Unusual Holiday Music Part 2: Dreaming on an Open Road
- Matthew Loberg
- Feb 20, 2019
- 14 min read
Dreaming on an Open Road
Sometimes ideas are insidious in their onset, like a cancer that slowly spreads but masks itself with vague, non-specific manifestations. They frustrate us with their lack of clarity. Other times we are fortunate enough to have ideas present acutely, without conscious contemplation or work.
It hit me the other night, about six weeks ago, what this playlist is all about. My sister Emily, a self proclaimed night owl, was giving me a ride at 3:30am to the Portland airport to fly back to Nashville. I had put the CD-RW that I burned her just days prior into the Prius’s CD port—I hope they never take these things out of cars, they’re part of my lifeblood at this point. As Static Orphans transitioned into Love Ain’t enough, we merged onto I-5 northbound, and I felt alive. Acutely alive.
As though I were Dreaming on an Open Road, both literally and metaphorically.
This is a playlist of mystique that’s meant to be listened to while driving at night. There is something awe-inspiring, even transcendent about driving at night and listening to music with the road empty. It’s cathartic in a way that feels infinite; it’s just you, the expansive world surrounded by darkness (I’ve always felt that listening to music in the dark heightens the experience), and music. I liken driving at night to mystical music akin to a euphoric dream state. Fittingly, my sister, Emily, is the most expansive dreamer I know.
This is the second post (and penultimate post for the 2018 holiday season, which I do realize is already over) detailing the holiday playlists that I made my mom and sisters. Within my family, I feel as though my musical tastes align most similar to Emily’s. Consequently, making a CD of songs that string together to have a greater meaning, as I attempted in unusual holiday music part 1, becomes much more difficult.
Still, while focusing mostly on cultivating a dream state and a smooth transition of sound between songs, I have attempted to pull out several lyrical themes that reflect on our divergent lives. Like any good sibling relationship, we have always been capable of infuriating each other, and that trend will likely continue indefinitely. Yet I am struck by the strength that my sister has continuously displayed. Being intermittently emotionally stoic, I’ve missed opportunities to express my appreciation for Emily—the importance of which has become increasingly apparent to me. Dreaming on an Open Road is my attempt to show my sister how impressed I am by her feats and let her know that I’ll always be here, on her side, regardless of what struggles come her way.
I’m particularly inspired by Emily’s ability to strive for a life that aligns with her passions and her beliefs in the face of a world that values an arbitrary definition of success (career, job, relationship, money, etc.) that does not necessarily reflect her happiness or values. While I have succumbed (in my own non-traditional way) to a traditional, well-regarded by society career path (which, for the record, I don’t think is a bad thing so long as it is born out of my own desire), my sister—well, both of them, really—has persisted in the face of extreme pressure to settle. Allow me to digress for a brief period and better explain what I mean. (Feel free to skip the next two sections and get directly into a more concrete explanation of the themes that I’m attempting to elicit in this CD.)
I’ve often felt as though our greater purpose in life is to find something that brings meaning to our existence when, at its core, our existence is inherently meaningless. This may seem to be a disheartening statement, but I think, when taken to its logical extreme, it is not difficult to extract values from such a statement that align with what many consider to be of worth.
I recently had a conversation with my mom about finding meaning in life. I asked, “did you ever feel the need to have some project that gave meaning to your daily existence?”
She responded, “you kids were my project. By raising you well, I felt as though I was contributing to the betterment of society.” (She also added that her quilting—one of her many talents—gives her purpose.)
My question was brought on by feelings of existential dread that often accompany the doldrums of daily existence. Recently, I’ve been overtaken by a deep-rooted cognitive dissonance that I’ve been utterly unable to explain. Without certainty, I hypothesize that this feeling has been born from the need to be ceaselessly striving.
Throughout our training to become physicians (or physician-scientists), we are always working toward what’s next. What happens when we no longer wish to strive? Or, even worse, when there is nothing left to strive for? Will we have tied our self worth so strongly to striving that we are incapable of coexisting peacefully in the world without striving for more?
