Tomorrow is the last day of August. And although, technically, there’s still three more weeks left of the season, the passing from August into September always feels like summer is coming to an end. This is why the timing is perfect for this song to pop up and for me to share this very post. “A summer thing” by Cayucas was a great summer song back in 2013 but it could also be perfect for every summer since.
“The summer’s starting to drift away but you don’t want to let go.
Now you’re watching the rainfall by yourself from your bedroom window.
And I’ll be checking the mailbox for the postcards you said you’d send,
Telling me that you might stop by in the winter for the weekend.”
Zach Yudlin was originally making music by himself in the early 2010s under the moniker Oregon Bike Trails. By 2012, though, he had enlisted his twin brother Ben to the project, changing its name to Cayucas, and then, they signed to Secret Canadian Records. They’ve release four albums in all, the latter two were self-released but the only one I am really all that familiar with is the debut, 2013’s “Bigfoot”. It’s 9 tracks and just a smidge over 30 minutes of sunshine and surf and nostalgia for California, where of course, the brothers call home.
The real gem of the album is track four. “A summer thing” sounds unabashedly like The Beach Boys. Harmonies and yellow light filtered through a kaleidoscope and a music box playing “Sloop John B” on repeat. A bopping bass line and zipper-like guitars and ticky tacky drums. Even the most jaded of music fans or Beach Boys purists couldn’t hate this song. It’s faithful in its blue-eyed wonder and wistfully drenched in memories. It’s a song you just want to restart before it comes to an end because maybe, just maybe, it might delay that cold weather just a little bit longer.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 2013 list, click here.
(Vinyl Love is a series of posts that quite simply lists, describes, and displays the pieces in my growing vinyl collection. You can bet that each record was given a spin during the drafting of each corresponding post.)
Artist: Beach House Album Title: Teen dream Year released: 2010 Year reissued: 2020 Details: Gatefold sleeve, clear vinyl, Love Record Stores 2020 release
The skinny: A few weeks after the COVID-19 pandemic shut everything down in March 2020, a campaign called ‘Love Record Stores’ was started in support of brick and mortar independent music vendors in England and a number of musical artists, big and small, threw their weight behind it. Many record stores, not just in England but worldwide, had to rethink how they did business and shifted from analog and tactile sales towards the online marketplace. It didn’t happen quickly enough to rescue the Record Store Day festivities in April but Love Record Stores managed something in June, which saw a bunch of artists offer a lot of great albums for special edition pressings in support of the cause. I found and purchased once such record, this clear vinyl reissue of Beach House’s third album, “Teen dream”, a couple of years after the original event. This no-brainer purchase came courtesy of one such indie record store in England that actually has a great online presence and from whom I order quite often. The album had been on my wish list for a while, being one of my favourites by the Baltimore-based dream pop duo. “Teen dream” took the well-practiced elements from their first two outings and amplified them into a collection of memorable numbers. Victoria Legrand’s vocals feels more pronounced, more melodic, and pushed to the fore, breathing new life and energy into their sound. It’s an album that, from the start, I was able to delve into deeply, soak my whole body into its warm flowing eddies and let it stream through my fingers.
Every time The National releases a new album, I needlessly worry that it can’t possibly be better than their last, that perhaps this time, they’ll finally release a disappointing album, and then, they come up with something that somehow, unbelievably, improves on the last. Such has been my experience with the five-piece, Cincinnati-based indie band, ever since I got into them shortly after the release of their 2007 album, “Boxer”. I’ve since gone back to explore their back catalogue and can attest that, at least for myself, this theory holds true for their pre-“Boxer” work as well.
For those not in the know, The National has made a name for themselves with their dark, brooding, atmospheric music. Early on, they were compared to well-established, influential artists like Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, and Joy Division, likely mostly due to the lush, baritone vocals of frontman Matt Berninger, but I think his intricate lyric work is another comparison point worth noting. I’ve heard it said that some people find their songs’ meanings too ambiguous but I’ve always liked the images that are invoked and the sometimes conversational tone Berninger takes, as if recounting a story to mates over pints. Yes, they create dark places in all corners of their music… and yet… there’s something oddly uplifting about it all.
If “Boxer” woke the world up to the beautiful music The National was making, “High violet” cemented them in our collective musical consciousness, breaking them into the mainstream but somehow keeping their indie “cred” intact. This album was well reviewed by both Pitchfork and Spin alike and sold very well with the music-buying public. For me, “High violet” is an almost perfect album. There are absolutely no weak songs in the batch. It is an album that is dense with instrumentation, each layer beautifully rendered and thickly applied so as not to be missed. The songs are all miniature symphonies with Berninger’s rich vocals serving as both the centrepiece and yet another cog in the complicated puzzle. I love to turn the volume up, close my eyes, and lose myself in this music, listening to the intense intricacies and discovering new nuances every time.
I consider myself truly blessed that I’ve gotten to see The National perform these and many other of their past and future songs a few times over the years. For those who haven’t had the pleasure, I definitely recommend you do so at your next opportunity. The experience is almost without description.
Anyhoo, here’s my three picks for you out of the eleven fantastic tracks on “High violet”.
“Bloodbuzz Ohio”: Track six starts cranked up with a crazy drum rhythm set against a thin layer of reverberating keys and keeps that same level throughout, and then, Matt Berninger peeks in with those aforementioned conversational vocals, allowing the rich textures in his voice to seep into every pore of the melody. “I still owe money to the money, to the money I owe. I never thought about love when I thought about home.” I don’t know what the heck he is referring to – if it’s personal or if it’s just words that match that melody – but damned if he doesn’t resonate. Especially when you are in the middle of a crowd shouting/screaming/singing along with those words and throwing them into the wall of sound that The National magically creates live.
“Conversation 16”: Speaking of conversational tone, this song’s lyrics sound like random snippets of dialogue picked up from different tables at a morning cafe and jumbled up into one disjointed narrative but one that paints a delicious Norman Rockwell-like image, wrought in the normal National hues. Back when this song appeared at number 22 on my list of favourite tunes for 2010, I wrote how the song reminded me of an exercise assigned to me back when I was a Creative Writing major back in university. Starting from “I think the kids are in trouble” and ending with “‘Cause I’m evil”, the ‘scratching, reverberating guitars and ominous drumming’ carries the conversation along on an almost sinister wavelength, making the banal seem gorgeous and exceptional.
“Runaway”: “We got another thing coming undone. And it’s taking us over. And it’s taking forever.” Track eight was my third favourite song of 2010 and back then, I described “Runaway” as a dirge. Bass drums thumping and laying down life as we know it. Acoustic finger picking, lilting through the dry ice fog and suddenly there’s a hint of horns, a taps for a new generation, sad but uplifting. The track reminds me of R.E.M.’s ability to imbue even the most quiet and delicate track with fiery passion and angst. It slowly builds but not in bombast or speed, no matter how much you think it could explode at any moment, it never does. It is simply beautiful.
Stay tuned for album #2. In the meantime, here are the previous albums in this list:
My (life in) music lists 