The Listomania I make the lists, you shoot them down. Quid Pro Quo.

133. Death Cab for Cutie – Transatlanticism

There was once a time when we all respected Death Cab.  They had staying potential, raw melodic chops, and clever enough titles to help inspire a generation of “I Believe You But my Tommy Gun Don’t”-s.  It was a solid couple of years for Gibbard’s Boys and their slowly growing indie fan base.  It was the turn of the decade.

Remember when you first got into them?  We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes or Transatlanticism or something later.  Remember when, immediately after that, your jackass friend with slightly thicker glasses than you told you that they really went downhill after whatever album came before the one you liked?  Well, I’m apologizing on behalf of all those shitty friends, myself included.  Sorry to harsh your buzz.  You were right, we’re just jackasses and wanted you to know we were there first.

Here’s the thing.  Just because (insert soon to be out of business magazine name here) ends their infatuation with a group doesn’t mean they suddenly start making bad music.  And, just because your friend who wants to be the fourth clerk in High Fidelity doesn’t listen to Death Cab for Cutie anymore doesn’t mean that their best material hasn't come out in the last couple of years.  Transatlanticism, the album that saw them release their underground tethers is so their best, and this song is essentially a microcosm of their entire career, everything they do well.  It’s unusually long for the band, but they use the extra padding to stuff in a few extra ideas that make the song, well, not boring.  But the kicker is the first 6:30 of the song are really only there to provide the payoff of the last minute, the chorus, the noise, the pulsing undercurrent.  The guitar strings run across hard enough to make fingers bleed.  The inexplicable, faint sound of a space ship landing in the distance.  The whole song is about distance, the far reaches between point A and B, between land masses, between a guy and a girl.  But the most important length of Death Cab’s career is the 7 minute gap between these opening piano chords and the ticking clock, and the crashing finale that proves that nothing matters less than the distance between popular indie taste and what is actually good.