I’m back on the workout wagon again, frantically trying to curb the oncoming weight of turning 30 in October.

I’ve tried and failed at some kind of workout/diet regiment about, oh, I don’t know, six or seven times in the past two years. Unfortunately, I don’t really know what to do – I have a weak disposition, and when the bagels and donuts show up at work, I certainly have my share.

I realize that one of the few things that will motivate me to work out regularily is my iPod – Steinbeck, as you might recall – and that the idea of music fueling my desire to lose weight can be a strong motivation.

Today’s workout was the tip of the iceberg. And all I could think about was that I had a great playlist, randomized on the Indie Rock genre.

“Grounds for Divorce” – Wolf Parade
“Live at Dominoes” – The Avalanches
“The Farewell Party” – Cursive
“Modesto” – Beck
“Busy with Other Things” – Office
“Poor Places” – Wilco
“The Crystal Lake” – Grandaddy
“300 MHz” – At the Drive-In
“Going On” – Gnarls Barkley

This should be a regular feature. So you can see what’s driving me to work out. And so you can see what I’m currently rocking.

For me, music is a big part of my life. Just how big varies. At times, it’s high on the list of valuable mediums of expression. It’s the only thing I can think about in the car, at work, while mowing the lawn. It’s important as both background noise and vehicle for thoughtful consideration of art. It’s both functional and emotional.

Other times, I seem to forget about music, becoming bored with the entire concept and preferring silence, or talk, or sports.

Regardless, I’ve been lucky enough to be fueled by a constant stream of new music for the past 15 years. My parents were purveyors of what is now known as classic rock. My first job was at Best Buy, stocking CDs and, naturally, purchasing the best ones. High school coincided with a rich influx of pop punk and post-hardcore emo. College brought me Napster, then Kazaa, and eventually a group of friends with an almost equally obsessive quality toward music.

I’m still in touch with these friends today, receiving several albums per week via mix tape or samples or whatever. When I purchased my iPod, I was frantically collecting everything I had lost over the years, ballooning my playlist with thousands of songs I may or may not ever listen to. Anything that sounded remotely familiar made the list, anything recommended was added, anything done by a side project’s side project was holed away for later.

In other words, I’ve been adding music to my collection for a very long time. I’ve rarely taken anything out. I’ve never retired something I enjoy, and I barely ever delete something that has even a glint of promise.

Currently, my iPod has 9,230 songs.

My friends, it’s time to pare back.

Seriously. I don’t even know why I have half of the music I do. Air? Sheryl Crow? Warren G? I’ve got albums I’ve never listened to, albums I thought were funny at the time and artists I don’t like on compilation albums I must keep intact lest the gods of incomplete compilations smite me down in a rain of fire.

I’ve had many of these songs for a long time. And my completist nature halts me from deleting songs willy nilly, like a farmer going after wheat with a scythe, cutting down whatever is in my path.

Instead of going after this like a music fan, I’m looking at it as if they were a staff of employees during a budget crunch. The losers will be whisked away to the unemployment line, unable to continue working on my iPod, no longer available to take up precious space.

There are several classes of employees. There’s the tried and true workers – those who have been with me forever and will continue to lock on because they’ve met their five year tenure, bands that I may not have listened to since college, but still hold a place in my heart.

There are the hard workers, the best employees – my favorite bands, those whom I’ll generously give space to, including side projects, rare b-sides and one-star slacker albums.

Then, there are those who came in on a temp contract, still hanging around even after I’d deemed them unlistenable. Those who were hired with a group of songs I really liked, hiding away for a while due to their proximity to better music. Those who I’ve only kept on because I’m supposed to, serving to boost my quota of jazz or spoken word or whatever.

When I’m done, I should have a streamlined iPod, one that is easy to navigate, one where a new album isn’t instantly lost in the shuffle, squirreled away between Air and Air Supply.

I hope to cut the music down to 8,000, though I know that will be difficult to do.

Moderation is such a difficult practice.

Seriously. It’s about time. Let’s shuffle.

