Jeff Rosenstock
Ska Dream
Over the pandemic, I read a book called In Defense Of Ska. Throughout the book’s text, author Aaron
Carnes introduced me to several bands that I had never heard of, like The Untouchables, We Are The
Union, and Jeff Rosenstock. Sure, I went through a ska phase in my teen years — attending shows and
listening to records from bands like Skankin’ Pickle, Suicide Machines, and The Rudiments. But by the
time the late ‘90s hit and bands like Reel Big Fish and Mighty Mighty Bosstones were everywhere, I lost
interest (not that I have anything against those bands or the tail end of third wave ska in general). That’s
when I really started getting into two-tone and Jamaican ska. Anyway, after reading Carnes’ book, I started
listening to bands like The Toasters (who I had never given much of a chance in the ‘90s) and Jeff
Rosenstock’s solo work and previous bands (like Arrogant Sons Of Bitches and Bomb The Music Industry).
It just so happened that Jeff Rosenstock released this ska-punk record about a month before I finished the
book. Apparently, he and his band mates were looking for a novel way to promote his 2020 record No
Dream — since they couldn’t tour — and came up with the idea of live streaming a ska rendition of
each song of the record. Since they soon deemed this idea unreasonable (how would they get
everyone together for rehearsal and to perform the show with the lockdown still intact?), they opted
instead to readapt and record each of No Dream’s tracks as ska songs. The result is one of the best
punk-ska records ever released. Tracks like “Ohio Porkpie,” “***SKA,” and “The Rudie Of Breathing,”
will follow me to the grave as songs that I will always look forward to putting on my record player due
to the fact that they just make me feel better. “The Rudie…” in particular contains a couple of lines that
hit so hard whenever I hear them: “I'm tired of knowing what about myself is wrong / But never
mustering up the resolve to really try to change it.” And after delving into similar subject material,
Rosenstock concludes with, “And that’s … that’s why I’m so fucking sad.” While the original track of
the song on No Dream features a mid-tempo arrangement with distorted guitars that more closely
matches the sullen lyrics, the ska version offers a happier, almost jovial background with which the
listener can relate to these themes of depression, jadedness, and hopelessness. And that’s probably
why I enjoy this record so much. Much like Rosenstock, I also dwell on issues of mental health and
dejection, but I also enjoy not feeling like shit all the time, which is where the ska comes in. When I tell
a lot of my friends that I’ve been listening to a lot of ska lately, I feel like I’m coming out of some weird
musical closet. But they tend to understand (or at least, they stop pitying me) when I say, “Sometimes
I just want to not feel fucking terrible for being alive, and that happens when I listen to ska.” Anyway,
Ska Dream was my favorite record that came out last year.
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