Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged '1973'

October 7, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“We’re an American Band” – Grand Funk Railroad
(Words/music: Don Brewer, available on We’re an American Band, Capitol 1973)

In an alternate universe, the Christopher Walken “I need more cowbell” skit that grew to infamy features “We’re an American Band” rather than “Don’t Fear the Reaper.” This doesn’t mean it would be better (as the guitar intro gave just enough of a pause before Will Ferrell’s cowbell antics), but I could imagine it happening. In some ways, the final product reaches the ideal stressed in that skit – an omnipresent, somewhat over-the-top cowbell. I can imagine the escalation necessary in the skit, from a moderately played cowbell to the flamboyant and joyous dancing Ferrell’s character engages in while playing “more” cowbell. It would require a reworking of the intra-band dynamics – specifically since Ferrell’s cowbell won’t overshadow Don Brewer’s vocals (and, most likely, Brewer himself played the cowbell). Still, it’s hard for me to hear this song and not think of that skit.

As gaudy as the cowbell sounds at times, its presence sets the tone for the song. The cowbell cuts through loud and clear on the verses and breaks and goes silent in the pre-chorus and chorus. When it’s playing, the song rigidly binds itself to the tempo. The guitar specifically feels clipped and angular with a heavy focus on the downbeat. When the cowbell stops, the song starts to groove, in part because the guitar (and later keyboard) fills in some of the empty spaces, but also because the beat feels more relaxed. If the verses focus on the rigors of travel, the chorus is the party. Grand Funk clearly took direction from Todd Rundgren, the producer of the We’re an American Band album, as his production makes the song crisp and snappy, particularly in its transitions from the relaxed chorus to the meticulous verse and back again. Just as life on the road needs structure in order to make it to the next stop on time, this song needs both the looseness and the locked-in sections to play off each other.

More on Grand Funk Railroad: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

September 1, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Time” – Pink Floyd
(Words/music: David Gilmour/Nick Mason/Roger Waters/Rick Wright, available on The Dark Side of the Moon, Capitol 1973)

Today I officially went back to work at my day job as my students started class. Every year, the generational gap widens between my students and me, so I’m fascinated by the pop culture that’s on their radar (or, more appropriately, what’s not on mine). I work in the suburbs, so classic rock has a tight grip on the teenagers in town. At first, this surprised me; I expected teenagers to generally care more about current artists. On further thought, it makes more sense that classic guitar rock would be more up their alley – too much of contemporary “alternative” rock (in the rock radio sense) comes with a label – “emo,” “metal,” etc. – and comes with all of the related cultural baggage. Classic rock also outnumbers contemporary rock on the radio by a three-to-one ratio around here, so these songs get played more than the new angryband on the modern rock charts. Classic rock also comes with a story, especially with a record like The Dark Side of the Moon; it too has its own “emotional baggage,” yet it seems more like a rite of passage than a clique. The Dark Side of the Moon has the Wizard of Oz legend and remains one of those cultural touchstones, at least among budding music aficionados. Suddenly, The Dark Side of the Moon t-shirts (which are trailing to Led Zeppelin in my current tally after day one) make sense.

I remember the first time these songs clicked with me in high school. I was in my friend’s car waiting to leave a regional fair parking lot when the opening of “Time” kicked in. We had been talking through the first couple of songs, but as soon as the bells rang, my friend’s replies silenced and the volume climbed. I knew Pink Floyd but I never really paid too much attention to their songs until my friend silently focused my attention on the introduction. Specifically, I remember marveling at the seamless shifts in time, jumping in and out of half time without calling attention to the metrical shift. From there, I started noticing all of the other details about the song – the dry guitar tone foiled by the languid keyboards, the soulful backing vocals, and the way reverb made the guitar solo feel like it was played in the middle of outer space. I didn’t necessarily have the words to describe it, but I marveled from the back seat nonetheless. It led me to an atypical introduction to the album – I ended up playing “Time” on repeat several times before delving into the whole album. I wasn’t quite ready to delve into the album (and all of its associated mythology) until I was done with this single song. Eventually, I gave up on trying to figure out all of its tricks and took on the album as a whole. While I often think of it as one extended suite of songs, I still think back to that moment where “Time” baffled me.

More on Pink Floyd: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

July 2, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Radar Love” – Golden Earring
(Words/music: Barry Hay and George Kooymans, available on Moontan, MCA 1973)

The words in “Radar Love” detail a weary driver trying to find motivation for completing his long and arduous trip to his love. It could also be about the song “Radar Love” itself – the main character finds himself driving faster and faster with thoughts of his love, his wish for his trip to end, and the music pumped out of the radio. Aside from the time-space ramifications, “Radar Love” could be the song this guy’s listening to as he’s speeding off into the sunset. Long regarded as one of the great “driving songs” of the classic rock era, I’m sure that plenty of us have had that same moment in the car where “Radar Love” comes on and the accelerometer slowly climbs. Aside from being a song about driving fast, “Radar Love” feels perfect for those long stretches of open highway where the car stereo is our only company.

Radar Love achieves this “turbo boost” (or, as the song suggests, the “voice in my head that drives my heel”) by the way it builds up to the chorus. Even though the song maintains the same galloping tempo the entire song, it feels like it’s speeding up as the song builds up to the free-wheeling chorus. The prominent bass line helps to create this effect and makes the song sound like it’s constantly trying to catch up with the steady drumming. Every time the song adds a new layer – whether it’s the horn section or the brief bits of lead guitar in the verses, it feels like another car pulling along side us threatening to pass in front of us. Just as the song feels like it’s racing to the chorus, we steadily (and in my case at least, subconsciously) push our foot down just a little bit more. Even once the chorus ends and the song starts building again, we’re never given the cue to slow down; instead, we start accelerating again as it builds back up. By the time the chorus hits, I’m ready to sing along, paying little attention to how fast I’m speeding by the other cars. I’m just not entirely sure why the song’s called “Radar Love,” as the radar gun will be the exact thing that ruins this party.

More on Golden Earring: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

May 23, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Ooh La La” – Faces
(Words/music: Ronnie Lane and Ron Wood, available on Ooh La La, Warner Brothers 1973)

I’ve spent most of the past two days travelling to and from two separate graduation ceremonies for two of my brothers – one graduated from law school, the other undergrad. Aside from spending a lot of time in the car with my family members discussing whatever random things we thought of to pass the time (the word “epic,” Adam Carolla’s podcast, etc), I’ve been thinking about my own graduation from college four years ago. I remember being drained mentally by the time I finished busily writing papers up until two days before the ceremony. I didn’t have much time to process everything going on and I don’t think I did until much later on. I look back now and think of how naïve I was at 22 and how I had to learn the hard way that jobs don’t fall in your lap just because you show up for the interview. It took almost three years (and another degree) to make up for the lost time, and ultimately it worked out for me, but part of me still wonders where I would be if, as Ron Wood sings, I knew what I know now when I was younger.

I also came to the conclusion that this is a foolish question because I needed to learn these lessons for myself. “Ooh La La” shares this sentiment, as the grandfather warns his grandson about heartbreak and the vicious, unavoidable cycle of falling in love only to get hurt. He gives his grandson three main point – love will inevitably break your heart, simply being told is not enough because you have to learn for yourself, and finally even after gaining this wisdom, it’s easy to be “just a boy again” and fall right back into love. No matter how many times you’re told, you have to experience both the highs and lows for yourself. It’s kind of like the message in a commencement speech – you can listen all you want, but until you’ve lived the scenario yourself, you don’t really “own” it.

Even the song’s mythology displays this message. Rod Stewart, earning success as a solo artist, feuded with the band over material during the recording session, leaving future Rolling Stone Ron Wood to sing the song. Ironically, “Ooh La La” benefits from having Wood sing it, as Stewart’s ego might have overpowered the jangly campfire vibe in the song. It works as this sloppily fun folk song rather than as a Rod Stewart single. Stewart drives this home when he sang the song on his 1998 album When We Were the New Boys, turning the song into a schmaltzy, pseudo-Celtic mess. It’s a song about learning from your mistakes, and it never takes off without Stewart’s mistake to turn down the song.

More on Faces: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

March 12, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Raw Power” – Iggy & The Stooges
(Words/music: Iggy Pop and James Williamson, available on Raw Power, Columbia 1973)

Two things stand out when I listen to “Raw Power.” First, the entire track sounds heavy. This isn’t heavy in a “hard rock” way, but rather that it has a thick, full sound. It’s not as sinister sounding as “I Wanna Be Your Dog” or as edgy as “Search and Destroy.” Instead, “Raw Power” relies on a thick, chugging guitar riff trudging through the entire track. It’s a full sounding guitar heavy on low end (as some of those other Stooges songs sound a little tinny) and it almost gives the impression of being doubled or tripled. This riff also gives Iggy Pop room to be more flexible in his vocal delivery. While he shared the spotlight on other Stooges tracks, “Raw Power” puts Iggy Pop squarely in the spotlight. Appropriately, he sings in a deeper voice (a voice that I think he grows into by the late 70s) while also starting to let loose. He cultivates this tone that’s equal parts sneer, growl, and squeal. By the time James Williamson strangles a solo out of his guitar in the final minute, Iggy Pop has worked himself into such a frenzy as he maintains pace with this onslaught of guitar. It’s the moment on the Raw Power album where Pop fully puts himself in the center of the stage, and Pop sounds completely in control on this track.

