Thing About 2013 - Satin Jackets - "You Make Me Feel Good"
I'd say that I've listened to "You Make Me Feel Good" by Satin Jackets more than any other song this year. Making that assertion most years would be telling, since it'd probably be wrong in a way that could be easily demonstrated. Couldn't tell you what took home that dubious honor last year, but whatever guess I'd make at any given time would probably be off, influenced by imperfect memory or overwhelming nostalgia. So, remarkable that my pick for "song I've listened to the most in 2013" is actually the song that, according to last.fm, I listened to the most in 2013.
No proof to back this up, but it seems rare, tantamount to the illusive 30-30 season in baseball, the alignment of what you feel like you wanted to listen to the most with what you actually listened to. Lord knows we live in a world of white noise, and what we hear certainly doesn't equate with what we want to hear, may not even equate with what we listen to. Those of us who regularly exert agency in the matter are hamstrung by circumstance more often than not, in need of background music that won't get in the way of whatever it is we're trying to accomplish, or songs that set a scene, or that won't offend the sensibilities of guests or neighbors who might be listening in. There's a sinister spectrum at work here, with Grouper on one end and Black Pus on the other, and rare is the diabolical Venn Diagram that should contain an intersection of any consequence. And yet, "You Make Me Feel Good."
So, it has miraculously bridged the gap between circumstance and preference, but that alone certainly doesn't make a piece of music remarkable. Indeed, put this on, and it may come across as simply another pleasant slice of house music in a time where such a thing is a dime a dozen.
Well, house music, they call it, but it's miles removed from "[the] Percolator". It's not a sweaty club, and it's not the space between the headphones and your ear drum - it inhabits idealized places that few of us will ever actually visit. It's the sunset over the Pacific Ocean in a part of California that can't possibly really exist. Palm trees with spigots for mango rum. Slightly burnt colors, brown, orange - maybe this is how people that are really good at surfing feel all the time. If so, as much as surfing seems really dumb to me - there's very little that's less appealing than getting all worked up to go sit out in the hot sun, bobbing, waiting for a wave, sunburns spreading, competing with guys who are more experienced at being relaxed and have bigger arms for something that amounts to the same reflex you show when you're getting on or off a crowded subway car - maybe I should give it a shot.
As to what's actually going on, it's that effortless combination of subtle percussive elements, a little hi hat fill, a reversed snare, a heavily reverbed tom, perfect, and I mean, perfect, vocal samples, that 303 bass, and something that could be a thumb piano but is probably a marimba or something. A symphony in reverb and delay - there's not a lot here that doesn't get spaced out, stretched, repeated, placed in a warm cave. Reverb is the "New York is a character in this film" here, and reverb, being a form of magic has its share of disbelievers. It's a matter of faith, something that can't be handled with facts and thus it's a starter of meaningless arguments. "Is there a place for reverb?" Obviously, yes, and it's here, and by here I mean, absolutely everywhere on tracks like this, because it's all an illusion, though not in the sense that someone is trying to put you into a specific room. It's an illusion of weightlessness and spacial disorientation. There's a flat, dry, four-four kick that keeps you grounded in reality, otherwise you might just float away, chasing the trails of the vocals off into whatever totally impossible space the reverb and delay is conveying.
And if that sounds like something you need to be stoned to appreciate, then perhaps I'm overselling things. This is something you could put on in and H&M, though please, please, really don't do that. Matter of fact, forget I said anything. Just because something works as background music doesn't mean it should be relegated to that status. It's bittersweet every time I hear "Pulling Mussels From the Shell" while walking through my grocery store, and that happens more often than you might think. Once you've heard a song while making mundane purchase decisions in public, it's like seeing a bad video for a song that deserves better, the stink just never quite wears off. "You Make Me Feel Good" should be played often, but it should also be kept close. With a name like "You Make Me Feel Good," it threatens to drift off into meaninglessness and depersonalization at the slightest touch, its charms exposed to a world that would appreciate them, but perhaps not cherish them fully.
But to try and sell a song called "You Make Me Feel Good" as a niche product is, on one hand, ridiculous. Everyone wants to feel good, and those niches, the truly special songs, most often are less about feeling good than feeling unique, feeling emancipated, something deeper than simply good. But I think there's a quote from somewhere, probably a big studio movie from the late 90s, along the lines of what anyone really wants consistently, as a firm part of their life, isn't something mindblowing. To have one's mind blown too often is tiring, exasperating, disarming. When something is good, good to its core, so deeply good that it's nothing else, then you hold on to that. Well, there you have it.
