Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged '1990s'

March 14, 2010

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“Only Happy When It Rains” – Garbage
(Words/music: Garbage, available on Garbage, Almo Sounds 1995)

For the record, I hate the rain. The only thing that made me happy about all of the rain in the Northeast this weekend was that it wasn’t snow. While driving home in the rain today and listening to the radio, something (I wish I remembered the song) made me think of an accusation a friend made several years ago. “You listen to sad music,” she said, and while I do like sad songs, it’s never been strictly because the lyrics are sad. I know that some people like to put on sad movies when they are sad, but I’ve never really felt that way with music. Instead, I find myself retreating into favorite albums when I’m sad. If anything, I think I gravitate toward happier music – or at least music that makes me happy. If anything, “sad songs” generally need to be that much better.

So I imagine this was a statement on the sound of the music – quieter, more somber arrangements tend to sound “sadder” than something with a lively beat. A quick survey of the songs I’ve written about (via the “random post” link in the sidebar) led to a disproportionate amount of lively, happy songs, which would tend to disprove this idea. Anyway, the combination of all of these thoughts – this random memory and a rain soaked weekend – made me think of “Only Happy When It Rains.” In the context of this discussion, this is a song that doesn’t overtly sound gloomy, save for the repeated declarations that happiness requires misery. Members of the band claimed it was a tongue-in-cheek reference to liking alternative rock, but I always thought of that as reductionist thought anyway. If anything, this is a song about finding happiness in a sound that others find gloomy or jarring. If every single person saw happiness in the same things, our world would be less interesting.

So today, my thought is that the music itself is neither happy nor sad. Instead, we fill in the emotions. These might change over time and they may not transfer from person to person, but I suppose that’s why we have so many different songs in our lives. If one doesn’t make you happy, there are plenty of others out there that will.

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

March 7, 2010

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“Pick a Part That’s New” – Stereophonics
(Words/music: Stuart Cable, Kelly Jones, and Richard Jones, available on Performance and Cocktails, V2 1999)

If I stop to think about it, Kelly Jones’ voice bothers me. He has a gravelly edge to his voice, particularly when he’s approaching the limits of his range, that sounds good on paper. On record, it’s generally fine too – I like a fair number of Stereophonics songs, so it is far from a dealbreaker, and I’m not sure I’d prefer to hear someone else sing any of them. So it generally comes down to the off moments where I’m finding my attention drawn to his voice rather than the melody or the lyrics. I guess, to boil it down, on the good songs it’s a nonissue, on the weaker songs it’s infuriating.

So I was kind of surprised tonight when I found myself focusing on his voice when I heard “Pick a Part That’s New.” This is one of my favorite Stereophonics singles, largely because of that terrific guitar riff and its generally sunny demeanor. The only explanation I have for this is that I’ve heard this song so many times that my attention shifted looking for something new. Earlier on this blog, I’ve suggested that songs that reveal different virtues with repeated listening lead to a rewarding relationship of repeated listening. In this case, repeated listening brought something unfavorable (or, more than likely, subconsciously overlooked) out front. I’m confident that “Pick a Part That’s New” and I will get through this rough patch. I might just need a night or two sleeping on the couch.

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

March 5, 2010

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“Root Down” – The Beastie Boys
(Words/music: Beastie Boys, available on Ill Communication, Capitol Records 1994)

Boiled down to one sentence, the Beastie Boys began as brats and became Buddhists, and somewhere in between they made their most interesting work. With the benefit of hindsight, this broad arc makes senses given that the Beastie Boys strike me as guys with lots of ideas. Whether it’s the range of sounds in their catalogue, the crowded production the Dust Brothers lent to Paul’s Boutique, or just the rapid pace the three MCs delivered their lyrics (and their tendency to accent each others’ rhymes by tripling up on certain words), the Beasties always seemed willing to explore an idea and see where it took them.

