Best song ever right now:

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by The Hold Steady

An open letter to Aden Beihl

Dear Aden,

I’m writing to apologize. I want to say I’m sorry for not heeding your numerous proclamations and getting into the Hold Steady sooner. You have excellent taste in music and when, eighteen months ago, you started wearing your THE HOLD STEADY ALMOST KILLED ME t-shirt four times a week, I should have seen the light and downloaded—or even, god forbid, bought—their debut album immediately. For some reason, though, I hesitated and instead downloaded approximately four thousand Broken Social Scene bootlegs, which also have their value, but should not abound to the exclusion of ass-kicking, narrative retro-rock steeped in urban Minneapolis lore.

I should have also paid attention when my brother took up the Hold Steady mantle. That’s two people whose taste I trust, singing their praises. I should have tapped into the hedonistic glory emanating from Joe’s photo of you standing on stage next to Craig Finn after shotgunning a beer. Speaking of beer, I should have considered sooner the Transitive Property of Rock & Roll & Beer, which states: “Beer is awesome. Therefore, any band who enjoys beer is awesome.” I love that Craig Finn is holding a Budweiser tallboy in almost all of the band’s publicity shots. I love that he tucks his dress shirt into his jeans, thereby accentuating his beer belly and huge belt buckle. I love that his name is Craig Finn, which is the best possible name for an Irish Catholic man who sings about growing up Catholic. Every reference to CCD really takes me back.

And—I really can’t stress this enough—I fucking love good fucking lyrics. Too many lyricists waste the English language on lyrics that mean nothing, which is why I gravitate towards the people who make every word in a song count, like Scott Miller and Travis Morrison and, of course, Mr Finn. And while it may sound snobbish, I’m a sucker for literary references in rock songs. “I won’t be much for all this Humbert Humbert stuff”—fuck me, that’s brilliant.

Also, “Hornets! Hornets!” is a hilarious song title.

Finally, I’m ready to listen to Separation Sunday when I move up to the Twin Cities and go to all the places he mentions and be a total cliché. I am ready to do that.

I do wish, however, that you’d managed to mention to me, during the numerous sessions of your ebullient, drunken, Hold Steady prostelytizing at Tuman’s, that Craig Finn writes concept albums. Because I fucking love concept albums. Even bad concept albums have a certain charm, because you can at least sense that some effort went into it. But awesome concept albums, like 1972 or The Love Below or, to a lesser extent, Welcome Interstate Managers, are even better. What’s best is a concept album about a misguided Catholic girl and her lost innocence in and around the Twin Cities area. The only thing that could possibly make such a concept album better is a lot of great, chunky power chords and killer guitar solos. Any guitarist who looks at a majestic cliff in California and says, “Man, I want to solo on that cliff,” is officially my new musical hero.

So, anyway. Sorry for holding out on you all this time. That’s all gonna change. I’ll be at the Empty Bottle on June 2. And I’ll see you tonight at kickball.

Malc,
Jake