Top 5 Albums Letdowns (by Joshua)

Have you ever been a superfan? Have you ever been hopelessly devoted to a band or a show or a book series, so much so that you debate its merits in every from you can? Have you ever been so obsessed that you read every bit of news about the thing-in-question (TIQ) the instant it comes out? Do you rush to defend every mistake the TIQ makes, rush to show off every triumph as proof of its greatness? It becomes all too personal – at some point your support of the TIQ becomes so ingrained into your personality that any slight someone makes of it you take as a direct insult. And you wait on baited breath  for the next instance of this TIQ to present itself to the world.

This is what it’s like to be hopelessly devoted to a band, as I have been many a time in my life with a few bands. And when, after sometimes years of waiting, the band releases its next album, I would rush to the store to buy the CD (I might not be all that young) and excitedly pop it into my Discman (really not helping that youth point) and play it over and over again.

But sometimes, I would go through all the waiting and consternation and impatience and finally get an album that was as if the band laid a turd in the jewel case (I’m a child of the 90’s, we get it). It felt like a betrayal, like the band personally came over to my house and spit in my face and punched my mom in the tits. This feeling is wildly irrational, obviously – the band is making music they want to make (presumably) and as much as I think it might be, their music is not for me. But that’s the core issue of being a superfan – you can’t rationalize that idea, that their art isn’t for you, it’s for them.

MaroonMaroon by Barenaked Ladies (previous album: Stunt)

I came into my fandom of Barenaked Ladies in the oddest of places: in a communal, barrack-style showers in a Jewish sleepaway camp in Western Maryland. (That may be one of the weirdest sentences I’ve ever written.) At this camp, Camp Airy, we all took showers at the same time, and it was 20 or 30 pre-pubescent kids in a long row of shower heads and a floor with a few drains, all while a 16 year old counselor sat in a lawn chair and watched to make sure of…something, I guess? That we didn’t fall? I don’t know. Anyway, I remember very vividly once a counselor was listening to Rock Spectacle – specifically, he was listening to “If I Had $1,000,000″ and all the hilarious hidden stuff after that track. I asked for only one thing that Hanukah – a copy of Rock Spectacle. I got Stunt, and I’ve been grateful for it ever since. It’s a wonderful album for a fresh-aged teenager: It’s delightfully sad, with a great sense of timing and wordplay. Maroon, however, seems like a pop afterthought. It seems like an album that was contractually obligated and therefore hamfisted by the record label producers. I hate the term “sell-out” because I don’t think that fame equates to a lack of artistic integrity, but it might apply in this album. It sounds like a shameless attempt to pander to a wider audience, and that’s just a shame.
showroom of compassionShowroom of Compassion by Cake (previous album: Pressure Chief)

I literally cannot get enough Cake – I constantly crave for more from this band. Perhaps this is because they have an album problem; namely, they cannot, in my opinion, put together a good album with a cohesive sound that’s engaging top to bottom. That being said, I think Pressure Chief came as close as possible to doing that as they are capable of. It’s tight, it’s poppy without being glib, and it’s heavy in moments only. Showroom of Compassion utterly fails at this. The album is wildly uneven, and is a tough sell from the jump: “Federal Funding” is a monotone, droning, mid-tempo’d disaster of a lead-off track. The album does have its moments, sure, like every Cake album, but they are few and far between. What’s worse is that from what I can glean, the band is moving closer and closer to breaking up, which means this is possibly their last album. That’s a pretty shitty way to leave out, Cake.

in through the out door

In Through The Out Door by Led Zeppelin (previous album: Physical Graffiti)

Ok, so this might be cheating a bit, as this album came out before my parents had even the chance of meeting, let alone getting pregnant with the gloriousness that is me. But my fandom of Led Zeppelin took a very linear route. As a teenager, I was all about the numbered Zeppelin albums, perhaps due to the fact that I thought that’s all the music they ever made. When someone finally smacked across the head and played me Houses of the Holy, I nearly shat my pants in reverence. This was the band at their pinnacle, taking everything they had learned from IV and applying it perfectly. Their next album, Physical Graffiti  was legendary. It had one of their most famous songs on it, “Kashmir,” as well as being the model for all rock double albums to come. Physical Graffiti  is Led Zeppelin’s White Album; it’s taking their pop roots to their logical artistic extremes. In Through the Out Door, however, is a soupy deuce. With songs as bad as “South Bound Saurez” and “Carouselambra” (perhaps the worst song they’ve ever written), it’s hard to justify the existence of this album. And fucking “Hot Dog?” When did Zeppelin become a goddamn honky tonk band?

Absolute Zero

Absolute Zero by Little Green Cars (debut album)

This might be a little tough to justify my (initial) disappointment for this album. I’ve talked about my love for their song “The John Wayne” in my end of the year post, but I feel I glossed over exactly what made this album so disappointing to me on first listen. I had been listening to “The John Wayne” practically on repeat for months at that point, and Spotify graciously let me know they now had their album. I got this notification, however, while I was drunk, so I decided to listen to it the next day at work, which proved ruinous. I didn’t get enough sleep and was totally hungover, and the lead track of the album, “Harper Lee,” begins softly, with an acoustic guitar and lilting harmonies. It was not what I wanted! I wanted the driving electric guitars of “The John Wayne,” along with the oppressive heat from the oven, to beat the hangover out of me. That is not what I got, at all, and while giving the album a few more songs, eventually turned it off for something more abrasive. Had I just taken the time and been in the right mood, I might’ve come to the conclusion I reached recently, that the album is (mostly) wonderful. But for months I pointed to this band as a great example of a single that overshadowed their album.

220px-DaveMatthewsBandEveryday

Everyday by Dave Matthews Band (previous album: Before These Crowded Streets)

This album inspired this post. I may not have been a superfan of any band like I once was of Dave Matthews Band. Shameful, I know, but being a white suburban 90’s child, it was almost unavoidable. I was utterly convinced of their infallible greatness, and that faith was grounded on the artistic achievement that was Before These Crowded Streets. Despite my current opinion of the band, I still think that album is a perfect “next move” album for the band; that is to say, it’s a solid move in an albeit similar but relatively new musical direction, and is a showcase of a band at its absolute peak of songwriting and lyricism. I waited for what seemed like an eternity (four years is a long time when it’s, by that point, 1/4 of your life) for more of this artistic perfection.

Then the news started coming out that they were having problems in the studio. The material they were recording was dark and not at all radio friendly. They then fired their long time producer, which is sort of like a football team firing their coach in the middle of the season: It’s a fucking emergency. But it looked up, at least to me – they hired Glen Ballard, the producer who co-wrote and produced one of the best albums of the 90’s, Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill. This was a good sign, I thought, the guy who did “You Oughta Know” should be able to handle a deep, dark album.

What came out, however, was a pop mess. Matthews mostly switched to electric guitar (despite that he still was a difficult asshole about it and played a baritone guitar), and the switch negated half of what the appeal was of his guitar playing. His odd runs and bizarre chord shapes sounded fresh and vibrant on acoustic, but on electric they sounded both muddled and generic. And the lyrics were hopeless banal, with none of the depth that was present in nearly every song of Before These Crowded Streets.

The worst part of this is that I really tried hard to like the album. I told myself it was actually ok, the electric guitar did work sort-of alright, the lyrics were never the strong part of the band anyway, the move of focus away from the rest of the band and soley onto Matthews wasn’t egotism but was actually supported by the rest of the band…That’s how I thought, as a superfan, that I somehow knew the specifics of the dynamics of the band interpersonal relationship. But even all that rationalization couldn’t help the knot in the pit of my stomach that told me my favorite band had just released a really bad album.

The worst part of all of this is that not long after Everyday was released, someone leaked the apparently entire album the band had recorded with their now ex-producer, Steve Lillywhite. And it was nothing like Everyday. It was the natural extension of Before These Crowded Streets, meaning it was dark and brilliant. It confirmed, finally, everything I wasn’t willing to let myself believe about Everyday: It was a musical mistake, and my musical gods were fallible. It shook my fandom to its core, and it never recovered. Everyday isn’t the only reason why I don’t listen to Dave Matthews Band anymore, but it’s perhaps the biggest.

