999,981: Bedhead — To The Ground

How odd that a beautiful record famous for causing scene-weary early nineties indie rockers to weep openly upon hearing it for the first time should also contain a relentlessly cheerful song about dying roaches. I hereby challenge the world’s dourest man to refrain from tapping his foot and smiling just a little bit, at the corners of his mouth, when he hears this song’s lilting, countrified lick for the first time. The absence of Bedhead’s usual deep-end wash of hazy guitars suits singer Matt Kadane’s signature low key delivery, giving it more room to breathe. Toward the end the band eases off, briefly striping everything away except for a simple guitar part. The effect invokes chills, but poses a serious risk: when everything comes back in, the listener may be irresistibly compelled to bob his or her head about like an idiot, even while using public transportation. I’ve always thought that professional exterminators must have a hard time keeping their spirits up. Perhaps they just make sure to have this song playing in their headphones when they get the fogger going.