Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged '1971'

March 15, 2010

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Rock and Roll” – Led Zeppelin
(Words/music: John Bonham, John Paul Jones, Jimmy Page, and Robert Plant, available on Led Zeppelin IV, Atlantic 1971)

It’s been a couple years since “Rock and Roll” was used in a car commercial, so it’s been a long time since I’ve heard the song. iTunes tells me it’s been since February 2008, so that was at least the last time I actively chose to listen to it. In the interim, I’d forgotten how wonderful it is.

That, in a nutshell, sums up my feelings about Led Zeppelin, or at least about their best known songs.

Back in November, I said that I gravitate toward the “less canonical songs” because I spent my teenage years bombarded by the band. At one point in time, the drum intro to “Rock and Roll” sent that special spine-tingling excitement through my body. Now, it generally gets me to switch the radio station. Every time, whether I actively think it or not, I know that I’m being unfair running from Led Zeppelin the same way I run from songs I actively dislike. I know that ten years ago if “Rock and Roll” came on, I’d drive around the block a couple times just so I could finish hearing it. This might come across as a statement about getting older, but the truth is that once a week I sit in my car somewhere for another thirty seconds to finish hearing a song before going on with the rest of my life. Thankfully, I still find joy in music – until today, it rarely came from Led Zeppelin.

I’m not sure what possessed me to put on “Rock and Roll” today, but I’m glad that I did. The thing that struck me the most was its looseness. I think of Zeppelin as this monolithic band with an immovable sound, but here at least John Bonham and John Paul Jones establish an open groove, giving Jimmy Page the space for a blues solo that sounds playful rather than ominous or foreboding. Even Robert Plant’s screaming, propelled along by that piano that always surprises me, sounds like the yelps of a man having fun.

I’m tempted to use this as an example of the idea that taste is cyclical, but I’m not sure that’s the case. Yes, the end result is the same – I wish I could stay up tonight, put Led Zeppelin IV on my turntable, and redigest this album for the first time in several years. However, it’s not entirely accurate to say I see the same things I liked a decade ago; in fact, I’m certain I’ve never really considered Led Zeppelin as “sounding like they’re having fun.” Instead, this makes me think that our taste continually evolves and makes these return visits interesting, if for no other reason than to see how we’ve grown. After all, songs don’t change – we do.

More on Led Zeppelin: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

January 31, 2010

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“L.A. Woman” – The Doors
(Words/music: John Densmore, Robbie Krieger, Ray Manzarek, and Jim Morrison, available on L.A. Woman, Elektra 1971)

For whatever reason, “L.A. Woman” is the Doors song that fascinates me the most. It’s not the weirdest Doors song nor is it the best representative track. However, this is the version of the band I enjoy the most. The arrangement feels fuller and more freewheeling than a lot of their work and Jim Morrison sounds immersed in his vocals. Even if the lyrics aren’t his most brooding, his delivery seems particularly unhinged. He sounds like he’s tossing off lyrics as they come to him – repeating some lines that he wants to mull over a little more, annunciating some lines more than others, and tossing in whoops and “yeahs” at random intervals. Robbie Krieger is right behind him, echoing some of Morrison’s vocals with similarly phrased lead licks. Even though the band only performed the song once, this is the version I’d like to picture live – freewheeling and fun.

Even if “L.A. Woman” feels like a live improvisation, other moments suggest its meticulous construction. Even if Morrison sounds like he’s making up the words on the spot, the repetition and phrasing of the words seems planned out. Particularly on the bridge, Morrison knows exactly how to contort each syllable to fit with the right melodic and rhythmic bend to it. There’s also the anagram – “Mr. Mojo Risin’” as a rearrangement of Morrison’s name. No matter how off the cuff and free associative the end product sounds, it takes too many twists and turns to be anything less than carefully planned out.

More on The Doors: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

December 22, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)” – Marvin Gaye
(Words/music: Marvin Gaye, available on What’s Going On, Motown 1971)

When presented with a soapbox, Marvin Gaye responds with a snapshot rather than a sermon. The What’s Going On album draws on a host of social issues, yet it’s not driven by a specific agenda. Take “Mercy Mercy Me,” a song that still seems relevant as the world’s leaders meet in Copenhagen right now to discuss the global climate. Gaye describes the fragile state of the environment in a subdued yet soulful tone. While he implies judgment on the situation when he notes that “things ain’t what they used to be,” he never pushes his agenda. In this case, it’s an asset to the song; Gaye’s arrangement feels intimate and contemplative, and any attempt at sloganeering wouldn’t fit the situation.

