Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Sunny-Day Music: Dead Heart Bloom Edition




I wish I'd written about Dead Heart Bloom sooner. At least a couple of years ago, they had their entire discography up for free download on their website. Very underrated - great mellow acoustic driving music.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Impossibility Makes Wavves Once Again

I never thought it'd happen, but I officially like Wavves:



"King of the Beach" is the first Wavves song I've liked, and maybe it's because I've been going to the beach every day I can lately, but I like the song A LOT. I haven't written about the Best Coast/Wavves/No Joy triple bill I went to back in February yet, but Wavves was the worst show I'd ever seen. In fact, I HATED their show. And I've always just generally hated the snotty little bastards. But damn it, "King of the Beach" is the shit.

So, what changed? Again, all of that beach-going, as well as a forecast for almost a solid week of solid sun. You bet your ass I'll be hitting the beach all day, every day, until the sun goes down for good, especially to make up for all of the rainy, cloudy and even sunny days I didn't spend at the beach. Yes, come Hell or high water, I will be there.

"King of the Beach" pretty much sums up how I've been feeling lately:

Let the sun burn my eyes
Let it burn my back
Let it sear through my thighs
I'll feel wide, wide open

Let the sun burn my eyes
Let it burn my back
At the beach
In my dreams
But you still

You're never gonna stop me x3
You're never gonna stop
King of the beach x2

Let the sun burn my eyes
Let it burn my back
Let it burn through my thighs
I'll feel wide, wide open

At the beach, I'm with Jeans
It’s wide, wide open
At the beach
In my dream
But you still

You're never gonna stop me x3
You're never gonna stop
King of the beach

Never gonna stop me
You're never gonna stop me x3
King of the beach x5

Sunny-Day Music: Akron/Family Edition



I feel like I should be floating on a small raft in the middle of an ocean, a few gulls gliding overhead, waters calm, skies blue and sun blinding.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Wavves - "Post-Acid"



I remember when I thought this was the stupidest, most crumb-bum song/video/band ever. I still think so, only now, I love the song, and I like the video for its immature stupidity. More on my recent Wavves revelation later. Hopefully.

Sunny-Day Music/Those Memories: AIR Edition

With colder mornings and cooler nights lately, summer seems to be winding down, though there's no shortage of sun or afternoon-to evening heat. Thus, I continue to share sunny-day music.

This edition of "Sunny-Day Music" features the song "Ce Matin Là" by French electronic pop duo AIR. I've been a fan of AIR since they released their debut album Moon Safari (which contains "Ce Matin Là") in 1998. Okay, so I only knew their singles "Sexy Boy" and "Kelly Watch the Stars" back then, but I have vivid memories of watching the videos for both songs on MuchMusic when I was ten-years-old and loving them every time they came on.



Fast forward to 2011, long after I'd read Jeffrey Eugenides' much-acclaimed debut novel The Virgin Suicides (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1993) and watched Sophia Coppola's 1999 film adaptation several times each. I can no longer listen to "Ce Matin Là" without imagining the scene in which the neighbourhood boys are reading the diary of deceased thirteen-year-old Cecilia Lisbon, the youngest of the five Lisbon sisters. Cecilia narrates the entry which is brought to life in a fantastical montage of her sisters (including Lux Lisbon, played by a seventeen-year-old Kirsten Dunst) dancing, playing and sitting in a field and amongst flowers, swinging on a swing and twirling sparklers with everything basked in a soothing sepia. Everything about the scene is perfect, from the delicate cross-fades to the selective slow-motion, down to the way the camera catches the light. All the while, "Ce Matin Là" playfully shimmers, creating an ethereal ambience.

Listening to "Ce Matin Là" always gives me the same feeling as watching this scene: utter peace - escape through daydreaming. There’s nothing like listening to "Ce Matin Là" while sitting on the balcony, laying on the beach or going for a walk and just letting the song take me away.

Here's the complete scene:

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Right Sound, Wrong Time?

I was reading Pitchfork's fifteen-year retrospective interview with Beck when "Cloudburst at Shingle Street" by 80s New Wave/synthpop artist Thomas Dolby came on at random in my iTunes. Such happenstance was appropriate, as when I first heard the vocals, I thought it was Beck.

