/reader

Today’s song is “Why We Cry at Movies” by As Tall As Lions.

I know we sometimes get a little silly and hyperbolic around here, but I hope you'll allow me a moment of absolute, complete, undeniable sincerity so I may opine about one of my closest held convictions: the dissolution of the band, As Tall As Lions, is one of humanity's great tragedies. Yes, I am aware of the other ones.

Never in my life have I ever experienced emotional distress about the news of a band breaking up like I did with them. In fact, growing up I distinctly recall watching Apollo 13 repeatedly, and I always thought it seemed ridiculous that Tom Hanks's daughter was so upset about The Beatles breaking up. I didn't understand how anyone could love a band so much. Like, I understood loving music, but the music lasts forever! But the band? Some people that I never knew? Frankly, it felt like none of my business! Why should I care?

But in 2010, I finally understood.

Okay, wait a sec—quick aside! I would normally put this in a footnote, but I think this warrants greater attention. As Tall As Lions broke up in 2010. 2010. 14 years ago (13 and almost a half years ago if you wanna be really pedantic about it). It is 2024. 2024 minus 2010 is 14. 14 years. They broke up 14 years ago. I was 24 years-old. Twenty-four! I wasn't even married the first time yet. 24 years old and this band went away, poof. 14 years ago. This is impossible! Is it trite to be nearly 40 and lamenting the unyielding march of time? Is it cliché—passé, even?—to highlight how the older we get, the more that time compresses, until it is flattened into an impermeable disc with no beginning, middle, or end? That something that feels like it just happened yesterday, is in actuality, something that occurred nearly a decade and a half ago? DO NOT ANSWER RHETORICAL QUESTIONS, IT IS OBNOXIOUS. Just let me process.

Between 2003 and 2009, As Tall As Lions released three LPs. The first two are perfect albums.¹ Back-to-back winners. 21 unskippable tracks between the two of them. Early 2000s kinda-indie-rock-kinda-emo anthemic audial bliss. Ethereal, meandering guitar riffs. Reverberant drums like firecrackers. Slow, epic builds that layer and layer until they explode in climactic, triumphant emotional surges. And Dan Nigro's voice! Christ. A falsetto that cuts through me in the best possible way. One of the truly great voices of his generation. I have a hard time comparing him. The evocative quality of his singing feels unlike any other. Dan singing is experiencing every sadness you've ever felt. Dan singing is being cheated on and break-ups and apologizing and make-ups. Dan singing is lamenting all the love you ever lost and all the love you wished you had.

Feeling sad at music feels so good. I love feeling sad at As Tall As Lions. I love the sorrow "Why We Cry at Movies" makes me feel, and I love how when I share it with other people, it helps them see just a small glimpse of all the feeling I have inside me.

I love this line:

I guess there's no way to make love, not break our hearts

I love that a line so cheesy, when sung earnestly, feels so perfect.

I love their debut album, Lafcadio, so much that I bought it on vinyl when they pressed a limited release back in 2018. I don't own a record player! I don't even know how to use one! I know you put the thing on the thing, and then you put the other thing on the thing and it should work, but that's something I gotta figure out! I bought the record to encourage myself to by a record player and learn how to use it. I can't wait to someday have one in my office so I can listen to Lafcadio in all its analog glory.

I love As Tall As Lions so much I saw them live! Twice!² That's a record for me. I don't like concerts very much. Too loud. Too many people. So many germs! And also I'm kind of a weird purist. I get attached to studio recordings, and, as a result, live versions often feel like a great betrayal. But I saw As Tall As Lions twice, and I fucking loved every second.

I was at Bottom Lounge on April 6, 2010, to see them play with A Lull and Bad Veins. I can still feel A Lull's percussion vibrating in my chest. I can still hear Benjamin Davis of Bad Veins singing through this weird telephone-looking thing to create the tinny, distorted vocals on "Gold & Warm." I can still feel my heart in my throat as I held back tears while Dan Nigro's falsetto cut through me during "Stab City." I wish I could go back there, now that I've learned it's okay to cry.

I was there on December 19, 2010 to see their farewell show at Lincoln Hall. There was no way I was going to let them fade away, never to be heard from again, without having one last memory of seeing them on stage. It was up there with the one time I saw Girl Talk live. An incredible show that (I hope) will live with me forever.

I actually hadn't ever watched that video before I started writing this. Until today, that performance was mere memory. It's funny reliving it. I recall them sounding better in person. There is something to be said for getting swept up in the moment.

Regardless, I was there. You can't see me in that video. I was in the balcony, but I was there. That pervasive melancholy that fills the air? That was me. That was the love I left there.

FOURTEEN FUCKING YEARS AGO.

¹ The third, You Can't Take it With You, is... fine. It's the album a band makes before they break up.⬏

² It was supposed to be three, but I broke up with my girlfriend days before the first concert, and we decided it might be best to give my ticket to someone else. Good call!⬏

 

I asked ChatGPT for "a rustic street scene in Co-op City in the Bronx."

An actual street scene in Co-op City.

I fooled it. Co-op City is in a part of the Bronx that is not old. There's nothing rustic about it. Or even possible.

Before Co-op City became a massive housing project it was an amusement park called FreedomLand.

Sure, it would be some work to sift out what is TikTok and what is ByteDance. Better start the refactor now. From the text of the court filing.