Monthly Archives: April 2021

#829: Deerhunter – Memory Boy

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My first Deerhunter song on here too. Two first timers in two consecutive posts. It gets crazy around here. Deerhunter was another band I discovered when I was in my first year of uni and trying to find new music to listen to. Particularly through Pitchfork. I also think I was just downloading any good album I could find so I could plays songs from there on the radio show I used to host on the uni’s radio station. But anyway, Deerhunter are cool. I think I enjoy a lot of the individual songs than their full albums… but 2010’s Halcyon Digest is the one of theirs that I can play through from front to back with no problem at all.

Today’s song, ‘Memory Boy’, is taken from that record. It’s a cheery tune about parental abandonment that lasts for just over two minutes. The song’s narrator remembers being a young boy and seeing his father leave with the television. The dad comes back to see him every day in October and play carrying the smell of weed on him. The the narrative flips around to the father’s perspective as he’s unable to recognise his son the more he gets older. A sad situation, right? But with that cheery guitar melody on the right and that blaring major-chord harmonica in the middle, it’s hard to tell.

Now, I know I said this was the first Deerhunter song that here. You’d think that would imply that there would be more to come. In the process of writing this, I’ve realised it could be the last one too. At least for a while, anything could change. All of the songs I really enjoy by them are before the letter ‘M’. But I’ll state them here just because they deserve a shout out. ‘Don’t Cry’, ‘Basement Scene’, ‘Coronado’ – all from Halcyon Digest, all great in my eyes. You should probably listen to that album all the way through though. ‘Agoraphobia’ is a wonderful song. I’d also recommend ‘Back to the Middle’ and ‘Backspace Century’. Some good ones to get accustomed to. Thank you for your time.

#828: Talking Heads – Memories Can’t Wait

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This is the first Talking Heads song I’ve written about on here. Now, that just seems strange to me. I thought I would have covered at least one. But nope. So here it is. I had my Talking Heads phase in about 2016 or so. By then I’d had Remain in Light and 77 in my library, and I knew songs like ‘Burning Down the House’ and ‘Road to Nowhere’ because of videos and all that. But it was in 2016 that I properly listened to their discography from front to back. It quickly became clear that Fear of Music would probably be my favourite of the band’s. And it is.

To me that album has David Byrne at his most paranoid, neurotic and vocally expressive. It’s a great record. Each track is about a fear of the thing each song is named after; it doesn’t work as well for this. ‘Fear of Memories Can’t Wait’? Nah. But the song is definitely about a fear of something. In fact, it’s one of the most frightening tracks on the album. David Byrne sings/yelps/wails about being unable to leave a party whilst seeing other leave and having their freedom, while also having all of these rushing thoughts bouncing off the walls in his head. It’s a bit of an ‘I have no mouth and I must scream’ sort of situation. But thinking about it, the lyrics kind of sound like the perspective of a person who’s possibly on ecstasy. Just maybe? It’s an idea.

The tracks carried by all these warped atmospheric synthesizers, no doubt brought into place by Brian Eno who was now producing his second album with the band. Tina Weymouth does her thing on the bass, I really like those notes that play after each line in the ‘Party in my mind’ sections. Generally, I just like how the song’s always sort of moving forward, the chord progressions… it just keeps you on the edge of your seat, you know? And the ending, my goodness. With about a minute to go the song suddenly segues into this other movement where by the end of it Byrne and guitarist Jerry Harrison are bellowing the song’s title at the top of their lungs. It’s great, man. Honestly one of my favourite endings to a piece of music. The whole 3 and a half minutes is good though. Very worth your time.

#827: They Might Be Giants – Memo to Human Resources

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Today’s song is taken from They Might Be Giants’ 2004 album The Spine. I’m not quite sure what the consensus take on this album is among They fans, but it’s a favourite of mine. I wouldn’t say it surpasses the group’s first four albums though I reckon it’s quite a solid collection of songs. Some very strong ones on here. It’s the first to feature drummer Marty Beller who’s been in the band ever since, so there’s that. It’s the beginning of the five-man group as we know them today.

‘Memo to Human Resources’ is the third song on there. I’ll admit it took me a while to get into it. I was 14 when I heard the whole record for the first time and wasn’t fully equipped with the attention span to keep me through a long period of listening through an album just yet. But I listened to it one day and it clicked, I can’t say much else. The track’s got a very weary feel to it. Sturdy band performance, no one really puts a foot wrong. Judging by what I’ve seen on This Might Be a Wiki, some people think it’s about a man who’s suicidal. Though I’ve had the idea that it’s about a person who’s having an intervention.

The person sits alone in the back as someone searches through the bathroom shelf, maybe for a bottle or some drugs, and they don’t want to accept the advice given to him by “the people”. We don’t know who these people are, but in this case I think it’s maybe some of his family or friends. When the intervention’s over, he thinks about what’s happened in the house and ultimately feels good about it. Still, it’s a bit of a downer from the point of someone at the bottom of the bottle. Thankfully, it doesn’t last too long. Only two minutes.

#826: Slowdive – Melon Yellow

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Summer 2015 was a bit of a transitional time for me. I had finished my second year of university and was mainly spending my time at home, but at the same time was urgently trying to find some work to do for the optional year in industry that was included in my degree. A lot of my friends had secured a year abroad for the upcoming period of uni, and obviously I wanted to graduate with them. So, I had to find something quickly. I did, and I may talked about how that went some time in the past. While I was doing those applications and waiting for any results, Pitchfork Media uploaded a documentary on Slowdive’s 1993 album Souvlaki on their YouTube channel. It was based on a record I’d never heard before, but I decided to watch it to kill some time. I suggest that you do too, it’s a good one.

Hearing the members of the band talking about how the album was made, the context it was created in, plus the in-depth commentary on some of the songs on there led me to searching out the album on Spotify. It has been one of my favourites since. It was an instant add to my iTunes library. This blog had been going on for two years by that time, so my personal highlights like ‘Alison’, ‘Here She Comes’ and ‘Altogether’ couldn’t have their posts on here. There’s another left that will have its own post, but it will be a long time from now. The album goes down as one in the trinity of classic shoegazing albums, the others being My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless and Nowhere by Ride. And it’s just so dreamy. Drenched in reverb and packed with pop songs with great hooks. It does have its darker moments though.

‘Melon Yellow’ is one of them. The bass guitar is backwards throughout creating this woozy, unbalanced feel to it all while the sudden hits on the snare echo into the distance. The lyrics don’t tell a coherent story. Seems like they’ve been put together in order to create a feeling or follow the movement of the music, which is fine I have no problems with that. There’s a lot of space in between each lyric allowing the instruments to kind of do their thing during the verses, but then all the harmonies and production trickery washes over you during the “So long, so long” choruses. Another track to get lost in. The two vocalists Neil Halstead and Rachel Goswell who were in a relationship broke things off during the making of the album, and I believe this track is another of Halstead’s that just sees him feeling low and wishing things were different. It’s a common theme throughout.

#825: Blur – Mellow Song

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13 is one of my favourite albums of all time. Definitely one of my Desert Island Discs if that programme asked you to list what records you would take if you were in that situation. Even I feel exhausted after listening through the 66 minutes the thing lasts for. Could you imagine how the band members felt making this? Well, it’s documented that individually they weren’t having the greatest of times leading up to and during the making of the album. Damon Albarn had broken up with his long-term girlfriend Justine Frischmann of Elastica and was somewhat hooked on heroin, Graham Coxon was drinking and angry at the world, people were fighting, not turning up to sessions. Sounds tense. But they still came out with this masterpiece. That’s right, I said it.

‘Mellow Song’ is what it says it is. It’s a four minute break from the chaos and disorienting noise that surrounds it, even though it kicks up a bit during its instrumental outro. The first half of it has Damon Albarn singing in his dulcet tones. I think it’s capturing him in the aftermath of his break-up. All he does is spend time in bed, hungover, taking drugs, or making music. And this is him singing about it in a sort of surreal and poetic way. He plays these arpeggiated notes on the acoustic guitar that move up and down the fretboard accompanied by these twinkling/ghostly keyboards and when he sings the last “We’ll see”, the song transforms into this trippy, bass-heavy instrumental jam. Like I said, it is a nice… wouldn’t say relaxing, but it’s something you can really get lost in with the right state of mind.

The instrumental jam has a lot of musical goodness too. Coxon plays this four note pattern that repeats and repeats while Albarn plays a melodica solo. A guitar overdub where Coxon plays these random notes and bends takes over as a harpsichord suddenly appears in the right hand side. There are clips of Albarn laughing or crying (I’m not sure which) buried in there too. It all goes on and on until it all sort of fizzles out and comes to a stop with a lo-fi recording of Albarn laughing. It sounds better in the context of the whole album because the next starts suddenly right after that. 13‘s great. If only I could have written about ‘Battle’.