While there’s such a heavy (and yes, raw) quality to the song, a few elements seem out of place. Specifically, the piano and the sleigh bells are odd for such a heavy song. In particular, the twinkling piano line (which sounds like a single repeated note) contrasts with the chugging riff and Pop’s manic vocals. I like how it’s used almost like a triangle, as the note locks in with the rest of the band. It’s appropriate that “Raw Power” would bring the piano back to its roots as a percussion instrument, as its relentless feel might inspire listeners to start bashing along. Still, the high note is an interesting choice that seems designed to cut through the rest of the arrangement. I can’t help but wonder if it’s a slightly subversive choice; even in such a heavy track with one of Pop’s definitive vocal performances, this single, high-pitched note remains prominent in the mix just enough to distract our attention away, only to get sucker punched by that mammoth riff waiting for us when we turn back around.

More on Iggy & the Stooges: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 1, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)” – Bruce Springsteen
(Words/music: Bruce Springsteen, available on The Wild, The Innocent, & the E-Street Shuffle, Columbia Records 1973)

Earlier tonight at the Super Bowl, we saw Popular Bruce, as the E-Street band tore through abbreviated versions of “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out,” “Born to Run,” “Working on a Dream,” and a crowd pleasing version of “Glory Days.” Sure, there were other songs I wanted to hear (most of which would have tipped the running time over the twelve allotted minutes, as there were still thirty minutes of football) but I understood the selection. Tonight’s set served as an introduction to the uninitiated or alternately, as Springsteen said this afternoon – “a twelve minute party” (and a twelve minute commercial for his new album and forthcoming tour). It served its purpose – it was a fun set and a worth halftime show – a reward for those who stuck with the game through halftime.

While Springsteen has enjoyed wild amount of popularity, his more important (and more resonating) role is as Populist Bruce. Some of this reputation comes from the E-Street Band’s lengthy tours and marathon concerts, but ultimately the show matters little without substance. Springsteen’s best songs read like melodic short stories – he crafts characters with an eye for detail and empathy that most authors would kill for – so much so that many have lifted these characters from their songs and gave them their own stories. For example, I just recently came across a book titled Meeting Across the River – a collection of stories that are all based on the short song at the end of Born to Run. After halftime, I pulled Bruce Springsteen’s America: The People Listening, A Poet Singing off my shelf and flipped through it (remembering that I started but never finished it). Robert Coles collected ten stories of Americans from many walks of life connecting with different songs in Springsteen’s catalogue. Even searching Amazon for links to those two books brought up plenty more books that I haven’t seen – many of which go beyond the tired biographical route that gluts up the music section at Barnes & Noble. These songs, and ultimately these characters, stick with so many people, myself included, because they seem real. We know Mary and Sandy and the narrator in “Thunder Road” or the guy described in “Glory Days.”

Still, to me, “Rosalita” embodies all of the qualities I love about Bruce Springsteen’s catalog. Musically it’s seven minutes of unadulterated fun – all saxophone, Hammond organ, and the kind of drums I’d play after drinking an entire pot of coffee. Lyrically, Springsteen describes a lover desperately trying to court a woman who’s out of his league (at least socially, as her parents try to keep them apart). The arc is as old as time – Romeo & Juliet, Great Expectations, hell, even Slumdog Millionaire are all tales of unrequited or inaccessible love – but Springsteen puts his twist on it by casting himself in the song (or, at least drawing on his own experience as a struggling, working class rocker). The last two verses – including that flawless call and response section with his background singers – rank among Springsteen’s best vocal performances. At this point, he merges the youthful exuberance on his first two albums with desperation and passion that foreshadowed the creative leap he’d take on Born to Run. It’s the Young Boss singing for sure – he wants Rosie to come on out and have a good time, but never loses his charm when faced with adversity.

More on Bruce Springsteen: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

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