I took two CDs with me yesterday for a fairly long drive, one of them being State Songs by John Linnell and the other Bossanova by the Pixies. Shockingly, the driver's side speakers decided to work this time, so I could listen to my stereo in, well, stereo.
State Songs is really amazingly good. I suspect that the only people who bought it were a subset of They Might Be Giants fans, but it deserved better.
The album is built around an old Wurlitzer band organ, the kind of thing you'd find at the center of a carousel. And yeah, ok, it does give the whole thing this kind of weird circus feel. But it lends every song it is a part of a kind of sad degraded majesty.
State Songs is exactly what it claims to be, namely, a bunch of songs named after states. In theory, according to Linnell, they are sort of supposed to be alternative state anthems, or at least that was the original intention. But things mutated a bit during the many years these songs were be writing. And, beyond that, none of them actually have anything to do with the state they are named after. Or rather, they don't have much. Consider:
Track 1: Illinois. A Wurlitzer-based instrumental. Very circusy. This album does not ease you into the weirdness, but there are some pieces of pure pop majesty later on, honest. Does the song sound like Illinois? I have no idea.
Track 2: The Songs of the 50 States. The album's manifesto. "I'm not gonna say they're great / I ain't gonna say they're great"
Track 3: West Virginia. One of my favorites. I think it would have made a good single, not that the real single wasn't good. It is perhaps the most statelike of the songs, being an odd little parable about recursion, taken from West Virginia's status as being kind of tucked into the side of Virginia. "There's another deep inside you and inside the other one / there is another / in the other"
Track 4: South Carolina. A song about a bicycle accident Linnell had long ago. This tends to come up a lot in his songs, in some form another, as we'll see when we get to Montana. "And I won some damages and they were punitive / by which I mean the punishment was damaging"
Track 5: Idaho. Supposedly inspired by an acid experience John Lennon reported having. It's about driving a house to Idaho. It is quiet and dreamy, and perfect late-night driving music.
Track 6: Montana. Montana is one of Linnell's songs about people in hospitals. There are a lot of these. But more specific, they tend to be songs about people in hospitals who are either worse off than they think, or who are busy denying their illness or injury, in kind of strange, maybe even metaphysical ways. I suppose that might make for a good entry all in itself. Maybe next week. In this song, a man has had an epiphany about the state, which frees him up for leaving the hospital. (Although not in the sense of his getting better.)
Track 7: Pennsylvania. Violin instrumental. I have less to say about the instrumentals, though they are good. This one is fairly slight, though. It does contain the word "Pennsylvania." And quite a few la la la's.
Track 8: Utah. This is where that sad decrepit majesty part comes in. These band organ things work like player pianos, on printed rolls which encode the necessary stops. But they can't exactly process a lot of information at once, so the results are fairly limited. The organ sounds like something that used to be impressive, but whose salad days are long gone. Which is sort of what this song, and certainly what the last big organ-heavy song is about. "I forget you / I forget Utah"
Track 9: Arkansas. Maybe my other favorite. About a ship built to the exact dimensions of the state. No, it never really addresses why, but the song speculates that if (when?) Arkansas itself is drowned by the ocean, the ship might return and replace it.
Track 10: Iowa. Iowa is a witch. Dig that crazy woodblock! Also features a dustbuster.
Track 11: Mississippi. A kind of slow and gregarious march. Instrumental.
Track 12: Maine. The singer and the state have this weird love/hate codependency thing going on. "Maine is the poison you love / Maine is the hell from above" This an Oregon are least likely to actually be adopted as state anthems, I think.
Track 13: Oregon. Oregon is bad. And, well, that's about it. Run away, run away, as the song says.
Track 14: Michigan. This one sounds a lot like a state college fight song, and could be, if, say, the University of Michigan was some sort of quickly-breeding microorganism. "Oh Michigan, exemplar / of unchecked replication"
Track 15: New Hampshire. The Wurlitzer in all its awful glory, relating the tale of a person no one likes. "Woman wonders 'Who's your itchy friend?' / Woman says 'I thought he was with you?'"
Track 16: Nevada. A marching band kind of song. In fact, literally, since the drum track is from a live recording of some random marching band. After the very short song part of the song, it goes on for a long time as the band fades into the distance and people on the street begin to leave and traffic starts to pick up. I'm not so thrilled with super long last tracks on albums that consist of found sound or a single note held for fifteen minutes (I'm looking squarely at you, Sunshine Fix.) And yet at least three really good albums I own do this. Alas.
