Some Songs Considered - Posts Tagged 'track comparison'

July 31, 2009

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“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

July 3, 2009

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“Hurricane Jane” – Black Kids
(Words/music: Black Kids, available on Partie Traumatic, Almost Gold / Columbia 2008)

In roughly just a year, Black Kids went from obscurity to oversaturation. This is remarkable on its own, but becomes even more absurd when noting that their debut album came at the end of this stretch. Pitchfork discovered their Wizard of Ahhhs EP on Myspace and turned this very young band into the most desired band at CMJ 2007. What followed made perfect sense in retrospect – a band with a wonderful four song demo EP wasn’t road tested and received lukewarm reactions from the same people who eagerly downloaded their EP. It was, as the Specials put it, “too much too young.” The band needed time to find their footing and catch up to where expectations demanded they should be. Unfortunately, Black Kids had to grow in the spotlight, and when they went through the things that most young bands experiences (short sets, clumsy performances), the backlash began. Still, they deserve a lot of respect for taking Pitchfork’s non-review in stride and (as of last August) becoming a fun, lively band in concert.

It probably didn’t help the band’s case that almost all of their best songs on their debut album came from this demo EP. However, the versions on Partie Traumatic reflect the growth the band experienced over their year in the limelight. With Suede’s Bernard Butler behind the board, “Hurricane Jane” becomes far more precise; the guitar line sounds more defined yet still retains similar reverb from the original. The most notable change occurs when the band slides from this main riff into the verse and from the verse into the chorus – it’s a superior mix where each of the instruments holds its own with the others. It’s not simply a higher recording budget, though; the band sounds more confident, switching from a low key groove in the verse into the looser and freer chorus. Yes, there’s a charm to the EP version of the song, but the album version of “Hurricane Jane” will fit in perfectly with the other feel-good pop songs on your summer mix. Above all, this is a band that’s having fun – and if we expected anything more than a fun, slightly campy record from this band, then we only have our lofty expectations to thank for our disappointment.

More on Black Kids: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

June 17, 2009

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“Ocean of Noise” – Calexico
(Words/music: Arcade Fire, available on Arcade Fire’s “Intervention” 7”, Merge Records 2007)

For all of the waves that the Arcade Fire’s Funeral made in the year after its release, I’ve seen Neon Bible in many ways as an equally impressive feat. Expectations were through the roof for their second album, and the band delivered. Where Funeral soared with its heart on its sleeve, Neon Bible took the same grandeur and turned it inward, finding a more complex and frightening range of emotions. “Ocean of Noise” embodies this shift, as Win Butler’s protagonist recognizes his inner struggles, acknowledges the lies he tells himself, and fears what he’s truly capable of at the end. He resolves to “work it out” himself because he knows that time alone won’t heal his wounds. If Funeral cataloged a series of tragedies happening around the band, Neon Bible addressed the toll these events took on the individual.

“Ocean of Noise” also marks a more subdued moment in the Arcade Fire’s songbook. “Intervention” might be the epic centerpiece of the album, but “Ocean of Noise” builds in a gracefully reserved manner. There’s still a build to a climax, but it’s gradual and understated with Butler sharing the spotlight with the strings and horns. While other Arcade Fire songs demand attention, “Ocean of Noise” earns it by building on its own terms. Calexico’s cover from the “Intervention” single drives home the song’s arrangement (members of Calexico played on the Arcade Fire’s version as well). Their version gives it a smoother feel and plays to the band’s strengths in their horn section. Calexico’s subdued version pays tribute to the original and underscores the band’s growth as songwriters. They’re not exactly going soft, but Calexico show how the Arcade Fire expanded their palette. Ironically, it took having someone else play one of their most personal and intimate songs for it to come across completely.