So why bring up the environment at all? In this case, it seems like an issue of conscience. Gaye seems intent on crafting an accurate depiction of his world and wrote songs about what he saw. “Mercy Mercy Me” depends on this feeling of authenticity; otherwise, the Hollywood strings and orchestral touches might feel cheesy. Instead, these embellishments give Gaye’s impassioned vocals and serious subject matter the gravitas it deserves. Anything else – whether a truncated vision of the world, an out-of-character rally cry, or the privileging of persona over person – makes “Mercy Mercy Me” laughable. While other scenarios use personas to their advantage (and Gaye does this as well, especially in his “Let’s Get It On” days), a disarmingly beautiful song like “Mercy Mercy Me” calls for complete truth. Even if the truth is that Gaye doesn’t have an answer (and if anyone did, our leaders wouldn’t be in Copenhagen right now), he does his part by getting the conversation rolling.

More on Marvin Gaye: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

October 21, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Jealous Guy” – John Lennon
(Words/music: John Lennon, available on Imagine, Apple Records / EMI 1971)

Like many other great artists, John Lennon took moments that others might call mundane and coaxed out the inner beauty. While “Jealous Guy” might feel a little over-sentimentalized (mainly because of those syrupy sweet strings in the background), his narrator hits the right emotional notes. Specifically, the narrator hones in on the insecurity behind jealousy. No matter how we dress it up, jealousy comes back to this deep-rooted feeling that we aren’t good enough (or, perhaps, that someone else is better). Rather than fall into a cycle of anger that jealousy often starts, Lennon’s narrator opens himself up to his vulnerability by owning his jealous behavior and admitting to his flaws. It’s this disarming sweetness that makes him human, and it makes the claim that a hurtful result could come from a place of love a little more believable. After all, we’re all imperfect, and while good intentions alone won’t yield results, hiding from one’s failings won’t lead to growth either.

Today, six years after Elliott Smith died, I’m thinking not only about his songs but about “Jealous Guy” too. While many might link the two songwriters together based on their premature deaths, I think of the types of characters both men created. Both wrote songs about imperfect people who strove to be better, and while many focused on these characters’ flaws and thought of the songs as depressing, it’s an incomplete part of the picture. Often, both Lennon and Smith balanced the low points with a pervading sweetness and often a sense of hope. “Jealous Guy,” which Smith playfully covered on several occasions, acknowledges the narrator’s failure yet doesn’t mire itself in pity. Instead, it’s a plea to remedy the situation and move forward – and hearing Smith’s voice rise as he sings these lines (and laugh as he invites the crowd to whistle along with him) underscores the hope that next time the narrator won’t make the same mistake.

More on John Lennon: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

April 3, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Paranoid” - Black Sabbath
(Words/music: Geezer Butler, Tony Iommi, Ozzy Osbourne, Bill Ward, available on Paranoid, Warner Brothers 1971)

Back when I was a practicing drummer, I played on and off with a couple bands in high school. By “played on and off with a couple of bands,” I mean that I occasionally played with other musicians in someone’s basement or garage and never any gigs. One of which was with two guys who played together a lot and wrote maybe a dozen songs together. I played with them a couple times and each time they would have new songs, some of them being slow heavy dirges, some of them upbeat punk songs. The only thing that these songs had in common was that the two of them knew them in their entirely – chord changes, when the bridge came in, etc – and they would play them and expect me to follow along. I would do my best and they were just happy to have a drummer playing with them, so it was always a good time. One time, they started playing the riff to “Paranoid” and I beamed with joy – finally, a song that I knew! I gleefully played through the song to my best memory, which was enough to impress my friends into inviting me back. Then again, I was really the only available drummer they knew…

While other longer songs in the Black Sabbath / Ozzy Osbourne catalog get more attention, “Paranoid” deserves its share of praise. Built around that signature riff, “Paranoid” chugs along for three minutes, using power chords, brief blasts of guitar solo, and Ozzy’s stream of consciousness. Its brevity is a virtue; “Paranoid” is simple enough to rely on adrenaline for three minutes (or two minutes and fifty three seconds to be specific) but would collapse from exhaustion if it were any longer. Instead, it’s an exercise in simplicity when many of its fellow songs expand to epic proportions. It’s understandable why we’re drawn to the overblown theatrics in “Iron Man” and the wall of guitars in “War Pigs” - they are monolithic works that inspired countless metal bands and deserve their lionization. However, “Paranoid” deserves more than a passing nod and the wave of faceless punk bands that thanklessly made careers out of “Paranoid” clones.

