The Most Petable Dogs In Music

Dogs. They’re everywhere, maybe even in your own home. You might know them as Man’s Best Friend, but I’d argue they’re even more than that–they’re art. 

I’ve always been a dog person. My family has had two dogs; Inca (rest in peace) and Miracle. They’re both Keeshonds and both very good girls. I’m just doing a ballpark estimation, but I’d guess that I’ve taken dozens of gigabytes worth of photos and videos of both of them over the last sixteen years. They’re cute, and I love them!

It only makes sense that musical artists have the same connections with their dogs, so it’s no surprise why many of them have immortalized their pets (or other people’s pets) on the covers of their albums. 

Go on, just think about it. You can probably name a few off the top of your gear right now without even trying. As far as album covers go, I’d like to make a bold and substanceless claim that no other creature within the album kingdom has been as well-represented as canines. Big guys, small guys, fluffy guys, feral guys, they’re all here in some form or another on various album covers from indie rock to experimental bullshit. 

In this article, I’d like to rank these famous pups by how much I’d like to pet them personally. I’d also like to give the clarifying asterisk that I think all of these dogs are good boys and girls. This ranking is no judgment on the dog’s looks or the artist’s music, purely how much I would personally like to curl up with the dog we see on the album art. 

Secondary asterisk: don’t you dare contact me and tell me that I “missed one.” This is all of them, every dog that’s ever existed on an album cover ever. There are no more… Just kidding, please add your favorite album cover dogs in the comments; I want to see them all.

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Machine Girl - Wlfgrl

Given the title of this album, the animal captured on Machine Girl’s breakthrough album may very well be a wolf. Regardless, it does not look friendly and is not an animal I would want anywhere near me. 0/10

21 Savage, Offset & Metro Boomin - Without Warning

Not a happy dog, and I wouldn’t be happy to be around him. 1/10

Blur – Parklife

Here they come, barreling towards you, driven by some unknowable primordial force and the taste for victory. I think greyhounds are pretty cool, but any time you see a muzzle on a dog, that signals at least some level of un-cuddliness. Also, minus points for being British. 2/10

Joyce Manor - Cody

I wonder what the dietary information is on a mannequin head. 2/10

Rick Springfield - Working Class Dog

A prisoner of capitalism. One album later, the same dog can be seen riding in the back of a limousine flanked by two girl dogs. He may claim, as the title reads, “success hasn’t spoiled me yet,” but the smile on his face has noticeably faded. Money won’t bring you happiness, Rick Springfield dog, I can promise you that. 2/10

Weezer - Raditude

Sometimes a boy’s just gotta fly. He probably just heard “(If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To” and got all hyped up. We’ve all been there, right? I would like to vacation in this home, but I don’t know if I could deal with the energy level of this particular dog. 3/10

Nouns - still bummed

Something about this dog has always unsettled me. Maybe it’s the underexposed flash film photography, the modest Christmas tree in the background, or the music itself, but I’ve never been a fan. Plus, huskies always remind me of this meme dog. 3/10

Rush – Signals

Not to go all “Cruella” on you guys, but I once heard that Dalmatians are bad with kids, and that turned me off of them forever. Not even a good Rush album. 4/10

Snoop Dogg - Bush

Look, I know there’s probably a more-famous Snoop Dogg cover you were expecting to see on this list, but Bush is a fun little funk record that’s worth checking out. This is also markedly less horny album cover than Doggystyle, and this is a WHOLESOME list, so I’m opting for Bush. The ideal listening (and dog petting) scenario is nearby a BBQ on a hot summer day with some beers in hand. 5/10

Mogwai - Travel is Dangerous

This is my baby Yoda. The live version of “We’re No Here” is crushingly heavy and one of my favorite songs of all time; please go listen. 5/10

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SUB-CATEGORY: CARTOON GUYS

We’re roughly halfway through our countdown, so let’s take a break from the real dogs to look at some fake dogs. I’m putting all these illustrated guys into their own category because they’re still dogs but deserve to be analyzed with slightly different criteria. 

