Every time I feel sad and worthless, sitting in my apartment and counting all my regrets, I put this song on. To me, the Weakerthans’ “Plea From a Cat Named Virtute,” is the perfect anthem for getting back up and shaking yourself off, even if it is sung from the perspective of an animal that spends most of it’s time lying around aimlessly. Now, I don’t know if it’s especially healthy to relate your own self-worth to another being in your life, but knowing I have another creature’s life in my hands is impetus enough to temporarily shake off the cloud of depressive self-pity that pops up every once in a while.
Personification never moved me until I heard this song. “Why are these rabbits fighting? Why do these pigs and sheep care which legs they walk on?” Those books always felt like the required reading they were. But the realization that my cat could be singing these lyrics to me is enough to shake out the cobwebs of depressive introspection for just a minute. Even if I’m just picking up a piece of string and dangling it around, “Plea” has motivated me to get up more than any other clichéd “keep on livin’” anthem sung from the perspective of a basic ass human.
Virtute’s indictments, “all you ever want to do is drink and watch TV,” are like an antidote for the recently dumped. Things are never going to get better if you wallow in your own emotional filth, and doing so runs the risk of your cat biting you.
If there’s one thing I despise, it’s those whose self-pity becomes so cancerous that it envelops whatever is around them. This song prevents me from giving into that cancer. And if you don’t believe my cat is that great of a cat, just check my Instagram.
Pitchfork: The album is just called LP1, which seems to suggest that there may be some kind of coherent series to come.
T: Well, I don’t know what I’m doing, so I’m not going to give it some sort of grand name. But on the opening song, “Preface”, I sing a quote by a poet called Wyatt: “I love another, and thus I hate myself.” It’s inscribed into the vinyl. So it’s called LP1, but, for me, that quote is the subtitle—you could apply that line to anything in my life for the past two years.
I love my music, so I want to produce, write, and serve my music. I’ve had to learn about EQ frequencies, and programming, and space, and clutter, and how to be a better piano or bass player, everything. You can have big aspirations, but then you realize your skill level or your insecurities are holding you back. So you start to hate yourself, because it’s so frustrating!
Or it could also be referring to a lover: When you love someone you give them everything, but then they turn out to be a dick, and everything gets chucked back in your face. Then you’re insecure, paranoid, and jealous, and you’re obsessed over that person. It’s one massive head game because you’re like, “Who am I now?” You feel like this shriveled-up Gollum-like creature. And then you hate yourself because you’re trying so hard and it’s just not working. That’s what my album’s about.
Released almost a year ago on his “Law 2” mixtape, Shy Glizzy’s “Gudda” has been in constant headphone rotation since I first heard it. “Gudda” opens with the ominous synth-stabs and bells courtesy of producer Beezy, before segueing into the song’s gleefully nihilistic chorus.
Glizzy’s sneering high-voice is perfect for the sing-songy anthem in which he explains his penchant for bad behavior: “Motherfuck a hoe/ shoot a bitch n***a/ call a girl a bitch, well I ain’t got a sista.” Referencing the song’s namesake, he gives the reason, “I come from the gudda, where nobody love ya.”
Chorus alone, “Gudda” is just about as perfect of a rap song I can think of, embodying everything incendiary and youthful about the music, while maintaining a sly, sadistic sense of humor for those refusing to be offended. Glizzy continues his stride in the verse, shouting out his hood and proclaiming his legitimacy from an early age: “I’ve been goin’ hard/since Pokemon cards,” before referring to his initial internet beef with Chicago rapper Chief Keef.
Things only improve with the Kevin Gates verse as the Baton Rouge rapper rapidly cycles through various illegal activities, which culminate with him at a “Bistro, eatin’ cheesecake.” It’s pretty standard rap fair, but Gates’ is such an astutely, talented rapper, he could describe a day where he just washes his dog, and it still wouldn’t be out of place in this tremendously enjoyable song.
1. Should the Cavs trade Wiggins to acquire Kevin Love?
2. Would Kevin Love like the weather in Cleveland?
3. What number jersey would Kevin Love wear on the Cavs?
-Nate Thurmond’s number 42 was retired in 1977
4. Will Kevin Love be the next Nate Thurmond?
5. Would Kevin Love be Lebron’s friend?
6. Will Anderson Varejao’s hair end up in Kevin Love’s mouth in practice?
7. What if Kevin Love forgets how to play basketball?
8. Would Lebron help make Andrew Wiggins a great basketball player?
9. What if a dog played with Lebron? Would that dog be a really good basketball player?
10. Why did Dan Gilbert agree to a sign-in-trade for a dog?