A Non-exhaustive List of Moments in Music That Give Me Chills
I hope you listen to music that gives you chills. I hope you listen to music actively, not passively. I hope you listen to music that sticks with you for your entire life. I hope you listen to music obsessively and discover something new every time. I hope you listen to music that makes you feel part of something cool and realer than real. I hope you listen to music for the reasons that you can’t go without it. I hope you listen to music that connects you in a long winding line to the person who you used to be. I hope you love a song so much but you can’t bear to listen to it anymore because you loved the person who showed it to you so much and now they aren’t in your life anymore. I hope you listen to music that you consider to be, unapologetically, better than the rest of the dreck on the radio. I hope you listen to music that reveals worlds to you. I hope you listen to music on long drives through country where the light is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before, and I hope you picked some good songs because that light will be tied with them forever no matter what. I hope you listen to music that you hope, stubbornly, irrationally, that a certain someone out there is also listening to. I hope you listen to music with intention, with purpose, with meaning, invested with all the constituent parts of you, even, or especially, with the parts that you never share. I hope you listen to music that animates you. I hope you listen to music coming from a street musician who no one else is listening to. I hope you listen to music on home-burned CDs. I hope you have and will burn a CD for someone, and then take the time to handwrite all the song titles and artist names in the proper order, and take special care with the font lines and kerning and ink choice for the person’s name who you are making it for. I hope you listen to live music at a local bar or punk-house or coffeeshop or skatepark or meadow or barn or bookshop or under a bridge and then afterwards take the time to thank the band and buy one of their albums and carry it with you like a talisman around your neck and tell everyone you meet about this great music that no one has heard of. I hope you listen to music seriously, and treat it like the thing that it is — no one word can summate its promise: a doorway a portal a tunnel a mineshaft a staircase a ladder a cellar a basement a passageway an alleyway a gateway into a small, desperate, absurd kind of salvation — to be transported somewhere other than here, to give breath to the life, color to the wind, tingles to the taste, and make you feel like everything will be okay and nothing will ever be okay again at one and the same moment, to remind you that things did mean something once, to grab ahold of you and shake you with all the violence and tenderness there is in the world and say “Listen! This is what it felt like! Don’t you remember? Don’t you?”
I hope that for you. Truly.
So anyway, I made a list of moments in music that give me chills. If there are some trends that are revealed by this list, this is what I notice: Shifts in rhythm, either with an actual time signature or with the mere addition or subtraction of percussion, give me chills. Poignant lyrics, well structured, give me chills. Shifts to minor chords, with some dissonance thrown in, give me chills. The opening notes of songs that I love give me chills because I know what’s coming. Many other things on this list are less classifiable, they just are. I should note here that just because a musical moment gives me chills doesn’t necessarily mean that songs which don’t give me chills have any less value. My favorite band of all time, The Band, does not give me chills very often. But they are no less impressive for it.
I have bolded the song titles and artist names below, and where possible I have provided links to the songs (Spotify and Youtube and Bandcamp do not, in fact, have all of the music that exists, people, so go out there and bootleg stuff or visit your local record store). If nothing else you can take this as a list of song recommendations, or an excuse to go back and listen to these songs and see if they have the same effect on you. (There’s a lot of The National on this list, sorry about it.) I’ve also made a Spotify playlist to peruse here, but like I said it doesn’t have all of the songs on there. There’s a lot of links in this email, so if it looks like it has maxed out and cut off prematurely then just click on through to the Weird Catastrophe homepage to view the full post.
In no particular order:
The muted, far-away sounds of the opening piano chords on Lawrence Winters’ operatic rendition of the negro spiritual “I Couldn’t Hear Nobody Pray,” and also the minor sounding horn and string accompaniment that begins at 0:39 seconds.
The “oohoohoohs” on “Boy You Loved To Watch Me Cry” by Madeline Adams.
The lyric and the desultory vocal delivery by Clyde Petersen of “so pardon my yearnings, they hit without warning” at 1:50 of “In The Life” by Your Heart Breaks.
The “oooh”s leading into the rocking choruses of “Seventeen” by Sjowgren.
Basically the entirety of “Dissect the Bird (Live)” by John Craigie because of how palpably his lyrics hit the crowd.
The pre-choruses of “You’re So Vain,” by Carly Simon — “…and all the girls dreamed that…” etc.
The opening piano chords and string strains on “Velodrome” by Dessa, swelling into “I don’t believe my will’s quite free…”
The choruses of “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” — “Once I built a railroad, made it run…” I can’t find a version of this song that gives it the proper drama, melancholy, and, critically, the rage that it deserves. Al Jolson’s rendition is over-sung in his typical fashion. Bing Crosby’s and Rudy Valee’s versions are too jaunty for my taste. The ideal of this song exists only in my head.