More on Black Sabbath: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

January 11, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“It Don’t Come Easy” – Ringo Starr
(Words/music: George Harrison and Richard Starkey, available on The Concert for Bangladesh, Apple/EMI 1971)

I had never really thought too much about who wrote “It Don’t Come Easy,” but after researching it today (and giving it another close listen), it doesn’t surprise me that George Harrison had a hand in its composition (and some claim that he wrote the entire thing, giving it to Ringo to help jump start his career). Everything about the arrangement would make it fit in with All Things Must Pass – a jangly opening guitar riff, the carefully layered arrangement (with my favorite parts being the horns and the backing vocals) all bear Harrison’s signature. Still, today’s Ringo’s day on Some Songs Considered (and I have a feeling that I’ll write about at least one more Harrison composition in the future, it seems likely with another 350+ entries in front of me).

Perhaps because he didn’t write as many songs, or because he played an instrument many deem “easy” (to which I suggest that anyone who thinks that should sit behind a drum kit and feel overwhelmed by all the different things going on), or simply because his band mates were three of the most influential musicians and songwriters of the popular music era, Ringo becomes at best an afterthought and at worst a punching bag for many. Still, he deserves to be more than “the drummer,” and occasionally he gets this respect that he deserves.

Two brief stories:

1. In the late 90s, I subscribed to Modern Drummer magazine (a bit of a misnomer in that it focused about 40% of its attention on drummers of previous eras) in a fleeting attempt to hone my drumming chops. I know I have a couple years worth of these magazines in my parents’ storage shed somewhere, but one issue sticks out to me. The editors of the magazine polled their readership and posted the top 20 (or 25, I don’t remember and I can’t find a link to it online, sorry). One of the best parts of the list was the inclusion of five testimonials from the reader ballots – one sentence quips why these drummers received other drummers’ votes. Ringo appeared maybe half way through the list (appropriately) and I will never forget the testimonials: all five of them read the same exact thing: “Ringo is the reason that I play the drums.” I think many of us take the Beatles for granted (especially people of my generation who have listened to our parents sing their praises our entire lives), but this is a band that meant a tremendous amount to a tremendous amount of people. I don’t remember the precise reason why I started playing the drums (more on that in another post), but I understand how if I grew up in the late 60s that Ringo’s fun-loving, effervescent personality (and deceptively simple playing) would make the drums attractive. Who wouldn’t want to be bopping along behind the kit to any of those Beatles’ classics (or, alternately, hasn’t air drummed that part in “Come Together”).

2. Last year, Ringo announced that he would stop signing autographs through the mail. If you think about it, the man must receive an absurd amount of Beatles memorabilia in the mail – I have a hard enough time responding to a couple e-mails a day, let alone signing all of the pictures, portraits, and other assorted personal items people send along. However, many took this as Ringo devolving into a cranky old man shunning the fans who gave him the wealth and fame he enjoys. I was disappointed at this reaction – he’s already given up some of the world’s greatest songs, what more does he owe us? Needless to say, when I heard this story about how he still signs letters for fans (and with an absurd turnaround time), I smiled heartily. I hope that Ringo always remains the “happy” Beatle.

I picked the live version of “It Don’t Come Easy” for a couple reasons. First, I think it sounds better played a little faster – it has a little more life and urgency as Ringo tries to keep up with the all-stars George Harrison assembled for his charity concert. More importantly, however, is the huge applause that the crowd gives Ringo upon the first line; while musicians and critics snub him, fans still love Ringo and I think that gives us all something to think about. Sure, it’s important to approach everything with a critical eye, but at some point we have to remember why we fell in love with music in the first place. I don’t even care that Ringo flubs the lyrics in the last verse (I didn’t notice it until it was pointed out to me, in fact), it’s still a great song (regardless of the author) and Ringo serves it well as the everyman singer who’s happy to be performing for all of us.

More on Ringo Starr: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

About the Blog

Search Posts

SSC on Shuffle

Follow SSC On:

Elsewhere on the web

SSC on Twitter

Meta