Some Songs Considered

“Kelly Watch the Stars” – Air
(Words/music: Jean-Benoît Dunckel and Nicolas Godin, available on Moon Safari, Astralwerks 1998) 

At one point in my life, music videos were very important to me.  The thought of a band releasing a video for one of my favorite songs (or falling in love with a song through its video) would have make my week as a teenager, and the best part of a Monday morning was getting up before school and watching part of the previous night’s episode of 120 Minutes before leaving.  Today, even with a staggering amount of videos available on demand through YouTube and other sources, I rarely watch videos.  Part of it is that I generally need to actively seek out a video; in the past, I could put on MTV and watch videos while I did something else.  Now, I have to take the step to think of a specific video and search for it.  Truth be told, at this point in my life I’m not often impressed by videos either.  In most cases, I’d rather just listen to the song.

A video like “Kelly Watch the Stars” (in fair warning, I’m going to talk about it, so you may want to watch it first here) works because it captures the tone rather than mirroring the narrative.  In this case, there isn’t really a narrative to tell in the video, so the slow shots of the ping-pong match and supernatural touches.  Whether it’s the members of Air controlling the ping pong via a game of pong or the lack of an emotional response from the crowd when Kelly falls down (and this is how I’d imagine a video game audience would respond), all of these odd touches somehow work within the world of the video.  Even as Kelly’s spirit momentarily floats above her body, only to return for her triumphant match point, the actions in the video fit in perfectly with the shifts in the song’s arrangement.  At times, the video comes close to rendering the song as mere soundtrack, but watching the video on mute for even a second shows that the short film needs the dreamy music more than the song needs its video.  

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

“Setting Sun” – The Chemical Brothers with Noel Gallagher
(Words/music: Noel Gallagher, Tom Rowlands, and Ed Simons, available on Dig Your Own Hole, Astralwerks 1996)

Even Oasis apologists won’t deny the Gallagher brothers’ overt Beatles’ emulations, and if they lifted a few moves from the Beatles, then Noel certainly took notes on “Tomorrow Never Knows” before making “Setting Sun” with the Chemical Brothers.  The Beatles’ track stands as one of the band’s most experimental moments, including the birth of automatic doubletracking, alternate vocal amplification methods, and a backwards, pitch-shifted guitar solo among others (Wikipedia’s entry on the song goes into future detail for you gearheads).  Gallagher and the Chemical Brothers used a lot of these techniques for similar effects.  They even use a dramatically similar beat as the basis of “Setting Sun.”

Even with shared pieces, the final puzzles differ in both tone and purpose.  The Beatles track, largely composed by John Lennon (McCartney brought the tape loops and Ringo accidentally titled it), grew out of an experience with LSD and draws on the “mind expanding” qualities the drug purportedly offers.  It’s somewhere between a hallucination and a meditation.  Conversely, “Setting Sun” attacks intensely with the abrupt shifts and jarring sounds.  Perhaps it’s an easy association, but hallucinogenics in the 1990s were often associated with these intense, rave-like situations rather than the meditative, mind-expanding experiments in the 1960s.  Appropriately, Gallagher’s lyrics flirt with danger and seduction, as they could either be a vague come-on to someone in a dance club or merely a flirtation with some kind of social taboo.  Either way, it offered Gallagher the opportunity to create something more intense than his day job while also offering the Chemical Brothers the opportunity to align their big beat sound with a historical musical thread.

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

“Surfing on a Rocket” – Air
(Words/music: Jean-Benoît Dunckel and Nicolas Godin, available on Talkie Walkie, Astralwerks 2004)

I like it when music surprises me.  I like when a song comes out of nowhere and demands to be played a dozen times during that first day.  I also like it when a song challenges what I previously thought about a band, with the most obvious way occurring when a band I’ve paid little attention does something that surpasses their prior work.  However, I also like it when I hear a song or an album from a band that makes me see the band in a different light – either by finding something different to appreciate in their work or by producing something that makes me rethink the band altogether. 

Talkie Walkie deepened my appreciation for Air.  Until that point, my knowledge of the band came from seeing the animated “Sexy Boy” video and the ping pong video for “Kelly Watch the Stars” on 120 Minutes in the late 1990s .  Based on these two songs (and maybe one or two listens to Moon Safari), I thought of Air as a band making atmospheric, dreamy pop music.  This is the kind of music that I like to listen to when I’m working (or relaxing).  While I hear similarities with “Surfing on a Rocket,” I remember being surprised that it was the same band.  “Surfing on a Rocket” feels more closed in and focused than the earlier Air songs that I knew; if the ones from Moon Safari sounded like cruising in space, “Surfing on a Rocket” felt like being inside the space shuttle.  Specifically, the relentless “ticking” sound from the hi-hat gives the song a more deliberate rhythmic pulse.  The song still moves at a relatively slow tempo, yet it still sounds restless.  It made me challenge my (somewhat limited) notion that Air was only a “dream pop” band; I thought they created these languid, atmospheric songs well, but that was more or less the extent of their range.  After hearing “Surfing on a Rocket” and the rest of Talkie Walkie, I started to look at Air as a group with a larger range.  Ironically, this also led me to go back and enjoy Moon Safari as well.  Thinking about it now, I wonder how many other bands I’ve been missing out on because I’m stuck looking at them in a specific way.  It’s a pleasant reminder of the value of taking a step back in order to reassess the “big picture” from time to time.