“Root Down” is neither the weirdest nor the best track in the Beastie Boys catalogue (or on Ill Communication, to be honest), but it synthesizes many of their best qualities. It combines together the live instrumentation (or at least the spirit of live instrumentation – I can’t quite tell) with a DJ’s touch. The feel of the track depends equally on the funk guitar that swells underneath the hook as it does with the gentle hiss of the record needle hitting the groove at the start and the hairpin turn the DJ triggers right after the hook. Lyrically, the Beasties are nimble, rhyming quickly and somewhat breathless. It’s a distinctive flow for a Beastie’s track; as with much of their work, the distinct tone of their voices and their cadence tips off the listener within a few words. In essence, “Root Down” works as an interesting introduction to the Beastie Boys. Proceeding deeper into their catalogue means scattering across their different stylistic endeavors, but “Root Down” captures their general essence as much as a single track can encapsulate a group with so many ideas.

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

February 25, 2010

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“Grace, Too (Live)” – The Tragically Hip
(Words/music: The Tragically Hip, available on Live Between Us, Sire 1998)

Between the first and second verse of “Grace, Too,” lead singer Gordon Downie lays out one of the best improvised non-sequitors I’ve heard placed in a song. “Jesus Christ, a big fucking bear!” He yells, charging his words with the kind of surprise and excitement that one experience when viewing a wild animal from a safe distance. It’s appropriate for a couple reasons. First, this particular version of “Grace, Too” contains three distinct sections of improvisation and/or embellishment on the original song. There’s the opening, courteous nod to the Hip’s opening band (and how many would start their live album by mentioning another band in such complimentary terms?), one is this bear monologue, and the third is the “I was raised on TV / like so many of you I see around me” spontaneous verse over the song’s closing sequence. This sort of improvisation, even if it feels disconnected from the rest of the song, isn’t unprecedented.

More importantly, Downie’s sincerity and intensity during this “bear” line is how he operates. Once he gets going, Downie’s voice creates the bends in an otherwise linear song. His subtle vocal variations, whether sliding slightly closer toward a scream or simply shifting his cadence, also help to highlight the building intensity in the rest of the song. Downie sounds immersed in the song – and perhaps lost in his narrator, while singing – so perhaps these improvisations come from “living” these characters for a few minutes. Perhaps he imagines this song’s protagonist in a situation where he might see a giant bear. Maybe he just thought it was funny. Regardless, it somehow works, and every time I hear it I smile a little bit and make a mental note to delve deeper into the Hip’s catalogue, if only to see what other gems Downie might improvise.

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

February 22, 2010

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“Atlantic City (Gonna Make a Million Tonight)” – East River Pipe
(Words/music: F.M. Cornog, available on The Gasoline Age, Merge Records 1999)

I won’t try to rehash Fred Cornog’s journey from homeless junkie to reviled pop recluse because others have covered his biography better. You should go read the feature on Cornog from New York Magazine or the Allmusic entry for East River Pipe (or the recent Merge Records oral history Our Noise), because it’s difficult to separate the biography from the songs, specifically the idea of a guy making these weirdly charming songs with keyboards and drum machines in his bedroom.

The single element that stands out the most to me – more than the nine and a half minutes of running time (although the last minute is mostly just a sound collage), more than the hopefulness in Cornog’s voice – is the way the long keyboard notes and delayed guitar shine in the background like a fluorescent light. It ends up giving the song “soft lighting” as well – keeping the focus on the dream of becoming a millionaire rather than the impossibility of the feat. Eventually, I end up losing myself in the reverberations, as the delayed guitar decays into that strange hum of slot machines whirling. This is the point where Cornog’s dream fades into reality – one where (in my experience, anyway), casinos are far more depressing than those “Vegas, baby!” exclamations might make you think. For a long stretch of time tonight, every time the song hit the eight minute mark, I went back near the beginning and dropped the cursor, getting lost in that loop again for a few more minutes.

Then I thought of how its creator made this in his bedroom studio. At that point, I looked around at all the clutter in my bedroom, dropped the cursor back around the two minute mark, and closed my eyes in an attempt to fall back into the sound.

