YA Review: Love, Hate and Other Filters by Samira Ahmed

In Love, Hate and Other Filters, Samira Ahmed creates a believable set of characters. Maya Aziz longs to go to film school in New York, but her parents are determined for her to study law or medicine closer to home in Chicago. Maya harbours a secret crush on Phil, a jock from her school, while her mum and dad think Kareem, a fellow Muslim, is far more suitable. Things are complicated enough for Maya even before a Muslim-American sharing her last name is accused of committing a local terrorist attack. 

For me, this book split into two quite different sections. The first half, in which Maya finds herself in something of a love triangle, was familiar in its use of YA contemporary tropes, although the importance of the cultural differences displayed gives the book a more unique perspective. Somewhat inevitably given its high profile in 2017 and similar subject matter, this first part reminded me a lot of When Dimple Met Rishi; not in a negative way at all, I hasten to add, as both these books are hugely important and, aside from that, plain good reads.

The second half, in which Maya confronts more obvious racism as well as the overwhelming fears of her parents, creates a very stark contrast, which I initially found discombobulating, although this did help me to empathise with Maya’s feelings of shock and fear. It’s a brave move in a YA novel, perhaps one made possible by the huge success of Angie Thomas’ THUG. I love that we have books dealing with these kinds of issues in YA. It’s so important and so valuable.

Overall, Love, Hate and Other Filters was an interesting and involving read. I didn’t always feel much affection for the characters, but I empathised with the huge conflicts, both internal and external, that Maya faces. More politically minded YA will always be welcome.

David Nilsen and I Discuss Grace by Jeff Buckley

 More 90s nostalgia today as David Nilsen and I discuss Grace by Jefd Buckley, which is quite clearly not the 304th best album of all time.

Katy Goodwin-Bates: Should we just start by saying that Grace is possibly the most beautiful album of ever and then spend the rest of the chat riffing about scones or something? I listened to the whole thing from start to finish last night and was in an ecstatic stupor by Forget Her. I just read that Rolling Stone named Grace the 304th best album of all time. 304! As if there are 303 albums that are even comparable, never mind better!

David Nilsen: I like when we start with rants and then go from there.

Also, any conversation about scones between us would probably devolve into a semantic debate about what, in fact, a scone is.

Katy: Not that again. International relations are bad enough.

David: Right? So. Grace.

Katy: Definitely one of my top 5 albums ever.

David: It’s in my top 20, probably. It’s beautiful. Truly remarkable.

Also, while the music doesn’t feel dated to the 90s in the way some of the other albums we’ve discussed have, this still feels like an album that couldn’t happen today. Feels uniquely of its era, though I struggle to explain why.

Katy: I thought the same thing. Part of it, I think, is his voice, which I can’t imagine hearing as a new sound today; it’s got a weird timeless quality that actually makes if feel like it doesn’t belong in any era. If you compare to him the male singer-songwriters of 2017, he sounds totally different; I thing the same applies to your much-loved Elliott Smith, actually. Both achieve a level of emotion which I think the Sheerans and Jonases of this world could only dream of.

David: Maybe it’s a type of earnest emotional sincerity that feels like it broke out just before irony became king?

Katy: Absolutely. You’ve just phrased my own thought far more eloquently than I did.

David: I think Elliott could still happen today, but you’re right on Buckley. His voice is…something. I think that struck me more than anything on this listen, though I’ve listened to the album countless times over the year. His voice is an instrument all its own.

Katy: I read that he has the same vocal range as Pavarotti. Apparently this is very rare.

David: The only current male singer I feel like can possibly do comparable things (though not the exact same) is Sufjan Stevens.

His upper range really is something. It isn’t even a falsetto. He can belt out those high notes.

Katy: I think of Grace as very operatic so this fact pleases me a lot. It sounds so effortless though, doesn’t it? There’s no strain in his voice at all. Really all other singers must have hated him.

David: Operatic is a good word. I hadn’t thought of that, but it’s apt.

Katy: He manages to make it really natural and subtle though. There are amazing vocal gymnastics on Grace but it never sounds like he’s just showing off. If you imagine Mariah Carey singing those songs, it’s a whole other terrifying story.

David: Hey, whatever else we say about Mariah, we have to acknowledge that voice. I’d show off with it too.

Katy: True.

