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#1355: The Who – They Are All in Love

This marks another instance that an album will be represented for the last time on here too. I’ve covered three tracks from The Who by Numbers before, and the presence of ‘They Are All in Love’ today makes it the fourth and final one. Only a third of the album, if my calculations are correct. But even though I may only find that fraction of the record enjoyable to a degree that I’d want to hear it over and over, I’d listen to the thing the whole way through if someone, anyone, out there were to put it on. The lyrical themes are a bit of a downer. It wasn’t labelled ‘Pete Townshend’s suicide note’ by a critic just for show. But if you just want a good rock album with no constructed concept and strong performances, …by Numbers isn’t a bad shout. Out of all those old ’70s rock bands to exist, you may as well go to The Who if that’s the particular type of record you’re looking for. They don’t do too bad on the concept side either.

I remember really not rating ‘They Are All in Love’ when I went through …by Numbers the first time in about 2012 or so. The waltz timing and the dainty piano among everything else on the album made it stick out like a sore thumb. Made it difficult for me to take it seriously, so I never gave it that much attention. But as the years have gone on and I’ve relistened here and there, I’m at the point now where I’ve realised that the tune is essential to the themes of frustration and irrelevancy that thread through the album. When John Entwistle’s half-joking take on getting into the music business with ‘Success Story’ is finished, we zip back to Pete Townshend’s problems with ‘…in Love’. He finds himself being the outsider to pretty much everything that surrounds him and succumbs to his feelings of irrelevancy as he becomes the old man – at the age of 30 – in the young man’s game of rock and roll. When he writes (and Roger Daltrey sings) “Where do you walk on sunny times” or “Where do you fit in (blows raspberry) magazine”, he’s really asking himself “Where do I etc etc.” As a writer, you’ve got to address the audience in some way, and with the second-person narrative, he does easily. But it makes it the more hard-hitting when he switches to first-person in the final verse with the lines, “Goodbye all you punks, stay young and stay high / Hand me my chequebook and I’ll crawl off to die.” It’s a sucker punch.

So who’s the ‘They’ that are in love as the harmonies so delicately lay out in the choruses? To me, I don’t think it matters. ‘They’ could be anyone. The main implication from the lyric is that while everyone else is in love, Townshend on the other hand, isn’t, with anyone or anything. And no one’s loving him either. A downer, to say the least. And this carries on until the album’s end where he tries to force himself into liking the simple things in life while feeling like rubbish (‘Blue, Red and Grey’) and contemplates who he can really trust in his personal life (‘How Many Friends’) to the point where he flat out states he’s lacking direction (‘In a Hand or a Face’). Might be one of the most overlooked streaks on a Who album, those last four tracks on …by Numbers. So it goes to show the 17-year-old I was in 2012, underneath the unserious-sounding music lay a strong song that was actually very serious in its lyrics. The sprightly piano on here is easily the highlight, brought to you everyone’s go-to session musician Nicky Hopkins. He carries everything with those fingers.

#1346: Fleetwood Mac – That’s All for Everyone

In January 2014, it was officially announced Christine McVie would be rejoining Fleetwood Mac after leaving the group 15 years earlier to pursue this nice little thing called retirement. I was working as the host on my radio show back in university and used that news to slide in a Fleetwood Mac song into its playlist, specifically ‘Think About Me’ which McVie wrote and took lead vocals on. I write all this to say I must have listened through Tusk in order to get to know that song and the one that’s the subject of today’s post. When exactly I downloaded the band’s 1979 double album is something I can’t tell. All the info is on my old, very, very slow laptop whose monitor doesn’t turn on and that I have to connect to the TV in order to see what’s going on. I’ll get back to you on that one. I do have a hazy memory of being sat at my desk in my room and hearing ‘That’s All for Everyone’ and liking it then and there. But I need those dates to be sure.*

Of the first 10 tracks of Tusk, half of them were written by guitarist and vocalist Lindsey Buckingham. It’s no secret the guy took the reins after the band’s success with Rumours, insisting the band go in a different direction to avoid creating a virtual sequel. He cut his hair. He was reportedly lying down on the ground in strange positions while laying down vocals. He was certainly inspired. ‘That’s All for Everyone’ got me because… man, I could just sink into a bed while listening to it. The whole production behind it is so light and tasteful. Gentle charango strumming, a kind of lute that I never knew was used in this song until writing this. John McVie’s bass guitar working those lines. The kalimba playing those downward scales at various points. And of course the harmonies by all three songwriters. My favourite part of the entire track comes in the form of those wordless vocalizations that come in at 1:42, where you’d probably expect something like a guitar solo. An absolute moment of euphoria right there.

The song was inspired by that universal moment when the house lights come on at the end of an event and it’s time for everyone to go home. But there’s also a very human feeling about the song that I think everyone can relate to. That feeling of ‘that’s enough’ / ‘I’m done’… that feeling of just letting it all go and having a solid inner peace that comes along with it. At least that’s what I get when I hear this specific combination of words and music. It’s very mantra-like. Something to recite to yourself when trying to find that state of relaxation. Meditative is the word, it’s a very meditative track. I appreciate it a lot. It’s sort of undercut by the rocking, in-your-face number – also by Buckingham – that follows it on the album, but I’m sure that’s done very purposely. But that point is neither here nor there. ‘That’s All for Everyone’ is a fine track. Tame Impala did a cover of it a while back. I guess that’s all right. It’s all about the original for me.

*So I looked, and I downloaded the album on the 30th December 2013. That means I would have been home for the holidays. I certainly listened to it at uni, though.

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

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

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

‘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.