Fractionals

"I'm glad I'm not as unhappy as I once thought I was"
Scott Levesque

(read this first)

It all started with A Life Less Ordinary.

Well. That's not true, really, but it might as well have, and you have to pick somewhere to start from.

Like everyone else I knew in high school, when the movie came out in the wake of Trainspotting and (to a lesser degree) There's Something About Mary we all kind of wanted to see it. I never got around to it, although not because I was dissuaded by the reviews or negative feedback from people I know who saw it.

For years, it remained one of those "yeah, I should see it eventually" movies. And then one of the very first things Joy mentioned after she got back to Canada was that she was desperate to find a copy. Which was weird - I hadn't heard anyone so much as mention the film in a couple of years and then all of a sudden here it turns out one of my friends loved it so hard.

A few weeks later (I think) she managed to find a copy, and a few weeks after that I watched when when I was over at her place.

And I loved it. Don't get me wrong, I can understand the criticisms I've heard levelled at it, but they just don't matter to me. My love for the film has little to do with this essay/article/column/whatever you'd like to call it, so I'm not going to elaborate on it too much, but warts and all it's now one of my favorite films ever.

When he was in town recently, Jeromy at one point brought up the subject of sincerity (my word - I think he used "cheeziness", but I reserve that word for the pejorative sense, or in other words, fake sincerity). It's not terribly popular, both I think because of the kinds of thought or ideology that are perceived (fairly or not) as being presented as "more" sincere and because it's harder to react to for my generation. We were raised obsessed with cool, and being cool means not caring about things. That pernicious mindset has stuck with most of us, and even though people I know are pretty comfortable with it, the culture doesn't seem to be.

Anyway, both A Life Less Ordinary and Per Second, Per Second, Per Second... Every Second are unfashionably sincere, I think. That's not the only connection, of course, but first let me go back to the beginning again.

I've had three MP3s by Wheat on my computer since first year ("Death Car", "Flat Black" and "Off The Pedestal", fact fans!); I downloaded them off of Epitonic when I first discovered the site, and although I love at least the first two of them (especially "Flat Black", "Wish You Were Here" homage and all), but I'd never been able to find Hope And Adams, possibly because it was released on an American indie label.

And then something like five copies of Per Second... (as I'm going to abbreviate it) showed up in my local record store. Now, having heard the album and having noticed the backlash I can see why they got there, but I was originally a little taken aback. And reluctant to purchase one.

I mean, all those people had to know something, right? And I'll admit to hating the album cover at first (hey, out of such shallow things are the courses of mighty rivers changed, etc, etc). But I remembered what one of my favorite music writers ever (and I'm not just saying this because he'll probably read this - hi Glenn!) had to say about it, and I knew I had to risk the measly $8 that it would take to find out if I agreed with him.

Well, there's another similarity with A Life Less Ordinary that I hadn't thought of before now - both were long-delayed experience that made me a rapturous convert.

But the similarity that kicked off my desire to do one of these one the whole album, not just a song, is that I listened to Per Second... recently, and it was one of those perfect listens. Not when you put on a record for the first time and it blows you away, and not even when you find an old favorite and put it on and it's just as good as it ever was. No, I'm talking about a phenomenon that really only happens once with every album, where you've heard it enough to know all the songs, but not enough for it to be really familiar, and you put it on and for the duration, it is temporarily The Greatest Album Ever Made By Mankind Ever. Not all records do it, and those that do have you allegiance forever, even if you don't actually listen to them all that often any more (hello, Radiohead!).

And it was during this listen that it occurred to me that, at least on tonal or thematic or emotional ground, Per Second... would make an excellent alternate soundtrack to A Life Less Ordinary. It's already got a perfectly good set of songs attached to it, no disrespect intended, but something about the two just seemed akin to me.

So I'm doing the whole album. And since I love structure, I'm doing it song-by-song.

I Met A Girl
I said I met a girl I'd like to know better
But I'm already with someone

Boy, that opening acoustic guitar strum is deceptive. This is maybe the least intuitively catchy song on the album, and even then it's pretty poptastic. But the whole thing stops and starts at odd angles, especially during the chorus, even as Scott Levesque's vocal soars over top. Like most of the record, it's got a clean, slightly busy production by Dave Fridmann, but the little touches are always endearing (check out the way someone says "Okay" in the background every time Levesque finishes the refrain). And yet it still has a middle eight with back and forth vocals and piano that wraps the whole thing in the kind of low-key epic quality that's present here in spades.

And then there's the lyrical conceit; you can change the details as much as you wish, but the central core is the same: There's someone you're interested in and something stopping you. In this particular instance it's something that should be holding you back, but still the volumes of different inflection Levesque manages to give those two lines is marvellous. It starts out joyous, a shout to the heavens, but then you get to the second verse, and it's all

And you've got permission to see other men while you sleep
And we wage perpetual war for perpetual peace

And the sentiment gets a bit darker. Is "someone" an albatross? Levesque passes through defiance, rueful regret, cheeky defiance and a bunch of other delicately shaded emotions, and he's just shout/singing the refrain. Whether this individual instantiation of the problem has happened to you or not, we've all been there, in some fashion.