1. Cursive – “Mothership, Mothership, Do You Read Me?”
Burst and Bloom EP

I love Cursive. It’s no surprise. And this EP was the bridge between, “Boy, that last album was amazingly good!” and, “Holy shit. These guys are for real.”

It’s a dynamic song – one of the best on the album, and one of the best in the Cursive canon – about spaceships or the birth process or something like that. I’ve never really figured out the lyrics. I’ve just rocked out.

2. The Roots – “The Next Movement (live)”
The Roots Come Alive

So, like, the whole reason The Roots kill everyone in the coolness department is that they’ve created a pretty sweet array of mainstream hip hop that has three incredible differences from the usual lame gangsta/party rap genres.

1. They are their own backing band. They’re not completely dependent on DJ loops and old, forgotten and ironic period pieces.

2. Their lyrics mean something, either socially or metaphorically.

3. One of the members of the band spells his name with a question mark.

Awesome.

3. Hank Williams – “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”
The Ultimate Collection

I’m not all that lonesome, so I can’t relate.

That being said, I haven’t listened to much of the “oldster country guy” category that sparsely litters Steinbeck’s music library. Usually, when I’m in the mood for something like this, I turn to either the newer stuff (Cub Country, Rumbleseat) or I dial it back to Woody Guthrie. So Hank’s sat a little despondent, forgotten and sad.

No wonder he’s so lonely.

4. Snapcase – “Caboose”
Progression Through Unlearning

Snapcase was always really good at that guitar technique that made the echoic “KOO KOO KOO” noise. And their snare drum sounded like it was about to break at the end of every song.

I loved these guys in high school. Now they simply hold a place in my most nostalgic of memories. Is there any title that better represents the late 90s attitude of “FTW! YOU CAN’T TELL US WHAT TO DO! FIGHT CONVENTION!” hardcore punk than Progression Through Unlearning?

ROCK!

5. Simon and Garfunkle – “The Boxer”
Greatest Hits

“The Boxer.” A great song.

The real story, though, is the awesome Gallagher costume that Paul Simon wears on the cover of the Greatest Hits album. I always laugh, and I always wonder what John McEnroe is doing hanging out with that lame watermelon-smashing comic.

I mean, look at this.

Gallagher. Paul Simon.

John McEnroe. Art Garfunkle.

6. Iron & Wine – “Such Great Heights”
Such Great Heights

So I discovered the other day that Iron & Wine is really just one person – some hippie looking singer/songwriter that happens to sing a little huskily and play guitar. This is a cover of a The Postal Service song, which is funny because I also have a cover of The Shins playing We Will Become Silhouettes.

BREAKING NEWS! BREAKING NEWS!
This just in. The Such Great Heights single, in fact, contained a rarity in the record industry – two covers by two other bands on the actual original band’s single.: The Shins and Iron & Wine. So The Postal Service did Such Great Heights. And Iron & Wine covered it. And The Shins covered a different The Postal Service song. And it was all on the same album.

I happen to have different source CDs – The Shins cover is on a Believer Music Issue disc, and the Iron & Wine cover was released as its own single. So really, it’s not that funny at all – they were all on the same disc. Neat.

7. The Postal Service – “We Will Become Silhouettes”
Give Up

This is how Steinbeck fucks with me. By playing a song I was just talking about. Just to think it can read my mind.

Shuffle my ass.

8. Bad Religion – “American Jesus”
Recipe for Hate

The story goes like this.

I was once in a band. It turns out that everyone that was in the band had incredible talent. Yet, at the time, none of them had actually harnessed it, allowing it to wander all over the place under the guise of pseudo-punk rock. Eventually, the band broke up and the musicians went on their own ways to hone their skills and become phenomenal musicians. The vocalist – me – retired from music and became a writer.

When we were a band, we had five names. The name changes, however much we considered it, never made us much better as a band.

We covered “American Jesus.” That is our story.

9. Modest Mouse – “Baby Blue Sedan”
Building Nothing out of Something

Modest Mouse. I like them a lot.

