Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged 'Epic Records'

February 7, 2010

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Dream Police” – Cheap Trick
(Words/music: Rick Nielson, available on Dream Police, Epic 1979)

When asked about his music being used in a commercial, Iggy Pop (or I think it was Iggy Pop, please correct me if I’m wrong) said (and again, I’m paraphrasing – I can’t find the exact quote) that he saw no issue with licensing his songs. Specifically, Pop said that his songs weren’t written with the intent to sell products, intimating that it’s not selling out if they come to you after an indiscriminate amount of time.

I share this along with the following statement of facts: I don’t write songs, let alone songs anyone cares about. What people do with their songs is their business, and if it puts food on the table or makes a loved one’s life a little better, then even better. So when Cheap Trick decided to rerecord “Dream Police” for an Audi commercial and rechristen it as “Green Police” (to tout the car’s environmental credentials), it’s ultimately Rick Nielson’s prerogative to provide for himself and his family. Hell, given the same opportunity, I’m not sure I’d do it differently.

That being said – ugh.

Cheap Trick, one of the finest and (generally) underappreciated power pop bands of their era, deserved the crowd who heard their music tonight. Their songs are ebullient and wry and stick in your head for days. “Dream Police” may not be on the same level as “Surrender,” but its slick production and eerily-tinged synths find the sweet spot between the song’s bubbly melody and the lyrics’ sci-fi paranoia. Yes, it’s a ridiculous concept, but it’s the right kind of ridiculous that’s tempered with the proper goofy demeanor that makes it charmingly ridiculous. Perhaps “Green Police” is the equivalent government related fear (judging by the number of folks on Twitter labeling it a “liberal dream,” perhaps it’s even more polarizing) thirty years later, but tonight it came off as hokey.

Again, I’m not against anyone collecting a paycheck. It’s just a shame that it had to come in such a patronizing way. Maybe Rick Nielson is laughing at people like me (and maybe subconsciously I’m resentful because I’ll never afford an Audi), but I can’t help but feel like “Green Police” is counter-productive. Not only will the melody to one of my favorite songs cause me to change the channel, but after tonight I’m not sure how long it will be before I’ll be able to listen to “Dream Police” and enjoy it again.

More on Cheap Trick: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: cheap trick | 1979 | 1970s | epic records | audi commercial | super bowl | wtf |

October 23, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Always on My Mind” – Phantom Planet
(Words/music: Alex Greenwald, available on The Guest, Epic 2002)

Like many people, I first fell for Phantom Planet because Max Fisher from Rushmore played drums for them. Thus, the one time I saw Phantom Planet years ago the goal was to meet actor Jason Schwartzman (Phantom Planet’s former drummer) and try not to geek out by asking any questions about Bill Murray. Between a cult film star playing drums and a song used as the theme song to one of the more iconic teen shows of the decade, Phantom Planet faced an uphill battle that a little power-pop band wasn’t equipped to handle. It’s a shame, as they played power pop with the best of them, and put on a hell of a show too – including an unexpected cover of Radiohead’s “Airbag” and Weezer’s “El Scorcho.”

My favorite Phantom Planet performance is their cover of Jackson Browne’s “Somebody’s Baby,” so that might explain why I think of “Always on My Mind” as its kid nephew. Like Browne’s perfect pop composition, “Always on My Mind” piles melody upon melody. Alex Greenwald’s cheery vocals join the keyboard, slide guitar, and a perfectly placed mandolin (right?) in the solo section. Most importantly, “Always on My Mind” carries itself with the same effortless charm that makes Browne’s song so ebullient. Even if the transitions aren’t completely seamless, the verses and choruses roll right into each other, creating one big melodic chain for three and a half minutes. If it’s not as good as the masters of power pop, it’s clearly aiming in the right direction. While Phantom Planet might be on an “indefinite hiatus,” I wouldn’t be surprised to see a few more gems of this caliber if they find their way back together.

More on Phantom Planet: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

August 21, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“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

August 10, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“People of the Sun” – Rage Against the Machine
(Words: Zack de la Rocha, music: Rage Against the Machine, available on Evil Empire, Epic 1996)

Rage Against the Machine’s music will always find a place with those who connect with the primal energy in their sound and the anger in Zack de la Rocha’s voice. Some might argue that these people miss the point, but that’s alright. Yes, de la Rocha’s lyrics are more than just angry rants against those who piss him off, but that’s not the reason that most of his fans came to him. If Rage’s draw was extremely far-left politics (much further left than this liberal at least), their audience might be a fraction of what they had. Instead, their aggressive sound gave de la Rocha the audience to share his message and educate the masses about his interests. It seems like he (and his bandmates) understand that they need the soapbox before they can start speaking. Even if much of their crowd cared more for the “rage” rather than knowing who/what the “machine” was, many more people heard the band’s message than the people passing out the Communist newsletter on the corner of city streets.

