Some Songs Considered

“Motorcycle Emptiness” – Manic Street Preachers
(Words: Nicky Wire and Richey James Edwards /music: James Dean Bradfield and Sean Moore, available on Generation Terrorists, Columbia 1992)

Last week, as the Arcade Fire’s new album The Suburbs was the best selling record in both the US and UK, many well-thought discussions sprung up on Tumblr centering around the band’s lyrics (ones I won’t do the disservice of trying to paraphrase now – ask me and I’ll dig up some links as starting points).  Personally, Arcade Fire’s lyrics fell far down the list of things that drew me into the band; after all, their most famous (and arguably best) song “Wake Up” opens “Something filled up my heart with nothing / someone told me not to cry” – the kind of thing I’d immediately send back to one of my high school writing students.  This discussion inspired a different tangent for me: I started thinking about songs that I loved yet barely thought about the words.  “Motorcycle Emptiness” immediately came to mind. 

I imagine my relationship with this song is unique.  After all, the Manics pride themselves on their politically charged lyrics, and I admire the words in almost all my other favorites in their catalog.  Still, in the years since I rescued Generation Terrorists from a used bin on the East side of Providence, Rhode Island, I could only transcribe a handful of fragments from the song with any confidence.  For whatever reason (but not lack of listens, trust me), these words never stuck with me. Even without parsing every single word, I still appreciate the grandeur of the song.  Whether it’s the oversized guitar riff, James Dean Bradfield’s lifting voice, or the space in between the programmed drum notes (I didn’t realized the drums were programmed until earlier tonight), the track reaches for great heights.  “Reaching” is the optimal word, as I’ve always sensed the song as being about a longing for more – something to fill the titular “emptiness.”  The shards of words that stuck to me, in particular the “living life like a comatose / ego loaded and swallowed” line before the final chorus, only spurred on my interpretation.  I imagine that many have a close attachment to these lyrics, and this isn’t an attempt to discredit that (as those people probably have more substantial things to say about the song I’d imagine).  Instead, this is just my personal and peculiar relationship with a song – one I feel that I don’t quite grasp yet still comprehend. 

More on Manic Street Preachers: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Masters of War” – Bob Dylan
(Words/music: Bob Dylan, available on The Freewheeling Bob Dylan, Columbia 1963) 

These days, I rarely think of Bob Dylan’s voice when I listen to his music.  It’s part of the entire package; it generally doesn’t add or detract to my appreciation of his songs.  “Masters of War” may be the exception, as Dylan’s voice suits the song’s tone perfectly.  His gravelly vocals help keep him reserved enough for the song.  Where a more boisterous vocalist might overwhelm the words with a powerful performance, Dylan’s comfortable range underplays the song’s intensity, making the most striking moments more powerful.  He lets his contempt come through the imagery in his words rather than the power of his voice. 

Additionally, Dylan gives the song a natural rolling motion, giving the melody peaks and valleys as the verses roll on.  As the notes climb higher, his voice naturally accents those specific lyrics.  Appropriately, Dylan stacks some of the more resonant words on these higher notes – “casket” right around the four-minute mark stands out in particular as one where Dylan’s voice naturally accentuates a lyric.  The cycle up and down the melody fits in with the repetitive strumming pattern, giving the song a circular feeling as Dylan slowly unravels the “masters” by calling them out into the open.

More on Bob Dylan: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“No Excuses (Live)” – Alice in Chains
(Words/music: Jerry Cantrell, available on MTV Unplugged, Columbia 1996)

I’m fascinated by bands that play against type – specifically, when a band makes the deliberate choice to step outside their bread and butter and try something different.  Saying that Alice in Chains completely played against type by appearing on MTV Unplugged, but it meant revealing their strengths explicitly.  Where many of their songs, especially on their early albums, hid behind murky grunge-era production aesthetics, the arrangements on Unplugged pushed Jerry Cantrell’s songwriting into the spotlight.  Sure, Nirvana did it first, but it’s hard to imagine some of Alice in Chains’ other peers (Soundgarden comes to mind immediately) making an Unplugged appearance work this well.  In particular, Cantrell’s nimbler, quicker songs fit this arrangement as well, giving room for all of the instruments to mingle rather than mire together in feedback.

“No Excuses,” perhaps the brightest Alice in Chains song both in melody and demeanor, benefits the most from this reinvention.  Even in the murkiest songs, Cantrell’s harmonizing vocals provided a foil to Layne Staley’s more eccentric lead vocals.  On “No Excuses,” Staley puts aside his snarl and sings along with Cantrell, letting Sean Kinney’s drums fills nimbly dance around their long phrases.  It’s Kinney’s drums and the overtly melodic solo Cantrell plays during the song’s bridge that stand out in the song; if dark, brooding songs were Alice and Chains’ “type,” this plays against type.  Still, it’s unmistakably an Alice in Chains song (particularly for Staley’s distinctive vocals and Cantrell’s trademark harmonies), even if it’s the sun to “Man in the Box’s” lurking shadows.

More on Alice in Chains: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Misery (Live)” – Soul Asylum
(Words/music: Dave Pirner, available on After the Flood: Live from the Grand Forks Prom, June ‘98, Columbia 2004)

I’ve walked through a lot of bookstores in my lifetime, and the sheer number of self-help books amazes me every time.  It stands to reason that a lot of shelf space equals a lot of sales, and as baffling as that seems at first, a new wave in new age thought crests every few months.  For example, the current pop-psychology pushes positive thinking – that living one’s life with an optimistic outlook will yield positive returns.  I’m not sure if I buy that, but I see merit in the opposite side of the spectrum; specifically, a lot of people bring negativity on themselves.  This doesn’t account for factors beyond one’s control; sometimes we’re stuck in awful situations with nothing else to do but wait it out or make the best out of it.  However, I also see a lot of people perpetually miserable because they (either actively or subconsciously) seek out things that make them unhappy.

Dave Pirner takes this idea, turns it into a pun, and runs with it.  “Frustrated incorporated,” the catchiest part in the song, turns the cliché “misery loves company” into this idea that people manufacture their own negativity.  It’s a clever way of approaching this idea while maintaining a thread of optimism (“we’ll create the cure – we made the disease”).  This is the essential notion in the song, especially on the After the Flood live album.  Soul Asylum volunteered to perform at the prom for a town in North Dakota devastated by flooding.  Their set, documented in this 2004 release, starts with a cover of “I Can See Clearly Now” and then into “Misery.”  Aside from being one of their catchiest songs, its early placement in the setlist seems designed for a specific purpose – the towns experienced enough misery already and it needs to put its manufacturing resources toward the cure.

More on Soul Asylum: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Hold Yr Terror Close” – The Go! Team
(Words/music: The Go! Team, available on Thunder, Lightning, Strike (US Edition), Columbia 2005)

Reading reviews about Thunder, Lightning, Strike, especially a few years later now that the hype has subsided (and the sophomore slump has set in), the lavish praise and name checking seems a bit over the top.  Sure, the album was a breath of fresh air – it’s collection of funk-meets-rap-meets-guitarrock-meets-cheerleading sounded like nothing else, and it’s a very fun album to listen to.  However, just as the sounds on the record hop from one idea to the next with great speed, the attention span for the record came and went just as quick.

Still, the song I find most interesting is “Hold Yr Terror Close,” one of the songs added on to the US version of the album (and a b-side in their native UK).  While the rest of the album surrounds itself with samples of old 60s soul, distorted guitar, and frontwoman Ninja’s frenetic raps, this song is only honky tonk piano and vocals.  If Thunder, Lightning, Strike sounds like a high school talent show – it’s loud, full of energy, all over the place, and rapidly vacillating between being a complete triumph and a complete trainwreck – “Hold Yr Terror Close” is the kid who gets up and brings the house down with an original composition.  The circular piano line and near constant hum of the vocals sound sweet and somewhat hypnotic, especially compared to the loud, peppy songs that accompany it on the album.  It’s a pleasant break from the album’s relentless energy.  Also, at 2:18, it’s the perfect length for an interlude, giving us a quiet but sweet song before the album moves into its final sprint to the finish line.

More on The Go! Team: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm