Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged '1976'

December 9, 2009

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“Blitzkrieg Bop” – The Ramones
(Words/music: The Ramones, available on Ramones, Sire 1976)

Admittedly, a lot of things come to mind about the Ramones before I think about how many excellent songs they wrote together. If it were possible to monitor my brain while asking me about the Ramones, I’d imagine that my synapses would jump to all of the trivia associated with the band. That fine, and at some point in my past I’m sure I would be thrilled with the way I could fluidly talk about their place in history and owning Rocket to Russia on vinyl or even making the argument that the Ramones version of punk owes more to Phil Spector than Iggy Pop. However, there’s a marginal amount of joy I find in those facts; perhaps it’s from being in a job surrounded by facts, or perhaps it’s the burden of having so much information available that I feel like I can’t possibly absorb it all.

My point is this – the reason I care about Joey Ramone’s real name or the garage rock bands the Ramones covered ultimately goes back to the music. While historical context can enrich music, it shouldn’t eclipse the song. Ultimately, “Blitzkrieg Bop” isn’t great because the band played it on stage at CBGBs in the late 70s, or because someone puts it in their top five list. “Blitzkrieg Bop” is great because of the way it makes a pulse quicken as soon as the first power chord strikes. In the right moments, “hey, ho, let’s go” stirs my soul like nothing else, and for 2:11, the reason why so many of us know so much about the Ramones takes center stage. It’s easy to get lost in the trivia (especially now with all of the listmaking going on), and that’s part of the fun of music. Let’s just remember the reason why we care about any of it in the first place.

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

November 23, 2009

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“Sir Duke” – Stevie Wonder
(Words/music: Stevie Wonder, available on Songs in the Key of Life, Motown 1976)

Stevie Wonder’s celebration of music (and elegy to the late Duke Ellington) sneaks in a bit of criticism as well. Even though most of the song celebrates the omnipresence of melody in our souls, Wonder offers a qualifier right at the end of the first verse. “Just because a record has a groove doesn’t make it in the groove,” he sings, and he’s right. These are the intangible distinctions music relies upon – the sort that describe the difference between hearing (for instance) a Duke Ellington tune and a Duke Ellington performance. Anyone who sat through a middle school band concert could tell you the difference between playing the notes and performing the song. Sometimes I get caught up thinking about the structure of a song or a specific phrase without paying due attention to the people performing it or the way the singer intonates a line. Simply put, sometimes it’s not about finding the perfect notes – it’s about finding the perfect notes for the performer.

“Sir Duke” falls into that latter category. Not only are the horn notes, drum licks, and guitar lines meticulously constructed and arranged, Wonder gives it a groove like few others. It’s one thing to play all of these phrases properly, but it’s another thing entirely to breathe life into such intricate phrases. Even while his horn section plays those fast runs in unison with the rhythm section, the track never loses its soul. Instead, Wonder sits back, lets out a joyous whoop, and boogies on into the song’s next section. It’s hard to imagine “Sir Duke” as performed by anyone else, let alone performed without sacrificing either the musicianship or groove. Instead, Wonder plays to his entire audience, giving the musicians something to admire and the fans something to feel. In that sense, he belongs in the same league as the people he’s celebrating in this song.

More on Stevie Wonder: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

September 10, 2009

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“Show Me the Way” – Peter Frampton
(Words/music: Peter Frampton, available on Frampton Comes Alive!, A&M 1976)

Before I owned a guitar, I wanted to have a talk box. As someone with dual fascinations with both gadgets and sounds, it was inevitable that I’d succumb to its shiny allure (same with the theramin, and to be honest I’m not really over that crush yet). I remember surfing from webpage to webpage in the late ‘90s, first learning how the talk box worked (redirecting the sound of the guitar through a tube, bouncing off the singer’s vocal cords, and into the microphone) and later finding workable plans for building a talk box. The dream of making ridiculous sounds was within reach! Despite the fact that the raw materials, tools, and time involved would have cost more than buying the actual item (perhaps), I convinced myself that I would do it if I actually owned a guitar. This, of course, is like saying that you’d reupholster your car if you owned one. Now, a solid decade later, I do own an electric guitar sans talk box, and even if it still produces a very specific, instantly recognizable sound, I can live without it.