If you happen to come across this album, or get a chance to hear some of these songs somewhere, I strongly suggest you give it or them a chance. You will like it. Maybe. I hope.
State Songs is really amazingly good. I suspect that the only people who bought it were a subset of They Might Be Giants fans, but it deserved better.
The album is built around an old Wurlitzer band organ, the kind of thing you'd find at the center of a carousel. And yeah, ok, it does give the whole thing this kind of weird circus feel. But it lends every song it is a part of a kind of sad degraded majesty.
State Songs is exactly what it claims to be, namely, a bunch of songs named after states. In theory, according to Linnell, they are sort of supposed to be alternative state anthems, or at least that was the original intention. But things mutated a bit during the many years these songs were be writing. And, beyond that, none of them actually have anything to do with the state they are named after. Or rather, they don't have much. Consider:
Track 1: Illinois. A Wurlitzer-based instrumental. Very circusy. This album does not ease you into the weirdness, but there are some pieces of pure pop majesty later on, honest. Does the song sound like Illinois? I have no idea.
Track 2: The Songs of the 50 States. The album's manifesto. "I'm not gonna say they're great / I ain't gonna say they're great"
Track 3: West Virginia. One of my favorites. I think it would have made a good single, not that the real single wasn't good. It is perhaps the most statelike of the songs, being an odd little parable about recursion, taken from West Virginia's status as being kind of tucked into the side of Virginia. "There's another deep inside you and inside the other one / there is another / in the other"
Track 4: South Carolina. A song about a bicycle accident Linnell had long ago. This tends to come up a lot in his songs, in some form another, as we'll see when we get to Montana. "And I won some damages and they were punitive / by which I mean the punishment was damaging"
Track 5: Idaho. Supposedly inspired by an acid experience John Lennon reported having. It's about driving a house to Idaho. It is quiet and dreamy, and perfect late-night driving music.
Track 6: Montana. Montana is one of Linnell's songs about people in hospitals. There are a lot of these. But more specific, they tend to be songs about people in hospitals who are either worse off than they think, or who are busy denying their illness or injury, in kind of strange, maybe even metaphysical ways. I suppose that might make for a good entry all in itself. Maybe next week. In this song, a man has had an epiphany about the state, which frees him up for leaving the hospital. (Although not in the sense of his getting better.)
Track 7: Pennsylvania. Violin instrumental. I have less to say about the instrumentals, though they are good. This one is fairly slight, though. It does contain the word "Pennsylvania." And quite a few la la la's.
Track 8: Utah. This is where that sad decrepit majesty part comes in. These band organ things work like player pianos, on printed rolls which encode the necessary stops. But they can't exactly process a lot of information at once, so the results are fairly limited. The organ sounds like something that used to be impressive, but whose salad days are long gone. Which is sort of what this song, and certainly what the last big organ-heavy song is about. "I forget you / I forget Utah"
Track 9: Arkansas. Maybe my other favorite. About a ship built to the exact dimensions of the state. No, it never really addresses why, but the song speculates that if (when?) Arkansas itself is drowned by the ocean, the ship might return and replace it.
Track 10: Iowa. Iowa is a witch. Dig that crazy woodblock! Also features a dustbuster.
Track 11: Mississippi. A kind of slow and gregarious march. Instrumental.
Track 12: Maine. The singer and the state have this weird love/hate codependency thing going on. "Maine is the poison you love / Maine is the hell from above" This an Oregon are least likely to actually be adopted as state anthems, I think.
Track 13: Oregon. Oregon is bad. And, well, that's about it. Run away, run away, as the song says.
Track 14: Michigan. This one sounds a lot like a state college fight song, and could be, if, say, the University of Michigan was some sort of quickly-breeding microorganism. "Oh Michigan, exemplar / of unchecked replication"
Track 15: New Hampshire. The Wurlitzer in all its awful glory, relating the tale of a person no one likes. "Woman wonders 'Who's your itchy friend?' / Woman says 'I thought he was with you?'"
Track 16: Nevada. A marching band kind of song. In fact, literally, since the drum track is from a live recording of some random marching band. After the very short song part of the song, it goes on for a long time as the band fades into the distance and people on the street begin to leave and traffic starts to pick up. I'm not so thrilled with super long last tracks on albums that consist of found sound or a single note held for fifteen minutes (I'm looking squarely at you, Sunshine Fix.) And yet at least three really good albums I own do this. Alas.
If you happen to come across this album, or get a chance to hear some of these songs somewhere, I strongly suggest you give it or them a chance. You will like it. Maybe. I hope.
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