#1216: R.E.M. – Sitting Still

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Time for another song from R.E.M.’s Murmur. It feels like I only ever write about tracks from that album on here. I swear, I do like a lot of other material by the band. Most of these numbers will be covered in posts that have yet to be written, and a lot of them I couldn’t write about because I only properly got into the band just over six years ago. And this blog is twice as old. But that “getting into” all began with a listen of Murmur, after which I found myself having a new favourite album on my hands.

‘Sitting Still’ is the eighth song on there. The song was released as the B-side on the ‘Radio Free Europe’ single, two years before Murmur was released. The version on Murmur is the same recording as that B-side, bar a few changes such as slowing the tape down, re-recording some backing vocals and Mike Mills laying down a new bass line for the track. The overall mix sounds a lot fuller too. I’ll go ahead and embed that original version below. In its place on the album, ‘Sitting Still’ carries on a theme already established by the time you get to it on the album: Michael Stipe sings but no one knows what he’s saying or what it truly means. But it sounds good nevertheless.

As the lyrics don’t really mean anything, and Michael Stipe can attest to that, there’s not much more I could say on that front. He utilises a great melody though. Simple but very effective. On the structural side of things, I appreciate how the song kind of rolls and unfurls again and again. The verse goes into the pre-chorus, which goes into the second verse before going into the pre-chorus and then into the “I can hear you” chorus before going into the third verse and so on and so forth. Mike Mills’s bass is quite addictive to hum along to, Peter Buck’s arpeggios scratch an itch, Bill Berry lays a tight beat underneath it all. Sometimes I think it must feel repetitive to some, I guess that’d be understandable. But to me it always feels good to hear this one when it comes on.

#1215: Noisettes – Sister Rosetta (Capture the Spirit)

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Another Noisettes song beginning with ‘S’. Not so far after the last one too. Funny how it goes sometimes. You won’t write about a song by a band/artist for a long while, and then before you know it you’re writing about two in almost quick succession. The last one was ‘Scratch Your Name’, a fine, fine song, I’d advise you to listen and maybe read what I have to say about it. But now it’s time for ‘Sister Rosetta’ to shine. Like ‘Scratch Your Name’, ‘Sister Rosetta’ was another track from the band’s debut album to be chosen as a single. It got its own music video, which I’m sure I would have seen on the TV at some moment in time. I can’t remember watching it as much as the singles that came before. But when I did catch the video on those brief occasions, it was always a good time.

The track is an homage to American singer-songwriter Sister Rosetta Tharpe, who pretty much invented rock and roll. I wish my grandma was as cool as this. But more thoroughly, the lyrics explore the personality of a lady who frequently partakes in nights out in London with the song’s narrator. The narrator describes the good times they have together, making note of the synergy between the two characters, complementing each other “like Satan and Christ”, and I think the chorus sees the narrator wanting something more to happen in this relationship. What it is isn’t explicitly stated, but a capturing of the spirit must occur in order for the narrator’s questions to be answered. The verses are carried by an old-timey rock ‘n’ roll feel, suitably reflected by the swing dancing choreography in the video, before transitioning into the blistering punky choruses. They close out the song, just when things start to feel a little out of control, with singer Shingai Shoniwa bringing proceedings to a halt with a sudden shriek.

If you listen closely to the song via the video, you’ll hear that the rumbling noise at the song’s end sort of cuts out quite abruptly. That’s because, on What’s the Time Mr. Wolf?, the audio carries through right into the following track ‘Bridge to Canada’ – the first Noisettes song I wrote about on here so many years ago. Seeing as this is the last Noisettes song I’ll be writing about on here, it feels good to somehow tie them all together. Some people reading this may recognise ‘Sister Rosetta’ as a song that was featured in a Twilight film. It seems the track was re-recorded for its inclusion, and I have to say…. I don’t like it all that much. Sounds so much tamer in comparison to the original. But, you know, that’s just my opinion. Hear it out for yourself.

#1214: Taking Back Sunday – Sink into Me

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After releasing Louder Now back in 2006 and going through the whole touring and promoting singles process, Taking Back Sunday took an extended break. During it, guitarist Fred Mascherino departed the band on not such great terms. A shame because, at least to me, he was the guy who always gave the great backing vocals and provided the lead guitar in all the Louder Now songs I liked. Whatever the band were to come back with would obviously never be the same. That was all in 2007. Wikipedia says that they announced new guitarist Matthew Fazzi in 2008. It’s not something I can remember myself, but I’ll take its word. But new music by the band wouldn’t arrive until a year later, when the new lineup was marked with the arrival of the new single ‘Sink into Me’.

The video played on MTV2 a lot of the time from what I can recall. It was very clear that this Taking Back Sunday was going to be much different from that of the last album cycle. Compared to the likes of ‘MakeDamnSure’ or ‘Liar (It Takes One to Know One)’, ‘Sink into Me’ went for a sort of rawer feel. Almost sounded like something of a punk song. Almost. And the 14-year-old I was at the time was all for this new direction. The guitarist may have changed, but Adam Lazzara’s voice hadn’t changed all that much. And though the prominent backing vocals once covered by Mascherino weren’t there anymore, the constant “hey heys” in this track can’t compare, the loss was more than made up for by the general energy and thrill the music provided. I feel like it must have been a sign for big, big Taking Back Sunday fans that things were gonna be just fine.