When the first piano bass note sounds with the first chorus of “Be Home Soon” by Free Cake For Every Creature at 0:57 seconds and carries me back to riding the train in Boston with a Bostonian girl.
The swirling, circling electric guitar picking on the chorus of “Around You” by Free Cake For Every Creature.
The arpeggiated mandolin chords on the chorus of “Winter’s Lament” by St. Cinder.
The lyric “I am California, can’t you see?, wherever you roam, you’ll always want me” from “I Am California” by John Craigie.
The song-length mantra that is “Still Talk (Acoustic)” which closes the album Six Twilights by Six Twilights, a project fronted by Aaron Gerber of the seemingly defunct Portland-based outfit A Weather. I can’t seem to find a playable version of this song anywhere online. There is a Spotify listing for the album, but it’s not playable for some reason. I have the CD, which also came with a DVD short film accompanying it, so if anyone wants the song file then hit me up. Alternatively, my friend Lindee and I covered it here.
The lyric “They dressed me up in catcalls for the ball…” in “Wild One” by Lauren Tannenbaum from The Book Shop Demo album. Apparently this version is not available online (I got the CD — signed and given a lipstick kiss mark — at her show at Linnaea’s Cafe), so if you want a copy just hit me up and I can send a file, but also here’s Tannenbaum’s Spotify page, and also she was kind enough to provide the voiceover narration for a poem that I wrote here.
When Josh Ritter, after breathlessly slagging off conservative Christianity for two and a half minutes, comes to the climax and sings “If you want to see a miracle watch me get down…” on his song “Getting Ready To Get Down”.
When the guitar strums harder again after he sings “…then at last we’d see each other in the way that we had dreamed to be seen.” on “Phoenix” by Slaughter Beach, Dog.
The opening electric piano chords of “Fire” by Waxahatchee because who knew you could feel so much in three minutes and thirty-seven seconds?
The fiddle solo on “Dried Roses” by Big Thief.
The perfect crescendo of electric guitar and piano and drums on the final buildup of “Whole Wide World” by Big Tree.
The lyric “I closed my eyes, saw your face, looked around, you were no place” on “Day to Day (For 6 Days a Week)” by L.A. Salami.
The lyric “makes me wonder why we rebels make a holiday of every single meal” from “Punx Win! (Cover of Mischief Brew)” by Pigeon Pit.
The chorus into the electric guitar riff on “Shatter” by Carissa Johnson and the Cure Alls.
The transition into the different rhythm starting at 1:58 of “We’re Not Alone” by Dinosaur Jr.
The chorus lyric “there’s something strange inside me, digging holes with housekeys…” leading into the whirling far away melody right after on “-h-o-u-s-e-k-e-y-z-” by Field Medic.
The bridge of Ray Lamontagne’s heartbreaking “Like Rock & Roll and Radio” at 3:15 — “All these white lights…”.
The chorus chords and melody for “Dear Emmi” by Kat Devlin and The White Whale.
The achingly beautiful close harmonies on the choruses of “Birmingham” by Shovels & Rope.
The slight key change into the chorus for “The Rubberband Man” by The Spinners.
The lyric “and in the light of morning, remember, it never would have worked out…” from “Anyway” by Swearin’.
The fiddle interludes from “The Blackest Crow” by The Show Ponies.
The lovely chord and strum pattern shift that first happens at 2:00 of “This Wind” by The Tallest Man On Earth.
The entire emotional song-length crescendo of “2007, the Year Punk Broke (My Heart)” by Los Campesinos!
When the swirling electric guitars kick back in on “Consequence” by The Notwist at 3:32 — “leave me paralyzed, love”.
The high repeating eighth notes that start ringing at 1:48 on “Boneless” by The Notwist.
When the synth chords lay beneath the distorted ringing synth sound at 1:55 of “Frequency” by Sylvan Esso.
The opening guitar and organ strains as Nathaniel Rateliff sings “For a moment I could wait, to see it fall apart…” on “Time Stands”.
The start of the final lines of “Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl” by Broken Social Scene — “Park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me…” at 2:06.
When the whole band kicks back in with the vocals at 2:16 of “Cutting My Finger’s Off” by Turnover.
When the drummer starts using the tom heads in the outro guitar solo at 2:23 of “Tugboat” by Galaxie 500.