More on East River Pipe: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 18, 2010

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“100,000 Fireflies” – The Magnetic Fields
(Words/music: Stephin Merritt, available on Distant Plastic Trees, Red Flame 1991)

I was pleasantly surprised to see that the latest version of Stephin Merritt’s Magnetic Fields close one of their recent shows with “100,000 Fireflies,” as I didn’t know that the band still reached that far back into their catalogue. I’m mostly curious to see how their string-heavy recent lineup would interpret a song that relies so much on its production aesthetic. The keyboard, bouncy drum machine, and Susan Anway’s vocals make this recording of “100,000 Fireflies” sound like a slightly warped music box – it still sounds beautiful and pretty despite being a little weird. I remember the first time I heard this version after knowing (and loving) Superchunk’s cover and being amazed at the way Anway’s vocals and the change in octave on the keys sounded during the “I’m afraid of the dark without you next to me” line.

Trying to resolve the two distinct versions tonight, the best I can do is to compare them both to fireflies. The Superchunk version draws on the frenetic energy of a firefly humming around. Thus, their spin on the narrator’s loneliness draws on this restlessness and focuses it on pleading for another opportunity. This Anway-Merritt recording (perhaps influenced by my vision of a “100,000 Fireflies” music box) looks at the firefly inside the glass jar with its beauty and wonder carefully preserved. Their version feels smaller and more restrained yet feels more distant and isolated like an object untouched. Like the bugs stuck inside the jar, the narrator feels alone yet doesn’t quite know what to do to mend heartbreak. Instead, the narrator swaps out the missing lover for lightning bugs to find some solace in the dark the same way one might cling to a song when feeling lonely. This quiet, understated loneliness might not burn with the Superchunk version’s intensity, but it might cut deeper. While it looks bright and beautiful from far away, the lonliness doesn’t reveal itself until we get closer, the same way we wouldn’t notice the jar enclosing the beautiful fireflies unless we’re looking for it specifically.

(I wrote about the Superchunk version of “100,000 Fireflies” in the previous post – click here to read it).

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

February 17, 2010

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“100,000 Fireflies” – Superchunk
(Words/music: Stephin Merritt, available on Incidental Music 1991 – 95, Merge Records 1995)

I first knew “100,000 Fireflies” through the Superchunk version, and because my original copy of Incidental Music was on a CD-R, I didn’t know it wasn’t a Superchunk song. With a bit of hindsight and and much deeper love for Superchunk’s catalogue, it stands out from a bunch of their earlier songs. Lyrically it’s a little more dramatic than Mac McCaughan usually gets (I don’t think the phrase “I want to kill myself” appears in any of his songs). Their cover highlights a lot of the things I love about the early Superchunk, particularly their fusion of melody and mayhem without sacrificing either. It’s also more complex than the three chord pop-punk birthed at the end of the decade; the arrangement rises and falls in both volume and intensity.

There’s a certain justice to follow the “when I turn up the tone / on my electric guitar” lyric with electric guitars, and the energy Superchunk breathes into the song is infectious. McCaughan’s strained vocals, particularly in the post-chorus section, lean on the desperation in the lyrics. The guitar slows down and feels heavier as he pleads for another chance. Gradually, Jim Wilbur embellishes on the main riff, twisting it into a brief solo before the song ends.

In many ways, Superchunk gets right to the core of the song, bringing the urgency to the forefront with distorted guitars. Like the Magnetic Fields version (and more on them in the next post – give me a half hour or so), the Superchunk cover relies on crafting a specific mood. Their mood draws on the ones that run beneath the surface – ones I might not have gleaned just from the original version alone.

