Favorite Song #1: "Album of the Year"

I decided to review a song somewhat periodically so that my favorite bits of music would get the attention they deserve. I chose to make The Good Life's "Album of the Year" my first because every time I listen to this song, I think, that might be the best song I've ever heard.

The frontman of The Good Life, Tim Kasher, is a genius songwriter, telling the stories of lost love and loneliness that progress over the course of a year, encapsulated in the twelve tracks (months) of this album. The opener is April, and like the rhyme "april showers bring may flowers," metaphorically the song presents both the melancholy of loss and hope for the future.

This album has been aptly described as "Catchy, moody, pop rock that fluctuates between the all-ages club and the smoky cabaret, right alongside sing-along crescendos that spin into cinematic bursts," and it's these bursts, like on this track, that make this band so engaging.

Kasher recounts the story of a relationship, from when they met until the last time they saw each other, reminiscing on important little moments, while only hinting at what caused their demise. The key to this song, I believe, is that the music perfectly complements the lyrics, in that the emotional parts of the music follow the emotional parts of the song. It seems that the way he sings this song is exactly how he would sing it if he were simply recalling his ended relationship. If you've ever felt any of the feelings he releases, you'll get into this song and it will seem like it's your own.

Anyway, here's the song (listen to it loudly):

Album of the Year.mp3

...And the lyrics:

The first time that I met her I was throwing up in the ladies room stall. She asked me if I needed anything; I said, “I think I spilled my drink.” And that’s how it started (or so I’d like to believe)...

She took me to her mother’s house outside of town where the stars hang down. She said she’d never seen someone so lost, I said I’d never felt so found – and then I kissed her on the cheek... and so she kissed me on the mouth.

Spring was poppin’ daises up ‘round rusted trucks and busted lawn chairs. We moved into a studio in Council Bluffs to save a couple bucks...Where the mice came out at night, neighbors were screaming all the time. We’d make love in the afternoons to Chelsea Girls and Bachelor No. 2. I’d play for her some songs I wrote, she’d joke and say I’m shooting through the roof, I’d say, “They’re all for you, dear, I’ll write the album of the year.”

And I know she loved me then, I swear to God she did. It's way she’d bite my lower lip and push her hips against my hips and dig her nails so deep into my skin.

The first time that I met her I was convinced I had finally found the one. She was convinced I was under the influence of all those drunken romantics – I was reading Fante at the the time – I had Bukowski on the mind. She got a job at Jacob’s serving cocktails to the local drunks. Against her will I fit the the bill: I perched down at the end of the bar. She Said, “Space is not just a place for stars – I gave you an inch, you want a house with a yard.” And I know she loved me once, but those days are gone. She used to call me everyday from a pay phone on her break for lunch – just to say she can’t wait to come home.

The last time that I saw her she was picking through which records were hers. Her clothes were packed in boxes, with some pots and pans and books and a toaster. Just then a mouse scurried across the floor.....we started laughing ‘til it didn’t hurt...