When I realized I wasn't listening to Beck, I thought, "I could easily see Beck making music like this." Then, these Beck quotes I'd just read instantly sprang to mind:

... there's a reason the music I've made came out at the time it did. I qualify that with the fact that there were many records and musicians who were doing stuff that was really ahead of their time back then. There have been many times when I thought we stumbled upon something new, and then I'd hear something like Os Mutantes or Brigitte Fontaine and just think, "How did nobody hear this?”

His thoughts on a different matter much further back in the interview may explain his comments:

When I was a kid and putting out my first records, there was a lot made out of the fact that the 50s/60s generation was so dominant. Then, about 10 years ago, this "American Idol" thing became so dominant. I was reading something in The New York Times where they were looking at the demography of the last 60 years. It struck me that, after the 50s/60s generation, [the birthrate] was about two thirds less in the 70s, and then, in the late 80s and 90s, it goes back up. So if you're of that 70s generation, you're bookended by these two other monolithic generations-- maybe that's one of the reasons why that little time of weirdness in the late 80s into the early 90s was coming through the mainstream. The field was a little more open, in a way.

Interesting perspective. But are demographic trends enough to explain why someone like Beck, who made music similar enough to Thomas Dolby that I momentarily confused the two, could become the face of 90s alternative music while Dolby was relegated to one-hit wonder status, despite being an active musician today (you may know Dolby for his 1982 hit "She Blinded Me with Science")? And Thomas Dolby's The Golden Age of Wireless, his debut album on which "Cloudburst" appeared, came out in 1982 ... Was Dolby just a bit too early and didn't fully catch the "little time of weirdness in the late 80s into the early 90s"? But he still worked throughout that period... Furthermore, I don't think Beck's demographic observation explains why bands like Animal Collective or indie in general (which is often preeetty weird, to say the least) were able to explode, if their successes were concurrent with the "American Idol" era. Regardless, the similarities I heard between Beck and "Cloudburst" in particular got me wondering how much of success really is just circumstance.

On an unrelated note (but one that still regards Thomas Dolby), "Cloudburst at Shingle Street" is another case of me paying attention to a kick-ass song in my own library essentially for the first time only because my iTunes was on shuffle or I'd typed a certain word or phrase into the search bar, and the song I’d meant to listen to finished and moved on to the next item in the list. I was on a kick of wanting to give one-hit wonders a chance a while ago, and one of those albums was The Golden Age of Wireless. I listened to the album maybe once and basically let it sit on the virtual shelf. Maybe now that I've been hooked by "Cloudburst at Shingle Street," it's time to give The Golden Age of Wireless a second spin.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Today in "WTF Album Covers"

Candy Walls single by electronic/synth-pop artist Trust.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

It's Been Way Too Long Since I've Listened To This Song



Hell, it's been too long since I've listened to this band. So manic and good, this song.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

New Best Coast: "How They Want Me To Be" (Demo)


http://soundcloud.com/bestcoastt/how-they-want-me-to-be

Even though it's only a demo, I can't freakin' waaaiiittt for Best Coast’s new album. Bethany says their new album is far from being done though. Drag.

For all of Bethany's posturing, “How They Want Me To Be” doesn't sound too different from a lot of Best Coast's songs. Maybe there's a lot less fluff lyrically (that is, it seems far more personal than their other songs), but really, that's about it. Not a complaint though: I'll take Best Coast any way they come.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

This Morning, I Feel Like Prince

I didn't know, until I YouTubed "Let's Go Crazy" for this post, that Incubus covers it. No wonder: it's from their new album If Not Now, When? (Epic Records, 2011), and they've pretty much been off of my radar since A Crow Left of the Murder (Epic Records, 2004). Their version is pretty disappointing - okay but far too similar to the original. Anyway, here are the two Prince songs I was originally going to post plus Incubus' version of "Let's Go Crazy":





Monday, August 15, 2011

Indie Pop Sucks



Well, that's how I feel most of the time. But not today. I just listened to "Good Day Today," the first single from David Lynch's upcoming debut LP Crazy Clown Time, and although the song is not as out there as I'd expected, it's goooood - love the gunshots, loud knocking in the background and warbled vocals.

Crazy Clown Time, worth getting for its title alone, drops November 8 on Sunday Best Recordings. Oh, and Yeah Yeah Yeahs frontwoman Karen O sings on the album's opening track "Pinky's Dream."

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Imelda-Mayzing!

August 13, 2011
Deer Lake Park
Burnaby, British Columbia


Today was a dream come true. Four days after I fell in love with Imelda May, I got the absolute pleasure of seeing her perform at the Burnaby Blues and Roots Festival in Deer Lake Park. It was an insanely fun show, but it wasn't without its kinks.

Immediately suspect was the stool set up at Imelda's mic before the band took the stage. "Surely, she's not going to sit for even a second," I thought. But then, when introducing the band, the festival host announced that there was an unfortunate "slip" about an hour ago. Surely enough, when the band came out, Imelda very carefully hobbled over to her place with her right foot heavily bandaged. May jokingly blamed her injury on us for having such beautiful scenery: she'd fallen while trying to climb a fence to get a view of the lake. Although she'd heard a crack, she proclaimed "but we got a gig to play!" and that she'd wait until after the show to go straight to the hospital. And just like that, the show went on.

Another bad omen came maybe less than a minute into the show. Almost as quickly as the band started to play, Al Gare broke a string on his stand-up bass. A stage-hand didn't return with the re-strung bass until about halfway through the set, but Al didn't use it much after that.

Injured foot and broken bass-string aside, the show was every bit as fun as I'd expected. Seemingly unfazed by her painkillers, Imelda was as expressive as ever, and she looked like a million bucks, aside from her bandaged foot and a few noticeable patches of dirt on her yellow-and-black-striped dress and large black waist belt. Speaking of her appearance, I was shocked that she looked exactly like she does in all of her photos, dolled up to the extent that I can't even remember if she sweated. Her band mates were far more casually dressed, however, and they noticeably felt the heat.

Even though Imelda May was not one-hundred percent, pretty much stood in one spot and could barely stand on both feet, she still put on an amazing show. I was partially correct about her not sitting for even a second: to her credit, she didn't sit once or even lean against her stool much. Furthermore, they played every song I wanted hear except at least one; you can hardly beat that, especially considering she has three albums' worth of material from which to choose. Honestly, the most I had to complain about regarding the show was that I spent most of it blocking out the sun with my hand.

It was an absolute joy to watch Imelda et al. perform, and it was a good thing I decided to drop those seventy dollars just to see them: the Burnaby Blues and Roots Festival was their final North American date before they took off to Europe for the rest of the year. I can only imagine how fun it would have been to have seen them at the Neptune Theatre in Seattle the night before with a crowd that was there specifically for Imelda May, no blinding sun, no six-plus-foot gap between the barricade and the stage and a one-hundred percent healthy Imelda (obviously minus the wear-and-tear of being on the road). But again, I really had nothing to complain about, and I can already scratch her name off of my musical bucket list. Four days after I first heard her: I don't think I'll ever break that record. But did I ever think I'd hear an Imelda May?

Friday, August 12, 2011

Fuck, I’m in Love Again Or Move Over, Best Coast. I Have A New Favourite Album of 2010.

Ah, it finally happened again! I discovered an AMAZING new artist thanks to Conan O'Brien. Not since Diane Birch had I been so instantaneously and completely enraptured by a new artist I saw on one of his shows. This time, the artist in question is Irish rockabilly/jazz chanteuse Imelda May.

Immediately after I watched Imelda May and her four-piece band light up Monday night's episode of Conan with "Mayhem," I got ahold of her third/latest album of the same name. One of my first thoughts when I listened to Mayhem (Universal, 2010) was how reminiscent it was of the First Lady of Rockabilly Wanda Jackson's Jack White-produced album The Party Ain't Over (Third Man Records, 2011). The same clarity, brass-driven bombast and scorching, dance-floor-igniting guitars were all there. But unlike Jackson's latest big-band line-up, Imelda May's back-up band is comparatively more streamlined, consisting of only one guitar, one bass, one trumpet and no back-up singers. Given both Jackson's and May's jumpy, swinging rock stylings, I wasn't entirely surprised, then, when I learned that Imelda May had shared the stage with Jackson before (in addition to other musical icons such as Elvis Costello, Elton John and Jeff Beck ... and Meat Loaf). To what capacity May has been involved with Jackson et al. though I am unsure.

Vocally, Imelda May's style resembles a restrained mix of Janelle Monae, Karen O (Yeah Yeah Yeahs), No Doubt-era Gwen Stefani and even a bit of PJ Harvey delivered with a seductive '50s swagger. Yet, unlike the aforementioned names (or unlike what they’ve ever displayed), Imelda May has also demonstrated, especially on her first two albums No Turning Back (Foot Tapping Records, 2002) and Love Tattoo (Universal, 2008) that she can hang with history's best jazzy lounge acts as well. Such vocal diversity is what I love about Imelda May: she doesn't always sound totally smooth (like when she belts out notes at the top of her lungs or cattily yelps like Karen O), but she can totally turn on the disarmingly coquettish charm whenever she wants.

I spent almost every waking moment I wasn't at work from the time I first saw her to the next afternoon trying to figure out a way to see her in Seattle today. But alas, I couldn't find any cheap, available hostels close to the venue. Oh well. I'm planning to drop $70~ to see her at Burnaby Blues and Roots Festival here on Saturday. I figured why not, since I'd have spent far more than $70 to see her in Seattle? I know the outdoor venue and type of crowd the bluesfest is bound to attract will be far inferior to the likely elegant indoor setting of Seattle's Neptune Theatre (where I won't have to worry about the weather) and that show's crowd, but I'd stand in the fiery brimstone bowels of Hell next to Satan himself to see her.

It's artists like Imelda May that make me wonder how people can dislike certain things; to me, she's pure music, and if you like music, I don't understand how you could not be as head-over-heels for her as I am. But that's people/taste for you: subjectivity, and variation makes the world go 'round, blah-blah.

For the sake of reducing visual cluttering, I'm going to hotlink my favourite Imelda May videos rather than post them directly, because there are a lot of them:

"Mayhem" on Conan

"Johnny Got A Boom Boom" on For One Night Only

"Psycho" on Later ... with Jools Holland

Her cover of Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" on Later ... with Jools Holland

Her cover of Johnny Burnette's "Train Kept A-Rollin'" on the Sunday Night Sessions

New Feist Song: "How Come You Never Go There"

Listen to "How Come You Never Go There," the first track from Feist's upcoming fourth album Metals (out October 4 in Canada on Arts & Crafts) here.

Well, I'm stoked. "How Come You Never Go There" teeters between sombre and lullingly warm, its gentle pulsation complemented by extremely careful drum-work. The restraint shown in the compressed drumming, sharp guitar solo and even the song's brevity is the sort that always leaves me wanting more; the song is over before I know it. I've always been a sucker for brass too, especially when, like in "How Come You Never Go There," it isn't an airy whisper in the wind but not overpowering either. Likewise, Feist's voice is mostly a perfect medium here - and every bit as good as it has ever been. Ahhh, everything about this song just makes me melt.

I'm so happy Feist is trying something new and actually pulling it off. I was always kind of scared she'd repeat herself, mainly because I didn't really know where she would (or could) go after The Reminder (Arts & Crafts, 2007). On a more personal level, I'm also just so happy that I'm actually excited for her new album - really excited. I kind of lost my fire for Feist a few years ago: I had (and still have) 1.75 GB of music by her, and for a while, I even thought I might have liked her more than the White Stripes, but I was hardly excited to see her in Halifax, and while that was a good show, it was still the most disappointing show I'd ever seen. Hell, I haven't even been bothered to watch her DVD Look at What the Light Did Now. Now, however, I'm quite crushed I don't have a ticket to her show here in November, even though tickets ranged between fifty and seventy dollars. I'm still going to search Craig's List for as long as I can.

Regardless of nostalgia, it feels so great to remember why I loved Feist. Maybe it's finally time I try to find a copy of Look at What the Light Did Now.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Sunny-Day Music: The Concretes Edition

No shortage of sun, no shortage of songs:







Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Les Savy Fav with Handsome Furs, Pt. 2 Or This Is Everything I Love About Live Music

July 22, 2011
The Rickshaw Theatre
Vancouver, British Columbia


Anyone who has talked to me about music likely knows that Japanther is one of my favourite bands of all time. Anyone who has talked to me about concerts probably knows that Japanther was the best concert I've ever seen besides the two times I saw the White Stripes. It should say something about Les Savy Fav's show two Friday nights ago then when I say: Japanther can kiss my ass!

Wow. I never thought I'd say that, especially about a band I actually like less than Japanther. But credit is given where credit is due: Les Savy Fav was hands down, unequivocally, no questions asked, indisputably the best, the craziest, the MOST FUN show I've ever seen (besides my candy-coloured heroes the White Stripes, of course, although I wouldn't call their shows "crazy").

