TOP TEN ALBUMS 2013

A nerdy end-of-year tradition I have exclusively kept to myself for at least the past ten years, I have decided that 2013 will be the year in which subject the internet to my self-indulgence. No, I am not referring to summoning the courage to start I've Been Gone a Long Time. I am posting my top ten albums of the year online, just like every other person who writes about music. If I'm going to commit to writing about music I have to do exactly what every other music critic does. My next move: giving a 8.2/10 score to a shitty, unoriginal indie album because I want people to think I'm a worldly intellectual. 

This exercise, in previous years, had consisted of me sitting in my mother's basement, flipping through my CD booklet and ranking my five favorite albums I had acquired that year, regardless of whether or not they were released in that year. Which is sort of why I have kept it to myself all these years; why would anyone care that Kid A is on my 2009 top 5 list of albums  when it was released in 2000? So, in an effort to remain relevant on the internet, I am not including albums I acquired this year not released in 2013 (I will still be composing that list in private). 

So, this is my first blog post as a real music writer. Adhering to the end-of-year-top-albums-code, my first order of business will be to mention how 2013 was a spectacular year in music (it really was!). And even though you didn't expect it, I am also including a list of my three favorite EP's of 2013. Mostly because you deserve a bonus for reading the best-of list from a non-critically acclaimed blogger. Thank you for reading, and please support these musicians. 

TRAVIS REYES'S TOP THREE EP'S OF 2013   
3. Serengeti- Firebird Logo (BARO RECORDS)

More from Geti later, but these three brooding, electronic-tinged tracks were much more enjoyable and diverse than his release Saal from earlier in the year.

2. Touche Amore/Title Fight Split 7" (DEATHWISH, INC.)

Two tracks: each band covering one of the other band's songs (both songs originally being released in 2011). Apologies to every alternative music critic on the internet, but this is the most riveting music Touche Amore released in 2013. 

1. Jeff Rosenstock- Summer (QUOTE UNQUOTE RECORDS)

The most heartfelt, empowering punk tracks you'll find in tandem in 2013. Might inspire you to quit your job and go outside.

TRAVIS REYES'S TOP TEN ALBUMS OF 2013

10. The Front Bottoms- Talon of the Hawk (BAR/NONE RECORDS)

Sunny, indie-punk anthems converging with quirky lyrics and deliberate vocals? It calls to the mind the follow-up to ...Is a Real Boy that Say Anything never properly delivered. If you missed it this year, be ready to be blasting it in your car with the windows rolled down in Summer 2014.

9. Lemuria- The Distance Is So Big (BRIDGE NINE RECORDS)

The sound of a band in their prime. Sheena Ozzella has one of the best voices in all of indie. The vocal harmonies and songwriting are sharper than ever. There is an omnipresent bright/dark mood throughout the album, recalling Weezer's opus Pinkerton.

8. The Dillinger Escape Plan- One Of Us Is the Killer (PARTY SMASHER, INC./SUMERIAN RECORDS)

Dillinger will always be the torch-bearers of the math-metal scene. And as innovators go, they manage to outdo themselves with every release. With this album, you line up for the intensity (When I Lost My Bet), stay for the anger (Crossburner), and keep coming back for the straight-up songwriting (the title track). Buckle up. 

7. Nice Hooves- S/T (BELLYACHE/NO REST UNTIL RUIN)

 

I've found my new favorite noise-punk outlet. The cacophony of shredding guitars, pummeling drums, and tortured vocals call to mind a speedier Every Time I Die while the straight-up grooves conjure Queens of the Stone Age. Bonus: it's available FOR FREE (click the link above)! The bottom line, though: it's a fucking blast.  

6. Vampire Weekend- Modern Vampires of the City (XL RECORDINGS)

2008's biggest indie buzz-band's third full-length took a little time to grow on me, unlike their previous releases. The bounciness comes in spurts, but the real beauty of Modern Vampires comes in the down-tempo, more subtle tracks (Obvious Bicycle, Step, Hannah Hunt), sometimes bordering on Radiohead territory. arzE.

5. The Bronx- S/T (ATO/WHITE DRUGS)

"ARE YOU THE ANTICHRIST OR THE HOLY GHOST?" frontman Matt Caughthran demands on opening cut "The Unholy Hand." The Bronx have always straddled that line, given the "antichrist" is the blistering, hardcore punk of their earlier days and the "holy ghost" is anthemic, Foo Fighters-esque rock n' roll that some of their more recent work has leaned towards. The holy ghost is front and center on this album, and the Bronx are not apologizing. 

4. Serengeti- Kenny Dennis LP (ANTICON RECORDS)

Kenny Dennis loves O'Doul's. He loves the Chicago Bears. He loves his wife Jueles. He hates Shaq, cities not built on a grid, and dry heat. This is a hip-hop album about these things. Also, Serengeti is a musical genius.   

