Mid-'90s "hardcore" (read: "rock") band Painted Thin has recently become one of my new old favorites. At times sounding like the pop-punk bands that defined the Fat Wreck scene, and other times sounding like the early '00s Promise Ring set*, these guys had a couple of pretty solid, peppy albums. And by the way, do you like The Weakerthans? This band had most of them. Whoa!
There's nothing fancy or mind-blowing here, but man, "I Hold My Breath" (track 4) and "These Unremarkable First Ten Years of Life" (track 7) are such sweet '90s boil-overs. Really, the middle of this album, say tracks 4 to 8 or so, are just one great song after another. Short, under-produced, crackle-voiced and off-key, super-emotive exploratory pop songs for the 35 year-old nostalgia set. Just hook it to my fuckin' veins!
This band is a good personal reminder of why I never delete music. I've had one of their albums on my computer for, what, 10 years? Never really gave it much of a thought until a shuffle adventure brought them to my attention. Now I can't get enough. Nicely timed after a nostalgic Weakerthans love affair some months ago, too.
*So what if my knowledge of music pretty much covers only the outcasts of the 1994-2003 era?
While he was in The Weakerthans, John K. Samson initiated a series of songs, loosely organized around a cat named "Virtute" (that's pronounced "wihr-Too-tay" for you non-Latin-philes.) Framed around Virtute's relationship with her owner, Virtute became a symbolic foil for adulthood, for struggle and motivation, and ultimately, for depression and alcoholism.
The first song song finds Virtute encouraging her owner to get up and out, to have a party and small talk with neighbors, rather than just sit around, watching TV and drinking like he typically does. She'll "cater with all the birds that I can kill." The owner will start to believe he's strong ("lick the sorrow from your skin"), in this imaginary party world, if only he can get up and do it. Virtute is this sad man's champion. I know you can do it, bud, "I know you're strong." It's just deep down in there. C'mon bud, you're great.
In the second song, we get a tone change. Virtute gets lost, she and her owner are unable to find one another, and she ends up living on the street, left remembering her time with her owner. Virtute adores her owner, but can only do this from afar now. John writes his most heartbreaking phrase, where Virtute misses her owner, but "can't remember the sound that you found for me." She forgot her own name! This song brings me to tears every time.
Of course, there's more to it than that--Samson doesn't write songs at a surface level only. Virtute comes to represent the will and the motivation of a person in the midst of struggle - that internal, reassuring voice - but has become so far removed that she can only reflect detached and longingly. The motivation and goodness of life itself has become so far removed from this person that it has become achingly unfamiliar.
This brings us to song number 3, just released last week on Sampson's excellent new "solo" album.
Virtute, now but a loving, supportive memory of this person who has struggled, but ultimately pulled it together. Ever the friend, ever the champion, Virtute offers one last nod of support. You did it, friend; now you can relax and enjoy yourself, because we will always support each other, together or not. We should all be so lucky.
Now that the treatment and antidepressants and seven months sober have built me a bed in the back of your brain Where the memories flicker and i paw at the synapses bright bits of string You should know i am with you Know i forgive you Know i am proud of the steps you have made Know it will never be easy or simple Know i will dig in my claws when you stray So let us rest here like we used to in a line of late afternoon sun Let it rest All you can't change Let it rest and be done
