I Just Really Miss You (2007) – Miranda Lambert

They typically signify gloom: dark clouds, sad songs, the hard wind. Yet Nashville Star Season 1 finalist Miranda Lambert extracts from such clichéd metaphors a moving despondency that overwhelms the listener with empathy. As a Target™ exclusive track, “I Just Really Miss You” proves that not all such addendums are throwaways—the occasional ace in the hole awaits discovery. Lambert has secreted this surprise through limited availability; perhaps she is unsure whether she wants to expose such nakedness to a lowest common denominator, instead rewarding devoted fans who make the extra effort to obtain it. Or, maybe she just succumbed to a cheap marketing ploy designed to sell more copies. Regardless, the song stuns with its simplicity, both lyrically and musically, Lambert hanging her vulnerabilities bare like laundry on a clothesline, letting the rain and wind have their cathartic way so that she can begin anew once the inclemency subsides. The vestiges of a relationship that could not survive still clutter her head and burden her heart, as she reconciles the infeasibilities that compelled them to part. A couple of soul-steering chord changes underscore the perverted celebration inherent in misery, an appreciation of the piquancy of life’s pain.

Not available from iTunes Music Store.

I Want To Be Wanted (Per Tutta La Vita) (1960) – Brenda Lee (Kim Gannon/Giuseppe Spotti/Alberto Testa)

(The Cupid Chronicles: Complexions of Love – The Lonely Damsel)

With all the yearning Olivia Newton-John exuded in “Hopelessly Devoted To You,” Brenda Lee makes no bones about her desperation to find someone who desires her in the way she deserves to be loved. “I Want To Be Wanted” lays bare Lee’s longing borne of loneliness with such pangs of pining that it draws the listener into her mire, be they sympathetic or similarly situated. Strings straight out of Mantovani’s orchestra and cooing background vocals escort Lee to the 6/8 time signature sway of faint piano and guitar, brushed drums and double bass. Winding chord combinations reach a subtly surprising key shift that nudges the heart with just enough tenderness to sustain hope that each day will bring her closer to realizing her idealized romance.

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His Lamest Flame (1998) – Mary Lou Lord

Arguably, “His Lamest Flame” is Mary Lou Lord’s catchiest song (“His Indie World” being her wittiest), largely because of its irresistible chiming jangle-guitar/“na na na na na na na na na” refrain. The song’s title is a play on Elvis Presley’s “(Marie’s The Name) His Latest Flame”: Lord, whose delicate voice sounds similar to Juliana Hatfield’s, acknowledges that she shares the same black hair and green eyes, but not the name, as the lass Elvis lost. This time, however, it’s the girl who fails to stoke the fire of passion. She senses that there is not much fuel left in the flicker, as the outlook on her romantic future grows dim. In fact, her woefully low self-esteem and passive acceptance of her beau’s waning interest all but ensure that the flame—effete and lame—will be extinguished by her own suffocating self-pity.

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American Terrorist (2006) – Lupe Fiasco

Adding to the flurry of post-Katrina salvos, Lupe Fiasco takes Kanye West’s infamous “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” gripe a step further, accusing the U.S. Government of practicing terrorism against the disadvantaged throughout history by hoodwinking or outright bullying, and then supressing, certain segments of society: steal their land, deprive them of quality education, quash their protests, create distractions to occupy them, exploit ‘em and keep ‘em down. He suggests that manipulation of the economy has inflicted unintended collateral damage across racial boundaries: even the blue-collar Klansman ain’t whistling Dixie as loudly anymore—the price of gas has made cross-burning a costly pastime.

Although his flow at times lacks fluidity, Lupe’s indictment runneth over with bile as he charges the White man with transporting over the smallpox epidemic which eradicated some Indian tribes, importing and lynching slaves, and now bringing terrorism upon the U.S. because of foreign policy regarding Israel. Also, in his eyes, a byproduct of racial injustice has been the stratification of rich and poor, as a government designed to protect its wealthy injects poison, either overtly or insidiously, into certain communities to perpetuate the oppression: casinos and liquor spell gambling addictions and alcoholism for the Native Americans; guns and drugs facilitate the Black man’s unknowing quest to destroy his own people.

It’s unclear why Lupe included the reference to mid-1800s era Chinese railroad laborers and gold miners—they came to America in search of a better life. But in doing so, he missed out on an opportunity to chime in on the current illegal immigration debate. He could’ve dropped a couple more lines in the coda like: “Give brown man keys, park the car / Keep grass short, clean the yard / Raise them kids, mind the crib / but don’t sneak past Border Guard.” Feel free to use ‘em for the remix, Lup!