Apparently, this song was supposed to be included on the Lonesome Crowded West album, and was if you purchased the LP version. I didn’t have a record player. Of course, I didn’t listen to Modest Mouse much when either of these releases came out, so it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I like this song a lot, for the record.

The best part about listening to Modest Mouse on CD is that you can’t tell how drunk Isaac Brock is. And it doesn’t suck.

10. R.E.M. – “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?”
Monster

How can anyone hate this album? I don’t get it. I always liked it.

We all know the story about the song. Dan Rather and all.

But yeah, listen to this a few times. If you’re an R.E.M. fan, you’ll miss the days when the band actually put out original music that didn’t sound like mall bathroom muzak.

If you’re not an R.E.M. fan, then you wouldn’t like it anyway. What are you listening to it for?

It’s been months.

And now, it’s back. Back with a vengeance. For several reasons.

First of all, I’ve created a playlist that has 1000 of my favorite songs. It’s a pure cross section of my collection – there’s at least one song from nearly every artist available. And, it’s all of the best songs, so we wont be surprised by some deep album track I’ve never bothered to listen to.

So, after months, the waiting can stop.

Wait no more. Let’s random this be-otch.

1. Debbie Gibson – “Lost In Your Eyes”
Greatest Hits

Oh God.

How embarrassing. Listen, this is not my song. I swear. In college, Kerrie would sing drunk, loud and proud to this song with her roommates and friends. With that in mind, those same friends ended up giving her this Greatest Hits CD for her birthday. And so, just like that, it ended up on Steinbeck.

It’s my fault, really. I wanted the most complete experience, which meant putting something from EVERY CD on the iPod, and from there, on the 1000 Songs playlist. I just never thought it would come up in public. Oh God.

2. Fragma – “Toca’s Miracle (Radio Edit)”
Toca

Okay. The joke’s up, people. I get it. Steinbeck is taking advantage of my aloneness to rub in every single non-Corey song in the collection. Toca’s Miracle? Really? I mean, this song is so far from my collection that I can barely name the song.

Of course, name it is one thing. Recognize it? I can do that. This isn’t just some crazy House Brit-Dance song – this is, to me, THE House Brit-Dance song, a memory that Kerrie brought back from her trip to England, a single that was popular for just a few months, a track that peaked when Kerrie’s Englishness peaked, while she was at the climax of her Anglophilia. She lived England to its fullest. And I live England through her. And this song helps. I can imagine myself drunk, at Tanner’s Pub, on the tables in a stupor.

So, as dumb as the song may seem, I still feel a little twinge when it comes on.

3. Lily Allen – “LDN”
Alright, Still

Okay, I can admit this song as mine.

Not only is Lily Allen British, and not only is this song a welcome respite AND segue from the previous song, but it’s one of my favorites from the past year. The album as a whole isn’t much of anything. But, the first three songs make up for the rest of it. It gets tired after a while (yeah, you’re against authority and you hate dudes and you swear and it’s great fun because you’re cute and English) but until that “tired’ point, Lily Allen is great fun.

Overall, it’s pop at its greatest. I can’t imagine she’ll do much more, but this is enough for an entire career.

4. Built to Spill – “Carry the Zero”
Keep it Like A Secret

I’ve never seen Built to Spill live. There are three living bands I’d like to see live before I die. Tool. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, and Built to Spill.

And here’s the thing – I could have. They opened for Modest Mouse in Minneapolis. And where was I? I was just one hour away, in St. Cloud, a “sort-of” fan of both bands but not yet aware of what I was missing. Instead, I continued my duties as a Resident Advisor, months after I had stopped caring.

With that said, “Carry the Zero” is one of my favorites – it’s got great lyrics, and it’s one of the better first-song album starters.

5. Outkast – “Roses”
Speakerboxxx/The Love Below

Hey Ya! is a great song. But I have always like Roses a hundred times better – both for the Prince-esque lyrics and vocals and the mention of poo-poo.

So, yeah. A Grammy was earned for this song alone.