When I think about the sound that a talk box produces, I immediately think of “Show Me the Way.” Without the effect, it’s a fine pop song, and this entry might be about how Peter Frampton’s voice fills with enthusiastic glee near the end of each verse. It’s that specific melodic phrase combined with the specific sound from the talk box that brings the song to the next level. The talk box gives the song its calling card – a unique sounding introduction produced by a gimmicky piece of equipment. It also brings an already excellent melodic phrase into complete earworm territory. The net result works so well that spending more than five seconds thinking about the phrase “talk box” immediately places that melody into my brain. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. I just think it’s unique in that I can’t think of other songs that I know and love with such a strong association to an object.

More on Peter Frampton: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

August 21, 2009

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“Foreplay / Long Time” – Boston
(Words/music: Tom Scholz, available on Boston, Epic 1976)

In the couple times in my life that it’s come up for discussion, I find that I’m the minority opinion for preferring the “Long Time” part of this track to the “Foreplay” part of the song. That’s not to say that I dislike the opening, but I see it as precisely that – an opening fanfare before a superbly crafted pop song (more on that in paragraph two). The thing that complicates this fanfare / main act argument is the overt display of musicianship in the opening two minute sequence. Maybe I know too many musicians, but when I tell people that I prefer the second part of the song I’ve received strange looks (and not just strange looks for trying to start a serious discussion about a Boston song). It’s a impressive sequence (and one that’s out of my range as a musician), but it strikes me as a sort of throwaway – Scholz and his band messing around in the studio and coming up with this improvisation. In short, it’s very flashy with little substance – the fooling around before getting to the main event. After all, Scholz does name it “Foreplay” for a reason.

This argument also (backhandedly) suggests that Boston leaves their chops in the opening series. They don’t; “Long Time” isn’t as blatant with its virtuosity, choosing to use skill in service of the song. As soon as the drums bring the song back from its ambient break, Scholz plays a blistering lead guitar lick. While it’s not the same furious barrage of notes from the opening, it’s intensely melodic. This is the major difference between the two parts – one focuses on chops, the other focuses on composition. “Long Time” might not be as fast as “Foreplay,” but it’s immaculately arranged. Every keyboard line builds harmonies, melodies dance together, all to create something vividly bright and infectiously catchy. Even the switches in texture – from full band to acoustic guitar, vocal harmonies, and handclaps – accomplish their purpose. Perhaps it’s an issue of preference, but I’ll take the joyous feel of “Long Time” to the rushed sonic onslaught of “Foreplay” anytime.

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

April 30, 2009

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“Blinded by the Light” – Manfred Mann’s Earth Band
(Words/music: Bruce Springsteen, available on The Roaring Silence, Warner Brothers 1976)

During his VH-1 Storytellers’ performance, Bruce Springsteen introduced “Blinded by the Light” as his only number one song and noted the irony that it was someone else’s performance that made it a hit. While I (certainly of a pro-Springsteen bias, so take that for what you will) prefer the original from Springsteen’s debut record Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J., Manfred Mann’s version remains the more popular one. Springsteen semi-jokingly attributes the cover’s success to Mann’s skewering of the “deuce” coup to sound more like “douche.” It’s interesting, because I think one area where the cover improves on the original comes in Mann’s clearer vocal delivery. The young Boss was still trying hard to be Bob Dylan, and perhaps dipped a little too much into his rhyming dictionary. Mann’s version makes these lyrics, which are generally nonsensical to begin with, somewhat clearer, which is the only reason that makes me believe that his pronunciation of “deuce” was intentional.

With these dense lyrics, both songs rely on the music to carry the weight. Springsteen’s version feels incredibly loose, letting the beat swing and the saxophone dance around the stage; even though it’s not one of my favorite Springsteen lyrics, it’s clear that he was having fun leading his band. Mann’s cover reverses this, going for a machine-like gloss. Swirling synthesizers replace the strums and saxophones as Mann’s band shifts speeds, playing with a half-time feel in the verse and resuming the beat to move into the chorus. It’s these rhythmic touches that build and release tension over the song’s seven minutes, even playing with the listener’s expectations by dropping down to only a hi-hat and synthesizer (which I hope he paid royalties to Pete Townshend for, since it sounds right out of his arsenal) for the chorus when we might expect it to crescendo to a climax. Ultimately, it comes down to personal taste, and even if I prefer the original, there are elements of the cover that I enjoy as well. Most of all, I’m amused to see how one song lends itself to two diverse versions. I’d be interested to know what Manfred Mann heard in Springsteen’s original that led him to arrange the song the way he arranged it.

More on Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

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