In terms of the physical action of petting, would I be petting a 2D approximation of these dogs? Would I myself be 2D? Would it be a Roger Rabbit-style cartoon-into-real-world logic? As you can see, we must look at these boys slightly differently and rank them accordingly. Still scored based on cuteness and overall petability. 

Mannequin Pussy - Perfect

I can see why Mannequin Pussy chose this dog as the cover for their awesome EP from last year. It’s a rager of a punk release, and this snarling German Shepard embodies the music well. This all said, cartoon or not, I’d like to keep this dog far away from me. 1/10

Iron & Wine - The Shepherd's Dog

Freaky little dog with freaky little eyes. Honestly would probably put me to sleep just like this album. 2/10

Crywank - Tomorrow Is Nearly Yesterday And Everyday Is Stupid

Here we see a certified looooong boy having achieved Dog Nirvana. I’ll let him enjoy victory over his tail and not disrupt him with my pets or adoration. 3/10

Car Seat Headrest - Twin Fantasy

Long before I knew anything about Will Toledo’s life as a furry, I thought this album cover was just a veiled homage to Daniel Johnston. I’d offer to pet these dogs, but honestly, it seems like they’re comforting each other just fine. 4/10

Hovvdy - Easy/Turns Blue

Technically a single, so technically a dog 5/10

Newgrounds Death Rugby - Pictures of Your Pets

No idea where these guys are, what they’re wearing, or why they're posing for a picture, but I can only imagine they’re a good hang. I’d let them crash on my couch while backpacking across the country. 6/10

Mo Troper - Dilettante

A vibrant and multi-colored dog. Truth be told, I don’t know quite what’s going on here, but the abstractness kinda adds to the charm. If I owned this dog, I’d name him Schlorp. 7/10

TTNG  - Animals

A landmark math rock album in which a group of five British men attempt to replicate the energy of 13 various animals across as many tracks. While the dog only may be one small piece of this album and its art, it’s hard to deny how small and cute this guy is. Plus, if he can coexist alongside an alligator, elk, baboon, and more, you just know he’s a stone-cold chiller. 8/10

Various Artists - No Earbudz Vol. 1

Look, ain't no rules says a dog can't play basketball. There also aren’t any rules that a PR company can’t put out one of the best compilations of 2021. Assisting in album campaigns for the likes of Bartees Strange, Into It Over It, Future Teens, Caracara, and more, No Earbuds is a killer organization that’s home to some of the best and brightest minds in emotional indie rock. Having all these artists cover each other was a stroke of genius. Here’s hoping we get a Vol. 2 someday. Very petable, very good. 9/10

Advance Base - Animal Companionship

Regal, majestic, pure. These are just a few of the words that come to mind when I look at the dog on the cover of Animal Companionship. He might be a little cold, but I’d gladly let him inside and allow him to warm up by the fire. Also, possibly my favorite album on this list besides TTNG. 10/10

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Okay, that about covers us for the two-dimensional dogs. Now, back to your regularly-scheduled dog ranking…

Alex G - Trick

Look at him go. He may have grown up in a religious environment, but you can just tell that this German Shepherd knows how to party. 6/10

Phoebe Bridgers - Stranger In The Alps

In Phoebe Bridgers’ first (and, in my opinion, best) album, we take in an image that, much like her music, is equal parts haunting and charming. Set on a pastoral farm scene, a scratched-out cartoon ghost obscures the humanoid figure beneath. A rainbow breaks through the sky, dog nearby, cautiously surveying the scene and looking damn cute while doing it. Phoebe has also posted a cool unedited version on Instagram, which is great for all your Deluxe Edition needs. 6/10

Hot Mulligan - you’ll be fine

Me? Depressed. Emotionless. Existing, but not feeling. My dog? Luckily my dog feels everything. We both take in the endless expanse of nature listening to the post-emo of you’ll be fine, and for 31 minutes, it seems like things might just turn out okay. 6/10

