If California is so progressive, why haven’t they updated their state song in nearly three-quarters of a century? The current anthem, “I Love You, California” was written in 1913 by Francis Beatty Silverwood and that dude definitely can’t skate. Quite frankly, we think it’s about time the land of fruit, honey, and wine became the land of keeping up with the times. Currently, Santa Cruz’s hardcore darlings Drain are embodying all that the Golden State has to offer. We’re pretty sure everyone unanimously agrees that they should take the reins of ushering in a new generation to the West Coast. Time to open up that motherfucking pit and look at 15 of their songs that we think should replace the California State Anthem. (Listen to the playlist as you read.)
“Devil’s Itch”
“I Love You, California” features exactly zero pinch harmonics. You know what song features several in addition to the nastiest fucking bass tone you’ve ever heard? Fucking “Devil’s Itch,” that’s what. Also, if that breakdown doesn’t get you so goddamn jacked about the Bear Flag that you do a spin kick through a wall, likely nothing will.
“The Other Side of Paradise”
The last time we were at Cowell Beach, we played this song at full volume on our Bluetooth speaker. A nearby seagull got so fucking pumped he almost beat a sand crab to death with its own claw. The brutal thrashing only stopped when the song got to the sample of “What the World Needs Now Is Love” at the end. Needless to say, this track has something for everybody. Isn’t that what an anthem is supposed to be about?
“Run Your Luck”
Forget the supply chain shortage, what this country is actually running low on is official state songs with multiple drum breaks. California could lead the charge and help heal our nation by adopting this absolute barn-burner of a track, or they could keep the current one and make everything worse. It’s really up to the state legislature at this point. Make the right choice, y’all.
“Don’t Believe the Hype”
There’s a lot to love about California. From idyllic beaches to devastatingly gorgeous natural wonders, the Golden State seems to have it all. Unfortunately, that also means it has a lot of fucking tourists. Those yuppie fucks ruin everything, so why not pick an anthem that undersells the state’s appeal? The Freeze did it with “I Hate Tourists” and it’s the unofficial anthem of Cape Cod.
“Couldn’t Care Less”
The intro to this one has a similar oom-pah beat to some of the more orchestrated versions of the current state song, so it would be a pretty easy transition for the public. Once that familiarity settles in, though, buckle up for a verse structure that’s heavier than the Golden Gate Bridge. Plus, this one is definitely fitting for the stereotypical carefree attitudes of average Californians.
“The Process of Weeding Out”
California has had legal weed for a while now, and you wouldn’t know it by how little they advertise that fact. Why not lean into it with an appropriately titled and officially endorsed regional song of praise? We’re pretty sure this song has nothing to do with smoking weed, but casual listeners can’t understand what lead singer Sammy Ciaramitaro is saying anyway. Plus, anytime you smoke a joint it should be called “Weeding out.”
“Today Is Mine”
California has always been defined by how big its residents dream. The go-to attitudes of the hordes of people who flock to the state with big dreams of making it big before landing lofty careers in the service industry need a fitting song to pair with their ambitions. Why shouldn’t it be “Today Is Mine”? It’s a song as inspiring as it is heavy. “I Love You, California” doesn’t even have gang vocals.
“Hollister Daydreamer”
We’re beginning to think that maybe Drain’s music is too heavy to be considered palatable for an entire state’s anthem. Much like a nervous student attempting to get into Stanford, we think we might need a safety. This track is an instrumental, the guitars sound like the desert, mentions an actual city within the state, and is under two minutes long. It should be a shoe-in if the powers that be want to be more wide-reaching, even though we personally think they should tell any haters to eat sand.
“California Cursed”
We know, we know. Maybe it’s not a great idea to suggest your state curses people in its anthem. On the other hand, maybe it’s sick as fuck. Do you really want to risk it, California? Do you want to look sick as fuck or do you want to look like some dweeb that would get absolutely shitkicked in the pit? Well? Which is it?
“Good Good Things”
There’s too much negativity in the world these days. Seems that we all only hear about very bad bad things. California could brighten the entire country’s morale by pivoting from a boring anthem no one’s even heard to a cover of one of Descendents’ most uplifting tracks. It appeals to young an old people alike, who says no to this?