3. Man Man- On Oni Pond (ANTI-)

I have no idea how Man Man continue to up the quality of their songwriting with every album. They still possess the sensibilities to be weird-for-weirdnesses's-sake, but are now able to completely mask that schtick with a veil of great songs. I dare you to not to dance "Pyramids" at your desk chair. 

2. Bars of Gold- Wheels (FRICTION/BELLYACHE)

I cannot begin to categorize this music because I genuinely believe it is some of the most original and inspirational stuff I've ever heard. A step up from 2010's spectacular Of Gold. Sometimes dreamy, sometimes punky, most of the time dancey, always captivating. Frontman Marc Paffi has the best, and gruff-est, yell in music. The percussion is challenging and is the band's secret weapon. I absolutely love this band.

1. Defeater- Letters Home (BRIDGE NINE RECORDS) 

This is not the most original music I've ever heard. It is not the most fun album of year by any stretch. But I've listened to this album more than any other album in 2013. It's a hardcore album about despair. It is relentless yet incredibly dynamic. It finishes like a freight train; it's the only album I can recall that has all my favorite tracks on Side B. I don't give a fuck if you don't like aggressive music; if you don't feel anything after the album closer "Bled Out," you have no pulse.  

2013 TOP 20 MIXTAPE (ANOTHER BONUS)

Again, please check these bands out if you have not yet done so. To wrap up the year 2013 blog style, I will indulge in another music-related year-end list. In conjunction with my favorite albums of the year, I have always made a mixtape with my 20 favorite songs I acquired in that year. A top 20 countdown on New Year's Eve. I will deviate from music writer standards and also include songs that were not released in 2013, but were still new to me. I will send you a burned copy of this upon request. Thank you for reading this humble blog in 2013, and have a safe 2014.

(listed from favorite to 20th favorite) 

1. Serengeti- Dennehy

2. Defeater- Bled Out

3. The Front Bottoms- Twin-Sized Mattress

4. Bars of Gold- Coffee With Pele

5. The Bronx- The Unholy Hand

6. Nice Hooves- Play Jazz

7. Jeff Rosenstock- Go On Get

8. Vampire Weekend- Step

9. Serengeti- I Don't Know

10. The Dillinger Escape Plan- One Of Us Is the Killer

11. The Thermals- The Sunset

12. Kid Dynamite- Heart A Tact

13. John Coltrane- Resolution

14. Lemuria- Oahu, Hawaii

15. Bars of Gold- Blue Lightning 

16. Serengeti- Directions

17. Man Man- Pyramids

18. Single Mothers- Hell (Is My Backup Plan)

19. Defeater- Rabbit Foot

20. The Avett Brothers- Hard Worker

The Allure of The Shining

I could never quite pin down why I enjoy the legendary 1980 "horror" film The Shining so much. I will attempt to rectify this by typing it out on the pages of this blog. If nothing else, this is a cathartic post. 

I will preface my musings with a confession: I am no movie buff. If you are a devoted reader of I've Been Gone a Long Time, perhaps you have already considered this. You reason: He likes music, he likes sports (probably, I don't really read the sports posts), and he loves writing poetically about landscapes. But this still leaves you feeling reasonably unsatisfied. You wonder: Does he have any other interests? I find it hard to believe that a person would only have three interests! Your questions and concerns are about to be addressed...Here is my first post about film!  

Signs of what's to come.

I consider myself an avid enough music fan that I take liberties to write about it in a public forum. This renders myself vulnerable to potential backlash from people that know more about music than I do. I am okay with this because I feel confident enough to defend my opinions. I have immersed myself in music enough so that I feel like a relative authority on the topic. 

The main difference between the topics I have blogged about (music, sports, traveling) and any other topics: I seek them out in my life. I go out of my way to find new music. I read music and sports magazines. I spend time reading recaps of sports games. I spend huge chunks of my weekend driving around, attempting to experience new places and think about their geography. I do not seek out film. 

I am more of a secondary fan of film. My arsenal of film expertise begins and ends with my Introduction to Film 100-level course I took as an undergrad. I enjoy film and definitely critique films socially, as most people who have ever watched a movie do. I am gaining more of an appreciation for it as an all-inclusive art form. However, I exclusively rely on others for information about film. BOLD STATEMENT: If you exclusively rely on others for information regarding a particular thing, you are not a true fan of that thing. You are at most a secondary fan. Possibly even a tertiary fan. I only hear about "coming attractions" that might interest me from other people, or from seeing a preview. I never make the effort to look up what projects certain actors or directors are currently involved in. 

My only argument for actually being a movie buff: imdb.com is saved in the address bar of my internet browser. If I'm curious about an actor or a production, typically happening right after I have watched a movie or a tv show, I will hit up the imdb and indulge my query. It is here that I connect the dots of actors' careers, find out how a film was critically received, how famous actors are (their "star meter," a dangerous rabbit hole to fall into), all that shit.  Imdb is an outlet for me to obtain knowledge and insight regarding something I'm interested in. And there are few things in the world I value and crave more than knowledge and insight. But that is the extent of my Hollywood research.