The vocals on Grace kill me, to be honest. It’s one of the few albums that makes me aware of every note. There’s only one song on it I don’t particularly like (Corpus Christi Carol) but even that is lovely to listen to. It’s devastating that this was his only proper album.

David: Truly.

So how did you come to this album?

Katy: To be honest, I don’t actually know. Around 2002 I had a kind of taste renaissance and became the discerning music snob I remain to this day, and Grace was one of the albums I caught up on at that time. I remember buying it on CD and playing it constantly in the kitchen at the Pizza Hut where I worked part-time while at uni until my manager told me the customers were concerned by all the wailing. I assume this referred to my attempts to sing along rather than Jeff’s astonishing vocal range.

How about you?

David: That’s an excellent back story.

I don’t remember either. It was definitely in adulthood, and probably no more than 10 years ago. I think (sheepishly) I probably heard his cover of Hallelujah first. I’ve had the vinyl for a while.

Katy: I think I heard Hallelujah first too; I believe it featured on an episode of The OC and that is most likely what made me buy the album.

I don’t think we should be sheepish about this.

David: We’ll get to Hallelujah in time, I guess. Shall we start on the songs?

Mojo Pin.

Katy: Such a statement of intent! This song goes through so many phases. It is like a very angsty musical rollercoaster. I love the quiet-loud-quiet thing. It’s so mid-90s. Probably the only “typical” thing about this album.

David: Yes. One thing that struck me with this song and something that continues throughout the album, is the structure. They’re almost architectural in their assembly. They work through movements and have distinct phases, like you said. That’s probably what makes them operatic, like you were describing. What makes that all the more remarkable is that they are so emotional. These songs are controlled and structured, but bleed with feeling despite their precision and planning.

Katy: All true, yet with an experimental edge too. It’s like he and the band suddenly think “let’s try this!” and the songs shift in a direction you don’t expect. Mojo Pin is a great contradiction to the more overtly emotional songs too; it’s quite a shock if you’re expecting an album of Hallelujahs.

David: It’s the perfect opening for the breadth of what’s coming.

Katy: Like an overture at the theatre, to continue that metaphor.

David: Nice. I like that.

Katy: Then Grace builds on that sweep from delicate to big and loud. I am obsessed with the “oooooohhhhhh” bits in that song.

David: Content aside, “Mojo Pin” is an extremely 1990s song title.

Katy: Future discussion: ultimate 90s song titles.

David: Real quick before Grace, apparently there is some debate about whether or not Mojo Pin is about speed, or about a dream Buckley had about a black woman.

And yes to that bookmarked discussion.

Katy: Really? Sometimes I think it’s better to just not know this stuff.

David: You’re probably right, but sometimes I can’t help it.

Katy: I basically never think about what songs are about because I am very self-involved and like to make them all about me.

David: With that, we can move on to Grace.

Katy: Thank you.

David: This is another song that shows off everything that makes this album so great. His voice, the guitar, those rapid but precise drums.

Katy: It is another brilliantly structured song with wonderful build-up. The lyrics to this read like bad teenager poetry though. I think I will stick to just listening.

David: Yes. That is consistent, I think, and fits with the earnest 90s sincerity of the album’s emotion. Musically, it works. Lyrically, sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t.

There is so much emotion in this song.

Katy: It’s a testament to the astounding nature of the music that you can listen to this song for 15 years and not notice the silly lyrics.

David: Well, that and his enunciation is sometimes obscured in the sonic complexity of the music.

Katy: Especially at the end when there’s all the somehow very beautiful screaming.

David: There’s a possibility, probably best left unexplored, that Jeff Buckley was an insufferable emo kid before there was emo.

Katy: He was definitely an emo. This makes me like him even more

Please can we talk about Last Goodbye because I love that song enough to marry it.

David: It’s incredible.

That “Kiss me. Please kiss me.”

god.

Katy: It’s the first song on the album with a really coherent narrative, and it’s so tragic and gorgeous. Yes, that line gets me too, especially the “out of desire not consolation” part. That makes up for any previous lyrical lapses.

David: For sure. It feels like a break from the first two songs. More melodic?

Katy: Definitely. I feel like he’s saying ‘ok, now that I’ve got your attention, here’s where I make you all fall in love with me.”

David: Totally. I think we all agree to do whatever he tells us by the time he hits that chorus.

