I’ve been trying to write this post for weeks now. Dozens of drafts have been born, and have died, in my head, and this is seriously going to be my last go at it. I can’t pinpoint why it’s been so difficult getting the words out here, but I suspect it’s because I’m about to admit that I might not be entirely immune from Celine Dion’s charms. Sort of. In a manner of speaking. Or maybe in a parallel universe. Well, maybe Celine and Coldplay. Or. Er….
Here’s the thing:
A little while back, MRP gave me a copy of music writer Carl Wilson’s excellent contribution to Continuum’s 33 1/3 series, Let’s Talk About Love: A Journey to the End of Taste. The book chronicles Wilson’s attempts to understand the phenomenon that is, and continues to be, Celine Dion – how she got to be so huge, and how it’s possible for so many people to get swept up by her sentimental, schmaltzy shtick. Wilson delves deep into Dionosphere, swims around an entire chapter or two on aesthetic theory -- what is this thing we call taste, anyway? -- and emerges from the entire experience not much more a fan of Dion's music, but at least a more acutely aware critic of his own musical preferences and prejudices.
The book is a great read, and at under 200 pages, it's perfect to read on the subway (though people did look at me funny -- there's a picture of Celine on the front -- and one guy on the LIRR actually asked me, "Are you really reading a book on Celine Dion?!"). The day MRP gave it to me, we had decided to meet up at the local on a sunny Saturday evening. When we walked in, there was a Death Cab for Cutie song playing on the soundsystem, one I hadn't heard before -- which doesn't say a whole lot, since I don't listen to much DCFC anyway. We had a lovely evening of whiskey -- lots of the good stuff, as well as a peek into MRP's journal and a lengthy discussion of the Wire. Not much more you could ask for, really.
A few days later I was back at the local, and that Death Cab song came on again. This time I paid more attention. It was sort of ... good. Not that Death Cab is otherwise not good; what I've heard I rather quite enjoy. But this song grabbed me in a peculiarly heartfelt way. I couldn't put my finger on it, nor did I get around to asking the barkeep what song it was. But the song stayed stuck in my head, until a few days later, when I finally got around to asking MRP what the title of the song was. "Marching Bands of Manhattan," he wrote back. "It's so Gibbard."
I immediately got a copy off iTunes. And proceeded to listen to it 15 times in a row.
Death Cab for Cutie | Marching Bands of Manhattan
[more after the jump]
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