40 Songs, 40 Days (2011 Edition), Day Thirty Four: Punk Rock Princess by Something Corporate

Amongst the reasons to break up a band. 'I have leukemia'
is pretty high up there...

I usually don't have much respect for emocore bands....but there's something about Something Corporate that has always attracted me. To the best of my knowledge, it's the only band that I turned the Penguin onto, and it's one whose finiteness is part of its charm.

I first discovered the band when I was sorting through a collection of holiday themed songs I had downloaded. In amongst the dross that I have long since forgotten was 'Forget December,' the band's paen to acknowledging that Christmas cheer doesn't heal familial dysfunction...and I loved the dark, moody composition, as well as the expressive vocals of Andrew McMahon. Unlike the other emocore bands I have heard, whose vocalists seem to be affecting their angst, McMahon seems thoroughly sincere. It helps, of course, that some of SC's songs take joy in a life that all their peers seem incapable of; I defy anyone to listen to, "I Woke Up In A Car," or "She Paints Me Blue" and not be a lil' uplifted by the nugget of hope McMahon's vocals hold out.

The band only put out three albums and an EP before going on a hiatus. Initially that hiatus was supposed to be temporary so McMahon and the other band members could explore other avenues. Hell, McMahon formed his own side project, Jack's Manniquin, that...well, I wasn't as thrilled with...and then was diagnosed with leukemia. This made the hiatus permanent, although in light of McMahon's remission the band has recently reunited to tour in support of a greatest hits album.

"Punk Rock Princess" is the first single off their first major release, Leaving Through The Window, and it's one of my favorite tracks of theirs. At its core it's a natural descendant of those silly pop singles where a guy or a girl (or both in duet form) pledge his or her love to the romantic interest of their choice...only this is Love In The Oughts, which means that this star-struck teen's perception of puppy love has been filtered through the dirty glass of a post-modern world...so he's not pledging to hold her hand and buy her an ice-cream soda; he's pledging to let her 'think him whole' and to be her 'Garage Band King.' And throughout all this, he's not even sure this is the love of his life--he's accepting, even looking for, things missing in her that he can't replace. He's accepting that this is not going to be forever, that her very nature assures that the relationship won't last, so all he wants is to be her, ummmm, heroin....

And I have to admit--I personally don't think that this song would hit me so hard if it wasn't for the work of both drummer Brian Ireland and guitarist Josh Partington. The licks these two put down fills out the song, amplifying the desperation in McMahon's vocals. I like to imagine the rhythm created by those two are McMahon's heartbeat as he's confessing his attraction to the object of his affection, ready to be shot down even after he assures her he is not expecting more than a brief respite from their respective loneliness.

I think it's telling that while there are one or two songs from Jack's Manniquin that I tolerate, even like, I have never had the sheer mania for that later project that I have for Something Corporate. But then, even with McMahon promising a fourth album sometime soon out of nostalgia, I kind of wonder if Something Corporate is better served by just being a band that existed for three years, put out a consistently great body of work, and then disappeared forever.

Here is the official video....

　

40 Songs, 40 Days (2011 Edition), Day Thirteen: Someday You Will Be Loved by Death Cab For Cutie

And for tonight's entry...emo as grand guignol theater, the light version.

Don't get me wrong, though--this is not exactly meant as a slam. I've liked Death Cab For Cutie ever since I heard 'Soul Meets Body' on one of my co-worker's iPods (there was a comical few weeks when I would hear the song and ask him 'who is this band?', to which he'd roll his eyes and remind me he had already told me). What appeals to me is not just the band's sound, which conceals echoes of shoegaze and dream pop in its arrangements, but the fact that they--like their bigger brother, The Decemberists--know the power of telling tales. Ben Gibbard doesn't just paint a picture with his music; he spins these grand gothic tableaus of loss and sadness, tragedy and disaster. Yes, on some level I know I'm too old to be affected by this sort of neo-romantic tatt...but on another level I hope I never outgrow the capacity to appreciate the melodramatic charms of this band.

This is a pretty hopeful song even though it is, at its core, a story about a man fleeing in the face of romance. Yes, Gibbard runs and deserts his lover in the middle of night (presumably to run to Zoe Deschanel...sigh)...but he leaves a note that tells her that the thought of him will fade away, and in their place will be new memories of the man she's going to find, the man to whom her heart belongs to now even though she hasn't met him yet. It's a bittersweet message, made all the more bittersweet given the arrangement that sounds both modern and yet also of another, older time...

And for the record, I don't resent Ben Gibbard for going home to Zoe Deschanel every night. Really, I don't.

Here's the cool stop-motion video for the song. Later videos from the band are more in keeping with the 'here's the band, and here they are performing' aesthetics, but I find this sort of unsteady, wonky method of getting their songs across more appropriate...