Category: 366 Songs

Posted on

366 Songs 256: Au Port

Continuing my history with Camille, this was the second song of her’s I discovered. It took just a couple of minutes Googling and comes from the same album as “Ta Douleur,” Le Fil – “the thread,” which in the album’s case is the vocal tone that continues throughout each song. It’s similar enough to see a connection with “Ta Douleur,” but different enough to continue to compel; chattier, more nervous and then flowering at the end into an operatic performance that feels like it came out of nowhere and provides an amazing, hilarious finale to the whole thing.

The version I actually heard first was a live one, with Camille and band performing the whole thing as performance art on Later with Jools Holland; there was something about watching the performance as a whole that left me smiling, curious and knowing that I had to buy the album, and discover more.

Posted on

366 Songs 255: Ta Douleur

I can still remember hearing this song for the first time, years ago, the first time I’d heard anything by Camille; the sense of discovery, of creativity unrestrained by good taste (The various vomiting noises as the song really kicks in), of having no idea what was being said, and just of falling in love with the noise of it all. I was smitten immediately by the way it sounded so unlike everything else I was listening to at the time, and so complete in and of itself. There were worlds within this song, an identity coherent and personal, and I had to know more. Can you blame me?

Posted on

366 Songs 254: Married With Children

From back before Oasis were Oasis, the final track to their first album, and the first sign, perhaps, that Noel Gallagher had more to offer than just Status Quo Meets The Beatles in his bag of tricks. The sense of humor at play in the lyrics (Yes, that refrain really is “Your music’s shite/It keeps me up all night/Up all night”) against the gentle instrumentation made this the first Oasis song to actually win me over way back when, along with a bridge that swooned far too close to the sun of sentimental softness – “And it will be nice to be alone/For a week or two/But I know then I will be right/Right back here with you” – making the whole thing into a song that undercut the band’s own carefully cultivated thug exterior.

No wonder Noel kept it in the setlist for decades afterwards (I love the organ in the final version below):

Posted on

366 Songs 253: Tattva

It’s always fascinated me that “Tattva” was the song that broke Kula Shaker into the mainstream in the UK, if only because there’s not really a song there; it’s a chant with a guitar riff behind it, alternating with a simple verse with instrumentation lifted from “I Am The Walrus,” with only a guitar solo and bridge to break it out of the repetition (The single had an earlier version of the song on it, with the bridge absent; apparently it was added at the suggestion of producer John Leckie). That bridge is easily my favorite part of the song, as simple as it is; it starts at 2:31, and keeps up the glossy George Harrison retread aspect of the song while somehow adding a (tiny little) bit of extra depth, or at least variety. But, really; there’s nothing to “Tattva,” which makes it especially surprising that this song made the band into a success in the UK. Perhaps we were all ready for a modern George Harrison to listen to in between Oasis’ stabs at being both the modern Paul McCartney and John Lennon.

Posted on

366 Songs 252: Wake Up Boo!

I hated this song when it first came out; it sounded overproduced, overly twee and everything that I didn’t want in my pop music at the time (It was the height of Britpop, and I wanted my pop to have some surreal idea of authenticity and noise amongst its stylized, idealized sixties retro). Since then, I’ve found some charm to the Boo Radleys in general (The album following Wake Up, C’Mon Kids, is rather great), and found myself wanting to revisit this song in case I was wrong the first time around. And… I was? Maybe? Possibly?

What may have happened is that, even though I still have the same objections to the song, I’m less bothered by twee and overproduction. I mean, sure; everything sounds too shiny and the horns sound fake, and yes, “You can’t blame me/Not for the death of summer” is trying a little too hard, but still: There’s something appealing about the song, despite all that: The harmonies as the backing vocals do their “Wake up/Wake up/Wake up” thing, or the way the song reminds you – very purposefully, I think – of “Good Day Sunshine” off Revolver, perhaps. Perhaps realizing that “Wake Up Boo!” isn’t the worst thing in the world is a sign of old age. I’m due, after all.