Regardless, Tom Morello always interested me the most; specifically, I marveled at the wide range of sounds he coaxed out of his guitar, making it howl and wail in an entirely unique way. “People of the Sun” seems like one of Morello’s tamer moments, but only because he locks into a groove early on. The rhythm section lays down a solid beat and Morello makes his six strings sing like some sort of rare beast. His tone articulated the same seething anger de la Rocha channeled in his lyrics, placing the Zapatista rebels in a variety of historical contexts (Wikipedia will provide a better history lesson than I can in this space). Not to slight the rhythm section at all (who else could lay it down like that?), but de la Rocha’s verbal assault and Morello’s innovation set Rage Against the Machine apart from their contemporaries. While bands that honed in on the angry part of their rap-rock hybrid ended up like Limp Bizkit, Rage Against the Machine produced numerous tracks like “People of the Sun” that could satiate the gear heads, fist pumpers, and revolutionaries at the same time. No wonder so many people still love them.

More on Rage Against the Machine: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

August 1, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“This Fffire” – Franz Ferdinand
(Words/music: Alex Kapranos and Nick McCarthy, available on Franz Ferdinand (Bonus Disc), Epic 2004)

Earlier today while in the car, I heard one of the recent Franz Ferdinand singles and for a split second thought it was a Doors song. Admittedly, I was channel surfing and didn’t know what station I had on (and was a little tired too), but it was the first time I noticed a similarity between Alex Kapranos and Jim Morrison’s voices. Leaving all sonic similarities aside for a moment, it’s a perfect comparision for me because I’ve found both bands to be “sometimes” bands. I find that many times I skip right past both in my library yet sometimes, and usually never by personal request, it hits the spot perfectly. I’ve never been able to associate either band with a particular mood, yet there are times when I welcome a Franz Ferdinand track on my iPod (or “L.A. Woman” on the radio, but that’s another story).

“This Fffire” is usually the culprit – it’s not too different than the properly spelled track from Franz Ferdinand’s debut album, but with its slightly glossier mix, it captures the things I liked about the band when I first heard them. I’m a sucker for a song that gradually builds to a climax, and while Kapranos and company aren’t tension-and-release innovators, I like how the verses feel subdued and quickly explode into the chorus. The jagged guitar riff and opening hi-hats were everywhere five years ago (and perhaps the reason I’ve cooled on the band more recently) but the band use them both well here, making one of the finest dance-punk songs never burdened with the label. Even if I don’t find myself taking the album off of my shelf anymore, this is one of the songs that reminds me why I cared about this band in the first place.

More on Franz Ferdinand: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

June 25, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” – Michael Jackson
(Words/music: Michael Jackson, available on Off the Wall, Epic 1979)

I desperately wanted to write about someone else tonight, but I’ve been surrounded by Michael Jackson’s death between Twitter, the pop radio stations playing him non-stop, and even MTV briefly playing videos tonight. It’s next to impossible for me to think about anything else tonight. I try my best to keep the focus on the songs and my personal reactions to the songs, but tonight it’s hard not to think about Jackson’s place in popular culture. Maura at Idolator says that it’s “very tempting to say that Jackson was something of a mirror of the past 40-ish years of popular culture, from his family’s band’s beloved singles in the ’60s and ’70s to his boundary-breaking solo career that followed to the celebrity-spectre existence,” but I’m not sure that does Jackson justice entirely. Jackson helped to push popular culture by expanding the boundaries of popular music and the reach of a pop star. He might have made a dozen more singles that sounded like “I Want You Back” and still remained popular, but he never seemed content to rest on his laurels. Instead, Jackson kept thinking bigger. Soon, his singles nearly burst at the seams with different sounds. He almost single-handedly turned the music video into an artistic statement by employing film directors and calling in famous friends for cameos. And even as recent as a few years ago, Jackson still outshined an entirely slew of contemporary pop stars. “Billie Jean,” his finest single, was also, in the words of Freaky Trigger’s Tom Ewing, “a disquieting, troubled record.” Sure, these quirks gave way to a man with serious personal and legal issues later in life, but Jackson’s shortcomings shouldn’t diminish his role in pushing popular culture to new heights.

“Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough” was essentially the adolescence of Jackson’s musical career – the period between his beginnings as a child start and his ascendaency atop the musical world in the early 1980s. During this time, Jackson stepped out on his own, left behind the vintage Motown sound that made him famous, and made a dance record. Maybe it’s the clarity hindsight affords, but all of the elements that would catapult Jackson into becoming the world’s most recognizable entertainer are in this song – a terrific and charming vocal performance, an overriding sense of joy, and a musical arrangement that took a few risks. It’s not as edgy as some of his later singles, but it marked a steep departure from his Jackson 5 days. It’s also immensely satisfying to listen to now, and if the song comes up on shuffle and gets past that opening “woo,” I’ve committed myself to listening to the whole thing. I may not be a Jackson aficionado, but I’m overcome with joy any time I hear this song.

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

TAGGED UNDER: michael jackson | 1979 | 1970s | track analysis | r.i.p. | epic records | king of pop |

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