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

June 15, 2009

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“Venus Stopped the Train (Rough Mix)” – Jay Bennett and Edward Burch
(Words/music: Jay Bennett and Jeff Tweedy, original version available on The Palace at 4 A.M., Undertow Music 2002, rough mix courtesy of Captains Dead)

Jay Bennett’s untimely passing a few weeks ago led many of us back to some of the early Wilco records. Many remember Bennett soely as Tweedy’s antagonist in the I Am Trying to Break Your Heart documentary, but he helped write and arrange many of the songs on the first four Wilco albums (as well as the Mermaid Avenue collaborations with Billy Bragg). When Bennett and Wilco split, he took some of his songs with him. His first album after the split, a record with collaborator Edward Burch, featured three songs from this time period – Summerteeth’s “My Darling” and two from the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot sessions – a song called “Shaking Sugar” (alternately known as “Alone”) and “Venus Stopped the Train.” The Yankee Hotel Foxtrot Demos (available via Owl and Bear’s amazing Wilco Archive) for two reasons. It was really fascinating to see how some of these songs changed from the demo process to the final product, but I was even more excited to hear nearly an album’s worth of songs that didn’t make the record. Perhaps I’m biased as a Wilco fan, but some of these songs were terrific. While some appeared later on, either as free downloads, bonus tracks, or live performances, “Venus Stopped the Train” never emerged. My friend Mike counts this among one of his greatest musical disappointments – that he’ll never hear Wilco play this song, and I understand why.

Bennett and Burch’s recording on The Palace at 4 A.M. contains more layers (Bennett must have had Yankee Hotel Foxtrot still in his system) and features Bennett’s deeper voice. However, I recently came across the “rough mixes” to The Palace at 4 A.M., including a version of “Venus Stopped the Train” that essentially sounds like the Wilco demo with Bennett’s vocals replacing Tweedy’s. The demo recording (both Wilco’s and Bennett’s) creates a lonely, somber feeling. When arranged for piano and voice with minimum accompaniment, the broken communication between the narrator and his subject stands out. Even the storm sound at the beginning of the song makes it feel depressed. Thematically, “Venus Stopped the Train” fits in with Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’s collection of songs about the breakdown (and eventual rebuilding) of interpersonal communication. However, it’s too fragile musically to have withstood the sonic manipulations the rest of the album withstood. Bennett and Burch’s released version still does the song justice, but it loses the subtle melancholy beneath its denser arrangement. Instead, and somewhat reluctantly, “Venus Stopped the Train” belongs as a lost relic buried in the attic. It might not fit into one of Wilco’s setlists (what would Nels Cline do during this?), but it’s a treasured gem from the band’s past and one that Wilco fans should celebrate. Personally, it’s one that will make me fondly remember Bennett’s contributions to the band’s early days.

More on Jay Bennett and Edward Burch: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

April 30, 2009

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“Blinded by the Light” – Manfred Mann’s Earth Band
(Words/music: Bruce Springsteen, available on The Roaring Silence, Warner Brothers 1976)

During his VH-1 Storytellers’ performance, Bruce Springsteen introduced “Blinded by the Light” as his only number one song and noted the irony that it was someone else’s performance that made it a hit. While I (certainly of a pro-Springsteen bias, so take that for what you will) prefer the original from Springsteen’s debut record Greetings from Asbury Park, N.J., Manfred Mann’s version remains the more popular one. Springsteen semi-jokingly attributes the cover’s success to Mann’s skewering of the “deuce” coup to sound more like “douche.” It’s interesting, because I think one area where the cover improves on the original comes in Mann’s clearer vocal delivery. The young Boss was still trying hard to be Bob Dylan, and perhaps dipped a little too much into his rhyming dictionary. Mann’s version makes these lyrics, which are generally nonsensical to begin with, somewhat clearer, which is the only reason that makes me believe that his pronunciation of “deuce” was intentional.

With these dense lyrics, both songs rely on the music to carry the weight. Springsteen’s version feels incredibly loose, letting the beat swing and the saxophone dance around the stage; even though it’s not one of my favorite Springsteen lyrics, it’s clear that he was having fun leading his band. Mann’s cover reverses this, going for a machine-like gloss. Swirling synthesizers replace the strums and saxophones as Mann’s band shifts speeds, playing with a half-time feel in the verse and resuming the beat to move into the chorus. It’s these rhythmic touches that build and release tension over the song’s seven minutes, even playing with the listener’s expectations by dropping down to only a hi-hat and synthesizer (which I hope he paid royalties to Pete Townshend for, since it sounds right out of his arsenal) for the chorus when we might expect it to crescendo to a climax. Ultimately, it comes down to personal taste, and even if I prefer the original, there are elements of the cover that I enjoy as well. Most of all, I’m amused to see how one song lends itself to two diverse versions. I’d be interested to know what Manfred Mann heard in Springsteen’s original that led him to arrange the song the way he arranged it.

