Stand in the way of love and we'll smoke them all

I'm not too keen on this Queen, either...

It was the Queen's Birthday holiday in Australia on Monday, which I usually mark with a call for independence from the British crown. As I have in previous years, I'm declaring it Republic Day; fortunately the day we'll get that republic is looking like it will arrive a lot sooner than I would have predicted this time last year. PM Kevin Rudd has put it on the agenda, and Shadow Treasurer Malcolm Turnbull, who will be opposition leader as soon as Brendan Nelson's had enough of making himself look like foolish, is also a prominent Republican. I was going to commemorate this pleasing state of affairs with a Top Ten songs to Play While Taking Down the Monarchy or something, but I could only really think of the Sex Pistols' "God Save the Queen" and the Smiths' "The Queen is Dead," and celebrating Australian independence from the British Empire with a list of songs by English artists doesn't seem quite appropirate. Still, as ardent a Republican as I am, I can't imagine much of musical worth could be wrought from anti-monarchy (or, for that matter, pro-monarchy) views. So let's ignore all that and do something else.

It was this or a picture of Kevin Spacey. I made my choice and I'm sticking with it.

It's been a while since we last spoke (my computer's been broke), so let's ease back into this blogging shit with what the kids out there call a "meme." So called because me, me, it's all about me. I've been tagged by Lil' Weiss, and I believe the ettiquette of the internets requires me to do the following:

"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they're listening to."

Now, I ain't going to tag anyone, because I fear the rejection of them ignoring me (who knew I was so insecure?), but if you read this blog and feel like playing, leave a comment with a link to your blog, and we'll pretend I tagged you to begin with.

Though if I must tag some people, I instruct the following to all participate: Barack Obama; Paul Krugman; Pete Wentz; Kanye West; John Darnielle; Tom Breihan; Peter Hartcher. I expect each and every one of them to respond.

1. Paul Kelly - Big Heart

I'm not sure the anatomical analysis really justifies Paul Kelly's conclusion, but I can certainly get behind his diagnosis as an aorta-tugging hook: "Your big heart's gonna break your little body." I've been listening to his great late '80s albums Gossip and Under the Sun (from which this song comes) lately, and "Big Heart," though not thematically exceptional, keeps pulling me back. He encompasses so much on these records: politics, Australiana, a distinctly blue collar take on life and relationships, but the compassion he injects into this song makes it one of the most striking on these albums. It's an uncomplicated country-rock tune, but the mere fact that Kelly sounds like he cares so much makes it extraordinarily affecting.

2. Lil' Wayne - Open Shop

Things Lil' Wayne's quite excellent new album lacks: Develop production, Mack Maine guest spots, generic trap talk. Now, I understand most people will respond to that complaint with a perhaps justified, "yeah whatever," and I don't think the album necessarily suffers from its lack of any of those things. But both Develop and Mack Maine have been distinctive parts of Lil' Wayne's fiercly Southern identitiy, as opposed to his drugged-out eccentric, best rapper alive or hottest new radio star identities. I think Southern Wayne is my favorite one, and it's why I might even like Tha Carter II even more than Tha Carter III

The most obviously impressive thing about Wayne's recent material has been his insanely unhinged space rap, and yes, "Dying" was my favorite song in 2007, and when he does that shit well, he does it very well. It's a big part of the reason I've had Tha Carter III on repeat since it leaked. Like, I literally can't stop listening to it: It's in my car stereo, and when I thought I was ready to change it today, I took the Get Up Kids Live disc to the car, and just couldn't take the Weezy disc out of the player. But despite my appreciation for his more expansive creative aspects, sometimes I like my Lil' Wayne direct, nasty and dumb. "Open Shop" is the first two, for sure, though it's not as dumb as it might have been.

It's a drug song. Lil' Wayne opens up a shop and sells drugs. Whatever. It allows Develop to do his thing, and when Develop does his thing with Wayne, it always results in effortlessly enjoyable music. The two have a great resume: together, they've created "Fireman," "Make It Work For You" (with Juelz Santana and Young Jeezy) and now "Open Shop." Develop's sparse, banging synthetics are excellent complements to Lil' Wayne's cracking sneer, and together the two are extraordinarily adept at creating a very specific form of trap rap, and so with enviable consistency. In this song, Develop shoves his drum machine up against a tinny, rolling bass line, creating the hip hip version of the indulgently trashy aesthetic of the Kills or the Yeah Yeah Yeahs or the Libertines. Mack Maine describes it in his verse as "drug music ... rock 'n' roll, hip hop, thug music/heart-missin' no love music." Which is accurate: as well as being utterly cold, it has a good amount of rock 'n' roll in its hip hop swagger.

And Mack Maine more than excels on this song. He's the best of Lil' Wayne's next generation Cash Money MCs (and Curren$y definitely is showing some potential), and his verse on this song outclasses Wayne. Maine emits grimy boasts like "We smash daughters/Smoke and drink tap water": unpoetic scene-setting that nonetheless sounds fantastic. Brisco was the only New Orleans local to guest on Tha Carter III, and though he gets in a good line about being higher than gas prices (side note: I'm paying approx US$6 a gallon for gas, America. If you don't like $4 a gallon gas, send me some!) I would rather Mack Maine had got the spotlight.

3. Martina McBride - Independence Day

The narrative device driving this song is the American Revolution, and the annual celebration thereof, but it doesn't actually have much to do with the song. It's used as a setpiece; young Martina heads to the fairgrounds on the 4th of July her mom finally snaps and gives her abusive husband whatfor. But rather than the aggressive assertion of freedom at the core of the U.S. Revolution, Martina's mother, and Martina herself, are passive characters in the action. And while the biblical reference in the chorus is to Jesus' resurrection ("roll the stone away"), this track is firmly Old Testament in its outlook. It isn't a story of a wronged woman's revenge like the Dixie Chicks' "Goodbye Earl" or Miranda Lambert's "Gunpowder and Lead." It's a song about sinners being punished.

McBride sings that she'd went off to the Independence Day festivities after her drunken father started beating on her mother, and when she gets back, her house is on fire, and she is sent away to live at a "County Home." We don't quite know what happens to her father, but the song's finality, referring to the torching of the family home as "Independence Day" certainly hints that he was killed, perhaps even burned alive inside the house. It's a horrible end, one even worse than what the man deserved: "Let the guilty pay," as McBride sings. This is the act of a vengeful god, not the forgiving one who was said to have been reborn on Easter Sunday.

The song is dominated by passive sentences. "Let the weak be strong"; "let the right be wrong." And the mother is a passive character. She gets beaten, and she frees herself by letting a fire drive her abuser away. She doesn't wait for him with a loaded shotgun like Miranda Lambert does in "Gunpowder and Lead." And by doing so, she loses her daughter. It's a sad end for the character, and it's hard to see her as an active figure in the song. Rather, she's an instrument for an act of God. The true victory in this song is not, like the American Revolution, that of the oppressed over an oppressor; it's the victory of right over wrong, and it's a meagre, hollow victory. Some of the characters may be better off, but no one has really won. For a song centered on such a valued American holiday, it's surprisingly grim.

OK guys. I've done it before, please don't make me do it no more. I'll finish this off some other time