I was disappointed that I missed Pete Seeger: The Power of Song during its brief theatrical release and swore I’d catch up to it on DVD. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait that long: Thank the stars for the Public Broadcasting Service.

Pete Seeger: The Power of Song (The Weinstein Company, now playing on PBS)
This is, admittedly, a very adoring portrait of the protest folk singer. You won’t hear about the rumors of an incensed Pete Seeger trying to cut Bob Dylan’s power during his infamous “gone electric” performance at Newport in 1965. And you won’t get an unkind word about the man’s music, which in the regular world outside of the film takes its lumps from critics for being too preachy and too humorless. But like with Jonathan Demme’s underappreciated Jimmy Carter Man From Plains, director Jim Brown’s admiration for his subject is so pungent that damned if it doesn’t become persuasive. Natalie Maines, Bruce Springsteen, and Dylan (in old footage, his fans will note) come out to say their piece about Seeger’s “courage,” but what comes through loudest is the idea of a life lived on principle: pro-union, anti-war, pro-intellectual curiosity, anti-conformity. And it’s an intensely moving portrait as well: Seeger’s creative muse may have given out before his sense of civic duty, but there’s no question that the people he’s inspired along the way see those two halves of him all wrapped up together. At a time when the memory of the ‘60s is so warped from years of romanticism and rewriting and cultural backlash, Brown makes a strong argument that Seeger represented the counterculture at its best before the era even had a name – and he’s still going strong long after it flamed out. Seeger himself has complained that The Power of Song is too fawning. A stickler for common sense that he is, that makes sense. But Brown isn’t really making it for Seeger. It’s for those who want to believe in heroes – and for those who still remember when being labeled a “hippie” was a good thing.

MGMT, “Time to Pretend” (from Oracular Spectacular, Sony)
Ordinarily, savvy indie rockers know that they have to couch their aspirations in irony when they’re not just succumbing to their own impotence in the face of a mean old corporate world that wants nothing to do with them. But then there’s this song. I can’t think of another that both understands so clearly the dead ends that adulthood can bring but also doesn’t revel in that despairing realization. Rather, like a less-psychedelic Flaming Lips (or a whole lot less annoying Polyphonic Spree), MGMT embrace that crushing reality, making a celebration out of it. I just read their bio, and I fear that Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasse might be more snarky than I’d prefer. But for one song, anyway, they’re singing about the last gasps of childhood innocence with such bracing candor that they match the unabashed ebullience of their indie-pop junkshop of guitars and lo-fi keyboards. Life isn’t a choice between marrying a model or working a cubicle – they know that. But by defining the ends of the spectrum, they chart their territory, and it’s a place in which any of us can feel better. As the perfect final stroke, they conclude the song musing about their own deaths – and they embrace that too. Indie rockers with a legitimate worldview – can it be true?

Flo Rida featuring T-Pain, “Low” (from Step Up 2 The Streets, Atlantic)
Or, as it’s better known, The Song You Cannot Escape In 2008. The scenario is familiar: Guy goes to a club, sees a hottie with a nice booty, bliss is unleashed. Except for random references to a glock and a “pornography poster,” there’s nothing inherently objectionable about the track, although concerned parents can trust their ears and know there’s something filthy going on. Me, I smile and remember Next’s immortal “Too Close,” where the only thing that can halt a potential dance-floor hookup is the guy’s painfully evident boner, and Blackstreet’s “No Diggity,” which equally understood the power of a confident woman in the world of predatory males. This is a fantasy being sold, but it’s based on very real teenage hormones. The strength of “Low” is that even though I’m far enough away from the age, I can access its sentiments just fine.

The Raveonettes, “Aly, Walk with Me” (from Lust Lust Lust, Vice)
Still utterly disposable and hopelessly retro, at least Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo are getting louder. The lead track from their new Lust Lust Lust record, “Aly, Walk with Me” hits upon the sort of cinematic noir that populates David Lynch’s films – the sense of danger and sex walking hand in hand with cool and mysterious. The fact that their come-ons to Aly sound innocuous but feel reptilian is a new twist for the Danish duo – so is the guitar sound that moves beyond rock ‘n’ roll to steamy industrial. Whether it’s lust lust lust or murder murder murder on their minds, the unsettling spell of the song stays with you, slowly building until it surrounds you like a net. I wonder what Garbage would have done with this – wait, I know: Shirley Manson would have camped up its scary/sexy quality. The Raveonettes play it straight, which is sexier and scarier still.

Mike Doughty, “27 Jennifers” (from Golden Delicious, ATO)
Former Soul Coughing frontman sings a little ditty about an old problem: There are so many women in this world, but which one is right for me? It’s understandable to expect that at 38 and lacking legendary status, he could be bitter, but “27 Jennifers” is breezy – breezier, in fact, than most anything else you’ll hear on indie-rock radio, unless you count Vampire Weekend (I’ll get to them soon, promise) whom are almost 15 years younger than this relative old-timer. In a way, he represents a perfect melding of his two most important collaborators: Dave Matthews (whose label Doughty’s on) and Dan Wilson (former Semisonic wunderkind who produced Golden Delicious). Catchy and jammy, while being philosophical and happy-go-lucky – it’s all in there.

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