Yes, I desire to know the backstories and the personalities of the people who create the art I consume. This is why I read music and sports magazines. I follow people who fascinate me on Twitter. I want to know how their brain works, in their own words. On the most basic level, I am fascinated by people and their personalities. It is the only reason I have a psychology degree. I view actors I love through the same lens as the musicians and sports figures I am a fan of; I am interested in them as people. However, the celebrity-gossip culture is something I will always be repulsed by. I have my own life and do not care who famous people are dating or what they ate for breakfast. Yes, some musicians and sports stars are included in these tabloids, but the "stories" mainly revolves around actors and actresses. Which slightly deters me from film in general. But the main reason I cannot be a movie buff?  

Movies are a huge time commitment. I don't like to frequently spend 90-150 minutes at a time in a sedentary state. Also, if I can't give my undivided attention to a movie, I don't see a purpose in watching. There is so much going on in every single frame; it is an all-encompassing experience. So many things to think about. So, I will not be looking up shit online or doing homework or playing with the dog or whatever while I have a movie on. You counter: Hey! What about sports! Aren't games like three hours long? They are, but I don't feel like I have to watch the entire game to experience sports. I can also read a recap and feel satisfied with my knowledge of the game's outcome. I can read about a movie, but I've never heard of anyone carrying on a conversation about a film they read about. The nature of the film medium is what prevents me from immersing myself. But if there's one film I am constantly immersing myself in, it's The Shining. 

Can I help you?

As far as I can tell, The Shining is one of the most well-known movies ever. Every person I ever mention it to seems to have an opinion about it (my mom hates it because it's too "scary."). Halloween night 2008 is when I popped my Shining cherry. SIDE NOTE: I've tried to sneak a viewing in around Halloween time every year since the first time I saw it (in addition to any other times throughout the year I get a hankering for it). That first time, Kate and I caught it on TV in her dorm room. She had seen it before and noted that I'd probably like it. I was transfixed by the suspense and Jack Nicholson's sheer intensity. It seemed like the perfect Halloween night television movie. It made an impression on me. 

That Christmas (or perhaps the following Christmas, my life before The Shining was one big haze) Kate had given me The Shining on DVD. I couldn't say how many times I've watched that DVD since. But I know in that time frame I've watched it more than I've watched any other film. Each time I watch it I get a stronger feeling that there is something beneath the surface that director Stanley Kubrick wants the viewer to have to work to figure out. 

There are so many aspects of this film that absolutely fascinate me. Starting with the intro. The long, narrow, winding road cutting through the pines and the mountains is the perfect metaphor for the film itself. It's long, it's lonely, and it feels like a fucking death march. The score is perfectly sinister. The one car on the road? It's you. You get the feeling like you might be the last person remaining on Earth if you happen to be watching it alone.   

This scene really underscores one of my favorite things about The Shining: the setting. First off, it's 1980. I romanticize everything about that period of time. The loud clothes, people smoking everywhere, the way the cars look, the way people interact with each other, the primitive technology. I feel like my blogging soul belongs in the 80's. If you have been keeping up (even a little) with the pages of I've Been Gone a Long Time you know I love the West and the mountains.  Well, the storyline is that a family is purposely sequestered in a lavish hotel in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado for the winter. A fantasy that speaks directly to my heart. It is mentioned explicitly that Jack Torrance (the caretaker) is to begin his assignment in early October, when the hotel closes for the season. Maybe I'm speaking from recency bias, as I type this on November 4th, but I feel like the crispness of the air, the shortening of days and the constantly overcast skies make for the perfect time of year for ominous things to occur. 

Ironically, my favorite part of the entire movie is actually the beginning. That is, starting the opening credits in the clip above until the very first scene of the Torrances alone in the hotel. It masterfully dictates the suspense and feeling of unease for the entire remainder of the movie. Especially due to the style of filmmaking: extremely long takes/shots.

EDITOR'S NOTE: When I say extremely long takes, I am not trying to come off as a filmmaking snob but trying to communicate just how suspenseful certain shots feel. When I say "shots" I'm referring to each individual image before the camera cuts to a different image or angle. I'd say shots in contemporary film and television last three or four seconds (no empirical evidence). But the shots throughout The Shining sometimes last around a minute. Extremely unnerving and suspenseful, particularly in the context of quick shots we are more accustomed to in more contemporary works.   

In the beginning of The Shining, the viewer is implored to pay close attention. Every moment feels vital; if you blink you're going to miss something important. Maybe I'm describing what most "beginnings" of movies set out to do. What I'm trying to say is that the beginning of The Shining is better than the beginning of any other movie. As I've watched and re-watched it, I find myself anticipating the beginning more than anything else. Each time I seek out subtle clues about strange, seemingly unexplainable occurrences later on in the film. The Shining is a dissertation in ambiguity. 

