True Patriot Love

Sloan, Excerpt from "Rest of My Life" on the album Action Pact, 2003
Since 1993, the Canadian power-pop band Sloan has released nine full-length albums containing a total of 124 tracks. Played back to back, they would last just six hours, thirty-two minutes, and twelve seconds, or not quite half as long as Wagner's Ring cycle (but with way more hooks). In other words, they specialize in lean, clean three-minute songs.

Out of all those songs, this one gets closest to what I like about this band. The lyrics are oblique, and the video, though simple in concept, balances precisely between optimism and nostalgia: these kids are singing about the band they will eventually grow up to be, although they are really just idealized memories constructed by the adult band, who already embody nostalgia by playing a style of music that was out of date even when they formed. Whew!
And if that weren't enough, this line ("I know that I'll be living it in Canada") opens up a whole new can of worms. Here are some ways I've tried hearing it:

1. As a straight-up statement of patriotism. I think the band really loves Canada, as do the fans who drunkenly scream along with this line at Sloan shows.
2. As a wry take on overblown, inappropriate patriotism. This line seems to burst in from outside the song, interrupting the structure of the verse (compare this line to the opening lines of the song) and introducing geographic specificity that contrasts with the delicately vague temporal viewpoint, outlined above. And musically, it's completely over the top! The multitracked vocals and big plagal cadence sound like the national anthem at a curling tournament.
   
3. As a fond memory of the uncomplicated patriotism of childhood. This may reflect my American point of view, since Canadian patriotism, even among my expat friends, seems to have been uncomplicated right up until Stephen Harper's election last year.
   

Persuasive harmonies

Béla Bartók, Excerpt from Bluebeard's Castle (1911), performed by Walter Berry, Christa Ludwig, and the orchestra of Covent Garden under the direction of István Kertész, 1965.

Here's another beautiful moment from Bluebeard's Castle (the first one is here). When Judit opens the first of Bluebeard's seven locked doors, she finds a torture chamber with bloodstained walls. This hardly fazes her, and she resolves to open all the other doors. To reassure Bluebeard, she promises to be gentle and quiet, accompanied by these extraordinarily gentle, quiet chords in the strings and harp.

But Bluebeard is barely convinced, and if you listen closely, the accompaniment reflects his reluctance and suspicion as well. There's something about the harmony and orchestration here that is guarded and meltingly seductive at the same time. It might be a stretch, but I think I can even hear Judit's wariness of Bluebeard, who is rumored to have murdered his three former wives.

The night wind sighs down endless, gloomy labyrinths

Béla Bartók, Excerpt from Bluebeard's Castle (1911), performed by Christa Ludwig and the orchestra of Covent Garden under the direction of István Kertész, 1965.

In honor of the Chicago Opera Theater's recent production, our first two moments are from Bartók's only opera. Judit has just moved into the dark, creepy castle of her new husband Bluebeard. She wants the doors open, he wants them closed, she thinks he's hiding something, and that's basically the plot of the opera.

Early on, Judit throws a tantrum and pounds her fist against one of the doors. At that point, Bartók writes in the score: "The sound is answered by a cavernous sighing, as when the night wind sighs down endless, gloomy labyrinths," but he doesn't actually write any notes or say how the orchestra should make the sound!

This has to be one of the weirdest sounds ever recorded. Does anyone know how they did this? My other recording sounds prosaic by comparison: