Some Songs Considered

“Precious” – The Jam
(Words/music: Paul Weller, available on The Gift, Polydor 1982) 

By the end of the Jam’s run as a band, Paul Weller expanded his songwriting chops past the mod-punk of their first few albums.  “Precious” is neither the best nor the most progressive of the Jam’s late period singles, but it’s perhaps the most immediately startling.  The wah-wah drenched guitar dominates the early part of the track, and its slight delay seems strange from a band that usually draws on crispness and rhythmic intensity.  Instead, “Precious” creates a funky haze using repetition to an almost trance-like effect.  If other singles felt like they were moving quickly, this one feels like it’s settling in to a comfortable groove.

That being said, “Precious” isn’t an amorphous fog of guitar effects.  Instead, it builds on top of the funky guitar with layers of defined rhythm.  The fast hi-hats and snare on the fourth beat foil the seemingly free-floating guitar line and anchor it to the song’s pulse.  However, the most rhythmically sound elements come from unlikely sources – the horn section and the vocals.  The horns hit with the clipped precision of a big band by adding rhythmically interesting figures.  Rather than provide harmony or melody, the horn section changes up the pace with a clearly defined line on top of the hazier guitars.  Weller takes a cue from these horns by marrying his vocals to the beat as well.  He gives his lyrics the same sort of clipped turns in phrasing that the horn players give their notes, and while the melody is nothing to dismiss, my ears key in on how Weller sings it rather than what notes he sings. 

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“That’s Entertainment” – The Jam
(Words/music: Paul Weller, available on Sound Affects, Polydor 1980)

Tonight marks the end of Conan O’Brien’s brief run as host of The Tonight Show after an extremely public bout with his network.  I won’t add onto the pile of discussion of the way O’Brien left the network and instead will focus on wishing him a fond (and hopefully temporary) farewell.  Of course, since music was one of the important parts of his show – from interacting with the characters in the Max Weinberg Seven to the terrific bands his staff booked for him – I thought I’d send Conan off with a song.

“That’s Entertainment” describes some of the sights and sounds of working class Britain.  Paul Weller runs through the bleak sights, shrill sounds, and general humdrum details of everyday life.  As a narrator, Weller stays generally detached, only tipping us to the unhappiness of the people living here in the “wishing you were far away” line (which, to be fair, could be any place at any time).  It’s this general discontent that leads me to think that the “that’s entertainment” line isn’t necessarily meant as sarcastic.  Rather, if it’s to suggest that working class life isn’t entertaining, it underscores the need for entertainment in our lives.

This is where O’Brien comes in.  His show provided small doses of entertainment, be it bizarre comedy bits, an engaging interview, or a favorite band playing a new song.  O’Brien’s show offered levity after an exhausting day and did so in a consistently clever and genuinely warm way.  He combined the razor-sharp wit and flair for absurdity that many try to cultivate with an endearing and effortless charm that most of us dream of possessing.  If Weller’s song focused on the need for tiny bits of escapism in our day-to-day lives, Conan O’Brien was one of my favorites.  For the sake of entertainment, I hope he returns to television soon.

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“Layla” – Derek and the Dominos
(Words/music: Eric Clapton and Jim Gordon, available on Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs, Polydor 1970)

I’m not going to question Eric Clapton’s guitar chops; I can only dream of one day being half as good at something as Eric Clapton is at playing the guitar. He’s a pretty good vocalist, and a decent songwriter too. That being said, “Layla” doesn’t become an immortal song without Jim Gordon’s piano coda. The opening song runs on a killer riff and his desperate declaration of love for George Harrison’s wife. It would be a solid song on its own – Clapton delivers an impassioned vocal performance (clearly drawing on his real-life inspiration) over Duane Alman’s lead riff, but it’s the piano coda that cement’s the song’s legacy. Gordon’s section of the song puts on the breaks, shifting the tone away from desperation to melancholy. Producer Tom Dowd spliced together the two movements, but both parts seemingly needed each other. Clapton’s desperation benefits from the slowed tempo, and Gordon’s piano riff feels more heartfelt after Clapton’s overt declaration of (what seemed like) unrequited love. On their own, each part could do well (and Gordon’s piano solo worked exceptionally well as a montage piece in Goodfellas), but together each part takes what it needs from the other.