More on Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

April 24, 2009

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“Mint Car [Radio Mix]” – The Cure
(Words/music: Perry Bamonte, Jason Cooper, Simon Gallup, Roger O’Donnell, Robert Smith, available on Galore: Singles 1987 – 1997, Fiction/Elektra 1997)

A few months ago, my friend Dave sent me a frantic instant message late at night. He was making a mix and needed a second opinion. “‘Just Like Heaven’ or ‘Mint Car’” he asked, and I was forced to admit that I didn’t know “Mint Car” off the top of my head. I owned the song as part of the Galore singles collection that I listened to incessantly in high school, but since my CD collection went digital, I mainly listened to the earlier Cure singles as parts of other playlists. I know the first two thirds of Galore extremely well but had forgotten the end of it. As a result of Dave’s question, I rediscovered both “Mint Car” and “Strange Attraction” from the Wild Mood Swings album, so I think I benefited more from the conversation than he did!

Regardless, I immediately understood Dave’s quandary – “Mint Car” and “Just Like Heaven” are both on the shimmery pop side of the Cure’s catalog. Both songs feature Robert Smith as an unabashed romantic (as opposed to a sinister storyteller) and are within a second of each others’ running time. Still, “Mint Car” plays like the younger sibling, flaunting its melody more directly and bounding along at a slightly bubblier pace. If one strength in “Just Like Heaven” is its relatively laid back tempo, “Mint Car” comes busting out of the gate enthusiastically. The protagonist sounds like someone experiencing a new love and all of the wonderful sensations and giddy excitement, while “Just Like Heaven” comes off slightly more familiar yet equally enamored. Ultimately, “Mint Car” won out because it was less known; Dave’s friend (probably) knew “Just Like Heaven,” and “Mint Car” might help lead this person slightly deeper into the catalog. The decision made perfect sense to me.

“Mint Car” works for today for two reasons. First, in the Northeast US, today feels the way that spring should – bright and warm - and evokes the same kind of emotions as “Mint Car.” Additionally, Dave is celebrating his birthday this weekend and while I can’t join him, I’m dedicating this post to him in celebration. I met Dave in college and in addition to being my RA one year, Dave recruited me to write record reviews for the school newspaper. Dave was an excellent editor and a gifted media critic himself, and I was thrilled when he started up his NineDaves blog last year. Dave writes about a variety of topics near and dear to his heart – whether it’s keeping an eye on Broadway, putting his favorite TV shows through his crosshairs, or keeping tabs on happenings in Brooklyn, Dave writes with the kind of natural wit and charm that I envy. As a birthday present to Dave, give his blog a visit.

More on The Cure: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

April 23, 2009

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“Video Tapez (f/ Del tha Funky Homosapien)” – Amplive
(Words/music: Radiohead, remixed by Amplive, available on Rainydayz Remixes, Self Released, 2008)

If The Beatles is the band that crosses generation gaps, Radiohead is the band that crosses gaps within my generation. In high school, Radiohead was the one band that all of my friends, whether they were into metal, punk, jam bands, or Brit-pop, agreed on. They are a musician’s band, a geek’s band, and (often forgotten) a hell of a rock band, so I understand this strange crossover appeal. Of course Radiohead, like the Beatles, has its detractors (even if many do so just to be contrarians), but it amazed me in the late ‘90s to see so many people with different musical interests agree on such an odd band. It helps that Radiohead constantly push the envelope – with In Rainbows alone, Radiohead turned the system backwards by self releasing an album digitally and then negotiating with labels to issue the physical product, not to mention several successful public remix campaigns spurred by the band releasing “stems” of different isolated instrumental tracks calling for remixers of all skills to take part.

