Songs for an endless summer #8

Hello dear reader, I’ve missed you. Work, Mexico, planning, Deadlock, and writing has kept me preoccupied lately. These added responsibilities are stacked on top of maintaining the last bits of my 20s (I turn 30 in October). So I’m getting back to the hustling and writing practice to keep my thoughts spinning on music to soundtrack the imaginary summer this series has been developing.

Currently, I’m reading David Randolph’s This is Music — found deep in my living room bookshelf after it was used by my roommate Warren as a counterweight — and I’m tapping into a pronounced way of music criticism. Turns out there is a language to describe the texture and color within sound that I never heard of. So with the sun literally beaming on me as I type this intro, I will share another addition our playlist: a dorm room classic, “Cut Your Bangs.”

Part of what Randolph is arguing against in his book is the romanticizing in music appreciation, in so far that Hollywood and “magazine feature writers” are steering how people generally think about music. As he claims, it is “the literary man’s prose, when he claims to speak for music, is seldom examined for its real pertinence or meaning.” He cites a passage about Beethoven’s Ninth and calls out how “there is nothing whatsoever in [Beethoven’s Ninth] by which a single proposition contained in this quotation can be proved.” His beef could be applied to our current state of music appreciation largely hinging on vibe readings rather than substance.

The goal of this songs for an endless summer series is to find an intellectual middle ground so this music, no matter how disparate sounding, can be contextualized for having a sonic/thematic point of connection. Regardless of lyrical content, most of my deduction come from describing how these songs sound. It’s an exercise in mapping out what happens in the journey from my ear to my brain. A useful preface as much of what I find delightful in “Cut Your Bangs” is how Sam Cook-Parrott’s soft almost-cracking voice harmonizes so well with the rest of the band.

Radiator Hospital may or may not be unique in their greater contributions to alternative pop punk, but they have certainly carved a remarkable hole in my brain with Torch Song and Something Wild. On first listen, the bright guitar riffs and ear worm melodies appear harmless as they don’t demand much attention. The track can be sonically deciphered by just swaying to whatever feels most attractive: there’s a few options to hang on to (drums, bass, lead.)

Tapping into Randolph index, it’s the “tone color” of these instruments that make them so identifiable. We all know what different guitars can sound like, and we have connotations depending on how they’re used. It’s Radiator Hospital’s lead, rhytm, and bass guitars that create a soundscape that feels like a your favorite oversized sweater with excessive pilling. Or think of it like a sour piece of gummy candy that electrifies your tongue but your face doesn’t wrinkle. I can continue to find metaphors but I’ll leave it at that — the chords are digestible and catchy.

When you introduce the lyrics, the late summer image begins to appear in my mind’s eye. The narrator seems to be in an unhealthy relationship. In that, they are massively infatuated with this person who lies about cutting their hair (amongst many other things). However, the narrator seems to be quite aware of this. “You say you’ll cut your bangs / I’m calling your bluff / When you lie to me it’s in the small stuff.” The last verse: “Now the flesh is melting off of your bones / The maggots around your heart make themselves at home / Where the river flowed I am left alone / I just stood there, bathed in the quiet.” Despite being deeply aware of the shallowness and manipulation at hand, the narrator remains loyal to this awful person.

Diagnosing this psychosis (h/t to Gabe) is beyond my ability. But I can remark that it is an astounding feat of literary dissonance to have such an uplifting sound being paired with an ugly relatable scenario. “Cut Your Bangs” can be placed somewhere in the category of late summer where summer flings have matured and the temperature has risen to the extent that all outside air is muggy. There is a stickiness in how the narrator says they are bathed in the quiet. I can understand the argument for this song being curated in an autumn song selection, but that would feel too obvious. Though I absolutely cannot stand being sweaty then inevitable being sticky, I am charmed by a work that conjures that sensation as though it was written specifically to my sensibilities.

I hope you listen you listen to “Cut Your Bangs” and find appreciation in the rest of Radiator Hospital. Though I haven’t heard of their later releases, I think their formative work still holds up.

Not using the evil streaming app, so here’s less evil platform; find the playlist here.

Cheers.