Category Archives: Music

#962: The Beatles – Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

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Man, I think this song’s great. This is a sentiment that wasn’t shared the three particular members of the Beatles while they were working on it during their sessions for what would become the White Album in 1968. Paul McCartney wrote this song, borrowing the title from a Nigerian friend of his, about fictional couple Desmond and Molly Jones and ran through it so many times that George Harrison, Ringo Starr and John Lennon became fed up with the whole thing. A take of the track that was eventually released on Anthology 3 in ’96 showed what the song could have been like had it not been worked on further. Now, I’ve seen people comment how this version is miles better than what ended up on the album. I could never understand that point of view. Just sounds so tame in comparison. At least on the album, the group actually sound like they’re not taking themselves to seriously, which adds a lot to its charm.

It all begins with that striking piano introduction by John Lennon, one that he immediately and angrily demonstrated to the group when he arrived at the studio late, and stoned, and found out what song they were working on. This move apparently redirected the entire direction of the track, and it turned it from that laidback acoustic number to the jumpy, faux-reggae version it was born to be. In the end, it sounds like the band had a fun time recording this new take on the track, especially when it comes to the vocals. With McCartney taking the lead, you can hear Harrison and Lennon jump in with these subtle ad-libs. Maybe to throw McCartney off, I don’t know. For example, when McCartney sings “Desmond lets the children lend a hand,”, Harrison says “arm” and Lennon yelps “leg.” Lennon spells the word “home” at one point. And caught up in all the excitement, McCartney makes a mistake and sings “Desmond stays at home and does his pretty face” in the final verse when it should be Molly. Through all his efforts of trying to make the song perfect, he hilariously slips up. But again, all adds to the charm.

“Ob-La-Di…” has been in a few “Worst Song Ever” lists over the years. I could see why. Guess people just don’t like songs that are too happy and too silly and probably don’t have much substance. But I’m not one of those people. Get those lists out of here. I think in the past there may have been some anti-bias against it due to John Lennon labelling it as the ‘granny shit’ that McCartney had seemed to be churning out in those years. But damn, I’ll sing the damn bassline or those ‘la-la-la’ backing chorus vocals any time of day. Is it my favorite Beatles song? Let’s not go that far. But it makes me feel good when I listen to it, and that’s what all of my favourite songs do. So if you want some fun, take Ob-La-Di-Bla-Da, heeeeeeey.

#961: The Maccabees – O.A.V.I.P.

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I knew I was going to see you again. It’s been a long break. Actually finished writing up the previous letter section in April, even the last post was officially out in the middle of May. Just goes to show how much time I give myself to write these things and come back to them if need be. But I’ve been okay. I went to the first weekend of Primavera Sound in the month of June, saw Pavement which is something I would tick of my bucket list if I had one, and generally been working ever since. But a hole in my life needs to be filled, and that’s writing on this blog again. So here it goes. Here come the O’s.

The inaugural song to mark the occasion comes courtesy of The Maccabees, a band I’ve written about a few times before on here. ‘O.A.V.I.P’ is the seventh song on their debut album Colour It In, opening up its second half in a similar manner as the whole record. From what I recall, opener ‘Good Old Bill’ is about the death of one of the bandmember’s grandparents. ‘O.A.V.I.P’, standing for ‘Old Age Very Important Person/Pensioner’, is a dedication to the widow who’s now dealing with that loss.

“She collects medicines in the box where once he had kept his / And holds out hope the year old Werther’s will be gone long before she goes.” Those are the two first lines of the track. They set the scene immediately. Though they read quite bluntly and to the point, it’s singer Orlando Weeks’s delivery of them that add the emotional weight. As The Maccabees’ journey as a band continued, he sort of grew out/got rid of the quivering yelp vocals that were a standard throughout Colour It In. It was that style that made those songs stand out to me compared to lot of the other indie NME-hyped bands that were around at the time. Don’t get me wrong, the band play extremely well too. Brothers Felix and Hugo White play some great guitar lines that weave and create some great countermelodies. But those moments when Weeks pursues those descending-scale “Whoa-oh-oh”s and reaches that high “Farewell old dear” nearing the song’s end… Well, it’s enough to bring a tear to the eye. It’s a very sincere and sweet song. Always been a highlight for me from this album. After it, the albums just never hit me the same way.

#960: Interpol – NYC

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Turn on the Bright Lights has always been considered to be Interpol’s best album. At least that’s the consensus I’ve witnessed from lurking around on various websites here and there. I’ve never been able to get into it as a whole. They have great, great songs. The band’s instrumentals can be out of this world sometimes. But in some cases it’s either the chosen melody, lyrics, or Paul Banks’ singing style that irks me. But when everything comes together, Interpol can produce some perfect moments. Case in point, today’s track ‘NYC’. Even then, it took me a while to really get into this one too. But one day – relatively recent – it appeared on my ‘Discover Weekly’ playlist on Spotify and it made sense then and there.

