Monthly Archives: June 2021

#860: Radiohead – Morning Bell

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While those strange noises at the end of ‘Idioteque’ are still ringing and begin to fade out on Radiohead’s Kid A, a drum pattern bursts into the soundscape from out of nowhere. This drum pattern signifies the start of following track ‘Morning Bell’, a song that’s a bit about divorce and a bit about mostly nothing at all. I believe it’s one of the tracks on the album where Thom Yorke put words into a hat and sorted them randomly to make a lyric. But please correct me if I’m wrong. The likelihood of that being the case is quite large.

When I heard Kid A for the first time, I don’t think I rated ‘Morning Bell’ that highly. There were three tracks on there that I was immediately hooked on to. The rest took some time. All I remember is that one day I was either on a bus or a train going somewhere, and the part where Thom Yorke sings “Release me” along with that nice bassline by Colin Greenwood just kept repeating in my head. That small part sometimes makes the whole song for me. Its first half comprises of Yorke on the keys, Greenwood and Phil Selway on drums, all playing together in 5/4 time and really locked in, and there’s a real warmth produced by the music, it feels so cozy. It subtly builds and builds. Guitars join the frame, and there’s a sudden freakout in the middle where everyone plays that ends just as quick as it starts. Then the whole song’s mood changes for its second half. Like it changes key or just changes it melodic movement. Happens so quick you don’t realise it that much. It definitely ends in a way that you wouldn’t think you were listening to the same song. Radiohead are usually really good at that sort of thing.

I hope that we see a reissue akin to the OKNOTOK release for a 20th anniversary of Kid A and Amnesiac. Honestly, I think it would have been set to go last year if everything that happened then didn’t happen. Though I believe it still could. No harm in wishing.

#859: Good Shoes – Morden

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2007 was a good time to be an indie band from the UK. Since Arctic Monkeys had exploded the year before, the floodgates opened and those groups just kept on coming. But even if they had only one popular song, they could go at least somewhere and get a bit of hype before they eventually disappeared. Good Shoes had more than just one good song. They had a few actually. ‘All in My Head’ was their first single, came with a great music video too. And from my experience, whenever a new Good Shoes video arrived on MTV2, the song it was made to promote was usually very good. And one day I was sitting there, watching music videos come and go on that channel, when the video for the band’s ‘new’ single ‘Morden’ appeared.

I’ve been in Morden once. Not for any great length of time. I passed through the place during an Uber ride to its train station. I really should have gone home that night instead of getting too drunk that I had to stay round at a friend’s who lived near there. It was a long journey back to my place, I tell you. From what I saw of Morden, I didn’t think it was that bad. I don’t live there though, so my opinion shouldn’t matter much. However, the members of Good Shoes are, and the band’s track ‘Morden’ is a tale of just how shitty the town can be. Or at least how shitty the place was in the eyes of singer Rhys Jones.

The track’s a sweet 2-and-a-half minute jangly pop tune, but in it Jones straight out tells the listener that Morden isn’t a place you want to take your kids too. People are apparently racist, some might stab if you walk into the wrong area, kids are killing themselves, and overall it’s just a very uninspiring place that you wouldn’t want to live in. Now, I didn’t realise that when I was 12. Then, it just sounded good, and the one word chorus was quite memorable. Seeing the lyrics now I guess puts a downer on it, doesn’t affect my enthusiasm of it though. I find it funny in a strange way.

#858: R.E.M. – Moral Kiosk

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If I was properly updating my blog back in 2018, I would have fit in a post solely dedicated to R.E.M.’s Murmur. That year, I went through the band’s discography front to back, and found that the album was one that I had really been missing out on in all my years of living. I think I listened to it once in 2013, but didn’t care for it. But that revisit truly turned me over. I seemed to remember that ‘Aha!’ moment coming in on the first chorus of ‘Pilgrimage’. Then every song that followed just never let up with great choruses. It’s a chorus fest throughout this album. Another thing was that Michael Stipe isn’t really singing about anything that makes sense in a direct way on here. There isn’t that extra hang-up of thinking, “Oh, but what’s he trying to say?” It’s some kinda abstract/poetic lyricism set to jubilant melodies. You can’t beat that.

‘Moral Kiosk’ is the fifth song on there. I thought this song was okay initially, but nothing special. Not like, I dunno, ‘Shaking Through’ or ‘Sitting Still’. But further listens changed that opinion. I give it a lot more credit now. Once the beat kicks in, I can’t help but bop my head or air-drum to it. Everything’s delivered with this forward-driving moment, and that sort of call and response thing with Stipe’s vocal and those guitar fills by Peter Buck add a good dynamic. The track goes on, and then in comes that chorus. Here, Stipe yelps “Inside, cold, dark, fire, twilight” amidst these tom-tom rolls and humming melodies courtesy of bassist Mike Mills and drummer Bill Berry. Those harmonies are a constant in every chorus on the album, always coming in as a sort of cathartic release from the kind of sneaky verses. They always arrive with a sudden burst of energy. I’d also like to shout-out the final chorus where the rhythm’s changed to give the track a disco feeling before coming to an end. Such a good switch up when you hear it the first time.

