Dan Mangan is making life very difficult for me these days.
I have approximately 3,759 new cds piled up on the dining room table that need a proper listening to, and yet I keep craving Mangan's newish album Nice Nice Very Nice. I find myself without fail sneaking it out of the house with me as I head out to my listening studio, aka the urban assault vehicle. Dan is my new singalong partner these days, riding shotgun through the mean streets of Lake Bonavista.
His gruff voice with the breaky bits has the power to rip my heart to shreds. His observances of the sweet sorrows and the painful glories of everyday life elevate the tiny details of our existence into something kinda sublime. Dan Mangan's voice has the world weary raspiness of an old soul trapped in a young man. And I am still kicking myself for not dragging myself out to his concert last month. Damned eye surgery.
Today I embarrassed myself whilst running errands by bursting into tears when I was listening to this song. It does absolutely nothing to increase the comfort level of the other drivers when they see you sniffling away behind the wheel and wiping your eyes with a stupid grin on your face. Perhaps best not listened to in the throes of an existential predicament.
Even if you think you have not heard Dan Mangan before, you may have heard this song. I'm not certain if Robots is getting any radio play outside the CBC, but it sure seems to be on everybody's radar these days. And with good reason. You've got to stick around for the handclappy singalong toward the end. Just trust me on that.