Katy: Incidentally, if he’d been born 20 years later, he’d be a totally different artist, don’t you think? A major label would not release something this weird (because in a lot of ways it is) from such a good-looking guy. They’d want mass appeal and a Twitter presence and it would be horrible. In many ways, we are all lucky Grace came out when it did because, aside from it’s sonic appeal, it’s the kind of music that you’d struggle to find now, I think.

David: I think he’d be a Sufjan type. Sufjan is weird as fuck, and I see a lot of similarities between them.

Katy: I suppose Grace didn’t have massive commercial success in ‘94 so perhaps it wouldn’t make that much difference. I just think massive sacrifices would have to be made with the music once a label realised the guy singing it was such a dreamboat.

Shall I tell you about my Jeff Buckley pilgrimage?

David: While you’re doing that, I’ll continue my Sufjan thought. There is sexual ambiguity around both of them, I think. Buckley seems like one of the first male musicians of the last couple decades who straight guys could be like “Yeah, he’s attractive” about. He’s like emo Elvis.

Katy: Let’s start a band called Emo Elvis.

I am not overly familiar with Sufjan so I will just defer to your wisdom.

David: Katy, you must listen to Sufjan. He’s among my 10 favorite musicians. Listen to Carrie & Lowell or Come On Feel the Illinoise.

Katy: I will do this. I promise. He’s never really had a moment over here, although he is name-checked in a Snow Patrol song.

David: Sufjan?

Katy: Yes. In the song Hands Open. I just checked it wasn’t something I’ve been mishearing for years.

I have little to say of Lilac Wine except to sigh and melt in its utter loveliness.

David: It turns out this is actually a cover, which I probably should have known. It was written by James Shelton and covered by Nina Simone, and now I need to hear that version, because she is divine.

Fun fact: my wife’s niece is named Nina Symone in her honor.

Katy: I like that.

David: Me too.

So Real then.

This is one of those songs where it’s best to just ignore the lyrics, because they’re kind of overwrought. The emotions are more evocative when you hear him singing about how real that was, before you know he’s just talking about these super basic images.

Katy: Funnily enough, I just looked up the lyrics and wished I hadn’t. Sonically it has that overwrought vibe that we’ve mentioned in some of the other songs, and I like that.

David: He makes it work, but it teeters right on the edge of being too much. He rides that line perfectly.

Katy: And then you get the opposite with Hallelujah, which is so beautifully controlled.

David: God. I don’t even know where to start.

Katy: So many versions of that song go overboard. This is the proper version for me.

David: I guess we need to address the fact that this might be the most over-covered song in history. It’s one of the most beautiful songs ever written, and yet it’s almost become this cliche. There are, in my opinion, three truly great versions: Cohen’s own, this one, and Rufus Wainwright’s.

Katy: This was the first I heard (sadly, I think when it was featured on The OC), so for me it’s the standard. This is probably wrong when it’s a Leonard Cohen song, but never mind. A boy at school once sang it so horribly I was honestly traumatised.

David: It’s just been done too much. We need to issue a moratorium on covering this song for the next 20 years. Then, maybe, someone can give it another crack. It’s to the point where even artists I like annoy me when they try it. Just…why? Do you think you’ll honestly bring something new to it?

Also, I might have you beat on where I first heard this: Shrek.

Katy: I love this fact.

David: Handle it wisely. In my defense, I was 19 when Shrek came out, and that’s about the right age to fall in love with this song.

Katy: I am not judging you. I promise. I remember listening to it on CD for the first time and even from the breath at the beginning I thought “now, this is something special.”

David: I love what he does with the rhythm of the individual phrases and inflections, adjusting them just enough so you have to really pay attention to them.

And those opening guitar notes. My heart.

Katy: This version is probably one of my favourite songs. It’s just so lovely. All so gentle and tragic.

David: Absolutely. I can have trouble sometimes blocking out the cultural baggage we’ve discussed with the prevalence of this song, but taken on its own, absolutely. It’s just perfect songwriting, and Buckley performs it perfectly.

Katy: Lover You Should Have Come Over.

Possibly the perfect song?

David: It’s very good. I like how it builds, but unlike some of the earlier songs, it never gets operatic. It stays perfectly restrained.

Katy: And it’s one of the songs on which the lyrics are actually quite beautiful. “Too young to hold on, too old to just break free and run” is one I particularly love.

And the bit about a kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder; that makes me die a little bit.

David: Yeah, that is nice. This might be his best song lyrically.

