I have often referred to this as a Walt Disney song gone awry, because it has some instrumental touches that remind me of things from movies like Cinderella and similar classic Disney animated movies (especially the twinkling piano at the very end of the song); there’s also an epic sweep to the orchestral touches that go beyond the traditional pop use of full orchestras towards something more similar to movie soundtracks, these days. This is a melancholy song, a fragile song, that was the soundtrack to my life when I first heard it for reasons I can’t quite explain; I didn’t even really have anything in my life that it tracked to, at the time, but I found myself playing this on repeat over and over. I think it was desire more than true echo; I wanted my life to be filled with the passion and longing that’s present in “Tonite It Shows,” the possibility of magic peeking around the corner at every moment. Mercury Rev have never sounded better, to me.
366 Songs 328: The Generator
There’s something very Vince Guaraldi about the piano in “The Generator,” something that reminds me of “Linus and Lucy” or another of his track from the Peanuts holiday specials – A playfulness, perhaps, but also a wonderful looseness in the way it swings despite the taught, tense guitar it’s set against. The vocals in this song are somewhere in the middle, with Beach Boys-esque harmonies that emphasize the 1960s appeal of this period of Lilys’ history. The album this came from, The 3 Way, and the album that preceded it, Better Can’t Make Your Life Better, are two wonderful attempts to channel 1960s Britpop and modrock into something more timeless and also a little more weird; you get a sense of that with this song, and the nonsense lyrics that are hidden in amongst the pitch-perfect aural atmospherics of the whole thing. For a short while, Lilys understood the spirit of 1960s pop in a way that few ever manage.
366 Songs 327: Thank You, Friends
“Thank you, friends. Wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
There was a point where I was convinced that Alex Chilton was singing this song sarcastically; after all, I reasoned, the rest of Third/Sister Lovers, the album it comes from, is a damaged and bitter and scared thing, and this is something else entirely; if it’s not sarcastic, then it felt out of step with everything and I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Years later – More than a decade after I first heard the album and was confused by this song as much as I loved it (It’s got a great melody, after all, and there’s something about the “Do Do“s of the backing vocals that makes you want to sing along; there’s also no denying that Chilton is rocking his preacher mode when he performs it here, with the “I said all!”s), I’ve come around to it. It’s not sarcasm, and it’s not out of place. It’s a survivor’s song, and one filled with surprised gratitude that he really has made it through all of the badness and the weirdness and everything in between. Sure, there’s some showmanship and insincerity in there, but that’s a result of everything else that’s gone on; the core of the song, though, is exactly what it says it is: Someone thanking those important to him for reasons he doesn’t necessarily understand, for all the things they did that matter in ways that he doesn’t necessarily understand. Years later, I can understand that feeling just a little bit more.
Happy Thanksgiving, world. And thank you, friends.
Post Script
Another day of just outright exhaustion – I’m wrapping things up now, but I’ve been working for almost 12 hours on and off, thanks to insomnia brought on by stress about how much I had to do (Hello, irony) and I’ve reached the point where my fingers aren’t always typing the letters that I want them to, which isn’t helping matters at all – but I shouldn’t miss the traditional linking to my Time Entertainment essay; this week’s is here, and is all about the greatness that is the Hallmark Channel’s Christmas movie line-up. As with last week’s, it was one that didn’t quite come together the way I’d hoped, in part because I couldn’t get my brain into the right gear to write it the way I wanted to (I wrote before about my exhaustion, right…?). Hopefully, after this almost entirely holiday weekend – I should be working a little on Friday, but that’s it – I’ll be recharged and more ready to handle the next one.