Posted on

366 Songs 251: The Concept

Listening to “The Concept” again, years after I’d heard it last, it strikes me that the line “She’s gonna buy some records by the Status Quo” isn’t just a throwaway reference to the old-fashioned nature of the song’s subject, or a pun about her conservative tastes; the chugging guitars of the song reference the Quo in all their denim glory as much as the Byrds, and as such weirdly predicts the appeal of Oasis, who’d make their debut a couple of years or so after this song was released.

It’s that mix of jangle and thud, of comfort and curiosity, that drives “The Concept” through its first half; an oddly-grounded, oddly-singalongable song that hints at a sadness it refuses to name (“I didn’t want to hurt you/Oh yeah”). But then it gets to 3:14, and the song turns into something more obviously old-fashioned and out of step with contemporary tastes, something that sounds like nothing as much as a lost backing from the second Big Star album, and it’s just… lovely, and – because of the fade at the end – unfinished. The whole song, then, is something that refuses to reveal everything or tell all, but what it does share is something that makes you empathize, worry and want more.

As far as first statements go, it’s hard to beat that kind of impact.

Posted on

366 Songs 250: Hush The Warmth

If you have to wake up with a song in your head, you could do a lot worse than this one, from Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci’s Gorky 5 album. I always meant to get into Gorky’s more than I actually did; I never bought one of their albums, and only know – and love – this song because it appeared on a compilation given away free with a copy of the NME years ago. But despite my apathy in exploring the band’s wider catalog, this remains a favorite song of mine, for the innocence it displays, the purity of emotion throughout the whole thing. That it also has a folky sound, a mellow relaxation across its longing, merely underscores the… niceness of the whole thing. Something being “nice” may not be the best selling point for many, I know, but yet for me, it works just fine.

Posted on

366 Songs 249: Funky Fanfare

I am way too backed up with work, deadlines and preparation for life in a cabin this weekend, and so instead of a traditional song, you get Keith Mansfield’s spectacular “Funky Fanfare,” a piece of music created to be of use for radio shows, television shows, commercials or whoever else wanted it, as long as they could afford it. Mansfield did a lot of these types of pieces, but this one for whatever reason really caught the imagination of people in recent years; it shows up in Grindhouse as the “coming soon” music before the fake trailers, and was also sampled for Danger Doom’s “Old School”:

Mansfield is one of those forgotten geniuses of pop culture. One day, he’ll get his due. Here’s more of his work, the spectacularly-titled “Young Scene”:

Posted on

366 Songs 248: Rude Boy Rock

Pop Quiz time! Is this track:

  • (A) Justin Robertson’s finest hour and a tribute to the great reggae and ska music of his youth?
  • (B) An entirely unexpected rip-off of David Holmes’ “My Mate Paul”?
  • (C) Both?

    • The answer, of course, is (C), but I suspect that the David Holmes thing is somewhat accidental seeing that “My Mate Paul” is, after all, little more than a version of “Smokey Joe’s La-La” by Googie Rene:

    Holmes’ track definitely samples the Rene track; I’m not sure if the Lionrock track does, but I’d be very surprised if it didn’t, considering the beat and the horns it uses – I feel that it’s pretty much a direct translation, but your mileage may vary, as ever. I love the Rene song that seems to be at the heart of both subsequent tracks, and love even more the idea that two different producers rediscovered the song months apart, and used it as the basis for their latest dancefloor fillers. If only more forgotten classics had such impact.

    Odd but true; the single version of “Rude Boy Rock,” almost 90 seconds shorter, is by far the superior because of the edited opening:

    See? Isn’t that better?

    Posted on

    366 Songs 247: She Cries Your Name

    For all that I will complain about William Orbit’s production on Blur’s 13 – and I will, just be glad I haven’t really started here – his involvement in “She Cries Your Name” almost absolves him of any aural sin in my book; the swooping strings, double bass and shuffling drums in this song gave Beth Orton’s solo career the best launchpad it could get, and a far more interesting surrounding than almost everything that appeared on the following album, Trailer Park. There’s a jazz influence at play in this song that matches and sounds wonderful next to Orton’s at-times-overwhelming folk meandering, giving the song a snap and drive that, judging by her other songs from the same period, it may have missed otherwise. If only Red Snapper had been her backing band for that first album…