“Living Proof”
Californians get a lot of shit. They’re hippies. They’re dirty surfer people. Their streets are too hilly in places like San Francisco. All of it is pretty unfair, and most critics are just jealous because they live in, like, Idaho, or some shit. Because of this, it only seems fitting that the state should pick a regional hymn that ‘throws it back in their faces.’ Also, there’s an incredibly prominent cowbell in this one, and like… Is it really an anthem without a cowbell?
“Army of One”
The fabled “California Dream” is as old as time, or at least as old as whenever the moniker was coined during the Gold Rush. For some, California is where the dream goes to die, but for others, notably Drain, it is where it is allowed to flourish. To help bolster the image of the latter, the state should take notes from the lyrical content of this song and tell those not serious about their goals to get fucked by making this one their official theme.
“Watch You Burn”
Remember when the Trump administration almost refused to give California Federal Disaster Relief funds during the wildfires of 2020? California sure as fuck remembers. The state would do well by adopting an anthem that ensures this will never happen again by turning Ciaramitaro’s lyrics into a vague threat against whatever administration tries to pull that shit when it inevitably happens again.
“Feel the Pressure”
Tragic natural disasters aside, did you know California has some of the most stable barometric pressure readings in the entire country? Quite frankly, we don’t think people are making as big of a deal out of this as they should. This song isn’t just a great track to serve as the state’s signature song, it could also make a great tagline for the region: “Come to California and Feel the Pressure™, tell ’em Sammy sent ya.”
“Trapped In My Head”
If you’ve never been to California, you probably aren’t aware that it is required that every citizen of the state must be able to land a kickflip convincingly or be forced to move to Nevada. “Trapped In My Head” is the type of song that would have been featured on every single Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater soundtrack if it had been released in time. To honor both this tragic example of bad timing and the state’s rich and vibrant skate culture, we are demanding that every city in California start playing this one at full volume before every Town Hall meeting immediately.
Photo by Ryan Baxley.
/**/
This album has the vibe that can best be described as: Eeyeore head-ass. In all seriousness, when people set out to roast the Mountain Goats – and they often do, even the fans – a common critique that’s brought up is that the band tends to sound whiny. And mewling. And not very… what’s the term… not-unpleasant. And that lack of pleasantness is never on display better than in “Get Lonely.” Oh, it’s a very competently produced record. There are some truly great moments on it. It has a great, spare folk sound, like Darnielle is trying to cosplay as Nick Drake. But ultimately, this is a record that feels better suited for ardent fans than newcomers.
“All Eternals Deck” is probably the most Rock-focused album the Mountain Goats ever put out. Especially with songs like “Estate Sale Sign” and “Prowl Great Cain.” It almost feels reminiscent of the pop-punk and emo music that was popular at the start of the new millennium. Except, you know, not crawling with sexual predators.
Boy oh boy we love a COVID project, don’t we? Some of us made sourdough, some of us learned guitar, some of us started podcasts. Some of us went off the absolute deep end and decided to have a… baby for whatever reason. John Darnielle decided to use the regulations and isolations of COVID-19 to record “Songs for Pierre Chuvin,” a short, abrasive and odd little album that harkens back to the band’s early, lo-fi days. There’s nothing really wrong with this album. It’s named for a dead historian, it’s got songs about pagans and hopeful assassins. It’s a great entry point to the pre- “Tallahassee” sound of the band. But still, once you’ve heard “Coroner’s Gambit” or “Sweden,” it’s very hard for this to quite measure up.
For whatever reason “Full Force Galesburg” tends to get the short end of the stick when people talk about The Mountain Goats’ lo-fi era. And sure, to be clear, it’s not the band’s best album. But it is a clear step on the way to the sound that would ultimately feature in albums like “Heretic Pride” and “In League With Dragons,” with Darnielle toning down the buzz-saw abrasiveness (in parts) for something a little more melodic and folksy. Overall, it’s a very good, if sometimes slightly boring listen. Of all the album covers we’ve gotten from The Mountain Goats, this is one of the least pleasant, with canary yellow background and appropriated Hindu art just randomly in one corner. But still, and it bears repeating… Hi, Joel.
This is an album that suffers from one problem. It front-loads a lot of its least impressive material. Specifically songs like “Heights,” which feel like meandering scribble scrabble. Like a dumb little donkey child doing a placemat maze. Still, this album is full of brave choices. Like John Darnielle, with his… John Darnielle voice, doing a cover of Blues standard “Hellhound on My Trail,” is… a choice. Playing it super uptempo is also a choice. It doesn’t not work. But it’s a choice. That being said, the opener, “Then the Letting Go” is one of the all-time best Mountain Goats songs. Beautiful and understated and not even two minutes long. Other songs like “Alpha Double Negative: Going to Catalina” are fantastic continuations of the “Alpha Couple’s” blistering journey toward divorce.
