Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 17: The First Song You Remember Liking

Robin Williams – “Friend Like Me”

Does this count? In this day and age of home video, and especially for a twentysomething who was raised during the Disney Renaissance, it seems like the answer for most people would be “A Disney Song,” and that this entry should be asking for a “real” song, one by an actual band or artist that was recorded to sell records, merch, etc. Eff it. If you really want to know what the first “real” song I liked was, it was Garth Brooks’ “The River” from his 1991 album Ropin’ The Wind, which I discovered some time in 1996. But since I already wrote about Brooks, we’re gonna talk about Aladdin.

Like I said earlier, I’m a boy who was raised in the early 90’s, and that generally means my favorite Disney movie would have either been Aladdin or The Lion King. Aladdin it was, though, and I loved this sucker; in addition to having the First Song I Remember Liking, I’m pretty sure this was the first movie I could quote extensively. I was all about comedies when I was a kid, and Aladdin is replete with funny crap, which helped elevate it to its current Favorite status (SPOILER ALERT: because it’s my favorite Disney flick, I’m doing it last for Our Feature Presentation, which means I’ll probably be able to view it on Blu-ray sometime in 2013 or ’14).

Aladdin also plays host to some quality music, including some of the last lyrical work by the late, great Howard Ashman. “Friend Like Me” was one of those works, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t one of his absolute best (which would make it some of the best work in the entire Disney canon). I have a penchant for clever lyrics (as opposed to “clever” lyrics), and Ashman was the tops when it came to songwriting wit, skilled at list-making, stream-of-consciousness, and stuff that just feels good. “Friend Like Me” falls into the last category, with some of my favorite Disney lines (“Life is your restaurant / and I’m your maître d’ / C’mon whisper what it is you want / you ain’t never had a friend like me!”).

On top of the lyrical excellence is a fabulously fun composition by the consistently awesome Alan Menkin, who gives “Friend Like Me” a glossy, big band sheen. Trumpets wail, floor toms pound, and the whole track just swings. It would be impossible to prove, but I don’t think it would be outrageous to suggest that my current love of Glenn Miller, Cab Calloway, and Benny Goodman started way back in 1992 with “Friend Like Me.”

“Friend Like Me” has great lyrics and catchy music, but it’s Robin Williams’ exuberant, playful delivery that really helps sell the song (and the whole movie, come to think of it). Williams is famous for his rapid fire characterizations and Mel Blanc-esque vocal molding, but never is it more impressive than when he quickly shifts from a French accent to an old man to a sing-song Southern jingle in the span of about four seconds, all without losing the main melodic thrust. The more I think about it, the more Ashman, Menkin, and Williams start to seem like the Triforce of Disney music.

More than “Prince Ali,” more than “A Whole New World,” more than “Arabian Knights,” I loved “Friend Like Me,” and its clever wordplay, raucous energy, and Robin Williams’ over-the-top performance make it one of my favorite Disney songs to date.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 16: An Oldie But a Goodie

Roger Miller – “King of the Road”



If we’re playing the technical version of this game (and I think we are), an “oldie” is considered to be a song released between ’55 and ’72 (I dunno, ask her). Fortunately, “King of the Road” lands smack dab in the middle of 1965, and is one of my recent favorite songs.

I discovered Roger Miller through an unlikely source: he’s the voice of Alan-A-Dale in the 1973 Disney version of Robin Hood. I remember my mom making an off-hand comment that her dad used to listen to Roger Miller back in the day, and I was fascinated that Disney would hire a country legend to provide the voice of a Rooster in one of its lesser flicks. This lead to some research on my part, eventually culminating in the discovery of the playful “Dang Me,” but my far-and-away favorite Roger Miller song is “King of the Road.” Incidentally, I actually didn’t hear Miller’s version first; it was covered by Randy Travis on some album or other, and found play on our local country station de temps en temps.

