A decade ago, you loaded it on your iPod. You were 16 or 26 or 36 and you related to the manifestation of frontman Isaac Brock's severe depression in the form of a CD or maybe 16 mislabeled MP3 files you pirated off Kazaa. Maybe you were wearing graphic t-shirts with quippy sayings in a time when graphic t-shirts with quippy sayings were a thing people were first doing and it was cool. Maybe your had angular bangs and hair colored to a dark hue that came out of a bottle. Maybe you heard this song on the OC. Maybe you thought indie rock was becoming "too commercial." Maybe you searched eBay for a copy of Interstate 8. Maybe you went to a Modest Mouse concert. Maybe you punched a girl in the face. Maybe you were in high school or college or wondering how you were on the downhill side of your 30s. But whatever it was it was definitely 10 years ago.
As Stereogum points out, the album, at the time, was a "total mindfuck," for everything it sounded like and everything it embodied, sound-wise and industry-wise. This was 2004—the halfway point between the 2001 arrival of the iPod and three years before the iPhone. Things were different for music. Things were different for you.
I still have a physical copy of Good News for People Who Love Bad News. The pink disc in the pastel green jewel case is one I can't bring myself to get rid of. I remember listening to it driving around my neighborhood in my beat-up Ford Explorer. I remember listening to it in a friend's parents house as we schemed ways to clandestinely smoke pot and sneak into concerts we were too young to attend. I remember burning "Float On" to every mix CD I made that year. That was all, somehow 10 years ago. And yet somehow, this album remains significant. [Spotify, Amazon, Rdio, iTunes]