89. Bran Van 3000, "Drinking in L.A." (1998)

(listen)

I picked this off a CMJ anthology CD, or rather it leaped out at me, back when that indie industry magazine was retooled for consumer consumption and kept us 20 or so songs behind on a monthly basis. I don't like much else by the act, and there are things to nitpick about here—the awkward use of the word "bubkes" usually makes me wince, and the casual references to a post-Tarantino Los Angeles culture of screenplay production are painfully over-baked. But there are many more things to like, and the surprising overall effect is to transport me to a sad place I barely understand. I was well past 26 by the time this came around, I have never lived in Los Angeles, and I think a fair question is what the hell else would you be doing in L.A. at 26 but drinking? Nevertheless since I first heard it I have found myself fascinated with all the little intricacies of the thing, even as the inexplicable waves of sadness crash down: the smug morning radio disc jockeys hyping "the Bran Van concert," the Snoop Dogg fillip, the dense wallop of the production, the soaring vocals on the chorus. The sadness keys in for me early, when one of the jocks says, "Give us a ring-ding-ding. It's a beautiful day," and something about that puts me instantly in mind of grinding commutes to soulless jobs, something to which way too much of our lives is dedicated and for which I suppose Los Angeles is uniquely appropriate. Followed immediately by gorgeous, soul-saving (if arguably shallow) music, ever the flipside of the grinding commute. Even if tomorrow you're just going to have to do it all over again, at least there's a song to help.