top ten songs: Twenty One Pilots.

Before you think it, I’ll say it: I know I’m too old for Twenty One Pilots.

James and I went to a Twenty One Pilots concert in early 2017, and let me tell you: we were easily the oldest people there (aside from all the moms who brought their teenagers).

 Yep, way too old.

But I also don’t care.

Unlike most of the bands in my “top ten songs of” lists, I don’t have an “aha” moment with Twenty One Pilots. I don’t remember which song of theirs I heard first or which song I loved first. All I can tell you is that I love them. The lyrics are so raw and emotional, and so many of them voice exactly what I am feeling when I cannot voice it myself. Almost every song speaks to insecurities, which is particularly striking to me: I have all the same insecurities, but of course, I could not put my feelings into song so eloquently. It feels like they are speaking directly to me.

Here are, in no particular order, my ten favorite Twenty One Pilots songs.

Migraine

If you’ve ever had a migraine, this song will speak to you. If you haven’t had a migraine, consider yourself fortunate. A migraine feels like your head is going to explode out of your eyes. There is no fixing it: the only remedy is to sequester yourself in a totally dark and totally silent room with an ice pack and try to sleep it off. Even if you succeed in sleeping it off, you’ll likely suffer a migraine hangover the following day, which include smaller headaches and complete exhaustion. Basically, it’s terrible. “Migraine” describes a migraine perfectly in song: “behind my eyelids are islands of violence” and “my pain will range from up, down, and sideways.”

Ride

I don’t know what it is about “Ride,” but I think it is my overall favorite Twenty One Pilots song. With Twenty One Pilots, it’s always the lyrics – but “Ride” has such a bouncy melody with a touch of reggae. And the line “I’ve been thinking too much – help me” is probably the single statement that could best define my life.

Holding onto You

“Holding onto You” is a perfect example of Twenty One Pilots’ adeptness at mixing musical styles, which is something I very much appreciate about them. Their songs are not only lyrically interesting, but musically interesting as well. It’s not often you get both. And let me tell you – the end with its swelling emotions (“entertain my faith”) is STIRRING. This was the first twenty one pilots song I truly loved – this was the song that made me realize they were the band for me. I recently read this song is about holding onto good thoughts while trying to rid the bad ones, which is a constant struggle for many of us.

The Hype

I have to be honest: their latest album is not my favorite. Many of the songs don’t have the raw emotional power as their earlier work, and that’s exactly what drew me to them. That being said, there are a few gems, “The Hype” being one of them. While it’s also missing the vocal passion of some of the older songs, it’s got killer lyrics: “no, I don’t know which way I’m going/but I can hear my way around.” Plus, there’s a ukulele in the bridge. Amazing.

Stressed Out

“Stressed Out” was the first Twenty One Pilots song I had ever heard. If you asked me to pick one song that defines my mood on any given day, nine times out of ten, it would be “Stressed Out.” This song is about the transition from childhood to adulthood, which, for many of us, is much more brutal than we were lead to believe it would be. Life was so simple when we were kids, but all we wanted to do was grow up. But now that we are grown up, childhood seems like a dream: “out of student loans and treehouse homes, we all would take the latter.” “Stressed Out” also deals with the complicated feelings that come with being an adult: “I was told when I get older all my fears would shrink/But now I’m insecure, and I care what people think.” And of course, the pressure that comes with bills to pay: “Wake up, you need to make money.”

Clear

I am so in love with one of Twenty One Pilot’s earlier albums called Regional at Best. Alas, it’s not available in the United States and I can only listen to it on YouTube. I heard “Clear” on the Twenty One Pilot’s Pandora station, and I have been struck since the beginning. The vocals are so emotional in this song, especially in the last lines: “I will tell you what I can/but your mind will take a stand/I sing of a greater love/let me know when you’ve had enough.”

My Blood

“My Blood” is also from their latest album, and it is SO different from any of their other songs. It’s all synth-poppy and disco-y and funky and I love it. There is also some solid falsetto, which is a weakness of mine. Plus, it’s about being loyal to your friends: yet another relatable topic.

Lovely

This is my other favorite song from Regional at Best, and it makes me think of James and me. I suffer from some anxiety with a tendency for what I now know are called “thought traps”: things like predicting the worst, assuming that I am not particularly well-liked, wondering what good my actions do, and so forth. James is my number-one cheerleader, always telling me my brain is out to get me (true) and none of those things are true. “Lovely” speaks to that directly: “dear friend, here we are again pretending/to understand how you think your world is ending” and “won’t you stay alive?/I’ll take you on a ride/I will make you believe you are lovely.”

