Perfect Songs, Vol. 2

This is part 2 of an ongoing series about what I regard to be "Perfect Songs." A perfect song is not necessarily a great song or one of the best songs, though they often are. A perfect song is one that is the best version of what it could be and where I feel the artist accomplished exactly what they set out to do. I am not a musician and the entirety of my music training consists of music class in kindergarten through sixth grade and choir my sophomore year in high school (plus a church children’s choir, but I’d rather not discuss that). I'll be posting them in sets of five, in no particular order. The posts will  usually include a live version I like. I’ve made a playlist on Spotify you can find here if the widget at the bottom of the page isn’t working.

“The Story” - Brandi Carlile, The Story

This song, written by band member Phil Hanseroth and sung with desperate honesty by Carlile, is a thesis statement for the concept of a soul mate. It explores every human’s need to connect with another human, painting the picture of this journey with expansive imagery and metaphors of struggle and want and desperation. The way each verse builds on the emotion and tension of the one before it engages the heart and mind, hitting a crescendo with Carlile’s now-famous voice crack in the reprise of the first verse that rolls out of the bridge, a candidate for the greatest imperfection in the history of music.

This was the first Brandi Carlile song I heard and I was instantly drawn to its honest and melancholy display of affection. It also introduced me to Brandi Carlile (and the Hanseroth twins, who, as far as I understand, are co-equal partners in creating the band’s music) and her indie/alternative/folk music that’s really just country music most of the time. Carlile is one of my absolute favorite music artists and while this may not be my favorite song of hers, it certainly is the grandest.

Live version: Carlile performing with the Seattle Symphony in 2017 (I'm a sucker for these kind of performances.)

“Heroes” - David Bowie, Heroes

The pinnacle of pop. A song so perfectly crafted by Bowie and Brian Eno that it completely engrosses the listener for 6 minutes despite being relatively simple musically and lyrically, at least to my ears. The relentless drive of the music and the hope within Bowie’s voice bring a positivity that makes the grandiose claims so attainable; anyone can be a hero for just one day.

As such, the radio/single/video edit of this song that cuts the runtime almost in half is an egregious musical sin, despite how great the video is. Part of the meaning of the song lies within its length; if we only have one day to escape everything else, we need to take as long as we can to memorialize it. Also, the usage of this song in The Perks of Being a Wallflower is magnificent.

Live version: A peppier performance in Berlin in 2002 that shows he still had it 25 yeas after release of the original (and did until the day he died).

“One Big Holiday” - My Morning Jacket, It Still Moves

This is rock and roll. Or at least, it’s my kind of rock and roll. My Morning Jacket have done so many different things, but I think this sound and feel is still at their core, no matter how experimental they (or Yim Yames) get. The lyrics are good and fine, timeless in their simplicity and self-referential nature; this is a rock and roll song about rock and roll. I suppose in some existential way that means it’s perfect that the lyrics are ultimately unnecessary, which may also be the case for all great rock and roll songs. 

This band is close to my heart, in a strange way: they’re from Louisville, and I grew up in the southern Indiana suburbs nearby. I heard people talk about them and brief mentions on the radio, especially after the album released in 2003 and took the (indie?) music world by storm. My 13 year old self, who previously feasted on a steady diet of Contemporary Christian Music and a little classic rock, was slowly getting into the emo/punk/hardcore/Warped Tour, etc. scene and listened to one MMJ song and was like “eh.” I was dumb then. I am not now, nor is Conan O’Brien who seems legitimately blown away in the performance below.

Live version on Conan in 2003:

“He Stopped Loving Her Today” - George Jones,  I Am What I Am

Some songs are unmistakably, unquestionably a country song from the very first words. 

“He said ‘I’ll love you ‘til I die,’ she told him ’You’ll forget in time.’” 

This is a country song; it almost doesn’t even matter where it goes from there. The lyrics were masterfully written by Bobby Braddock and Curly Putnam, telling a simple, familiar story in a clever way that invites the saddest smirk one could imagine.

It’s heartbreakingly sad while also being hopeful and inspiring, an authentic story told by a classic storyteller, one who was not at the peak of his popularity but at the peak of his craft. I think Jones’ age (49) at the time of the song lends it a necessary credibility, though the disco collar of the shirt he wears on the album cover might detract in an equal manner.

Live: A 1993 performance in which we hear the loudest a crowd has ever cheered for a very sad song.

“Andare” - Ludovico Einaudi, Divenire

Before I heard this song, my entire conception of classical music was movie scores, Beethoven’s Ninth and whatever my friends were playing at their semesterly band and orchestra concerts. I’m fairly certain that I heard this as an iTunes (RIP?) Free Single of the Week, where I discovered a great deal of good and terrible music. Needless to say, hearing this changed my thoughts around what classical music was and could be; I listened mostly to a bizarre mix of emo punk and country at this point in my life, so I’m not sure that change means much at all.

This particular song tells a story that fits well within the fantastic album, a story serious and important without being too dour and including moments of uplift. Einaudi, as in many of his compositions, takes the listener on a journey into the beauty of contemplation and the beauty of music for its own sake. It was my introduction to a larger world of music that used familiar sounds in unfamiliar ways and didn’t need lyrics to tell a story.

Live: In Moscow, 2012.