(Part 2 on the Magnetic Fields’ version can be read here)

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

February 15, 2010

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“It’s a Shame About Ray” – The Lemonheads
(Words/music: Evan Dando and Tom Morgan, available on It’s a Shame About Ray, Atlantic 1992)

“It’s a Shame About Ray” fascinates me because it hints at a story more than it actually tells one. Evan Dando laments someone without giving a specific reason why. The best guess is that Ray is gone; it could be anything from Ray just leaving before Dando arrived to moving away to passing away. It doesn’t really matter, because this lament ends up telling more about Dando’s narrator than about Ray. Whether intentional or not, Ray becomes an excuse for the narrator reflect on himself. He tells us that he’s “never been too good with names” twice, and in between he suggests that he’d be better off putting his feelings back with the cobwebs – hidden away in a place rarely touched. Whether he’s an introvert or he’s extracting a lesson from Ray’s situation, the narrator sounds resolved to keep to himself for a little while.

Thankfully, the entire song isn’t as mopey as it sounds. Dando sings with a deceptively melodic voice; he isn’t belting out the song like an arena rock singer, but he still projects his voice with a bright tone. In an era where singers hid behind their hair and a wall of distortion, Dando puts his voice front and center (ironically with an introverted narrator). Even with his generally upbeat tone, Dando finds just enough sadness in his notes at the right times. Perhaps the moderate tempo helps to give the song a general melancholy quality around the end of the verses, but something about the melody keeps it from completely contradicting the lyrics. It’s difficult not to let the music influence the story in the lyrics, but with so few clues in the narrative it doesn’t feel like too much of a leap to suggest that even while he laments Ray, he feels like it’s for the best (whether for him, for Ray, or for all involved). Perhaps that’s just the optimist in me hearing what he wants to hear.

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

February 12, 2010

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“Noise Brigade (live)” – The Mighty Mighty Bosstones
(Words/music: Nate Albert, Dicky Barrett, & The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, available on Tibetan Freedom Concert, Grand Royal / Capitol 1997)

“A dime for a dozen if that’s what you’re after” stands out to me in this song even if I’m not quite sure what to make of it. It seems accidentally referential, as the Mighty Mighty Bosstones were the ones who broke open the late 1990s ska-punk revival (and, effectively, opened the door for the “dime for a dozen” ska bands to have their fifteen minutes). It doesn’t sound cynical; the Bosstones never struck me as a band jealous or resentful of their peers. Quite the opposite, as I have a vivid memory of Dicky Barrett proclaiming how Reel Big Fish would follow in their footsteps performing on the marquee before the MTV awards.

There’s the thought that Dicky Barrett isn’t describing his band (or any band, for that matter) but his voice – one that he asks “should I call this my range or a ridge?” This live version, from the 1997 Tibetan Freedom Concert, only supports that claim. His band sounds as tight as ever with horn hits and guitar lines all falling into place. Then there’s Barrett’s voice sounding like he’s trying to sing exclusively out of the back of his throat. For a man with such a naturally strong speaking voice (as shown in the breakdown and an introduction on the concert compilation’s previous track) the way he’s singing undercuts his voice’s power. Barrett doesn’t always sound like this, but the imperfections only magnify the self-critique in the lyrics. Regardless, Barrett doesn’t need to sound like an angel, particularly when the rest of the band sounds this heavenly.

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

February 10, 2010

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“Dig Me Out” – Sleater-Kinney
(Words/music: Sleater-Kinney, available on Dig Me Out, Kill Rock Stars 1997)

OK, so this song came to mind in part because I do need to dig out my car from the snow storm that hit the northeast (and continues right now, I think). Truth be told, this is one of the last songs I need to hear right now. I haven’t left the house all day and it’s been completely unproductive. Whether it’s because I haven’t done too much or because I can’t go anywhere, I’ve been feeling stir crazy. Hearing a song like “Dig Me Out,” particularly when I should be forcing myself into bed, only heightens that cabin fever-fueled anxiety. Thankfully I went against habit and didn’t make an entire pot of coffee today. I can only imagine how I would feel stuck home, over-caffinated with the wiry guitars in “Dig Me Out” making my pulse quicken beyond a healthy level.

