Geek On This

Listen, because this is true: Just about everyone is a geek about something. If you’re not, you probably should be, because it is one hell of a lot of fun to know 2000% more about a subject than rational human beings should know. I’m not advocating that you go get a hobby that devours whole your spare time, social life, and 401K, but I firmly believe that the liberating and wonderfully distracting power of geeking out is key to life happiness.

It is also terribly important that you embrace your geekiness, no matter how ridiculous it is. If you are a deeply-studied authority on all things related to, say, Formula One racing, then get hip-deep in the absurdity of that interest. I’m not suggesting that you lord it over the rest of us like some superior human being, but you had better not apologize for knowing that the BMW team is dropping the unusual nose fins on their chassis due to safety concerns. Be a geek. Love it.

Among other things, I am a music geek, but that geekiness requires some clarification. If you put music geeks on a scale of one to one hundred, I’d come in at a solid seventy, maybe seventy-five. I have a lot of music, and I like a lot of music, but there are some holes in my knowledge (mostly involving “old” bands like The Eagles, CCR, and the like) and some weird appreciations outside of the norm (the Irish band The Pogues).

The point here that I am finally now going to get to is this, oh fellow music geeks:

You know how you spend six hours bitterly arguing about which albums you would take with you to a deserted island if you could only take ten? Or how you might possibly fight to the death in hand-to-hand combat disputing whether Kind of Blue or Blue Train is the best jazz album ever (clearly Kind of Blue, or we’ll have to throw down)? Or how your list of the top three R.E.M. albums might or might not include Up depending on whether or not you were allowed to count albums after their drummer quit the band?

Yes, I think you do know. And so, I have a new subject about which you can now reach shouting levels. This subject is especially relevant in these, the days of the iPod, when the album as an art form is waning from prominence. I was shuffling the 5,000 or so songs on my iPod today, when the shuffler settled upon U2’s “Lemon” from Zooropa. This was a song that I originally listened to unshuffled on CD, so my brain was programmed to be prepared for the next song on the album, “Stay (Faraway, So Close).” This is quite the one-two punch, musically speaking. You go from the electronic, airy, almost driving rhythm of Bono’s falsetto philosophizing (“Man captures color, man likes to stare / He turns his money into light to look for her.”) to the absolutely heartbreaking, stripped-down beauty of “Stay,” (“Dressed up like a car crash, your wheels are turning, but you’re upside down.”) that ends with that perfectly simple cymbal hit. “Lemon” soars and dreams, “Stay” sits you down on the bar stool and pours you a whiskey. The rest of the album is hit-or-miss, but those two songs just punch you right in the gut. It’s this sort of thoughtful placement – not just two great songs, but two great songs that fit perfectly as a pair – that we’re losing more and more as the electronic age of music sweeps the artistic arrangement of albums under the digital rug. I’m not lamenting the change altogether, just making the point that shuffle isn’t always the way to go. So ask yourself this question:

What are some of the best back-to-back song combos on an album? This is one that takes a bit of studying, so I’ll give you time to compile your best five to ten song pairs and submit them in the comments section. I’m looking hard at my especially musically geeky friends to set the bar high here, and I think you know who you are. (Note: Soundtracks and Best Of albums are excluded, and if you disagree or don't understand why, please slap yourself in the face. See? This is the kind of conviction it takes to be a true geek.)

My top ten pairs, in no particular order, are as follows, and definitely reveal at what point in my life I was listening mainly to whole, unshuffled albums:

“Mysterious Ways” and “Tryin’ to Throw Your Arms Around the World” U2, Achtung Baby
“Mysterious Ways” belly-dances in greens and blues, worshiping the woman, while “Tryin’” finds her in a small moment and reassures her. Beautiful.

“Nightswimming” and “Find The River” R.E.M., Automatic for the People
One of the most amazing songs ever written – filled with memory, pure nostalgia – followed by a departure song – a leaving, a thank-you, an expansive looking forward.

“Pictures of You” and “Closedown” The Cure, Disintegration
A shout out to my teen angst days, one of the sadder songs that I’ve ever loved followed by, well, more sadness, but of driving nature.

“Bullet the Blue Sky” and “Running to Stand Still” U2, The Joshua Tree
No explanation needed, I think.

“Rhyme for the Summer Time” and “Cold Beverage” G. Love and Special Sauce, G. Love and Special Sauce
I’ve always thought this might be the ultimate summer album, and these two songs take you from a total chill on the deck to up and movin’ about on the beach, shakin’ it a little in the sun.

“Belong” and “Half a World Away” R.E.M., Out of Time
The perfect balance of soft beauty, loss, and comfort. “The storm it came up strong, shook the trees, and blew away our fears.”

“Kerosene Hat” and “Take Me Down to the Infirmary” Cracker, Kerosene Hat
Another perfect one-two of sadness and comfort.

“So What” and “Freddy Freeloader” Miles Davis, Kind of Blue
I told you it was the best jazz album ever. This is not a new idea.

“The World At Large” and “Float On” Modest Mouse, Good News for People Who Love Bad News
The first song starts the album perfectly: gradual, building momentum, adding in one part at a time, but never quite getting a full head of steam before rolling right into the driving energy and optimism of “Float On.”

“Lemon” and “Stay (Faraway, So Close)” U2, Zooropa.
“Just the bang and the clatter, as an angel hits the ground.”