You're pretty good with words but words won't save your life

The more time I spend on the internet, the more I believe in the collective unconscious Jung had in mind (deep, deep, deep in mind).

For instance, just this morning I had been thinking that it was a real shock that The Hold Steady had grown on me so much. I really didn't like the band at all on first listen, but the songs would pop up every once in a while on the iPod, and suddenly I can't get "Chips Ahoy!" out of my head.

And just now, this entry from the Guardian blogs turned up in my feeder. I love the description of Craig Finn's lyrics as "Carver set to rock." But it goes beyond lyrics. The music itself is a Carverian experience, self-destructive, angry, and inspiring all at once. Listening to The Hold Steady, I get the feeling I used to get listening to the music on the radio in Southwestern Ohio: Hüsker Dü. The Afghan Wigs. The Pretenders. The Replacements. All that sticky American rock I'm sometimes afraid to admit liking out loud. Dive bar jukebox music. Springsteen. Hear that piano refrain? Songs I want to drink beer to. Wearing a sweat-stained threadbare white t-shirt and old jeans. Sitting in the back of a pick-up truck on the edge of a corn field. Or in someone's wood-panelled basement playing air hockey and Scum.

You know, on those days.

Recommended, via www.theholdsteady.com: "Stuck Between Stations (Live on The Current)" (mp3), and The Hold Steady podcast (mp3), which features some of their influences. (Wow. I haven't listened to The Descendents since college. Hello again, Milo.)

© Zan McQuade. All rights reserved.