I know there are a lot of people out there having a rough time right now, so I figured I'd assemble something I'd been meaning to assemble for a long time: My List of Songs That Ought to Be Listened to at 11. Or at least a mild variation of that list.

So, there are certain songs for which I always turn up the volume in the car: this contains a lot of them. What I thought about, though, in assembling this playlist, is that the songs that I do this for are songs that just make me feel better when I listen to them (or if I'm alone in the car, when I sing along to them). So some of them (like The Streets) may not be things that I turn up when they come on, but they're all pretty much songs that make me happier having listened to them, increased volume or no.



I'll post this now. I need to eat dinner. Once that's done, I'll put something behind a cut about each of the songs. In the meantime, enjoy.


I know you're not supposed to put two songs by the same artist on the same mix, much less one right after the other, but in the case of Pavement this can't be helped. These two songs open up Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain—which has got to be one of the finest albums of the 90s—and they set the tone for much of the rest of the album: loud layers of guitars, cryptic lyrics that beg to be sung along with, and playing that's so loose it almost sounds sloppy. There's so much to be loved in both songs I couldn't choose: I couldn't trade the nearly-shameless (and successful) theft of the melody line of Buddy Holly's "Every Day" for the line "Because there's forty different shades of black." Ah well.

Sticking with the Ps, I've got one of my favorite tracks by The Police (and, by the way, if you have a red vinyl copy of Synchronicity or know where to find one, let me know: I've got the blue and yellow [this is a really nerdy thing and you may even have a colored copy and not know it: the color is VERY subtle, but can be discerned by holding the record up to a light] and I can't resist the urge to have all three). The lyrics may not be the most uplifting thing—"a humiliating kick in the crotch" is one of the few lyrics I can remember—but the guitar part under the verses makes me feel good when I hear it. Not sure I can explain it any better than that.

So, yes, I'm one of those: I think New Order is a better band than Joy Division ever was (and I've been known to make tasteless jokes about Ian Curtis to this effect as well). And it could just be that I'm a child of the early 90s, but I think this is their best song (despite how good "Bizarre Love Triangle" is). The guitar hook just does me in.

The Magic Numbers are a solid band and this is the opening song to their debut album (one hell of an opening, if you ask me), after which they follow up with the equally great "Forever Lost." Sadly, the rest of the album isn't quite as good as those first two songs, but it still holds up (and probably would have sounded better had they spaced their best two songs out a bit, rather than lumping them at the front). Whenever I put this in my CD player, I never have the volume turned up quite as much as I'd like when the drums come in after Romeo Stodart sings "You're in denial and I know," so I almost always have to turn it up and restart, but this is truly a song that benefits from the volume knob.

I like "Astral Glamour" because it takes a bunch of different turns in under two minutes. The Homosexuals are one of those punk bands that only did a little bit in the late 70s and early 80s, and all of their stuff can be had on the Astral Glamour collection. They were one of the first punk bands I heard who showed me that punk could be more interesting than three chords played loud.

Now, I dare you—triple dog dare you, in fact—not to fall in love with this Magnetic Fields song. It's imfuckingpossible. It was probably wise of Stephin Merritt to hand off the vocals to somebody else for this song: his baritone wouldn't get the boyish joy that a higher voice brings to the song. Even though I dislike New York City, this song makes me think fond thoughts about the Lower East Side (well, this song and Katz's). If you haven't listened to 69 Love Songs, by the way, you should. It's exactly as advertised, 69 love songs, and it's one of the most varied, interesting and creative albums I own.

I first heard of Mason Jennings from arkadyan, and it was this very song I heard first. There's a ton to love about it: "where the fuck didya come from?" is a great line to ask a girl you're in love with, the pulsing rhythm just gets into you and the transition in time signature from verse to chorus still has me scratching my head.

Don't you dare skip this next song. "Uptown Girl" is a fine song and Billy Joel is a fine songwriter. Don't believe me? Sing along to it. Even if you don't know the words. Just turn it up and sing along to the "oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh" part. It feels great. And how can you not love the break about halfway through the songs or the use of words like "fi-yi-yine" and "my-yi-yine"? Hey, it was either this or "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant," so count yourselves lucky.

