I still remember the first time I heard “Magic Doors,” and realized that Portishead had somehow managed to refine its sound from the cliche of Trip Hop, and yet remain emotionally consistent with everything that had come before. There is such sorrow and melancholy in this track; it’s not just Beth Gibbons’ voice, or the words she’s singing (“I can’t deny or hide from me/I don’t know who I’m meant to be”). Is it the constantly-downward synthetic strings, or the finality of the piano when it appears? I don’t know; whereas earlier Portishead had a retro cool to it, this song – and a lot of Third, the album it comes from – is purposefully dissonant and awkward in its beauty. The opening tone that crashes into the drums… It’s utterly compelling, but somehow difficult to listen to at the same time. You struggle through this song, in a way, but in such a way that the entire thing feels curiously enriching nonetheless.
366 Songs 321: Melody
Say what you like about Serge Gainsbourg, but L’histoire de Melody Nelson is one of those albums that is likely to just leave you reeling from greatness, and “Melody,” the lead track, something in particular that can’t be denied. Just listen to what really can be best described as a “groove,” with the bass guitar and shambling drums and spiraling guitar line, even before the strings sweep in and the whole thing becomes casually, breathtakingly epic.
(I also love spoken word tracks, if done well, and as far as I’m concerned, they don’t get any more well done than this, even if I can’t tell what Serge is actually saying.)
I first heard “Melody” when it was called “Don’t Die Just Yet,” from the David Holmes album Let’s Get Killed; he did a (very faithful) instrumental version of the track, re-titled after some graffiti he saw in New York. It’s a great track, albeit one that seems a little less impressive when you hear Gainsbourg’s original, but one that makes arguably more from that wonderful, wonderful bass line:
Those who haven’t tracked down either album, you should really go and fix that right now…
366 Songs 320: Don’t Fence Me In
When in doubt of which version of a particular song is “definitive,” it’s always worth remembering that Bing beats most everyone, especially when backed by the Andrews Sisters.
Cole Porter, who wrote “Don’t Fence Me In,” is of course widely-recognized as a genius, and this song – while slight – is a fine example of that; there’s just such an ease to it, such a humor and relaxation to the lyrics and melody that it becomes irresistible surprisingly quickly.
It’s a wonderfully playful song, whether in the rhymes (“I want to ride to the ridge where the West commences/Gaze at the moon until I lose my senses/I can’t look at hovels and I can’t stand fences”) or the tune, which practically defines the term “jaunty.” It something that so clearly evokes a particular mood, but in such a way that doesn’t feel invasive or manipulative. Instead, you just feel yourself echoing the sentiment expressed, and feeling as if such freedom is a wonderful thing.
The Story That Never Ended
Somehow, I forgot today was Wednesday, which means I almost didn’t link you to my Time Entertainment piece for the week: High (Concept) Anxiety: Are Big Ideas Bad for TV?
This was the piece I was complaining about yesterday, the one that just felt as if it coming together on Monday; ironically, this ended up being a weird week for my editor at Time, leading to the rewrite process going all the way up to 8pm last night, which is unusually late for this kind of thing (There actually weren’t a lot of rewrites, it was just all happening later than usual), giving me a feeling of the whole thing just never, ever ending. Normally, I try to finish writing by 6 or 7pm at the latest (Hey, I start at 7am or so, don’t look at me that way) but this piece had ended up running past that two nights in a row, with me doing drafts and rewrites while on the couch in the living room with my laptop just because I couldn’t bear to be in my office any longer that day. I’m not sure if something you end up creating yourself can actually feel oppressive, but this definitely came close.
(For those curious: It was written with all the “fuck”s in there, and then had to be edited because that’s apparently a verboten word on Time.com. I can never quite understand language restrictions and what’s cool and what’s not; I don’t get why “shit” is allowed, but “fuck” isn’t, for example, but these are just the ways of the Internet world…)
366 Songs 319: The Ballad of El Goodo
“The Ballad of El Goodo” is one of those songs that almost dares you to listen to it, with a title that bad (I’ve never quite worked out whether or not “El Goodo” is meant to be a pun on the British “Good-o!” saying), but within seconds of it beginning, the title – which has nothing to do with the song at all, thankfully – is forgotten. Have guitars ever chimed as beautifully as they do at the start of this song? Is there a more wistful opening lyric than “Years ago, my heart was set to live/I’ve been trying hard against unbelievable odds”?
