Category Archives: Music

#972: Sigur Rós – Olsen Olsen

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August 2018 bank holiday weekend. Bit of a personal low point. Got absolutely shitfaced at Notting Hill Carnival, ended up heading to Acton in an almost vegetative state (which is the complete opposite direction of where I needed to go), somehow ordered an Uber with the remaining amount of battery on my phone, fell asleep in the front seat while my phone dropped out of my pocket, and when I woke up at the end of the journey I had no idea where it had went. For about two weeks that phone was in that Uber vehicle. I did get it back luckily, but because I thought it was long gone I had already bought a new one. I went straight back to work on the Tuesday, still feeling like absolute garbage, but luckily the office was a studio where no one really checked what you did. For a reason that I honestly can’t remember now, I decided to listen to Sigur Rós’ 1999 record, Ágætis byrjun, on Spotify. Though I didn’t have any idea what lead singer Jónsi Birgirsson was singing, the music within worked as the greatest hangover soundtrack.

The performances throughout the album sound truly expansive and enveloping in scope, and in the middle of all of them comes Jónsi’s angelic falsetto that brings a comforting tone to the proceedings. ‘Olsen Olsen’ is a prime example of this dynamic. It’s a track that slowly builds, introducing new elements as the track progresses before arriving to a almighty rousing finish. The journey to that climactic ending is well worth it though. Tempo-setting strikes on the ride cymbal are joined by the kick and snare drums. A hypnotizing bass riff then comes in, one that repeats its plucking pattern almost throughout, which is very much the melodic centerpoint of the entire composition. Jónsi and his cello-bowed guitar join the frame, though the latter doesn’t have as much of a presence here than in other songs on the album. A focus is put more on the double-tracked vocal of Jónsi, placed in the left and right channels, who sings in the gibberish language of Volenska. A shift in the melody of the bass occurs around two minutes in, lifting the track ever so slightly, until it all gives way to the introduction of a jaunty flute. Rinse and repeat that paragraph, add a triumphant piano and ‘gang’ vocals and you’ve got yourself eight minutes of some beautiful stuff. That time goes quick though, truly.

Thinking about it now, I think this track was the reason I chose to listen to Ágætis… on that day. A video of the band performing it live, from their 2006 DVD Heima, appeared on the side of another video I was watching on YouTube. It’ll be embedded below. This video had millions of views; it had to be good, surely. And it was. It’s one of those performances where I actually wasn’t sure if it was live, or just a music video where the album audio was being played over the top. It soon became clear that it was the former. Much like the audience in that video, I don’t think I did anything much but pay my full attention to it. Mostly because the music was good, but also likely because I didn’t have the energy to put anything into the work I was meant to be doing. It was a strange time made much better by the discovery of some fantastic music.

#971: The Fratellis – Ole Black ‘n’ Blue Eyes

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The Fratellis were quite a big thing back in 2006/07. At least in the UK. That period of time was one of transition for me as I was moving from primary school into secondary and in the full swing of watching MTV2 in the mornings to see what was going on in the rock music scene. Fratellis came about with ‘Creepin Up the Backstairs’. ‘Henrietta’ followed as the first official release from Costello Music. 11-year-old me thought that was one of the best tracks he’d heard in recent times. Didn’t know when that album was coming, but I knew I had to get it just to hear that song more than however much it appeared on TV. Then ‘Chelsea Dagger’ arrived and blew the walls open. Not particularly for me, never been that a big a fan of it. But its wordless chorus is one you’ll hear at any sporting event or potential drunken night out.

A couple other singles followed. And when ‘Baby Fratelli’ had had its day, it seemed that it would be all until anticipation for the next album got going. So it came as a surprise to me when I saw the video for ‘Ole Black ‘n’ Blue Eyes’ on the TV. I don’t think I ever saw that video played on the air again after that one time I saw it. Maybe the network realised they left it uncensored, the lyric “Just-get-me-fucked eyes” was broadcast as clear as day, and pulled the plug. But even then I can’t remember the track making a huge impression on me after I did the get Costello Music as a present. Or did I buy it myself… Not asking you, it’s hard to remember these things sometimes. It was in my possession at least in 2007. That it was even given a music video and recognised as a single made me revisit the song. Maybe I was missing out on something.

I was, it’s true. ‘Ole Black…’ is the closer on the band’s debut album. Not that the record’s a concept album or anything, but there are plenty of instances where track’s narrators are involved in different situations with women, relaying things they’ve done or said back to the listener. ‘Ole Black…’ is no different, the track concerns the titular character who seems to be down on her luck and the narrator wants to help her out even if he doesn’t really like her that much. But with its slow-rocking acoustic feel and reference to ‘Chelsea Dagger’ the song possesses a real conclusive tone to it. Plus, you gotta love that guitar riff during the outro. That might just be my favourite part of the whole thing. The music video is unlike anything the band were making visually during that time, though once you really understand what’s going on in there you’ll see it actually tells a story with a really heart-warming end.

#970: Arctic Monkeys – Old Yellow Bricks

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Looking back to 2007, I would consider myself to have been a fully functioning human being. I was 12 years old, so not all there just yet, but I had a sense of what was going on. One thing I remember clearly was the buzz around Favourite Worst Nightmare, Arctic Monkeys’ second album, released not too long after the ground-breaking debut the previous year. ‘Brianstorm’ was the first single. It was a bop, got to number two in the charts (beaten by Shakira and Beyoncé), and I got that album from my nearest Woolworth store not too soon after it was out.

Things changed for Arctic Monkeys in between the release of their first and second albums. Their logo for one, which I remember thinking “Why’d they have to go and do that for?” Didn’t think it fit at all. I learned not too care so much about it pretty quickly. But probably more importantly, original bassist Andy Nicholson had left the band and was replaced by Nick O’Malley. He was only meant to be a temporary replacement, but when it became clear that Nicholson wasn’t coming back, O’Malley was in it for the long haul. And this has been the Arctic Monkeys that a lot of people have grown accustomed to. It’s long been a rumour that ‘Old Yellow Bricks’ is about the whole Nicholson situation. I don’t think it’s ever been confirmed by anyone in the band. But at the very least it addresses a situation where someone wants to leave home for someone that’s supposed to be better, but then realises that that somewhere better isn’t all it’s meant to be and there is truly no place like home. A lot like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz.

There was a brief moment when this track was considered to be the fourth single from Favourite Worst Nightmare. At least I remember that the Wikipedia page had been changed to show that it would be an upcoming release, so it may not have been true at all. It was actually that Wikipedia edit that made me listen to ‘Old Yellow…’ a few more times. That, and I think my sister thought it was good too. I sort of remember that first listen of the album and don’t think it made a huge impact initially. But after hearing it again and again, yeah, sure, I don’t see why it couldn’t have been a single. Stomping intro with a memorable riff is a bit of an Arctic Monkeys standard, and that’s here. But I especially like the sort of weeping, swelling guitars that enter the frame during the choruses. Kinda makes things sound sad just for those moments before going into the busier verses. And then there’s the breakdown where things get a bit manic. Slotted in that penultimate placement on the album, it could be one that new listeners may gloss over that first time. But like me, you’ve just got to give it a few more chances. It might just be my favourite on there.

#969: Pavement – Old to Begin

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Stephen Malkmus turned 30 years old in the spring of ’96, and, you know, turning 30 is supposed to be a big change in your life. Meant to be a time of reflection. Have you grown to be the person you thought you would when you were a kid? What’s next? Or is this all there is? I’m getting there, so the existential crisis hasn’t hit just yet. But I think Malkmus had one in his own way, and his concerns and feelings about the milestone were somewhat detailed in Pavement’s 1997 album Brighten the Corners. In his own cryptic, surreal and sarcastic style as always. The music reflected it too. A bit of switch-up from the winding and unpredictable nature of 95’s Wowee Zowee, Brighten… was much more straighter and somewhat digestible. No less entertaining though.