Like The Dude, I don't like The Eagles. But I make an exception for Don Henley, and not just because of his involvement with the conservation of Walden Pond (seriously! he's awesome and a Thoreauvian to boot!), but because he's a kickass songwriter. Case in point: how many other songs can you name that have TWO catchy hooks in ONE chorus? Huh? Like, for a long time, I thought this was two songs because I couldn't wrap my mind around how one song that had the catchy "I'm learning to live without you now" hook could stand another catchy hook—"I've been trying to get down to the heart of the matter"—without distracting from the first one. I'm completely serious about how good this song is. The chorus is like an überchorus and deserves a lot more car-singing than any stupid Eagles song. So there.

Don't you just love those ringing acoustic guitars? It sounds like there are at least three of them. This is another song here that's likely a product of my age—and in terms of James songs, I was tempted to go with "Laid," but this one just felt like a better choice: it's catchy without having a kitschy hook (Tim Booth singing "prriiii-teeeeeeeeeeee") and it's got more going on in it lyrically than "Laid" does.

I've got no idea where the pigs are in this song, but that doesn't matter. The Mountain Goats are always great and I just love the "I come from Chino" lines that John Darnielle seems to sneer every time he sings them. Recorded in Washington, too—hey!

And onto one of Washington's other darlings, Modest Mouse. This is probably my favorite song of theirs and there have been days when I just put it on repeat and sing along at the top of my lungs, "Your heart / Felt good / It was drippin' pitch and made of wood / And your hands / And knees / Felt cold and wet on the grass to me / Well, outside, naked, shiverin', lookin' blue / From the cold sunlight that reflected off the moon / And baby come angels / Fly around you / Remindin' you we used to be three and not two / And that's how the world began / And that's how the world will end." There's something about the phrasing of the last two lines that just kills me. That and the lyrics seem to be hinting at having children as being as close as we can come to the divine. Atheist that I am, the chorus still gets to me.

"Buggin'" may very well be the most triumphant song The Flaming Lips have ever recorded (or any band has recorded, for that matter). This is a song that definitely deserves to be turned up to 11 and can improve your mood, no matter how shitty you feel. Listen to those layered vocals in the lead-up to each chorus; the wonderfully thick, fuzzy bass pumping the song forward; the bright guitar arpeggios sitting on top of everything; those two naked and Bonham-like quarter note snare hits right before the second chorus; FUCKING HARPS! I'll say it now: there's nothing wrong with this song and a whole helluva lot right. And if you only know the FLips through Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots, this song is the case for picking up The Soft Bulletin which is just as good (if not better). And if you don't have either album, for shame.

Steve Winwood is one of my guilty pleasures that I don't think I have to feel guilty about. I mean, he's got bona fides out the ass: Spencer Davis Group! Traffic! Blind Faith! Steve Winwood doesn't have anything to prove to you: he's been in more incredible bands than most musicians ever get the chance to be in and he was friends with both Clapton and Hendrix. And before you scoff at this song (which I love for its synth work, cheesy though it may be—it always makes me think of women in unitards jazzercising), Winwood recorded this album by himself. He played every single instrument. If we could all be as talented and cool and successful as Steve Winwood, we'd be happy people.

I came to Son Volt before I had heard of Wilco (and before I knew they both came from Uncle Tupelo), and this was the first song I heard when the album came out in 1994—the "You're causin' it" hook (and the cowbellosity) sucked me in. That and Jay Farrar's voice: there's no other like it. And if you ever need an album to mope to, his second solo release Terroir Blues is a fine one.

Buzzcocks are another of my favorite punk bands, again because they break the three-chord mold. I love the dueling lead guitar lines that drive the song, as well as the shift from minor to major key in the chorus. It's one of the poppiest songs about regret I know.