Pet Symmetry - Pets Hounds

Floppy-ass ears and big hangin’ tongues, what else could you want in an animal? I just know these dogs would be down for a couple of hours of fetch and a long rest on the front porch afterward. 7/10

Jimmy Mayo - Whoops

Boop. Oh, sorry, I didn’t see ya there. In what feels like the tonal inverse of the Nouns dog, here we have a warm but just-as-out-of-focus pic of a pup on the cover of one of the most underrated and under-the-radar emo EPs of the past few years. 7/10

See Through Person - Chariot

Another great emo dog. He’s chillin’, you’re chillin’, life is good, and the riffs are twinkly. 7/10

Kate Bush - Hounds of Love

The Stranger Things lady? Cool! All kidding aside, I’m happy for Kate Bush and the legions of Gen Z fans she’s recently attained. I’m even happier to report that the titular hounds on Hounds of Love appear infinitely cuddle-able. In fact, the album cover acts as undeniable proof of that fact. 8/10

Pet Symmetry - Two Songs About Cars. Two Songs With Long Titles.

Whoa, boom, second entry from the same band on one list! Pet Symmetry is easily taking home the “most dog-friendly band” award. They must have been trying to make this a theme in the band’s early days, and how could you deny them when you look at a dog this cute? A wonderful boy that I would drive to the dog park any day of the week. 8/10

Little Big League - Tropical Jinx

Michelle Zauner, mustaches, and a singular fluffy pup snuggled in between them. What else could you possibly need? 9/10

Beck – Odelay

One of the types of dogs. I’ve always wanted to pet him. I’ve always wanted to see him on a windy day. I’ve always wanted to see him do everything. 10/10

Shelley FKA DRAM - Big Baby DRAM

Damn, look at DRAM. Look at that pup. This image radiates happiness in a way that few album covers ever do. A perfect composition. 10/10

I Tried Weezify So You Don't Have To

On January 31st, the year of our lord 2022, the infinitely reputable Louder published a reality-shattering sentence onto the internet; Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo has built his own "Spotify-like player" known as Weezify. I read the headline multiple times, ensuring I was interpreting it correctly. I knew all those words, but I’ve never seen them arranged in such a way. Does this really mean what I think it means? 

This news was coming hot on the heels of musical titans like Neil Young and Joni Mitchell pulling their music off Spotify in the wake of the platform actively spreading anti-vaccine information. Elsewhere, Kanye West announced that his proprietary Stem Player hardware would be the only way to listen to his upcoming Donda 2. The music industry was shifting at speeds we’d never seen before. 

Artists are now beginning to realize that the negotiating power lies in their hands. They are the creators; platforms like Spotify and Apple Music are merely leeches that profit off their countless hours of hard work and years of honed craft. Much like the Starbucks workers unionizing and the Kellogg’s employees striking for better pay, we are collectively realizing the power we have in mutual support of each other. The pandemic has taught us many things as a society, but one of the more optimistic takeaways is discovering the strength we have in solidarity. Similarly, artists are clearly unhappy with the bill of goods they had been sold and are rightfully looking for alternatives. It’s time for innovation, true innovation. Enter Weezify. 

The proposition was simple. “Tired of Spotify? Come on over to Weezify.” Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo tweeted along with links to the Apple App Store, Google Play Store, and his personal website. How could I say no to that? Every day I wake up and listen to the 15-hour Weezer Discography playlist top to bottom; you mean to tell me that I can get this content somewhere else??

While many people (including myself) foolishly thought this was a goof or simply too good to be true, my curiosity got the better of me, and I soon found myself reluctantly clicking the link to the App Store. I stared at the app page for a minute as if I were standing outside the gates of heaven. “Be not afraid,” the icon seemingly whispered to me as I clicked the download button almost without thinking. 

