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#1434: The Byrds – Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season)

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Went back to the Vista computer sitting in the corner of the living room to get to the source for this track. According to the file’s properties, I downloaded The Byrds’ ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ at 12:30 in the morning, on Sunday 1st of May 2011. Just a few minutes after doing the same for their cover of ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’. It was a wild period of my life that I was behind a desktop on a Saturday night downloading music. Really, I was in the lead-up to my actual GCSE exams and going out wasn’t an option. Around that time, both songs had appeared on a radio service provided by the website we7.com, which I’ve referred to on a few occasions. I liked the two of ’em straight off the bat. When it came to ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’, I got that all-to-familiar feeling that I’d heard the song somewhere before. It’s in Forrest Gump, which I’m sure I’d seen by that point, but it was like my knowledge of the tune went much further back. This is something I’ll come back to at the end of this post.

Just over two months after completing their first album in April 1965, The Byrds were back in the studio to start work on what would become their second. Only made sense. They’d virtually created the folk rock genre, and their take on ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’ had taken the world by storm. It was time to capitalise. During the sessions for this new album, they recorded an adaptation of ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ by Pete Seeger, which itself was heavily reliant on the book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible. The Byrds did their thing. Applied the three-way harmonies of Roger McGuinn, David Crosby and Gene Clark. Utlilised the chiming 12-string guitars. Unlike ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’ where McGuinn was the only Byrd playing his instrument alongside the world-class Wrecking Crew session musicians, all five Byrds were present, correct and performing on ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ this time ’round. They completed the song. It was released as the first single from their forthcoming album, also entitled Turn! Turn! Turn!. While maybe not as much as the worldwide smash ‘Tambourine’ was, the people of America got it to number one in their country and the folk rock train of 1965 kept rolling.

I mean, I think it’s a bit of a classic, right? The Byrds would evolve in terms of the music they’d make as the ’60s went on. But in terms of establishing that folk rock sound, ‘Tambourine Man’ and ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ solidly set the template and influenced anything like it that followed. I already mentioned them in the previous paragraph, but it’s all about the vocal melodies and the jangly guitars. The combination of those result in some good aural bliss. But I also like how the song picks up in rhythm as its outro sets in and Michael Clarke becomes a little bit more busier on the drums, pulling off some fills and triplet patterns in the process. One thing I would wish for is that The Byrds did a whole Beatles discography remix thing, though. Instruments in the right ear and just vocals in the left… It’s not a stereo mix for today’s society. Oh, and, uh, years after getting to know ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ proper in 2011, I found myself watching that Simpsons episode where Bart and Lisa become newsreaders for a children’s programme. In it, Bart seeks inspiration from Kent Brockman. Brockman assists. ‘Turn! Turn! Turn!’ showed up, and that unlocked a memory of sitting in front of the small TV in my grandma’s room when I was maybe eight, watching the same episode while trying not to wake her up. So there you go.

#1363: Arctic Monkeys – This House Is a Circus

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I knew this one was coming, but I think I covered the bases concerning how I feel about Favourite Worst Nightmare in the last song I wrote about from the album. But without referring to it, I think I said it was my favourite – no pun meant – Arctic Monkeys record and that they sounded their coolest on it. I feel I’m pretty close with that guess. This’ll be the last track from there I’ll be writing about. If you look in the archives, you’ll see I’ve covered ten of its songs overall – this one included. But I’ll say now, three of them I haven’t listened to in years ’cause they don’t hit in the same way they once did. That goes for ‘505’ too, which some may not be very happy about. It’s just how I feel. And I was never the biggest fan of ‘Fluorescent Adolescent’, hence its absence. That’s near half the album that I don’t like so, so much. But it’s still my favourite of the band’s. You don’t see many other Arctic Monkeys songs from their other albums on here, do you? So there you go.

‘This House Is a Circus’ is the eighth song on …Worst Nightmare. To be quite honest, the thing that first wowed me about it – when I was 12 and the album was very much fresh off the shelf – was how its ending transitioned into ‘If You Were There, Beware’ with that sort of siren sound. The effect is messed up on streaming, there’s a second of silence for whatever reason between the two songs, which is why you should get a physical copy. I preferred ‘If You Were There…’ to ‘This House…’ for a long while, even though I enjoyed both. But somewhere along the way, ‘This House…’ crept up as one of my highlights from the album while ‘…Beware’ kind of got left behind. From the jump, the tempo’s set, and it never really lets up apart from a guitar break before its ending section. I think the key element of the track is the bass line provided by Nick O’Malley, he plays a lot of hummable runs throughout and they arrive in the forefront of the mix at various points. But Matt Helders plays his ass off on the drums too, to the point where I’m so sure he drops his sticks at about 1:44, but manages to strike some cymbals before swiftly keeping the rhythm going not too long after. It’s a song that shows the band firing on all cylinders. Definitely the heaviest thing they done at that point of their career.

