SOMETHING OLD
Led Zeppelin - Hey, Hey, What Can I Do
1970
Led Zeppelin - Hey, Hey, What Can I Do
1970
Never released on a studio album, this B-side to Immigrant Song brings to mind one word: patience.
I recently heard it on the radio with no front-sell for the first time in ages. I wasn't able to remember which song it was with complete certainty for over two and a half minutes, because it's not until then that the title reveals itself in the lyrics. I kept whispering "hey, hey, what can I do" during the chorus but assumed I was mistaken since Robert Plant never uttered it with me.
I recently heard it on the radio with no front-sell for the first time in ages. I wasn't able to remember which song it was with complete certainty for over two and a half minutes, because it's not until then that the title reveals itself in the lyrics. I kept whispering "hey, hey, what can I do" during the chorus but assumed I was mistaken since Robert Plant never uttered it with me.
Then, finally, it gets repeated until the end of the song. While maybe not matching the intensity of waiting for the "beat drop" (or the Zeppelin equivalent to that) after something like the acoustic intro of Babe I'm Gonna Leave You, there's something really satisfying about the structure of patiently anticipating the title lyrics.
I also love how the structure contributes to the storytelling in a meaningful way. The lyrics sing about loving an unfaithful party girl, reasonably even a prostitute if we scrutinize the "street corner girl" and "midnight shift" lyrics. We don't know this, though, until the chorus comes in for the first time. The first verse only remarks on her dreamy good looks and the narrator's devotion toward her. The dissonance grows throughout the song: it's clear that he truly loves her, but he knows she's bad news. As he contends with this, he finally asks what he can do, and that comes across as a genuine question rather than easy filler lyrics.
Accompanying this storytelling is a really lush folk/country-leaning arrangement that lets Jimmy Page shine on his acoustic twelve string guitar. It's quite the contrasting B-side to the electric viking wails of Immigrant Song, but it's precisely that range that made Led Zeppelin the timeless band they are.
SOMETHING NEW
Lana Del Rey - First Light
April 16th, 2026
Lana Del Rey - First Light
April 16th, 2026
There is something to be said about the distinct sound that the James Bond franchise has been bringing to life with musicians for over sixty years. Having only seen one Bond movie in my life and without looking at any details about this new Lana Del Rey song when it came up as a suggested new release last month, I knew before the first minute mark that it absolutely belonged to Bond.
Whether it's Paul McCartney, Shirley Bassey, or Adele, the splendor of these compositions all embody the same enduring, instantly recognizable power in a way that's incomparable to much else I can think of.
Del Rey's is no exception, though it was recorded for an upcoming 007 video game rather than film. Her personal artistic touch, however, is not lost amidst the traditional sound for the silver screen (or...the Xbox?). It's easy for these sorts of themes to become cheapened for nostalgia and marketing, but it's still as much of a Del Rey song as it is a Bond theme. Around 2:10, it momentarily softens and carries a melody reminiscent of the chorus of Violets for Roses from Blue Banisters, her 2021 record
As someone who ended up playing multiple different Bond themes throughout my time in middle and high school orchestras, I hope to see this one added to the repertoire that unpracticed teenagers will butcher at their spring concerts.
SOMETHING BORROWED
Margaret Glaspy & Madison Cunningham - The Book of Love (The Magnetic Fields)
2025
Margaret Glaspy & Madison Cunningham - The Book of Love (The Magnetic Fields)
2025
Stephin Merritt grew up in Boston, where I assume puberty eventually granted him his very deep voice, though it's a funny thought to imagine him exiting the womb already emitting the sound of a bass. His singular voice and outstanding songwriting skills made me fall in love with The Magnetic Fields years ago, with this song being my introduction. Strangely, I can specifically remember being in my backyard as a teenager with my headphones on and searching for Fleetwood Mac's completely different Book of Love, when I stumbled upon its twin search result. I recall being taken aback by the album cover: a big, bare "69" in recognition of Merritt's impressive collection of sixty nine different original love songs. It wasn't the song I was looking for, and the cover made me think it was in jest, frankly, so I listened only begrudgingly. Over time, this remarkably simple song has become one of my all-time favorites.
I hold so much reverence toward the song and Merritt, but I will also acknowledge that the recording below scratches one last itch I didn't even know I had until I heard it. It's the harmonies and other little vocal details here that ascend The Book of Love from the bassy underground of Stephin Merritt to the sunny blue skies of Margaret Glaspy and Madison Cunningham. There's no surprise that the itch is being scratched partially by Cunningham, who I strongly believe is one of our generation's finest musicians.
Music is so integral to my life because of its power over me. A single note can move me to tears. The way that these two women harmonize and undulate the words "I" and "you" in the chorus is among the most beautiful things I've ever heard, without hyperbole. They have not drastically changed Merritt's biblical source material, yet as if it were a song brand new to my ears, I am utterly transfixed by this simple embellishment (of which I do not know the right vocal terminology - a run? a flip? a yodel?).
Glaspy and Cunningham's voices smoothly intertwine like fetal twins cradling against each other and taking in the same oxygenated blood from their mother; naturally and wholly connected, and born to be exactly that way.
SOMETHING... FOR A MISERABLE TRAIN RIDE AND A MISERABLE MONTH
The Roches - The Train
1979
The Roches - The Train
1979
Once you step on you might never get off the commuter train...
T.S. Eliot predicted my past month when he opened The Waste Land with "April is the cruellest month."
In April, I spent more time on the Long Island Rail Road than I'm typically accustomed to, though rest assured I have spent countless hours on these trains for years. My body knows exactly when each stop will come, precisely when my internet will start working again once we exit the tunnel, and my ears are attuned to signal my hands to get my ticket ready as soon as I hear the conductor's keys rattling. These trips are usually neutral as I commute to and from work, though occasionally it's for fun. But what has been more foreign and somber lately has been boarding the train in previously untraveled directions after work to make hospital visits.
In April, I spent more time on the Long Island Rail Road than I'm typically accustomed to, though rest assured I have spent countless hours on these trains for years. My body knows exactly when each stop will come, precisely when my internet will start working again once we exit the tunnel, and my ears are attuned to signal my hands to get my ticket ready as soon as I hear the conductor's keys rattling. These trips are usually neutral as I commute to and from work, though occasionally it's for fun. But what has been more foreign and somber lately has been boarding the train in previously untraveled directions after work to make hospital visits.
I board the train with unfamiliar faces and make stops I've never heard of. It's a peak train, and even more crowded than my typical one home. And damn it if New Jerseyan sisters Suzzy, Maggie, and Terre Roche didn't know exactly what these trips felt like decades before I was born. That's the thing, though. They captured a universal stream of consciousness of any regular train rider, or maybe even any human. Lyrics like I am trying not to have a bad day / Everybody knows the way that is and He is miserable and I am miserable / We are miserable stand out as a raw observation of the human condition, especially people getting to or from their unglamorous day jobs or major stops like hospitals.
While observing the misery of the average Joe, there's also a lot of tenderness for the everyman. Suzzy Roche is a professional people-watcher, commenting on her seat mate's every move and comes to wish she had the confidence to ask him his name. She even "spies" on him in the reflection of the window glass, which I have done a million times.
It's funny, it's sad, and it's real. There is a profound loneliness on these northeast trains, where we are packed together like sardines yet pretend the other passengers don't exist.