The show began with the band tuning up for a minute or two onstage. Conspicuously absent, however, was lead-singer Tim Harrington. Then, all of a sudden, a couple of water bottles flew from backstage, followed shortly by a blonde wig. Oh, boy. This show was already getting weird and good.

When Tim finally did take the stage, he emerged wearing a sparkly reflective mask, sunglasses and a red-and-black cape. He also came out wielding a bunch of bananas. After having proclaimed how punk rock they were for having brought produce across the Canadian-American border, Tim proceeded to toss bananas into the crowd, personally feed some lucky concert-goers and have some equally lucky concert-goers feed him. Damn it. I was so close to the action.

Potassium!

Having gotten soaked with beer at Japanther, I knew it was only a matter of time before the same thing happened at Les Savy Fav; I just wondered how long it would take. Well, my answer came about three minutes into the show when Tim climbed on top of a large, rectangular, chest-height speaker in front of me and booted the beer cups and cans that were resting on top of it right in our faces and threw the rest into the crowd.

Soon afterwards, Tim lifted that same speaker with one arm pretty damned high, and with the help of several audience members in the front row, he hoisted it on top of another equal-sized speaker. When he returned to the stage after singing on top of the speaker, stage personnel struggled to gently set the speaker back down on the floor. Apparently, they weren't running on the same adrenaline as the rest of us there that night.

For Les Savy Fav, the stage was not a designated performance area: it was a launch-pad. Tim made literally every part of the Rickshaw Theatre his playground, and we were all invited to ride his merry-go-round for as long as we wanted. He sang in the audience, on top of the sound-technicians' booth and in the balcony. He even sang while swinging on a chain that was attached to the ceiling like a playground swing without a seat.

Swung from the gutters: lead-singer Tim Harrington swings from a chain attached to the ceiling.

As awesome as it was to watch Tim swing and sing - as awesome as it was to get as intimate and interactive with Tim as we wanted - the coolest part of the night came during the one-song encore. After a quick wardrobe change, Tim re-emerged for the encore wearing a rainbow feather suit and denim short-shorts. Most of the lights were off now, except for a few above the stage and a few far back in the balcony. During the song (which I admittedly did not recognize), Tim made his way into the middle of the floor. He beckoned everyone to move in for a group-hug during a slow part of the song, and on the first climactic confluence of bass, drums and guitars that picked the song back up, the entire audience, clustered in an embrace in the middle of the floor, EXPLODED in every direction like a million over-charged atoms, crashing into each other at light-speed; suddenly, there was so much space between everyone as we leapt feet into each other (before the encore, most of the moshing occurred at the front-and-centre area). It was also during the encore that Tim ascended into the balcony, took the large, single-bulbed light that was up there and swung it by its cord so that everyone in the Rickshaw Theatre was moshing in near darkness except for one swinging ceiling light.

As soon as I got home from the show, I went to take a shower, and I could already see and feel the welts forming on my knees, hips, shoulders, arms and back. Elbows and forearms ground into my back all night; I got crushed against the guardrail to the extent that I almost toppled over it a couple of times; I twisted my left ankle when I got shoved while my foot was wedged between some people's legs; and least pleasantly of all, I received a few knees to the groin, once when a guy seemingly reeled me in by the head. Thankfully, he threw the softest knee ever.

I hadn't been so uninhibited since Japanther and before that the White Stripes. I forgot how liberating it feels to lose myself in the middle of a mosh-pit, dancing and singing until I'm breathless and so tired, I'm limp but not crumpled or sprawled on the beer can-, beer cup-, beer-spattered floor only because bodies are crushing me against other bodies. There were a few moments at Les Savy Fav when I truly felt as if I was floating: at one point, I was caught off my feet while jumping and shuffled down a few people by moving bodies, like a piece of food that had been chewed up and was then being squeezed down an esophagus; I literally felt like I was gliding across the floor.

What also made Les Savy Fav great was that everyone knew the lyrics and danced their asses off, singing with each other and with Tim as loudly as we could. It was the second time I ever strained my voice at a show (the first was after the back-to-back White Stripes shows which basically rendered me voiceless for a couple of or few days). That was another thing I forgot: how great it felt to have been able to sing (shout) all the lyrics at the top of my lungs while jumping all over the place, running out of breath and not being able to finish the lines. I guess that's one reason why singers like Tim Harrington are so fond of sharing their mics with audience members, besides loving us so damned much: so they can catch their breaths. Lord knows you couldn't count the number of calories we in the audience burned that night, let alone Tim.