Joshua’s So Hot Right Now, December 2012

album-renegades

I think this may be the first month (set of months?) where I haven’t repeated a song from the previous month’s So Hot Right Now. This is kind of a big deal for me – as I’ve said before, I can listen to songs many, many times before even getting close to getting sick of them. But with the amount of new music listening to Spotify radio stations have introduced me to, I’ve been getting that insatiable need for new music Claire speaks of. There are definitely artists and bands on here I know and like, but playing songs I’ve not heard before or listened to in a long time. I’d literally forgotten how awesome “Jackson” was. Completely flew out of my head, and yes, it’s proof of my ever-growing insanity.

It’s a shame Spotify doesn’t have the version of “Gold Watch and Chain” as performed by Meryl Streep and Garrison Keillor from the movie A Prairie Home Companion. It’s easily my favorite version of that song, though Emmylou Harris does a fantastic job with it. The verse that begins with “The white rose” is so pretty and heartbreaking, but very nearly ruined by the man’s voice. Why, Emmylou, why? Great people always want the ball when the game is on the line (two things: Yes, I did just paraphrase The Replacements, and I really wish Ray Rice would say that instead of standing behind Cam Cameron, but that’s another conversation) and she laterelled it, Ed Reed style, and it was fumbled.

There are three really amazing covers on this list, two with some serious funk to them (“Toxic,” as done by Mark Ronson [yes, the Britney Spears song] and “Seven Nation Army,” as done by Alice Russell) and a third with an edge to it that even Bob Dylan at Newport Folk Festival in 1965 might say, “Oh, that’s a bit much.” I’m referring to the penultimate song on this month’s list, “Maggie’s Farm,” as performed by Rage Against the Machine. I spent my morning at work today seriously rocking out to this cover. It’s off RATM’s cover album Renegades, which is pretty terrible. The track is perfect for RATM to cover – it’s already righteously angry so all they had to do was add some heavily distorted guitars and a banging riff and sit back.

Top 5 Happy Songs (by Joshua)

I work a lot. I’ve mentioned how I do the bulk of my music listening per day at work – in large part because I’m at work 7 days a week. I’m willing to be for most people that would be a total bummer. And while I’ll admit sometimes it can really suck (working every weekend means I often miss out on some of the coolest stuff), I love it. I love getting there and being alone for a few hours and cranking up the music so loud it shakes the walls. I’m a firm believer in the philosophy of loudness – if the music’s good, it’s gotta be turned up. And what better time to drop some rump-rattlin’ beats then when you’re happy? It gets you up, it makes you dance. When I need a good pick-me-up, these are the songs I invariably go to.

“St. Thomas” by Sonny Rollins

This song makes me miss playing jazz so much. When I played in a small combo, it was always the song we closed with – it’s super recognizable and has a great drum beat. This, of course, led us doing our favorite move: giving the drummer a solo and walking off stage for a smoke while he plays. And while the awesome drum beat lends itself to a great solo spot, it’s Rollins’ solo that shines here. His second solo after the drum break is one of my all-time favorite sax solos, and it’s no small coincidence that the melody is hands down my favorite jazz head.

“Feel Like Funkin’ It Up” by The Rebirth Brass Band

Recently, frequent guest poster Miriam Doyle gave me her copy of the soundtrack to the first season of the wonderful show Treme, and I think I’m eternally grateful. It quickly became the soundtrack I put on at work when I was ecstatic, and I think I forced a great deal of my friends to listen to it as well. The track above totally embodies the sound of New Orleans – and if I remember correctly, the placement of the song in the show is at a funeral. I want that for my funeral. No lounging around, no moping, no crying. Just get the coroner to coax my face into a smile, prop my body upright on a float, and parade down St. Paul St. with a giant band funkin’ it up.

“The Most Beautiful Girl [In The Room]” by Flight of the Conchords

I love Flight of the Conchords so much, I own the album this song appears on in vinyl format. It’s hilarious and remains hilarious even without the show’s visuals to back it up (a claim that cannot be made of a good deal of their second album, and, relatedly, Tenacious D’s “Sasquatch”). It makes me laugh every time I put it on, and I think every time my little brother comes home from college, we end up playing it together. So funny.

“Sheep Go To Heaven” by Cake

This list would be completely incomplete without an appearance by Cake. I always listen to them when I’m in a good mood (or a bad mood, or a blah mood…perhaps I listen to too much Cake. Is that possible?), and this song always gets my goat (ha hah!). It’s got a simply infectious beat and lyrics that make zero sense, making it as silly and fun as a song can be.

