Some Songs Considered

“Call Me (Spanish Version)” – Blondie
(Words/music: Debbie Harry and Giorgio Moroder, available on Singles Box, EMI 2004) 

I don’t remember the exact circumstances of how I ended up with this version of “Call Me,” but I imagine it went something like this – while browsing someone’s shared music on Soulseek years back, I saw something labeled as “Call Me (Spanish Version)” and stopped in my tracks.  By my logic, this had to be mislabeled in one of two ways – either it wasn’t Blondie or it wasn’t truly in Spanish.  Nonetheless, I was still curious and downloaded it anyway.  It turns out I was wrong – this is most definitely Debbie Harry singing and it is most definitely in Spanish.

It’s been a decade since I studied Spanish, so I’m not sure how literally they translated the lyrics, nor am I really clear why Blondie recorded a version of the song with these alternate Spanish lyrics.  What I do know is that it’s odd to hear a familiar song sung in a familiar voice and not understand any of the words.  Unlike, say, Seu Jorge’s Portuguese David Bowie covers, this isn’t a different artist performing the song.  What started as a joke (this version definitely ended up at the end of a few mixes over the years) because an odd fascination – the rare example of something that sounds completely familiar yet entirely foreign at the same time. 

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

“What Do I Get? (Live Version)” – The Buzzcocks 
(Words/music: Pete Shelley, original version available on Singles Going Steady, EMI 1979)  

Way back in the dark ages of the internet (for me, that means the late 1990s), I acquired this version of “What Do I Get” most likely from Napster.  Even as I’ve gone through two different Buzzcocks’ collections and a few of their albums, I always come back around to this particular version of the song.  Even though it isn’t wildly different than the studio version (or the Peel Sessions version I’ve also heard), whenever I hear a different version part of me wishes that I was listening to this one instead.

Part of it, I’m sure, is that the band plays it a couple notches faster in this version making it a touch more urgent and unpolished.  Part of it, also, comes back to the odd tics in Shelley’s voice in this one.  Whether it’s the way he off-handedly counts the song in or the silly falsetto he slips into near the end, I’m left filling in those parts on my own when playing the original in a jukebox or hearing it on the radio.  I’m also willing to admit a personal attachment (and nostalgia too) for this version, but it goes beyond just transporting it from hard drive to hard drive.  

That being said, if anyone can identify the source of this (and, if it exists, point me to the rest of that show I suppose), I’d be much obliged.  

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

“My Way” – Sid Vicious
(Words: Paul Anka, music: Claude François and Jacques Revaux, available on Sid Sings, EMI 1979)

Truth be told, I have little to add to this.  It’s memorable in part because Sid Vicious died a premature and violent death, in part because it’s tweaking Sinatra, and in part because Scorsese used it over the credits of Goodfellas.  If anything, interpretation probably falls right down the middle between Vicious desecrating a standard and Vicious embodying the song’s denouncement of detractors.  Whether used to celebrate a full life or simply victory on one’s terms, “My Way” always came off to me as a bit too boastful to be truly moving.  

Even if I’m not really sure whether Vicious means this belligerently or earnestly, I know that I let off a little laugh when he sneers his way into “regrets.”  That, and I think of Ben Garant and Kerri Kenney’s portrayal of Sid and Nancy on a game show on The State and I laugh again.  I’m not quite sure what the agenda here is, but this is probably where all those ironic punk covers of decidedly non-punk songs come back to.  In that case, I’m torn; I admire the prototype yet hate the replications.

More on Sid Vicious: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Let’s Make This Precious (BBC Version)” – Dexys Midnight Runners
(Words/music: Jim Patterson and Kevin Rowland, available on Let’s Make this Precious, EMI 2003 – originally on Too-Rye-Ay, Mercury 1982)

I don’t know if it’s a byproduct of listening to so much music, or from growing older, or just a high personal standard, but I find it a very rare occurrence when a song immediately grabs my attention and keeps me transfixed on it for its entire length.  This happened on multiple occasions when I first got the Let’s Make this Precious compilation a few years ago.

Yes, I was as skeptical as you might be right now – I knew Dexys (which, I’m told doesn’t have an apostrophe – can anyone verify this?) from “Come on Eileen” – a song that was a hit when I was a baby.  It was that really catchy song with the video where they all wore overall and looked like they hadn’t showered in days.  

I was not prepared for what I heard.  Sure, there were fiddles and banjos and celtic folk songs (“Because of You” comes highly recommended for that), but there’s also horns and organ and, god forbid, touches of soul music.  Each of the singles on the collection unveiled a new wrinkle – some are midtempo, 60s soul inspired pop songs, some sound like folk songs run through a Memphis soul section, and others came across like Van Morrison with the horns turned up louder.  Still, even with all the genre hopping, these sounds sound fresh and exciting rather than like parody or weak genre experiments; it gives the impression that Kevin Rowland and company listened to and loved a wide variety of music and took inspiration from all of these different sources.

