Some Songs Considered

“I Love Life” – Pulp
(Words/music: Nick Banks / Jarvis Cocker / Doyle / Steve Mackey / Mark Webber, available on We Love Life, PolyGram 2001)

Hi.

It’s been a while, and life got cluttered up with the kind of things that clutter one’s life, so blogging fell off considerably.  I convinced myself that it was OK by reminding myself that I proved that I could write everyday, and that over time it became more important that what I wrote was good rather than just writing for the sake of writing.  And it was OK – I didn’t feel guilty about it, and most of the time felt grateful that having one less thing to do somehow made it a lot easier to get to bed at an hour where I didn’t feel it the next morning. 

Then today I had a strange revelation.  I was OK with not writing because I forgot why I started in the first place.  Three things led me here.

The first is the return of Conan O’Brien’s show to television tonight.  To make an extremely long story short, I ended up identifying with his experience this year all the way down to ending the year in a better place than where it began.  More importantly, I admired the way Conan handled it in a classy and composed way.  Sure, it’s easy to take the high road when it comes with millions in a contract buyout and another huge contract after it, but his triumph comes from doing what he loves and creating opportunities for himself, whether through his tour or the web. 

The second came in Google Reader today.  Pitchfork Reviews Reviews today shared that he’s working on a screenplay about his childhood and apologized in advanced for extended absences.  Something he said struck a nerve with me.  “I write this blog because it is something I like to do,” he says near the end of his post, and after reading that I stared back at the screen for a few minutes lost in thought.  I felt like that too. 

(Speaking of PRR, indulge me for a moment as I address him directly: I enjoy reading your blog, David, and find a lot of moments in your posts where I nod along in vigorous agreement.  Best of luck on your screenplay.)

The final one came when I read about Pulp reforming to play shows next summer.  I caught myself reacting with joy and a little anxiousness hoping that Pulp would make it over to the States next summer and started thinking about it.  I’ve been lucky to see a lot of terrific bands this year – some old favorites I’ve seen more than a dozen times, and other long time favorites that I hadn’t seen before.  Each time, there’s a similar moment of joy in getting the confirmation e-mail for the show, or in removing the shrink-wrap off the new record, or in that breathless moment when the house lights dim and the band walks out on stage.  These are the same tiny joys that I try to think about every time I sit down to write.  On my best days, I got to return to these moments, and in the rarest instances, I created new ones for myself.

These tiny joys are the things that led me to put on Pulp rather than do work that needs to be done tomorrow.  The same joys I find in Jarvis Cocker’s voice and his imagery.  The same joy in the way that the music in “I Love Life” restrains itself until it can’t help but explode into distorted chaos.  The same way that Cocker’s lyrics read sincere and sarcastic, often in the same line, and the way I marvel at his ability to paint complex pictures in his words (in this case, by making a song full of affirmation still sound dark). 

Today though, I’m most grateful for the joy I find in putting together all these thoughts in my head.  I’ve always thought a lot about music – I did it long before I started writing this blog, and I’ll do it long after I’ve stopped writing this blog.  Today, however, it was important to me to remember why this made me happy in the first place, enough to start writing a post without really knowing where to begin (and having it end up far longer than expected, and certainly enough to hit publish before forever dooming it to my drafts folder. 

And it worked.  Thanks for indulging me.

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

“Mis-Shapes” – Pulp
(Words/music: Nick Banks/Jarvis Cocker/Candida Doyle/Steve Mackey/Pulp/Russell Senior/Mark Webber, available on Different Class, Island 1995)

Eddie Izzard, while on a riff about the biblical notion that “the meek shall inherit the earth,” quips that if the meek “should be having meetings all over the world” in order to plan their acquisition.  If nothing else, Jarvis Cocker’s persona in “Mis-Shapes” isn’t standing around waiting for control to fall into his lap.  Instead, “Mis-Shapes” lays out the agenda for the thoughtful misfits.  He calls together his bookish brethren to rise up and take control on their terms.  “We won’t use guns / we won’t use bombs / we’ll use the one thing that we’ve got more of / that’s our mind.”  Where others see meek men and women, he sees a dormant revolution.

Of course, this sort of underdog fantasy rarely sounds either as confident or grand as “Mis-Shapes.”  From the opening notes, Cocker lets his words casually fall asunder, delivering lines with the right mix of spoken swagger and melody.  Behind him, the band builds from a couple guitar notes to a moderate stomp to a distorted gospel revival.  By the time he hits the chorus, Cocker sounds like a preacher singing his sermon to his tambourine-tapping congregation.  However, Pulp’s popularity would eventually swell to a point where Cocker wasn’t just preaching to the misfit choir (at least in the UK, where the entire crowd at the Glastonbury festival seemingly knew the words to “Common People”).  His effortless cool and cunning turns of phrase made him a compelling spokesman for the “meek,” and ultimately it was this charm (and a spot-on flair for the dramatic) that made Different Class such a compelling listen, whether you’re misshapen or conventionally pegged.