At some level, our striving acts as a bandaid that hides away the inherent futility of our existence. It is, I believe, with reflection that we can rip the bandaid off and begin to extract meaning, create purpose in our lives. The life of a physician has the potential to be extremely meaningful and empowering, but if we focus on where we’re going, always working for more, rather than where we are, we will be burned out by our failure to find purpose in our daily lives.
My sister has ripped the bandaid off and faced her meaningless existence head on. And her reward has been adventure—Soon around The Big Island as a tour leader and previously across America (twice) and through Canada with her tent, Harley, and the touring bike that she built—and an endless commitment to her values. To suggest that I, as an MSTP student training toward a societally respectable career has more worth, value, or potential than Emily would be absurd. There are many ways to find purpose, and when it comes to potential, I know of not one person with more potential than Emily.
But the willingness to metacognitively recognize one’s disposition does not come without its dark side. Depression seems to be a trait that chronically runs within our family. The latter portion of Dreaming on an Open Road explores the dangers of being lost in a downward spiral of overly analytical thought. But this section is also laced with optimism. It’s me saying that it’s okay to get lost in your mind, okay to not know the way forward, have no time to crank the sun, but please, stay wild and stay true to yourself, for it will be worth the wait. If it feels as though nobody believes in you, know that I do, more than you could ever imagine. And know that, throughout everything, you’ll always have my love.
Retrospectively, The National’s Secret Meeting fits idealistically into this section of Dreaming on an Open Road.
Didn’t anybody, didn’t anybody tell you
Didn’t anybody ever tell you how to gracefully disappear in a room?
…
And so and now I’m sorry I missed you
I had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain
Alas, Secret Meeting appeared on a CD that I made Emily in celebration of our time at Sasquatch music festival in May 2018.
So, to summarize my potentially unintelligible, incandescent ramblings, there are four themes in this CD. The first, based on sound alone, stands by itself as songs that I think have a magical quality about them that bestows enhanced appreciation when listened to at night on the open road. The other themes, which are more lyrical in nature, are wrapped up within an intermingling trifecta of dreaming, mental health, and finding meaning in our existence. Though I’ll comment on specific aspects of some of the songs, I’ll largely allow the reader to decide which songs fit with where thematically.
The song explanations are below, but if you just can’t wait to hear them, you can listen to the whole playlist here.
1. Static Orphans—The Barr Brothers
Explanation:
Static orphans is the opening song on the Barr Brothers’ album Sleeping Operator. It’s a two minute instrumental intro that serves as a prelude to Love Ain’t Enough. While not phenomenal as a stand alone, the transition into Love Ain’t Enough is seamless, and Static Orphans marks the beginning of our journey into the night.
No Words—instruments aplenty
2. Love Ain’t Enough—The Barr Brothers
Explanation:
The Barr Brothers generally (and Love Ain’t Enough in particular) have a celestial quality to their music. The New LoFi calls Love Ain’t Enough a “beautiful ethereal melody,” but I find words to be insufficient descriptors. So go, turn off the lights, and put on Love Ain’t Enough—but start with Static Orphans first, please.
Disclaimer: there seems to be dispute over the lyrics. I make no claim that these are correct.