And what better to follow up a song about love's foibles than a song that opens with somebody uncorking a bottle? Dinosaur Jr. may be yet another band I love because of when I grew up, but their albums from Green Mind on are all great, not least because of J. Mascis's thick guitar lines. The hook to this song is fairly obvious: the two bent notes at the end of each chorus, but the real fun part comes when he solos. He's like a more melodic Frank Zappa, all over his guitar neck in surprising ways that harmonically complement the chorus melody. That's him on drums too, pounding away. A lot of people preferred the band when it was Mascis, Murph and Lou Barlow, but I dunno. Without a Sound is a solid album without them.

I don't know why I picked up this Citizens' Utilities album. I don't know much about them, save for that they were local, as I think I heard them on a local music show (though I can't remember what song I heard). The guitar work here is similar to Mascis's, though the vocals are a lot brighter than his. And how can you not love a title (and lyric!) that goes "She Taught Me Everything There Is To Know About Poultry." That feels more like a dare than a real lyric, but it works. I love the dissonant guitar couplet that resolves every fourth measure or so before each chorus. A nice hook.

I've got the live version of My Morning Jacket's "Anytime" on here for two reasons: 1) somehow I have yet to rip the album Z to my iTunes library, even though I've had it for over a year and a half; 2) the live version kicks ass. This was the song that turned me on to MMJ, when I saw them perform it on Conan (I can't find that performance, but I can find a clip of them playing the version I have here, off Okonokos) and I bought the album soon after. Not a mistake. A very good album that lives up to the hype. My favorite parts of this song are: how it manages to still be poppy even with a very bottom-heavy, driving opening riff; the way Jim James's voice cracks when he sings "Is this 'Climbing up to The Moon'?"; and of course the gratuitous Madonna reference which, despite all odds, works well. This is one of those songs that I often put on repeat for a while.

"I Don't Want to Be Here" is one of the few XTC songs to appear on Andy Partridge's Fuzzy Warbles collection (it was initially going to be a bunch of CDs full of XTC demos, but Colin Moulding backed out, so the only demos are the Andy-centric ones). This is just a great poppy song that makes me wish XTC were still making music. They are, after all, the best pop band to have ever existed.

Warren Zevon is always good. And "Lawyers, Guns and Money" is one of half a dozen good reasons that everyone should own Excitable Boy. I like to listen to it loud and try to get the yelps and grunts at the end of the song down right.

Somehow I have lost my physical (autographed!!!) copy of Mike Doughty's Haughty Melodic, and that is a very sad thing indeed, as it's a great album from start to finish. It feels honed and carefully crafted, likely because he was working on the material for years. The production value on every song is top-notch and this one is no exception. Plus, he uses "decathecting" in a lyric. How cool is that? This song just makes you feel good.

Oh, man. This was one of the first songs I thought of when I thought of "Songs To Be Played At 11." Bruce Springsteen will never be uncool, and this song is one of those reasons. It's got one of the biggest sounds I know: guitars, drums, bass, organs, horn section, AND A FUCKING GLOCKENSPIEL!!! HE ROCKS YOUR SOCKS OFF WITH A GLOCKENSPIEL!!! How cool is that? I mean, seriously. There's no messing with how great this song is (and the entire album, too, but right now we're just concerned with the song) as a song, and no messing with how tight the E Street Band is on this track (like Mothers of Invention tight, here). I think the song is great because it marries raw sexual energy with the open road—it's quintessentially American in that regard. You can hear the passion in Springsteen's voice as he tears through "The highway's jammed with broken heroes on a last chance power drive" and by the end of the song, be you male or female, gay or straight, you want to be Wendy, so you can "wrap your legs round [those] velvet rims / And strap your hands across [his] engines."

"Underground" is probably my favorite song on Ben Folds Five's debut album. It's silly fun and gets exponentially better as it gets louder. I think I love the song (and the band) because Ben Folds's vocal range is approximately my vocal range (like, we both break into our head voices at around the same note, which makes singing his songs comfortable for me). And how can you not love a nice shuffling song in which one of the band members says in his most regal voice "hand me my nose ring!"?

If I had to pick a favorite David Bowie album, Hunky Dory would be one of the contenders (though how can one pick a favorite?!). I was thinking of going with "Life on Mars" or "Quicksand." But I like the sing-along aspect of the chorus. Simple pleasure, I know, but I'm a simple man.