That being said, “Dig Me Out” serves as a solid litmus test for someone new to Sleater-Kinney. Their sound went in different directions – occasionally darker, occasionally fuller – but “Dig Me Out” represents a sort of “home base” for the band. The guitars and drums push forward quickly, shifting from a straight-ahead stomp into a half-time arpeggiated breakdown. These guitars provide a fast counter-melody to Corin Tucker’s bellowing vocals. She sings with such power and force that it feels overwhelming at times, particularly with the fast moving arrangement underneath her. In a strange way, though, her vocals provide an anchor for the song, letting those guitars cut around quickly. Those who might be turned off by her voice get a strong sense of Tucker’s upper register in “Dig Me Out,” but those who find it exciting or impressive will likely find the trio’s minimalism surprisingly dynamic. Considering that (most) of their songs feature two guitars, drums, and voice, Sleater-Kinney makes the most of a few pieces.

More on Sleater-Kinney: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 9, 2010

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“Atlantic City” – The Band
(Words/music: Bruce Springsteen, available on Jericho, Rhino 1993)

This Levon Helm led version of “Atlantic City “ threw me for a loop the first time I heard it. I know Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska by reputation as some of his starkest songs with some of his darkest characters. So hearing the brightness of the accordion and mandolin on the Band’s version caught me off guard. For a song where the narrator turns to gambling as a desperate solution to problems, The Band’s version sounded too bright. It sounded more like a leisurely afternoon on the boardwalk than terse moments inside a casino.

So I went back to Springsteen’s recording and found his original version closer to this one than I remembered. Sure, this isn’t the inspired, determined protagonist associated with a lot of his later work, but the main character in “Atlantic City” isn’t completely devoid of hope. He tempers his observation that “everyone dies” with the hope that “everything that dies someday comes back.” Whether it’s what he wants to believe or it’s a true sign of faith, hope remains nonetheless. Even some of the sonic details in the Band’s version that I found surprising – specifically the mandolin and the harmony vocals – exist in Springsteen’s recording too. Whether Springsteen plays a mandolin or an acoustic guitar in its upper register, a string instrument accompanies him the same way his double-tracked vocal harmonizes with him during the chorus. Levon Helm and his bandmates did what good covers often do by highlighting certain aspects of the original. As a result, it creates a distinctly unique version of the song that differentiates itself while still paying tribute to the original.

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

February 6, 2010

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“Candy Everybody Wants” – 10,000 Maniacs
(Words/music: Dennis Drew & Natalie Merchant, available on MTV Unplugged, Elektra 1993)

My iTunes library on my current computer goes back to July 2007. “Candy Everybody Wants” is the song that’s been played at least once (an embarrassingly large percentage of my library has a playcount of zero) that went back the furthest until moments ago when I played it. The suggestion is that I went two and a half years without listening to the song, and that’s not likely true; I may have heard it on Pandora or it may have played on my iPod on one of the times where my music didn’t sync (not to mention clicking on another song before it ended). Regardless, I haven’t heard it a lot since July 2007 and that makes me kind of sad.

The melody in “Candy Everybody Wants” suits Natalie Merchant’s voice well. Merchant’s rich tone serves it well while still giving her a few minutes to show her vocal strengths, particularly at the end of the verses. Lyrically, the song tangentially addresses the debate about content in the mass media, specifically whether the entertainment industry should be ashamed for glorifying sex and violence or whether it’s merely listening to and providing for its audience’s demands. The whole thing, the melody, the assortment of stringed instruments, and the subject are all pleasant – certainly charming and clever, but not in a particularly outstanding way. I suppose this is how I could go from July 14, 2007 to today without having heard the song; it’s the kind of song that might lose its charm when in constant rotation. While two and a half years is too long, in this case absence made my ears grow fonder.

More on 10,000 Maniacs: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 2, 2010

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“Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me (Live)” – George Michael and Elton John
(Words/music: Elton John and Bernie Taupin, available on Duets, MCA 1992)

Maybe it’s from a lifetime of waiting rooms filled with easy listening music, but given the right circumstances a sappy song hits the spot. It’s not necessarily a specific mindset; it could just be a moment where a chord change captures my attention or a harmony makes me look up from what I’m doing. This isn’t to say that every bit of muzak can stir a soul. Rather, there are moments that deserve more than something to cover up the sound of magazine pages flipping.

“Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me” immediately comes to mind. It’s not the smartest or deepest Elton John song. I don’t even really have a deep personal attachment or association with this song the way I do with a song like “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters.” It’s just an extremely well written ballad with some stunning moments. Particularly, the harmony at the beginning of the chorus melts my heart even on my grumpiest days. When put into George Michael’s hands – (whose tabloid tales overshadow his pipes) – this approaches ballad perfection. I don’t watch American Idol (mainly because I don’t watch a lot of TV) but I imagine this is similar to the show’s transcendent moments – where a gifted singer takes a beautiful song and rivals the original. For me, at least, this is the definitive version, and the one that I’d actually listen to outside of a waiting room.

More on George Michael: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

January 30, 2010

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“Sucked Out” – Superdrag
(Words/music: John Davis, available on Regretfully Yours, Elektra 1996)

Sitting there right next to the not-so-subtle critique of the mainstream music hype cycle (and think of how much quicker it’s become since then!) is a self-conscious awareness. Superdrag never matched the popularity of “Sucked Out” yet seemed to know their fate from the song’s first line. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of any other one-hit-wonder about being a one-hit-wonder, but here’s Superdrag asking what would become of them after their fifteen minutes ticked away (for the record: they made a few more albums (only one more on a major label) and John Davis became born again).

And in there, with the overt commentary and acute self-awareness, is a moment of sheer joy. When it comes time for the hook, the rest of the band backs off and Davis unleashes the song’s signature line in a visceral scream. Even if the question gets to the heart of his complaint – the industry lacks soul, essentially – and hits a little close to home for a band who would exit the spotlight as quickly as they entered it, it’s a moment of unbridled joy. Just take it for a ride; when it gets to the hook, sing along at the top of your lungs. When done right, it’s neither self-conscious nor cynical (and yes, it garners odd looks from the people in the next lane, especially in the summer when the windows are open). Ultimately, this is why the song still sounds fun – not because it’s still prescient, not because it’s self-aware, but because for a few seconds, it reduces otherwise sane people into screaming messes.

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

January 17, 2010

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“All the X’s Have Wings” – Helium
(Words/music: Mary Timony, available on The Dirt of Luck, Matador 1995)

I missed out on Helium the first time around (I was 12, so I think I get a pass), and even after a few suggestions, it took until last year for me to approach the band with any extended attention. In many ways, finding an older band to explore is more exciting than falling for a new release – there’s an entire catalog immediately available to explore and people to discuss the records with and ask for “next step” type recommendations. However, Helium was a bit of a dead end discovery for me – they only had a couple albums (and I didn’t get the Pirate Prude EP until I joined eMusic today) and their flirtation with alt-rock success came a couple years too early to hit most of my friends. Regardless, I made up for lost time in 2009 by giving these albums – particularly The Dirt of Luck – their due.

I naturally loved the different guitar sounds, from the distorted snarl Mary Timony culled from hers to the way Polvo’s Ash Bowie explored the often neglected higher end of the bass guitar’s range. Thus, I’m not surprised that that I leaned toward the songs build primarily around Timony’s voice and guitar. The way Timony’s high notes bleed into each other, especially when juxtaposed by the slinky, predominantly lower tone guitar notes, sounds harrowingly beautiful. The opening to “All the X’s Have Wings” particularly captures Timony in this mode, balancing a slow yet lovely melody with the unsettling tone of her guitar. When the rest of the band joins in at full power (especially the huge drum sound), it brings out the urgency in Timony’s voice – rushing her slightly before slowing back down when the spotlight moves back to her. The balance of the overloaded moments with the long stretches where Timony’s guitar notes fade into silence highlight the extremes in each, leaving plenty of space for Timony in the center to calmly yet assertively proclaim her perversions to us.

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

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