52 Essentials: No. 12, Song Exploder (2014-____)

Welcome to Maps & Legends, a project by two new parents looking forward to sharing our favorite art and culture with our new edition. Each week in this space, we'll pick a personal favorite of ours (or at least a favorite of one of us) and write about what it means to us and why we're excited to pass it down.

I'm a head-bopper. Been one as long as I can remember. Sometimes I know I'm doing it, sometimes my body does it all on its own. If I hear music, odds are my head is bopping to the beat.

People have called me out on it. They've made fun of me sometimes when it's gotten out of control, with my head's wobbling like a bobblehead toy after a good shake, or my hands banging my desk like Animal on an electric mayhem bender. It must look like a gentle, rhythmic seizure at times when my headphones are in and no one can hear the music but me. I don't think I picked that up from my parents or anyone else in my family. I don't know if I could explain why I do it except that it feels right.

Wherever it came from, I feel like I'm in fairly good company, seeing as legendary beatmaster J Dilla was also a head-bopper. (According to The Roots' ode to their fallen friend that is, in their tribute track "Can't Stop This": "Never without that signature smile and head / Bouncin' to the beat." If I could be remembered so simply and beautifully after I go, I think I'd rest in peace .)

Dissecting the things you love isn't for everyone. And not all dissections are created equal. Once you've explained a joke, it's not really a joke. Expose the trick and you might kill the magic.

Some might say that it separates the casual fan from the diehard, but I don't like to think that the line is so clean. Nothing says that the guy passively taking in the ballgame in real time is any less a fan of the sport than the guy sitting next to him obsessively tracking each play in his chart with a radio announcer in his ear and a copy of Moneyball in his bag. Nothing says you can't rock out to a good song if you haven't taken a music theory course.

I haven't taken music theory, but on the other hand I do love a good song dissection. When a work of art is broken down right, you don't just see how the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, you can feel the different elements expand and extend beyond the work itself. The influences come to light, giving you new works to hear and artists to follow. A single chord or progression may have been borrowed from your new favorite song, a line lifted from your next favorite songwriter. You can almost stand in the shoes of the artist and see what they created from their perspective, first person.

If a good song dissection is surgery performed on a healthy patient that leaves them better off than when they arrived at the operating room, then Hrishikesh Hirway is one of our great surgeons. For over three years, he's been the host and producer of Song Exploder, a bi-weekly podcast available online in which he invites a musician to break down a song of theirs and discuss the influences, inspirations and happy accidents behind its creation.

Here's the first episode of Song Exploder featuring Jimmy Tamborello of indietronic band The Postal Service discussing “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight":

Max's mother and I got to see Song Exploder recorded live once in Seattle. The episode was recorded on November 15, 2014 (my 36th birthday), and the featured musician was John Roderick of The Long Winters. He broke down the song "The Commander Thinks Aloud," which told the story of the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster from the perspective of one of the astronauts who died when the shuttle broke apart upon reentry into the atmosphere.

(The description of the episode on Song Exploder's website notes that the seven astronauts who died that day were of seven different religious faiths, which just proves that sometimes there really is beauty buried in disaster.)

It was fascinating to see how Hirway conducts his interviews, alternating between leading the musician through his work and letting his thoughts forge their own path. The finished product removes Hirway entirely, letting the musician speak directly to the listener without filter in a monologue that stands up as its own work of narrative non-fiction.

I can't say that I'm bopping my head any harder or insightfully after I've broken down my favorite song or unpacked the influences behind it. I don't know if I'm any closer to understanding why I love music so much, other than it was always in the air in the house when I grew up. Maybe it's just in my bones and muscle memory, calling to me to plunge down into my DNA and discover the influences, inspirations and happy accidents that made me who I am today.

Maybe some day it'll call out to Max, too.