“Take Your Mama” – Scissor Sisters
(Words/music: Scott Hoffman and Jason Sellards, available on Scissor Sisters, Polydor 2004)

If we made a list of influential musicians from the 1970s, chances are Elton John appears relatively late in the list. Even if we specified it down to “glam” or “pop” influences, chances are he’s still in the second wave of answers. Simply put, Elton John isn’t particularly cool, and anyone who argues otherwise is foolish. Popularity aside, John knew his way around a song, whether during his earlier, grittier days or his more outlandishly dressed days. So it’s not surprising that the Scissor Sisters would look toward him as one of their songwriting muses – it’s only surprising because he’s not a particularly stylish musical influence.

While the Scissor Sisters’ share similarly campy indulgences as John, the comparisons lie deeper. “Take Your Mama” in particular draws heavier on John’s bouncy piano-pop than the dance influences in other places on the album. Yes, it has piano like an Elton John song, but the vocals draw the most telling comparison. Vocalist Jake Shears lets his voice bend as it travels up and down his register, occasionally darting upward briefly only to return to where it started. Even the quality of his voice – broad and sturdy down in the lower range and thinner near the top – makes Shears sound even more like John vocally. When Shears slips into his falsetto, it takes a page right out of “Bennie and the Jets,” a song where John uses all of the different parts of his vocal range for different aesthetic results. When Shears and John use their falsetto, it’s a way of shifting the song into the next gear at the end of a chorus. Like John, who would later contribute piano to the group’s second album, Shears dynamic vocals give the song versatility and make it feel like it’s gradually shifting into something different each phrase. It’s this malleability that makes John the perfect musical mentor for the Scissor Sisters, even if he’s not the most obvious choice for musical worship.

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“My Ever Changing Moods” – The Style Council
(Words/music: Paul Weller, available on Café Bleu, Polydor 1984)

Many are quick to cite Pete Townshend’s undeniable influence on Paul Weller, an influence that goes beyond both of their bands’ mod roots and a terrific 2000 duet on “So Sad About Us.” Still, reading some old reviews of Jam albums might paint the band as Who disciples, Weller’s influences as a songwriter go beyond Townshend.  Equally as important, especially towards the end of the band’s tenure, was the influence of soul and R&B on Weller’s compositions.  These influences manifest themselves both in Weller’s own compositions (and expanding sonic pallet on the last few albums) and the variety of cover songs in The Jam’s catalog – “In the Midnight Hour,” “Move on Up,” and “I Got You (I Feel Good” among others.  Once the band dissolved, Weller explored these influences deeper through The Style Council, his collaboration with keyboard player Mick Talbot.  

“My Ever Changing Moods” pays homage to some of Weller’s soulful forebears, probably Curtis Mayfield in particular (the percussion reminds me of the excellent instrumental breakdown in “Move on Up” and Weller’s voice at times tries to mimic Mayfield’s inflection).  The song’s biggest strength is the constant harmonies and the spotless arrangement – all of the different musical voices work together without overpowering each others.  Weller adds in horns when needed, moves the organ up in the mix when it complements the vocal harmonies, and lets the electric guitar solo briefly just to change things up.  While Weller was the creative center with The Jam, his work with the Style Council turned him into a band leader in the complete sense of the word – it could almost be The Paul Weller Orchestra if it was recorded in the 1950s rather than 1980s.  Still, it’s not a complete retro piece as Weller imbibes the song with the energy of his previous group – it’s not a punk-like romp like some of the early songs, but it’s not a slow ballad by any means.  Additionally, Weller’s command of language lets him (like Mayfield before him and many afterward) craft a song that sounds political without being preachy or partisan.  Weller’s calling for change in a subtle way by describing the uncertain times through an idealistic lens – he hopes for an era of accountability and goodness while still acknowledging the implausibility of his desires.  Still, you won’t even think about the lyrical themes for the first few listens because there are so many other engaging and enticing parts of the arrangement that will demand your attention the first couple of times through.

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