“King of the Road” is, first and foremost, a fun song to sing. The melody is simple, and I appreciate the absence of the now-standard verse/chorus structure—it’s an old-sounding song, and by gum, I appreciate its vintage. The Miller version has pretty sparse instrumentation (light piano, a stand-up bass, and some slight jazz drums), making it easy to sing a cappella and sound reasonably natural. “King of the Road” has an enjoyable, carefree bounce to it, and I find it all-too-easy to absent-mindedly hum when I’m in a good mood.

My favorite part, I think, is the bridge. The second melody is catchy, but I’ve always loved the delivery of the line “every lock that ain’t locked when no one’s around;” I remember the line being an earworm even before I knew what the rest of the song was.

Since I have a slightly untrained singing voice, it’s rare for me to find a song I heartily enjoy that can be sung in its native pitch, but “King of the Road” has me covered. It’s “Hakuna Matata”-esque tale of transient living always puts a smile on my face, and it’s one of the oldest songs to make it onto one of my Testermix compilations.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 15: A Story Song

Lupe Fiasco – “Kick Push”

Now here’s something new: a hip hop song that tells a story. The best story songs usually come from country music (see last post for details), and rap is not necessarily the best avenue for meaningful lyrics. Ah, but Lupe Fiasco is no ordinary rapper, and his first major single, “Kick Push,” still remains a favorite of mine.

The song follows a misfit young man finding a way to belong through his skateboard. He begins completely unskilled in the ways of the kickflip (“The first time he stood on it he slipped...and busted his lip; for a week he had to talk with a lisp”), but he sticks with it, and learns to love the sensation of freedom he gets while skating. Later, he grows up a bit, and meets a group of other skaters, including his ladyfriend, all “looking for a place to be.” Banding together, they’re able to find freedom, and a way to escape what troubles them.

I first heard “Kick Push” during opening weeks of my freshman college year; the album it comes from , Lupe Fiasco’s Food and Liquor, was one of the first CDs I purchased after coming to college. One of my friends skated at the time, so I formed a little attachment to this song, as well as the rest of the album. I have very specific memories of sitting on a dryer and doing laundry, studying for my Speech class, and listening to “Kick Push,” and it’s still fairly evocative of early September 2006.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 14: A Cheating Song

Garth Brooks – “The Thunder Rolls”

Country music sure has some epic cheating songs, doesn’t it? Perhaps it’s because country music excels at storytelling, but some of the best tunes about infidelity are delivered through steel guitars and fiddles. Of these, my most favorite (and most epic) cheating song is easily “The Thunder Rolls” by 90’s country superstar Garth Brooks.

The song tells of a woman waiting in a thunder storm for her husband to get home, hoping that the weather is the only reason he’s so late. Her hopes are, of course, misplaced. “A strange new perfume” tips her off, and her worries give way to fiery rage. This brings about the hidden third verse of the song, which I happen to have through Brooks’ Double Live album:

She runs back down the hallway and through the bedroom door
She reaches for the pistol kept in the dresser drawer
Tells the lady in the mirror 'he won't do this again'
'Cause tonight will be the last time, she'll wonder where he's been

S@$# is going down.

What makes the song stand out to me is how powerful it feels. The song is in a sweet-ass D-minor key, and gives “The Thunder Rolls” an ominous, edgy feeling, like a thunderstorm might form itself in your car at any minute. The two opening verses settles the listener into a state of unease, and then the chorus drops in like a thunderclap, electric guitar and rock drums ablaze. The atmosphere is further enhanced by the small, distant sounds of thunder, adding to the song’s sense of foreboding.

“The Thunder Rolls” is one of Brooks’ best songs, and easily the most epic cheating song in my musical repertoire. If you decide to get it from iTunes (and you really ought to), go for the live version—it’s much more energetic, plus you get that third verse I mentioned earlier.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 13: A Love Makin' Song

To be clear, my Rumpy-Pumpy Song of Choice is still “Shakin’” by Eddie Money. The guitars are breathtakingly erotic, and the lyrics are suggestive without being overbearing. Having already done “Shakin’” on this Challenge, however, I’ll have to fall back on another song that helps express the idea of pelvic Pinochle.

Eddie Money – “Take Me Home Tonight”



Yes, Eddie goes two-for-two on the Beast With Two Backs’ iPod, and for largely the same reasons. Like “Shakin,’” “Take Me Home Tonight” has a palpable sensual urgency, with guitars that positively cry out for some lovin’, and Money’s breathy, earnest voice serenading the listener. “Take Me Home Tonight” even ups the tension ante with a mid-breakdown saxophone solo (remember when rock songs had those?).

Lyrically, “Take Me Home Tonight” is a bit heavy-handed; while “Shakin’” was merely evocative of hopping on the good foot and doing the bad thing, “Take Me Home Tonight” all but spells it out. “I can feel you breathing, I can feel you heart beat faster,” Money croons. They’re only playing Jenga, right?

What sells the song to me the most is the soaring chorus. Money positively shoots for the moon, and the melody and urgency together make for one powerful package. If I could have one song put on Rock Band, this would probably be it.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 12: A Love Song

Elton John – “Your Song”



Love songs generally have a harder time finding their way into my musical repertoire. It’s not because I think they’re “sissy stuff” or anything, but most love songs (especially what is traditionally thought of as a “love song”) are generally pretty slow for my tastes. I like my music to be nice and energetic, so I can wail on life as need be; with that sort of philosophical aspiration, it’s hard to find time to slow things down. Moreover, I find that many love songs have an overblown quality to them; it feels like they’re simply putting on a show, and something about them feels a bit dishonest.

I harbor none of these feelings towards “Your Song,” one of the most personal love songs I have ever heard. Part of what makes the song so intimate is its sparse instrumentation; there’s not much to the song apart from a piano, bass, and some slight strings in the background. Its this lack of grandeur that helps the song seem so genuine—there’s no theatrics or build up, just a man and his words.

Speaking of the words, one of my favorite aspects of the song are its lyrics, and the simple, almost stream-of-consciousness quality of them. It’s as if the man singing has no other better way to communicate how he feels than to be completely open about himself; his hopes, wishes, insecurities, uncertainties, everything. He doesn’t try for anything poetic, he simply lets his emotions come out as he feels them, giving the song a further layer of honesty.

As I said before, I’m not a real “love song” kinda guy, but if I were, you can bet “Your Song” would be my jam of choice.



PS – Please take everything I said about Elton John’s “Your Song” and disregard it when discussing the version done for Moulin Rouge! Baz Luhrmann’s rendition sounds gaudy, overproduced, and completely misses most of what makes this song great. A lot of people sure do seem to like it, though, and if you are in this camp as well, please don’t let me detract from your enjoyment of either this or “The Tango Roxanne.” Everyone’s a critic…

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 11: A Drinking Song

Taio Cruz – "Dynamite"



This may surprise you, readers, but when I was younger, I made a point not to drink until I turned 21. It may have been a sense of obligation to follow the law, but I think it was mostly paranoia that I would get caught. Regardless, I went out of my way to avoid drinking, even in places where it was legal to drink at my current age.

After I turned 21, I enjoyed me some drank every now and again, but frequent rum-buying isn’t necessarily easy on a college kid’s budget, and gittin’ my drink on was saved for special occasions.

When I graduated and finally snagged a job, I figured it was time to cut loose. I’m a bit of a social butterfly, so I usually hit downtown Bozeman about every other weekend, meeting friends at what passes for the club and getting down on the floor because, dammit, I just wanna dance. It slowly became rather expensive, and I eventually stopped going after it became difficult to find friends to go. Summer time is just around the corner, though, so I may yet have to go back because, let’s face it, I just wanna dance.

In my opinion, I picked quite a good year to become a bar crawler, because the summer of 2010 had some of the best club anthems I’ve ever heard, all right in a row. “Tik Tok,” “Telephone,” “Rude Boy,” “DJ Got Us Falling In Love,” and many others were the soundtrack to my night, which generally involved me heading to the downtown area, hitting all of the six or so bars within a block of each other, and taking my bike home. My favorite spot had regular live DJs and an actual dance floor, and the place seemed like a club with a little suspension of disbelief.