Unlike Fucked Up, who, like Les Savy Fav, are a lean, mean, hard-hitting, technically-sound beast of a band, Les Savy Fav weren't distorted at all. On the contrary: Les Savy Fav were so clear, I could hear every note and thus how technically sound every member was. Like Fucked Up though, Les Savy Fav was insaaanely interactive with their crowd. Hell, I said two days before Les Savy Fav that Fucked Up was the most interactive band I ever saw, but after Les Savy Fav, I have a new king. Although, out of the two coincidentally bald, hairy, bearded frontmen, Fucked Up's Damian Abraham seemed like the nicest guy on earth, whereas Tim Harrington was actually a bit intimidating. That was a bit surprising, as Damian screams a whole hell of a lot more than Tim does and is heavier-set and would thus seem like a more domineering presence.

I was concerned about my hearing after Fucked Up two nights before (my ears actually hurt a bit at Kurt Vile and Thurston Moore the night between Fucked Up and Les Savy Fav). Hell, I bought earplugs for the first time because I thought Les Savy Fav were going to finish me off. As soon as Les Savy Fav hit the stage though, I knew I wasn't going to be using my earplugs, and thank God I didn't: it wouldn’t have been half the show it was, if my ears were jammed with foam. Les Savy Fav were so good, I didn't even notice my auditory obliteration at their hands. But how could I have anyway when I was having one of the best times of my life?

Click here for more photos of Les Savy Fav live at the Rickshaw Theatre courtesy of the Snipe.


Addendum: I forgot to mention in my Handsome Furs review that I didn't find out that the venue for the show had changed from the Commodore Ballroom to the much smaller, much dodgier Rickshaw Theatre until I arrived at the former. I intentionally got to the Commodore later than I usually get to shows in order to cut down the wait-time, so I was a little frantic in trying to figure out the quickest route from the Commodore to the Rickshaw. As frustrating as that was, I completely forgot about it by the time Les Savy Fav were done because they were just so fucking good. The change of venue was completely for the best, anyway: the Rickshaw Theatre is always far more intimate than the Commodore Ballroom and probably laxer on security/safety regulations; I doubt there would have been much chain-swinging or light-spinning by the cord above the audience's heads at the Commodore. Indeed, the grungier venue was far more befitting of a hardcore show than the sleek, spacious Commodore Ballroom.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Best Coast = Best Summer Or Sunny-Day Music: Best Coast Edition

It finally feels like summer today - because it's sunny, and I don't have to work which means I can finally hit the beach. Or go for walk. Or do whatever I want outdoors and enjoy it, even if my headphones broke yesterday, and I'm too cheap to buy a new pair right away. And what better way to hit the beach or bum around the city all day than by listening to one of my favourite bands, lo-fi-turned-hi-fi, sun-baked California fuzz-poppers Best Coast? As the following songs and lyrics I've highlighted show, their music was tailor-made for summer:




We were lookin' for the sun
We knew it'd give us loads of fun
(Always, always)
(Always, always)

...

I was lookin' for a change
And then you saved me from this place
(Always, always)
(Always, always)

And there is so much magic
In the warm and summer night
(Always, always)
(Always, always)

We were lookin' for a sunny adventure
Sittin' in our chairs
Wind in our hair

We were lookin' for a sunny adventure
You know that I don't care
Wind in our hair





All year long
We wait for sun
At the beach
We come undone

...

Everybody chillin', we ain't worried 'bout shit
Everybody chillin', we ain't worried 'bout a thing

I understand life of the beggar
Lookin' at the ocean
Oh, shit this is way iller
Callin' my mama
Tell her not to worry
I'm a man in the wild
And the wild is the best
I digress
This might just be hit or miss
My intentions all summer
Have simply just been this:
Mantain and keep my brain sane
Very little ragin'

...

Mmm, ain't worried 'bout a thang
Mmm, give a damn, we ain't worried 'bout a thang
Ain't worried' bout a thang
Ain't worried 'bout a thang
Everybody good, we ain't worried 'bout a thang
Everybody good' we ain't worried 'bout shit





Don't plan at all
'Cause making it up is so natural



Lyrically, "Buy Nothing Day" isn't particularly summery, but I like its sentiment of freedom and going with the flow. It's what summer should be all about.