Upon launching Weezify, you’re immediately greeted with a login screen. Still unsure if this was a legitimate app or just something designed to steal my social security information, I sheepishly clicked “Maybe later,” hoping that my fence-sitting response wouldn’t be reported directly to Mr. Cuomo himself. I am a Weezer Believer, but I also grew up in the era of computer viruses and Rickrolls, so I still have to follow my internet street smarts.

After clearing that screen, the app dumps the user directly into its “Player” tab, which I stared at for a good minute until I soon became crushed when I realized that it wasn’t going to load. A constantly-swirling blue loading icon taunted me, beckoning to the wild treasures that might hide behind it. My mind was racing.

Dismayed but not deterred, I clicked over to the “Profile” tab to work my way through the app left to right. I was informed that I was a “Lurker” as I stared at my profile picture: a Rivers Cuomo Funko Pop which sat perched atop a quote from “Surf Wax America.” Again, the app encouraged me to sign up or log in. Not yet, Rivers, you temptress. 

With the image of the cold, dead eyes of a Rivers Cuomo Pop Fig freshly burned into my mind, I clicked onto the “Market” tab and suddenly found myself face to face with… this.

Rivers Cuomo jump scare.

I howled. I recoiled. I don’t know what I expected to find on this page, but it was not a bowtie-clad Rivers Cuomo selfie staring me down. 

The top of the screen informed me that I own 0 of 12 bundles and 0 of 3236 demos. Three thousand two hundred and thirty-six demos. That’s enough Weezer to gorge yourself. That’s enough Weezer for a lifetime. That’s enough Weezer to bring you to your deathbed. 

I clicked on the selfie almost instinctively. It’s one of those moments where life has led you down a path, and you know what you must do. You can turn tail and run, but some divine being has led you to this moment, and you can decide to either press your thumb down gently upon Rivers Cuomo’s face, or you can deny yourself the experience that life has set out before you. 

A popup appeared with a slightly wider crop of the same photo and a description that reads, “New hope with our singing with Jonathan Daniel. Jake was a big influence.” Below that laid a series of confounding numbers. 

-2
-3
-4
-5
1-4-2-5 @126_2015_3_9_13_9_12
1-5-4
@771I_want_down_time_2015_2_23_17_23
116._one_time_2015_2_25_13_52_22

What is this? Some kind of code? Coordinates? A sleeper agent activation phrase? I was scared. 

Suddenly, audio began to emanate from my phone. I heard a Weezer song being played from a computer as Rivers Cuomo himself harmonized with the tune. Seemingly playing these tracks off of his personal speakers, Rivers clicked through various White Album-era demos and gave some background to the band’s recording process at the time. He rifled through the files, filled with wonder spurred by individual rarities and alternate melodies. It’s the same energy that I have while scrolling through my mp3 library, clicking on a half-dozen different tracks before landing on what I actually want to listen to. The difference here being that this was a man listening to his own songs. He sang along softly at various points before clicking feverishly onto the next file. After shuffling through various White Album oddities for a few unstructured minutes, he sighs, comes back to his senses, and unceremoniously says “alright… bye,” and then the recording ends. 

Slightly disoriented, I soon began to understand; each of these bundles had an “introduction” where Rivers himself gave some contextual background information on the specific era of the band and then encouraged you to purchase. Those numbers, coordinates, and inexplicable characters were individual tracks, all of which contribute to the collective 3-thousand-plus songs contained within the app. Whew. 

Rivers is no stranger to demos; his series of Alone albums from 2007, 2008, and 2011 gave a peek into the band’s early years and Cuomo’s specific creative process. This app is the slightly-illogical continuation of this, with thousands of demos available for Weezer superfans who want to fill every hour of every day with weird slightly-unpolished Weezer recordings unheard by most of the general population. 

With 12 bundles at $9 a pop (and one inexplicably priced at $10), that means you can currently have access to the entirety of the Weezer demo oeuvre for the low, low price of $109. How can one possibly say no to that?