In my case though, I never heard another Taking Back Sunday song from this period of the band. I don’t think there was a video made for another track from New Again. If there was, it definitely didn’t play on the TV over here in the UK. So everything about the album sort of came and went. ‘Sink into Me’ always stuck with me though, so that’s why I’m here today to talk about it. Never thought about what it could be about before. If I were to guess… maybe some sadomasochism thing going on. There are usually some sexual undertones in Lazzara’s lyrics, I don’t think it’d be wrong to say it’s the same here. Just a shame that this lineup of the band didn’t stick around for a longer time. Not even a year had passed and Fazzi was let go by the band along with their bass guitarist. Or they both stated they were leaving. Since then, haven’t listened to any new Taking Back Sunday at all really. But I hope they’re all doing well.

#1213: Tom Waits – Singapore

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This here’s another of those songs with the backstory like those that I’ve written about in the past where I was properly getting into the practice of actively listening through albums from front to back and finding what was considered to be the best ones via this website called Best Ever Albums.com This was in, I’d say 2012/2013. There’s an actual “Best Ever Album” list on there. Tom Waits’s Rain Dogs was quite deep in, maybe in the 100s or something at the time, and before I found it I’d no clue that a Tom Waits existed or that he was making albums. So my first listen through Rain Dogs was very much a blind one.

‘Singapore’ is the first track on the album. To say it’s not the usual standard rock number is an understatement. Instead of the usual guitar, bass guitar and drums outfit, this was a song with a double bass, trombone, I’ll assume a wooden xylophone, and a guitar playing the most dissonant of lines. And then came in Waits’s vocal, a hushed delivery that varied from a spiky, biting tone to a deeper one that resembled the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. With all that being said, I think I was instantly hooked once its “oompah” rhythm properly got underway. All of the elements together make for a very, very fun listen. The song reminds me of one of those types you’d hear those old ’30s-ish spooky cartoons where skeletons come out of their graves and start dancing around to the beat of whatever’s playing at the time. If only I had a specific example, but I think you may know what I mean.

Wikipedia labels Rain Dogs as “a loose concept album about ‘the urban dispossessed’ of New York City”, and it’s my view that ‘Singapore’ is the track that ‘welcomes’ the listener into this setting, introducing us to the unusual characters that dwell within. Waits and these strange people are heading off to Singapore, and he goes about listing the things can and can’t do on the journey as well as the things he’s done on his past travels. I stumbled upon a comment that said it was like ‘gothic vaudeville’, which I never could that thought of but is incredibly apt. And there’s more that where it came from as Rain Dogs goes on. Had things been different, there would have been posts for ‘Clap Hands‘ and ‘Cemetery Polka’ on here too. As it stands though, this’ll be the only Tom Waits entry that’ll ever be on here. Solid representative though.

#1212: Bob Dylan – Simple Twist of Fate

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Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks is the one album of his that has stuck with me for the longest time. I’ve heard a bunch of other Dylan LPs and like a bunch of the songs from them. But front to back, it’s always been Blood… for me. I remember it fully clicking when I was back in university. Second year, for me 2014/15, and it was during that time that the album had been out and about for 40 years – gonna be 50 in a few weeks – and I was a nerd about album anniversaries and that kind of thing. So I was alone in my room, listened through it for what was the second time in my life, and there it was. Was like hearing it in a new light. Alone in a room is the ideal setting for listening to it. And I could add it to the collection of sad albums in my mental space that I seemed to resonate with a lot.

‘Simple Twist of Fate’ is the second song on there. Opener ‘Tangled Up in Blue’ gets things off to a lively start. You wouldn’t be wrong to assume that at least the next one would carry on in the same manner. It does not. Instead, ‘Simple Twist…’ arrives as the solemn, reflective follow-up – still with a bit of a swing to it – with six verses detailing a gradual breakup between two people, seemingly unrelated to Dylan as he sings about them in third person, until he takes it into the first for the final verse where you realise he was singing about his own situation the whole time. Each verse depicts a different stage in the relationship captured. So evocative with the language Dylan incorporates, I think it would be difficult for any listener to be unable to picture their own scenes of what’s happening in their heads. And the simple twist of fate of the title is the one thing that weaves all of these stages together.

The chord progression throughout the song remains the same throughout its duration, so while Dylan’s acoustic guitar stays true to it, the bass guitar played by session musician Tony Brown is allowed to skip a few octaves and play around on the scales. Dylan’s vocal take is notable too, in that for the first few lines of each verse, he delivers his words very simply – there’s maybe a two note melody he utilises when doing so – before suddenly singing phrases that end with a howling wail for their penultimate lines and mentioning the song title in the final ones. Think those wails are meant to symbolize something. A kind of pain or yearning, I’d guess? The singing style is actually very similar to how he approaches the track that comes after ‘Simple Twist…’ on the album. That’s for another day. I imagine this track could be quite the brutal listen, especially if you’re feeling lovelorn or recovering from a past relationship. But then again, it’s good to hear a piece of music that somehow manages to put into words the things you couldn’t. Makes you feel you’re not so alone.