And, yes, I put all three songs featuring a prominent piano together, ah well. I like Madness; they're pretty much the only ska band I can stand, and "It Must Be Love" has to be one of their best songs. It's fun to sing along with.

I don't know if Clap Your Hands Say Yeah were a passing indie fad, but I liked their first album and this is a very good song (even if the lead singer is a bit derivative of David Byrne), which I loved playing over and over again in my car. And it's fun to learn the lyrics and mumble them along.

Arcade Fire are another group like My Morning Jacket who appear to put on one kick-ass live show, full of energy. I was initially not very big on the band until I saw this track with David Bowie and I could see the energy they put into the song (well, that and David Bowie likes them, so that has to count for something). There's something to be said for having a wordless chorus, too (and that's another playlist I need to make, though I don't know if I want completely instrumental choruses, or if something like the long "oh" of this song would count, or things like the chorus from "The Boxer" would count -- I suppose I'll collect what I have at some point and figure it out). Seriously, watch the video. There's something incomparably moving about watching nine people singing their hearts out and playing with such ferocity (watch the little guy pound on the drum and tambourine). Like, never mind the cuts to Heather Graham bopping along—just watch how everyone is singing (even the people playing strings). The lyrics certainly aren't very happy:

Somethin' filled up
My heart with nothin',
Someone told me not to cry.

But now that I'm older,
My heart's colder,
And I can see that it's a lie.

Children wake up,
Hold your mistake up,
Before they turn the summer into dust.

If the children don't grow up,
Our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up.
We're just a million little gods causin' rain storms turnin' every good thing to rust.
I guess we'll just have to adjust.

But there's a spirit about the song—and I think it's in the chorus—that's just uplifting. I don't know what else to say about it.

I like the lo-fi quality of the Built to Spill song, and the chorus is great. I especially like the line "I wanna see it when you find out what comets, stars, and moons are all about." Not necessarily a happy song, but a song that gets under your skin (or at least mine).

"Empty Cans" is one of the outliers in this list, but then again The Streets are a bit of an outlier. A word of introduction, since this is the final song of a concept album (A Grand Don't Come for Free). In the first song, we learn that Mike (Skinner—not clear if this is autobiographical or not) has misplaced £1,000. Later we also learn that his TV is broken (as he's always watching TV at his girlfriend's place). The main plot of the album is the entire scope of Mike's relationship with a woman named Simone, who ends up cheating on him with one of his friends (Dan). In "Empty Cans" we come upon Mike drunk at home, having been brushed off by Simone, even when he suggested having an open relationship. "Empty Cans" splits in the middle: the first half is a scenario in which Mike isolates himself from his friends (even his friend Scott, who knew about the affair between Dan and Simone, and who eventually told him about it, even though he didn't want to get involved in what he foresaw would be a messy fallout) and gets into a fight with a TV repairman; once that happens, the song restarts with a different scenario in which Mike reconciles with Scott and things take a turn for the better. The cool thing is that he uses the same backing track as in the first part, but overlays it with a nice ascending piano part and a melodic vocal line and that makes all the difference. A Grand Don't Come For Free is a remarkable album in how Skinner is able to take the boring minutiae of his life (sitting around watching TV, getting stoned, going to raves, getting into bar fights) and somehow elevate them to art. It's worth a listen at least; it's certainly not everyone's cup of tea, but I still think it's a notable achievement.

The last song here, Mark Eitzel's "Proclaim Your Joy," is another outlier, but an outlier for Mark Eitzel. His work, both solo and with American Music Club, falls into the "slowcore" or "sadcore" (I hate these labels) genre—but that's a decent way of describing them/him: a tendency toward sad and slow music (though not entirely). That said, "Proclaim Your Joy" is a fun poppy song and ME/AMC have very few fun poppy songs. But it's a nice song, and one that ends with an important message, I think: "It is important throughout your life to proclaim your joy."

Well, anyhow, I've nattered on longer than I thought I would. I hope you all enjoyed the music.