#1011: Talking Heads – Paper

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Hmmm… ‘Paper’. What can you say about Talking Heads’ ‘Paper’, the third track of Fear of Music, released in 1979? Well, you could argue that it’s one of the least talked about Talking Heads songs out there. I’ve given my take on a couple songs from that record in the past. I may have even mentioned in one of them that I consider Fear of Music to be my favourite Talking Heads album. Mainly because of the paranoia and David Byrne’s vocals. Now, why ‘Paper’ may be a Talking Heads song that flies under the radar, particularly in the context of Fear of Music, is that it’s somehow played remarkably straight. Sandwiched in between ‘Mind’ and ‘Cities’, ‘Paper’ sounds like a walk in the park. A walk in the park as David Byrne in 1979 probably wouldn’t be the same as the average person’s, though.

After ‘Mind’ establishes the something’s-not-quite-right theme that connects the whole album, with its odd guitar riffs and Byrne’s manic vocal delivery, ‘Paper’ reigns things in a little. The instrumental is more of your typical rock-band performance, though there may be some tape-echo/double-track production effect laid on to the scrambling guitar chords that arrive in the introduction and choruses. I’m not a producer, someone out there correct me if that’s wrong. Although you’re led to assume that the song may be a narrator’s fear/obsession with paper, the ‘paper’ in question is this huge metaphor about love affairs and short term/long term relationships. This is something I never would have even thought about, because I’m usually bumping my head to the busy, propelling performance by the four bandmembers. But yes, when Byrne’s telling us to hold onto the paper, or hold the paper up to the light, he’s really telling a listener to hold onto the relationship they have or take a moment to reflect on said relationship and really examine the truth behind it. Layers, people, layers.

Overall, I think ‘Paper’ is just fine. I can just about recall hearing Fear of Music for the first time back in about 2015 and remember the track jumping out at me straight away with those opening chords. The whole album was an immediate add to my home laptop. The track keeps those opening moments of the record flowing nicely, and is probably the last time on there that David Byrne sounds somewhat normal before becoming more and more unhinged as each track comes along. Should more people talk about it? I mean, it would be nice. But it’s always those ones that people don’t know so much that’ll surprise them.

#1010: The Smiths – Panic

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Some of you reading may be perplexed to find that this is the very first Smiths song I’ve covered in this long-running list. You may be even further confused when I tell you it’ll be the only I write about too. Just not into them at all, really. I’ve tried to make it an aim to go through all their albums. I have listened to The Queen Is Dead about twice. That’s argued to be their best one, right? But that didn’t do much for me. I just don’t like Morrissey’s vocals and his delivery all that much. They just don’t sit right with me for a reason I haven’t been able to pin down. But, and this is just personal preference, ‘Panic’ seems to be the group’s only track where they don’t irk me as much.

‘Panic’ was one of the first pieces the Smiths worked on after the release of The Queen Is Dead and was further promoted as a standalone single in 1986. Many may know it as the opener on the B-side compilation, The World Won’t Listen, that followed a year later. I’d say the track is split into two distinct sections, the first being the verses that cover the overriding panic in various cities and towns in the UK and the second being the rallying calls to violently rage against the discos and DJs who were promoting terrible pop music and putting a mask over the real-life events that were actually happening in the world. The track was written whilst the Chernobyl incident was going on, so you could probably see where Morrissey’s disdain was coming from.

Another ‘fun’ fact about ‘Panic’ is that it was the first track of the band’s to feature new guitarist Craig Gannon, marking the beginning to their short-lived period as a five-piece. I think it’s mainly Johnny Marr’s guitar you hear providing those sliding chords throughout. But you certainly hear the dual-guitar aspect during the explosive introduction. Morrissey melodically sighs his way through the track, which I’m sure he does in may other Smiths songs. But like I said earlier, it works a lot more here for me than it does in other places. And you’ve gotta give it up for the kids who join in on the ‘hang the DJ’ vocals during the outro. They sound like they’re having a lot of fun singing that aggressive line. But that’s kids for you.

#1009: Ween – Pandy Fackler

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Ween’s White Pepper, released in 2000, is a bit of an odd one in the band’s discography, in that it’s the least odd-sounding out of all the albums Ween laid out on tape. Really, it’s the most streamlined, glossed-out, bordering on stadium-rock record, with hooks abound and a huge accessibility. What brought about that change in direction for that particular time is anyone’s guess. Mine is that there are a few reasons. Firstly being that it was the first where the band truly performed as the five-piece that had been on the road for years at that point. Gene Ween had had his first child a couple years prior and may have been understandably happy as a result during the times of recording. And as he and Dean Ween were approaching 30, maybe they really wanted to make that classic rock record for the masses. Just a few takes on my part, though.

‘Pandy Fackler’ is the ninth track on the album. Not a massive favourite among the general public. It’s got the last second-last amount of listens on Spotify, after instrumental ‘Ice Castles‘, and I’m sure I saw a video where Gener pretty much left the stage so keyboardist Glenn McClelland could carry out an extended solo during the instrumental break. So I think there’s a bit of a ‘toilet/bathroom break’ status about it at live shows. But I think it’s smooth as butter. Fans will know how great it is too. The band introduced it as their ‘Steely Dan song’ in one of its first live performances. Though it does have a ‘Reelin’ in the Years‘ rhythm about it, I think it’s more a reference to the precision, tightness and execution of the band’s performance on it. Steely Dan are known for that type of stuff.

