A Playlist for a Short Week

Chill time.

Not sure at this point how productive I’m going to be in the next week. In fact, I think I probably just burned all my productivity points in the two hours I spent trying to fix the ceiling fan in my apartment.

Never lost so many tiny springs in such a short amount of time.

On top of the ceiling fan incident (great band name), uh, you know, it’s Monday, so if you’re like me, you spend the first three hours of your work day trying to shake off the grog and the next five hours chillin.

Chillin.

Nah, I’m totally kidding good folks of IFAS. Seriously gonna bust my ass writing Pulitzer caliber exposes on genetically modified salmon even though you’ve yet to figure out where to put them, and you couldn’t remember my name if I spotted you the AWESOME.

Plus, it’s not like I already told you I wasn’t coming back next semester.

The following, then, is the kind of music to play in your 3×4 cubicle when looking dead in the eyes of a short week and a potentially shorter, should my boss read this, employment stint.

In the words of no one in particular, let’s do this.

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Hell Is Chrome Wilco: On balance, a good weekend. This is the song I was playing when I wasn’t watching the ‘Canes. Hope you appreciate the achingly beautiful solo at 2:50 (i.e. the sound of Jeff Tweedy probing the depths of his soul).

Green Machine The Apples In Stereo: One of those tunes with which I’d usually go all “greatest thing I’ve ever heard!” on you. Got a really nostalgic feel to it and not just because it’s rooted in ’60s pop homage. Dig that fuzzed out guitar jam at 1:15.

Lazy Flies Beck: Beck specializes in “being the effin’ man,” but also, “buoyant folk pop.” This is one of the first songs I learned to play on guitar. Still occasionally bust it out to impress (inebriated) friends.

Devils & Dust Bruce Springsteen: The vast majority of Noughties Boss is remarkably disposable. This is the kind of song that convinces me to sift through all the crap. If the harmonica solo at 4:18 doesn’t raise the hair on your neck, you’re either bald or paralyzed.

Surf’s Up Beach Boys: Brian Wilson’s finest performance. I believe the word we’re looking for is “ethereal.”

Unthought Known Pearl Jam: Because sometimes I just feel like Eddie is singing to me.

The Boy With The Arab Strap Belle & Sebastian: This band was a worldbeater as a sadsack 9-piece hellbent for cheeky wordplay and bedroom twee. They’re still great, but damn, shame they ever cheered up.

Andy’s Chest Lou Reed: One freaky tune from one freaky dude. Love those dry-as-a-bone drum rolls and the ace backing vox. Now excuse me while I (*reaches for bong*)

I Am A Child Neil Young: Wrote this in ’68. Still the coolest man on the planet 42 years later… Would’ve fit nicely on side 1 of “Rust Never Sleeps.”

We Can’t Help You Stephen Malkmus: Proof that SM is just as good when he’s trying. Hard to believe the slacker-rock godhead penned this… Once described (rightfully) by Rolling Stone as Malkmus’ “The Weight.”

A Get Together To Tear It Apart The Hives: A 7 a.m. addendum. Disregard above vibe. Turns out I’m buzzing like a meth addict on ADD. No sleep till Sweden, bitches.

If you’re flying, protect your junk. Happy Monday.

- Robbie