#1419: Eels – Trouble with Dreams

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Very sure this right here was the first song by Eels I ever heard. Despite ‘Trouble with Dreams’ not being an official commercial single from the band’s 2005 Blinking Lights and Other Revelations double album, a music video was made for the track. It was that which I came across on the TV one day. According to Discogs, the promotional single was released in October 2005, so I’ll say I saw the video around that time. Earlier that year, Weezer had released Make Believe. They were on the TV quite regularly. And seeing ‘Trouble with Dreams’, I thought this was a new Weezer song and Rivers Cuomo had grown out a beard. I was ten years old, just bear in mind. But, no. This was Mark Oliver Everett, known as E in the music business. It was the shared thick-frame glasses look that fooled me. And Eels were a totally different group altogether. Maybe saw the video a couple, three times more before it disappeared from circulation? Some years later I remembered the song existed, downloaded it right away, and now I’m here to relay my feelings about it to you.

There are a lot of rock songs I’ve written about on this blog. You think of rock songs, they usually have electric guitars in them. Those are the usual go-to instruments you’d find in those types of musical compositions. Not in ‘Trouble with Dreams’, though. I’d consider the track to be a rock song. But replacing what would probably be electric guitars, if it were your usual rock band doing the usual thing, are a variety of keyboards. A celesta, what sounds like a harpsichord, organs, choir vocals which I also think are keyboard generated. It’s all about the keys in ‘Trouble with Dreams’. Sets it apart from a lot of songs out there, or at least in the collection of tracks I’ve written and will go on to write about. In the song, E sings about wanting to be with someone he’s affectionate for, but he can only dream about such a thing and can’t imagine the relationship happening for real. His dreams seem to always leave him hanging. So while he fantasizes about this ideal get-together, in reality, he’s spending a lot of days alone and apparently a little stressed out. If you’re a dreamer and found yours have come true, E makes sure to warn that they may not turn out how you wanted them to. You can see where the trouble with them comes into frame.

I think the mood of the track is perfectly complemented by the visuals in the music video. The spooky, minor-key verses – consisting of the ticking of a clock, the circular riff on the celesta and descending melody of the bass guitar – do give off man-aimlessly-walking-through-house-at-night-with-candle vibes, as E does in the clip. And then the soundscape opens up for the brighter, major-key choruses, it’s daytime, you open the door and see the blue sky and sun, before realizing you don’t like the outside so much. You shut the door and go back to your aimless wandering around the house. I really like E’s voice on the track, how he starts off sort of all mumble-like, before ramping up the intensity for the next line and then really bringing out the melody what I’d guess you’d call the choruses. Has a fine husk in his voice, nothing like Rivers Cuomo. And I say ‘guess you’d call the choruses’ because those melodic parts just sound like the culminations of the respective verses they appear at the end of. By the time all the verses, of which there are only three, are over, there’s still two minutes of the song to go, so the band shake out the jams for the rest of the song out until layer-by-layer it dissipates and the celesta and bass guitar play into silence. Really enjoy this one. Good for a Halloween playlist. And I should listen to Blinking Lights… again one day. It’s been years since the last time.

#1418: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Troubbble

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Stephen Malkmus by Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks again? Ah, okay then. You can understand, I don’t have anything new to add in regards for an introduction, considering the literal previous post was about another song from the album. But let’s see… let’s see. The first song from the album I covered on this blog was ‘Deado’, in a post dated the 19th March 2014, so clearly I was aware of the album by that point. A website archiving the radio shows I did in university exists. Not just mine, but you get the idea. Hearing my 18-year-old voice, not so much fun. On one show I hosted on 19th January 2014, I had ‘Jo Jo’s Jacket’ in the playlist. I was definitely listening to the Jicks’ Mirror Traffic in late 2013, so maybe Stephen Malkmus was in the iTunes library at that point too? If only my old laptop got itself together, I could have some concrete facts to give. It’s very frustrating. But to sum up, somewhere along the way, ‘Troubbble’ dug itself into the brain after album revisitations. Might have even happened around the same time ‘Trojan Curfew’ did.

‘Troubbble’ starts off the second half of the self-titled album, a bit of a punky, freakout session to kick things off again after ‘Discretion Grove’. I always think of ‘Troubbble’ as being an indication of how Malkmus’s spirits were at the time. There weren’t any signs of its kind of fun, throw-at-the-wall-see-what-sticks feeling to be found on Terror Twilight, which I love as an album, but it’s definitely moody in places. And at this point, Malkmus was freed from his shackles and able to just let loose a little. The lift of the Pavement burden was off his shoulders, and it was reflected in the music. It’s a sentiment I’m sure I’ve shared in similar words before, only because I really think it’s true. ‘Troubbble’, I really have no clue what it’s about. It may just be a lyrical exercise that Malkmus made to fit the music. A bit of existential stuff going on with “The world passes by in a flash / From the birth of the earth to the curse of your desperate math.” A great line, some catchy rhyming. Otherwise, it’s anyone’s guess. Here’s the demo. It doesn’t remotely clear anything up. Very interesting to hear, though.

