LCD Soundsystem is, in my mind, the best band of the last decade. They (He) was simply so perfect for that moment: electronic and modern and distinctly new, but with these classical rock and roll underpinnings that gave everything a sort of timeless sheen. It struck a nerve in a world stumbling into a new millennium, trying to redefine itself without losing sight of its roots. Or then again, maybe that was just me.
I stumbled into LCD Soundsystem in my Sophomore year of college. After a year of living in New York, I had finally coming to terms with the big city that'd come to be my home, and having sorted that out was starting to look in the mirror a bit more. I was trying to figure out who I was, who I wanted to be, beyond this scared little freshman terminally afraid he'd be alone and friendless in a big city. I was, to put it simply, lost, half a foot in the future and half a foot in the past. And then along came Mr. Murphy.
Imagine it: music about being lost and uncertain and drunk and overtly, painfully emotional being offered up to a Sophomore writing student. In my more egocentric moments, I probably thought he was writing about me. The music struck a chord - frankly, how could it not. And these songs became my anthems and my anchors: Dance Yrself Clean, All I Want, All My Friends. I wasn't sure if it was what I wanted my life to be, but damn did it feel right.
LCD Soundsystem, based purely on the 3 full length albums they put out, would easily be one of my favorite bands of all time. The music simply works. But then James Murphy walked away. And honestly, he couldn't have done it any better. Music is a tricky beast. To paraphrase a Batman flick, you either die a legend, or you live long enough to see yourself become a joke. The fact of the matter is the attitude, the drive, the emotionality and passion that make great music begin to wear thin as people get older. And that's fine: that's the way maturity works. But to be 50 years old and still talking about screwing the man, of going hard and staying out until the sun comes up: it's simply a joke. They say sitcoms have a shelf life. Most bands do to.
James Murphy dodged that bullet. James Murphy left at the top of his game, dropping three incredible albums, one of the best concerts I've ever seen, and then simply dusting his hands and walking away. It's an incredible move, and one that takes no small amount of courage: to look at your work and say, "Yes, this is done. I can't make it any better than this". As a writer, and a tinkerer myself, it feels me with awe and no small amount of envy. But it's also undeniably true. LCD Soundsystem walked out at its peak, and it left behind a legend.
Five years later, I feel quite a bit different than that college Sophomore. But if you dig a little, you'll find the same confused kid, with questions about identity, and the past, and the future. So it's no surprise LCD Soundsystem still touches something in me. And it's no surprise that they're still, hands down, one of my favorite bands.
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