Oh fuck me, this cover’s ugly. It’s weird how such an aggressive seeming album, one in which Darnielle promises to jab us “in the eye with a foreign object,” opens with a little kitty-whimper of a song in “Southwestern Territory.” Still, there is a lot of bluster to “Beat the Champ,” but it never quite seems to rise to the challenge of some of the other Mountain Goats albums from the 2010s.
Amazingly, this and “Songs for Pierre Chuvin” came out mere months apart. They couldn’t sound more different. Whereas “Pierre Chuvin” is grating, brief and lo-fi, “Getting Into Knives” is jazzy, lush and thoroughly hi-fi. It’s classic recent Mountain Goats fare. Snarky lyrics. Catchy hooks. Darnielle screaming as often as he’s singing. There are some incredible singles like “Get Famous.” The issue here is, much like “Pierre,” there’s really nothing super new here. Also, it’s weird that this is where Darnielle decided to make some super long songs.
“OH MY GOD, it’s ‘GOING TO GEORGIA!’ OH MY GOD! OH…” Great. Yeah. We love “Going to Georgia,” don’t we folks. That’s… the song on here that TikTok made famous, huh. Nobody talked about this album forever and then TikTok made “Going to Georgia” big. You really like it. You know what… you really wanna know what, though, folks? We like “Going to Georgia” too. But this album has a lot of great stuff on it aside from that, the introduction of the should-be-divorced Alpha Couple, for instance, and the first and only full-length appearance of the backing group, The Bright Mountain Choir.
I don’t know how it wouldn’t be obvious to everyone that John Darnielle was one day going to make a “D&D” themed concept album, but of course he did. That’s not to say this is the audible equivalent of listening to a “Dungeons and Dragons” session. It’s far too quick and pleasant and the people making it seem at least tangentially aware of nudity. In all seriousness, “In League With Dragons” is pretty good all the way through. It’s one of Darnielle’s more personal albums, touching on his experiences with drugs. The opening track, “Done Bleeding” is a particularly good example of this. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with this album, but it feels pretty well-worn territory-wise by now.
Remember when this album came out and The Alamo Drafthouse used “Training Montage” in a trailer for their September 2022 lineup? Remember how fun it was watching Coraline’s Other Mother jump down her spider web while John sang: “I’M DOING THIS FOR REVENGE?” No? Just us? Did not a lot of you go to the Alamo Drafthouse in late August of last year? Hey… do not a lot of you have access (either proximity wise or financially) to an Alamo Drafthouse? No. Oh, fuck, well… this ain’t gonna work. Either way, this album came out at the right time for us. We’d all just started boxing to work on our anger issues and it felt great blasting this album on the ride home from the gym. 8/10 Fighting Mittens. Which is what we could call Boxing Gloves if we ever met Logan Paul, because it would really piss him off.
I have a little secret that I’m only going to share with you, don’t whisper a word of it to anyone, but I prefer this album to “Tallahassee.” And it’s not close. However… cultural legacy is important and blah, blah, blah, blah blah… there’s great stuff on here. And y’all overlook it because it came out in between “Tallahassee” and “The Sunset Tree?” Well… that’s fair. It’s tough being the shrimp between two whales. But seriously, when was the last time you truly listened to “Slow West Vultures?” When was the last time you sat and… listened? To anything? Or anyone? When was the last time anyone smiled when they saw you coming? When was the last time you did something for someone else? When was the last time you believed in Heaven? Did you stop believing once you realized you had lived a life bound to fall short of grace? What would that change, do you think? If you listened? Either way. “We are who we are. Get in the goddamn car.” Okay?
The Thunderbird was a legend among the indigenous peoples of North America said to be so large that it created thunderstorms when it flapped its wings. This was disproved in the ‘70s when two Thunderbirds attacked a small boy. Witnesses estimated the actual wingspan to be a mere 10 feet. If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate in a hookup, it’s lying about size.