“Let’s Make This Precious” captures all of these elements. The tempo pushes just enough that the song feels lively without feeling urgent, the horns punctuate the melody perfectly without overtaking the arrangement, and Rowland’s vocals are soulful enough to do the song justice and rough and quirky enough to keep it from sounding like he’s imitating his soul idols.  Sure, my brain melts just a little bit at the thought of a verifiable soul singer with these songs (perhaps yesterday’s subject Jackie Wilson – referenced in the Van Morrison song Dexys covers on this same album), but Rowland’s Engligh affectations are his trademark.  When he stops singing in the bridge and speaks the last few lines, declaring “that if it’s pure, I’ll feel it from here,” he brings as much charm and character to “Let’s Make it Precious” as Wilson did on “Higher and Higher.”  Still, to this day, I can’t skip a Dexys song when it comes up on shuffle.

More on Dexys Midnight Runners: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“I Found that Essence Rare” – Gang of Four
(Words/music: Gang of Four, available on Entertainment!, EMI 1979)

A lot of music, especially in the punk/post-punk vein, revolves around a cycle of tension and release.  Sometimes, the music creates the tension with fast, pounding rhythms that implore the audience to find release through relentless pogo-ing or slam dancing.  Sometimes, the music itself builds in tension throughout the song, waiting for that moment of release.  This isn’t unique to punk, though, as even my basic recollection of music theory remembers talking about resolving chords back to the tonic – the home base where the tones are exactly what the ear expects to hear.  Perhaps we’re drawn to tension-filled music because it makes us appreciate the resolution that much more.  Maybe we just like being wound up sometimes.

On “I Found that Essence Rare,” Gang of Four winds everything so tight that there’s little room for anything else.  The guitars forge ahead devoid of any reverb; rather than letting the notes ring out and dissolve, they quickly forge ahead like knives chipping away piece by piece.  Jon King’s words take a similar action, cutting into bourgeoisie culture of politics, tabloids, and fashion with direct, focused observations.  Something strange happens amidst this tension – a groove develops.  While funk musicians like to talk about getting “loose” when laying down a groove, Gang of Four achieves their unique groove as a sort of nervous twitch, like muscles that spasm slightly when held tense long enough.  It’s a sort of claustrophobic, paranoid trance that manages to have some spring in it.  There’s even a drum break in the bridge (granted, it’s more Mission of Burma than Parliament)

The only glimmer of release from this tightly-wound dissection of consumer culture comes in the chorus.  Appropriately, the chorus shifts from observations of the outside world to a first person statement – there’s refuge from the demonic outside world within oneself, but it’s fleeting at best.  Those same guitars come crashing through and bring back more images of hollow politicians and trash journalism.  Then, it’s back to the nerves.

Finally, the onslaught stops, but there’s no real resolution.  We’re wound up and dancing (twitching?) along, only to have the groove swept out from under our feet.  Granted, it seems appropriate from a song with such a skeptical view of the world.

More on Gang of Four: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“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

“What Is Life” – George Harrison
(Words/music: George Harrison, available on All Things Must Pass, Apple/EMI 1970)

Sure, George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass was a tremendous success, but I’m always fascinated by the amount of attention paid to Harrison’s collaborators and friends than to his own skills as a songwriter.  Far too often, George Harrison’s name comes in tandem with his former band mates or Eric Clapton or even the performers he culled for his massively successful Concert for Bangladesh, but very rarely (or, perhaps more accurately – not enough) will Harrison’s songs receive the respect they deserve.  His compositions for The Beatles include some of their best songs – “Something,” “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and “Here Comes the Sun” – but they tend to be afterthoughts behind the Lennon/McCartney compositions.  Perhaps it’s natural that Harrison’s songs fit his personality – in general, Lennon wrote the moody, charismatic songs, McCartney wrote the carefully arranged pop songs, while Harrison wrote the contemplative and spiritual songs (Ringo, who occasionally co-wrote, was far more than the punch line that some try to make him into – but more on him tomorrow).

While “My Sweet Lord” was massively successful as a single (and rightfully so, as it’s one of the most beautiful songs of its era), “What Is Life” reflects more of Harrison’s strengths as a songwriter.  The opening guitar riff rivals any in his catalog, but the song’s true strength lies in the different ways that Harrison plays with the riff.  Each time through this introductory riff, a new element joins his electric guitar; whether it’s an echo in the bass line, a chugging rhythm guitar, or a closely related horn line, the riff’s firmly entrenched in our brains before the verse even begins.  Like “My Sweet Lord,” “What Is Life” draws upon Harrison’s beliefs in Hinduism, specifically in the idea of personal submission to the Higher Power.  While the song fits this idea, it also works well as a simple devotion to love.  By the time the final verse rolls along (including Eric Clapton’s slinky slide guitar lines in the background of that final verse), I can’t help but sing along to the chorus.  It might not get as much radio play as a Lennon solo cut or a Wings track, but “What Is Life” is one I always turn up when I hear it.

PS - I learned today that Olivia Newton-John had a UK top 20 hit with this song.  Thanks, YouTube!

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