Of all of the party anthems of 2010, and there were many, my favorite was Taio Cruz’s “Dynamite.” Perhaps there were other songs I liked more at the time (they were probably also produced by Dr. Luke), but “Dynamite” perfectly captures the celebratory feeling I was having at the time. It’s also one of the easier club songs to sing along with (“Aaaayyyyy-oh, baby leeetttt’s go!”), giving the song a group participation feel, similar to “YMCA,” but with less construction workers or police chiefs.

To this day, “Dynamite” firmly ties me to my summer of 44 North and lemonade, so much so that it legitimately feels weird to listen to outside of a club.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 10: A Relaxing Song

Delerium and Sarah McLachlan – Silence (DJ Tiesto In Search of Sunrise Remix)



For as long as I’ve been “seriously” listening to music, I’ve held a soft spot for electronica. At one point, I was committed to equally splitting my album purchases between rock, hip hop, and electronic albums, a notion that went out the window when I realized there weren’t that many techno groups that I liked. Regardless, I’ve still held a spark for club techno, making the recent trend of trance-influenced pop songs rather rewarding for me.

I first heard this track on a mix CD made by a classmate of mine during high school, and it’s stuck with me ever since. “Silence” represents everything I love about the “epic trance” genre: a low-key beginning that eventually builds into a titanic wall of sound, and a song that uses its rather extensive run time to create anticipation for the song’s climax. It takes patience to listen to, but not once have I ever felt this song to be anything less than completely rewarding.

Like most epic trance songs, “Silence” begins slowly, creating atmosphere and acting as a sort of sonic foyer. Gradually, the elements start to introduce themselves, an ambient noise here, a new synth part here, each adding to a complete musical picture. Before long, the song drops its bass line and drums, effectively hypnotizing the listener.

Then come the vocals. If there’s one singer whose work I feel guilty for not appreciating, it’s Sarah McLachlan—I absolutely love this woman’s voice, even if I’m not too crazy about her music catalog. Her voice has such an ethereal, otherworldly vibe, and it complements “Silence’s” sparse production, growing stronger and stronger until it finally crashes over the listener like an enormous wave. By the time the chorus finally hits, the listener is practically frothing for melodic release, and the track is only too happy to oblige. In a sense, “Silence’s” structure is one of the most compelling arguments for foreplay I’ve ever heard.

I used to listen to this song all the time before I went to sleep, and occasionally still do. The song’s pulsating rhythms and otherworldly sound put me into a state of utter relaxation, letting me simply unwind from the world for a good ten minutes.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 9: A Song That Makes You Want to Dance

Lady GaGa featuring Colby O'Donis - Just Dance



Lady GaGa’s first single, and her most accessible, I love “Just Dance.” It’s one of the most-ubiquitously played songs of any social function I’ve been to since 2009, like Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration” or Jonathan Coulton’s “First of May” (scratch that last one). You’d think the track’s omnipresence would start to wear at me, but no; for every cheerful dance-off and sloppy, drunken sing-along involving this song, I feel like I appreciate it more and more.

Why do I like it so much? First of all, the song is catchy as hell. It wasn’t for nothing that RedOne, producer of “Just Dance” and most of GaGa’s other hits, became a (quasi-)household name with this song, with syrupy synth lines and an easy, pulsing beat that’s guaranteed to lodge itself in one’s frontal lobe and stay there. I also appreciate Colby O’Donis' performance on the track, adding a little bit of guy perspective and helping make “Just Dance” more inclusive—all the better to get more folks dancing. Thematically, the song is blissfully self-explanatory: just dance. Don’t worry about what else is going on, just have a good time right now. Not much to read into, but not much needs to be read. Get yourself some ducklips and get on the floor.