You can try and get something out of Stipe’s lyrics for this if you Google ’em, but it’s probably not worth the effort. Not saying that the lyrics are bad. Not at all. But if you’re honestly looking to gain some intellectual substance, I think even the band members would say there’s nothing to them. As I said, that aspect of the album made me like it that much more. Obviously as the years went on Stipe found his voice and wrote some earnest, heartwarming/breaking, ironic narratives. All the works. But the lack of those on Murmur makes it so unique from the rest. Well, and Reckoning too. I’ll also take this short sentence to shout-out the song ‘Catapult’ which didn’t get a post, but would have done had I heard it sooner.

#857: Animal Collective – Moonjock

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I was a couple years late when it came to hearing Centipede Hz for the first time. Although it was released in the autumn of 2012, it wasn’t until my first year of university that I had my Animal Collective phase and went through their big four albums to see what all the fuss was about. The fuss wasn’t in vain. That run of albums is one of the greatest of mid-late 2000s indie music. Though through research, I witnessed that people didn’t take to Centipede Hz as kindly. Pitchfork Media likened the music on there to a burrito being thrown at a windshield. And it seemed that a lot of fans they had gained just wanted an MPP Part 2, and when they didn’t they got upset. As someone who wasn’t aware of any of that at that point, I can say with all my heart that Centipede Hz is all right. Not my favourite, but probably a lot of other people’s. I’d say it’s like a spiritual successor to Strawberry Jam. It has some great songs on there. ‘Moonjock’ is one, and it’s the first song on there.

So you put in the CD, or just click on the track name on streaming services, and you get these strange vocal samples that glitch and switch from one voice to another. Kinda like switching a radio channel, which was part of the concept of the album. A countdown ensues, and the track’s official rhythm begins with a stomping 7/4 beat accentuated by an open hi-hat. Sounds very metallic, like I’m in a factory with these pumps and other robotic things you find in those places. That feel’s maintained throughout. But it’s contrasted with the nostalgic lyricism by Avey Tare who remembers the good times of driving on the road with his family as a kid. His father would take the wheel, his mom would sing to pass the time, and generally they’d go from place to place to a point where he was hypnotized by everything he’d seen. It’s a burst of energy and youthful excitement, a good tone to start of any album with.

The track comes to a sudden stop just as things seem to start getting wilder, but all this radio interference lingers. Long enough that it transitions into the next track and the album carries on its momentum. But, you know. Well, maybe you don’t. Animal Collective fans know that the group tend to start their albums off very well. You can count on them for good album openers. ‘Moonjock’ is no exception.

#856: John Linnell – Montana

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Hospitals. No one really likes them do they? You go there for reasons concerning your health, and a lot of times they’re never very good reasons. But their general settings can be a source of inspiration for many an artist. That’s a particular case for They Might Be Giants, whose songs sometimes take place in hospitals and are sometimes from the perspectives of people having conversations in them, trying to escape from them, or lying in their deathbed waiting for sweet relief. It’s no different in their solo work. Today’s song, ‘Montana’ from John Linnell’s 1999 album State Songs, falls firmly in that final group.

I can’t tell if this song is meant to be upbeat and tremendously sad. In this track, a person’s lying in their hospital bed – how they ended up there, we don’t know – but after what must have been time of just staring into space, they’re suddenly hit with a revelation. An epiphany. One that makes so much sense thinking about it that they wonder how they never saw it before. The state of Montana… is a leg. It’s a leg. And with that question answered, they’re ready to die. But they’re so happy that they’ve figured this out, that they want the realization to be shared to the other patients and for it to be known as their last words before they pass away. It’s funny, but it’s sad. I think it’s relatable in a way that their are most definitely a lot of people who have said the most random things before they move on to the next life. And I think this song captures a pleasant balance. It’s a bummer that this person’s going to die, but at least they’re content with the world and good to go.

Maybe you’ll listen to this and think the song’s standard band performance. John Linnell sings in his usual style with the standard great melody to boot. But then the chorus comes in and your jaw drops. Linnell really sings “leg” with his chest. I think that note he reaches is the most powerful one he’s sung in any of those he’s written, in solo work and with TMBG. He’s never been the powerhouse vocal style person, so when that “leg” arrives the first time, it’s like where did that even come from. As the only song of his where this fully happens – I guess you could say it happens in ‘Canajoharie’ too – it’s one that always stands out from the rest. The song, despite the somewhat maybe morbid subject matter, was released as the album’s first single alongside B-side ‘Louisiana’, which was made available on streaming and download formats just last week.