The ambiguity is what keeps most people coming back for more and more. Some examples: the frequent visions Danny has of the two little girls and of oceans of blood spilling out from the elevators... 

...Jack endlessly typing "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy"...The strange symbolism and significance of the hedge maze...Jack maddeningly throwing a tennis ball against the giant walls of the hotel...The woman inside Room 237...Danny riding his trike around the hotel accompanied by strange camera work...The presence and strange connection of Dick Hallorann...The cryptic flashback scene in the ballroom...Jack drinking bourbon at the bar...I could go on. As far as ambiguous, mystifying things that I always come back for, I do have a personal favorite. At the very end of the film, the camera slowly zooms in on an old photo from a ballroom event at the hotel. The camera eventually stops on Jack, who is in the middle of the photo surrounded by other party-people. Note the script:

 

1921. The movie takes place in the present (1980). I have never quite been able to figure out exactly what it means. During the ballroom flashback scene, Jack talks to "Grady," the supposed former caretaker who killed his family during his winter at the Overlook. Grady tells Jack that's he's always been at the hotel, that he (Jack) has always been the caretaker. This might explain why he was able to obtain his vice, alcohol, at the hotel bar when it had been said that the hotel disposes of all its liquor for the winter. But why was he hired by the hotel in the present? If he hasn't physically been there, has his "spirit" always been there? Is the above photo of spirits? My guess is that he has become a part of the hotel, and that the hotel has its own sort of "power" that it exercises to obtain more "spirits." And when anything threatens to stand in its way, as in when Danny uses his "shining" power to get Dick Hallorann to return to the hotel to save them, the hotel fights back. This is what I believe is occurring when Wendy is running away from Jack, wielding a knife, near the end of the film. She is starting to glimpse the parts of the hotel's past and if Jack is "successful in his duty" she will become part of the hotel too: (the "weirdest scene," according to Youtube, my social barometer)

The actors obviously play a crucial role in the overall tone of the film. Danny Lloyd, the child actor, shines (no pun intended) as dark, disturbed boy. Wendy, played by Shelley Duvall, is laughably overdramatic at times but certainly nails the part of subservient wife. As a whole, the film's aura is carried by Jack Nicholson's biting psychosis. But for me, what really makes Jack Torrance's downward spiral so real and alarming is the presence of Scatman Crothers, who plays the hotel's cook, Dick Hallorann. He is the antithesis of Jack; sunny and good-humored. He's long in the tooth and radiates sage wisdom. He is the only character in the entire movie that feels genuine and stable. The viewer just feels safe when he's on screen. This speaks to both Scatman's exceptional performance and Kubrick's expert portrayal of him. Or maybe I just am partial to him because his name is fucking Scatman.

On a lighter and more subjective note, another irresistible quality about The Shining to me is the way the characters interact with one another. I have always been completely amused and entertained by it. I typically despise light, thoughtless dialogue, which is exactly what The Shining brings to the table. But it's executed so deliberately and carefully that it enhances my enjoyment of the film immensely. It perfectly mirrors the early 80's, vaguely grainy yet simultaneously freewheeling aesthetic that I adore so much. In particular, the scene in which the family of three is driving up to the Overlook for the first time (I couldn't find a reference clip, but hopefully a photo will suffice): 

In this scene Jack is his typical curmudgeonly self for no apparent reason. His young son is pronouncing words weirdly and talking about how he knows about cannibalism. All gift-wrapped in one marathon take. I can never stop laughing. 

Speaking of laughter, the ways that The Shining gets me to laugh are truly unprecedented. I think my laughter is really just of the awestruck variety. I am in awe with just how perfectly suspenseful, both pace-wise and visually, everything in the movie is. I often catch myself laughing as Dick Hallorann walks slowly through the main hallway, in an attempt to save the family from Jack's rampage, shouting "HELLO? IS ANYBODY HERE?" I laugh when Danny is repeating "redrum! redrum! redrum!" as his voice gets higher and more cartoonish. These are pivotal horror and suspense set-ups, and I'm laughing. But I never feel like the suspense is compromised from my laughter. I'm laughing because it's fucking perfect.

With all of my intrigue being indulged, there are two things that have slightly blunted my undying fascination with The Shining: my reading of The Shining (as in, the Stephen King novel on which the film is based) and my watching of the film Room 237. The book, which I read around two years ago, is absolutely fantastic and gives a much lengthier backstory (the film is based on the book) to the character of Jack Torrance and his motives. It also, to my secret chagrin, explains a lot of the seemingly unexplainable quirks about the movie. I suppose some stones are better left unturned. Of course, when you come across a stone, the first thing you want to do is turn it over. 