Despite the song’s wonderful production and great melodies, I love “Just Dance” the most for the festive atmosphere it creates, each and every time it’s played. I was at my friend Lauren and Eugene’s wedding last week and when this song played during the reception, there was an audible gasp of delight, and the dance floor filled up immediately. This song simply makes people feel good, and for that, it’s my Song That Makes You Want To Dance.



Small bit of trivia: “Just Dance” is the first, and so far only, song I’ve been able to 100% on Rock Band guitar, a feat I documented for posterity.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 8: A Song You Know All the Words To

Weird Al Yancovic - "White and Nerdy"

Oh come on.

How could I not know the words to this song? I was a Computer Science major in college. One of my favorite TV series is an anime. I author a blog on movies, music, and video games, and said blog is running a series on every Disney Animated Feature. You tell me whether or not I’m white and nerdy.

Like many, I first discovered “Weird Al” Yancovic’s platinum-selling single in mid- to late-2006, and was absolutely blown away by what I heard. “It’s like Chamillionaire,” I said, “but awesome!” Weird Al has done hip hop songs before, but nothing like “White and Nerdy,” which demonstrates not only clever, gut-busting lyrics, but also impeccable rapping technique from the Weird one.

Because I mostly hung out with theater kids, you can believe there were some lyric-spitting competitions whenever this song would come on someone’s iPod. I distinctly remember sitting on someone’s trampoline at a cast party, singing this song at breakneck pace to stupefied looks from the other trampoline residents.

Perhaps the most interesting (and most enjoyable) part of “White and Nerdy” is how it takes the cocky swagger of most rap songs and directs it to smaller, less-accepted achievements (“Fluent in Javascript as well as Klingon”). The contrast of a powerful-sounding dude bragging about how “pimp” his MySpace page is (ha!) makes for great comedy and great music, and the fact that it’s pretty damn catchy only sweetens the pot.

In short, “White and Nerdy” was a power anthem for those of us who couldn’t get off the Super Nintendo when we were kids, and Weird Al was well-rewarded for his efforts—the song went on to become his first Top Ten single, peaking at #9. It’s the perfect track to stunt one’s nerdiness, and I still sing the Weird Al lyrics whenever “Ridin’” comes on the radio.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 7: A Song That Reminds You of a Certain Event

My final semester of college was an absolute slog. I was taking 19 credits worth of classes (six, for those playing at home), helping my good friend Jordyn prepare to host an upcoming film festival, holding down a job, and devoting my time to other attention-taking sundries when I could (*cough* Diversion 2.0 *cough*). When everything finally came to a close during the first week of May, I went absolutely nuts.

Not “party” nuts. “Mentally teetering” nuts.

Ke$ha – Tik Tok

It was during the twilight moments of my college days that I discovered this song. I had heard it once or twice in the months leading up to May, and didn’t really get into it until after The Simpsons used it in lieu of its usual opening theme.

Maybe it was the need to get unhinged, or maybe it was Dr. Luke’s stellar production, but this song subversively started to take over my life, and the life of Jordyn as well. During the last week of school, we both began craving the song, relishing the so-dumb-it’s-actually-pretty-smart lyrics and humming along with the simple, infectious synth lines.

My crush on this song crossed over into full-tilt obsession two or three nights before we were supposed to move out of the dorms. Since it was the end of the year, the donation boxes and donation bins were full-to-burst of unwanted clothes, appliances, and a whole host of other things. They called out to us from their resting places, and who were to we refuse their answer?

Yes, dear readers, “Tik Tok” was my dumpster-diving soundtrack song. Considering the Ke$sha lifestyle, I’d say it’s pretty appropriate.

The whole night, we went from building to building, pouring over used DVDs, trying on ill-fitting clothes, and extricating furniture for Jordyn’s future apartment. All the while, the lyrics swam through our heads—it got so bad, a sort of repeated speech pattern began to take shape, resulting in a fair bit of repetition:

Andrew: “This song is in my head, head.”

Jordyn: “Munching on some bread, bread.”

Andrew: “Wish that we were dead, dead.”