Trees

“Trees” has some of the simplest lyrics of all the Twenty One Pilots songs, but I think it is incredibly powerful. The vocals change from verse to verse, so even though the lyrics are bare, you know exactly what they’re saying.

Goner

I think “Goner” is about intense loneliness, which most of us have experienced at some point in our lives. This is a feeling that sticks with you. For me, it was on Halloween night when I lived in New Orleans in 2009. Halloween is my favorite holiday, and for the first time in my life, I was all alone on Halloween. A few people I’d met had invited me out with them, but they never called back. I lived in a poolhouse in someone’s backyard, with only an air mattress for furnishings. I sat on my air mattress in the dark, wearing the Halloween socks my mom had just sent me in the mail, and cried. That is the loneliest I have ever felt, and I will never forget it. “Goner” is the perfect musical representation of that feeling.

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As always, there are a few gems that did not quite make the list. I love “Hometown” and “Ode to Sleep,” “Guns for Hands” is particularly timely, and I think of “Car Radio” every time my car is quiet. “Be Concerned,” “Glowing Eyes,” and “Ruby” are three favorites from the Regional at Best Album. And let me not forget their eponymous album, with solid offerings like "The Pantaloon" and "Oh Ms. Believer." But to me, that’s a mark of a true favorite band: if you have to pick ten of your favorite songs, and there are still a legion of others you love dearly.

Don’t listen to Twenty One Pilots for a pick-me-up: the emotion and subject matter is intense, and it’s not for everyone. But if you share some of these same feelings, you will feel as though the songs are written for YOU. Twenty One Pilots speak to my anxieties and insecurities like the Killers did to my intense desire to leave my small hometown. It’s not often as an adult you can find a band that resonates with you as much (if not more) than those that did in high school, and when you do, it’s something incredibly special.

(If you'd like to read about my other favorite bands and my ten favorite songs of theirs, here you go:)

Queen

David Bowie

Simon and Garfunkel

the Killers

the Clash

ABBA

weird childhood memories: the Sunday School songs edition.

Like a great many Midwesterns, I grew up going to Sunday School – whether I liked it or not.

And I did not.

To the untrained eye, I was the picture of a good Lutheran. I was a blond haired blue eyed Scandinavian, to start. I earned perfect attendance through almost every year of Sunday School (which began at age three and continued through your freshman year of high school). I was in church nearly every Sunday. I went to church camp – both day camp and week-long sleep away camp. I was a member of Luther League. I was dutifully confirmed at age 15. 

Same face as the one above, but add nine years.

I taught Sunday School with my friend Bob for three years. I knew the correct answer to “go in peace, serve the Lord” is “thanks be to God.”

But on the inside, I was not buying a single word of it.

 

Classic fake smile.

A born skeptic, I was not convinced that some guy named Noah filled a giant boat with two of every animal while a vengeful God killed everyone else. I did not think women were created from some guy’s rib. I did not think some mystical dude in the sky was watching our every move. None of it made any sense to me.

So I bluffed my way through; feigning the part of the obedient believer. To me, church and Sunday School were just one more thing to get through… one more thing I wouldn’t have to do when I became an adult and could make my own decisions about how to spend my Sundays.

I'm on the bottom right, looking super psyched to be there.

But that’s not what we’re here to talk about today.

We’re here to talk about Sunday School songs.

Sunday School was an hour every Sunday. From the age of three up until third grade, the first half of Sunday School was spent in the chapel, singing songs. The second half was spent in the classroom. When you became a fourth grader, you graduated into a full hour of Sunday School.

This story is about that half an hour of music.

The songs we learned to sing as small impressionable children have stuck with me forever. Some of them were pretty typical and harmless, like “Jesus Loves Me” and “This Little Light of Mine.” The warm-and-fuzzy lineup was pretty solid, like “Jesus Loves the Little Children,” “I’ve Got the Joy Down in My Heart,” and “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.” My favorite was “Something in the Garden,” which has nothing to do with religion at all. It involved a few lucky children choosing what kind of animals you would find in the garden, and then the entire group would make the corresponding songs.

