Author Archives: The Music in My Ears (by Jamie Kyei)

About The Music in My Ears (by Jamie Kyei)

Just one man who's making his way through life one day at a time writing about the songs he has on his phone. And other things at some points.

#1127: Massive Attack – Risingson

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Massive Attack’s Mezzanine is an album that’s generally regarded to be a stone-cold classic. In music, yes. But especially within the trip-hop genre that the collective from Bristol practically brought into existence. The record taps into a darkness and possesses this sinister aura that I feel a lot of people couldn’t have seen coming. Blue Lines and Protection, the two albums already released by the outfit, were arguably more-relaxed and optimistic in their delivery. I say that, it might not have been such a surprise. The album’s second track ‘Risingson’ had already been released to the public as its first single, nine months before Mezzanine’s arrival, and was the sign that there was certainly something different to be expected on the LP that was on the way.

I don’t think I listened to Mezzanine in full until about 2013, when I was going through a best ever album list on a website somewhere. ‘Teardrop’ was the only song on there I was accustomed to, having seen its video multiple times on the TV. There was something effortlessly atmospheric and as I said before dark about the entire project. I downloaded it to my computer. It sat there for a while. Then I revisited it in 2018 or so, and it was then that I suddenly recognised ‘Risingson’ as a ‘new’ favourite. Its ‘toy-like people make me boy-like’ lyric was one that had been stuck in my head for years since that first time, but with that re-listen, I had a new found appreciation for the slick bass line, those reverbs on 3D’s ‘dream on’ vocals that float like dust into the either, Daddy G’s nod to ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone’ by the Kingston Trio, the ‘I Found a Reason’ Velvet Underground sample that comes in near the end. Little things like that. It was also upon research with a new-found interest in the song that I learned it also had a music video too. A cool one at that, directed by Walter Stern, where the band are in a house that’s being attacked. A lot of tension’s built where it looks like the members are in danger or are on the brink of being harmed. But it’s a happy ending as absolutely nothing happens to them.

The song’s lyrics concern the goings on in a dank nightclub, observed from the perspectives of both 3D and Daddy G in their respective verses, who particularly make notes on how people seem to change once drugs come into the picture. The former watches on with a sort of disinterest and pity, the latter wants to leave altogether. They deliver their words in talk-singing styles that seem to symbolize their numbness to the whole ordeal. And against a hypnotizing groove with contrasting melodic elements in the mix, it makes everything being described by the two vocalists sound shady and of a questionable nature. The making of Mezzanine was one that was fuelled with tension and frustration between members. Its production and the drastic sonic shift in tone was something that member Andrew “Mushroom” Vowles couldn’t get along with. So much so that he left the outfit soon after the album’s release. The trio Massive Attack was at the time became a duo. It was a six-year wait until the next album. They were never quite the same.

#1126: Brakes – Ring a Ding Ding

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No more Brakes after this one. Some of you may read this post and think, “So?” Maybe this is the first song you would have ever heard by the band. Well, if that’s the case, this would be a good place to start. ‘Ring a Ding Ding’ is the first song on the band’s debut album Give Blood, released back in 2005. The first song I’d ever heard by this band was ‘All Night Disco Party’, which you can listen to and read about via clicking on the title name. That’s a fun one. It’s also on the same album. Choruses come at you fast throughout the record, in styles ranging from country to disco to punk, no time to dwell on verses, and it all begins with this track right here. There’s an official music video for this song, which for some reason isn’t on YouTube. You can see it on Apple Music, though.

‘Ring’ opens with a small “woo”, a confident strumming of an F-sharp chord and some guitar feedback before the band come in altogether with Eamon Hamilton’s gravelly vocal. The narrator here describes the messed-up state he’s in brought about by the nonsensical, surreal things that are happening around him. There’s a cowboy in the court who’s singing to the monkey macaroni (which I think is meant to be a dance of some kind) and he finds solace in Super Skipper Sue who he hopes will provide some comfort to him. What I take the song to be is a big metaphor of going to work, just being sick of the people and different characters you have to deal with on a daily basis, and them coming home to your girlfriend/wife/significant other who makes things better when you walk through the door. But going literal with the lyrics wouldn’t make it that interesting, would it? After a passing mention of the phrase from which the album gets its name from, the song ends abruptly, leaving you hanging for a short while before proceedings continue on the following track.