And so on. It was an eventful time, and listening to “Tik Tok” never fails to bring back memories of finding Kazaam on VHS in one of the resident halls, or marveling at how many douchey-looking plaid shorts were in the donation boxes.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 6: A Song That Reminds You of Somewhere

One of my favorite parts of summer is the road trip. To me, nothing beats cramming 2-4 friends in the car and hitting the interstate, arguing over who chooses the music, buck-passing the responsibility of choosing where to eat, and bonding over stupid car games. It hardly even matters where we go, as long we go there together.

Of course, having a sweet ride always helps, and my friend Regi had the sweetest ride of all when we were sixteen: a 1988 Chevrolet Caprice. This car was an absolute beast, nearly as long as a school bus, and better-furnished than the apartment I currently live in. It got maybe 12 miles to the gallon, but who cared when we were travelling on, in essence, a motorized, over-large couch?

It was in this car that we took one of my favorite road trips ever: an afternoon journey to Missoula, followed by a four-day stay at my grandmother’s cabin on Lindbergh Lake. The sun was shining, the A/C was up, and we were locked at 74 all the way there, not giving a toss about who passed us or what hand gestures they were making while they did. Life was good.

On our way home, Regi was sleeping in the back seat, while my other friend Jeff and I sat up front. We listened to a few compilations that we had picked up from the Missoula Hot Topic, and sat in contented silence when they had finished. About ten miles outside of Butte, Regi woke up:

Regi: “Did you guys want to put some music in?”

Andrew: “Nah, we’re good, dude.”

Regi: “Let me rephrase that.”

[Regi hands Andrew a CD]

Coheed and Cambria – “In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3”



What the crap, you may ask, is this “Silent Earth: 3” bollocks? It’s the title track to an album I bought Regi while I was vacationing in Seattle early that same year, and the first non-intro song on the disc. It also happens to be the CD that Regi handed me. The sky was overcast, the road moved by steadily, and aided by the setting around me, it sucked me into one of my favorite records to date, and perhaps the only album from this nonsense “prog” genre that I will actually listen to.

Far from an energetic beginning, “Silent Earth” starts with a bit of a Trojan horse, opening with a slow, plodding acoustic guitar before the main energetic thrust of the song begins. Then as now, this opening compels me—it’s a wonderful combination of aggressive guitars with an air of placidity—or is that the placidity I was feeling when I first heard this song? It’s a long one, but the melodies are well-developed, and, like the rest of the album, I take great pleasure in getting lost in the torrent of sound, emotions, and who knows what else.

Lyrically, I could care less about the specifics of this song. Coheed and Cambria is a concept band (yes, band) whose lyrics are based on a graphic novel penned by the lead singer, which apparently tells some sort of great sci-fi epic. Whatever. I’ve always taken the “feel” of the music and integrated it into whatever experiences I'm having at the time, and this is probably the best way to enjoy Coheed and Cambria.

Even though, thematically, “In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3” doesn’t amount to a hill of beans with me, I still love this song, and the album it’s named for. It reminds me of my first taste of youthful freedom, of friends and highway lines, and the four-wheeled couch that brought us together.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 5: A Song that Reminds You of Someone

At the beginning of 2009, before Carroll’s spring semester started, I purchased Rock Band 2 for my Xbox 360. I thought it would be a fun way to relive my Guitar Hero glory days and bring together my roommates—it ended up sparking some of the most cherished memories of my college career. From January through May, my life was filled with rock ‘n’ roll, and it wasn’t uncommon to return from class to find my three roommates jamming out “Ballroom Blitz” by Sweet, and for me to drop my book bag and join right in.

We each had our different tastes in music, and they all complemented each other splendidly. Ryan brought his love of classic rock, I had my power pop and emo tunes (someone had to), and Greg listened to basically everything else. We delighted in discovering new music through each other, and reveled in revisiting songs from days gone by (one day we bought “Last Resort” by Papa Roach, specifically so we could cringe at what it was like to be in sixth grade).

