It’s a strange thing, to watch yourself behaving poorly, to know that you’re not acting like the person you want to be. It’s very frustrating, like watching a movie where the main character is just being stupid and you want to yell at them to stop being so stupid. But it’s your own life. And no matter how much you know that things aren’t quite right, you can’t quite seem to do anything about it.
The long and short of it is that people are crazy, and no matter how much we think we understand, there’s so much more that just doesn’t make sense.
One of the main reasons I love music so much is because it’s one of the best ways to get underneath the surface and explore what’s going on. For that reason, while I enjoy a good pop song as much as anyone, the music that really gets to me is the stuff about the madness and the beauty of the human soul.
And because of that, of all the bands still around these days, Modest Mouse might be my favorite. They floated around a bit in my consciousness back in the 90s (Polar Opposites was a brief hit in Seattle), but I didn’t really get into them until “Moon and Antarctica” came out. It was only then that I went back and collected the whole back catalog. And grew more and more amazed. Like many “original” fans, I was a little underwhelmed by “Good News…” at first, until I realized that there were plenty of people that were fans long before I ever heard of them, and it’s silly to change your opinion of a band because they’re a little more famous. And “Float On” is just about one of the catchiest songs ever.
But I want to talk about a few of their older songs here. Lately, when I’ve been feeling a little weird about myself, life, the universe, and everything these songs have been pretty ubiquitous.
Broke
This one was on the “Interstate 8” EP and then compiled onto “Building Nothing Out of Something.” That album might be my favorite of their’s, which is strange considering it’s just a collection of EPs and other random songs. But somehow (like all things Modest Mouse) the chaos and dissonance is what makes it work. Precisely because the songs sound very different in some ways, the collective whole feels that much more cohesive.
This song is one of their quietest, almost resembling a traditional love song in some ways. However, with Isaac Brock’s voice and the classic Modest Mouse guitar, it runs no risk of being mistaken for anything but them. It opens with 30 seconds of just the guitar, dour yet engaging. When Isaac’s voice enters, it is eery and achingly sad:
“Broken hearts want broken necks
I’ve done some things that I want to forget but I can’t
Broke my pace and ran out of time
Sometimes I’m so full of shit that it should be a crime”
This section of the song continues until the final minute, when the pace picks up and moves faster, faster, faster, until it’s one glorious mess. The drums are flailing about, the guitar is dancing, the lyrics trip over themselves trying to fit into the little bit of time and space provided for them until it all melds together into a series of riffs that hit you like gunfire. And then, WHAM, it’s over.
I can’t deal with rollercoasters, mostly because I’m terrified of heights, but this song sort of makes me understand the appeal. The slow climb, the little bit of panic in the back of your mind, and then the rush. After it’s over, you’re not really sure what it all meant, but you know that the mad rush of adrenaline is what life is all about.
Trailer Trash
My favorite Modest Mouse song, and the inspiration for the name of this blog. As much as I love it in general, it’s felt even more appropriate lately. It’s about a life that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, when you have to wonder if maybe the reason things haven’t turned out quite right is your own damn fault, not because of anything out there. I don’t find it to be a hopeless song. Lines like “Taking heartache with hard work / Goddamn I am such a jerk / I can’t do anything” suggest a deep-seated weariness, a fear that life will never be anything more than it is in this moment. And a bit of self-loathing, as I said at the beginning. He sees himself and is disgusted with his inability to change.
But it’s not all doom and gloom. I like to believe that it’s a warning more than a prophecy. The song contains one extended verse which bleeds into something of a chorus, and is then repeated. Over this, the pace slows and while Isaac initially sounds emotional, maybe even a little tortured, by the end, he is just speaking the lyrics over a drum beat, and the guitars have almost disappeared. You can almost feel the burden of life pressing down. Then, however, the prettiness and weariness of the first half explode into the chaos of the second half. The drums go crazy, and the guitar riff dances around.
There are no lyrics, just the commotion of the music. All weariness is forgotten, and if you’re not quite sure where things are going, you do know that it is exciting. I like to think that’s sort of how life works. Frustration, fear of stagnation, and discontentment can be shattered. It’s a back-and-forth thing, but there’s still some reason to hope that you can learn from your mistakes and be a better person. I’d like to believe that.
So Much Beauty in Dirt
One minute and twenty-four seconds long, and it’s exactly the right length. It’s about those moments, gone before you know it, but perfect in themselves. The refrain “so much beauty it could make you cry” is repeated a number of times, emphasizing that life is perfect in all its imperfections. The randomness, the pain, the mistakes, and the stupidity, all of these things are intermixed with the beauty, the wonder, the silliness, and the joy.
Frankly, I find this song to be far more optimistic, and encouraging, than much more explicitly hopeful songs. Perfect moments are perfect only because we all know they must end. Similarly, we all know that suffering is a part of life, but what makes it acceptable is the realization that it is transistory, ephemeral. When we let pain wash over us, it cannot last – the pure moments burst forth no matter the circumstances, if we let let them. It is only when we fixate on the pain that it haunts us.
These perfect moments can happen anywhere. I find them often in music, but it can be as simple as breathing a deep breah of clean, fresh air. It can be saying goodbye to a friend. It can be a tear shed for someone that you’ve hurt. It can even be a moment of pain or sadness. What makes these moments perfect is not that they are “good” but rather that they are beautiful. And beauty is a perilous thing, as Sam Gamgee would be happy to tell us:
“‘The Lady of Lórien! Galadriel!’ cried Sam. `You should see her indeed you should, sir. I am only a hobbit, and gardening’s my job at home, sir, if you understand me, and I’m not much good at poetry — not at making it: a bit of a comic rhyme, perhaps. now and again, you know, but not real poetry — so I can’t tell you what I mean. It ought to be sung. You’d have to get Strider, Aragorn that is, or old Mr. Bilbo, for that. But I wish I could make a song about her. Beautiful she is, sir! Lovely! Sometimes like a great tree in flower, sometimes like a white daffadowndilly, small and slender like. Hard as dímonds, soft as moonlight. Warm as sunlight, cold as frost in the stars. Proud and far-off as a snow-mountain, and as merry as any lass I ever saw with daisies in her hair in springtime. But that’s a lot o’ nonsense, and all wide of my mark.’
‘Then she must be lovely indeed,’ said Faramir. `Perilously fair.’
`I don’t know about perilous,’ said Sam. `It strikes me that folk takes their peril with them into Lórien, and finds it there because they’ve brought it. But perhaps you could call her perilous, because she’s so strong in herself. You, you could dash yourself to pieces on her, like a ship on a rock; or drownd yourself, like a hobbit in a river. But neither rock nor river would be to blame.'”
Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!