Yeah, BrakesBrakesBrakes. They were a good band. They are a good band. Still not sure whether they’ve split up or not. The band’s Touchdown is their most recent album to date, and it was released 15 years ago. Not looking like there’s any new music on the horizon, which is a shame. But like so many of those UK indie bands from the 2000s, they just seemed to fade away. Pitchfork described Give Blood as ‘a gift to short attention spans everywhere’, and that is very much a sentiment that could be carried for the other two albums that make up what I guess you would call a trilogy. Don’t think things got as unpredictable as they were on Give Blood, which is why I would say it’s my favourite of the three. You can find the band on your local streaming platform. Can’t go wrong with any album you start with.

#1125: Ween – Right to the ways and the rules of the world

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Maybe the best way to listen to The Pod is through the way its broken up on its vinyl releases. Split up into four sides, having the time to digest one of those at a time with some breaks in between would probably allow a new listener to at least digest the 15-20 minutes that each side of vinyl provides. I didn’t do this. When I was fully on my Ween exploration in 2015, I dove headfirst into the album on Spotify and listened to it the whole way through. All 76 minutes. That first time was a slog. I don’t know if you know, but the album is known for having extremely shitty production, even though a lot of the songs are classics. At least to us Ween fans, anyway. ‘Right to the ways and the rules of the world’ is only the seventh track on there. On that first listen, it felt like I’d been listening to the album for much longer than when the song arrived. And it also felt like it went on for a lot more than the mere five minutes it lasts for.

Now of course I’m used to it all. The track is a slow, slow one though. Coming after the little non-song of ‘Pollo Asado’ (a very popular one for Ween people), ‘Right…’ is what I believe to be a mimic of those old, melodramatic ’70s progressive rock songs by bands who would write about things like folklore or traditions of the past… myths and legends and the like. Gene and Dean Ween take on this melodramatic route, singing about nothing but a bunch of silliness – brilliant imagery though, gotta be said – all of which is crowned by the aloof harmonies that recite the song’s title phrase. “Monsters that trinkle like cats in the night/The cosmic conceiver continues his plight.” Those are just the first couple of lines.

The screeching organ that blares throughout is the melodic linchpin throughout the song, really hammering home that sort of medieval type of sound that I think the song’s going for. Something of a vocal chameleon, Gene Ween puts in another captivating performance. Increasing in intensity throughout, it culminates in the final verse where he lets out a shriek and then falls into a fit of laughter as the instrumental continues. Some people may argue that the song takes some momentum out of the album’s proceedings. Whatever “momentum” that may be, going through this album can feel like being in a state of purgatory sometimes. It’s just as essential as any other track on there, I feel. The production is so murky, you could almost choke on it. But the song at the core of it stands strong.

#1124: Supergrass – Richard III

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The music video for this track is another where I think it’s just too perfect with the song. Watching it on MTV2 was how I was first introduced to ‘Richard III’. It was sometime in 2005, ’round Autumn time, I want to say. I would have been ten, so bear this all in mind. I knew who Supergrass were, mainly because ‘Alright’ was the usual video that was played anywhere. This in fact may have been the first time I’d seen another Supergrass video other than that one. I could tell that ‘Alright’ was an older song, just by the way its video looked. But I genuinely thought this was a new song that may have been released maybe a year two before. I honestly couldn’t tell. Turned out the song had been out for almost 10 years at that point. Fooled me, it didn’t look dated in thee slightest. Even today, it still looks brilliant. One of my favourite music videos ever.

