Staff Pix 3/13: Parent Music
“Holiday” by Madonna
My mom is nothing if not a Madonna fan. Released in 1983 off of Madonna’s self-titled debut album, “Holiday” was Madonna’s first hit—before “Material Girl” or “Like a Virgin”—and represents the 80s at its finest: palpable synth and feel-good dance beats. Somehow, Madonna makes even the cowbell cool. What’s most special to me about the song is its message that transcends the likes of shoulder pads, neon everything, and teased hair. “It’s time for the good times / Forget about the bad times, oh yeah / One day to come together and release the pressure / We need a holiday.” The sentiment of wanting—needing—to take a break from everyday life continues to resonate over forty years after the release of “Holiday.” — Heather Thorn
“Dance Yrself Clean” by LCD Soundsystem
James Murphy lives in my blood. This whole album was ritual on drives both to and from school throughout the entirety of my formative years. After “Thrift Shop” by Macklemore (not kidding) this track was the first to get that part of my brain reserved entirely for music tingling. I credit my father—who often lauds this song as featuring, “the greatest beat drop of all time”—most of all for this pick, simply for the fact that he was the one putting them on, but my mother has her own unique story. Her love for the band is so massive it seems to have transformed into a bitter grudge against them. The enmity stems from the band’s break up in 2011. A big stink of a farewell in 2011 (see The Long Goodbye, one of the greatest live albums of all time) followed by a seemingly flippant reunion to continue producing six years later with American Dream. Like nothing ever happened. “They make a big sob story and then come right back like it’s nothing!” she repeats more than often, and the more I think about it the more I really can’t blame her! Nostalgia aside, this song is undeniably Soundsystem at their absolute best. The chunky synths and looping drumbeats hit in such a way the only way to really understand it is to experience it firsthand. You can listen to it anywhere. Alone in your room or dancing at a party. The feeling is that universal. So listen now!!! Do it!!! Go!!! Go!!! Dance yourself clean!!! Dance yourself clean!!! Dance yourself clean!!! — Declan Ireland
“Goodbye” by The Sundays
Every band you like, my parents liked 30 years ago, and probably saw in concert at least two times. Prior to their enormous, well-deserved resurgence in the past couple of years, The Sundays found me the summer before my first year of middle school. My dad played a shuffle of their first two albums, Blind, and Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic, from the crunchy speakers of his old truck, packed with folding chairs and beach bags as we drove through Ocean City. The familiar scent of the sea and the soft air of the warm August night fled through the rolled-down windows, braiding into Harriet Wheeler’s perfectly gentle vocals and her husband David Gavurin’s distinct jangly guitar. During that beach trip, I exclusively listened to The Sundays discography off of YouTube playlists and Macbook MP3 rips, and their music weaved into my life throughout middle and high school—staying consistently in my top artists since 2019, decorating my wall, and providing my senior yearbook quote. My dad told me about the two times he had seen them in concert and the place they held in his heart, ultimately gifting me his cassette of Blind in my sophomore year. The album has stayed my top of all time, and while “God Made Me” and “Wild Horses” are my most repeated, “Goodbye” had always been my dad’s absolute favorite—he still blasts the track throughout our house on late summer nights, Wheeler’s voice echoing among the weathered wood of the staircase that I sit on to listen to her cry out, “Let the heavens shudder baby, I belong to you!” — Julia Schramm
“American Valhalla” By Iggy Pop
It’s 7 in the morning. Your eyes can barely stay open and the warmth of the rumbling engine only lulls you to sleep. But as soon as your eyes begin to flutter in acceptance of the hour, Iggy Pop’s gravely baritone crackles its way through the car speakers and into your youthful brain. There’s nothing to do but accept it at this point, his unfamiliar mystique has startled you awake and, honestly, you’re pleasantly surprised. Every drive to school is like this; an Iggy Pop concert that never ends. The vibraphone loops in the back of your brain for days, the jerky, rumbling bass only driving this earworm. Frustration grows into acceptance and suddenly you’re showing everyone at your sixth grade lunch table Post Pop Depression. You all marvel at the unsettling croons at the end of “American Valhalla,” repeating “I’ve nothing but my name” ad nauseum. — Sophie Parrish
“Snowbound” by Donald fagen
For a song about winter it always made me think about summer. My parents would play this amongst many other Steely Dan, or Dan-adjacent songs as we would drive around the beautiful New England metro-west area each warm evening. I think my parents were always a little more into the lyric “lets sleep in today” rather than the namesake of the song. If it’s snowing you have to get up and shovel out the car to get to work. I wonder what Fagen was on when he wrote this song….probably snow. — Sam Shipman
“Wide Open Spaces” by The Chicks
I still don’t know who told my British mother about The Chicks. They were definitely a standout amongst the collection of Britpop and post-punk CDs that lived in her glove compartment, but maybe that’s why they’ve stuck in my memory so much. There might have been plenty of (British) music that defined my childhood more than “Wide Open Spaces”, but now that I’ve grown up and left home there’s something kind of poetic about it being a mainstay in my mother’s music taste: a country song about leaving home because you need to go make your own mistakes for a little while, your mom watching you as she drives off and thinking about how she once did the same thing. If you hear my British accent coming through when I sing it at karaoke, mind your business. — Mimi Newman