. The dude is a such a beast on the piano. In fact, only one is more beastly. Sorry people, no surprising ending here….

1. Piano Man by Billy Joel – At first glance, Piano Man is just a good-feeling, piano-centric rock anthem. But really, it’s a window into the lonely life of a traveling musician. The lyrics are pretty literal but also hint at the wistful nature of the whole scene. There’s an underlying feeling of underachievement, of not living up to potential, that’s inherent in being at this bar. The bartender wants to be a movie star. The patrons “slowly get stoned”, while “sharing a drink they call loneliness / But it’s better than drinking alone.” All of this under the umbrella of a fantastic, driving piano pop melody by a man who’s made his niche in piano pop melodies. While “Miami 2012″ and “Angry Young Man” maybe better showcase Joel’s talent on the keys, it’s the message behind the song that matters. It’s a tribute to the instrument that made Billy Joel something, and it echos far beyond the final classic note.

Honorable Mentions:

November Rain by Guns ‘N Roses would’ve made the list…if it weren’t PianoCrap.
On The Radio by Regina Spektor
How To Save A Life by The Fray

Cheers.