In all seriousness, Weezify is a rough-around-the-edges app built for a bafflingly-small niche group of super fans. Is Weezify the answer to every intricacy of the Streaming Debate? Yes, it is. Will it replace Spotify? Also yes. Will I spend every waking hour of my life listening to things like “TechnoProgressions1 i VII VI iv”? Yes, I will. Thank you, Rivers Cuomo, for the one ethical musical streaming app, nay, company to ever have existed. 

My Favorite Type of Song

I just found out that one of my all-time favorite songs is about jerking off. 

Ever since I first heard the twangy guitar plucks of “My Name is Jonas” pouring out of Guitar Hero III as a teenager, I’ve been enamored with Weezer’s eponymous blue album. Over the course of the intervening decade, the band has been a constant source of edgy adolescent tunes, ironic memes, questionable artistic decisions, and unexpected comebacks. It’s not like I’d never heard of Weezer by 2007 (I’d heard “Beverly Hills” on the radio and “Island In The Sun” in a movie or two), it’s just that I didn’t know the band was actually, well, you know, good. 

Once I gave The Blue Album a listen in full, I “got” Weezer almost immediately. The ever-shifting mixture of Cars-esque power pop, feel-good surf tunes, and pop culture geekery were beguiling to my teenage brain. I got to become familiar with iconic singles like “Say It Ain’t So,” “Buddy Holly,” and “The Sweater Song,” all only my own, devoid of hype, expectations, or over-exposure via radio play. With lyrics that referenced X-Men and idolized (arguably) the least-cool member of KISS, I could tell this was an album tailor-made for a teenaged Taylor. More importantly, I could tell it was better and far more artistic than songs like “Beverly Hills” had led me to believe. 

For me, the cherry on top of The Blue Album came in the form of its final track. After nine songs of catchy hook-filled power pop, the group wraps the record up with the absolutely epic eight-minute closer “Only In Dreams.” This song blew me away the first time I heard it, and it continues to blow me away every subsequent time I listen to it. 

“Only In Dreams”  begins with a solitary bassline and light cymbal taps. An acoustic guitar joins in, then a snare. An electric guitar starts plucking away, and suddenly the entire band has taken up the melody without you even realizing it. After about a minute, a remorseful Rivers Cuomo enters the track and quickly establishes the stakes: “You can't resist her, she's in your bones / She is your marrow and your ride home.” He soon continues, further illustrating how omnipresent this figure is, singing,  “You can't avoid her, she's in the air (in the air) / In between molecules of oxygen and carbon dioxide.” Suddenly a whir of distortion kicks up, and the entire group bottoms out into a swaying, distorted borderline-shoegaze riff. 

Over the course of a verse and another couple of choruses, the lyrics paint a picture of romance, dancing, and adolescent clumsiness. Cuomo sings the title seven times, then lets the riff do the rest of the talking. The lyrics wrap up about four minutes into the song, and the back half of the track contains a beautiful, cresting instrumental that rises and falls with the power of a post-rock song. It’s a commanding display of emotion, musicianship, and artistry… Then I found out it was about nutting. 

That’s right, the song itself is meant to depict a dream where our hero is meeting this unnamed woman, dancing with her, then, you know, getting it on. This means the back half of the track; the build-up, the rises and falls, the constantly-beating drum, are all meant to be an auditory depiction of the narrator achieving climax. Hmm.

See, I’ve always liked this song for its format more than anything. It spends the perfect amount of time telling a compelling (if not a little vague) emotional story. Then, the band begins this instrumental jam that flows so seamlessly from the narrative. You don’t even realize how long this instrumental passage is until the song finally comes to a close, and you look down to see that eight minutes have passed. The song is segmented into these two beautiful acts that tell a story and then allow you, the listener, to fill in the rest. It’s about as creative and interactive as music ever gets. 