Sidenote: An ex-girlfriend of mine always pointed to this song as the reason she didn’t like Cake because “the lyrics are dumb.” Hell yeah they’re dumb! It’s not supposed to be a deep song, or even a good song! (It is a good song.) It’s just supposed to be fun, and, it conveniently fills us in on the afterlives of livestock, which sorely needed addressing.

“Constructive Summer” by The Hold Steady

I just got to see these guys in concert, and what a fucking show. They opened with this song and the club went insane. I’ve never seen so many people all yelling “Get hammered!” in unison before. And how can one not go nuts over this song! It’s fast, heavy on the guitar, and talks about getting wasted all summer. I know that’s all I want to do all summer – and if I had a water tower to climb on top of, you bet your ass I’d do it. It also contains one of my favorite rock lyrics: “Raise a toast to Saint Joe Strummer – I think he might have been our only decent teacher.” I know growing  up in a city is awesome, but this song kinda makes me want to have spent a high school summer in a small Midwestern town.

Top 5 Songs We Wish Would Get Covered (by Joshua)

We here at Charm City Jukebox are totally and completely obsessed with covers. It’s actually kind of unnatural how much we think about them. The subject on our mind as of late are hypothetical covers – songs we wish could be done by another band, and what it would sound like and how fucking awesome they would sound. Sometimes it’s of a need to correct the mistakes done on the original version (think the Joe Cocker version of “With a Little Help From My Friends), but mostly it’s because we think the new artists would do just an insane version of the song. And they would, believe you me.



“All the Girls Love Alice” by Elton John, as performed by Sly & the Family Stone

This song is already so funky, but man, how funk-tastic could it get with Sly Stone at the helm? Of course, we’re talking late 60’s/early 70’s Family Stone, not today’s living-in-a-van-down-by-the-river homeless Sly Stone. (That’s right. Sly Stone is broke and homeless, living in a van, down by the river.) This is the kind of funk we all wish we could aspire to, but never quite make it. It would be a deep, deep funk sound, slowed down a bit, but with a ridiculous bass line and a horn section, with all the breaks cut with the horns. As amazing as Sly & the Family Stone were, they were never the most amazing songwriters. Can you imagine the marriage of Elton John’s writing and Sly Stone’s funk? I can. We would listen to nothing else; they would be revered as Mozart or Miles Davis, but, you know, actually listened to by most people.

“You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morissette, as performed by Cake

We all know Cake has ridiculous talent and penchant for covers. They’ve covered it all, from Willie Nelson to Barry White to the most famous cover they’ve done, “I Will Survive.” They like to cover songs where someone is pissed off, and this fits the bill. It would have an insane backbeat, which is crazy, because the original backbeat is hotter than hell. But this would take it to the next level. The vocals would be, of course, even-toned. It would have that same build-up, though, and crescendo into a huge guitar/trumpet solo. It would be an instant fan favorite. Get on it, Cake.

“Chain of Fools”  by Aretha Franklin, as performed by Johnny Cash

This would have to be non-vintage Cash, but the subdued, near-death version recording America IV. It would have those same qualities of the amazing covers of “Personal Jesus” and “Hurt:” it would be slow and haunting, but it would also be different in one respect – this song would have a sense of humor. It wouldn’t be outright funny, but it would sung with slick, sly smile that only Cash could pull off. You can see him smiling to himself as he sings this into a studio mic, totally alone but filling the room with his voice.

“Fuck You” by Cee-Lo Green, as performed by The Band

Oh man, this would be so fun! There’d be the big horn section of “Ophelia” and it’d be just as fast, but with that stripped down backbeat, four-on-the-floor groove the late, great Levon Helm just loved. He would sing lead, too, but everyone would be involved for the big swelling four-part harmonies in the chorus. And somehow, even if they sang “Forget you” instead of “Fuck you,” it’d still be ok. It would be an instant American Classic, played everywhere.

“The Mariner’s Revenge Song” by The Decemberists, as performed by Meat Loaf

This is tough, but doable. I think Meat Loaf deserves a thrust back into the mainstream; hough, covering a song that sounds like a 19th century sea shanty admittedly may not be the way to achieve that. Still, I’d love to hear what he could do with this….I’m seeing big, big guitars (when is there ever not big guitars in a Meat Loaf classic jam?) and a bruising, pounding vocal performance. Think “Bat Out of Hell,” but about pirates instead of motorcycles. It would be huge and epic in proportion, even more so than the original. They’d be a full orchestra. It would be nearly 20 minutes in length. Colin Meloy would shit his pants.