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

“Common People (f/ Joe Jackson)” – William Shatner
(Words/music: Nick Banks, Jarvis Cocker, Candida Doyle, Steve Mackey, Russell Senior, available on Has Been, Shout! Factory 2004)

Generally, I’m not a fan of gimmick cover songs; perhaps naively, I want bands to cover songs for a reason other than being ironic.  Maybe I went overboard in high school on mall punk covers of ‘80s songs, but I generally approach cover songs with a skeptic eye.  This made me nervous when I heard that William Shatner and Ben Folds were tackling Pulp’s “Common People.”  Different Class got a lot of spins in college (and I still listen to the first side of the album a fair amount), and even though I came around to “Common People” a half a decade after it was a hit, I fell for it entirely.  I loved Jarvis Cocker’s vocal delivery as he toed the line between melody and spoken word.  I loved how his narrator sets the scene, viewing this woman with a mix of scorn, awe, and a tiny bit of attraction.  I also loved the dramatic build in the song – both in the music and in Cocker’s lyrics.  Not only could he craft an interesting story, he knew how to tell it.

When I finally succumbed to my curiosity and listened to Shatner’s version, I felt relieved that it was ridiculous for all the right reasons.  Shatner and Folds (the executive producer of Shatner’s Has Been album) take the song and tug at the most absurd strands.  They push the tempo and let Shatner slide into his familiar vocal delivery.  Oddly enough, his syncopated over-enunciation brings out the smarminess in the lyrics; Shatner’s narrator just seems less tactful than Cocker’s reserved smugness.  Just as Pulp’s version gets bigger and bigger as the track progresses, Folds keeps adding onto the track, first with Joe Jackson’s energetic chorus and later with a chorus of “common people” to sing the hook.  By the time Shatner and Jackson “sing together” with Shatner over-performing and Jackson rushing through the verse, it’s impossible to resist the song.  By making it so overblown, Shatner simultaneously plays to his strengths (his eccentricities and his deadpan delivery) and reveals the original as an absurdly wonderful pop song.  Ultimately, however, the song works because it’s an excellent composition both melodically and lyrically; all Shatner, Folds, and Jackson do is turn it inside-out to reveal the giddy energy propelling it forward.

More on William Shatner: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

“Don’t Let Him Waste Your Time” – Jarvis Cocker
(Words/music: Jarvis Cocker, available on Jarvis, Rough Trade 2006)

One thing that made Pulp such a compelling band is Jarvis Cocker’s engaging ability to tell a story.  His songs always put great care into details, yet Cocker puts much of the emphasis onto the thoughts and motives of his characters.  He gets inside his characters’ heads in these songs, privileging the inner workings over exterior details.  One way he accomplishes this is by putting himself into the song.  By using the first and second person, he shares not only his narrator’s inner monologue but also this character’s read on other people.  This is why “you” and “we” fill these songs, letting Cocker’s audience experience everything (including his other characters) through his narrator’s eyes.  When this works best, these Pulp songs toe the line between filling in just enough details to get to know the characters while only hinting at the deeper stories underneath the song.

“Don’t Let Him Waste Your Time,” the first single from his first solo album, Cocker still runs his stories through his first person narrator.  However, unlike many of his songs with Pulp, his narrator stays out of the events in the song.  He doesn’t use “I” or “we” at all, yet we still feel the narrator’s presence in the song.  Rather than sharing in the song’s plot sequence, Cocker offers advice to an unnamed female acquaintance, insisting that she keeps her guard up against the slick “love ‘em and leave ‘em” guys she runs into.  Even if he’s removed himself from the song’s plot, Cocker’s narrator remains essential, as it’s his read on the guy (vacuous and smooth) and the girl (vulnerable yet deserving of more) that makes the song work.  If Cocker merely described the events in the song, it wouldn’t have the same traction.  If he wrote the song from the girl’s perspective, it would sound like a third rate Aretha Franklin rip off – something that an American Idol castoff might throw out hoping for some En Vogue karma to wear off.  Instead, the song benefits from Cocker’s perspective, hinging around the title’s advice and the supporting reasons why men like this will only waste his friend’s time.

More on Jarvis Cocker: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm