by Carrie Brownstein

When my band would be in the studio recording an album, there was sometimes a song that one of us, or the producer, deemed the "weak kid." Whether the song's limitations were structural, melodic or merely a product of frustrations while recording, the weak kid required nurturing — from a cheerleader, perhaps — to make sure it survived and made it onto the eventual record.

Many weak kids become B-sides, never see the light of day, or end up on the inevitable box set years later. Other weak kids magically transform themselves during the recording session, saved by a guitar line, handclaps, backing vocals, or simply the process of "figuring out" what about the song isn't working.

Alas, most weak kids do end up on the album — sandwiched between two stronger tracks, mid-tempo, featuring an instrument no one would allow on another song ("Hey, let's see what it sounds like with a Theremin!") and overdubbed beyond recognition.

Great albums almost never have weak kids, good albums have only one or two, and s——- records consist almost entirely of flabby songs, so that everything but the one or two singles might just be called "filler."

But something strange happens when you throw a defenseless and fragile being out into the world: Someone ends up loving it for who it is. The weak kid always becomes some fan's favorite song. And what draws a person to this frail little tune? Well, it's the same inclination that makes people want a three-legged dog or a blind cat, or hope their child will have to wear thick glasses and be covered in freckles because they think that would be cute. Some folks are simply attracted to the very thing others might find unsavory.

But loving weakness isn't easy. You might never get to hear your special song played live. If a band only has one album and has to play the song, you might be in luck. Otherwise, the chances of them throwing your favorite number into the set list are nil. And, unless you're someone who doesn't mind yelling incessantly at a band until they acquiesce and play an unpracticed version of the song, you'll have to suffer your loss in silence (and then go home and craft a complaint email to the manager).

As music fans, most of us have fallen for the weak kid at least once, and if we've fallen, we wouldn't even think to consider it a feeble song. Yet part of us knows we're in the minority, which is sort of what makes it great. With most people fawning over the popular kids, all that's left is you and your song.

Please share the weak kids you've loved over the years in the comments.