We also sang about some very specific Biblical stories, such as “Father Abraham Had Many Sons” (which involved a sort of hokey-pokey type dance) and “Zacchaeus” about a tiny guy who sat in a tree to see Jesus. We all learned how to spell “Christian” by singing “I am a C.”

If you’ve ever set foot anywhere near an elementary Sunday School program, chances are you’ve heard these songs.

Sure, these songs were all good and well. The beaming Lutheran parents loved to hear their adorable Lutheran children sing them at the front of the church before a captive audience one Sunday a month.

There was a whole set of other songs, though, that left a weird taste in my mouth.

Leading the pack was Doug Larson.

Doug Larson was the bane of my Sunday School existence. He was/is a Christian children’s musician, and he made a living off touring the Midwestern Protestant church circuit in the mid-to-late 90s. My church would hire him every so often to come and hang out with the kids, teach them a few songs, and then perform them for churchgoers. My church also hired him for a week at a time in the summer to lead the annual day camp. 

I don’t remember if Day Camp was half a day or the whole day, but to me, it lasted FOREVER. My friend Sarah was my saving grace. She and I would sit together and roll our eyes in sync. We made up our own actions and interjections to some of these songs. It was the only way we could get through the day.

Partners in crime.

Doug Larson hated us.

He was a large man who gave a great face to adults, but left alone with us kids, he was short-tempered and ill-humored. Sarah and I would not have been any older than 10 at this point, and he could not understand why we weren’t taking the Word of the Lord seriously. By no means were we the only ones. What do you expect from a bunch of elementary-aged kids trapped in a church on a beautiful summer day? I remember Doug Larson screaming at us until he was red in the face. He told us that “Jesus doesn’t love children who don’t pay attention.”

Nice.

Doug Larson’s favorite song (and a big hit with the elder Lutherans with a taste for lame Scandinavian humor) was “Pharaoh Pharaoh.” Sung to the tune of “Louie Louie,” it tells the tale of Moses leading his people out of Egypt, but with interjections of “uffda” and “ya sure you betcha.” Even before my age was in the double digits, I found this to be trite.

The other Doug Larson staple was a song called “Clap Your Hands,” in which every verse involved some kind of action involving touching someone next to you. I am NOT a toucher, so this song made me incredibly uncomfortable. The actions all followed with “right next to you”: rub another back, shake another hand, bump another hip, and slap another knee (why “another,” I do not know).

For a time, my family was the proud owner of a Doug Larson cassette tape. 

THIS ONE.

I could NOT get away from Doug Larson. I would hide the tape on occasion to be spared another minute of Doug Larson’s falsely friendly voice, but someone always managed to find it. Doug Larson Mania eventually trailed off after the church paid him to do a program, but he flaked and kept the money. Or so the story goes.

(I would highly encourage you to check out Doug Larson’s site, which I found while researching this story. Each album cover has a link to audio clips of his songs, so you can hear the MAN HIMSELF singing these songs.)

https://www.douglarson.org/media-gallery

Believe it or not, Doug Larson wasn’t the only source of strange songs from Sunday School. Nearing the end of my Sunday School music career, we learned a song called “Awesome God.” 

It was a BIG DEAL. It was supposed to be POWERFUL and make you FEEL THINGS. It made me feel annoyed. Sarah and I gave it the same treatment as “Pharaoh Pharaoh” and made up our own actions. The chorus states that “He reigns from heaven above with wisdom, power, and love.” Sarah and I made wiggly fingers for reign/rain, pointed up for heaven, pointed at our heads for wisdom, made a muscle for power, and made a heart with our hands for love. But this time, the music teacher LOVED the actions and had us teach them to the whole group. Born from sarcasm, these actions may still be a part of Trinity Lutheran repertoire.

The final alarming song we sang was called “Lord’s Army.” This is one of the few songs I enjoyed singing as a kid, mostly because it was upbeat and not too Jesus-y. Looking back, though, it’s a bit unsettling. The song is about how we many never be in a real army shooting at enemies, but we are indeed in the Lord’s army (punctuated with a salute and “yes sir!”).

Looking back on my Sunday School and church upbringing, I am actually glad I experienced it. Spending so many years on the inside gives me an understanding of religion that I would not have had otherwise. I saw it less as a spiritual experience and more as a sociological study. I understand the group dynamic, and I understand a church’s strong role, especially in small towns like my own. I get it. But it just doesn't mean to me what it does to many others.

And that’s ok.