I did use to think it was a song about the house on the album’s cover. If you get the album, the images in the booklet show the inside of the house covered in this psychedelic, sort of circus-y themed imagery. But I think it’s clearly about a general house party where anything goes. The drugs are around, people are getting off with each other, debauchery, debauchery, debauchery. The narrator sees all this going on and can tell this house isn’t a place to be in for too long, but his friends seem to be having a good time, even if whatever’s happening around them looks more like something you’d see in a movie rather than real life. Alex Turner rhymes ‘circus’ with ‘berserk as’ in the first line. I definitely thought he was made up a word in order to achieve the rhyme, singing “This house is a circus, berserkus, fuck.” It’s that Northern dialect that fooled me. That’s a personal aside. It’s songs like this that make me miss how Arctic Monkeys used to be. The latest loungey, orchestral rock route they’ve been going for relatively lately never won me over. I feel it’s unlikely they’d go back to this sort of music again. It’s just how these things go sometimes. But it’s not like this song’s gonna disappear from existence or something. So, Arctic Monkeys, do what you like, I’ll still have Favourite Worst Nightmare on my rotation.

#1357: They Might Be Giants – They’ll Need a Crane

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‘They’ll Need a Crane’. A TMBG classic right here. It’s another track of theirs I came to know through Launch.com. Whenever it played on the radio, it was always listed as being on the band’s Dial-A-Song: 20 Years of They Might Be Giants compilation rather than the studio album it originated from. Same went for ‘Ana Ng’, ‘Cowtown’, and ‘Purple Toupee’ on the one occasion I think it played on there. Cue to many Christmases and birthdays when I asked for that compilation but never got it. I think it was a rare one to get over here in the UK. But unlike ‘They Might Be Giants’ where I heard the song once and didn’t hear it again until years later, ‘They’ll Need a Crane’ also had its music video – featuring two young Johns and a band of distinguished old fellas playing and rowing boats in Battery Park, New York City – available to view on the site’s video service. So, if the 2004 broadband connection was good, I could watch that whenever I wanted.

‘…Crane’ is on the band’s second album, Lincoln, the 14th track on there, and another by the band to tackle what you can consider to be an emotionally heavy subject – a tragic breakup – with catchy, upbeat music. Linnell sings about the situation of “Lad” and “Gal”. The two are together, but there’s a sadness lingering in the relationship that takes a toll. Gal sometimes says things to Lad that hurts Lad’s feelings. An argument is depicted in the song’s minor-key bridge where Gal walks away from Lad in frustration after the latter suggests to go to a restaurant where “the other nightmare people like to go”. And by the final verse, they’ve gone their separate ways with Lad looking at other women and Gal drowning her sorrows with Jim Beam whiskey. The whole situation’s likened to the destruction and gradual reconstruction of a building, both aided by the metaphorical crane that’s referred to in the song’s title.

‘They’ll Need a Crane’ has one of those melodies you feel you must have heard before somewhere. When I first heard the song way, way back, I thought it was one I knew like the back of my finger. I would have been eight, but I think I had a grasp of what a good song sounded like at that somewhat negligible age. The tune’s from 1988, but it’s like it should have been around for much longer. Gotta thank John Linnell once again for this one. And John Flansburgh too, because why not. Only makes sense that the song was released as a single during the band’s Lincoln era in February 1989, four days before Valentine’s Day, funnily enough. I don’t think that’s coincidental. The band played the track for their network television debut on Late Night with David Letterman around the same time. But I’m gonna embed a 2011 performance of it just for comparison’s sake with the music video at the top.

#1347: James Dean Bradfield – That’s No Way to Tell a Lie

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After finishing what was to be their last tour for a couple years in 2005, the members of Manic Street Preachers took a little break from each other. During that time, drummer Sean Moore… well, no one really knows, but I’m sure he had a good one. Bass guitarist and lyricist Nicky Wire went and recorded a solo album, released in 2006, called I Killed the Zeitgeist. And in the same year came The Great Western, James Dean Bradfield’s first solo project. Bradfield, as many may know, is the lead singer of the Manics, taking great pride in writing the music of the band’s songs alongside Moore. It wasn’t until 2001 that fans got a completely penned Bradfield song, covering music and lyrics, in the form of ‘Ocean Spray’. So how would a whole album of Bradfield-written tracks turn out? I can’t say myself, I’ve never listened to the whole thing. But the one track I know from there, the album’s opener and selected first single, I’ve enjoyed for a very long time. I guess almost 20 years now, ain’t that something?