Once you strip the paint you find it everywhere ya go
You and I should know
Everything that we esteem forever or a day
Don’t drive my love away
No
Love is enough, love is enough, love is enough
Love is enough at the end of the tracks when the car wrecks
Heart attacks
Love is enough when you don’t look back
From the Barr Brothers:
“‘Love Ain’t Enough’ is the song that happens when you give up on giving up on love. Either one has some kind of epiphany, or it becomes too exhausting to fight it anymore.” —Via genius
"It was kind of a misnomer because [the song’s called] ‘Love Ain’t Enough’ and the chorus says ‘love is enough.’ It’s the idea of, ‘Forget that I ever said that love ain’t enough, because I changed my mind.’” —via ontheaside
3. N o t c h e s—Deadwood Floats
Explanation:
Some nights as darkness covers me
It leans in close and whispers strange things
Like, ‘don’t close your eyes kid there’s no need for sleep,’
And ‘we’re no better than the grievances we keep’
…
When morning came I wrestled with the light
My arms were weak and blood was in my eye
I slipped into sleep and I dreamed about night
Of the cycles and motions that make up a life
How every mistake leaves a notch in your spine
And you’ll see that I’m doin’ just fine
Some nights as darkness covers me
It leans in close and whispers strange things
4. Through a Glass—Henry Jamison
Explanation:
The inclusion of this song is ironic in that my sister (if you know her) would be the last person that you’d expect to be interested in a 6’5” ex-marine. The song has a whimsical sound to it, and the reference to Bar Harbor reminds me of when my sister biked from Oregon to Bar Harbor. We had a magical week hiking Acadia National Park and drinking Maine Brews at my favorite small town joint—The Side Street Cafe (see picture below).
She was my dearest friend
And she will go to heaven
…
Oh, my car will barely start
I gotta get it to Vermont
She spent her summers in Bar Harbor on her own
Working in a restaurant
…
She was talking to a 6’5” ex-marine
He was living out his truck
She said he was very fragile
I said I don’t give a fuck
Explanation:
Sending out signals from me
Sending out signals
Sending out signals to you
Sending out signals
My interpretation requires no explanation, but for Junius Meyvant’s explanation, click here.
6. You Would Have to Lose Your Mind—The Barr Brothers
Explanation:
Another celestial track from the Barr Brothers. You Would Have to Lose Your Mind was chosen as the song of the day by KEXP on November 6, 2017. “Of course, the sound of a harp tends to evoke images of heavenly realms whether or not that’s the intention.” —KEXP
The speed of love returning, to my depraved heart
Like a song, it carries the memory still
…
That dream you dream of falling, out of the blue child
Like a stone, think I’ve been dreaming with you
We were never forced to love
You would have to lose your mind
7. Stay Wild—Shook Twins
Explanation:
"This song is for anyone who is stuck living a life they don't necessarily want to be living. So much so that this current 'life' is taking them away from another life they once had or they dream of having. This song is meant to inspire people to find their inner wild in order to find a way to be more free and more themselves.” A quote regarding this song from the Shook Twins themselves, courtesy of baeblemusic.
I'm so impressed with my sister’s ability to follow her own path. I hope that she always stays wild…
Disclaimer: I couldn’t find these lyrics online—I had to transcribe them. I can’t guarantee their accuracy, but since (to my knowledge) there is no other record, I’ve transcribed them in full.
Waking up is voluntary
Remember when the day belonged to you
The nights were long and windy
And you could just blow around
You wanna stay wild
You wanna stay wild
You try to
You wanna stay wild
You wanna stay wild
You try
Yes you do
Yes you do
Everything is muted
The palette’s gone pastel
Cry not darlin’
Go, go, go kiss and tell
You wanna stay wild
You wanna stay wild
You try to
You wanna stay wild
You wanna stay wild
You try
Yes you do
Yes you do
Stay Wild
You Stay Wild
Stay Wild
You stay wild
Yes you do
Oh, you do, you do, you do, you do
Yes you do
Oh yeah
Stay wild
Yes you do
Stay wild
Stay wild
8. Alaska—Maggie Rogers
Explanation:
I first introduced Maggie Rogers in Bethany’s CD blog post. Since then, Maggie has released a new, upbeat album, Heard It In A Past Life. I will admit that Heard It In A Past life borders closer to pop—some might say it is pop, but Maggie’s vast influences (which originate from unadulterated banjo picking folk music) and intricate producing style makes it seem overly reductionist to call it “pop” with no further label attached—than my usual music taste, but I still think it’s phenomenal.
