#1293: Nine Black Alps – Strangest Feeling

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Back in 2011, Nine Black Alps’ website looked like this. If you click on that link and scroll down a little, you can see that the band allowed you to stream their albums, 2005’s Everything Is and Love/Hate from 2007, as well as their whole catalogue of B-sides and a collection of their demos. Why I was on their website at the time, I can’t remember. But what I can say for sure is through launching the audio player under the ‘B-sides’ section, their inclusion being due to “public demand”, I came to know the subject of today’s post. ‘Strangest Feeling’ was a B-side released on a specific vinyl release of the ‘Burn Faster’ single. Strange that it was released only on vinyl, yet it’s available to listen to on streaming services. That’s not usually how things go. But in 2011, when I was 16 and already a big Nine Black Alps follower, finding these “new” songs felt like stumbling upon a gold mine.

‘Strangest Feeling’ was a tune I got into right away. Got a vivid memory of singing it loud in the bathroom while looking at myself in the mirror and brushing my teeth in the morning. Songwriter and guitarist Sam Forrest takes on the point of view of someone who becomes a family man. In his words, “[finds] a house and a wife and started breeding”. But this situation’s only really described in the first verse, with the second being a kind of list of contradictory statements, “I’m not coming up, I’m going down”, “I’m ecstatic, there’s no feeling,” et cetera, et cetera. A bit of a mish-mash of themes going on in this song. It may seem like a bit of a writing exercise in that case, and maybe that’s why it was considered a B-side rather than a number that could be considered album-worthy. But its hooky guitar riff and multitude of melodic points have always stood out to me. Like ‘So in Love’, there’s something very ’90s about the whole thing. In fact, this to me sounds more Nirvana than anything from Everything Is.

Ever since hearing it all that time ago, I’ve always thought of it as a really well-delivered, concise pop-rock tune. Poppy by Nine Black Alps standards. The Love/Hate era of the band was one in which Sam Forrest wanted to focus more on a melodic approach to his songwriting and performance, as opposed to the intense, straight-up hard rock found on predecessor Everything Is. It was a change that didn’t work so well, at least not to me, and Forrest has gone on to say that some songs on the album strayed from what he had envisioned. Had they taken those songs off and replaced them with the B-sides such as ‘Destination Nowhere’, ‘Daytime Habit’, ‘Heartstring’ and, obviously, ‘Strangest Feeling’, I think we all would have had a much stronger album on our hands. Always a shame when things don’t always work out the way we want them to.

#1292: Portishead – Strangers

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The very first Portishead song to appear at any point during this long, long process. I know, I know. You might be surprised. Or maybe not, I don’t want to assume. I’d had Dummy in my iTunes library since, I think, at least 2014. That year was one where music journalism websites were publishing articles about “albums turning 20”. Dummy, being released in 1994, came under that category. And just by reading around I knew it was meant to be a good one. So I downloaded it. But it sort of just laid to rest in my old laptop’s drive. It wasn’t until 2018 when I was doing my own listen through artist’s discographies on Spotify “challenge” at work that I properly revisited the album and came to truly appreciate it and get an overall sense of why the trip-hop pioneers were so well-respected. Simply put, the music is very, very good. And they’ve only had to make three albums to show this.

Dummy is the trio’s debut album. Where it all began. Critics at the time bowed down to it, the style of music presented had never been exhibited so exquisitely before. I must admit, it has been a while since I’ve listened through it. But writing this makes me want to. I have my favourite numbers on there. ‘Strangers’, the album’s third song, is one of ’em. My enjoyment for it immediately begins with the thumping groove and vibrating bass line. With some good speakers, the walls will start shaking. For the opening verse, the song switches to a floatier atmosphere – a slick guitar delivers these jazzy chords as Beth Gibbons, sounding like a ghostly presence, asks whether we can see the light where the morn meets the dew and if they can, whether they realize that no one else can experience it the same way as you do. After three trailing beeps, the banging groove kicks in again and Gibbons fully takes control. I’m deeply into this rhythm, and the few pauses and moments of rest that occur in the track make it all the more emphatic when the bass line kicks into gear straight after them.

