#1156: Simon & Garfunkel – Save the Life of My Child

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A pre-Spotify/streaming service website used to exist back in the day. We7.com it was called. It allowed you to play a bunch of music in full, for free, without registration. And I came across it in early 2009, I think because Green Day’s 21st Century Breakdown had just been released and there it was, available to listen to, out in the open. The website doesn’t exist anymore, but when it did I got to hear a lot of the music I listen to now for the first time. And that’s where Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘Save the Life of My Child’ comes in. The track played on the site’s internet radio feature one day. Though I’m sure I would have heard ‘The Sound of Silence’ way before then, or ‘Bridge over Troubled Water’, I do believe it’s ‘Save…’ that was properly the first S&G track I’d fully paid attention with headphones at hand.

And the fat synthesizer that opens the song up is not what I was expecting on that initial hearing. I wonder how listeners back in 1968 would have felt too. It’s such a contrast compared to the usual acoustic numbers the duo did, and especially coming right after the light introduction that opens Bookends, the album on which ‘Save the Life…’ can be found. The track is one of the very first ever to utilise the Moog synthesizer, used predominantly for the bassline, and Paul Simon chugs away on the acoustic guitar while singing from the different perspectives of different people witnessing a boy sitting on the ledge of a high building, contemplating suicide. It’s a busy, busy scene. Passersby speculate, newspapers are rolling out with the story, the cops are called, and when one does arrive, they offer no considerable help in the slightest. Spotlights are put on the kid who, in that moment, decides to fall. That’s how the song ends.

I’ve always felt that the song is in some way providing a wider commentary than what’s being portrayed within. I wasn’t around in the ’60s, but from what I’ve gleaned by just reading around, things were much different in the America of 1968 than it was in ’67. The summer of love had long gone, and people wanted politicians to answer for poor decisions. Looking to musicians to provide some solidarity in their art. It was a general time of unrest. And that unrest is very much captured in the performance and general feel of ‘Save the Life…’. The song’s bridge includes an unsettling use of the duo’s aforementioned ‘Sound of Silence’ which, in context, I think symbolises a kind of momentary yearning for those young and innocent days before being abruptly brought back into reality, with the state of affairs of the then-current days being summed up in the final lines as the boy falls to the ground: “Oh, my grace, I got no hiding place.”

#1155: Lou Reed – Satellite of Love

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I have a big, big feeling that Lou Reed’s ‘Satellite of Love’ was a song that had an immediate impact on that first listen back in…. I want to say 2012. Was going through that ‘Best Ever Albums’ list on besteveralbums.com that I’ve sometimes talked about in other posts, and its parent album Transformer was on there at a decently ranked position. It’s got ‘Perfect Day’ on there. That’s a good one. ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ is a classic (though not one I go to, myself). But ‘Satellite of Love’ drew me in for sure. It begins with the piano, Lou Reed sings a succinct melody followed by that bass run and piano line. That’s all in the first 10 seconds. It’s catchy stuff, and it all carries on from there.

Influenced by the space race, the moon landing and lunar activities in the late ’60s, Reed wrote the track in 1970 when with The Velvet Underground and did a demo with the group during sessions for the band’s Loaded album. It didn’t make it on there. But two years later, with the aid of David Bowie and Mick Ronson, the track underwent changes to give it an air of wonder, flamboyance and slight campness and turned it into a glam rock number. There’s quite the all-star ensemble behind the performance with Reed singing and on guitar and Bowie on backing vocals, Ronson on piano and recorder, Beatles mate Klaus Voorman on the bass guitar and John Halsey AKA Barry Wom of The Rutles on drums. They all very much kill it in each of their respective positions.

As much as I do enjoy the main core of the song, particularly the contrast between Reed’s dry vocal with those bright “bom-bom-bom”‘s during the choruses, a huge part of my appreciation for the whole track goes towards its ending. With about a minute and 10 seconds left, the track builds layer and layer, starting with Ronson’s piano, followed by Reed and the sassy backing vocals by the vocal group Thunderthighs. And then to cap it all off, David Bowie comes in with a piercing falsetto to leave the track fading out on this massive bed of harmonies and countermelodies. It’s a shame that Bowie and Reed didn’t collaborate more after this and Transformer. Think I remember that they a falling out of some kind? They strike me as two people who would want to do their own respective things anyway. They performed live with one another in the end, so whatever beef they had was clearly squashed.

#1154: They Might Be Giants – Santa’s Beard

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Ah, the first They Might Be Giants song to appear in the ‘S’ section. An appearance by the group was bound to happen at some point. They’ve occurred in almost every other letter. One of my favourite bands. Appreciated their music for a long time. It’s a story I’ve told in nearly all the other TMBG posts that have come before, so to not sound like a broken record those previous two sentences make up the summary. The band’s album Lincoln, their second, released in 1988, is one I got to know fairly well once hearing it in full for the first time in late 2010 or so. It contains a few of John Linnell and John Flansburgh’s highly adored compositions. You get ‘Ana Ng’. You get ‘Cowtown’. It also contains ‘Santa’s Beard’, which I’m not sure is as rated among TMBG fans. But I like it. So here it is.

