Planted and Enchanted: Vol. 14 - June '21
“I’ve still got your place saved in my maps
I’ll keep it for a rainy day when I relapse”
You can enjoy the Planted and Enchanted: Vol. 14 playlist in its entirety on Spotify. Just click on the included Spotify plugin.
Playlist Highlight: Punching Bag, Wallice
I suppose most artists, regardless of era or medium, consciously or unconsciously, strive to make something timeless. Something important. Something classic.
In Statistics, there is a concept known as the “Power Law” which - inadvertently I might add - captures the phenomenon of a “classic” via mathematical distribution. I’ll spare you the arcane theory (not out of brevity, but purely because I only understand like 2% of it myself), but it can be summarized as follows: a book that has been in print for five years is likely to remain in print for another five. A book that’s been in print for twenty? Yep, you should expect it to be in bookstores in another twenty. (So apologies to all future tenth graders, Shakespeare isn’t going anywhere any time soon.)
This phenomenon exists outside of books of course. It’s why George Jones’s “He Stopped Loving Her Today” still clatters around Country Music stations and Panama City Beach karaoke nights, it’s why students new to Classical piano cut their teeth on Beethoven’s “Für Elise” and why my dad still listens to Tom Petty records in his high school letterman’s jacket. (I made that last one up…I think?)
That’s all well and good, but I suppose I’m even more fascinated by a subterranean application of the Power Law and music, unearthing those rare songs that blend both timelessness and timeliness.
Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Fortunate Son” is a pretty good example; it remains a staple of Classic Rock radio, appears in films rather frequently and most people are familiar with it - meeting the criteria of “timeless.” Just as interestingly, it’s timely because captures the era’s zeitgeist: anxiety over Vietnam, jingoism, and the class injustice of poor kids being conscripted and sent overseas and forced into combat while the rich kids got to stay home, medically deferred with bogus bone spur diagnoses, etc.
(I’m pretty sure all of the above historically accurate, but to be fair, my high school’s curriculum stopped after World War II, so I have to piece together anything that came after with Frontline Documentaries and Oliver Stone movies.)
Anyway, as I was saying. I’m sure you’ve noticed that sometimes music just feels dated, often because of the instruments used or period-specific lyrical references. No joke, my college roommate’s favorite song (ever) was the 90s one-hit-wonder “Hey Leonardo” by Blessed Union of Souls. Again, not joking. If given the chance to take one song to a deserted island, he’s taking this one over all the others. It’s distinctively 90’s and even has a line referencing a “collection of DVDs.” (Full disclosure, this song slaps, so don’t feel bad, Austin, you could do way worse.)
So what’s all this have to do with the month’s Playlist Highlight “Punching Bag” by Wallice? Let’s dive in. Released in 2020, (Are we sure that even counted as a year? What’s the Gregorian calendar’s return policy? Does anyone have like an uncle or something that’s a lawyer who can parse through the terms and conditions and file a class action suit on our behalf?) it’s fun and catchy and a breath of fresh air by a burgeoning artist whose pop beat layered over self deprecating lyrics is as insatiable as it is inviting.
Thematically, it’s rather straight forward. It’s a classic story of being hung-up on someone romantically who you know isn’t the best for you, but you tell your logical brain to “hush” because you just want to be with that person so badly. It’s honestly no different than when I order an extra large pizza at 10:00 PM and the delivery guy shows up at my door and I yell over my shoulder, “Hey babe, the food is here,” but he and I both know that I live alone and that was a total bluff, but I give him a generous tip and 5 stars on Doordash in the hopes he keeps his trap shut about my personal definition of a serving size.
Anyway, as I was saying. From the opening lines, I’m hooked:
I still got your number saved in my phone
And I only ever think of it when I'm alone
It reminds me of one of my favorite lines from Franny and Zooey: “but I don’t actually care where I stay as long as it’s warm and no bugs and I see you occasionally, i.e. every single minute.”
(Did you really think you were getting through an article this long without a single Salinger reference? Shame on you.)
These lines are soon followed by the ones that inspired this piece:
I've still got your place saved in my maps
I'll keep it for a rainy day when I relapse
Akin to “Hey Leonardo,” this reference to the Maps app is a distinctive nod to this specific time period and might not make a lick of sense to a listener thirty years from now. There’s similar instances, such as the reference to a “Hydro Flask” as well as the music video (both charming and low-fi and almost certainly made with a budget identical to what I pay Doordash - plus the tip - for my pizza orders) which displays a text conversation with a “Hinge” dating app guy.
Quick sidebar, putting someone’s name followed by “Hinge” in my contacts when getting a phone number would have been a way better way of doing things when I was still single. Sure, I can remember who they are at the time, but six months go by and I can’t remember if “Amanda” was the name of the real estate agent for my condo or the name of the girl I went on a date with who showed up to dinner (possibly?) high and tried to “Kobe” her half-drank Starbucks coffee cup over the hostess stand into a wastepaper basket that sat in the corner, bricked it, spilling the remainder of her Chai Latte onto the floor. It’s important to note that (a) that story is 100% true (b) yes, in fact, it was our last date. How’d you guess? (c) I refuse to go to the BarTaco in Chastain Park ever again purely out of shame and (d) at the end of the date, we still made out.
Part D is obviously humiliating, but I’m leaving it in because (a) I’ve already debased myself by oversharing my pizza proclivities, so I figured I had nothing left to lose and (b) trying to Kareem skyhook a beverage into a public trashcan on a date seems like something Wallice would actually do.
Anyway, as I was saying. Wallice has the prefect song for Summer - and beyond - queued up and ready for you. While it has some idiosyncratic modern references that will forever encapsulate it in this era, it’s just so damn good that, Power Law or not, is always going to be timeless and timely for me. So grab a slice, a Chai Latte, and enjoy.
What is Planted and Enchanted?
If you’re anything like me, you surely have a “junk drawer” somewhere in your home. It probably consists of an old flashlight with dead batteries in it, a handful of rubber bands alongside some pens running low on ink, enough loose keys for you to qualify as a middle school janitor, some birthday cards given to you years ago (how quickly can I throw these away without it being rude? Better wait another decade just to be safe.), the box to your old iPhone simply because it’s a pretty darn cool box, and a small library of service manuals for among other things: your refrigerator, hot water heater, and that Instant Pot you used just the one time.
I don’t consider my junk drawer “worthless” mind you, but rather see it a collection of delightful discoveries (Hey! I didn’t know I had a yo-yo!), and delightful rediscoveries (So that’s where my playing cards were!).
That’s my aim for this playlist series: Planted and Enchanted. A monthly track list consisting of songs that likely won’t fit perfectly together in a classic album sense, but are useful in planting the seeds of discovery of new genres, artists, and songs as well as the unearthing of music you loved but had long since forgotten about. Who knows, there may even be a hidden theme or two that the savvy listener can piece together. The best part about this playlist? If you don’t like it, that’s okay. We’re talking about junk after all.
If you have a specific song that you’ve recently discovered or come to love, we’d love to hear from you. Just email us at freshcutfinds@gmail.com. We’re planning to roll out more content and a new playlist series in the coming months. Stay tuned!
Each month, we put together a playlist of our favorite discoveries new & old. Each playlist will be about the length of a mix CD (80 mins) and will be sent around the 15th of each month. Subscribe with your email address to receive the monthly Planted and Enchanted playlist, plus other occasional speciaty playlists.
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