You know, I found out sometime last year, Stephen Malkmus played the drums on Pavement song ‘Speak, See, Remember’ on Terror Twilight. I know it was initially said he took charge of almost every instrument on that album. I don’t think that’s true. But he did say in an interview that he played drums on one. Wasn’t expecting it to be ‘Speak, See…’. John Moen is credited as drummer on Stephen Malkmus, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Malkmus recorded everything on ‘Troubbble’ at least. I really like how those drums sound like a kid’s playing them during the verses before kicking into a proper driving momentum for the choruses. It’s a great change-up. And in general, ‘Troubbble’ is a track filled with oddities. All the squirty synthesizer work that goes on throughout adds to the playfulness of everything. There’s that moment where, I don’t know if it’s feedback or what, there’s that little melody that arrives after Malkmus sings ‘Literal swine drop’. In the background, an overdubbed Malkmus belts out “IF HE COULDN’T STAND YA” at the same time his singing counterpart delivers the line. I could describe more things, but it’s best for you to discover. What I’ll say is, for a song that doesn’t reach two minutes in length, I think there’s something new to hear in ‘Troubbble’ with each successive listen.

#1417: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Trojan Curfew

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There was a time in 2014 or 15 when I was playing this song in my iTunes library nearly every day. ‘Trojan Curfew’ by Stephen Malkmus, not credited alongside the Jicks officially, but they’re in the music too. Stephen Malkmus is my favourite of the guy’s work outside of Pavement, his first to be released, in 2001, after the band split up two years prior. Not ro say that there aren’t any quality gems that followed in the 17 years The Jicks went on to add to their catalogue. But as a package, a whole, the front-to-back, it’s his self-titled solo debut that’s done the business for me for more than a decade at this point. Reasons why, I’m sure I must have laid out in previous posts for songs from it. Why was ‘Trojan Curfew’ my favourite song for a period during those years? It’s not the most popular number on the album. I’m very sure when I was getting into it, a comment on a YouTube went along the lines of, “The ending was how the whole song should have went.”

But that’s doing the whole track a disservice. Every time those drums fall in and the rhythm gets going, I feel like I’m floating on air. The production’s just so damn dreamy. I could sink into the thickest beanbag listening to this song. It may be the feathery, delicate approach that some listeners may find as a reason to be nonplussed by it all, but I guess I’m just a sucker for those kinds of songs when they’re done right. And this one feels good. The track isn’t too difficult to explain. At least, I think so. In the first verse and chorus, Malkmus depicts a scene of Greek gods gathering underneath some Doric architecture, being merry and talking about whatever Greek gods would discuss in those days, with fields of green and nature bursting with life around them. And in a “look how far we’ve come” kind of commentary, the second verse and final choruses fast-forward to the “present day” of 2000/01 where the Doric architecture remains, but normal, you-and-me people are there instead, wasted on alcohol. There’s a little less green field, a bit more concrete in the area. So I guess it’s a bit of an environmental song, a bit of a poke at how insignificant we are as human beings in comparison to the supposed mythical figures that existed in the past. There are layers to this tune.

The briefest part of ‘Trojan…’ that I remember getting stuck in my head first off was the way Malkmus sings, ‘Field of green’. Just that little melody there. But it took a listen or two more to fully gauge the context the lyric was used in. Once it all came together, the music and the words, I was swept off my feet. Malkmus’s vocal take, so perfect. So laidback, it’s almost like he’s sighing. Sighing with a beautiful melody all the way through. The slide-guitar playing the song’s riff in the breaks, I guess, almost acts a chorus itself. Nothing like a slide guitar to create a swooping, soaring feel in a piece of music. There’s an organ that comes in during the second “We got smashed on Ios” verse that adds another flavour to the proceedings. And then of course, there’s the “bring it on home” rock ending that officially closes out the song after the fake-out that occurs a few moments before. So forget whatever that old YouTube comment said. I’m telling you, as a real person in the year 2026, the whole four minutes and six seconds ‘Trojan Curfew’ lasts for is worth the time.

#1416: Blur – Trimm Trabb

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‘Tender’, ‘Trailerpark’, ‘Trimm Trabb’. That’s a strong set of songs beginning with ‘T’. All of them on Blur’s 13. Again, it wasn’t too long ago I wrote about a song from that album, so I’m trusting you can all remember how I feel about it. But for any new readers, it’s my favourite Blur record, I’ll leave it at that. A small number of songs from 13 would have dedicated posts on the blog in another universe. But in this one, like I usually say, the stars didn’t align, the timing wasn’t right. Other sayings along those lines. I didn’t get into a bulk of the album until 2015, by which time the ‘H’ section was the latest in this series. I didn’t even get into ‘B.L.U.R.E.M.I.’ until 2023. But considering this whole thing is covering songs I had on my iPhone between 2013 and 2021, the potential 13 posts would have gone to ‘Battle’, ‘Bugman’, ‘Caramel’, and if you want to make an allowance for the 2012 Special Edition, ‘All We Want’. Those are the ones for me.

13 is the musical encapsulation of Damon Albarn going slightly insane after the ending of a longtime relationship with Elastica front-lady Justine Frischmann. Drugs may or may not be involved. General mulling over heartbreak takes place. And ‘Trimm Trabb’ is the climax of it all. At least, that’s how I’ve come to see it. Here, the feeling sets in. Albarn is single for the first time in a very long while, and he can’t stand it. His fashion sense is in the pits, he lacks a general sense of urgency. He finds himself nodding off most of the time. He’s out in the town, sees drunken idiots around him, notices he’s wearing the same Adidas Trimm Trab trainers as the showy, stuck-up assholes in his vicinity. He’s become one of them. He has no one beside him when he sleeps at night. He has officially reached his breaking point, and it’s suitably symbolized by the screaming that occurs for the last minute-and-a-half of the music. By the end, he’s left a broken man as the dust rises from the chaos, leading directly into ‘No Distance Left to Run’ as the tearjerking comedown.

The thing I have with ‘Trimm Trabb’ is how uneasy it is from the get-go. The odd echoing keyboard, the distortion on Albarn’s voice as he recites the address of a hotel the band must have stayed amidst other indecipherable utterances and vocalizations. Underneath Graham Coxon’s jumping acoustic guitar chords and the head-bopping rhythm, there’s an underlying tension, no matter how smoothly Albarn delivers the melody over the top. The tension only gets tighter when the demented electric guitars come in after the spacey break, tighter and tighter it gets as Albarn repeats ‘I sleep alone’ until the cathartic screaming and awesome riffage marks its release. I tell you, after the twist, turns, interludes and experimental moments, it’s those screams – which you can hear looping over and over again in the middle of the madness – that capture the frustration expressed throughout the whole album. It’s not the last song on 13. It very well could have been. But it’s the last time a representative of the record will be talked about on this blog. Another to add to the list of albums out of here.

#1415: Pavement – Trigger Cut/Wounded-Kite at :17

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Ween-Pavement-Ween-Pavement. How the past few days have been going. Don’t fret, there’s no Ween song coming straight after this one. It will be by Blur again. Today’s Pavement song comes from the band’s Slanted and Enchanted album, their debut from 1992. Haven’t written about a lot of songs from that one. My experience with Slanted.. is I heard the album years ago and didn’t like how it sounded compared to Crooked Rain… and the other following albums. As time went on, I’d watch the band performing songs of the album live through videos on YouTube, which then made me appreciate the studio recordings a lot more when I’d revisit them. That happened with ‘Perfume-V’. It happened with ‘Summer Babe’. The same thing happened with ‘Trigger Cut’ too. Looks like that would be the trick in getting me to appreciate the album as a whole. Whether or not I will, you’ll never find out, ’cause Slanted… won’t appear on the blog after this. But I’m inclined to like anything Pavement-wise, so we’ll say that I eventually will.

Back in 2018, Stephen Malkmus was gearing up to release Sparkle Hard with the Jicks. A lot of promo and social media activity was going on in that lead-up. At that point, I probably didn’t think all that much of ‘Trigger Cut’. Slanted… was the one Pavement album I never really went back to then. But during that time, and I’m pretty sure it was the video down below, Pitchfork uploaded a Stephen Malkmus acoustic set to their channel. He played ‘Trigger Cut’ as the last number, and that performance there was really all I needed to be swayed. There’s Malkmus with a 12-string guitar, just his voice with the notes ringing out. The melody popped out a whole lot more. It was like hearing the song for the first time again. I think it might as well have been, I probably hadn’t heard the original for a while up to then. So I saw the light, went back to the original, took it for what it was and found myself having another Pavement track to enjoy whenever need be.

‘Trigger Cut’ is the second track on Slanted…, the two-punch after the ‘one’ provided by opener ‘Summer Babe’. A very fine way to start your album off with two lo-fi indie power pop classics. Will admit, I don’t know what the song’s about. Haven’t built that close connection with it like I have with other Pavement songs. I could look on Genius, but even then I think a lot of ‘contributors’ on that place are usually reaching. All I know for certain is it’s all so catchy. So, so, catchy. Malkmus sings really nicely over the instrumentation. Eccentric drummer Gary Young keeps the rhythm pretty straight for the verses before bringing in the fills and thrashing crash cymbals in the chorus. The call-response vocal structure between Malkmus and Spiral Stairs in those choruses are a hoot, and Malkmus’s “Sha-la-la / Ooh-ooh” vocalizations during the break are arguably the best part of the entire thing. The instrumental ‘Wounded Kite…’ section at the song’s end is a slice of the Slanted… outtake ‘Nothing Ever Happens’. Did it need to be there? Probably not. But the three minutes would feel incomplete without it somehow.