This song has made so many accidental appearances in my life that I don’t think I can ignore it any more.
The first time was in 2009, shortly after this record was released. It showed up mysteriously in my girlfriend’s iTunes. This was the old days of iTunes, when every song you had was either the result of a CD import or Napster, and long before U2 decided to stuff their new album into everyone’s library. So there really weren’t that many ways the “In Ear Park” could possibly have made its way into my girlfriend’s computer.
We both agreed it was a weird situation, but that the song itself was kind of nice. Then we forgot about it.
Years passed, and when I signed up for Spotify, a list of recommended songs popped up. Among them was album art I recognized, but couldn’t place: an innocuous image of trees. Not exactly an arresting visual, but somehow memorable, even mystical, since the trees seem to be illuminated by a powerful flashlight. It gave me the feeling of finding something in a crawl space, something long-forgotten until a flashlight happens to fall on it.
Despite that moment of recognition, I passed this song over again, probably overwhelmed by the sheer volume of songs that the streaming age had opened up for me.
Finally, a few weeks ago, I walked past a house whose occupants had clearly either moved or done a ruthless clean-out; the front lawn was strewn with typical “take it, it’s free” artifacts, including a couple of milk crates filled with records.
I had just bought a new record player, and “free” is a pretty good deal, so I had a browse. It wasn’t long before I was staring, once again, at those enigmatic trees.
It came home tucked under my arm. I listened, captivated both by the beauty of the title track, and the way that this album had seemingly been following me for almost a decade.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. The Lydian mode can add a layer of mystery to pretty much any song. I remember being mesmerized by “Friends” by Led Zeppelin as a kid, all because of that augmented fourth. The Department of Eagles are channeling Led Zeppelin a bit here, especially in the song’s opening minute.
2. The 3/4 time signature gives it a haunting sway. I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe that they would enjoy waltzing to this song. (It’s also not the first Lydian waltz to be featured on this list.)
3. The piano that comes in at 2.26 is out of tune in a charming, honky-tonk kind of way. Almost as if it was a piano that had been neglected for a while, gathering dust while its owner was busy fussing over the contents of his iTunes library.
Recommended listening activity:
Leaving some milk out for the stray cat that keeps showing up at your door.