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Tears On My Pillow (1958) – Little Anthony & The Imperials (Sylvester Bradford/Al Lewis)

Little Anthony takes a slow rhythmic stroll upon a moonlit terrace of disconsolation, his alto piercing the lonely night with a wistful wail that carries over a crestfallen chord progression and the lament of doo-wop vocals, before retiring to languish in the pool of tears he fashions for himself every evening. He still holds out hope for a second chance—foolishly perhaps, but without the delusion of expectation.

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In My Time Of Dying (1975) – Led Zeppelin

Robert Plant, half-drunk with bottle of whiskey in hand, attempts to cajole his way into Heaven, hoping that his hard-living ways will not bar his entry. Jimmy Page, on the other hand, loafs on the devil’s porch, knowing his obsession with the occult has already sealed his fate. What begins as a bluesy spiritual that takes its time in winding down the bayou to reach the levee, soon ruptures into a slide guitar wankfest featuring the lambasting that drummer John Bonham inflicts upon his kit—igniting his hi-hats in a fiery sizzle, cudgeling his kick drum in rhythmic knocks that pound on Heaven’s door, launching assaults on his snare that outright try to bust the door down. All the while Page tries to sear a hole in the guarded portal with a howling, crowing, squalling conflagration of dirty slide guitar. The interplay between Bonham and Page that feeds the inferno does nothing in furtherance of their admission through the Pearly Gates, but they make a devilishly convincing case to be Hell’s house band.

Not available from iTunes Music Store.

Slipped Away (2004) - Avril Lavigne

Co-writer of Kelly Clarkson’s “Breakaway,” and slagger of her teenage peers, on occasion Avril Lavigne actually delivers on her own behalf. Despite the virtual absence of vibrato in her voice that seems juvenile at times, Lavigne draws sympathy out of hardened hearts as she mourns her grandfather’s passing. Although there’s not much in the way of lyrical craft here, she can’t be faulted for her heartfelt tribute, and, to her credit, she avoids overwrought contrivances designed to wring cheap tears. For anyone who has lost a loved one, “Slipped Away” reunites them in remembrance.

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Beautiful (1972) – Gordon Lightfoot

A wonderfully unusual palette of pastoral major 7th and minor 7th chords winds its way through the woods—hues fluctuating in aurora borealis-like undulation—and sweeps over the surface of a Canadian lake, eventually finding the cabin from which Gordon Lightfoot’s rustic baritone emanates in throaty quavers. With fawning adoration for his lady, Lightfoot basks in the permanence of their devotion and marvels in his good fortune. Displaying the artistry of a minstrel in midsummer night’s serenade, Lightfoot massages gradations from exotic chord progressions to imbue the fundamental sentiment of love with shades of mystique and undertones of fascination.

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The Days of Wine and Roses (1963) – Julie London (Henry Mancini/Johnny Mercer)

Retrieving mementos from the annals of her mind with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia and a torch singer’s wistfulness, Julie London reflects upon how unyieldingly time slips away, each moment irretrievably lost. Life dispatches its affairs with episodic brevity, later revisited in fleeting impressions that commemorate the pleasures and delights of yesteryear. London fondly recalls “the days of wine and roses” when romantic gestures were inspired rather than expected; days that embodied a vernal joie de vivre; days that frolic in brief sparks redolent of youthful innocence. Evenings find her companionless, yet comforted by the warm illumination of such fond memories.

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Internal Crash (2005) – Loquat

A piano serenely accompanies Kylee Swenson’s elegant voice as she weaves the somber ruminations of a stroke survivor’s relative. She rues how so much can be lost so quickly: “Internal crash took up seconds / and stole his years / which are hard to win back.” To reconcile this loss of vitality, Swenson dissociates bodily infirmity from the soul’s persistence. Throughout the song she refers to “you,” casting herself as a victim in the second person, as well as distancing herself from the selfish focus on how the stroke has become an imposition upon her. She finally admits that her self-centeredness stems from the extreme psychological toll the stroke has taken upon her, making her perspective as a victim more sympathetic. Indeed, the internal crash inflicted extensive collateral damage.

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Broken Witch (2004) – Liars

A bell clanks in the darkness. Robed and hooded villagers gather around a bonfire for the Invocation. Meanwhile, with each electronic blip, Puritans approach the village with torches raised, intent on burning it down. As a dissonant guitar brays, the Necromancer begins a ritualistic chant, conjuring the spirits of Shapeshifters to inhabit the bodies of the villagers so that they may repel the advancing invaders. Amid off-kilter clicks and clatter that sound like 8-bit resolution drums recorded in a small hut, the incantation crescendos. The conventicle entreats the Soothsayer to foretell of victory. In the shadows cast by the flickering flames, their possessed bodies transmogrify into various incarnations: bears, horses, wolves, birds of prey. The litany rises to the foreboding sky: “We are the army you see through the red haze of BLOOD!” Screams erupt across the moonlit fields, now awash in crimson. The White Witch stands amidst the sanguineous carnage, exhorting the beasts to decimate those who dared to encroach upon her village.

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