Looking back, Amplive’s Rainydayz Remixes collection seems inevitable – in addition to Radiohead’s history of innovation, Thom Yorke’s solo album The Eraser featured more distinct beats, lending a track to the “Us Placers” collaborations between Pharell, Kanye West, and Lupe Fiasco. Even The Beatles, the other critic-proof English rock band, received a remix treatment that made its DJ famous. The skeptic in me wants to think that Amplive took on this endeavor for similar ambitions, but that’s not the point. Rainydayz Remixes turned out just as I imagined – some of the tracks are forgettable and some are interesting. In particular, the remix of “Videotape,” here redubbed “Video Tapez,” might be the sole example of a remix that improved on the original. I hadn’t heard the In Rainbows songs in any of the live recordings before the album came out, but my friends who had seemed most disappointed with the mellowing out of “Videotape” when compared with its more dynamic live version. Amplive takes the slow piano line and gives it a quicker, stuttered feel; this works especially well on Thom Yorke’s vocals, turning his mournful vocal into a viable hook. I’m not saying this is what “Video Tape” should sound like (I like the In Rainbows version, specifically for that weird percussion at the very end), but it’s interesting to hear how someone who had an entirely different agenda for the album interpreted the song. Judging from his Youtube “thank you” disclaimer, Amplive seems thrilled that the band (potentially) heard his remixes, and I’d be curious how Rainydayz Remixes and the remix sites for “Nude” and “Reckoner” will influence the band going forward. It also makes me wish I did something with those “Reckoner” stems I downloaded.

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

April 20, 2009

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“My Sweet Lord (Live at the Concert for George)” - Billy Preston
(Words/music: George Harrison, available on The Concert for George, Warner Brothers 2003)

When I first delved into the story behind George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord,” I was puzzled by the idea that he originally gave the song to Billy Preston. I wasn’t surprised about giving it to Preston specifically, as Harrison and Preston collaborated frequently, but rather I was surprised that Harrison would give the song away at all. In a way, I always heard “My Sweet Lord” as a personal song – one detailing Harrison’s quest for finding enlightenment based on his studies of Hinduism. Maybe this seemed strange because I only knew Harrison’s version, complete with the “Hare Krishna” mantra from his backing singers. By comparison, Preston’s gospel call-and-response take on the song on his Encouraging Words album flipped the song around; while Harrison sounded like someone searching for a connection, Preston and his choir reveled in their unity. Maybe this is why, as someone who doesn’t practice religion yet still has spiritual moments, I’m drawn towards the yearning and searching rather than the “come and join with us” feel in Preston’s arrangement.

At the concert celebrating George Harrison’s life and music, an older Billy Preston sang “My Sweet Lord” with George’s band with the result somewhere between his version and Harrison’s recording. When the backing vocals chime in, they sing strong and vibrantly, yet Preston’s vocal performance seems more in line with Harrison’s version. Like the former Beatle, Preston sings the first verse on his own before the choir comes in, and even when the choir comes in, he remains the central figure rather than serving as the leader to set up the choir. After all, it’s this main vocal line – the one yearning for unity with the higher power – that’s central to the song, with the mantra (whether it’s the Judeo-Christian “hallelujah” or the Hindu prayer) playing the secondary role. Preston’s original version of the song flips these around, and even if I prefer it the other way, I imagine that speaks to a lot of people. Still, I identify more with Harrison’s version, reading it as the quest for enlightenment being the important part – it’s not about finding the one right answer, but rather finding your own best path to enlightenment, whether it’s through Christianity, Hinduism, or whatever else. Perhaps I’m projecting too much of my own beliefs onto the song, but it’s this strand of self-discovery and personal nirvana that’s made an incredibly beautiful song even more beautiful.

