Song Of The Week - "Let's Go" - Matt & Kim

Confession: I never made it all the way through Matt & Kim’s 2010 album Sidewalks. Actually, come to think of it, I’m not sure I even made it past the third track. Anyways, the point is that whatever I did make it through, I don’t remember all that well. The general impression I retain is that the whole album felt over-produced—too slick to have come from the DIY dance punk duo from Grand Street, whose sophomore album was full of exuberant, lo-fi pop music.

Unfortunately, “Let’s Go,” the first single off Matt & Kim’s fourth album Lightning, to be released at some point this fall, does not represent a return to their cruder, more diverting days. It’s a little more spry-sounding than their last effort, but it still lacks the vital punch of “Daylight” or “Good Ol’ Fashioned Nightmare.” Those songs both had hooks to kill for and were—let’s be honest—the saving grace of an album that might otherwise have been considered a little forgettable. In the years since the release of that album, I’ve had several conversations about how good “Daylight” is, one or two about “Good Ol’ Fashioned Nightmare,” and exactly zero about anything else on the album. Regrettably, I can barely comment on any other track save for Kim’s frenetic drum hits on “Lesson Learned.”

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It doesn’t help the case for "Let's Go" that the main vocal hook is ripped straight out of the Earth, Wind, and Fire songbook. Never mind that dozens of other artists have taken stabs at rewriting that famous “oohing” section—the song practically begs for emulation—but I can’t but help have the feeling that other artists have done it better. (See Jenny Owen Youngs’s song “Already Gone” on her latest album An Unwavering Bend Of Light [hint: it comes in the chorus].) For Matt & Kim, it's just a clunky reference—my brother made a case for cryptomnesia on Matt & Kim’s part, but how could a Williamsburg-based hipster duo pass up the ironic funk reference?—that comes off sounding less like emulation and more like parasitism.

And what about the lyrics? In terms of “Daylight,” I found the nonsense lyrics generally charming. I’ve heard stories that Matt constructs lyrics based on a journal of scribblings kept by Kim—most of it nonsense to begin with, which he then wraps in even more nonsense by tossing odd bits and pieces incongruously together. Not only does that explanation make perfect sense, it adds a silly, sophomoric jubilation to the lyrics:

And in the daylight we can hitchhike to Maine.

I hope that someday I’ll see without these frames.

And in the daylight I don’t pick up my phone,

because in the daylight anywhere feels like home.

The lines reference Maine, hitchhiking, the wearing of glasses, ignoring phone calls, and the lazy problem of daylight. While it might be fun and most certainly is silly, I'm not sure it means anything. I’m tempted to make some sort of post-lyric, collagist attempt at justifying the inane lyrics, but it wouldn’t amount to much. There’s a way to read the lyrics as a reflection of a weird kind of cuddly, Brooklyn-based domesticity, but that’s about all I can get from it.

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The problem is that these kind of lyrics are a one-trick-pony kind of deal. They pulled it off once—memorably, absurdly, catching-ly—with “Daylight,” but part of me can’t allow them a second go-round. Or a third. Or a fourth. Let’s have a look at the second verse of “Let’s Go”:

I bought a megaphone

to use inside your home,

forgot the batteries,

but that’s the old me.

It’s a hideously composed thought. What is Matt/Kim trying to say? ('Does it have to say anything?' I hear the peanut gallery whispering.) I dare you to read something into this (comment below…). Later on, in the outro section of the song, Matt repeats the same lines over and over again:

Say what you wanna say,

make it mean everything.

Oh, Matt…dreaming of the impossible. There are some people who make a convincing argument for language to supersede meaning and mean everything, but I’m not ready to cede that power to an indie-pop darling. (Maybe Thom Yorke could make me feel that way?) Sorry, Matt—if you want to win, your words should at least mean something.