196. Song No. 2,941: “El Capitan,” Idlewild
Warnings/Promises, 2005

I’m a sucker for an irresistibly anthemic tune, and really, how much more triumphant can you get than besting-the-mountain metaphors?

Still, I hate writing about songs when I don’t have much more to say than “OMFG I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH” but there are always worthy exceptions. Especially when they involve bands my BFF both introduced me to and saw with me.

Much like any winding, ascending mountainous terrain, this song navigates its way through a range of richly nuanced territory: the uncertainty of existential crossroads; a deep-rooted sadness that even summiting personal goals can’t overcome; the futility of living in a two-dimensional past as embodied by gazing too long and getting too lost in lifeless photographs; eschewing the ordinary in the process of knowing yourself better amidst the struggle of railing against the easy ways; the self-actualizing victory of choosing your own way to use your life up. The lyrics tell a tale of inner growth that, like the melody, builds and expands as the song hurdles toward its conclusion.

The mostly repetitious closing quartet of lyrical stanzas begins with a return to bare-bones musical accompaniment that both alludes to the twinkly intro it rode in on and nods to the internal journey that propels the tapering coda toward its end with a resounding crescendo that’s both a fitting capstone and demonstrative showcase of just how much the narrator has surmounted in nearly four improbably expansive minutes of music.