April 1, 2009

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“Let’s Get It On” – Jack Black
(Words/music: Marvin Gaye and Ed Townsend, available on High Fidelity OST, Hollywood Records 2000)

Jack Black is many things, but he is not Marvin Gaye, and a prerequisite for this cover working as well as it does is that Black understands this. That’s not to say Black turns this into a Tenacious D song, because that wouldn’t work as well. Like his character in the film, Black turns in a sincere version of the song that pays homage to the original without trying to one up it. He sings in a comfortable place in his vocal range, occasionally dipping into his falsetto but only to hit high notes. In fact, Black sings without any of the usual theatrics that fill his Tenacious D songs (or his performance in the movie – think of his unnatural swiveling during “Walking on Sunshine” when we first meet him), instead sounding relaxed and almost reserved. It’s a testament to Black both as a singer and an actor, knowing when and where to turn on his absurdist charm and where to refrain. Ultimately, Black’s personality yields to the song, one Gaye sang with his natural charisma and Black’s (relatively) subdued performance works as a silent hat tip to Gaye’s original performance; Appropriately, Black’s version becomes enjoyable because it doesn’t force us to compare it to the original and pick out the “superior” version. Instead, it becomes a loving tribute to a soul standard and, to those who hadn’t seen the HBO episodes, a public introduction to Jack Black as a singer, one that (at least in part) helped create the opportunity for his ridiculous career as a rock frontman.

More on Jack Black: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

March 29, 2009

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“Let Down” – Pedro the Lion
(Words/music: Radiohead, available on Tour EP ’04, Jade Tree (digital) 2006)

Radiohead’s OK Computer stands as a giant in my personal musical history. It was the first album that I loved that I didn’t love immediately. Most of my early favorites were “safe” purchases because I knew most of the songs before buying them. Thus, because I already loved four or five songs from the radio, I had confidence that I would love the rest of the album. I bought OK Computer after hearing “Karma Police” a few times on the radio and occasionally catching a glimpse of the strange “Paranoid Android” video on MTV. I probably bought it at the same time as other albums (maybe the Foo Fighters’ The Colour and the Shape) because I didn’t get much deeper into OK Computer than those two songs. This is a bad habit that I still maintain – I’ll get a new record, listen to it once or twice (or, on occasion, not at all) and then for whatever reason (distraction, being preoccupied with work, or buying the record while being obsessed with another album) I let the album slip through the cracks. For whatever reason, I picked OK Computer back up again and remember sitting through the whole album while playing Super Nintendo (probably F-Zero, but I’m not 100%). The record finally caught hold of me – not just the loud parts at the end of “Paranoid Android” and “Karma Police” that I already loved, but a lot of the more subtle songs like “Subterranean Homesick Alien” and “Lucky.” I remember being surprised at how much I enjoyed the album and that it was strange that it hadn’t already caught on with me. It hooked me in enough that afternoon to earn the repeated plays that burned most of that record into my brain.

One of the things that I love when I hear songs from OK Computer is the way the band utilized the studio to build their songs. I’ve always loved the way they layered all of the different elements in “Let Down” – letting the vocal harmonies, the different guitar lines, and the crisp percussion weave together to create this sonic tapestry. Ultimately, though, my favorite element is the way Thom Yorke sounds tunefully morose. It’s this melodic gloom that makes the song work, drawing on both a beautiful melody and the banal details of life’s disappointments. This is why I’m drawn to David Bazan’s version of the song. His voice carries a similarly melancholy tone, but while Yorke easily slips into the electronic ether his bandmates create to the point where he occasionally sounds more like a musical instrument than a vocalist, Bazan stands at the front of the arrangement. This is how Pedro the Lion’s version, recorded live in the studio, works as a more stripped down arrangement. Even without the same layering effect that makes Thom Yorke sound oppressed and overwhelmed in Radiohead’s version, Bazan’s strained voice occasionally sounds exhausted. If he’s not being crushed like a bug, Bazan sounds fatigued from all of the strain. Yorke’s protagonist loses himself in his existence, where Bazan’s version makes him sound entirely human, and perhaps too tired to continue to create meaning in a meaningless world. Still, some might find beauty in the struggle, and both Yorke and Bazan sing “Let Down” in a way that makes me agree.