System of a Down – B.Y.O.B.



We all had our signature songs; some great, some not so, but none stranger than Greg’s odd infatuation with System of a Down’s “B.Y.O.B.” I have no idea how deep Greg’s affection for System of a Down runs, but he was all about this song; for a guy whose main musical idols include Cake, They Might Be Giants, and Daft Punk, he sure loved his nu-metal.

I really don’t have much to say about this song, other than “It sure is System of a Down.” I was the drummer of the group, and “B.Y.O.B.” is one of the strangest songs I’ve played on Rock Band: the song is approximately 85% chilled-out dance party and 15% mega thrash, and the switch-up can be pretty jarring if you’re not expecting it. The melody is nice, but apart from the novelty of how weird the tempo shifts are, it’s nothing that I would play in my off-time.

Perhaps the most amusing aspect of this song was Greg himself. He was the lead singer of our group, with a deep baritone voice and a surprisingly knack for crooning. All of his singing ability went out the window, though, during the yelling portions of the song, and the sound of my bespectacled, slightly barrel-chested roommate going “LALALALALALALA LALALA!!!” or “BREAK-ING IN-TO FORT KNOX STEAL-ING OUT INTENTIOOONNNNS!!!” never failed to crack me up.

Nowadays, I always think of Greg whenever I hear “B.Y.O.B.” It doesn’t matter if I’m hearing it in a bar, on the radio, wherever; I’ll always get a mental picture of Greg Captain Morgan-ing the couch, mic in hand, emphatically wondering why “they” always send the poor.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 4: A Song That Makes You Sad

NOTE: This post contains MAJOR spoilers for the TV show Cowboy Bebop, specifically the episode “The Real Folk Blues (Part 2).” That said, it’s been on Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim since the programming block’s inception almost ten years ago, so you’ve had time to catch it in a rerun.



During my junior year of high school, I was deeply in love with a girl I met at summer camp (yes, I am that kind of guy, thankyouverymuch). She lived in Dillon at the time, which is a good three hours from Bozeman, but that was no big deal. Why, you ask? Speech and debate, of course! That’s right, I joined an extracurricular activity that would give me years of memories and life skills so that I could chase a girl. Jealous you’re not me yet?

As I was saying, I joined Speech and Debate so that we could see each other during meets. She generally made finals, and I generally didn’t, so I had many opportunities to show her some emotional support during competition (I also learned a great deal about Expository speaking). When state came around, I had a great idea: travel to Corvallis (no mean feat) and watch her perform in what must surely be her finest hour! What could possibly go wrong?!

Long story short: plans went awry, I was forced to return early, and our relationship was never the same again.

The Seatbelts and Mai Yamane – “Blue”



“Blue” is a song from the soundtrack to a TV series called Cowboy Bebop, and is the final moment of the series. During the last episode, the main character, Spike, confronts and his former-friend-turned-foe Vicious, killing him, but dying himself in the process. “Blue” is the song that plays over the ending credits, a haunting, bluesy track of alternating beauty and melancholy, and a perfect accompaniment to such a bittersweet ending.

I had purchased the Bebop soundtrack before going to Corvallis, listening to it much of the way there. I don’t remember actually returning to Bozeman, but I remember sitting in my room, listening to this song on repeat.

What makes “Blue” so powerful is how it isn’t overtly sad—it’s the song’s feeling of finality, of release. For me, it’s the sensation of a new perspective, and of looking back on the old one, better understanding everything, but not able to change anything. It’s the look your first love gives you as she walks towards her new husband at the altar, or a half-smile from your best friend as he leaves forever.