Breathe
I was standing outside too long
Coming on way too strong
You needed an alibi
But I was inside and high

There's a strong streak of humility all through Per Second..., epistemological, emotional, and otherwise. Levesque's voice really has the most amazing sense of texture - it's been really well recorded and although he sings every song here but one, there's something in the performance of each song to focus on and love. "Breathe" introduces some of the running themes that really have nothing to do with the movie this makes me think of, namely that there is real history between the narrator and the person he's singing to, and not always a happy one. Relationships we know nothing about crash through the underbrush like the ghosts of dinosaurs; all we hear about are the aftereffects and tangents. But something new is starting:

You better stand right next to me, for now

The chorus' directive to breath for me now / 'cause I can't find the air actually reminds me of the physicality of my favorite song about making out ever (#9, lyrics are found here), but there's an undercurrent of disconnection to "Breathe" too (it's like I wasn't there). But what's really important about that chorus is the way the backing vocals really seal the deal, the falsetto "la" after the first two lines is just perfect.

These Are Things
And life sure passes you by
When you're living in living rooms
Maybe you should find a place of your own

This one starts out kind of like it's going to be a ballad, but quickly kicks into high gear; it reminds me of Creeper Lagoon, who had one album I absolutely adored for about six months, but this is less blustery. Less nonsense "rawk" lyrics, more oblique ones about real life. I think I might have sold that album; I can't find it, in any case.

As with "I Met A Girl", this has an incredible late-song part that kicks in overdrive and elevates an otherwise good song to greatness. By the time Levesque really puts his metaphorical back into declaring these are things I did for my love he's fully overruled the pragmatic bent (for now I've got to look out for me) of much of the song. The tension inherent in the opening Leave, but come home soon is there for most of the album, and that's one of the things I love about Per Second...: It's as much about the day in day out of being with someone as it is about picking up the pieces and starting again. Personal history swirls thickly around, but it's all mingled up (the at times abstract lyrics help).

He never lists the things. That's sort of the point.

Life Still Applies
I remember my heroes that way
I remember them fine

I actually really didn't like this on the first time I heard the album. It was the chorus, just a high pitched repetition of the title. And as much as I love the sentiment (how much trouble, emotional and otherwise, do we get into when we forget it?), I couldn't stand it. It's grown on me, but I can't say I have much to add about it. I still think it's one of the weaker tracks, although that's not saying much.

Go Get The Cops
Before you go out
In Saturday's best
I want the house
The house is a mess

Sad (or bittersweet?), slow, quiet and pretty, "Go Get The Cops" is really the first time Per Second... downshifts. This actually would have fitted in perfectly with A Life Less Ordinary, with either party telling the other

Go get the cops
Why don't you stop
Thinking it over

It's a push/pull again, of course. Levesque says why don't you stay? but also come back inside when you're ready to fight, and again history (even if we don't know what it is) weighs heavy. It's a plea for action, any action, directed at the other party. At the end Levesque just repeats thinking it over, and it's no longer something to stop doing, it's a prayer. Should I stay or should I go? Should you? One of the central tensions in all human relationships is a desire to know how the other feels without tipping your own hand, to be secure in others' affections without putting yourself out there. It's impossible, of course, and Wheat know that. They can't stop it, for any of us (I will write about Aimee Mann's "Wise Up" and "Save Me" at some point), but they can make it beautiful.

Some Days
And most days we don't regret
And most words we say are true
And we force each little step
When something anything would do

And now, the rebound. "Some Days" is ambivalent but optimistic, gloriously surging, opening with guitar fuzz and some "ooh ooh"s and things go a bit syncopated again. And then:

Some days, love takes its time
And I don't know a thing about it
And some days you change your mind
Because I sure change my mind a lot about you

How can this be a love song? But it is, Levesque again sounding rueful as he admits the depths of his ignorance and his indecision. But, listen: We change our minds about our loved ones constantly (anyone with siblings can confirm this). Note the emphasis on "some", "most", "a lot" and so on in the lyrics. This may be the least absolutist (and thus most human) album I've heard in years. He doesn't know a thing about love, he can't make up his mind, and it's okay. Listen to the joy in the music and the peformance and tell me otherwise.

I don't just want music that acknowledges the complexities of human life, I want music that affirms that those paradoxes are a vital part of us and we can stop worrying about them. Just embrace them and get on with our lives.

World United Already
So take
All that you've learned
And all that you've lived
To understand
That it takes
All that I have
And all that I know
Just to hold on

More wryness, from the title on down. Yes, life is difficult (there are also difficult lives, which all of us should be greatful we don't have), but beyond that there is the bare fact that existence is not a cakewalk, no matter how blessed we are in our individual circumstances. But again, as Wheat keep telling us, this is not cause for pissing and moaning and whining. So your life is tough. So are they all.