More on Pedro the Lion: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

March 25, 2009

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“Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam” – The Vaselines
(Words/music: Eugene Kelly and Frances McKee, available on The Way of the Vaselines: A Complete History, Sub Pop 1992)

I feel guilty starting this entry with a reference to Nirvana, but without Kurt Cobain’s repeated championing of the Vaselines, most of the world would not know them. It makes sense that Cobain would be a fan, as the Vaselines shared the same love of wry, sometimes noisy pop music that Cobain rode to fame. Throughout The Way of the Vaselines (which is being rereleased as Enter the Vaselines in May), Kelly and McKee explore some strange sounds (the bike horn on “Molly’s Lips” being one of my favorites) yet always retain a sense of song structure. It made sense that Nirvana would cover some of these songs on early singles and perform them faithfully (although, they played them a bit louder). Still, it’s “Jesus Doesn’t Want Me for a Sunbeam” from the MTV Unplugged in New York that pays the most loving homage to the band. The Unplugged performance contained a lot of off beat covers (including a mini Meat Puppets’ set with actual members of the band performing with Nirvana), but it’s the Vaselines song and Cobain’s matter-of-fact introduction that stands out as a moment of pure reverence to a song (and band) that he admired.

The Nirvana version does the original (which the Vaselines would later rename to add in the “doesn’t” from the song’s first line), especially the string melody recreated by Krist Novoselic’s accordion. The song, a parody of a children’s hymn, skillfully toes the line between poking fun at the original and standing on its own. Even without knowing the original hymn, the song stands as an ode to being imperfect. The narrator accepts his shortcomings and acknowledges that he’s not “sunbeam” material, yet he refuses pity. While the song feels a little sad, I’ve always heard the chorus as a frank acceptance of the narrators’ imperfections, preferring to be taken as is rather than pitied for being flawed. It’s the kind of song, one composed by a couple of melodically inclined outsiders, that Cobain, the quintessential outsider, would be drawn to, and it probably explains why he produces such a stirring performance.

More on The Vaselines: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

March 19, 2009

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“Laminated Cat” – Loose Fur
(Words: Jeff Tweedy, Music: Loose Fur, available on Loose Fur, Drag City 2003)

I’m always fascinated by the way that songs change over time, whether through a rebirth through someone else’s interpretation or through the natural evolution from its humble beginnings to a final, recorded project. In the case of “Laminated Cat,” the song lives a double life, existing in the Wilco world as “Not for the Season.” While Jeff Tweedy recorded this version, dubbed “Laminated Cat” for some strange reason, with Jim O’Rourke and future Wilco percussionist Glenn Kotche in 2000, the trio’s collaboration sat on the shelf until 2003. In the meantime, “Not for the Season” appeared on the leaked demos for the Yankee Hotel Foxtrot album as a straightforward rocker (to be fair, I don’t know when these demos were recorded and if they predate the Loose Fur record). “Not for the Season” was my introduction to Wilco as an incendiary live band, as they opened their show in Providence the day after Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’s release. By this point, “Not for the Season” sounded a lot like “Laminated Cat,” as the arrangement stretched out with feedback and guitar loops.

Still, despite a shared melody and lyrics, these feel like two different songs, and it’s difficult to declare one as the “superior” version. Some days, the demo version feels right. On those days, “Not for the Season” feels right as a song that captures the band’s transition from Summerteeth’s focused pop to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot’s rougher experimentation. Other days, the stretched out drone in “Laminated Cat” captures Tweedy’s song about detachment and feeling out of place. The hum of the guitars and the repetitive nature (like the seasons) make it seem shorter than its seven minute running length. Still, the final tipping point towards the Loose Fur version is Kotche’s drumming. At some moments, Kotche plays rhythms complex enough that his parts sound like two or three percussionists working together. In a song where the guitars build atmosphere rather than create melody, Kotche’s drumming stands out as a featured player. He feeds into the looping feel of the song yet constantly embellishes, making his loops build on prior beats. It’s a fascinating both through a close listen (well, a close listen to the drums at least) or as background music, letting the song slide into your subconscious only to crave hearing it again later.

More on Loose Fur: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

February 26, 2009

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“Crazy” – Pylon
(Words/music: Pylon, available on Hits, DB Records 1989)

I know the music of Pylon for two distinct reasons. The first was hearing R.E.M.’s cover of “Crazy” on their Dead Letter Office collection when I first got into R.E.M.. I remember loving the collection of B-Sides, in part because it contained the 1981 Chronic Town EP (which I also had on cassette tape from a department store’s going out of business sale, not know the scarcity of the artifact), but also that it contained a lot of really catchy songs – in particular, the track “Burning Hell” and a lot of the cover songs. I knew that “Crazy” was a cover only through reading the track notes in the CD (and, also, from reading a bit about Pylon in the R.E.M. oral history Talk About the Passion). Otherwise, it seemed like a more upbeat version of an early R.E.M. song – a mysterious sounding verse in Stipe’s trademark mumble, and the catchy chorus sounding out through Peter Buck’s jangling guitar. I can remember making a R.E.M. mix tape for friends and putting this song at a prominent position early in the tape.

