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

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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.

#955: Maxïmo Park – Now I’m All Over the Shop

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I don’t have a deep connection to this one as I do to the others on A Certain Trigger, I gotta say. The other tracks I’ve talked about that are also from that album I came to know through seeing their music videos multiple on the television. ‘Now I’m All Over the Shop’ I had to come to grips with straight from audio, and it was maybe that second or third listen of it that it got that hold on me that songs can usually do for a lotta people. It comes near the end of the record, and when you come to that point in any album you start to think that the energy might give out a little or the song’s might start to decline in quality. But it isn’t this case, with this track proving the point. It’s a short, sharp burst of energy.

To be ‘all over the shop’ is a British way of saying ‘confused’, ‘disorganised, or ‘in a state of disarray’ if you want to get fancy with it. Lyricist and singer Paul Smith, or at least the narrator within this track, is left in this state it seems after the end of a relationship where nothing seemed to be going right anyway. He tried to be polite and tolerate the other person’s ways through gritted teeth, but ultimately realises that this way of dealing with things isn’t fooling anyone, especially not himself. In fact, judging by the lyrics throughout, he’s quite disgusted with the whole situation.

What really gets the gears going is the instrumentation throughout. It begins with this really tinny-sounding guitar line, then joined in by Smith on vocals and these strange out of key runs on a piano. It’s deceiving at first, but then the pre-chorus starts with a proper explosion of guitars and cymbals. From then on it’s an energetic and bustling composition. Instruments drop out and in again alongside emphatic strikes on the drums, scales climb and descend, drum rolls occur all over this thing. It’s one of those tracks to pogo to and not do much dancing to. Mainly thrashing around and flailing your arms in random directions. Again, it may not be considered to be one of the noteworthy tracks on here. I’ve got no evidence to support that statement. That’s just me assuming. But it’s a favourite of mine, so really that’s all that matters.

#954: The Who – Now I’m a Farmer

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Released on the band’s Odds & Sods compilation in 1974, The Who’s ‘Now I’m a Farmer’ is certainly one of the oddest songs the band had ever made, especially once you consider that the rather introspective and ambitious Quadrophenia rock opera had been their most recent work and out for almost a year by the time of the compilation’s arrival. The song’s origins went as far back as 1968 when Pete Townshend was in the early stages of writing Tommy. You can kind of hear the similarity between the melody of the verses in ‘Farmer’ and ‘Christmas’ from Tommy. It didn’t make it onto that album. It was then recorded in 1970 for an EP that then didn’t see the light of day. And so, left on the cutting room floor, no one except the band knew of the song’s existence for another four years.

In Townshend’s words, the song is a drug one, but you wouldn’t be able to tell because the lyrics generally concern vegetables and corn and cereal and other usual farming activities. In my opinion, the song’s always been about how great farming is and the delight that one can take from it, and there are several points in the track that can back that idea up. It’s a strange topic to choose for The Who, but it was also written during a period where the band were writing songs about dog racing and spirituality, so it seemed that it was just a case of “anything goes”. I don’t know if The Who have ever been considered pretentious at any point in their history, maybe so with all the rock operas and the concept albums, but it’s a track like this that shows that the group could always bring out humour in their music and not take things too seriously.

Unlike other Who songs of the ’70s, this one’s a little less electric-guitar centric. Townshend is present, more so on the acoustic, and instead the rhythm is provided by the great piano work of Nicky Hopkins. He wasn’t a member of the group, but whenever he was on a Who track he could always make them that much better. Same applies here. Look out for those runs he pulls off on the keys. In fact, on the original mix his piano is a lot more upfront in the mix with Keith Moon’s drums pushed way to the back. I’m more accustomed to the ’90s mix, so that difference always sounded unusual to me. It’s down below, select your preference.

#953: Cloud Nothings – Now Hear In

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‘Now Hear In’ stands as the first song I ever heard by Cloud Nothings. Attack on Memory had passed me by, and it was in 2014 when Here and Nowhere Else was released and got an 8.7 on Pitchfork that I thought this may be an album I could get behind. I don’t think I listened to the whole thing at once. I remember it being quite late at night. But ‘Now Hear In’ was right there, so it only made sense to at least hear one song before going to bed. The opening riff sounded inviting enough. Then Dylan Baldi begins singing a really accessible melody. Alongside the rough guitars and grimy rhythm section, the track made sense then and there.

I’ve written about a few songs from this album now. One quite recently as a matter of fact, so I’m at the risk of repeating a lot of things I say in those other posts here too. You can have a look back. I know what I’m about to mention is in almost all of them and that’s Jayson Gerycz’s drumming. All throughout the album, he plays at what feels like a beat earlier than all the guitars around him. Adds a sense of urgency and provides a solid rush throughout the whole album. As the first song I’d ever heard, it was strange hearing the drums being played this way. But as the naïve 18-year-old I was, it certainly scratched a mental itch that I hadn’t known existed up to that point.

