202. Song No. 3,072: “Everlasting Arms,” Vampire Weekend
Modern Vampires of the City, 2013

Even my tragic history with bassists can’t deny that catchy-as-fuck bass line laid down as the inviting introduction to a song that took a few listens and little research for my heathen ass to start making sense of all its religious imagery and identifiers, none of which I was expecting to be so densely packed into this true second-chance tune that, honestly, really just grabbed me with the number of unconscious head bops and toe taps I’ve unknowingly sacrificed at its funky altar.

This is one of those songs that filled itself in listen by listen, its impossibly attention-grabbing musicality laying some mighty impressive groundwork that could have been accompanied by nonsensical placeholder lyrics and still be one infinitely listenable and danceable little ditty.

I think I’ve made my aversion to all things even remotely religious abundantly clear; “Everlasting Arms” being part of an album that’s unexpectedly rich with the trappings of religion and its symbolism is also evidence that maybe obtuse iconography and heavily veiled invocations of spirituality set against gleefully received earworms are the spoonful of sugar that helps nonsecular lyrics go down, as far as my stomach for themes of theology is concerned.

I will admit, though, that “I hummed the ‘Dies Irae’ as you played the Hallelujah” is a wonderful bit of emotional imagery that, okay, fine, understanding the reference of added some unexpected depth and heaviness to a tune that got me hooked simply because it sounds freaking fun as hell. Like, this is the kind of song that adds a little flair to whatever mundane things it is that you’re doing as background accompaniment, whether it’s dancing your way through domestic chores, putting a bounce in your step on the walk to pick up lunch or your steering wheel doubling as a makeshift drum in standstill rush-hour traffic. While I’m sure religion adds that same splash of color to ordinary days for the godlier folk among us mortals, I’ll take eternal, hot-poker’d damnation if it means I get that same dopamine rush from a truly excellent musical addiction that’s a welcome guest making itself at home in the dilapidated temple where my brain wallows in a miasma of gin and pot smoke.