Everything you need to know in order to understand what the track’s about is in its lyrics. Pandy Fackler’s a bit of a strange girl from an ‘ideal’ middle-American family who likes to have a good time in her own way. Here, the narrator sings of their admiration for here, reminiscing on the night they got together in a moment of passion. And after that comes the lengthy keyboard solo carried out by McClelland. It’s a nice jam. Dean Ween’s guitar runs are top-notch. McClelland knows his way around the keys. Rhythm section of Claude Coleman on drums and Dave Dreiwitz on bass hold everything together. And contrary to what I thought all these years, I think it’s a rare occasion on which Deaner does the lead vocals, which is always welcome.

#1008: Radiohead – Palo Alto

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Well, would you look at that. It’s Radiohead, again. But for anyone out there who still couldn’t get their heads around why the band decided to make that drastic change in sound 23 years ago, today’s track should take you back to what I suppose you would label as the better times. ‘Palo Alto’ was initially released as a B-side on the ‘No Surprises’ single in the first few weeks of 1998. Sandwiched between the title track and fellow B-side ‘How I Made My Millions’, ‘Palo Alto’ works as the energetic pick-me-up to lighten the mood somewhat between the two sobering numbers. Though if you weren’t around at that time or simply too young to understand what was even going on, you’ll recognise it as being one of the numbers on the second disc of the OK Computer OKNOTOK reissue from 2017.

I came across it many years back through watching the Meeting People Is Easy documentary on YouTube. If you want to see a group of people feeling tired, irritable and jaded while promoting an album, that video is the one for you. There’s a section in there that showing Thom Yorke working on and generally vibing to ‘Palo Alto’ on a tour bus, but the full track plays over a montage of sped-up/reversed/slowed down footage of people on escalators and the band walking through Japan. It looks much better than how I’ve described, so I’d recommend you watch it. I’ll go ahead and embed that below, it’s the closest to an official music video you can get for it.

So as I alluded to earlier, this is the fat rocking number on the ‘No Surprises’ single to make the alleviate the sombre mood of the two other tracks. All’s quiet during the verses where Thom Yorke disconnectedly sings about living in the ‘city of the future’ where ‘everybody’s happy/made for life’, but then you get smacked in the face by a slamming wall of blasting guitars for the choruses. It’s a big freak out/cathartic moment for any of those people who have to get those twitchy moments out of their system. The track continues the ‘technology isn’t all it’s cracked up to be’ and personal detachment themes that OK Computer is known for and was actually lined up to be the album’s title track for a while until it underwent the name change. Unlike the tracks that made it on the final record, ‘Palo…’ is a little more on-the-nose with the subject, which is probably the only reason I could think of why it didn’t make it on there. But anyhow, it carries on the large legacy of great B-sides that Radiohead possess in their discography.

#1007: Radiohead – Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box

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It’s P time. Everytime I start a new section of this, I’m always weary of the amount of typing that I’ve gotta go through. But it has to be done. I’ve had this voice in my head telling me to have this done by the time I’m 30. That gives me just over two years. Maybe that’s pushing it. There’s still so many songs to go. But it’s worth a try. So let’s get restarted.

‘Packt Like Sardines in a Crushd Tin Box’ is the opening track on Radiohead’s 2001 Amnesiac album, the second in the group’s iconic – for lack of a better word – left-turn experimental phase after Kid A preceded it a few months before. I want to say that it acted as a bit of a message on part of the band that if people who thought Kid A was strange, then they had no idea. No better way to start of an album with looping metallic chimes and electronic bleep-bloops to keep rock fans on their side. As I’ve come to know it though, that wait for some sort of melody or settled rhythm to kick in is well worth it once those (keys? synths?) come in at 36 seconds.

I’ll always remember where I was when I ‘listened’ to Amnesiac for the first time. ‘Listened’ being in quotation marks because I was asleep for the majority of it. It was a tiring day after A-Level preparation in year 13 days, I think I may have been feeling down at that point too, and Spotify had this free trial offer going on. Though I more or less missed the middle part of the record, I remember still being sort of awake during ‘Packt…’ and digging Thom Yorke’s pitch-corrected vocals and the overall glitchy vibe of the entire thing. Then my consciousness faded away gradually, but then suddenly perked up when ‘Life in a Glasshouse’ started. As a result, those two tracks were the ones from the album that I considered its highlights for some time. I’ve come to appreciate a couple more songs from it, but the record isn’t up there in my personal Radiohead album ranking, to be frank. Doesn’t have that good a flow, I feel.

But, ah, the song. What is ‘Packt…’ about? Well, if you’ve been a longtime reader here, you may have come across a few posts where I’ve flat out stated that I’m not much of a lyrics guy. Even when it comes to writing these, I usually see what other people have said and see whether I agree with it or not. In rare cases, there are some tracks where I’ve felt I got the meaning down, which makes sense to me. This isn’t one of those times. Knowing that during the making of Kid A/Amnesiac, Thom Yorke utilised a method of cutting up lyrics and randomly linking them together, there’s a good chance that there isn’t a truly deep meaning to pick up from these sets of lyrics at all. They do sound great together, though, which to me is really all that matters. Oh, actually the main message is Thom Yorke wants some peace – leave him alone. There we go.