I recently purchased the classic NES game Kid Icarus for my Nintendo Wii. I had the game when I was a kid and remembered loving it. I kinda liked it even more than Super Mario Bros, which I realize is blasphemy in some gaming circles. Anyway, I bought it, played it for about an hour, reached the second level and realized, "I have never made it this far in Kid Icarus before." Kid Icarus, for those who don't remember, is damn near impossible. As Pit, the unfortunately named hero of the game, makes his way up and out of the Underworld, the ground completely disappears, which means, one false step, and you're starting over. And the enemies may look relatively harmless, but they come flying at you in chaotic conga lines of doom that are impossible to escape totally unscathed. "Why the hell did I like this so much?" I thought to myself having once again plummeted to my death. And then it came to me: the music. I was enchanted with the score, written by the talented and prolific composer, Hirokazu Tanaka. I especially liked the music that accompanied the game's opening titles. It's triumphant. Epic even. It sets you up for a glorious gaming experience that you, if you are anything like me, will never, ever experience.
Other Hirokazu Tanaka classics: Donkey Kong, Duck Hunt, Metroid, Tetris, and something called Balloon Fight.
51. "Imaginary Person" (Ty Segall)
Ty Segall's Melted is the exact sonic kick in the face I needed this week. The music part of my brain had grown sluggish, and I had become content to pump the same old tunes into my earholes day after desperately boring day. And then, with very little knowledge of what I was getting into exactly, I purchased Melted and, well, it did something to me physically. The sludgy guitars, the fuzzy vocals, the whole "eff it, here's some damn rock songs" attitude--I bought it, man. Melted is a great album--despite its offputting cover art-- and "Imaginary Person" is currently my favorite track. It's kind of like a doctor at a mental institution gave one of his patients a beat up guitar and a shitty amp and said, "Just play through the pain, Ty. It couldn't hurt." Music therapy, if you will.
52. "The Hardest Button to Button" (The White Stripes)
I avoided the White Stripes for a long time for the same reason I avoided the TV show Scrubs: everybody loved them. Now, I know that's a crappy attitude to have, but it was my crappy attitude and I was happy. My friends would gush about what a genius Jack White was and how often they touched themselves to images of Meg, just like my other friends would endlessly quote Dr. Cox's stupid, late-game motivational speeches. I didn't want any of it near me. I wasn't going to join the herd and buy a White Stripes album, no matter how much Conan O'Brien loved 'em, and I certainly wasn't going to give Zach Braff and his goofy doctor pals a half hour of my precious time.
Then, apropos of nothing, I relented and listened to a little White Stripes. Oddly enough it was their song during the opening credits of Jonathan's favorite film, Napoleon Dynamite, that made me reconsider. Also, I think the aforementioned Jonathan put "Fell in Love With a Girl" on one of the many mix CDs he made for me during the early-aughts. I came to "The Hardest Button to Button" on my own. I mostly like it because of the lyrics, but the beat is undeniably awesome. This one is a foot stomper if I've ever heard one.
Incidentally, I finally gave Scrubs a chance and fucking hated it.
53. "This Year" (The Mountain Goats)
Every once in awhile, I will discover a song that I immediately fall in love with. I can't explain what it is about the particular song, it just kind of happens, a love at first sight, or, I guess, listen, that cannot be denied. It happened with "Something Better" by the Postal Service (thought I can sort of explain that one, as it did come along during a particular difficult time in my love life). It happened with "That's Entertainment" by The Jam. And it happened, oddly enough, with "Come to Daddy" by Aphex Twin. The love affair begins as an obsession: I listen to the song over and over and over (etc.) until I've convinced myself that I will never be able to stop listening to the song. Then we kind of fall into a casual routine: it cooks dinner some nights, I wash the dishes, that sorta deal. These songs knock me out in a big way when I first discover them and I never get sick of that feeling. It is, honestly, like falling in love with a girl or watching a movie adaptation of book I hold dear or cuddling with my wife at the end of a grueling work week. It happened last week with "This Year" by The Mountain Goats, a band I've been meaning to get into, but just haven't. Anyway, I love this song. How could anyone not love a song about two whiskey-swilling teenagers making out in an arcade all night? The video, as you will see when you watch it--and viewing is required, readers...there will be a test--is pretty amazing too. All right. Enough of my jibber jabber. Go ahead. Fall in love.
54. "Leader of the Pack" (The Shangri-Las)
When the Lawson's went on vacation, they listened to oldies on cassette. You could basically walk into any gas station in the country and pick up one or two "Best of..." mix tapes and, bang, instant award-winning vacation soundtrack. I have a lot of favorites from those compilations, many of which will probably appear on future installments of 100 Songs I Love, but tonight I thought I'd highlight "Leader of the Pack," sung by the Shangri-Las. I think I always thought it was kinda dumb--I mean, c'mon, she met her boyfriend, the supposed leader of a bad ass biker gang, at the candy store--but I don't mind dumb pop songs when they are as well-crafted as "Leader of the Pack." One thing though: this leader of the pack is kind of a pussy, isn't he? I mean, a chick breaks up with him and drives his motorcycle off a cliff or whatever? Dude, seriously? Also, I don't know if they actually say he plummeted off of a cliff, I just always thought that was the most probable cause of death.