Alaska, while a part of Heard It In A Past Life, is not a new song. Still, it’s fitting that the song that brought Maggie fame stars on her first full length album. Fortunately, Maggie has talked through the underlying meaning of the song; it’s about Maggie’s contemplative thought process and growth while hiking in Alaska and trying to figure out what to do with her life (under the premise that music was not the way forward—something we now know to be false).
I think we’re all trying to figure out what we’re doing with the life that has been thrust upon us. When I was young, I looked up to people under the guise that they know all. As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that, at some level, we’re all imposters pretending that we know the way forward. Emily is more willing to acknowledge her feeling of being an imposter, but also more willing to seek the entities that give her purpose. These lyrics are almost perfect for Emily. If only Maggie sang, “biked off an old me…”
I was walking through icy streams
That took my breath away
Moving slowly through westward water
Over glacial plains
And I walked off you
And I walked off an old me
Oh me oh my I thought it was a dream
So it seemed
9. Nica Libres At Dusk—Ben Howard
Explanation:
“It was partially written in the south of France and partially written in a couple of places. But it is sort of an invitation to Dream. It is sort of a guitar ballad and a few floating ideas with no answer to them and not to write with a finality to anything. It is quite an open ended song.” -Ben Howard speaking on BBCR1 about Nica Libres At Dusk (per genius).
Somewhere she dreams
Somewhere she’s dreaming
The Caribbean
Nica Libres at dusk
While the faithful dispose of a generation
And all of the mountains rumble knowingly
I order a Colada
And sit, count my dollars
And watch eagles soar in circles
Perpetually
Forever, forever such a beautiful thing
Now I’m older
I don’t look over my shoulder
I know what is there in front of me
Ten Marlboro cigarettes
The rolled butts into the bottle tops
Today I will stare at the sea
Till my eye have had enough
Is that enough?
10. I’m On Fire—The Staves (Bruce Springsteen cover)
Explanation:
I don’t particularly like Springsteen’s lyrics when considering the song as a whole, nor do I like the connotation of “little girl.” However, I think it’s possible to cut out aspects of the song to focus on lyrics that construct a different story, a story that I share with my sister. For this alternate story, The Staves provide an emotional intimacy in their voices that Springsteen, while an iconic musician, frankly lacks.
Hey little girl is your daddy home?
Did he go away and leave you all alone?
…
Tell me now baby is he good to you?
…
Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby
Edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley
Through the middle of my skull
11. Another Friday Night—Ben Howard
Explanation:
One of the saddest songs that Ben has ever written.
They found him in the gutter at the business end of another Friday night
Someone who’d clearly been there before
I don’t feel I had to ask him why
I never understood why we need to know
The reasons for everyone else’s strifes
Sometimes you don’t need sympathy
To get the words right
Caught in anguish
He was
Sometimes that’s enough
And he was singing
Oh, looks like the end again
Her body bleachin’ out into the waves
It’s still the loudest thing
Oh, I wish I had all my friends
Somewhere drinking
The sunny afternoon
Into oblivion
But that’s not your fault
How could that be my fault?
12. Saturday Sun—Vance Joy
Explanation:
The realization that this is a CD meant to be listened to while driving at night occurred postoperatively. Unfortunately, this is the first song that I just don’t think fits within the Dreaming on an Open Road framework—Saturday Sun? Are you kidding me? Still, it’s a song that, musically, I think my sister can jive to—maybe it still fits the framework musically. It also reflects my desire to be there on the West Coast, not for a lover (as the song would suggest), but for my family.