This is the one not sung by Levesque, although I'm not sure if it's Ricky Brennan or Brendan Harney. I do know having a little keyboard voice constantly going yeah was genius, though. The key line here is I finally feel I'm on to you now, and again it could apply just fine to a new relationship, a healthy one, or a dead one. It would fit nicely with some of the more trying parts of A Life Less Ordinary, too.

Hey, So Long (Ohio)
Sat right close for a year and a half
You were getting pretty close to the people in the back
And I was there when your guard had dropped
I was too tired to bend, too tired to stop

This is the one throwback to Wheat's older, murkier style, and it's one of my favorites on the album, but particularly at the end, as the distant strings get closer and the guitar roars in and as they sing "ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh" the fog lifts. The backing vocals, as always on this album, are crucial. It's a song of goodbye, but one about falling in love and how ambivalent that can make you feel towards the person you want to be with.

I see guys make this mistake all the time, made it a few times myself (hopefully never again); as soon as you treat the other person like a problem to be solved, like something adversarial, you've lost. We all start speculating about motives, trying to plan out what to do and what to say, and no matter how pure your intentions, it comes down to the same thing: You wind up trying to manipulate that person, on some level. Even if you get what you want you won't get what you want.

As a wise man once said, all advice is just ways of saying "let it go".

The Beginner
And I'm not falling apart at the
Priceless points of the problems and
Crumble only when prompted to now

The next quiet one. Starts off with just the guitar and Levesque and it sounds like he's singing late at night, and it slowly builds as he admits a little frailty but shows resolve and then he concludes with

Everyone gets what they want
Everyone gets what they want, all the time

But that's not why I love this song so much. It's the slowly dawning wonder in his voice as he softly adds even me, he mournful keyboard part as he repeats it like he's savoring the new reality of the idea. It's the sound of someone allowing something good to happen to him, something he probably didn't ever think he deseved before, and it's beautiful.

Of course, becoming open to the possibilities doesn't solve everything, but it helps.

Can't Wash It Off
And I was falling all around
You held my hand so tightly
But you had to stop

Again the rebound (and again the crucial backing vocals!). "Can't Wash It Off" is the rare song to fully slip away from that fundamental problem so many of us (myself included) have, of putting yourself out there without worrying if you'll be hurt. It goes like this:

Do you really want me?
Do you really want me?
Because I really really want you

We usually, to our detriment, omit the last because we're afraid of getting hurt. But this song isn't timid, it's full of happiness and love. This might be the first album of Stoic love songs I've ever heard. Stoicism isn't about supressing your emotions; it's about realising that certain things are out of our control. He sings it like it doesn't matter to him what her response it, and that's not quite true; it's just that he's not worrying about it, because he can't do anything to change how she feels. Harder than it sounds, usually, but this is a great example of how life-affirming it can be. Would that we were all so brave.

Closer To Mercury
Because I'm a fan
From way back when you faltered
Waiting for your man
If you can remember
I was standing there with you

The full on release of all the good feeling flowing throughout Per Second..., and accompanied by a sentiment I usually hate. More good people (of both genders) have had their months and years ruined by pining for someone who was unavailable. But he wasn't pining - he was waiting. I can't explain the difference.

And besides, wouldn't you say / I've been an idiot for you?

But as always, this is all about the delivery. The stomp of the verses, the glide of the chorus, it's funny how I adore you. And then, at the end, the heart of the whole album, sung by Levesque from afar:

I'm getting along
Now that I've found salvation
Not that I've found salvation I
Open your eyes salvations now

It's always now. That's the whole point. What are you waiting for?

This Rough Magic
And carrying counts for something
When you can give it all away

It start off slow, with great drumming. It meanders around gorgeously for a few minutes, gives the album its epitaph, or motto or whatever, and then kicks in a jazzy trumpet and gently plays the album out. It's a wonderful pentultimate song. It's technically the last track, but Per Second... has one of the few bonus tracks worth listening to every time.

Don't I Hold You (Alternate Version)
Don't I hold you like you want to be held
And don't I treat you like you want
And don't I love you like you want to be loved
And you're running away

This song, like Teenage Fanclub's "Ain't That Enough", is not a reproach. Neither question is cruel rhetoric. Neither wants the other to feel bad. Both admit (again, the humility) that sometimes the answer is no. And both are nevertheless hopeful and loving. This is an old song of Wheat's, but it's better here. The old song didn't have the bit at the end where Levesque croons sometimes I hold you right (again, the "sometimes" where few bands would put it), or the background bits that sound like hearts fluttering.

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As always, I've fallen disasterously short of my goal, the put into words the way I love this album, but I've long reconciled myself with the impossibility of that task. Per Second, Per Second, Per Second... Every Second is wonderful pop music in the best sense and of the highest order; it should have sold millions. As it is, there are still probably used copies left in my local shop, if you'd like me to grab one for you. And if you don't listen to this, I hope for your sake you have something in your life as powerful and as humane and as full of love and humour and wisdom as this.

And I hope God will mend
The little things I break and bend
And equal it to the love I made
Wheat, "This Rough Magic"