I’ve sort of said all I needed to, I think. I’ve already stated what’s literally sung in the song, at least in the opening and closing verses, which I believe provide the overlying meaning of the whole track. That being we all may be able to see a beautiful sight, one like no other, one like we’ve never seen before, but each of us have a distinct experience of that view. Someone might appreciate it. Another might not. Whatever your own experience of it is, it’s yours and yours alone. Of course, it might not even be that literal either. That’s just what I get from it. I’m a fan of the rhythm and production, as I’ve said, but I thoroughly enjoy Beth Gibbon’s vocal too, honest and vulnerable with a lot of feeling. There’s a jazzy feel I get when she sings “Done it warning, done it now, and it ain’t real” hook. The melody sounds like a trumpet passage in some old recording. That’s a little aside on my part. Overall, probably one of the coolest tracks I have the pleasure of knowing.

#1291: The Kinks – Strangers

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And it looks like this will be the last track you’ll be seeing from this album too. A shame, really, ’cause I quite like The Kinks’ Lola Versus Powerman and the Moneygoround, Part One. My personal second favourite by the group. If things had been different, you would have at least seen a post for ‘Apeman’ and ‘Denmark Street’ on here. My old laptop contains the original date that I downloaded the record, but the monitor doesn’t turn on and I have to plug an HDMI cable from it to the TV in order to see what I’m doing. I have a good feeling it was sometime in 2015, ’cause I have a good memory of listening to ‘Powerman’ while walking to the place I was working at the time. I’ll get back to you on this matter. It doesn’t seem right to leave things vague like this.*

Among the songs discussing an infatuation to a cross-dresser, moving to the jungle to get out of the smoggy city centre, and generally being screwed over in the music business – all of which are written by main songwriter Ray Davies – are two other numbers written and sung by his little brother and lead guitarist, Dave. ‘Rats’ is a raucous number, I think about a general distrust in people. But it’s ‘Strangers’, the second song on Lola…, that we’re all here for. After the punchy, optimistic opener of ‘The Contenders’, ‘Strangers’ slows things down a peg or two. Adding layers of elements to the proceedings as time goes on – Davies plays acoustic alongside John Gosling’s piano initially which are then followed by drums on the second verse, and bass guitar and organ on the third – the song gains a hymn-like quality towards its end. Very appropriate with the whole unity theme that the song is going for.

It’s no secret that Ray and Dave Davies don’t get along all that well. And it’s been an long-standing, ongoing interpretation that ‘Strangers’ was about the relationship between the two. They might not get along, but at the end of the day, they are brothers. ‘Strangers’ was the sign that Dave at least cared. But really, the songs’s about a close friend of Dave’s who died of an overdose, and something of a list of the things Dave wished he could have done with them, had they not passed away so suddenly. It might not be the interpretation people want, but the sentiment is still oh-so sincere. Davies’s vocal performance here is a powerful one. When he blurts out a line like “All the things I own, I will share with you,” the way he does, just tugs at your heart strings a little. The organ and bass guitar introduced for the final verse add an emphatic sense of warmth to the production. And I like how the recording levels are raised for the pounding tom-tom pattern that closes the track out. It’s beautiful stuff. Seems right it’s the last Lola… song I cover on here.

*The folder containing the album says it was created on 8th July 2015, 15:55. So, there you go.

#1290: Madvillain – Strange Ways

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When writing about the previous Madvillain song beginning with the letter ‘S’ sometime last year, I made a point that I couldn’t quite recall how I felt when hearing it the first time among the other tracks when I was going through Madvillainy in 2013. Also for the first time. But I can’t say the same for ‘Strange Ways’. Out of the 22 tracks that make up that album, ‘Strange Ways’ was the one that my brain matter latched on to. Not so much due to MF DOOM’s signature internal rhyming scheme usage, but because of the sampled loop incorporated by Madlib. It’s common knowledge that the instrumental is taken from the song ‘Funny Ways’ by progressive rock band Gentle Giant. I didn’t know that back then. But the way those strings were rising and that “myy waays are strange” vocal kept on repeating over and over, alongside those added percussive thumps by Madlib, all came together… the song had the melodic hook, it had the beat. It was already a win.