The film Room 237 was released last year and I watched it a month ago. It is a riveting documentary film study on potential "hidden meanings" in The Shining. It is particularly nerdy and weird. But for anyone that considers themselves kind of a huge fan of The Shining, it is a must-watch. I feel like it almost 100% explains the unease and I've felt about something lying beneath the surface with the film for the last five years (it is a metaphor for the Native American genocide, it displays Kubrick's guilt for faking the 1969 American moon landing). Room 237 sort of comforted me in that it validates my strange feelings about the movie's undertones. But it also sort of feels like the my fascination party is over, like there's nothing left to guess about. I dare you to watch the entire Room 237 feature embedded in my blog (ignore the subtitles if you choose):

Kate and I had our Halloween-season viewing of The Shining on October 30th and I still enjoyed it immensely. Admittedly though, I was not as mystified as I once was. But Kate seemed more intrigued than usual... 

This post is to advise you to watch The Shining. Watch it again if you already have. Alone if you dare. Pay attention to the little things. Allow yourself to be amused by the way characters interact with each other. Make up conspiracy theories and track hidden messages. Because when the movie ends, your guess is as good as mine. 

0:07

The title of this post refers to "seven seconds." Not "double-o-seven." GoldenEye. 

I had such an incredible time writing about my ten favorite band names that I have returned, two weeks later, to list ten more musical things I enjoy. 

My top 10 seven-second album intros! 

This does not mean that each one of these selections is a strict, seven-second long intro. No sir. I am just ranking the first seven seconds of albums. What the hell kind of sample size is seven seconds, you ask? As always, I will not offer empirical evidence. Only speculation. But upon my further investigation, it is quite a riveting block of time. I believe that seven seconds is the threshold for committing to something. Think about it. If you think about seven seconds for seven seconds, you'll realize that you're engrossed in thought. Five seconds is a noncommittal flash-in-the-pan when it comes to pondering. But seven seconds can breed an idea. At five seconds you're still mentally processing. At ten seconds you're often neck-deep in an idea. But seven seconds? The minimum spacing-out threshold. 

MORE EXAMPLES: I feel like I look at myself in the mirror for seven seconds, after everything is taken care of and sexily groomed. I have no idea how long other humans spend doing this. But for the purposes of this discussion, I am assuming I possess an average amount of vanity (a laughable underestimate). Next: after turning on your car, how long does it take before you put the car in motion? Buckle your seatbelt, quick glance at yourself in the rearview mirror (mirrors are a recurring seven-second theme), check your mirrors for traffic, and boom. Seven seconds. Seven seconds is the amount of time you are allowed to laugh about something before it becomes maniacal. During a marriage proposal, seven seconds equals the appropriate shock-value grace period between the "Will you marry me?" and the response. Anything past seven seconds means the proposer is panicking. Seven seconds seems like the amount of time it takes to make my breakfast in the morning (cereal). Seven consecutive seconds of smiling indicates that you're extremely happy about something (like when you notice a new I've Been Gone a Long Time post). Experiencing anything for seven seconds is just enough time to form an opinion about it. Most importantly, seven seconds is all you need to be hooked on an album.

Tasteful portrait of sevens.

Much like the topic of best band names, the topic of albums with the best intros has been something I have considered abstractly in my brain from time to time. It most frequently crosses my mind when I hear a killer album intro, I've found out. However, unlike the best band names discussion, I'm not sure "albums with the best seven second intros" is a oft-debated topic among music fans. 

PRO TIP: Read the following paragraph in the most snide, hipster tone you can imagine: 

I don't think most people listen to albums. Young music fans live for radio singles, itunes shuffle, and free mediafire downloads. No value is placed in the album as a whole. I am opining that music and singular songs cannot be appreciated fully until experienced within the context of the album it originates from. Musicians release albums, not individual, isolated songs. Whether this is caused by a "that's the way it's always been," type of tradition-ridden culture, or because the sole way for a musician to express themselves is through a collection of songs, I will stand by tradition (for once!!). Whoever dictated/suggested the album format knew a thing or two about the artistic experience. 

Now that the album argument is off my chest, it is time to explore the magic of the very first seven seconds of an album. The purpose of this list is almost decidedly anti-album, in that the first seven seconds are all about the hook. I ranted about how albums should be experienced as a whole. Now I'm waxing poetically about seven seconds? Yes, it is hypocritical. But the bottom line is that this is fucking fun to think about. Think of the previous paragraph as more of a disclaimer for this blog post. A killer album intro is much like a great band name. It is a bonus stroke of artistic genius. Icing on the cake. 

