January 11, 2004
Seven Songs That Saved My Life


You know that feeling, don't you, when you're hearing a new song for the first time, and you get that particular sense, that certain prescience that this song is going to play an important role in your life from now on?

That's one of my favorite feelings in the world.

In 2003 I had several of those moments. Moments where a song walked up to me, shook my hand, and told me that it was in charge of keeping me alive for the next few weeks.

It's hard to pinpoint those moments. They get lost so quickly. But this year, I decided to make a list of those moments as they happened. So this entry is all about those moments and those songs: seven favorites of the past year.

I should note that not all of these songs were released in 2003, technically speaking. I'm a late bloomer. It usually takes me a month or two to catch on to the record of the moment. Also, there's also a ton of material I missed. Serious music critics are not tightwads like me. I do not have the new Strokes CD. I also do not have Damien Rice's famous record or the new release from My Morning Jacket and haven't heard a peep from Death Cab for Cutie. I just can't afford all of it. But if you want to send me a copy of a record that rocked your world in 2003, please do. I'll be glad to listen to it. Maybe it will make it onto my list for 2004!


One gloomy morning last January, a favorite web station played Kathleen Edwards' lovely, heartbreaking song "Hockey Skates." The song stopped me in my tracks. I was at the office at the time, and immediately put down my work and went to the web so I could read and hear everything about Kathleen Edwards that I could get my hands on. It's good to say that I can personally blame a Canadian stranger for two hours of lost productivity that day. Her music is folk-rock, I guess, but something in her voice goes way beyond the usual stuff being pushed on mass radio. A couple of days after my first encounter with that song, I picked up Failer, Kathleen's first and only record to date, and really fell in love with it. Her voice is sort of husky and rough and sad and sweet all at once. Given that she's just 24 and is already writing amazing songs, you'll probably be hearing more about her in the future.


Do you know Jason Mraz' pop song "The Remedy"? I sure hope so. There is no pleasure quite like that of a perfect pop song, and this is an absolutely perfect pop song. One of the best I've ever heard, in fact.



One of the key ingredients I look for in a good contemporary song is "Gorgeous Chord Changes That Make Me Feel Like I'm Going to Die." The chord changes in Joseph Arthur's song "I Would Rather Hide" kill me. His entire Redemption's Son record was a favorite discovery of 2003.


Yep. Rufus Wainwright's Want One hit many of the most meaningful top 10 lists of the year. I'll be honest — I resisted old Rufus for a long time. All my friends went nuts for his first album, as well as Poses. I chose to ignore them altogether. Frankly, I wondered how they could respect any serious artist identified mostly by his terrifically whiny voice and a closet full of polka-dot blouses. Friends, I gave up that fight this fall, and I am richer for it. "I Don't Know What It Is" is a gorgeous, soaring, grand song, filled with hope and loss and struggle and redemption. 2003 was the years that my ears were opened to Rufus. Let me join the chorus: Want One is brilliant. And let me call a cease fire, Rufus. Let's stop fighting. Let's make up.


Where do you begin with Over the Rhine? The trick here is finding just one song off their startlingly lovely double album, Ohio. I'd probably pick "What I'll Remember Most" simply because it contains some of the most heartbreaking lyrics I've ever heard:

	You are eighty percent angel Ten percent demon The rest is hard to explain.

This may be a hokey thing to say, but Over the Rhine may be the best band you're not listening to right now.


My apologies for the awful image. The Innocence Mission can do no wrong. I've followed this band for through more than six albums and 10 years, without a single false step. This year they released a gorgeous record called Befriended. The song "When Mac Was Swimming" was a favorite. OK, OK. Mainly I'm just putting The Innocence Mission on this list because this little-known band creates some of the most intelligent, thought-provoking, beautiful music being made today, and if you like that kind of music, you need to know them. And here's a late-breaking newsflash: Christian Bordal, an independent music critic and NPR commentator, just chose this record as his #1 pick for the year. It's not just me talking.


I came across Andrew Bird's Weather Systems through Rob's Snobby Americana page several months ago. I definitely owe Rob a beer or two in light of all the happiness this eccentric and brilliant record has brought me. The title track made an indelible impression on me when I first heard it. It's the kind of song that works like a spell, drawing you in, lulling you into a sweet trance, and then softly destroying you. It's enchanting from start to finish, and probably goes down as my absolute favorite song of the year.

(Speaking of Rob, I think I just got a favor from the Karmic Boomerang. When I happened to look at Andrew Bird's website tonight, I saw that he is coming to Atlanta on Wednesday. As in this coming Wednesday. As in I am going to be there. Thank you, Rob. And thank you, Karmic Boomerang.)

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Seeing this list, I am struck by how much I enjoy music that is 1. beautiful and 2. sad. I suppose I find the world to be thoroughly sad and thoroughly beautiful at the same time, and the music I find most meaningful is the kind that seeks to capture that contradiction. It's a fine balance, both in life and in art, and I'm grateful for each of these songs, especially those that capture that tension so intelligently and honestly.