What the track is, is essentially a twisted take on that old song ‘I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus’. Replace ‘Mommy’ with ‘My Wife’ and you’ve got the message. I feel the lyrical content is the main reason why the song is currently ranked #737 out of 1010 on TMBG’s fanmade Wikipedia site. I guess you can never really be in the right frame of mind to hear a song about a man being cuckolded by jolly old Saint Nick. But it’s just a song and obviously nothing to take very seriously. It’s a harmless bit of fun, a sub 2-minute power pop tune with rollicking guitars, spindly keyboards and a synthetic slap-bass that makes its presence felt within the mix all throughout.

Well, I guess all that’s left to talk about is John Flansburgh’s vocal. He does sing this one really well, got that gritty rocker feel to his delivery. He could really get some power on those notes in those earlier years, and ‘Santa’s Beard’ is a good showcase of it. Especially on those ‘breaking up my hooooome’ lines in the choruses, and particularly at the end where he holds that ‘home’ out for longer, with the word transforming into a growling tone that disappears in the exploding final chord. Or penultimate chord that’s then followed up by the final beat that properly closes the song out. Yep, yep. It’s some good listening. Maybe not so substantial in the running of the album, depending on who you ask. But it’s a guaranteed good time whenever this one comes on.

#1153: Jamie T – Salvador

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You know what? I think ‘Salvador’ was the first song I ever heard by Jamie T. Just like many of the other songs I’ve written about through the years, its music video popped up one day on MTV2. Couldn’t tell you what the context was. Most likely it came under the ‘Brand New Spanking Music’ slot that would usually occur on the channel. Jamie T only appears in the video for the song’s intro, after which he’s replaced by this dramatic little kid who truly hams up his performance while lip-syncing. It’s an act that I found very cringy when I was younger. But looking at it now, you can’t lie, the kid’s got spirit. There also appears to be an alternative version of the video where Jamie T appears a couple more times, but that’s not the one I remember airing all those years ago.

If this was the first song/video of Jamie T’s that I ever saw, then I guess it must have been released as a single. According to the official UK singles website, the song didn’t chart. But he soon released ‘Sheila’ afterwards and things really started looking up. ‘Salvador’ was eventually released again, appearing as the second track on Jamie T’s debut Panic Prevention album – properly getting the momentum of the record going after the acoustic bass introduction of ‘Brand New Bass Guitar’. As its says on Wikipedia, most of the songs deal with aspects of modern youth culture in the UK. And with Salvador, the aspect of nights out on the dancefloor, particularly from the point of view of us desperate men looking for a fine lady to get close to, is the main focus here.

Sometimes, when this song appears out of the blue on my phone when I’ve got it on shuffle, I actually tempted to skip it. Jamie T’s howling vocal alongside the copied/pasted guitar chord that twangs out might not be the utmost pleasing sound to hear if you’re hearing it the first time. But it all changes when that two-note bass pattern comes in and the groove gets going. Can’t help but move my head to it, it gets me under its web. The same will probably happen to you too. The vocal take, words punctuated here and there by Jamie’s unapologetically British delivery, is one that I can’t help but exaggerate when I ‘sing’ along to it. Even being from the UK myself, I can’t match that singing style. And there are other little audio oddities within the track that may prick up your ears. But I’ll leave those for you to hear. And that’s that for Jamie T on the blog. But you can see any previous posts through the ‘Artist Archive’ link above.

#1152: Mac DeMarco – Salad Days

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Mac DeMarco’s Salad Days turned 10 this year. Back when music release dates were on Mondays (or Tuesdays in the US), it was released on March 31st or April Fools’ Day 2014 depending on where you lived. I was in my first year of uni, checking out Pitchfork on my old laptop. The album got the Best New Music mark. I listened. My following of the dude started right there. I was hooked. So much so that I even dedicated a post to it on here. Check out the writing of the 19-year-old I was. Had so much to learn. Now I’m six years older than DeMarco was when the album originally came out, and I find myself relating more and more to the lyrics as the time passes.

Although my previously linked article of my initial impressions of the album may be underwritten and not so substantial, the points I make on there still hold up. The album is indeed ‘sweet’, the eleven tracks on there are ‘enjoyable’ and I still really like the guitar tone on there to this day. The record is most definitely my favourite of DeMarco’s. The melodies are on point. Each tracks flows by like a breeze. And the whole package begins with its title track, a good old existential crisis indie song in which Mac sings about potentially having passed his peak in life but also telling himself to get over it and try again for another year like all the rest of us have to. Quite a melancholy way to start things off. But it’s real, it’s a universal feeling and the deliver of it makes it easy to digest. A very fine combination.

Seems appropriate that this song will be the last representative of the album in this whole series. Finishing off where my Mac DeMarco discovery began and all that. There are still more songs of his to come though, so stay tuned if you’re really looking forward to them. I would have written about a couple other tracks from Salad Days had the stars aligned. ‘Blue Boy’ was an instant favourite on the first listen. ‘Brother’ took some time, but I eventually got ’round to it. I noted ‘Chamber of Reflection’ as a highlight in that old, old post, but I sort of fell out with it quite quickly actually. Think I just found it to be a drag. That’s just me. But all in all, this album means a lot to me, no doubts there.