Monthly Archives: June 2019

#621: They Might Be Giants – In Fact

Leave a reply

To any They Might Be Giants fan who may be reading this, hello. There are dozens of us. It’s hard for TMBG fans to agree which album is the group’s best. I have my personal favourite (their debut), people may suggest Apollo 18, some Factory Showroom, really you can’t go wrong. I believe though that Join Us released in 2011, and their first ‘adult’ album in four years at the time, is one of their best and I can’t believe that it’s been almost ten years since it’s been out. I was sixteen, just finished my GCSEs, went on holiday to the USA and it was released during my time there. I think I had heard samples of all the songs somewhere before. And ‘Can’t Keep Johnny Down‘ had premiered a few months prior. It was a good time to be alive.

‘In Fact’ is the eighth track on Join Us. Sung by John Flansburgh, it’s another playful tune on the album that takes a lot of strange musical turns. A blaring trumpet – played by Curt Ramm – begins it all and wilts away before a train-like rhythm gets going and the lyrics come in. I’ve always appreciated the little details in this song. The little climbing guitar line that plays while Flansburgh sings, that *bink-bink* noise that you can hear in every other line, the way Marty Beller improvises his percussion at some parts. It’s a great song to enjoy listening to. There is a large presence of horns as well, if you like those.

Like many other TMBG songs it’s understandable to not be able to quite understand what either John Linnell or Flansburgh are specifically singing about in their songs, just because of the wordplay and surreal imagery they tend to use in their lyrics. It is no different here. What it comes down to, I think, is that the narrator is ‘a mess’ and ‘isn’t right’ (as is repeated throughout) and Flansburgh uses all of this imagery of chess pieces and mice to illustrate the absurdity of it all. I think that’s a good way to look at it. And just when you think the song is over it turns into this huge 6/8 groove with guitar feedback and a horn freak-out ending which comes out of nowhere. (It’s actually foreshadowed by the lone trumpet right at the beginning) All of this in two minutes and twenty seconds.

#620: The Cure – In Between Days

Leave a reply

I heard this song in an advert way before I even knew who The Cure were. Possibly in about 2003. I was eight years old. If I can remember correctly, it was an advert for ‘best driving songs’ CD or something along those lines. It had to do with a car. Only about 15 seconds of the song were played; those seconds consisted of the rushing guitar and synths from the song’s intro. It would be many years later that I would listen to the whole song, purely by coincidence when it’s video played on the television one day. Just exactly when, I can’t say.

‘In Between Days’ is the song’s name. Performed by The Cure, as I have mentioned already, it opens the group’s 1985 album The Head on the Door – arguably their most accessible effort just because of the catchy and immediate all of the songs are. ‘Between Days’ is a bit of a rush. Very quick, propelled by brisk acoustic guitars and a strong rhythm. It’s done just as soon as you’re getting into it, I feel. But it still has a lot going for it that you’re not let down when it comes to the eventual fade out.

It’s another of those where I’ve never bothered to overtly analyse the lyrics again, but I always assumed it was about getting older and losing touch with someone you felt deeply for. That’s just from the first verse and a few lines in the chorus. He would actually focus on that subject emphatically on Disintegration I’ve seen interpretations saying it’s about an affair and Robert Smith’s asking for his true love to come back after she finds out. That could be true. I just like the music to be honest. I’ve always gathered a happy but sad mood from its tone.

#619: The Band – In a Station

Leave a reply

I’m not a massive follower of The Band. I do have to admit that their self-titled album from 1969 is great though. Has a lot of great songs on there that I haven’t talked about but will in the future. Until last year that was the only album of theirs that I listened to. Music from Big Pink, the album that today’s song is taken from, is all right in my eyes. The follow-up is much better. Though it must be said that Big Pink is probably one of the most important releases of the 60s. A lot of contemporaneous groups were influenced by its organic qualities and noted it as a way forward in music following the heavy psychedelia of 1967.

‘In a Station’ is the third number on here, written and sung by the band’s pianist Richard Manuel. The Band had three main singers: Manuel, drummer Levon Helm, and bassist Rick Danko. Out of the three, Manuel arguably had the best voice. He had a lot of soul in it. Very vulnerable and his delivery could be devastatingly heartbreaking on some songs. That’s not too different here. Manuel sings about walking through a station, noting what he sees and what he hears and wonders if the people he witnesses would ever care to have any sort of personal interaction with him. It’s quite an existential track topped with vivid imagery and quasi-philosophical lyricism.

The main focus musically is all in that centre channel where Manuel’s vocal is along with those rich keyboards by Garth Hudson and the rhythm section. Then Danko and Helm join in for some fantastic harmonies in the choruses. Robbie Robertson’s acoustic guitar is on the right and Manuel’s rhythm keyboard is on the left but they’re really hard to notice when you’re listening to the melodies in the vocal. It’s a very sincere song; it can really take you out of yourself for a few minutes.

#618: The Who – In a Hand or a Face

Leave a reply

‘In a Hand or a Face’ closes out The Who by Numbers, The Who’s seventh album released back in 1975. It goes that Pete Townshend, the band’s guitarist and main songwriter, was severely depressed and suicidal during the making of the record. He quit drinking after a long period of severe alcoholism. He was having an existential crisis due to the fear of turning 30 and wondering if he was getting to old for the whole ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ thing. The album as a result has some of Townshend’s most personal, soul-seeking material on there. After nine tracks, including one written by bassist John Entwistle, ‘In a Hand’ sees Townshend at breaking point despite the triumphant confidence with which the music is delivered.

An emphatic crash cymbal and chunky guitar riff begin the song before a thunderous drum roll gets the rhythm going alongside a salutary opening guitar solo. The song is relatively simple. It’s mostly three chords. But there’s an assertive behind every note, chord, and drum fill played that makes the song sound very nonchalant and unfazed. Lyrics-wise, Townshend writes about seeing people in various situations and trying to put himself in their shoes. He asks the listener whether they’ve ever hard the same experiences and self-assesses where he’s at in comparison. His conclusion? He was “going round and round”.

A pulsating rhythm section break marks the song’s key change, and Roger Daltrey, Townshend, and Entwistle repeat its main refrain before the instruments ring out on an unresolved chord. I guess Townshend was in so much of a spiral at the time he didn’t know where he was going. With The Who, with his life…. It wasn’t a great time to be him.

#617: Led Zeppelin – Immigrant Song

Leave a reply

‘Immigrant Song’ was originally released as the opener to Led Zeppelin’s third album Led Zeppelin III in 1970. However the version of the track I regularly listen to, enjoy the most, and therefore see as the definitive take is the performance that appears on the band’s monstrous How the West Was Won live triple album from 2003.

This version is actually mixed from two live performances the band did on 25th and 27th June 1972, so it’s almost cheating in a way, but despite this I vastly prefer it to the take on LZIII because of the rawness and gruesome delivery of every instrument on show. As soon as that snare hits and Bonham, Page and Jones come in together with the riff, it is almost like being booted in the face. And it just goes on and on. It helps that there’s a great emphasis on the low frequencies here so every hit on the bass drum really hits. Plant’s vocal isn’t tampered with at all unlike on the album. It’s basically the four men, in their prime, doing their craft in the most massive way possible.

Then when Plant finishes his vocal, he just lets the instruments do their thing in a lengthy instrumental passage. John Bonham, the powerhouse he was, leads it all throwing in these random fills and cymbal crashes with John Paul Jones keeping up somehow. Page carries out a solo amidst all of this. After what seems like an eternity it all comes to a resolution and sharp stop. If only it was the actual official take that everyone knew. I honestly feel this version of the song blows every other one out of the water. I mean, it’s for you to decide though. The album version is below.