Top 5 Album Closers

Claire: We’re closing out our month long amble down record collection lane with album closers. Joshua and I had a long discussion about this post after I admitted that post by post, it’s come to my attention that I skip out on the end of most albums. Even some of my favorite albums contain mysterious final tracks that I’ve never reached. Why? Boredom sometimes, but more often it feels like the rhythm and narrative of the album got lost in the last few tracks, and after the penultimate and pre-penultimate, I can’t sit through another assault on my mini musical experience. Leave your favorite album closers, and closer criteria, in the comments! Maybe this post and your suggestions can end my stint as an album closer novice.

“The Big Country,” by the Talking Heads on Talking Heads 77

The Big Country is the epitomy of a proper album send-off. After a musical smorgasbord, this track winds you down, but not too much, not too fast. Perfectly paced, and still in pace with the album as a whole, with a solid last track length. If I’ve learned anything from our month of album posts, it’s that you never really want to leave a Talking Heads album. Once it’s on, once it gets going, it’s hard to give it up, hard to let it end. The Big Country is so satisfying it’s downright quenching.  And when Talking Heads 77 is done, you’ll probably replay the album (I know, you can’t help it) but if for some reason you couldn’t listen through again—if there was a tornado or some kind of martian landing— you could walk away and be okay. Until you remember Stop Making Sense, and then wipe out your schedule and cozy up to David Byrne, cause you’re a goner.

 “Jackson,” by Lucinda Williams on Car Wheels on a Gravel Road

Around the time I turned 16, my family spent a week in St. Cloud Minnesota, the town where I was born. We stayed with my parents’ friend Julie’s house, where we shucked corn in the backyard, ate mole off of plates perched on our laps, and flailed our open, stinging palms through the air, swatting mosquitos. It’s strange to say three cities later,  but everyone seemed so much more alive in Minnasota. My dad was on the radio, bonfires sprung up and filled with my parents’ college friends, and my sister and I ran free. I tasted my first beer that week (and developed a lifelong hatred of Leinenkugels), got my ears pierced, and spent the morning of my 16th birthday walking right down the center of an endless, empty road. I picked up this album at a record store called The Electric Fetus and listened to it relentlessly.

There’s a great line in Tina Fey’s book, Bossypants, about listening to “I Will Always Love You” over and over again, and crying because she had never experienced that kind of love. During that week in St. Cloud, I felt ready to grow up and be tumultous, adventurous, and achingly heartbroken, as soon as I could, and “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road” was my window into a life I didn’t have yet, but could reach out and almost touch.

“Save Me,” by Aimee Mann on Bachelor No. 2 or the Last Remains of the Dodo

I was in the throes of a bad breakup, and bingeing on sad girl music (…like Fergie) and a newly reacquired cigarette habit, when I got introduced to Bachelor No. 2. I remember that summer as being rainy and constantly dark, though looking back it was so sunny that I came home daily with a pink, scabby sunburn. And I also remember this album being a pitch-perfect ode to heartbreak, so personalized Mann may as well have laced my name through the choruses. But it’s not, not really. It’s heartbreak and growing up and being so strange inside that new love, someday, feels unlikely. I think this is where I ended up five years after I had exhausted Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, when I really was heartbroken and a little more grown up, and it was a lot less delicious than I had imagined.

“One Man Guy,” by Loudon Wainwright on BBC Sessions

Loudon Wainwright III is the world’s saddest man. If there were a “Sad, old guy singing sad songs” version of the Hunger Games, he would win in a heartbeat. He would get a walloping score from the Gamemakers, based on a freestyle ode to his lost loves and distant children. He would pull out a guitar and beat Leonard Cohen death, then melt everyone into a depressive heap with his pretty, lowkey songs, rife with death and loss and major life mistakes. (Oh my glob I want to cast the Sad Old Guy Hunger Games. What are we thinking, guys? Neil Young, Richard Thompson, Nick Lowe, wild card from District Experimental, Brian Eno…) (I’m reading the Hunger Games and they’re actually haunting my dreams. And this post, apparently.)

