In college, I dated this hippie chick for a few weeks. Let me rephrase that. I dated this girl who hung out with a whole lot of hippies. Let me step back, try again. Heather was in this sort of “frat for hippies,” a hyper-inclusive student organization that was granted specific housing and whose members weren’t all that big into bathing. But my God, were they ever big into Poi Dog Pondering.
I think it’s because Poi Dog was a mostly acoustic band with like 25 people in it. In that way, they were similar to the Polyphonic Spree, only sonically soaking up the shadow of early R.E.M. rather than the Flaming Lips. (Camper Van Beethoven might be a good parallel, too, for the uninitiated. But anyway.) Organic instruments aside, with the Pondering clan, the hippie proof was strongest in the lyrical pudding. Check the forced, crack-o-dawn whimsy in this chorus: “Breakfast, good morning everybody / Sun’s up, have a slice of toast and jelly.” It’s giddy, it’s silly, it’s what less sensitive folks would call “gay.” Accordingly, my rock ‘n’ roll friends back home hated it.
But talk about perfect timing. Freshman year I privately mourned the idea that my mom was no longer part of my morning routine. But sophomore year, I was having breakfast with THESE FINE PEOPLE! They fed me cigarettes and loaned me Camille Paglia! They loved and accepted EVERYONE! To be honest, all the inclusiveness was suspect and creepy, but if they were a cult, it was a cult with a loving embrace, and “Toast and Jelly” was their Dream cast in Sound. And besides, what’s wrong with an overt blast of happiness? I’ll bet this was what Stipe was going for with “Shiny Happy People,” only he overshot the goal by three chords and two minutes. Sweet!
On Poi Dog’s debut, “Pulling Touch” directly follows “Toast and Jelly,” and its easy strum and boy/girl harmonies flow in direct opposition to the former’s group-chorus and jump rhythm. Accordingly, this song was (though Heather wouldn’t know it now or anything) “ours.” After all, I might have breakfasted with THE CULT, but I awoke to Heather alone. Still, “Pulling Touch” doesn’t score any lower on the lyrical crunch-o-meter, serving up the cloyingly sensual imagery of a hippie in love: “Are you the cup that I hold by the cheekbones? / I pull you close and I drink you up.” Can’t you just smell the incense? Can’t you FEEL the 10:30 class you’re blowing off to snuggle?
Wow, it sounds like I don’t like this music. (And for the record, I am being totally inaccurate in depicting Heather as any kind of “hippie.” She bathed frequently, and was totally cool, and so were her friends. So there.) Fact is, when either of these songs make their way to my headphones, I smile. In a vacuum, I’m sure this music wouldn’t fall into my heart as easily as it did under those circumstances. But that’s the point–there’s never a vacuum. The music grafts itself into the fabric of memory like patchouli infusing a sweater. (Sorry.) But seriously–that Poi Dog Pondering record was a part of her, and so of course I wanted it to be a part of me. And luckily, it still is.