The song, though, is pretty flippin’ great too. ‘Richard III’ was released as the second single from Supergrass’s second album In It for the Money in 1997. (One of my favourite albums of all time, here. A lot of “favourites” going on in this post.) ‘Going Out’ was that record’s first single, but had been released more than a year before in the first month of 1996. As a result, ‘Richard III’ was the track that properly marked the oncoming arrival of a new album and a new sound from the trio. They were fiercer, more menacing. They were rocking out. This is all nicely reflected in the video too. The three members play in this green dimly-lit room and play giving each other dirty looks and looking as if they can’t stand each other. Bassist Mick Quinn tries to run out, drummer Danny Goffey pulls him back in. Running water drops onto an electric wire and lightning bolts shoot around the place while the band go through the last chorus. Very cinematic stuff going on there.

Like quite a few other Supergrass songs, I couldn’t really tell you what it’s about because the band would usually write the lyrics as an afterthought to the music. Even the ‘Richard III’ title came about due to the threatening sound of the music rather than anything in the words. There’s no concrete theme, and reading the lyrics, you might think “…What?” “I know you wanna try and get away/But it’s the hardest thing you’ll ever low(?)” There’s not much depth to latch on to. All I know is within the context of the music and how they’re sung/harmonised by Gaz Coombes and Mick Quinn, the lyrics sound fantastic. The whole song’s a ball of energy. Gets the blood pumping. Never letting up really until the instrumental outro which fades out with a hazy wall of hammered-on/pulled-off guitar chords into silence. Makes me want to hear the track just that one more time when that silence comes.

#1123: They Might Be Giants – Rhythm Section Want Ad

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They Might Be Giants’ first album from 1986 is my personal favourite by the band. It’s not like the debut is where they peaked and everything else that followed paled in comparison. It’s just that the record very much shows the two Johns at their most eccentric, kind of brash and unapologetically unconventional, before they dialled things down a bit and went for a more warmer tone on their sophomore effort. The most avid TMBG fan will tell you that even though the first album is great, its second half may just get a bit too strange for its own good. I’m all for it, though. Tracks like ‘Chess Piece Face’, ‘I Hope That I Get Old Before I Die‘ and ‘The Day’, as unique as they are, wouldn’t be ones to bust out at the social gathering. You’ll get to the album’s last track and you’ll think, “Well, after all that, how could this record possibly close out?” It does so with one of the band’s greatest songs in their whole discography.

Before co-founding TMBG, John Linnell performed as a keyboard player in a short-lived new wave band The Mundanes. You can see him here, usually in the peripheral area when the camera is focusing on the guitarists or lead singer Marsha Armitage. Linnell left that band to form a new one with his good friend John Flansburgh, and with this exciting new venture was inspired to write a lyric acting as something of a mission statement. According to Linnell’s former bandmate John Andrews (another John), Linnell spontaneously started singing it one day while they were working together – not too long after forming TMBG. So here the Giants were, a new band for the 1980s, a musical duo consisting of an accordion player and a guitar player, no drummer, no bassist. But surely no band could be a band without a rhythm section, right? Well, no. And Linnell and Flansburgh were here to show you how it could be done.

Alongside the mission statement aspect of the song, the lyric reads as a big tribute to the ’80s in general, albeit with some witty remarks on how artists and musicians would usually get the short end of the stick. Like how poets and their fans will come together across the street from a corporate office where the real ‘pros’ are working.But Linnell says tells us to forget about ‘the man’, shouting out MDC and Menudo, Eurythmics (who, as it says in the lyric, someone thought the two Johns must be into – that wasn’t the case), general bands with girl lead singers… It’s a call out to the styles of the era, where people could use hats as megaphones, or have hairstyles made of bones. Seems like anything could be done in the ’80s. And now here were They Might Be Giants, a new band to add to the melting pot. Linnell embarks on a rapid-fire vocal delivery, matching the bustling/blistering pace of the music and making for one of his most engaging vocal takes. Expressive as ever, each lyric he provides appears to possess a different melody, rising and falling constantly before leaping to a height for the title mentions and eventually culminating in the track’s final word. It’s such a damn fun song. A damn fun song to close out a damn fun album. It couldn’t have gone any better.