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#1197: Mac DeMarco – She’s Really All I Need

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Rock and Roll Night Club. That’s a bit of a strange one to me. I’m a big Mac DeMarco fan, and I may have said that quite a few times in the previous posts I’ve written before. But I think I’ve only listened to that particular (mini)-album just the one time. It was DeMarco’s very first release, before 2 even came out, but it was the last one I got round to listening to. I remember the recording quality sounding pretty murky, while DeMarco’s vocals sounded much, much lower than usual. A much different vibe from the usual Mac stuff I was used to. But the one song on there that stood out by not being so different is the one I continue to listen to to this day.

‘She’s Really All I Need’ appeared in my Discover Weekly playlist on Spotify one day at work back in 2018, and initially I was confused. That slinky Mac guitar tone was all there, and the standard calming vocal delivery was present. It was obviously a Mac DeMarco song, but why hadn’t I heard it before? Was this a new song? Then I saw it was from Rock and Roll Night Club, and that answered the question. But because I liked the tune so much from the jump, think I downloaded it to my laptop when I got home, it gave me the motivation to actually go ahead and listen to the whole album. From the first paragraph, you may have sussed that it’s not one of my favourite DeMarco records. But ‘…All I Need’ is definitely one of my favourite songs of his. And so I write to you in the hope that you might enjoy it too.

The track is one of the many, many love/relationship songs that DeMarco has in his catalogue. May even be safe to assume that it’s another written about his longtime girlfriend. Though if you want to get into more depth, it sees DeMarco write about his anxieties. He’s waking up in the middle of the night with shivers. He’s bummed out by these people waving their degrees in front of his face, reminding him of his own inadequacies. But in the end, none of that really matters because he’s got his lady to calm him down and get him on the right track. All very endearing stuff, with a bunch of relatable, humorous lines and a general laid-backness to the proceedings. Also notable in that there’s an actual bridge in the track that DeMarco solos over, which I don’t think he’s done ever since.

#955: Maxïmo Park – Now I’m All Over the Shop

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I don’t have a deep connection to this one as I do to the others on A Certain Trigger, I gotta say. The other tracks I’ve talked about that are also from that album I came to know through seeing their music videos multiple on the television. ‘Now I’m All Over the Shop’ I had to come to grips with straight from audio, and it was maybe that second or third listen of it that it got that hold on me that songs can usually do for a lotta people. It comes near the end of the record, and when you come to that point in any album you start to think that the energy might give out a little or the song’s might start to decline in quality. But it isn’t this case, with this track proving the point. It’s a short, sharp burst of energy.

To be ‘all over the shop’ is a British way of saying ‘confused’, ‘disorganised, or ‘in a state of disarray’ if you want to get fancy with it. Lyricist and singer Paul Smith, or at least the narrator within this track, is left in this state it seems after the end of a relationship where nothing seemed to be going right anyway. He tried to be polite and tolerate the other person’s ways through gritted teeth, but ultimately realises that this way of dealing with things isn’t fooling anyone, especially not himself. In fact, judging by the lyrics throughout, he’s quite disgusted with the whole situation.

What really gets the gears going is the instrumentation throughout. It begins with this really tinny-sounding guitar line, then joined in by Smith on vocals and these strange out of key runs on a piano. It’s deceiving at first, but then the pre-chorus starts with a proper explosion of guitars and cymbals. From then on it’s an energetic and bustling composition. Instruments drop out and in again alongside emphatic strikes on the drums, scales climb and descend, drum rolls occur all over this thing. It’s one of those tracks to pogo to and not do much dancing to. Mainly thrashing around and flailing your arms in random directions. Again, it may not be considered to be one of the noteworthy tracks on here. I’ve got no evidence to support that statement. That’s just me assuming. But it’s a favourite of mine, so really that’s all that matters.