I’ve also gathered that ‘NYC’ is a personal highlight for many a fan from this album. At its time of release, the indifferent yet sincere dedication within the song’s lyrics to New York City after the 9/11 attacks struck a chord with a lot of listeners. Paul Banks likens the subway to a porno scene, and the pavements are a mess, but New York’s still the backdrop of his life and many others and will always be there for everybody no matter what goes down within.. More than 20 years on and as a guy from the UK, it’s very easy to feel a bit removed from that whole situation. I guess I’m more engaged with the music than with the lyrics. When those opening misty guitars set the tone, it’s hard to get some feelings inside. Banks’ lone vocal quivers in the foreground amidst a great drum pattern that repeats itself. Those drums sound great too, the tone of that ride cymbal is perfect. And with the first chorus, Carlos Dengler enters with a travelling bassline. The track is really one of those looking-out-the-window-on-the-train kind of tunes.

I think the moment that gets people goosebumps up is when Banks calls out the album title during the album’s last few choruses. I do agree, that’s a pretty sweet moment. A great way to close things out too. Maybe it comes a little too early in the album though, just an opinion of mine that I’ve thought of at this time of writing. ‘PDA’ comes right after this track. And while ‘NYC’ does tug at the heart a bit, ‘PDA’ kinda pushes it out the way and kinda sucks away at that climactic moment. If ‘NYC’ was, say, the penultimate song on the album, think it could have been even greater. But it is what it is. And what it is now, and always has been, is a beautiful track.

And that’s the end of the Ns. I’ll be right back.

#959: Brakes – NY Pie

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Brighton band Brakes’ (or BrakesBrakesBrakes in the US) debut album Give Blood gets off to a very fine start. The four beginning tracks I’ve come to like so much that I’ve added ’em to my personal playlist for continuous repeats. I’ve written about two of them already. ‘NY Pie’ is the second track on there. After a short shock of some good indie rock on opener ‘Ring a Ding Ding’, ‘NY’ takes a bit of a turn. Not in the unsettling kind of way, more the pleasantly surprised type. That country-tinged opening riff certainly brightens things up just a bit more.

That is until you follow the story that goes on in the lyrics. Not to say that they really bring that good feeling down, but they do tell a definitely relatable tale of those situations where things that are meant to be going so well take a 180 degree turn. Here, our narrator’s fallen in love with a lady, or is in the least infatuated with her under the bright lights of New York City. He invites her out for a night, but then proceeds to get a bit too drunk and falls down the stairs of a bar. He wakes up some time later, policemen are all in his case. He gets out of that ordeal. And if the final verse is anything to go by, it’s clear that the lady from earlier wasn’t impressed by what she saw and got out of there before things could get worse. It’s a bit comical, but would probably hit home a bit too hard for some. But with the bouncy rhythm, sprightly guitars and sweet melody, it’s very easy for the message to just fly over.

Personal note on my end, I really dig Eamon Hamilton’s vocal style. It certainly makes Brakes songs stand out from other bands that were making the same kind of music back in the 2000s. That and their knack of making some powerful melodic songs that were only ever about two minutes in length. Hamilton’s vocals stick out here too. He’s possesses a Western twang in his delivery, and not like Wild Wild West of the US, more like the Somerset/Cornwall west of the UK. Only makes sense ’cause that’s where he was raised. But with that and its gravelly tone which is prone to breaking here and there and reaching some strange pitches, it’s always the go-to audible element to go to when hearing a Brakes song.

#958: They Might Be Giants – Number Three

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‘Number Three’ is a ‘number’ by They Might Be Giants from the point of view of a budding songwriter who’s feeling quite pleased with themselves now that they’ve just finishing writing their third ever song. They don’t know how they came up with the lyrics or where the inspiration came from, and they’ve spent a while trying to make it, but it’s here and they want to tell the listener all about the experience. Appropriately, it’s the third song on They Might Be Giants’ debut album from 1986.

Sandwiched between two of the most popular songs of TMBG’s whole career, ‘Number Three’ is probably nothing more than an a bit of an interlude for some people. A track that doesn’t amount to too much, but keeps the flow of the album going quite smoothly. I may have gone under that category when being first acquainted to the record. But in the years since, I’ve only come to appreciate it more. It may be one and a half minutes in length, though it contains all the elements that make a Giants song enjoyable. And maybe even more. Three- way vocal harmonies in the choruses, a very catchy melody, a bouncy bass and a bustling acoustic guitar, and also a looped sample of a baritone saxophone taken from an obscure 50s Italian song.

The song goes way back in TMBG origins, and according to both Johns Flasburgh and Linnell, it was the third song they ever learned to play. We’ll have to take their word for it. It may be that somewhat sentimental reason that they’ve performed the song live over 200 times. That stats taken from the band’s dedicated wiki site, it could be even more than that. It’s guaranteed to bring a smile to many a fan’s face though. Below’s the song’s alternative mix when it was released on the band’s 1985 demo tape. Apart from a different introduction and a quieter guitar, it’s very similar to how it ended on the album.