PERSONAL ANECDOTE: When I'm driving around in my car, I'm listening to CD's. When a CD is over, my car stereo automatically loops back to the beginning. My personal policy is to then remove the CD and put a new one in, affording me ample opportunities to enjoy the many different facets of my CD collection. I am a stickler about it and it's weird. But sometimes, I don't eject the CD right after it ends. And I hear those first seven seconds. And sometimes I let it play out a little longer because those first seven seconds were so exhilarating. And I want to listen to the whole album all over again (alas, I always restrain myself). The reason for this blog post is to honor and pay homage to those moments. The best seven-second hooks. My specifically seven-second rationale: please see the above paragraph beginning with "MORE EXAMPLES." Also, five seconds doesn't give an intro quite enough time to develop. Ten seconds feels like an eternity and like you're already a full-fledged listener of the album. But seven seconds in? Well, that's all you need to experience the most important part of the album. 

The official mantra of this post. 

As with any of my blog lists, I will outline my personal criteria: a goosebump-inducing seven second experience that embodies the entire album, builds suspense, and absolutely implores you to listen to the album all the way through. And again, these are only songs that I own personally. Readership, if you have given this topic ample thought (I'm sure you have), throw out some suggestions to me. I want to know all the best album hooks in the world. 

SIDE NOTE: After compiling the list, I noticed that only one of these seven-second cuts contains vocals. This happened organically; a vocal ban was not explicitly administered in my criteria. Letting seven seconds pass before incorporating your vocals accentuates them and makes your music more dynamic, most of the time. 

So I encourage you to give the following ten intros a shot; if nothing else, pause it at the seven-second mark to humor me. Cumulatively, it will only take seventy seconds of your time. But I'll wager that you'll be sticking around for more. Suspense will have been built and you'll be google-searching the entire album before the song ends.  

P.S. if you're not ready to rock, please respectfully close this tab. 

(I will list the band and the album name. As, essentially, this list is an ode to the album format. Also I apologize if there is any sort of youtube-related delay. Or advertising. First seven seconds of sound.)

10. The Dillinger Escape Plan- One Of Us Is the Killer

Mind-warping, time-signature slaying destruction. This is hxc, so make sure you're not in a library. Or do, if you want to scare librarians in time for Halloween 2013. Good luck figuring out how to headbang. 

9. Tom Waits- Swordfishtrombones 
Mischievous, ominous trombones over a singular percussion roll? Check. Best enjoyed with a glass of bourbon.

   (Also, this fucking video........)

8. The Hold Steady- Stay Positive 

How does one possibly resist the invincible riffing that precedes the best song ever written about getting drunk on top of water towers? 

7. Bars of Gold- Of Gold 

FULL DISCLOSURE: This is the intro that got me thinking about this list, in my car, about a week ago. Ugly, loud strings expertly crafting a suspenseful aura.  

6. Weezer- Pinkerton 
Dissonant, chill-inducing guitar squealing. Sets the tone sinisterly for one of the greatest albums of all time. A million times more raw and emotional than any other Weezer album. 

5. The Menzingers- On the Impossible Past

The only seven seconds where vocals matter most. Along with the lightly strummed guitar, these seven seconds are the perfect microcosm of an extremely heartfelt, blue-collar album (and one of my all-time faves).

4. The Bronx- S/T 
S/T means self-titled. A deceptively quiet and sleazy riff. By the time you've finished turning the volume up to compensate for the seemingly muffled recording quality, you are blasted in the face with punk fury. Good luck. 

3. Crime in Stereo- Is Dead 
DRUMS.

2. None More Black- Loud About Loathing EP
The lone EP representative on this list, I am extremely excited to be able to rep None More Black for the first time on the pages of this blog. If this song doesn't get your fist pumping and your pint glass swinging back and forth in the air, nothing will. There is not a better album-opening riff known to mankind. 

1. blink-182- Dude Ranch 
I have never been able to find anything that tops this. I acquired this album the summer after 8th grade. I bought it used at an FYE. I remember popping it into my portable CD player on the car ride home and immediately thinking "WHOA!" No other album, to my knowledge, starts off as full-throttle and unrelenting. Not even a count-off. All instruments playing the chorus immediately. It will never get old. 

I hope those were the best seventy seconds of your life. Thank you for reading these words .  

Wanderlust IV

Complimentary catch-up links: I, II, & III.  

The preceding italics are links to the previous chronicles of Road Trip 2011. In case you don't trust links I offer on this blog. I suppose I understand what you're thinking:

This is a blog that incessantly provides links to previous blog posts. This is most likely a tool to drive the view counts of each post up. How shameless and self-promotional of the blogger. Also, I now have a million tabs loaded onto my browser and it feels cluttered. X-ing out of I've Been Gone a Long Time. 

Valid, sobering points. But I refuse to assume that everyone reading this post has already pored over each chapter of the Wanderlust chronicles carefully. The method to my self-aggrandzing madness. 

Despite this tongue-in-cheek self-deprecation act, I really just needed an excuse to mention my blog's view count. I've Been Gone a Long Time hit a flattering view count milestone the other day and I wanted to sincerely thank you, readership. Couldn't have gotten the views without you. I appreciate you clicking on my blog, even if you're just scrolling down and mocking my pictures. And to anyone that has directed someone else to these pages, I am deeply indebted to you and am dedicating this post to you informally. To all my readership, I appreciate your time and hope you at least mildly enjoy these posts. Cuz it is certainly a hoot writing them. 
  
With that being said, we resume in western Nebraska. I mentioned the strength of the winds we felt that morning. It turns out, per the Historical Atlas of the American West, that the western part of Great Plains region is among the most consistently windy places in the world. SCIENCE LESSON: Basically, the winds blow off the Rockies from the west and there is no vertical relief in its path to slow it down.The average wind speed of Kimball, Nebraska, the town we stepped outside to on that day, is around 12mph. Doesn't sound very significant. But think about it. At any given time, winds are blowing at 12mph. Extreme gusts are both frequent enough and strong enough to drive the wind speed average up to 12mph, at any given moment throughout the year. So, hold on to your hats. 

It was an incredibly gorgeous morning as we peeled out of the Super 8's dirt parking lot back onto I-80 West. We shortly hit the Wyoming state line and our Western suspicions were officially confirmed: 

The first sign with cowboy imagery! Along this stretch I also captured one of my favorite shots in all of Road Trip 2011, a colorful Union Pacific train chugging alongside the interstate and into the West:  

As that train passed by it was like I could smell the greatness in the air. And shortly after that, we got our formal introduction to the West courtesy of the landscape. We curved around a bend and there it was: our first glimpse of the Rockies!!!!

(with the help of the windshield/windshield wipers)

That moment is a lucid memory. I almost felt dazed. We were one with Lewis & Clark; we were Kate & Travis. We had grown up on the East Coast and had never seen a real, geological masterpiece like a legitimate mountain range (sorry Appalachians). It had taken almost twenty-two years to be among them. And I knew that I never wanted to let them go. 

We made our first stop at a Laramie, WY Sonic for lunch. Please recall that the previous day's lunch was in Omaha, NE and it was about 102 degrees. In Laramie, it would be a stretch to say it was 60 degrees. Also, the winds had strengthened since Kimball. The town gave off the distinctive "college town" aura and seemed charming enough, but frankly, it was a straight-up 50 degree drop in temperature from the previous day's lunch. And did I mention it was ridiculously windy? We rolled out of Laramie pretty quickly.     

But we could not escape the wind. Driving down the interstate in east/central Wyoming consisted of Kate white-knuckling the steering wheel to prevent the winds from blowing the Nissan Sentra into a ditch. It was a challenge. The old-school Nintendo Boss-Level equivalent of highway driving. But we managed. All the while, the elevation was rising. We were driving into the heavens. We soon found ourselves on a mountain pass that, mercifully, had a rest area. We pulled in and got out of the vehicle to recuperate. 

I will reiterate that it was a crystal-clear, beautiful day. The winds I experienced at that rest stop were stronger than any non-hurricane-condition winds I had ever experienced in my life. And they were constant. Unrelenting. I had to use significant leg strength to stand up straight. Kate fled for her life almost immediately and got back into the car. I stayed outside a little longer to feel the PUNISHMENT. An official acknowledgement of the conditions:

Elk Mountain, from the rest stop grounds. 

A mind-altering experience.

SIDE NOTE: We saw another young couple with a New Jersey license plate at that rest stop. We hypothesized that they were on the same journey: post-graduation road trip from coast-to-coast. I wanted to talk to them and bond over the preposterous Rocky Mountain winds but shyness got the best of me. I have always regretted this. MESSAGE: if you were at the Wagonhound Rest Area around June 8th, 2011, and are a young couple from New Jersey, please contact me. I want to apologize and befriend you and talk about road trips.     

The wind was never as much of an issue after we conquered that particular mountain pass.  Our drive through Wyoming continued at high elevation with rocky (not Rocky)/dirt colored peaks in the distance, with the high plains dotted in green shrubs in the foreground. It doesn't sound like much excitement, but I was transfixed all the while. We were in the West and it was never getting old. Also, Wyoming is the least populated state in the country. So that meant few exits and even fewer signs of civilization. There was a ranch here and there, but zero farms. Meandering cows sometimes in the distance. A couple of frolicking deer in a shrub-filled meadow. But other than that, it was just us and the Frontier. 

It seems like the Wyoming DOT tries to maintain your driving focus by peppering signs throughout the state advertising "Little America," which is located in the far western part of the state. However, the signs never really let you know what Little America is. My best guess was that we would drive by a mildly-amusing-looking patriotic-themed amusement park. It turned out to be an extremely ho-hum (relative to the sheer quantity of advertising) rest stop. Wyoming 1, travelers 0.   

