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“Kinky Afro” – Happy Mondays
(Words/music: Shaun Ryder, Paul Ryder, Mark Day, Paul Davis and Gary Whelan, available on Pills ‘n Thrills and Bellyaches, Factory 1990)

I’ve used this space to do a number of different things – including my not-so-shocking admission that I have weak dancing abilities.  This is directly related to my aversion to dance clubs, which directly influences my pedestrian knowledge of dance music.  For example, I know everything I know about the late ‘80s / early ‘90s Madchester scene from a handful of things I’ve read on the internet and 24 Hour Party People.  I don’t have all of the details down, but I do have a general timeline and some key names, so a flag went off in my head when Factory Records’ Tony Wilson came up in conjunction with the Happy Mondays.  It’s also worth noting that I only sought out some of the Happy Mondays’ music (aside from “24 Hour Party People,” which I enjoy a lot) after seeing the movie.  I didn’t know that the first three Mondays’ records were produced by (in order), John Cale from the Velvet Underground, Paul Oakenfold, and Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz of the Talking Heads and Tom Tom Club.  That’s enough historical context for me to start digging a little deeper.

What I found (to be fair, I’ve mainly gone through the singles / best of) sounds terrific.  “Kinky Afro” in particular captures this liveliness and electricity in the music.  It manages to blur the line between my concept of “dance” music and guitar rock, and I hear all of those things mixed in there.  There are elements of the Brit Pop I loved as a teenager as well as some of the post-punk that preceded the Mondays on Factory.  Similar to Primal Scream’s early ‘90s output, “Kinky Afro” surprised me with how fresh it sounds – I might have expected this to sound dated, but it reminds me of a lot of stuff from the past few years.  In particular, Shaun Ryder and James Murphy from LCD Soundsystem are joined in my mind.  Ryder doesn’t sing in the conventional sense (and I imagine that is a dealbreaker for a lot of people), yet he sings enough to let his personality shine through the track.  He’s uncompromising and kind of funny, especially during his most curmudgeonly points on “Kinky Afro.”  His brash and unforgiving persona here laid the groundwork for the snarky persona Murphy cultivated on the early LCD Soundsystem singles.  Still, I have to think that Ryder, the center of the storm, might be the reason why the Happy Mondays are nonentities in the United States and Jesus Jones topped the charts here (while stalling in the 30s in the UK).  On this one, the Brits had it right.

More on Happy Mondays: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: happy mondays | shaun ryder | 1990 | 1990s | track analysis | factory records | paul oakenfold | john cale | chris frantz | tina weymouth | talking heads | tom tom club | jesus jones | tony wilson |
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“Genius of Love (Stop Making Sense Version)” – Tom Tom Club
(Words/music: Adrian Belew, Chris Frantz, Steven Stanley, Tina Weymouth, available on Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense: Special New Edition, Warner Brothers 1999)

Like many in my generation, my introduction to “Genius of Love” came through Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy,” one of many songs to sample “Genius of Love” since its release in 1981.  It’s understandable why it’s been sampled so much – Weymouth and Frantz, the Talking Heads’ rhythm section and the main members of the Tom Tom Club, understood the blossoming hip hop culture of the early ‘80s, so it makes sense that they would be open to having their hit sampled.  In addition to its sample-friendly creators, “Genius of Love” has a relentless groove.  The version in the Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense (essentially the extended Heads lineup minus David Byrne, who left the stage to change into his exaggerated “big suit” for the finale) really accentuates the groove, playing to the strengths of the musicians on stage (some of which played with some of the bands referenced in the song).  I also love Chris Frantz’s turn as the MC, interjecting throughout the track.  I imagine some might prefer the original and find Frantz distracting, but I find him endearing, in particular the way he “directs” the band at the end of the track.

Few would argue with the instrumental performance of “Genius of Love,” but it features a clever lyric in addition to all of the funk/soul/hip hop name dropping.  In fact, it might be the finest song ever written about a music snob.  Tina Weymouth’s narrator describes her infatuation with her music loving boyfriend (who she dubs “the maven of funk mutation” in the verse omitted in the Stop Making Sense version).  Sure, it’s his dancing that sweeps her off her feet, but he’s also quite opinionated about the music he likes, filling her ear with his musical opinions, including the future of reggae (Sly & Robbie) and funk innovators (Bootsy Collins, etc).  The narrator loses herself in his presence, only to have him disappear to the dance floor later in the song.  I hear the final verse as slightly tongue-in-cheek, reacting to her boyfriend ditching her to go dance on his own.  She pointedly reminds him, the “genius,” that if he doesn’t need to think when his feet are going, then he won’t feel hurt when she leaves him.

More on Tom Tom Club: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

TAGGED UNDER: tom tom club | tina weymouth | chris frantz | 1981 | 1999 | track analysis | live performance | stop making sense | talking heads | mariah carey |
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“19-2000 (Soulchild Remix)” – Gorillaz
(Words/music: Gorillaz, available on G-Sides, Virgin Records 2002)

I’ve never been a huge fan of the remix, probably because I have at most a passing interest in dance music (which is directly related to the fact that I don’t dance).  Sure, there’s some cool remixes and mashups out there, but I save the scouring for other people – if it’s good enough, someone will send it to me or play it for me, and then it will be in my life.  That might sound like a kind of self-centered approach, but it’s true.  I’d rather hunt down new songs to listen to than listen to a favorite of mine with a pulsing drum beat and time warped vocals.

This isn’t to say that I don’t like remixes at all.  When a remix highlights a different element of a song that’s obscured or understated in the original mix, it forces us to look at the original in a different light.  Of course, the post-modernist in me likes the idea of taking something old and “making it new” by turning it into a new song.  In the case of “19-2000,” the remix renders the original track obsolete.  On their self-titled debut, 19-2000 is a slow, plodding song with absolutely inane lyrics (“I’m buying lead Nike shoes” - for real, Damon Albarn?).  The groove is kind of nice and the Talking Heads/Tom-Tom Club’s Tina Weymouth contributes some nice backing vocals in the pre-chorus section, but that’s about it.  The Soulchild remix, the version you probably know from commercials (and the radio perhaps), breathes life into the song.  Sure, there’s some new beeps and a piano vamp (and drums that don’t sound like they were recorded in a submarine), but the biggest difference is about a 20% shift in tempo.  By turning an unnecessarily slow track into a lively, fun bounce takes the emphasis away from the actual words (do yourself a favor and try not to think about them) to the infinitely more fun “na na na na na”s and uncontrollable head bopping.

To be fair, there’s a place for both the original “19-2000” and the remix.  I haven’t listened to the first Gorillaz album since it came out, but I don’t think the original is necessary for pacing or aesthetic cohesiveness.  So if I could go back in time and fix this (I’m not usually one for revising history, but I’ll make an exception this time just as I made an exception with my remix rule) I’d put the Soulchild mix on the album and swap the slower version onto the B-sides collection.  After hearing the “remix” the original almost sounds like a re-imagining of Soulchild’s mix – the slower tempo makes the groove deliberate and gives it a sort of dark doo-wop feel at times.  This slower mix better fits my definition of a “typical” remix – interesting to hear once, inessential, and in the way of the version I’d rather hear.

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

TAGGED UNDER: Gorillaz | 2002 | 2000s | remix | track comparison | damon albarn | tina weymouth |
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