Nothin’ Like The Summer (2007) – Carmen Rasmusen

Carmen Rasmusen is the only American Idol contestant I have ever voted for. (That is, until Season 7 when Kristy Lee Cook and Kady Malloy made the Top 24.) My selectiveness proved to be well-founded: not only will “Nothin’ Like The Summer” stand as a timeless summer song, but also as the best single by an Idol contestant to date.

“Nothin’” finds Carmen’s fresh-faced persona smack dab in the dog days of small-town America, idle and innocent. Romance is on the agenda, as she ruminates over the hallmarks of the season where recreation and pastime are preludes to canoodling at the county fair. The song doesn’t rely on a catchy hook so much as it does an umbrella of well-crafted lyrics, an easy-going melody, and a relaxed pace. What impresses even more is that Rasmusen co-wrote this song, whereas other Idol contestants have launched songs assembled by producers from a team of songwriters.

A budding artistry is evident in her lyrics. While the “flip-flops”/”tic-toc” rhyme could have been corny, in context it smartly evokes the seasonal laze where the golden rules hammered into the brain during school are stashed away in favor of life’s leisurely pursuits and love’s geometry. Contemporary country music too often abuses descriptive literal narratives without regard for the listener’s ability to interpolate a lyric’s meaning. While Rasmusen constructs her estival ode with picturesque descriptions, she affords the listener sufficient leeway to import their own experience: the enterprise of the lemonade stand; the dizzying swoon of flirtation on the Ferris wheel; the dusk-‘till-dawn adventures by the lake; the stardust lounge of the backyard barbeque.

Perhaps the four-year layover between the height of her Idol fame and eventual album release allowed Rasmusen to address the vocal tendencies which so many had criticized while she was a contestant; they are barely discernable now, if at all. Carmen’s vocals unfurl with controlled dynamics and expressive warmth, a picnic blanket on which to recline as she basks in the festival of her senses. And, as evidenced here and elsewhere on her debut album, Rasmusen’s voice charms most endearingly when it sails into its falsetto.

As far as the most celebrated Idol alumnae go, Kelly Clarkson’s biggest hits were moderately catchy, but largely a product of pre-packaged songwriting that never rose above the One Tree Hill demographic at which they were aimed. Carrie Underwood, with her pop-tinged voice, is miscast as a country artist, which makes her success in that industry mind-boggling. Carmen Rasmusen will probably never reach the commercial milestones Clarkson and Underwood have enjoyed, but her success lies in making a memorable splash long after the ship of Season 2 Idol hoopla left the harbor. With the strength of “Nothin’ Like The Summer” as her lead-off single, if “Stranded” and “Keep Me Forever Falling” are released as follow-ups, she may yet score a ride on a luxury liner.

Listen to "Nothin' Like The Summer" and purchase from iTunes Music Store.

Channel One Suite (1997) – Buddy Rich and the Buddy Rich Big Band (produced by Neil Peart)

Although one could focus on the technical wizardry evident in the legendary Buddy Rich’s actual drumming incorporated into this re-working of Rich’s “Channel 1 Suite,” what proves to be just as entertaining is the parade of euphemisms the string of big band singers concoct in the second movement to acknowledge that Buddy Rich was a grade-A asshole. The sincerity with which they pay tribute while simultaneously maligning him is artful.

Not available from iTunes Music Store.

The Only One (1983) – Lionel Richie (David Foster/Lionel Ritchie)

(The Cupid Chronicles: Complexions of Love – A Formulaic Devotion)

There’s only one reason why anyone even gives a crap about Nicole Richie: her daddy’s success as a songwriter enabled her to befriend the similarly useless-without-money Paris Hilton, which they parlayed into The Simple Life and a notorious beef before making-up again as BFFs. While “All Night Long” and “Brick House” were big hits, most of daddy’s money flowed from his ballads. And although a ballad is a ballad is a ballad, “The Only One” was co-written with the master of all balladeers, David Foster. Together, Foster and Richie crafted a song of soul mate affirmation which wields a chorus capable of so stirring one’s embrace of monogamy that, in a moment of weakness, one is apt to forgive Richie his transgressions in raising a spoiled socialite.

Listen to "The Only One" and purchase from iTunes Music Store.