#934: Manic Street Preachers – No Surface All Feeling

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‘No Surface All Feeling’ was one of the last tracks Manic Street Preachers worked on as a quartet before the sudden disappearance of guitarist and lyricist Richey Edwards in February 1995. When he vanished, the band’s three remaining members went through a bit of a crisis wondering whether they should continue working together. Thankfully they did. Despite the circumstances, they got to work and returned in the spring of ’96 with Everything Must Go. The album contained a few tracks with some of Edwards’ lyrics that had been given to each member before he left, and ‘No Surface’ closes the record out as the full dedication to him.

A lot of the track’s elements seem to be directly taken from its original demo. While the demo pushes Edwards’ rhythm guitar right into the back of the mix with James Dean Bradfield’s lead guitar right up front, the decision was made – and suitably so – to make Edwards’ guitar prominent. His power chords effectively drown out Bradfield’s guitar and vocals during the introduction and the choruses. The lyrics of ‘No Surface’ were written by bassist Nicky Wire, and I can only think to describe them as the account of a man disenchanted with the rock ‘n’ roll life looking in the mirror and telling the listener what they see. Though Wire is essentially describing himself, the lyrics took on another level upon Edwards’ leaving.

Up to 1995, the Manics had established an image of being something of an outsider band. An outspoken one at that. Before they even had one album out there, they announced that it would be the greatest rock album ever. Wire wore dresses on stage. Edwards carved the words ‘4 Real’ into his forearm with a razor blade. They appeared on Top of the Pops wearing military clothing, Bradfield wore an IRA-style balaclava on his head. ‘No Surface’ was made to say that whatever they did or said or sung, it wasn’t for show. Every sentiment was straight from the heart.

#766: Guttermouth – Looking Good Is All That Matters

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After ‘I’m Destroying the World’ by Guttermouth became a song that I was always looking forward to hearing while playing Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3 back in the day, the band’s album Covered with Ants was a constant request for birthdays and Christmases. I never did get the CD. It took until 2012 when Spotify had just properly got going, that I was able to listen to the album in full. And it wasn’t bad. Not the greatest album of all time, but if you’re into skate punk and like some sarcasm in your music then it’s worth a shot.

‘Looking Good Is All That Matters’ is the fifth track on Covered with Ants, and is a basic criticism of those who have no self-respect for themselves and only motivated by physical appearances. The first verse sets the scene, with the description of a date where the man clearly can’t stand the person he’s with but she looks good so he may as well stay. The second describes a girl who throws up to maintain her slim figure. The whole message is summed up in the sarcastic chorus: “Looking good is all that matters/God bless our society.”

This track got my immediate attention when listening through the album the first time. I always enjoy a bit of humour in the music I listen to, and ‘Looking Good’ runs on that. Nothing like jokingly pointing out people’s insecurities to fast-paced punk chords.

My iPod #497: Stevie Wonder – He’s Misstra Know-It-All

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“He’s Misstra Know-It-All” closes Stevie Wonder’s seminal album Innvervisions. Preceded by tracks concerning racial tension, drug abuse and love ballads, the song is essentially a description of a man who gains people’s trust only to let them down, is a straight-up liar, only cares about subjects where there is money involved – whether he gains it or loses it, it doesn’t matter – and overall is someone that many people should avoid. The track is said to be about then President of the USA, Richard Nixon.

Despite the scathing lyrics describing this awful human being (I assume the femininisation of Mister to Miss-tra only emphasises Wonder’s disregard for this person), the song’s music itself is some of the calmest on the album. It is a wonderful five and a half minutes of piano, smooth chugging drums and Wonder’s voice along with some backing vocals that you have to nod your head back and forth to in appreciation. That is before the change up at around three minutes where Mr. Wonder begins to deliver his take with a greater passion (signified by an emphatic “BUM-BUUUHNA-BUUUHNA” ad-lib, hand-claps enter the mix, the rhythm sections play around with the rhythm here and there, and a stronger feel to the song’s groove and mood is brought about.

A real classic. Too good.