So tell me your thoughts about Corpus Christi Carol.

Katy: My thoughts are usually “skip.” It’s a bit too much for me.

David: I get that, but I like a lot of things about it. First of all, his goddamn voice. It’s just so pretty. How does one even have a voice like that?

The song doesn’t really fit on the album, but taken on its own, it’s quite lovely and haunting.

I love the back story for it too. Apparently a friend introduced him to the song in high school, so he just wanted to sing it for him. it doesn’t fit at all, and that’s kind of what I like about it.

Katy: That is a nice way for it to come to be on the album.

David: I have a friend who was driving home from a New Years Eve party late one snowy evening, and this song came on his college radio station. It feels like the perfect weird thing to have come on at that moment, like the b-side to Auld Lang Syne.

Katy: I get that. I agree that it doesn’t fit, but you’re right to say it works. It is a pretty eclectic album, which I often forget because I am so inclined to over-listen to the songs I love and not pay much attention to the few I’ve never really connected with.

David: Speaking of not connecting, Eternal Life is probably my least favorite song on the album.

The opening is so faux-tough, and while we’ve agreed to not pay attention to lyrics, these ones are so forced and egregious. It’s like “Racism is bad and I’m real mad about it, guys. You can tell because of the guitars on this song.”

Katy: Oh I quite like Eternal Life. The return of the histrionic rage is quite appealing to me.

David: But it feels like false rage to me. He’s such a romantic, and while I believe him that he thinks racism and war are bad, I believe him a lot more when he’s crying because his girlfriend broke up with him. His emotion here sounds play-acted to me.

Katy: Fair point. I like the contrast between this and Corpus Christi Carol. It seems like something nobody else would attempt, especially in an era when we had to listen to albums properly and without shuffle.

David: Dream Brother is a weird way to end this album.

We have a saying here in Ohio about the month of March: “In like a lion, out like a lamb.” We can get blizzards the first week of March and then be in the 70s with flowers sprouting by the end. This album feels that way. It starts so operatically, and then the song is so chill. It’s a good song, but I think I would have preferred something more grandiose to polish it off.

Katy: Hang on, what about Forget Her? Is that not the last track?

David: Forget Her is not on the original album. There was a bunch of drama about that. He never wanted it included, and so the album didn’t initially, and then he died and his record label was like “fuck his last wishes” and put it on all the subsequent pressings. So my original vinyl version doesn’t have it.

Katy: I did not know that! Dream Brother is really weird. It’s like the overlong noodly track he’d probably play live and that would be when everyone would go to the bar.

Also after our conversation when I boldly said there is no good music any more I have discovered about 8 zillion amazing bands and artists on Spotify. Now I am cool again.

David: Right? So many good bands. I look forward to our post-2000 music discussions which we’ll get to once our kids are in college.

David Nilsen and I Discuss Tragic Kingdom by No Doubt

In the latest of our 90s album discussions, David Nilsen and I tackle No Doubt’s Tragic Kingdom. Don’t worry; this time we agree on stuff. You can also read our previous discussions of albums by Hole, Tori Amos, Oasis, and Garbage.

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David Nilsen: So, Tragic Kingdom.

Katy Goodwin-Bates: Wait. Is that a comment on today’s politics or a reference to the No Doubt album?

David: This is one of the first albums we’ve discussed that I fell hard for as soon as it was released. Through a weird set of circumstances, my religiously sheltered family had cable television starting in 1995. How my parents allowed MTV into the house, I have no idea, but whenever they were out of the house, I watched it non-stop. An unhealthy amount of my sex-ed came from shows like Loveline, Singled Out, and Sex in the 90s. This—along with the local top 40 station I listened to in my room quietly and secretly at night—was also how I kept up with popular music in junior high and early high school (for those younger readers, this was back when MTV played music videos). When “Don’t Speak” came out, I was floored.

Also—I’m just going to be honest here—it began a raging crush on Gwen Stefani that lasted for the next five years of my life.

How did you find the album and the band?

Katy: I am still hoping to be Gwen Stefani when I grow up.

I came to the band and album in basically the same way; Don’t Speak was all over music TV and national radio and became a total anthem. I remember asking for Tragic Kingdom on CD in lieu of an Easter egg in 1996 and my sister being outraged because a CD cost twice as much as a chocolatey treat.