It took me until very recently to realize that many of my favorite songs share this exact same format. Perhaps two of the most famous examples would be “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” by The Beatles and “Transatlanticism” by Death Cab For Cutie. Both of these songs begin with simplistic instrumentals followed by a relatively straightforward bout of lyrics. Most importantly, both pieces are capped off with an instrumental back half that repeats the same measure over and over again to an almost hypnotic effect. In the case of The Beatles, “I Want You” is practically the template for Stoner Rock as we know it today. The song features a sludgy, slow-moving, and distorted riff that could perfectly accompany the slow-paced head bobbing of any given doom metal show. Meanwhile, “Transatlanticism” is a piano-led ode to long-distance relationships that begins with a remorseful delivery and dream-like logic. The song gradually builds underneath a repetition of “I need you so much closer…” before erupting into an instrumental that repeats the riff for four minutes straight because it’s that damn good. 

My point is, this is a style of song that’s more pervasive than we probably realize. It’s not just songs that are “long,” it’s songs that are long and winding and intentionally leave this vast wordless space for the listener to project their own feelings, thoughts, and experiences onto. 

Sometimes they are conceptual like “Maggot Brain,” where an environmentalist spoken-word intro leads to a soul-rending two-part guitar solo. Sometimes they are skillful shows of musicianship like Jimi Hendrix’s “Machine Gun,” where rapid bursts of guitar feedback emulate the sounds of guns, helicopters, dropping bombs, and other Vietnam imagery. 

Sometimes an artist sneaks it into the album in a way that’s subtle yet impactful, like Angel Olsen’s “Sister” or Soccer Mommy’s “Yellow is the Color of Her Eyes.” Sometimes the artist intentionally draws attention to this style of song by having it open an album as Japanese Breakfast does with “Diving Woman.” Other times, the artist will choose to close the record with this brand of winding instrumental stretch like the aforementioned Weezer, or even something like Jimmy Eat World’s “Goodbye Sky Harbor,” where the song’s lengthy 13-minute coda is either loved or immediately skipped over depending on who’s listening. 

Bands like The Antlers seem to craft these kinds of songs effortlessly. Songs like “Rolled Together” and “Endless Ladder” aren’t even that long but still have enough room to properly unfurl. Across the board, the examples are truly countless. There’s “Black Oak” by Slaughter Beach Dog, “Runaway” by Kanye West, “Drown” by Smashing Pumpkins, “Phone Went West” by My Morning Jacket, and hundreds more. These songs are all incredible and often my favorites of their respective bands. I’ve spent the better part of the last two years compiling these types of songs into one long, genre-free playlist on Spotify that I sometimes throw on when I can’t decide what else I want to listen to. This is just a format of song that clicks with my brain, and I really wish there was a term for it. 

One of my first instincts is to call these types of songs “jams,” but that evokes so many images of hairy hippies, tye-dye t-shirts, nitrous tanks, and ganja goo balls that the title becomes unappealing. Bands like Phish and even My Morning Jacket indeed go out of their way to transform their songs into “experiences” when played live, but given the types of songs that I’m talking about, the word “jam” feels almost dirty. I like the idea of following the twists and turns of a live performance; that can be an extraordinarily rewarding and powerful experience, I just don’t like what the word “jam” evokes for me (and I assume) most other people. 

I wouldn’t call “Transatlanticism” a jam song, but it undeniably bears many of the same qualities. Truth be told, what I’m discussing here is some mix of jam band tendencies, post-rock builds, and stoner rock song structures. I know the concept of “jamming” isn’t relegated to any one genre, band, or scene, but hearing it done well on-record is so rare. I can be listening to a random album like At Home With Owen and suddenly, halfway through, get hit with a seven-minute slow-burn like “A Bird In Hand” and be swept off my feet. 

This format is striking because they intentionally stray away from the three-to-five-minute verse/chorus/verse structure that many songs default to. A song like Pedro The Lion’s “Second Best” would never get played on the radio, regardless of what year it came out or how popular the band already was. Similarly, a cut like “13 Months in 6 Minutes” by The Wrens is pretty unlikely to be someone’s favorite track on the album. These songs are simply too long and too unwieldy for standard radio play, streaming binges, or music videos. They don’t lend themselves well to any of those formats because they’re meant to be experienced and taken in with a subconscious part of your mind working to fill in the blanks and flesh out the edges. 