I Must Be In Love (1978) – The Rutles

(The Cupid Chronicles: Complexions of Love – A Fabulous Infatuation)

The Rutles were much more than a parody of The Beatles. While there is humor and wit in their lyrics, the true ingenuity is reflected in Neil Innes’ songwriting ability to distill the characteristics of Beatles songs into an amalgam that sounds very familiar, yet completely original. “I Must Be In Love” evokes the head-wagging arrangement of ”A Hard Day’s Night,” borrows the guitar jangle of “You Can’t Do That,” and slips in the “ooooh” from “I Saw Her Standing There.” Emulating the simplicity of early Beatles hits, the elementary lyrics portray the discombobulating nature of love that causes one to vacillate between extremes. Melodically, Innes captures the halcyon days of infectious pop with a teenager’s verve. Cry “blasphemy” if you will, but “I Must Be In Love” would rank among the best McCartney/Lennon compositions of their early years.

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The Camera Eye (1981) - Rush

The appeal of Rush vocalist/bassist Geddy Lee’s shrill voice is obviously a divisive issue (as is drummer Neil Peart’s lyrics). However, if need be, one could overlook such individual vexations and regard Lee’s voice as an adjunct, aiding and abetting the song’s overall flow, rhythm and arrangement. At the very least, “The Camera Eye” is lyrically immersing—a fastidious perspective fostered through photographic pursuits—and vocally engaging—with Lee managing to diplomatically temper melody with harmonious restraint.

Against a background of car horns honking in the distance, a (now) démodé synthesizer patch sprouts to the germination of modulating gurgles. A snare breaks the gridlock with military rudiments, yielding to the warm purring of Alex Lifeson’s guitar. As the cityscape swirls with activity, the pace opens to a leisurely tour of its outskirts. In approaching the city limits, the tempo shifts into high gear, purposefully racing toward the bustling epicenter. Drummer/lyricist Neil Peart has learned to absorb every detail of his surroundings—lighting, angle, composition. Like the camera lens, he is able to capture the moment in his mind’s eye, and admire the minutiae that pedestrians hastening to their destinations fail to appreciate. In New York, in London—he is in tune with the life energy enveloping him, telling him its stories. Lifeson’s guitar occupies the soundscape with measured arpeggios, then sizzles in kinetic outbursts and axial riffs, buttressed by the signature growl of a Rickenbacker articulating Lee’s nimble bassline in rhythmic melodies. Peart plies his trade in an architecture of propulsion and scattershot fills of cracking snare and tumbling roto/rack/floor toms betwixt distinct ambulatory breaks. Lifeson’s solo glides into the coda, meting out notes with poise before collapsing onto the floor in a hissy-fit. As the 11-minute excursion abates, a straggling synthesizer trails off in errant pulses as Peart retires to his darkroom.

Listen to "The Camera Eye" and purchase from iTunes Music Store.

Let Down (1997) - Radiohead

Sure, it’s nice to hear what the songwriters have to say, but let’s be honest: despite guitarist Johnny Greenwood and lead singer/multi-instrumentalist Thom Yorke’s insight, “Let Down” is the most beautiful tribute to alcoholism ever written.

Yorke acknowledges the void left by people constantly leaving or moving on to better lots in life. Stuck in a rut, those left behind must confront their failures; some do so by drinking, but soon the buzz offers no panacea. Their dreams and aspirations having all but been extinguished, they are left to wallow in inertia and waste away in futility, their spirits crushed. Hence, imbibing heavily presents the only means of escape. Eventually, a state of inebriation provides the only bearable reality.

Chiming guitars and keyboard skirt the rhythm section in counterrhythm, while Yorke’s double-tracked vocals engage a melody that slowly subsides into the mire of lethargy. A duet of bleeps and blips from ZX Spectrum computers momentarily kicks in, later reemerging in a redemptive coda—technology offering salvation in the form of a dot-com boom.

Not available from iTunes Music Store.

Darjeeling (1994) - Rodan

Appearing on the best 7” ever released (Simple Machines’ Inclined Plane), Rodan’s “Darjeeling” rounded out the all-star lineup of Tsunami (covering Flower’s “Beauty pt. II”), Superchunk (“Baxter”), and Unrest (“Winona Ryder”). Each of these songs arguably ranks near the top of each band’s oeuvre. Rodan’s contribution, with its erratic stop-start sequence, is quintessential math-rock—albeit incorporating principles of basic arithmetic, not calculus—calling the listener up to the blackboard to tally along with the ride cymbal in anticipation of each outburst as the band races out of the gates. Dual sizzling guitars, a growling bass, and walloping drums lurch, lunge and gallop in unison, easing into a lope through the countryside for a graze in the meadow, resuming into a sprint that briefly reprises the opening gait before plunging off a cliff in delirium.

Not available from iTunes Music Store.