6. Jimmy Eat World – “Opener”
The Emo Diaries: What’s Mine is Yours

Okay. I’ll admit. Before Jimmy Eat World was a viable, superstar, MTV entity (which, after a few months and a few silver looking shirts, dropped off like nothing ever happened), I was a big fan. And, while I liked their Static Prevails album, the true love didn’t start until I heard this song.

This song – the first song on the first Emo Diaries album – the first instance of having a complete compilation set based around the idea of emo music, the complex and ultra-emotional cry-fest that I loved through all of college. Some of it still stands up, and this song is one of them. It’s a cast off from a real album, but it’s one of my favorites, and it makes me proud of supporting the energy and great music that came out of the poppy-emo scene.

7. Elvis Costello – “Shipbuilding”
High Fidelity (Soundtrack)

I love this movie. And I love every song involved therein.

I love Nick Hornby, as much as he’s reviled by the literary community.

So there you go.

8. Jimmy Eat World – “Digits”
Static Prevails

See? If you mention a specific album, Steinbeck will fetch it, bringing it back to you like a dog eager to please, like an automatic vending machine designed to deliver safe and effective products with the push of a button. My little machine brought this to me, thinking I was missing it, thinking I was going without my daily fix of Jimmy Eat World.

The song starts off with an extended instrumental, then blasts into a typical Jimmy Eat World rocker. It is, for the record, one of my three favorite Jimmy Eat World songs (and don’t ask me to rank them… I’m just guessing that there aren’t three JEW songs better.) So it’s fun, all the same, to hear it. Yay for college.

9. Face to Face – “Blind”
Face to Face

I never owned this album. Kerrie brought this into our relationship.

That’s not to say I wasn’t a Face to Face fan. On the contrary – I loved these guys during my EpiFat punk era. I loved the poppy, happy punk rock they executed to a brilliant precision. And, if I had stuck around for an extra album, I’d have placed this album high on my list of favorites.

This song, especially, was one of the best, an often overlooked masterpiece in fast, emotional punk, a song easily remembered and quickly recognized. So well, in fact, that I felt incredibly familiar with it after just a few listens, knowing I’d had already encountered it a few years before.

10. The Doors – “Break On Through”
Greatest Hits

The Doors were a fascination through high school, when I dabbled in what I considered the “Big Four” of classic rock – The Beatles, Pink Floyd, The Who and The Doors (which is not to contain others that could be included, like The Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin). So with that, I cling tightly to these songs. And, with age, I find them, for the most part, nostalgic relics.

Except for Pink Floyd and the Beatles. Both bands are beyond good, both in their smartness and their legendry.

1. Atmosphere – “Jackpot/Swept Away”
Headshots:Se7en

No, I don’t have as many Atmosphere songs on Steinbeck as it appears. It just seems that whenever I shuffle it up for Random day, Atmosphere shows up, often with a song I’ve never heard before (or one that I don’t like).

I ended the December 11th Steinbeck on Random with Atmosphere, and I start the January 26th right where I left off – this time with a song off of the Headshots:Se7en album, which is an album of random mix tape songs or something. I dunno.

What I DO know is this: I hate when people spell “seven” with a numeral in place of the “v.” It’s dumb. It was clever when they used it for the first time in the Brad Pitt/Kevin Spacey film. It’s not anymore.

2. Tool – “Disposition”
Lateralus

I was at the peak of my Tool fandom when Lateralus came out, deeply entrenched in the brilliance of Ænima and all that it offered. I found Lateralus to be a disappointment – not because it was bad, but because it wasn’t Ænima. We’ve all gone through this, right? It happened with Radiohead’s Kid A – it was good, but it wasn’t OK Computer.

Of course, I never really cared for this song even when I did come to terms with the album. It’s too quiet – too “blah.” I want crazy drums and chunka-chunka and weird, introspective lyrics. Not naptime with Maynard.

3. Built to Spill – “Car”
There’s Nothing Wrong with Love

Well, duh. This is, like, one of the best songs ever. A Built to Spill classic, from the album that really positioned the band as an indie rock juggernaught.