Bigfoot’s weird Floridian cousin. Between his giant Pepe Le Pew-like appearance and the fact that he chooses to live in Florida, I’m betting Skunk Ape would come on a little strong for my taste. Buy a guy a drink first!
He’s the Bigfoot of Australia, and I’m a sucker for the accent, but the Yowie’s reputation for aggression and violence is kind of a turn-off. He must be a descendant of a Bigfoot criminal the other Bigfoots shipped down under when their prisons got too crowded.
Early reports of Trunko were wild. A giant polar bear-like fish with an elephant trunk? Sign me up! Unfortunately in 2010, some photos surfaced proving that Trunko was likely just a hunk of rotting whale flesh that washed up on shore. Humpable in an emergency, but not really my type.
This “creature” was the inspiration for what some consider to be the first found footage horror movie “The Legend of Boggy Creek.” He is described as being a large, hairy man-like creature with red eyes, but I’ve been to Arkansas, and it was probably just some dude.
A lake monster, like good ole Nessy, but this one resides in Burlington Vermont so he’s got a more crunchy/granola vibe. If I were still a teenager Champ would be a total dreamboat, but I’m done pretending to be into Phish no matter how big and scaly you are.
I’m not going to try and tell you that octopus sex wouldn’t be hot, we all know it is. I just think the Kraken must have a huge ego. He’s got his own rum, his own cryptocurrency, he’s in movies, he even has his own catchphrase, “Release the Kraken!” I’m looking to have sex with a crypto-zoological creature that’s a little more down to earth.
Africa is a hotbed for Cryptids that are probably just regular animals that haven’t been photographed yet. The African Peacock was considered a cryptid until its existence was confirmed in 1936. Sex with regular animals is wrong, but until they’ve been captured on film they are fair game! Please, no one photographed this undiscovered wild dog until I’ve had sex with it.
Selkies are mythical Scottish seals with the ability to shape-shift into humans. I guess that comes in handy if you enjoy sex with humans, which to be clear, I DON’T!
Wampanoag folklore tells of the Pukwudgie, a name that roughly translates to “little wild man of the woods that vanishes.” I’ve had my share of wild men in the woods that vanish. I’m looking for a cryptid that’s ready to commit.
Specimens of this giant water snake/sea horse hybrid have allegedly been captured live twice, but both times it was released back into the water. Sounds like a pretty checkered dating history, no thanks.
Some accounts of this centuries-old Russian cryptid have it that it’s a giant dragon-like creature that swallowed an entire airplane during WWII. Others say it’s just a larger-than-average beaver. I could maybe be persuaded into a hookup, but Brosno Dragon, you need to figure yourself out before you start thinking about a relationship.
I think I speak for all cryptosexuals when I say I’m more into chimeras with human bodies and animal heads, not the other way around. Besides, you don’t get your own ancient Egyptian monument without developing a pretty massive ego.
Glowing eyes and tendril-like fingers are sexy, but all the crypto-zoological sex in the world wouldn’t be hot enough to get me through another Massachusetts winter.
He’s a true mystery man. Reports of his appearance differ wildly, and there is some debate over whether he is an actual creature or the spirit of the river. In the early 20th century several expeditions were made to the Congo in an effort to find him, but those crypto-zoologists turned up nothing because they didn’t employ my technique — seduction.
Welsh mythology tells of this giant frog with bat wings and a long lizard-like tail with a stinger on the end. This nefarious creature uses these unholy attributes to… snap fishing line? Sorry, but I’m not sleeping with a cryptid that refuses to live up to its lethal potential.
I already know I’m going to catch flack for putting The Mothman so low on this list of cryptids I would like to have sex with. I get it. Seven feet tall, enormous wings, and glowing red eyes, he’s a hottie. I just can’t hear the name “Mothman” and not think about Richard Gere. It’s a mood killer. It’s not you Mothman, it’s me, okay?
According to legend, in 1735 a woman named Jane Leeds, frustrated upon learning she was pregnant with her 13th child, cursed her own pregnancy and declared her offspring would be “a devil.” She proceeded to birth a horse or goat-like creature with giant leathery bat wings, aka a total smoke-show. Unfortunately, this stud loses points on account of the fact that older men from New Jersey are notoriously selfish lovers.
Basically like the winged monkeys from “Wizard of Oz” but without wings. They’re just mean scary monkeys is all I’m saying. They also tend to travel in packs, and I’m just not really into the group thing anymore.