After offering observational takes on the music industry and touring respectively with ‘Stereo’ and ‘Transport Is Arranged’ and contemplating about settling down in ‘Shady Lane’, Malkmus puts the focus of aging within the lyric for ‘Old to Begin’. ‘Embrace the senile genius, watch him reinvent the wheel’ is the song’s first line, which I’ve always thought was a funny way to start things off. Considering he’s probably writing about himself, it couldn’t be a more self-deprecating statement for a guy that was seen as this indie prince-god-man to a lot of adulating fans. From there he puts in an idea of ‘feeling like a fixture set in 1966’, referencing the year that he was born, and in the track’s final verse utlises a list of things that you sort of begin to worry about once you hit the big 3-0, like credit cards, back problems and general stress. I’m telling you, once he hit that age, Malkmus started to feel the hands of time creep up on him a bit. Although, I could very much be wrong and be spewing a bunch of nothing. It’s my take, is all.

I get a personal kick out of the introduction, myself. One guitar strum is followed by a climbing bass guitar chord progression, followed by a synth that imitates the bass, followed by a guitar that plays the same chord progression again before the drums enter and everyone comes in together. It’s an engaging way to start things off for a track that has a real mid-tempo, slow-moving feel to it. For a guy who knows that he can’t sing strong enough, Malkmus can certainly reach those chesty high notes when he wants. His ability to sing low and quiet before suddenly putting some power into his vocal as he does in the verses here is not an easy feat for any vocalist. But he’s able to do so with ease, and it all culminates with the track’s cathartic ending where the intensity ramps up and he’s roaring some “la-la”‘s in your ears. It’s not a track that a lot of Pavement fans will seek out, but it does the job for this guy typing.

#968: They Might Be Giants – Old Pine Box

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‘Old Pine Box’ arrives as the third track on They Might Be Giants’ 2011 album Join Us and is also the first time that listeners will hear the sweet, sweet voice of John Flansburgh on there, due to the preceding two numbers being primarily sung by John Linnell. In my case, I was somewhat accustomed to the track as it had been available to hear on a four-song EP, released by the band about three months in advance of the album’s official release. The track brings another of those instances where I can’t exactly remember where I was and how I felt on that first listen. I do want to say that I would have heard it on YouTube first though. I do recall being generally excited for Join Us to arrive. The previous two albums had been tailored towards children, so to hear new adult-oriented music by the band… just felt like everything was making sense again.

As stated by Flansburgh in 2011, the song is “about a burnout but it’s not sung by a burnout.” And reading the lyrics, that sounds about right. It’s from the perspective of someone looking in at another person who just doesn’t know when to call it quits. This ‘old pine box’ goes around punching policemen, unnecessarily pulling fire alarms and generally engaging in behaviour that’s just not right for someone of their time. And still, there’s still something you’ve got to admire about them. At no point in the track does Flansburgh make this character out to be an ass. Their mother thinks they’re a bit crazy, but otherwise it’s a case where people just kinda watch and admire the energy this person has. I feel like there could possibly be a bit of self-commentary hidden in there somewhere. At that point TMBG were approaching 30 years as a band. Maybe Flansburgh was writing about himself in another person’s eyes. Just speculation.

It’s a mainly acoustic number, but produced in a way that the acoustic guitars have this large presence in the mix and provide a proper warm feeling to the proceedings. A nice boom-boom-clap “We Will Rock You” type rhythm comes in to give the track some oomph. And if you listen hard enough, you’ll make out a bass guitar that’s really low in the mix, but it has just enough of a frequency to it that you can make out some of its melodies. Things slow down for the bridge where some vocoder comes in alongside a rapid drum roll, before returning to the boom-clap of the earlier verses and fading out. The track truly does all it needs to in the minute and 50 seconds it lasts for. In the context of the album, it keeps things rolling along smoothly. On its own, just a delightful treat to pass the time.