Song of the Day: "Fire and Bone" by The Killers

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You can't tell me Brian Eno didn't have a hand in "Fire In Bone"— a 2020 single from Imploding the Mirage, the' sixth studio album by The Killers—if only via inspiration.  I could look it up, but sometimes a gal's just too tired to Wikipedia. 

My song of the day also follows a now-familiar pattern, in which the Killers purposely straddle myriad eras. You can hear it in the rollicking rock 'n roll wild west romp that is Sam's Town and in the disco-kissed flavor of a number of subsequent songs. 

A we move further through "Fire in Bone," we find ourself ensconced firmly in the '80s.  Brandon Flowers' wavering voice channels more than a bit #gray Bruce Springsteen's Rage Against the Lonesome Inner Fire growl. 

The Killers are always redefining themselves. I've been away, but I have a feeling I"m going to enjoy catching up with these gents.

—Sarah Torribio

Flash Fiction: "General Sharpe"

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Random Musing: The student has become the teacher. . .

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I'm renewing myself. For instance, I'm back to learning piano and reading music. I've got out childhood and teenhood instructional piano books, books with the sheet music for the Cranberries album No Need to Argue and the Tori Amos album Boys for Pele. Yes, I'm that old and cool.

I need to find my Smiths album The Queen is Dead song book because "Frankly, Mr. Shankly" is one of the most fun and satisfying songs you can ever play on piano. It's fun, bracing and vigorous. I've cadged a few of my mom's books, like the sheet music for Joni Mitchell songs. I've also been freestyling, picking out gems like "Welcome to the Black Parade" by My Chemical Romance.

This kind of soul-enriching activity is necessary because, among other endeavors, I have a gig substitute teaching. It's been third grade the last few days and I see way too much of my younger self in the class clowns, avid talkers, messy desk-ers and mischief-makers.

The job is not a goldmine, but I was able to pay for Alex's new glasses today. That was cool.

I'm happy to be employed and have schools open here in Utah. (Everyone's wearing masks and the kids' hands are sanitized a good six times a day, bye the bye.)

But the kids can be exhausting. You have to prowl a classroom throughout the day to stem the tide of talking, giggling and hijinks like perching rather than sitting on a chair; stealthily consuming Takis; logging onto YouTube; sleeping; drawing pictures from the video game "Among Us," hitting oneself, and, in one anime-plagued classroom, trading Pokémon cards.

(Mad props to all my friends who are teachers or subs. You've got to bring it constantly to avoid losing your class and surrendering to chaos.)

Luckily, the students are also friendly and helpful. For instance, there's always a kid who's willing to provide tech support and two dozen kids willing to run the roll sheet over to the office. (Some things never change.)

Students around these parts are generally kind to each other and often give me drawings, homemade cards and gifts. The kid who misbehaved the most often during my latest assignment made me a little present today. He probably fashioned it when he was supposed to be doing something else, but such is life.

It's a little door, drawn with crayons and folded paper, that opens. Inside it looks like a book and has a rainbow and the words, "You've got to love a good teacher." It's laminated with tape. That kind of gesture is just plain good for the soul.

This job is going to make me a better person, I know it. And as Martha Stewart says, "It's a good thing."

P.S.-Does anyone else think prison is the best thing that happened to Martha Stewart? She lost her facade of perfection and gained a sense of humor.

—Sarah Torribio

Song of the Day: "Faith Healer" by Julien Baker

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My song of the Day is "Faith Healer" by indie singer/songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Julien Baker. There's a lovely sense of mood in this little masterpiece, elevated by dynamics. Baker's voice is winning, too, an alto just kissed by appealing vocal fry.  

I came across this American artist on my favorite music sharing/recommending site LetsLoop and will be delving deeper into this young lady's catalog. 

—Sarah Torribio

Song of the Day: "Cemetry Gates" by The Smiths

 

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I learned to write plot and dialogue from Stephen King, whom I started reading at an unconscionably young age.

Then I learned to write music and poetry from Morrissey of The Smiths and his prolific solo career. My love for the man goes beyond nostalgia. He is such an amazing lyricist. (I've come to realize, however, that Johnny Marr speaks as many volumes with his guitar.)

He taught me that you can use words to create momentum, or a mood. That rhymes are good, but rhythm is equally important. That you can be sad and angry at the same time. That I wasn't the only disaffected person who found the world nearly as confusing as myself.

Some of the lines that are forever branded bond into my mind are not even from my favorite Smiths songs and they're not always charming and pretty. But that cadence. That self-deprecating wit. The hatred and the empathy.

Here's a small list. I could go on for hours but I don't want to reveal the depth of my monomania.