Quick trivia: “Car” was the only “older” Built to Spill song included on their live album, Live. It’s that good.

4. Piebald – “Dirty Harry and the Thunderbolts”
If It Weren’t For Venetian Blinds, It Would Be Curtains For Us All

Oh Piebald. You and your quirky album titles and references to Naked Gun, Part 3 (which, I’ll have you know, was actually called Naked Gun 33 1/3. Big difference, Piebald.)

It never fails, when I hear Piebald, I say to myself, “This band is cute. They are funny and quirky and totally fun.” Then I stop taking them seriously and switch to another song. Just like I’d do with Architecture in Helsinki or P.E.E.

5. Piebald – “Rules for Mules”
If It Weren’t For Venetian Blinds, It Would Be Curtains For Us All

Uh. Didn’t we just hear this?

Okay, new iPod operating program. We need to talk.

Why have you started doing this? I have no problem with the Smart Shuffle feature, as your big brother iTunes calls it. Unfortunately, you seem to do this without any prompting. It happens at least once every time I shuffle your 7488 songs, and it’s always within the first 30 songs. You place two songs from the same album next to each other – a gentle poke at the effectiveness of the Shuffle feature.

It wouldn’t bother me, except it seems so random itself. Imagine thirty songs, all in a row on Shuffle. Twenty-eight of those songs will be completely random – from country to hip-hop to the indie darling of the week. But then, hidden in the midst of the randomness, is a pair you forgot to shuffle – two in a row from Billy Bragg’s B-sides collection, or two Beastie Boys songs from Hello Nasty.

I just want to know why you keep doing this.

6. The Decemberists – “My Mother Was a Chinese Trapeze Artist”
Five Songs

Songs from The Decemberists belong in two groups: songs I don’t really care about, and songs that tell an amazing, folkloric tale that is both captivating and beautiful.

This song fits into that second group. It’s the charm behind Colin Malloy’s pretentious, yet brilliant, wordplay. This is why I love the band.

7. Leadbelly – “Easy Rider”
Borgeois Blues

Whenever I listen to Leadbelly, I feel like I’m being transported back to the 1930s, when records were scratchy and digital re-mastering was still 55 years in the future. There’s an element of time travel involved in listening to these recordings. It’s strangely exhilarating.

I find this same feeling comes up whenever Woody Guthrie slots in. The somewhat poor quality gives it a human quality – one that makes the lyrics seem more real – more urgent and timely. These are the voices of the Depression, of World War II, of the quiet post-War era. And they’re being brought to us in the same way that they were recorded, as if they were created to be a time capsule in addition to their function as musical thought.

I’d take these recordings over any re-mastered, glossed up train wreck any day.

8. The Beatles – “I Am the Walrus”
1967-1970

Dear Fans,

John and I were talking the other day. We have come to the conclusion that most of you are taking us too seriously. I’m currently fascinated with the avant-garde movement, and John is becoming more political – yes, this is true. But the recent hubbub over our latest song, “I Am the Walrus,” is really too much.

I am not dead. We’re just on a lot of drugs. Please don’t read too much into it. Hell, we even let Ringo sing a song.

With love,
Paul

(With thanks to Bill Hicks for the Ringo joke.)

9. Sage Francis – “Eye of the Tiger”
Still Sick: Urine Trouble

Bare bones stuff from Sage Francis, who has lost a lot of stock in the past few months because, well, I’m tired of him showing up on my Shuffle. He’s fine. But, you know, whatever. I’m tired of him right now.

10. Air – “Cherry Blossom Girl”
Talkie Walkie

This, like most Air songs, is a tripped out, female vocalized song that seems comfortable in the background of a foreign language film. You know, at the part where the sultry French woman looks longingly over at the sophisticated Italian gentleman, blowing smoke rings through her nose. She then slowly pulls out a gun, shooting her supposed beau in the heart, thus ending any romance that could have been kindled.

Well. Maybe that’s too much. But it does sound like foreign film music.