I know for a fact that most people won’t quite connect with this one as much, but this song just gets me right here.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 3: A Song That Makes you Happy

As I mentioned in my first post in this series, I prefer music to be sympathetic to my moods, rather than changing them. It is difficult, therefore, to find a song that will turn my mood around outright. It’s easy to find songs that take my happiness and “plus” it, but a song that will turn that frown upside down, as they say? Pretty uncommon. Here’s my best guess:

Eddie Money – Shakin’



I first discovered this song earlier in the year, during the tail-end of a fairly tiring and slightly crappy weekend. I was in Helena filming a deliberately-bad sitcom to submit for Carroll College’s film festival; I was hoping it would take Worst Picture, so I made sure it was awful as I could make it. Unfortunately, it was crappy in all of the wrong ways—rather than memorably bad, it was just bad enough to be entirely forgettable, and not entertaining the way that most of my favorite “bad” pictures are. It was the worst way the project could have turned out: it was mediocre. Not only that, I had spent 36 hours editing the damn thing, forgoing interactions with my friends and bringing myself dangerously close to my wit’s end.

In short, I was in a foul, tired mood. I was about a mile and a half from my apartment when I decided to turn on the radio; perhaps something would distract me from this cranky, miserable feeling. It was at this time the classic rock radio station, my old friend and ally, came to my rescue yet again, giving me one of my new favorite 80’s gems.

Like I said earlier, I’m not usually one who can have his mood altered, so what makes “Shakin’” so great? First off, it’s slow. When I’m sad, I start to shut down, and any of my favorite pop punk track would have been way too fast. Second, the melody is simple, and easy to follow; by the third chorus, I was singing it like I’d known it for years. Lastly, and most significantly, the guitar in “Shakin’” is perhaps one of the sexiest things I have heard in music. Something about the sheer size of those 80’s riffs touches me deep inside, and I hear them as my wants and dreams.

The long and short of it is that when I hear “Shakin’”, it almost acts as a release for me. It’s familiar, it’s comfortable, and, sonically, the song just speaks to me. It lets me unwind when I’m down, but I can rock to it when I’m up. Best of all is the lyrics: it’s a short story about Eddie wanting to get laid in his girl’s car. As a young man in his early twenties, I can sure as hell relate to that, and if I were to give it a shot today, I’d probably start with “Shakin’”.

Diversion 2.0 Thirty Day Song Challenge -- Day 2: Your Least-Favorite Song

Well, this one’s a bit easier than yesterday, though not by much. The song that immediately comes to mind is “Chelsea Smile” by Bring Me the Horizon, because it showed me exactly where my definition of “music” ends and the sound of grinding, shrieking metal-sharpening begins. This isn’t quite fair, though, because BMTH represents an entire subgenre of music just like it, and “Chelsea Smile” isn’t any worse than the hundreds of other bands that all want to sound like Cannibal Corpse. You may think me a wuss for not liking this grindcore bollocks. You’re right. Deal.

Which brings us to my least favorite song, and it’s only grudgingly that I acknowledge it’s even a song:

Hinder – Lips of an Angel

For a while, my least favorite group was Nickelback. I remember liking “How You Remind Me” when I was in 7^th grade, but it didn’t take long before my opinion of them went south like a flight of turbo-charged geese. I suppose their instrumentation abilities are fine, but Chad Kroeger must be one of the worst band frontmen since Fred Durst; his songwriting ability is absolutely horrid, and his Southern fried “‘Merica!”-sounding voice gets on my nerves—it’s the audio equivalent deliberately smashing your thumb with a hammer, then lighting the hammer on fire and doing it again. Imagine my surprise and disgust when I found a band that took the worst aspects of Nickelback and made them even bigger.

Yes, that would be Hinder. Pop pseudo-rock sound drained of all edge and other interesting elements? Check. Song catalog full of vaguely misogynistic tracks about how all women are bitches? Check. Douchey-sounding frontman whose very utterances make me want to find a very tall building and cast myself from its top floor? Ohhhhhhhh check.

I’m pretty sure there must be other, worse songs from Hinder (though I pray that I’m wrong), but this one gets to me the most. From the very first, breathily-sung stanza to the ending chord fades, this song spells sonic misery for one Andrew Testerman. Perhaps there are other songs that piss me off more than this turd of a number three charter, but more than any other piece of music I can think of, this track makes me want to take my radio and throw it on the ground.