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

“Napoleon Says” – Phoenix
(Words/music: Phoenix, available on It’s Never Been Like That, Astralwerks 2006)

When a band like Phoenix does its job well, it’s easy to dismiss them.  Their songs are slick, immaculately produced, and insanely catchy; in a parallel universe, a handful of Phoenix songs would be overplayed radio jams.  At points, they’re a little too slick for some people, making it difficult to latch on to the songs.  At first, it makes great background music (I’ve been listening to Alphabetical while grading papers recently), but like many great pop songs these tracks leave their mark.  I find that random melodies (in particular, the hook to “(You Can’t Blame it on) Anybody” keeps popping up) run through my brain throughout the day.  This is the deceptiveness of most of Phoenix’s songs – they seem simple and easy to dismiss, but something in your subconscious mind will draw you back in to their records.

Then there’s the exceptions – the songs that forego the subtle route and attack head on.  The songs on Phoenix’s third album It’s Never Been Like That, beginning with “Napoleon Says,” strike in a more immediate fashion.  The guitar chimes like a siren signaling arrival and demanding attention.  Just as soon as it ropes its listeners, the song shifts and the siren becomes a stuttering funk riff, and just as quickly the feel shifts slightly again.  These abrupt changes sound like deliberate attempts to shake up their style, but “Napoleon Says” retains the same attention to detail as its smoother predecessors.  In particular, the bass drum and bass guitar lock in with each other immediately, making these simultaneous notes punch harder.  This focus on precision makes the song feel quick rather than chaotic, showing in about three minutes that Phoenix is a band in total control and ready to take their listeners wherever they want to bring them.  With songs as good as “Napoleon Says,” we’re willing to follow their lead as well.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t note that every time I hear “Napoleon Says,” I think of The Basketball Jones podcast, an excellent NBA podcast put out (almost) every weekday by three wonderful Canadian gentlemen.  Like Phoenix, Skeets, Melas, and JD do a number of things well on their show – they can break down recent performances like pros, discuss trades and rumors while still remaining realistic, and be downright hilarious.  It’s also immaculately produced and incredibly professional (and, at times, better than the shows the professionals put on).  They also use my favorite part of “Napoleon Says” in their opening.  I highly recommend checking them out if you’re into basketball or even if you’ve lost track of the NBA, as their show rekindled my interest in the Association. (Also, Tumblr folks - their webpage is a Tumblr, so you can follow them on your dashboard)

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

“Running Up That Hill” – Placebo
(Words/music: Kate Bush, available on Sleeping with Ghosts (Bonus Disc), Astralwerks 2003)

It must be hard to cover an iconic song.  For no other reason, your version of the song will cause plenty of skeptic ears to turn towards your band, many of which are experiencing your band for the first time.  Then there’s the question of interpreting the song – perform a faithful version and run the risk of being called derivative, or attempt a reinterpretation and run the risk of being called blasphemers.  Personally, I like to hear cover songs reinvented, at least slightly.  I’m not always a firm believer in the “make it your own” cover philosophy, but I think there’s value in highlighting a different part of the song, bringing that element to the listener’s attention and, in the best situations, approaching the original with a fresh set of ears.

Therefore, I have a lot of respect for Placebo for tackling “Running Up That Hill,” a song with at least two iconic elements – Bush’s distinctive vocals and that terrific thunderous drum beat running through the song.  Bush sings her divine request for men and women to switch places like an enthusiastic hymn, offering up this opportunity to see how the other sex lives as a tribute to the divine power.  Placebo’s take on “Running Up that Hill” slows the tempo down, replacing those distinctive drums with a subtler rhythmic pulse.  The main synthesizer melody in the original comes through an icy sounding piano and with the heartbeat bass drum and Brian Molko’s eerie voice it sounds more sinister than the original.  Where Bush’s original has a large, almost cavernous feel to it, the Placebo version sounds bleaker and desolate – the great cave replaced with a dark, snowy, seemingly endless field.  Similarly, whether a result of the slower tempo or the darker tones in the track, this version of “Running Up That Hill” sounds more despondent than joyous.  Perhaps this is the other side of the bargain – once we’ve earned the knowledge Bush desires, we’re haunted by these differences.  In this case, we’re running up the hill to try to evade these thoughts.  Even with this reinvention, it’s still a compelling song (so compelling that I often find one listen unsatisfactory and immediately repeat it).  It’s just interesting in a different way.

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