You might think a relationship between a human and a reptile-bird chimera is strange, which is why I’m glad Snallygaster lives near Baltimore. The residents of Charm City aren’t prudes, and they wouldn’t bat an eye at the two of us sharing crab cakes by the harbor, browsing around Atomic Books, and scooping helpless victims into the sky to drink their blood. It’s called being open-minded.
This serpentine lake monster is said to be 50 feet long and thicker than a telephone pole, so you know he’s and ideal lover, and he’s Canadian so you know he’s nice!
Deafheaven had been straddling the line between underground and mainstream at this point, but the rave reviews from NPR helped make this the kind of record that could win a Grammy and be sold as an impulse item at the Whole Foods checkout. The sudden softening of their sound is outright startling, and makes the heavier parts feel tacked on, rather than intrinsic to the songwriting. Chelsea Wolfe appears on one track (as well as roughly 65% of metal albums worth listening to that were made in the 2010s), harmonizing gorgeously with vocalist George Clarke’s suddenly clean vocals. By no means a bad record, but it lacks momentum and cohesion.
Every abrasive underground band is legally required to eventually put out one album that makes all the critics raise an eyebrow and say “Well, this is different!” This record completed the shift that Ordinary Corrupt Human Love had teased, pushing the dream pop/black metal ratio to something like 9:1. It’s like Beach House teamed up with Mogwai and they all binged on molly and early Mayhem records. The tracks are catchy and sexy as hell, but there’s a bland sameness that starts to creep in by the time you get to the halfway point. Whereas OCHL suffers from mild lack of cohesion, Infinite Granite suffers from mild homogeneity. While Clarke’s sudden banshee shrieks at the end of “Mombassa” gave some critics the vapors, that’s probably because they bought OCHL at Whole Foods three years earlier and never listened to anything else the band has ever done.
Deafheaven’s heaviest full-length. The band had just made themselves a reputation as too lightweight for the metalheads and too intense for the indie kids. But with New Bermuda, the band clearly wants to win over the metalheads; most of this thing sounds like molten steel boiling over in your speakers. And yet, there’s still a thoughtful sense of dynamic range. On opening track “Brought to the Water,” for a little over a minute, full-throttle white-knuckle metal gives way to waves of ethereal, chorus-saturated arpeggios. It’s a tantalizing glimpse of where the band’s next albums will go. But then, with a sudden whole-step descending hammer-on, it’s back to heavy-as-hell business as usual. We wanted to dock a point for the vinyl release being 2 LPs played at 45 RPM, because that’s weirdly annoying, but it still kicks hella ass.
Those slabs of abstract melody in the demo start to turn into something a little more refined here. Opener “Violet,” for instance, really takes its time with the ominously shimmering prelude before absolutely exploding a little past the four-minute mark. The whole album is basically a blueprint for taking the loud-quiet-loud dynamic of post-metal outfits like Isis and Pelican and Russian Circles, and raising the stakes several times over, fashioning a reliable-but-sometimes-tired routine into something uniquely unrestrained and emotive. Bonus points for the gorgeous cover art.
Deafheaven took their time putting out this unused track from the “Ordinary Corrupt Human Love” sessions, with no fanfare or promotion whatsoever, and it’s hard to believe that it didn’t make it onto the album. You could make the case that it just didn’t quite fit in with the other songs, and you wouldn’t be wrong, but only because it’s so much better than any of them. Thrashy, gnarly, in-your-face, and possibly the heaviest thing the band has ever made.
Look, we tried really REALLY hard to find a reason not to rank it number one, but this record broke the early 2010s metal scene wide open, leaving heavy music fans pondering whether they could abide an Abercrombie-model-looking lead singer shrieking about “your moon dreams of the dirt and the sharp tongue of your zealous will” over blast beats and tremolo picking. The artsy flourishes that give the album space to breathe are genuinely affecting too. One field recording of an unhinged street preacher is pure Godspeed You Black Emperor, and we mean that in the best possible way. Another recording of guitarist Kerry McCoy trying to score drugs with his last $60, played over a malevolent dirge, is equally haunting. But none of these little avant-garde gestures would add up to much if the music around them weren’t so viciously uncompromising. 24 seconds into album opener “Dream House,” when those chords drop, you’ll think you got hit by the sonic equivalent of a humanity-ending asteroid. If this isn’t the best metal album of its decade, it’s certainly the most important.