I’d like to think I’ve got a grip about what this track is about. Maybe it’s not as clear-cut as I think it is. But I’ve always seen it as song about an apathetic person who’s thinks life is all right, trying to find the exciting stuff in it, but it’s mostly the same experiences each day. They’ve got a friend or a significant other who pretty much feel the same way, and it’s with that common link that they get along with each other than most other people. All in all though, they’re not very impressed with a lot that goes on. The lyrics do introduce a theme of living in the now, but the track itself doesn’t resolve that theme in the most positive way. That’s not until the album’s final track. And it’s with that uncertainty that we’re left with a fine album opener. Always have a good time with this one.

#952: Eels – Novocaine for the Soul

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‘Novocaine for the Soul’ is the first song on Eels’ debut album Beautiful Freak and was the band’s first released single back in ’96. It introduced the world to the detached outlook on life taken by frontman Mark Oliver Everett, commonly referred to as E, a theme would carry on throughout a lot of the band’s work. As a ’90s baby myself, I wouldn’t have come across the song until way later, most likely when its video showed on MTV2 out of the blue one day. The visual of the three band members floating in the air was quite the suitable accompaniment for the music, even if the video static censoring of the word ‘fucking’ in there is a bit much. I’ve had the imagery from the video in my head whenever I hear this one.

What the narrator is this track is asking for when they refer to ‘novocaine for the soul’ is basically anything meaningful to get at the least a bit excited about. I don’t know if the opening lyrics are ‘iconic’, I think that’s words thrown around a lot these days. But an opening line of “Life is hard, and so am I/You better give me something so I don’t die,” that’s a pretty good way to start things off in my eyes. Sets the scene straight. He’s a simple man who doesn’t want to die too soon. He knows he’s gotta go someday, but before then could someone give him something to be happy about. There’s a whole bunch of sarcasm going on, but it’s also very sincere in its ways which was what the ’90s in music was all about when it comes down to it.

Track’s got a nice groove, one that I don’t think you’d usually expect from the usual alternative rock of the ’90s. The three-piece of £ on guitar, Tommy Walter on bass and Butch on drums really lay down that foundation. What properly sets the track apart is the inclusion of these grand strings that appear throughout. Not sure whether it’s a real string quartet or a string-setting on a Mellotron. If it’s the latter, they certainly sound very real. Think that may be down to Jon Brion’s hand in the production. Looking at the things he’s worked on, he’s always been handy in getting some good-sounding strings on a song.

#951: They Might Be Giants – Nothing’s Gonna Change My Clothes

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Hey, this is no joke one of my favourite songs of all time right here. First time I heard ‘Nothing’s Gonna Change My Clothes’ was when I would have been going through They Might Be Giants’ debut album in early 2011 or something. The connection I had with the song from that initial point was instantaneous. The band’s debut album is my personal favourite of theirs, and I believe that this song encapsulates everything the album offers in its two minute runtime. A fun melody, great hooks, undeniable catchiness, little moments that leave you thinking “what the hell was that?” It’s all there. And it’s so darn repeatable, I could listen to it for an hour straight.

There’s an interpretation about this track that I’ve seen online that kinda shocked me a bit. Before I’ll reveal it, I’ll tell you my initial thought, which I was quite happy to go along before I did the further research. Making it quick, I thought it was about a person who was basically happy with their life even though there was all this chaos going on around them. Everyone’s going crazy, yet this narrator looks in the mirror and is happy to be alive – a dancing skeleton in a fleshy overcoat. Although everything actually as great as everyone’s making it out to be, living in an ‘ignorance is bliss’ type state, I guess. The narrator isn’t be the one to bring everyone down. Their just gonna go ahead and live their life. Nothing’s gonna change their world, or in this case, clothes. So when I recently read an idea that the track was actually from the point of view of a dead person in their coffin describing the gifts that have been left in the casket, it left me with some thinking to do.

Whatever the track may or may not be about, I never let it get in the way of how I feel when that swinging high-hat pattern starts. It’s a programmed high-hat, but that doesn’t stop the foot from tapping. Things from then on just come as a bonus. The song’s filled with these small licks and moments that occur for mere seconds, but when you hear them enough they’re very hard to forget. Like those drawn out ‘yooo’ backing vocals, or that ascending guitar riff that comes in before the choruses. Of course, I have to tip my metaphorical hat to John Linnell, who sings the tune with a cool combination of looseness while also staying in time and reaching notes with an incredible tightness. The heavy breakdowns of the chorus endings add another unexpected angle to things and then to add to that John Flanburgh’s “Ever? AAAHHH!” right at the song’s conclusion, makes for one of the most cathartic endings in TMBG’s catalogue. I’m gonna go ahead and link the track’s demo below ’cause it’s just as good, and Linnell sounds even looser than he does on the album.