That is what’s so great about these songs. They’re hypnotic. They invite you in and give you time to breathe, listen, think, and feel. They’re also ever-changing. Depending on where you’re at in life, you could take something totally different away from the instrumental as another listener. Hell, give it time, and the way you interpret any one of these songs will change based on what phase you’re at in your own life. It’s a Rorschach Test in musical form. 

Two of my favorite songs of all-time use this exact same format. First, there’s “Like A River” by Sharks Keep Moving (which I’ve written about in detail before), then there’s “Oh God, Where Are You Now?” by Sufjan Stevens (which I’ve also written about in loving detail over here). Shortly behind those two is “Only In Dreams” by Weezer.

You can see why I was so shocked to find out that “Only In Dreams” is about something as bodily and objectively-hilarious as ejaculation. I mean, the band doesn’t exactly play it for laughs, but I feel like that explanation kinda takes some of the mysticism away. Until you hear that exact commentary from the band, “Only In Dreams” could be literal, it could be metaphorical, it could just be weird poetry, but as soon as you know it’s about Rivers Cuomo pounding off, you’re just like “...oh.”

It’s like if you were in the middle of interpreting a deep meaning from an abstract piece of art from someone like Rothko or Pollock, and then the artist themselves came up behind you mid-thought and whispered, ‘this one’s about the time I shit my pants in a Taco Bell parking lot.’ You have no choice but to have reality come crashing down around you upon hearing that. The illusion is shattered, and all you’re left thinking about is low-grade meat, cold tortillas, and diablo hot sauce. While you were once finding some sense of existential peace in the art, now your mind is consumed by thoughts of your own body and its disgusting functions. 

An artist’s intent should not completely override your personal interpretation of the work, but finding out that the song’s creator had such an opposing message in mind is a little conflicting, to say the least. 

“Orange, Red, Yellow” by Mark Rothko (1961)

The doubly-funny part of this is that I know this type of song is not for everyone. If you’ve made it this far, I assume you probably enjoy this type of structure or, at the very least, are interested in where this is all going. See, I know these tracks are just tiring and overindulgent to some people, but what some might call long-winded, I call searching. What others see as boring musical repetition, I see as an empty canvas. What others interpret as masturbatory, I interpret as cosmically-affirming. 

At times, this format feels like the musical equivalent of a long take in film. André Bazin is a famous French film critic who has focused a great deal of his career writing about the realism of the “long take.” The long take is a filmmaking technique in which an individual shot has a much longer duration than the conventional editing pace either of the film itself or of movies in general. Bazin argues that directors use this technique out of a “respect for the continuity of dramatic space and its duration.” He argues that long takes are closer to how we as an audience perceive reality (i.e., unfolding in real-time) and, therefore, more impactful. It gives the viewer a personal choice of what to focus on, and it introduces ambiguity into the structure of the film. All of these concepts apply to music as well. 

Songs with this structure also have a strong sense of continuity. It feels as if we are being swept into the scenery along with the artist. As the listener, we have the choice to focus on the song as much or as little as we like. We can listen to individual instruments, pick apart the time signature, figure out how this melody flows from the lyrics, or just let our mind wander with the band as our guide. That’s powerful.

Ironically, much like the song format I’m attempting to write about, I don’t have much of a defined ending for this piece. Instead, I’ll opt to do something I never do and close this article out with a quote. I know that’s a bit of a cop-out, but it’s too relevant to this discussion for me not to include. In their recently-unearthed Oregon City Sessions, there’s a section where Portugal. The Man lead singer John Gourley discusses the band’s creative process circa 2008 and how they re-interpret their own creations in a live setting. In it, he simply explains,

“I’ve always really liked that droney… I mean, calling it ‘background music’ is not the best way to talk about it, but I love things like that. I’d love to do a record eventually where we can just go for ten minutes and do what a song needs to do as opposed to culling those points as far as the song structure goes. I think we should be a little bit more loose.”