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#738: The Dismemberment Plan – A Life of Possibilities

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Think it was 2013 when I tried to listen to The Dismemberment Plan for the first time. I was on my Pitchfork tip during that time, trying to hear ‘new’ albums particularly in the indie scene. And Emergency & I, the band’s album released in 1999 is considered to be something of a classic in that genre. I went onto YouTube, searched for this track, listened to the first few seconds and really wasn’t into it. Why was this man singing like that? And what was with the squirty keyboard bass? Get that outta here. That was more or less my line of thinking from what I can recall. This was a major error.

Fast forward a few months later. I was in my first year of university and decided to really sit down and give the full album a listen. ‘A Life of Possibilities’, if you don’t know, starts Emergency off so there were the strange vocals and the keyboard bass again. But this time those two things sounded great together, and were backed with an undeniable groove too. This is what happens when you give a song more than a mere few seconds of your time. Then the dueling guitar hook came in and I was instantly hooked. If there is one thing about Emergency & I that I appreciated straight from the bat, it’s that almost every track has a great chorus. There’s no proper chorus in ‘Possibilities’ but those harmonizing guitars act as one, coming in between each verse in which singer and lyricist Travis Morrison goes on about – I think – someone who isolates themselves from society but finds that at some point they’ll have to get out there to truly live their life.

So yeah, do check out Emergency & I if you have the time. Don’t be like me when I was seventeen and disregard it because you don’t like a few sounds on it. The record is suitable for those going through their quarter life crisis, or just those who have hard times growing up in their 20s. That’s a large demographic.

#736: Radiohead – Life in a Glasshouse

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Continuing their run of awesome album closers, ‘Life in a Glasshouse’ is the last track on Radiohead’s album Amnesiac and, in a way, put an ominous end to their remarkable reinvention era of 2000/2001 when they wowed critics and confused listeners with the aforementioned album and Kid A eight months earlier. Obviously Radiohead always reinvent themselves in some way, but in this period people really questioned what the band were trying to do with this new anti-rock route they were going with.

‘Glasshouse’ is probably the group’s most unique track. There is no other song in Radiohead’s discography that is like it at all. And that’s not me trying to say that it differs in just a minor area from their other material. The track is this sad-sounding, jazzy funeral dirge complete with clarinets, trumpets and a huge big band section. I seem to remember lying in bed, half-asleep, listening to Amnesiac for the first time in late 2012. Though I thought the rest of the album was alright (an opinion I still hold today, it’s probably one of my least favourite Radiohead albums) this track stood out to me as a highlight while also bringing a downer to whatever dream I was having. The track itself is inspired by an incident where a wife of a famous actor covered her windows with newspapers to prevent paparazzi and the tabloids from getting any proper photos of her. But Thom Yorke’s delivery on ‘someone’s listening in’, especially at the end, is very creepy. Makes me feel like I’m being watched. We are all being watched in some way.

Because the jazzy instrumental was provided by a specific band, led by musician Humphrey Lyttelton who passed away in 2008, the band have never performed the song live. Except for that one time that they did in 2001. Below is Lyttleton’s band and Radiohead on Later with Jools Holland performing the track.

#716: Queen – Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

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Queen do a ‘days of the week’ song in today’s post. In December 2018 I went on a quest to listen through the band’s discography. Having done so, I then went on to rank them according to my own preference. I picked A Night at the Opera as my number one, not a brave pick by any standard because it is widely agreed to be their best album. Even so it’s ‘Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon’ from that album, the shortest song on there and arguably the one with the least substance, that I find myself singing along and wanting to listen to repeatedly.

Freddie Mercury takes you through a list of activities he does during the week. They are as follows: Working, going off to honeymoon, bicycling, waltzing to the zoo, painting in the Louvre, he’s not sure what he’ll do on Saturday but he’s bound to be proposing, and he’ll definitely be lazing on the Sunday. That’s all well and good. I think I’m just a sucker for the whole music hall vibe of the track. The vocals were recorded through a tin-can which provides the ‘loudspeaker’ effect on Mercury’s voice. John Deacon and Roger Taylor provide a bouncy rhythm that Freddie does some dainty piano fills over. And quite unexpectedly the song changes key and Brian May comes in with about three overdubbed guitar solos to close the song out. All in just over a minute.

‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ is on this album. You know that one. Everyone does. But when I’m listening to this album, I don’t know what it is, ‘Sunday Afternoon’ just perks me up. The definition of short and sweet.

#707: They Might Be Giants – Lady Is a Tramp

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When I found out that They Might Be Giants’ ‘Lady Is a Tramp’ – found on their B-Side compilation Miscellaneous T – was a cover of a classic musical number, I went to listen to an earlier take of the track from long ago. It’s been performed by some true greats. Frank Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Bing Crosby, you name it. Once I did that, it really left me wondering how They Might Be Giants’ version resembled the song in any way.

The Johns’ cover is an instrumental of blaring synthesized trumpets and a bass guitar that gets louder and louder in the mix at various points. It’s only a minute and 20 seconds long. Someone, I assume it’s John Flansburgh, yells “Yeah!” twice and there’s a sample of Carla saying the word ‘tramp’ from her and Otis Redding’s song of the same name. After a few listens I realised that the trumpets loosely follow the original song’s melody in a very jumped up and hyper fashion. Lady Gaga and Tony Bennett coincidentally released their cover of the song the same year I heard TMBGs’ for the first time; the melodic similarity was right there. I think They Might Be Giants’ wild take just makes me appreciate their cover a lot more. It’s a very different way of taking on a Broadway musical number.

#693: Radiohead – Kid A

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The title track from Radiohead’s fourth album is a strange one. At least that’s what I thought of it when I first listened to it. I’ve just grown to like it because of its unsettling nature. I was a child in 2000 so I can only imagine how people who were expecting an OK Computer Part 2 reacted when hearing Kid A upon its initial release. 2012 was when I decided to take it on. I didn’t think ‘Everything in Its Right Place’ was too out there, but ‘Kid A’ certainly takes things in another direction.

The music, written by the band’s lead guitarist Jonny Greenwood, has an innocent child-like music box quality to it, which is layered upon by these soothing guitar chords that feel very warm and very comfortable. Then Thom Yorke comes in. He had some lyrics for the song that he didn’t want to sing. Instead, he spoke them into the microphone and Greenwood improvised a melody when processing the vocal through an Ondes Martenot. As a result, Yorke’s voice as a robotic tone to it that greatly contrasts with the comforting music box notes that persist throughout.

The lyrics, like many others, were assembled randomly after having been written and cut up. There aren’t many present on the track. There are six phrases throughout: “I slipped away/I slipped on a little white lie/We’ve got heads on sticks and you’ve got ventriloquists/Standing in the shadows at the end of my bed/The rats and children follow me out of town/Come on kids”. Very dark, visual and mysterious imagery on show. Clearly, there aren’t a lot of lyrics either. But the group are still able to make something grand out of very little. That’s a reoccurring theme throughout the album.

With a piercing wail, the song comes to an end and transitions into ‘The National Anthem’, which takes the unsettling tones to another level.