366 Songs 326: Braindead
Ignore the video; I chose this basically because it’s how I feel today, at the end of a marathon of working. But it’s not a total loss; this was a song I was obsessed with back in… 1995, I think? Perhaps 1996, but it was around about the same time I was discovering Portishead and the whole Trip Hop thing, and this was somewhere close to that in my head. Justin Warfield’s pop-culture-laden rapping, I’ve covered before, and its appeal then is still the case here, but just listening to this again right now, it strikes me that this song is all about the bassline, which unfurls slowly and somewhat scuzzily. There’s something seductive about it, but also something dirty, somehow. Back when I was twenty-one, that kind of thing was fascinating to me, because I didn’t understand why that would be, and what would make that kind of thing attractive. Now, I just hear it and think, “Yeah, there’s that bass again…”
Regrets He’s Unable To Lunch Today, Madame
For those who are curious: Yes, I am relatively silent right now. It’s the traditional crush of the holidays, where the time available to work on things shortens, but the amount of stuff to work on doesn’t… Not helped by the fact that, thanks to terrible timing by the fates, it’s the week of the month that I have to write catalog copy for Comix Experience as well as Thanksgiving. Every spare moment is being spent creating content and trying not to go mad in the process… but, on the plus side, I’m hoping that I can just take Thursday off almost entirely if not completely so that I can actually have a holiday for once. We live in hope…
366 Songs 325: New Orleans Wins The War
Viewed from the cynic’s point of view, “New Orleans Wins The War” is everything Randy Newman cliche in one place; listen to that plinky-plonk piano and the ragtime band, after all. But, for me, this is a song that’s all about Newman’s ability to tell stories in song. The lyrics of “New Orleans” are so evocative, whether its in painting the setting of his autobio tale (“Momma used to wheel me past an ice cream wagon/One side for White and one side for Colored,” with its casual racism dating the period and explaining the fucked-up world that was Louisiana – and America – at the time) or the wonderful way that Newman explains his father’s rejection of the New Orleans party and religion dichotomy culture that the family moved from:
Daddy said, “I’m gonna get this boy out of this place
Bound to sap his strength
People have fun here, and I think that they should
But nobody from here every come to no good
They’re gonna pickle him in brandy and tell him he’s saved
Then throw fireworks all ’round his grave”
Add to that, the odd coda that feels somewhat out of place, both in terms of subject and prettiness (“You got someone to love you/Who could ask for more?”), and what you have is a song that’s one of my favorites, despite the numerous ways it just underscores the cliche of Newman’s output.
366 Songs 324: Le Festin
I’ve written before about my love for Camille, and this song – written by Michael Giacchino for the soundtrack of the Pixar movie Ratatouille – is a wonderful example of what she brings to the table as a singer without all her spectacular songwriting quirks. Just listen to the way she swings from note to note, fearless as she swoops up and down the song with such pleasure and enjoyment that it’s infectious. As nice as the song itself is, with a fun arrangement that allows for an accordion solo that doesn’t sound as cliched as it really should, considering the Parisian tone they’re going for, Camille’s voice is the star of this particular show, bringing it to life in a way that other singers wouldn’t even have the first clue how to manage. How can you hear this and not smile…?
Random Thought
One of those ideas that comes to you when you’re half-asleep, and then by the time you’re awake, you realize you have neither the time nor the financial wherewithal to make it happen: I imagined a pop-culture digital magazine (As in, Kindle single or Apple Bookstore thing, or both) anthology called It Can’t Be…! But It Is! that I would curate, with each issue featuring, say, five longform essays by writers I love centered around one particular subject.
File Under: One Day, Maybe.
366 Songs 323: Hazy Shade of Winter
Those first six seconds. Those first six seconds. I could just listen to those on a loop forever, even though it’s a coiled spring preparing you for the dual harmonied “Time, time, time/See what’s become of me” that follows. That’s the story of this song, in short: The tension between the vocals and the arrangement they’re on top of; one is calming and beautiful, the other tetchy and tense (with such a great riff). That neither side wins, as such – The song just stops, wonderfully – makes it even more compelling.
Amusingly, when I tweeted this song the other day, someone (Hi, Adam) responded by saying that he felt guilty for preferring the Bangles version of the song:
Considering the Bangles take that riff and make it work as hard as it can, I don’t think there’s anything to feel guilty about at all. This is a great version, if one that forgoes the tension of the Simon & Garfunkel original for something more immediate and glossy. Wish they’d worked in that final “HA!” at the end, though…