By late afternoon/early evening we had crossed into Utah. I still wager that every state has a unique landscape, no matter how slight the differences may be. The first thing I noticed about Utah was a distinct redness to the dirt and rocks. The trains chugging alongside the interstate became much more immediate and the road itself was much more winding. Snow-capped mountain peaks were also very close in proximity to the road as opposed to appearing far off in the distance. The sun descending in the sky made it all that much more spectacular. 

I swear it looked reddish (not radish).

Snow-capped.

The sunset quickly became dusk and we were coasting through the winding highways of Salt Lake City, navigating the many lanes of the I-80 & I-15 interchange. At this point, the plan was to stop off somewhere in downtown SLC, grab some dinner and find a place to lodge, given we had already covered some pretty solid distance on that day. But before we could blink, Salt Lake City was in our rearview mirror. The constant lane changes that come with interchanges had did us in. Focusing our energy on staying with I-80 had prevented us from exiting the highway. So we did what we could, exited at the actual Great Salt Lake, a few miles west of the city. 

This wasn't a total loss for me, as I have always been intrigued by the Great Salt Lake. So I suggested that we go down to the waterfront and scope it out. It was quiet and deserted where we parked, on a side road adjacent to the beach. And when I say beach I mean large dirt area bordering the Salt Lake. And when I say deserted I mean aside from the one million mosquitoes. 

The Great Salt Lake "Beach," w/ lonely cigarette butt.

Not pictured: 1,000,000 mosquitoes. Me trying to morph into a mosquito's worst nightmare and failing.

And when I say one million mosquitoes I mean one trillion mosquitoes. I don't mean to sit here and whine about mosquitoes like every other fucking human being. I am trying to paint a picture. My best summary is: I didn't even know this many mosquitoes existed on Earth. Kate and I couldn't stand still enough to snap a cute picture together alongside the lake because we were too busy fending mosquitoes off. After I snapped the shot above, both my camera and any of my exposed skin were promptly swarmed by mosquitoes.

In this moment on the shores of the Great Salt Lake, I believe Kate and I encountered the mosquito perfect storm. It was a not only a lake, but a salt lake. Not only a very shallow standing body of water, but a tasty salt version, which probably these miniature flying vampires of the sweaty human skin they love to feed on. It was early/mid June, which seems like mosquito primetime to me. It was dusk. There were no other human options around. They probably knew we were tourists. Needless to say, our tour of the Great Salt Lake shoreline was abbreviated.  

We quickly hopped back into the car and made our way back to the frontage road (note: all the lights in the above photo). We still hadn't had any dinner; a secluded Del Taco ended up  being the destination. Advice to future blogging self: don't go back to Del Taco. But it got the job done. The only problem was that we had seemed to bypass all the Salt Lake City area hotels. 

No matter, I told Kate. Our road map, a 2009-edition "American Map," (I WILL NEVER OWN A GPS) which had served us admirably up to that point, showed a few more exits and a few small towns  on our route until a vast, 50 mile stretch of the "Great Salt Lake Desert," in which there were no exits or towns until the Nevada border. It's fine, I insisted. No way do we have to go back into Salt Lake City to find a hotel. The only rule of this road trip, I decreed in that moment, was no backtracking. So we soldiered on in search of lodging. 

First town/exit up, according to our Utah map, was Rowley. Please follow that link. Yeah. There was a gas station immediately off the exit, and then a dirt road leading into darkness. We got back on the highway. Next up on the map was Delle. I swear I remember seeing signage for a hotel off of that exit, but when we neared the off-ramp, there was nothing but darkness as far as we could see. We stayed on the highway. Our last hope was Knolls. I remember seeing the exit for Knolls. There was no "Knolls 1 mile" or "Knolls 1/2 mile" warning signs. Just one "Knolls" and an arrow pointing in the direction of the off-ramp. What did that one look like, you ask? Complete darkness. 

By then it was about 12:30am local time. We had already driven about 600 miles total on the day. There was a "rest area" shortly after "Knolls" in which you could presumably pull into a parking spot and "rest." In the pitch-blackness of the Great Salt Lake Desert. We figured we probably wouldn't be getting any "rest" since we'd be "fearing" for our "lives." So we coasted onward.  Next exit? Wendover, about 50 miles away. 

For those 50 miles, the road was a perfectly straight line. I didn't even need my hands on the wheel. The Great Salt Lake Desert was to our right. We could see the moon reflected on the desert floor. It was the strangest thing; it seemed like we were driving alongside the ocean. It felt like this would be an appropriate area for UFO's to land, or at least for secret government operations to take place. We were tired and a little cranky, but it was amazing. We felt alive. Despite the lack of exits, I was noticing a lot of cross-highway turn-around spots. As in, you could stop and take a left onto the other side of the interstate if you needed to.

About 45 minutes later, we hit the Nevada state line in Wendover and checked into the first hotel we saw. I also made a vow: we would wake up early and drive back east for a little, through a part of the desert. We would utilize one of the turn-around spots to head back west. I had to see the Great Salt Lake Desert in daylight. 

Listening...