*The numbers don't represent rank. They just lend a sense of order to my inner wanderings.)

1) "Nowhere Fast"

"I'd like to drop my trousers to the queen.I am a man of means—of slender means. Each household appliance is like a new science in my town. And when a train goes by it's such a sad sound."

2) "Frankly, Mr. Shankly" (Basically a gleeful and capering resignation letter.)

Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held

It pays my way and it corrodes my soul

I want to leave, you will not miss me

I want to go down in musical history

3) "Still Ill"

"I decree today that life is simply taking and not giving. England is mine, and it owes me a living."

4) "How Soon Is Now?"

"I am the son and the heir

of a shyness that is criminally vulgar.

I am the son and heir of nothing in particular.

You shut your mouth

How can you say

I go about things the wrong way?

I am human and I need to be loved

just like everybody else does."

Sometimes Morrissey employs words with euphony, so they come out of your mouth easily and trippingly. Other times, he uses cacophony, where words are better spat than sung.

More than anything, I love the way Morrissey shows that you can write about tragic things with perspective and wit. Take the positively joyous "Cemetry Gates."

—Sarah Torribio

Song of the Day: "Lady Writer" by Dire Straits

 

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I'm a lady writer, and I'm striving to become a good one. So forgive me if I like the 1979 song "Lady Writer" by Dire Straits based on the title alone. 

As I get older I'm catching up with something I was never exposed to. The songs by Dire Straits that got little airplay, at least during my '80s and '90s growing-up days. 

The more I listen, the more I appreciate Dire Strait's rambling, roaming river of sound. Led by singer/guitarist/producer Mark Knoffler, the band's guitar is pure flow. 

—Sarah Torribio

Song of the Day: "Lose Your Head" by London Grammar

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I'm one of those impatient music consumers who skips a song if it doesn't grab me right off the bat. I decided to give London Grammar the benefit of the doubt and I'm glad. The beat, albeit a gentle beat, drops at 42 seconds, followed by a sticks-with-you chorus: "You say you miss me now. What a way to lose your head."

By 2:43, timing wise, the beat doubles and the keening of Hanna Reed's silky keening intensifies. The cumulative result is a pretty and momentous indie pop/dreampop song. 

—Sarah Torribio

Song of the Day: "The Bandit" by Kings of Leon

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My song of the day is "The Bandit" by Kings of Leon. It's a single off the band's forthcoming 8th studio album "When You See Yourself," set for release on March 5, 2021. 

This song has the kind of energy I've needed for months: rocking, rollicking, caucus and slightly overwrought. The especially lovely guitar is served three ways, entwined to wall-of-sound effect: shoegaze jangly, Foofighters-driving and guitar-hero soaring. If this sneak preview is any indication, the record should be divine. 

—Sarah Torribio

Song of the Day: "Chemtrails Over the Country Club" by Lana Del Rey

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My song of the day is another Lana Del Rey gem, "Chemtrails Over the Country Club." The new single is off the album of the same name, set to drop on March 19. 

It follows the trademark trope of the darkly glamorous singer/songwriter. Lyrical nostalgia. Transcendent beauty. Pleasure that brooks no moral code. and, as ever, a subterranean current of doom and decadence waiting to surface. 

Also, shout out to Ms. Del Rey for acknowledging the criss-cross nature of today's skies.

—Sarah Torribio

Song of the Day: "Close to Me" by The Cure

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Do you ever listen to a song you've always liked, and feel it's the first time you've paid it proper attention? That's the case with my song of the day, "Close to Me" by The Cure. 

I've always viewed "Close to Me"—one of the big singles off the band's 1985 Head on the Door album— as being one of the band's "lite" songs. I've considered the song a playful romp, due to its upbeat and buoyant tone and a keyboard riff that sounds like a child's toy xylophone. 

The song is radio-friendly and imminently danceable. So you might be tempted to paraphrase that old Wendy's commercial and ask where's the goth? I think it can best be found in the fever dream lyrics of then heroin-addicted Cure frontman Robert Smith. He spends quite a bit of time in the song wishing he could be sure that "the head on the door" he once envisioned is only a dream. 

Back to my latest musical reverie, in which I gained more perspective on "Close to Me." This song is actually intricate and genius, init? (I like to pretend I'm cool by nicking English slang.)

Between drum beats, synth claps and Robert Smith's just-finished-a-5K panting, it's percussively effervescent. It's also quite the wall of sound, with an airy symphonic flute eventually descending followed by some unexpectedly fat and jazzy horns. 

Call me impulsive, but I'm moved to make a New Year's Resolution. I plan to listen to The Cure's entire catalog in a state of mindfulness. Better late than never, and also namaste.

—Sarah Torribio