I finally heard some of Pylon’s music directly when the DFA reissued their Gyrate album (I was also able to pit up the Hits collection – essential listening in my book). Of course, I immediately went to “Crazy” so that I could hear the original version of this song that I loved. I was struck at how faithful the cover was – the same riff runs through the song, granted it’s played by late guitarist Randy Bewley darker and with less reverb. Vocalist Vanessa Briscoe sings in a more confident manner than Stipe (perhaps because Stipe made up some of the words, according to Pylon’s drummer Curtis Crowe). Throughout the music collected on Hits, Briscoe toes the line between letting her band take center stage and becoming the focal point in the songs. She commands a strong presence (in a way that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Karen O does) but is content enough to share her spotlight with her bandmates by disappearing behind their taut rhythms and focused songs, only to storm back to center stage moments later. It’s the kind of music that makes me simultaneously happy and sad – I’m glad that I’ve discovered one of the true American post-punk gems, even if I kick myself a bit for waiting the better part of a decade before seeking it out.

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

February 18, 2009

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“Road to Zion (f/ Nas)” – Damian Marley
(Words/music: Nasir Jones and Damian Marley, available on Welcome to Jamrock, Tuff Gong / Universal 2005)

“Welcome to Jamrock” was a song I had heard about more than I actually heard, so when I finally sought it out, I was a bit underwhelmed. After a few listens, it grew on me in a strange way – that “out in the streets, they call it mur-der” sample started popping into my head at random times, and kept returning to Marley’s semi-hypnotic vocal delivery every time I sat in front of my computer. It started to remind me of the Specials “Ghost Town” – another song about life in the slums. Both have a haunting feel to them, and both songs were ones that grew on me with repeated listens.

I’m sharing my reaction to “Welcome to Jamrock” so that I can contrast it with my immediate reaction to “Road to Zion.” I first heard it in my friend Mike’s car – he was listening to a mix a college friend made him and the friend included this song. As we drove around, we listened to the mix a couple times and specifically came back to “Road to Zion” a few times. Both “Road to Zion” and “Welcome to Jamrock” cover the same lyrical territory – specifically, life in “Jamrock” is not life in the Jamaica of travel brochures – and both have an (appropriately) dark undercurrent in the music. However, I find the slowly picked acoustic guitar and Ella Fitzgerald sample (that’s her voice right at the beginning) immediately grabbing. By the time the beat picks up, I’m completely hooked. It also helps that “Road to Zion” has a brief hook; it’s not a big, in your face hook, but it gives a different feel to the track; “Jamrock” has Marley rapping in the same sing-songey attack for most of the track, aside from a few drops of the beat for the sample. Marley has more emotional weight in “Welcome to Jamrock,” and perhaps that’s why people were drawn to it, but “Road to Zion” has a stronger song structure.

Marley’s voice is a departure from most things I listen to – I only have a cursory knowledge of reggae that extends to a couple Desmond Dekker and Jimmy Cliff collections (suggestions welcome in the comments), so I’m completely taken in by Damian Marley’s half rapping, half singing delivery. The Nas verse also fits well – he has a couple excellent lines (in particular, I love the one about having “daymares”) and crams in enough allusion and name dropping for an entire track, let alone one guest verse. Marley seems to have pushed Nas to deliver a quality verse – and I think Nas tends to respond well when he’s driven to perform, kind of like an athlete that wants the ball at the buzzer to take that final shot. There’s word that Marley and Nas are working on a full album collaboration at the moment, and if it sounds like “Road to Zion,” you can count me in.

More on Damian Marley: Allmusic | Amazon MP3 | Emusic | Last.fm

January 23, 2009

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

“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

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