I definitely spent a few lunch breaks at my all girls’ school standing on the tables with the rest of my form and belting out Don’t Speak. Because it was that or Latin homework.

David: That’s a fun mental image. Sounds like something from a movie.

Katy: Also subjected to this treatment: Always by Bon Jovi and I’ll Never Break Your Heart by the Backstreet Boys. We were an eclectic bunch.

David: 1 for 3 isn’t bad, I guess.

Katy: More than any of the other albums we’ve discussed, I feel like Tragic Kingdom has always been with me. It’s one of the albums I feel most familiar with and it’s been with me through everything.

David: Yeah, it’s probably been with me longer than almost any other. Or at least, no album I still love has been with me longer. I found Oasis around the same time, but my feelings about Oasis have definitely changed since then. I still love No Doubt, and this album is still fantastic.

Katy: I feel like it sounds like 1996 but in a profoundly good way.

David: It’s strange the way this album has aged. It does sound like a distinctly 90s album, and yet it doesn’t sound dated at all. You would think with as singular as their sound was it would be super dated, but it isn’t. All the best tracks are still fresh.

Katy: I feel this is partly a reflection on terrible music of 2017 and its preceding years. If everything sounded like Tragic Kingdon the world would be a nicer place.

Which are your favourite tracks?

David: Oh, there is still good music. Come now.

Katy: Go on. Like what?

David: Sufjan Stevens, Perfume Genius, Arcade Fire, The National, Saint Etienne, Allie X, LP, Manita Nerviosas, Father John Misty… How many do I need to list?

Katy: Some that have actually come out in this decade? Saint Etienne are older than me! Also I am worried that Arcade Fire have lost it.

David: Saint Etienne have a new album out.

Katy: But surely you can hardly class them as the sound of 2017?

David: Wait. Does this have to be artists who debuted this year?

Because No Doubt formed in the late 80s. First album was 1992. By that measure, they aren’t the sound of 1995 either.

Katy: BUT Tragic Kingdom was a huge album of 1996. Sadly, 2017 is going to be remembered as the year of Ed Sheeran.

David: 1995.

Katy: I think it came out in 96 over here. Anyway, which songs do you like?

David: Well, let’s start at the beginning. Spiderwebs is a fantastic opening track. Sets the tone both in mood and sound for the entire album.

Katy: I love Spiderwebs too. My cat frequently returns from her outside jaunts covered in actual spiderwebs and I like to serenade her with this song.

David: I feel like this is one of those albums where the singles are consistently the best songs.

Spiderwebs, Just a Girl, Don’t Speak, Sunday Morning…

Katy: Sunday Morning barely sold any copies here and I forgot Spiderwebs was a single.

I have been thinking about our little aside about music in 2017. You are right: obviously there is good music still being made. Here in the UK, at least, the problem is finding it. Mainstream radio (by which I mean BBC Radio One) essentially plays the same three songs all day and just pretends they’re by different people. Or I am getting old. I listen to BBC 6music, which is less mainstream and a lot more alternative, and I do hear great songs every day on there, but they aren’t songs that most people will ever listen to. That was my point about the musical zeitgeist; the artists you mentioned in your rebuttal are all cool and undoubtedly their output remains strong, but—aside from Arcade Fire—they aren’t going to be particularly well-known which, to me, means they won’t be the wider sound of 2017. Everyone I knew in the mid-90s (admittedly, all teenage girls) had Tragic Kingdom and worshipped Gwen Stefani. I don’t see anything that I am inspired by having that effect now. Maybe we just have too much music these days? Do you find that you listen to new music much? By which I mean new bands. My listening is basically divided into: 90s bands; the Strokes and their contemporaries; late 70s punk plus Blondie; gloomy white boy bands, and random female-led groups I seek out on Spotify. I spend a lot of time immersed in nostalgia.

Incidentally, I think you would massively disapprove of my love for some of my favourite bands. I like to pretend I’m cool but it probably isn’t true.

David: I won’t disapprove of you as long as you don’t disapprove of me. I’m over “guilty pleasures.” We’re complicated human beings and we like things that seem contradictory sometimes. I’m a Lana Del Rey fan. I don’t know what to say.

I do try to seek out new music. I haven’t listened to the radio more than half a dozen times in the last 5 years, I bet, so I don’t know much of what’s on there. My assumption is it’s mostly terrible, or at least incredibly repetitive. I look for good tips in magazines or websites. I find Bitch has really good recommendations. I listen to a lot of older stuff too, of course, but I try to have new things on a regular basis to inject life into my listening and make sure I don’t stagnate.

I think you’re right though that the “sound” of 2017 as based on what’s popular or on the radio is going to be depressing and forgettable compared to the popular sounds of 1985 or 1995. Some of that is accessibility. As more music is available to everyone because of the internet, there’s no longer a need to try to push good stuff to the top and be on the top 40. So that shit gets more and more corporate and bland. I think there’s probably more actual good music now, it’s just diversified across so many different media channels that there is no one “sound” that most of the culture recognizes.

As for Tragic Kingdom, it’s really, really good. Going back to my earlier point, it’s unusual for an album that was had such a distinctive sound 20+ years ago to still be fresh today, but it totally is. Maybe that’s why it’s fresh—because it didn’t sound like 1995/6 at the time.

Spiderwebs is such a great opening track. It’s so much fun. So singable and dance-worthy. Great way to open the album. That chorus.

Katy: Agreed. Spiderwebs sounds like nothing else and it’s a great statement of intent for an album that doesn’t really sound like anything else. It’s really joyous.

David: Speaking of statements of intent, Just a Girl is the band’s anthem and spiritual manifesto, right? This is their philosophical core?

Katy: Discovering that song as a 13 year old girl was amazing; I hadn’t been confronted with much in the way of sexism at that point but Just a Girl really lit a fire for me. Sadly, it’s become more of an anthem on a personal level as I’ve grown up (yay, progress), but that doesn’t diminish my joy in hearing it. I love how angry it is, from Gwen’s snarling vocal to the lyrics, especially the arms-in-air exasperation of “lucky me!”

It’s one of my favourite songs of ever.

I love some of the lesser-played tracks too. Different People has always been a big favourite for me and the last two tracks are massive tunes.

I always particularly liked the bit in Different People about the two sisters: “so different yet so the same…it’s rare that two can get along but when they do they’re inseparable.” That sums up my relationship with my sister. Gwen, how did you know?

David: Different Now is really fun, for sure. I like the guitar part in Happy Now? too.

Hey You and The Climb both feel pretty forgettable. Evidenced by the fact I forgot about them till I listened to this again.

Sixteen is great. Feels like the thematic b-side to Just a Girl. Was this a single too? I can’t remember.

Katy: I actually really like The Climb. It’s not the best song ever but I like how it builds and kind of soars.

The B-side of Just a Girl was actually Open the Gate which is (to use a phrase I know you enjoy) a TOTAL BANGER.

David: I’m not sure I know that one.

Katy: You have to look it up. I was obsessed with it.

David: I will do that.

At any rate, I love Sixteen.

And Sunday Morning. This is one of my favorites on the album.

Katy: Sixteen, weirdly, is one of my least favourites on the album. As a teenager I felt like it wasn’t melodic enough to be nice to listen to but at the same time not shouty enough to be a soundtrack to slamming the bedroom door. I mean, I probably didn’t describe it so pretentiously in the mid 90s but that’s what I meant.

I do like Sunday Morning though.

You know, I find it surprisingly difficult to analyse this album. I just enjoy it so much it’s hard to achieve any kind of academic distance. And I feel like I’ve never really been away from it, whereas with the other albums we’ve discussed I’ve had to revisit them and been able to come up with actual thoughts. With Tragic Kingdom my instinct is really just to wave my arms around and shriek over each song.

David: That makes sense.

Have you seen No Doubt in concert? I saw them in 2002 on their Rock Steady tour.

Katy: No! I am now insanely jealous.

David: They rocked. I was on the floor about 20 feet from the stage. And, so, from Gwen Stefani.

Katy: Oh stop. How does her voice sound live?

David: They sounded legitimately good. There wasn’t a drop off.

David: She improvised a few lyrics, which was fun. “Should have thought of that before we kissed” on Ex-Girlfriend got turned into “fucked,” while she flipped off the crowd. I’m sure all the soccer moms who brought their 10 year olds (a lot of them in the stands) were probably less than thrilled.

The Distillers opened, and were fun. Unfortunately, so did Good Charlotte, and they sucked.

Katy: Some interesting conversations were probably had on the drive home.

I LOVE Distillers. I used to listen to them super loud on headphones on the way out of a shitty, soul-destroying office job every day. Everyone else in the lift was terrified of me.

I like to think Gwen inspired a lot of those 10 year olds to start awesome bands. She’s a great rock role model.

David: Right? We can only hope.

Well, we’ve come to Don’t Speak.

Katy: I mean, what can you say about that song? It’s a great big 90s behemoth. I’d go so far as to say it’s bordering on perfection. Gwen manages vulnerability and rage and heartache and the overall effect is to make me wish I had a really painful breakup in my past to relate it to (rather than just a mediocre episode involving a nerdy politics student who just didn’t want a girlfriend). A lot of the big songs from the 90s make me cringe or roll my eyes now (Bittersweet Symphony, I’m looking at you) but Don’t Speak remains perfection. I assume you completely agree with all these reflections.

David: Don’t Speak is damn near sonic perfection. Those opening chords are so warm, and everything about it is…well…

This song is an achievement. It is all the things you said.

It’s really an outlier on the album. This isn’t a “fun” song, or a danceable one, really. It has more in common with baroque 80s power ballads. While far better, it has more in common with Still Loving You by The Scorpions than it does with the rest of the No Doubt sound.

I love the Latin sound to the guitar solo/bridge.

I wonder if Don’t Speak is my favorite radio single of the 90s? I haven’t really thought about it before. It might be. That sounds like something I should probably waste a lot of time figuring out.

Katy: I think great radio singles of the 90s is a whole other epic discussion. Creep would have to be up there.

You’re right about Don’t Speak having a different vibe. Even when they get mellow elsewhere, it’s more of a reggae/ska infused sound whereas Don’t Speak is its own marvellous thing.

Incidentally, are you aware of the No Doubt Christmas song? It is called Oi! To the World and it is a genius.

David: I don’t think I have heard that one. If I have, I’ve forgotten.

As a teenager, I would imagine I was in a band. I would listen to my favorite songs and imagine they were ours and picture being on stage playing them (full disclosure: I still sometimes do this). Don’t Speak was one of our biggest hits.

Katy: I have a playlist on my iPod consisting of all my imaginary band’s songs. This is completely normal.

David: Good. I do too. It’s called “Why Can’t I Be You?” (that is the real, actual name of the playlist).

Katy: I am going to need to know what’s on it.

David: That feels like reading my diary.

So, No Doubt then. “You Can Do It” reminds me of Teena Marie.

Katy: I will need to consult Google to see if I agree with that. Just reading the title has now embedded that song in my brain. I am nodding along. I am pretty sure I look like a crazy person. The hit rate of actual brilliant songs on this album must be better than basically any other record ever.

David: Most people know Teena Marie from the song Lead Me On on the Top Gun soundtrack.

You might hate me for this, but I’m not big on the final three tracks. I feel like the album is maybe a track or two too long.

Katy: Oh no! The final 2 tracks are my favourites. I love the title track; it’s so bombastic and huge. It is No Doubt’s Bohemian Rhapsody.

David: They’re your favorites? On the entire album?

Katy: Let me think about this. Aside from Don’t Speak and Just a Girl, yes. I think so. They must be the tracks I’ve listened to the most. End it on This is on my special playlist of songs my imaginary band plays. So yes, in spite of your obvious incredulity and derision, they are in my top 5 songs on this album. Drops mic.

David: Katy, you dropped your mic. You should probably pick it back up.

Katy: No. The mic stays dropped.

David: Give me a few minutes to listen to these songs again and decide how you’re wrong.

Katy: I will wait.

David: End It On This is fine? I like it because I like No Doubt, but I maintain my position. It’s not a standout for me.

Katy: I like to think of it as a sequel to Don’t Speak. Gwen’s like “you know, halfway through this album I was proper sad about this breakup but now it’s the penultimate track and let’s just finish it already.” Of course, the final track having “tragic” in the title somewhat undermines my theory of the album’s narrative arc.

David: You know, listening with fresh ears to Tragic Kingdom, I think I get what you’re saying. It’s still not in my top 5 for the album, but I totally get where you’re coming from. I never would have thought of the Bohemian Rhapsody comparison, but I think that’s apt. Good call. It has a baroque, disorienting, at times frenzied quality that makes it an appropriate end to the album.

Katy: I think all bands need a Bo-Rhap to call their own. If I ran the music world, that and having an original Christmas song would be requirements. So No Doubt would be top of the class on both counts.