Even with the strength of Alex Chilton’s back catalog, it’s tempting to announce “Ballad” as his best work, or at least his most complete pop song; there’s something so simultaneously personal about the lyrics and so universal about them, too (Really, they’re so generic as to be almost meaningless, but somehow they work here), and the melody of the music hits that ideal note of sing-a-longable and surprising, familiar even on a first listen, yet in such a way that you want to stop listening. Add to that, the arrangement – the bloom of harmonies at 1:01, or acoustic guitar overlaid on top of electric to make the notes particularly crisp to the ear (Jody Stephens’ pretty fucking great on the drums on this one, too). Plus, you know, any song that ends with the band exhorting listeners to “hold on” over and over again… I may swoon.
(It’s been covered many times, but surprisingly, the covers are hard to find on YouTube. I did discover this, however, which is rather lovely:
Again, man: Those harmonies.)
“Oh… So You’re Also a Student Then?”
It’s tempting to point to this and just say “This,” but that’s a little too reductive. Instead, I’ll say that that strip is a wonderful summation of the weirdness of not only being a freelancer, but being a freelancer who works for online outlets. In particular, this bit –
– rings all too true in my brain.
Reading it was oddly comforting, and made me think that Internet freelancers should start a support group, or something.
“It’s An Impressive Sight, Isn’t It?”
366 Songs 318: I’m Only Sleeping
If only this song had been released post-White Album, I could make a joke about this being what John Lennon did after he was so tired, but sadly reality doesn’t want to play along. It’s tempting to use the lightness of this song as an argument for whatever drug the Beatles were on at the time (Revolver, so I guess it was either the end of pot or the start of LSD?) against the heroin that was beginning to creep into their lives around the time of “I’m So Tired,” considering the contrasting natures of both songs. The track as recorded definitely overdoes the sound effects – potentially as a way of livening up what is actually a pretty simple, throwaway track that doesn’t have a lot of “there” there, as the saying goes – but it’s pretty much the definition of “lightweight and agreeable,” for that. If the intent when writing this song was to come up with something that feels as insubstantial as air, Lennon did a pretty good job with this one, let’s be honest.
Something somewhat unusual: The song was speeded up during mastering, which is why Lennon’s voice sounds as high as it does in the version above. Because it’s the Beatles, of course there’s a bootleg of the original version at the original speed…
And yet, the original demo for the song…? It’s back at the faster speed. Perhaps the band ended up recording it slower than Lennon intended for some reason, with the intent that they’d just fix things later…?
366 Songs 317: I’m So Tired
Let’s just call this a thematic choice, considering my current state of mind.
We’re veering deeply towards self-indulgent John Lennon with this song – I don’t know why, but there’s something about the vocals that give it away for me, whenever he’s trying or not – but there’s still a lot to like about “I’m So Tired,” not least of which is the fact that it’s less a song than a feeling. After all, there really is a laziness and lethargy to the opening of the track, a sense of the exhaustion that’s so haunting Lennon (“I’m going insane,” remember). That the song builds from there into something… else. I love that the entire song feels monotonous even as it builds to the sudden end (There’s a thudding repetition to the “No joke/It’s doing me harm” section, as if it really wants to rock out but just can’t get the energy); listening to this, it’s hard to not feel an apathy setting into your head. It’s music as virus, in many ways.
The Hidden Reason Why I Was So Silent Yesterday
I’m not entirely sure whether it was a weekend that was fuller of stuff – Not even necessarily interesting stuff, but stuff nonetheless – than I’d intended or what, but yesterday was one of those days where my brain just wouldn’t work. I worked the entire day, but just wasn’t productive in the way that I wanted/needed to be (In the end, I finished work somewhere around 10pm, because deadlines are deadlines and don’t wait around for inspiration; I started closer to 7am, though, and only took off around three hours in between), and just the idea of actually concentrating on what needed to be done seemed exhausting in and of itself.
These days happen, sometimes; the days when you’re just done, through no fault of your own. You’re out of juice, and all you really want to do is stop, sit back and relax, maybe read some more of that Gene Wilder autobiography that you’ve surprised yourself by getting into. It’s normally a sign that overwork has taken its toll and a vacation is needed, which might be the first time that’s actually happened in a timely manner, considering that Thanksgiving is around the corner. The first hint should’ve been the disruption in sleep pattern last week, now that I think about it…