I saw the video for ‘That’s No Way to Tell a Lie’ once on TV, and it feels like it was never played again. It most likely was. But if that’s the case, I didn’t see it. The video showed up, not on MTV2 but VH2 when that was a channel in the UK. I was sitting on the floor chilling, as you do when you’re 11 years old, watching Bradfield getting dunked into a lake while another Bradfield in shades watches on accompanied by some Asian mobsters while the song played over the top. I didn’t know what was going on. The song sounded all right, though. The chorus where the title’s sung a couple times left a mark. The visual of the mobsters lip-syncing the “Sha-la-la-la” vocals in the break were funny. The video finished, life happened. I’m sure I kept the song in the back of my mind for a while. But then it got to a point where I couldn’t get away from it later on in 2006, because someone at the BBC decided the track would make good backing music for the Goal of the Month competition on Match of the Day. It was like that for a good two seasons of football. Was singing along to it probably every time. So there you go. I was locked in.

I’ve been singing along to the lyrics and enjoying the music to this for so long now, I’ve never thought to go and really dig deep into what the song’s about. I did always like the “I hear you’ve got something to say / But first you need some people to say it to / Just before you rise from the dead” lines. I don’t know just something to the sound of them. But in Bradfield’s words, the song’s about “the push and pull of your head and your heart telling you different, conflicting things about the way you should feel about religion”. Your head saying, “No,” but your heart saying “Yes”. He says so here. I never would have thought that. But I guess mentions of ‘lost souls on a pilgrimage’ and the ‘rise from the dead’ does give way to that context, with the whole ‘that’s no way to tell a lie’ idea being a flat-out rejection of the religious imagery that sways people to believe in it. Or something? Honestly, I don’t know. I just like the song. Knowing what it’s about doesn’t make me like it any less.

#1299: The Darkness – Stuck in a Rut

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And with this track right here, the end of The Darkness appearing on this blog is marked. We had a good run. There’s a small chance you’d have realised that all the songs by the band I’ve given my thoughts about are all from their 2003 debut album Permission to Land. That’s because I, at least, still have an amazing time listening through it. Plus, I’ve had it since I was eight or nine and the sentimental value’s very high. I’ve said in passing that The Darkness got me into rock music, and it’s the truth. That whole Permission to Land era… Songs like ‘I Believe in a Thing Called Love’, ‘Love Is Only a Feeling’, ‘Christmas Time (Don’t Let the Bells End)’. If it weren’t for them, I’d probably be casually listening to the UK Top 40. So thank God for The Darkness, honestly.

‘Stuck in a Rut’ is the seventh song on Permission to Land, starting on-beat straight after the song before it finishes. I have a good memory of listening to this one on my Playstation 2 a long, long time ago. Years later, I returned to it and found that the melody of the chorus had never left my head. The track is about a burning desire to get in a car of any kind and leave your hometown without looking back. Three of the original members of the band are from Lowestoft, a coastal town in the Southeast of England. I’ve never been there myself, but as Justin Hawkins refers to it as a ‘shithole’ and a ‘sty’, the negative reception doesn’t provide an incentive to go and visit. “Oh, kiss my arse, kiss my arse goodbye” is still a hilarious opening line to me, even though it’s meant in all seriousness. Hawkins uses the American pronunciation of “aluminium” in it too, which confused me when I was younger, but I can understand now because of the syllable numbers. And like all the other songs on the LP, he delivers his vocals with that trademark falsetto and high pitch that you could only imitate and never replicate.

Something I’ve noticed about this song is how much rawer in terms of production it sounds in comparison to the rest of the songs on Permission… While tracks like ‘Growing on Me’ or ‘Friday Night’ have these “big”, layered guitar elements to them. ‘…Rut’, on the other hand, sounds like it was a one-take performance captured live in the studio. The mix overall sounds a lot more closed in than usual, almost as if they’re playing in a small room. If that’s the case, I think it makes the track all that more impressive, especially when considering Hawkins’s vocal performance. Of course, there’s the high pitches and everything. But then there’s the insanity he captures in that adlibbed bridge where he begs his master to kill him, and the last “Yeah” in the song that faultlessly breaks into a whistle tone. It’s awesome, awesome stuff. A deep cut that’s always worth a listen. To me. But it could be to you as well.