Oh, Saturday Sun
I met someone
Out on the West Coast
I gotta get back, I can’t let go
Oh, Saturday Sun
I met someone
Don’t care what it costs
No ray of sunlight’s ever lost
13. No Time to Crank the Sun—El Vy
Explanation:
From the genius that is Matt Berninger, lead singer of The National:
No time
To crank the sun
…
I was driving
Taking chances
Walking way too far out on
Some broken branches
Sometimes where you’re going
Is hard to see
…
No time
To plant our feet
These things they always
Come from nowhere
14. Byegone—Volcano Choir
Explanation:
This has to be one of the ultimate nighttime driving songs. That said, to me, everything that Justin Vernon (the lead singer of Volcano Choir and the man behind Bon Iver) touches is unequivocally a nighttime driving song. The only reason Bon Iver does not appear here is because we saw Bon Iver at Sasquatch, and like The National’s Secret Meeting, Blood Bank appears on my Sasquatch playlist.
Day dead byegone
Laying near the lights
Of the knights of the northern lodges
…
Somewhere I heard you scream
For others’ hearts
…
Set sail!
…
Oh, you plenty competent
So why aren’t you confident
15. Lost in My Mind—The Head and the Heart
Explanation:
I recently told a good friend that they had aspects about them that were very “Lobergian.” It’s a term I’ve never used before, but if getting lost in your mind isn’t a chronic Lobergian trait—or, more specifically an Emily trait—I don’t know what is.
Put your dreams away for now
I won’t see you for some time
I am lost in my mind
Momma once told me
‘You’re already home when you feel loved,’
I am lost in my mind
I get lost in my mind
Oh my brother
Your wisdom is older than me
…
Lost in my mind
Lost in my mind
Oh I get lost in my mind
Lost, I get lost, I get lost in my mind
Lost in my mind
Yes I get lost in my mind
Lost, I get lost, I get lost
Oh I get lost
Oh I get
I also wanted to include The Head and the Heart’s song, “Library Magic.” Unfortunately, I’m still restricted by the physical limitations of the CD-RW, and with only 80 minutes, many songs get cut. If time machines existed, Library Magic would be in and Saturday Sun would be out.
16. Call If You Need Me—Vance Joy
Explanation:
I’ve included Call If You need Me at this junction, in the midst of a series of less than optimistic songs, as a reminder of the essential importance of family. We don’t keep in touch as well as we ought to, but I hope that my sister knows that I am always here if she needs me; she can call if she needs me.
Loved you in the darkness and I loved you in fluorescent light
…
Your mother always told us we should go out to dance
You can’t get struck by lighting if you’re not standing in the rain
Take it as the truth or you can take it with a grain of salt
If it don’t work out
…
I’m thinking ‘bout coming home, babe
17. Graveclothes—Birdtalker
Explanation:
Birdtalker reminds me of an animated, spunkier version of The Head and the Heart. Enjoy, and while you’re at it, shake your graveclothes off.
She’s been thinkin’ life ain’t givin’ her what she
Needs
What can make her happy is always out of her
Reach
Somebody gotta help me
But she could not see that everything she wanted
Was inside of her heart
…
We don’t need no mournful sound
Shake your graveclothes to the ground
…
Thoughts you’re thinkin’ make you feel like you’re
Dead
But you can grow a garden out the top of your
Head
Shake your graveclothes off, shake your
Graveclothes
Don’t get lost inside your head
18. Awake—Freedom Fry
Explanation:
“What do you name your half French, half American indie-pop band? Freedom Fry, of course.” - Freedom Fry via spotify
Awake is the second song that probably has no business being on a night driving album—with the sole exception of preventing exhaustion induced sleeping episodes 18 songs into a nighttime road trip.
We all started out now, didn’t know where to go
We’ll never know, we’ll never know
…
We’re gonna go forever, we’re awake
Here we go
Awake
19. Worth the Wait—Milo Greene
Explanation:
My sister and I saw Milo Greene together in August 2015 at Music Fest Northwest; Milo Greene will always be a band that I feel like we discovered together.
I could be on my way
If I could only get out of my way
No one said it’d be easy
Oh all they ever tell you is it’s gonna be hard
…
Oh, oh
It’s worth it, worth the wait
With love,
Matthew
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