The production was all well and good. It still is. And through repeated listens, I came to focus on DOOM’s words gradually. Now I could go to Genius, paraphrase whatever’s said there. I tend to not trust that place just ’cause it’s fan-run like any other place, except for those times when artists actually go on there and explain/give context on their lyrics. From what I can tell, ‘Strange Ways’ is a moment of social commentary on Madvillainy, firstly addressing the parallels in life between a drug dealer and a police officer in the opening verse and then providing an overall pitch on war and the pointlessness of it all. Unfair in how we’re chosen to fight while the rich people in the offices sit back and watch what happens. And anyone reading this may comment how there’s much, much more to the track than just that. And that might be the case. But you can go to Genius for that. Me, I’m just into how DOOM delivers his words over Madlib’s beat. And some classic lines in here too. “When the smoke clear, you can see the sky again/There will be the chopped off heads of Leviathan”, is a personal favourite.

The last 30 seconds of the track, as it is on the album anyway, are filled by an interlude taken from a ’50s animated short film in which a man finds out that a lady he’s into is seeing someone else. It leads perfectly into the following song on the album, and isn’t related to the lyrical ‘Strange Ways’ in any way. It’s good for the album flow, though, is the only reason I can think of it being tacked on for. That’s all I’ve got, gotta say. And with that, we’ve reached the end of the Madvillainy representatives in this series. No more DOOM either. A little more Madlib to come, however. I made a vow in about 2021 to stop adding songs onto my iTunes library so there could actually be an end to this thing. But I’ve got my Spotify ‘Liked Songs’ collections. There’s more DOOM on there. More DOOM that, had it been another time, I would have dedicated some time to. But I hope the writing I’ve done regarding his tracks are worth the read. The guy was too great at what he did, such a shame he’s no longer with us.

#1289: Pavement – Stop Breathin’

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After this track here, there’ll be only one more left to write about from Pavement’s Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, the band’s second album, released in 1994. Feels like I’ve been covering a lot of Stephen Malkmus-associated material in this section of this series lately, but I can’t complain. I’m a big, big admirer of the guy’s work. Regarding the tracks from Crooked Rain…, the first I shared my thoughts on was the “hit” single ‘Cut Your Hair’ in 2014. And a few other nunbers have popped up on here along the way. Just have to click on that ‘crooked rain crooked rain’ tag below to see them. Now we’re at the album’s third track, ‘Stop Breathin’. The chorus in this one got to me on that first listen, so much so that I remember singing it loudly on my out of my student flat and to a seminar in my first year of university. The whole track was an instant thumbs-up.

Following the one-two punch of ‘Silence Kit/d’ and ‘Elevate Me Later’, whose combination set an immediately catchy tone to the record’s opening moments, ‘Stop Breathin’ then arrives as the sobering, meditative, contemplative number to slow things down a peg. Set to a 6/8 waltz time with wonky-sounding arpeggiated chords created by an unusual guitar tuning, Malkmus depicts the scene of a tennis match and blends it with warlike imagery. At least that’s how it goes in the first verse. The second I’ve never been able to pin down quite as well. Overall, I’ve come to think the song is told from the point-of-view of this tennis player who’s really going through it on the court and wishes that the crowd stop breathing, as if that’ll help them perform any better. The narrator loses, left a broken mess, conceding to his father that the pressure was too much. Though I could also be completely wrong. That’s a sort of the surface level way to look at it. But it’s my way of understanding. It’s definitely a very alluring characteristic of the song, the fact that what it’s about isn’t so cut and dried.

The other notable detail is how the lyrical part of the track actually finishes two minutes into the duration, after which the song turns into an instrumental jam – directly influenced by ‘Sing Swan Song’ by seminal German experimental rock band Can. There’s an interview out there I swear I’ve read where Malkmus says this straight up, but I can’t find it after trying so hard to(o). I remember being determined to memorise the chord changes that occur during this breakdown, exactly when and where they happened. I think I watched a few live performances to get it down, and it felt great once I did. Was like an accomplishment. I think this jam is pretty much performed by Malkmus, bass guitarist Mark Ibold and Steve West on the drums. Genius gives a nice little description of what goes down in it. I do find it funny that it does sounds like Malkmus just sort of stops playing the guitar when the drums come in again in that final finish, disregarding any sense of timing, leaving Ibold to properly ramp things off with the bass.