The lyric “…don’t it always seem to go that you could hold it right in your hand, collapse, and still not know…” on “Cadmium” by Pinegrove.
The lyric “a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light…” on “Samson” by Regina Spektor.
The unexpected reedy vocal hum in tandem with the fiddle and accordion, seeming to contain within it literally all things that have ever existed and cracks open the sky, during the last chorus of “Bluebird” by Langhorne Slim at 1:36.
The crying lament choruses of “There Will Be Nights When I’m Lonely” by Possessed By Paul James — “please, oh please, know that I will always love you…”
Every time the bass line kicks in and interacts with the preceding percussive guitar part, but especially after the lengthy interlude that leads into the lyric “you weren’t just the girl that I should meet, you were the girl that I would meet…” at 3:43 of “Julep” by Punch Brothers.
The (hard to identify) shell-like percussion that starts at 2:24, weaving with the kick drum and the choir vocals of “Winter Solstice” by Cold Specks.
The screeching electric guitar followed by the rest of the band crashing in at 2:57 of “We Are Dust” by Almost There.
The repeated electric guitar walkdown from “Live Today” by Almost There.
The run-on sentence that ends “Goodnight, Firefly” by Candle (Kevin Coons) starting at 3:00.
The lyric “It may be asleep in a roadside motel, but evil is alive and well” from “Evil Is Alive And Well” by Jakob Dylan.
The lyric “When you bite into nature, nature bites back…” from “People in Trees” by Peter Wilde.
The lyric “You always put me first, and somehow that broke my heart” from “Sea Green, See Blue” by Jaymay.
The close vocal harmony of Alani Chavez on “Look At What The Light Did Now” by Lockewood.
The lyric “Once I had a child, he was wilder than moonlight, he could do it all, like he'd been here before…” from “Here Before” by Vashti Bunyan.
When the brushes on the snare drum break in and introduce the banjo and accordion on “Divine Romance” by Phil Wickham at 1:24
“Some Things Last A Long Time” by Daniel Johnston.
When the washtub kickdrum reverberates at 1:28 on “Stay Away From Me” by Blackfoot Gypsies.
The soulful chorus of “Diddy Bop” by Noname.
Anytime I make a new discovery (after 18 years of listening so far) when listening to anything by The Band on good headphones, particularly the funny little vocals that Richard Manuel and Levon Helm do in the background of the mix.
The rest of these entries are all from The National. God bless them for the most goosebumps per band:
When the tambourine kicks in on the last chorus of “Looking for Astronauts” at 2:04.
When the tambourine kicks in (both times) on the buildup of The National’s (cover of) “Twenty Miles to NH (Part 2)”.
When the humming starts on “All Dolled Up in Straps” at 2:32.
The lyrical direct-address of the “Hey, are you awake?” conversation portion of “About Today”.
Basically the entirety of “Secret Meeting”, (both the original and the EP remix).
When the string section kicks in on “Baby, We’ll Be Fine” at 2:23.
When the band drops out and Matt Berninger sings “I’m getting nervous, na-na-na-na-na-na-na…” on “Friend of Mine” at 1:13.
The “da-di-da-di-da” march parts of “City Middle” throughout.
The drums for “The Thrilling of Claire”.
The opening 3/4 piano chords and organ drone from “Fake Empire” (their best song).
When the eighth note drumming drops out but the eighth note piano keeps going and then the drums kick back in at the same time as the vocals and the rest of the band on “Apartment Story” at 2:15.
The eighth note Sufjan Stevens piano interlude on “Ada” and the repeated “Ada”s throughout the closing.
The pump organ with the classical guitar solo on “Forever After Days”.
The squealing electric guitar feedback as it kicks into the screaming vocal closing the live version of “Squalor Victoria” for The White Sessions (2007) album at 2:48.
Brian Devendorf drumming on the repurposed fan blade cages during the second verse of “Little Faith” at 2:23.
The harmonium, the Bon Iver ghostly wails, and the closing ragged mantra of “Afraid of Everyone”.
The swell at 3:44 of “Bloodbuzz Ohio”.
The opening full, chunky, all-containing electric guitar chord strums, the initial drum fill, the horn-like piano part at 2:40, and when the drums drop out and then kick back in after Matt Berninger loses his breath and sings “do-do-do-do-do…” on “Lemonworld”.
The opening piano chords of “Nobody Else Will Be There” because I know what’s coming.
And that’s enough. Of course there are others. I wanted to focus mostly on some lesser known artists. Thank you for this indulgence. Hopefully you can find some new music out of it at least. I’m curious what effects other people this way when they listen to music. Go listen to something good.