“One Man Guy” is an apt ending to a live-ish album: Loudon in concert is a carnival of kooky facial expressions, quips, and goofy smiles, all working together to cleverly mask some of the wrenching sadness in his songs. This song is an exploration of his lodged-in-his-bones-loneliness, and a quick peek behind his live performance mask.

“Murder of One,” by the Counting Crows on August and Everything After

Murder of One is a great big “things are going to change” song. It’s also solid internal montage music: If you need to imagine that things will change, for the better, in a quick, several scene cuts kind of way (instead of in the usual slow, up and down, un-soundtracked way that life works) this is your song. A nice, almost upbeat ending to a brooding, emotional rollercoaster of an album.

Honorable Mentions

“Rock Me to Sleep,” by Jill Sobule on Pink Pearl: Pink Pearl is the worst kind of album: Heartbreakingly sad, and equally catchy. It’s a lovely hummable type of torture, full of failed heroes and cruel lovers and Mary Kay Latourneau. “Rock Me to Sleep” is a pitch-perfect send off—a song about unbearable loneliness masquerading as a lullabye.

“Stumbling Through the Dark,” by The Jayhawks on Rainy Day Music: Another con—the opening sounds lighthearted and playful, but listen to the lyrics for a second and it’s another lovely ramble on sadness and confusion.

“Montana,” by Frank Zappa on Over-Nite SensationWeird and fun, like this whole album. Makes me miss the “I might be moving to Montana soon/ To raise me up a crop of dental floss” pin I made in high school. It had a green field on it with tiny boxes of dental floss growing out of the ground.

Joshua’s List:

“Lawyers, Guns, and Money” by Warren Zevon, on Excitable Boy

The first line is so good: “I went home with a waitress…the way I always do.” It begins with a count-off. It’s loud, crass, and mean. It’s the perfect way to end Excitable Boy. Oh, and the music is pretty damn cool too. I love big guitars, both as a wall of sound and actual physically big guitars. And I can only assume this song has both.

“Sad Songs and Waltzes” by Cake, on Fashion Nugget

I may have mentioned this song before, but as Cake is one of my favorite bands they’re going to get a lot of mentions. And they actually don’t have very many good album closers, at least none I’d be willing to put on this list. Except for this song, of course. It’s a great cover of a Willie Nelson song, and it fits in perfectly with the whole jilted lover theme they have running through the album. Plus, it’s a nice slow way to end the album, which is my favorite way to end an album. And it’s a ¾ waltz! Who doesn’t like a waltz?

“Wagon Wheel” by Old Crow Medicine Show, on O.C.M.S

Let me preface this song with telling you that I am not a big fan of this band. The album this is on is not very good and the only other standout on the album is a song called “Big Time in the Jungle.” But this is quite possibly the best campfire sing-along song of all time. When I was at St. Mary’s College, it seemed like every single person knew the lyrics to this song and everyone who played guitar knew the key changes. So yeah, it wraps up a bad album, but it does it in one of the happiest ways ever.

“Sons & Daughters” by The Decemberists, on The Crane Wife

I’ve seen The Decemberists three times now, and twice they’ve ended their encores with this song. It’s big, it’s happy, and it’s a sing-along! (Ok, so sing-alongs are a running theme this week.) Every time I hear this song it puts a big smile on my face. It’s the perfect way to end The Crane Wife, which I feel is ostensibly a “winter” album, with the spring peeking out of its hidey hole and giving us hope after a long, dark winter.

“All Around the World or The Myth of Fingerprints” by Paul Simon, on Graceland

So yeah, I love this album. It’s on three of the four lists we have about albums. But goddamn, this is an amazingly fun song. It’s singy, it’s danceable, it’s balling. Also, props to the many mentions of watermelon. I totally want some after listening to this song.

Honorable Mentions:

“The Hazards of Love 4: The Drowned” by The Decemberists, on The Hazards of Love: Only bumped because of previous mentions and a Decemberists song already on the main list. Otherwise, one of my favorite album closers.

“Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang” by John Lee Hooker, on Live at Café Au-Go-Go: His signature song, and one of the best versions available.

“I Believe (When I Fall in Love It Will Be Forever)” by Stevie Wonder, on Talking Book: Gets a big positive for closing out the movie version of High Fidelity. But it’s also a crazy good song. Also, the outro is really, really, really funky.