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#1426: Feeder – Tumble and Fall

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So here’s the final, final time a Feeder song will be in this series. They’ve been around since the first calendar year the blog existed, a time when I was doing a post a day, publishing one once I’d finished it without any effort to proofread. How those times have changed. Growing up in the 2000s, you were bound to see a music video by Feeder somewhere on those dedicated channels. Kerrang!, MTV2, VH2… The list could go on. And the songs those videos were made for tended to be really good. I’ve come to see Feeder as something like the Welsh Foo Fighters. You don’t have to be a huge fan of either group, but you’ll hear ‘Just a Day’ or ‘The Pretender’ out in the wild and immediately think, “Oh, I know that song.” Both have made considered-to-be-classics among their respected fanbases. In Feeder’s case, it’s probably Comfort in Sound. Then there’s The Colour and the Shape. Both bands have had their tragedies when it comes to their drummers. And generally, for me, the singles across the two’s discographies are usually the best songs they’ve done. It’s all a little too similar.

‘Tumble and Fall’ was a single. It was released as the first one from Feeder’s fifth album, Pushing the Senses, two weeks before the album’s arrival in January 2005. That whole era of the band was one I missed completely. During that time, I would have been at my peak of Green Day worship, watching Homestar Runner and Weebl and Bob on the side. When Feeder’s The Singles compilation came out in May 2006 and I got it the Christmas that year, ‘Tumble and Fall’, being the single it was, was on there. But I was looking forward more to hearing ‘Buck Rogers’ and ‘Burn the Bridges’ whenever I wanted to. Oh, and ‘Shatter’. All great songs. It was years later that I saw the video for ‘Tumble and Fall’, again on one of those music television channels. Songwriter and guitarist Grant Nicholas once said the tune is a love song and the ups and downs of life, life in general and how you deal with it. I feel like it’s a love song, though not in the regular way you’d probably think.

You see, Nicholas’s close friend and original drummer of the band Jon Lee passed away in January 2002. The loss was the impetus for the creation of the album Comfort in Sound, which was released later that year. I think ‘Tumble and Fall’ sees Nicholas still trying to come to terms with the fact Lee was gone, even in 2004, presumably when the song was written and recorded. “Life’s not the same since that day you went way / I recall, like the drops of summer rain that fell on me / Come back to me.” That whole bridge, really sad. Understandably, Nicholas wishes Lee was still around. And then there are the clear allusions to suicide in the music video, which only reinforced my interpretation of the song. All in all, I think the feeling of the song is summed up in those resigned, “Yeah, yeah, yeahs” that occur throughout the song. Sometimes that’s all it comes down to if you’d have to describe how life’s going, just brush it off, “yeah, yeah, yeah.” ‘Tumble and Fall’ is a slow burner, but it’s got a lot of weight to it. Really makes you feel. I was on a train home from somewhere, 2019 time, was staring out the window while the rain was pouring with this song playing in my ears… It really hit me there, I gotta say.

#1414: Ween – Tried and True

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Just when Quebec was starting to get some love over here, it comes to a swift end. No more Quebec songs are to appear after this one. There is one on the album that begins with ‘Z’. I like it, but not to the extent that I do all the other tracks I’ve written about. So that’s how it is. Literally wrote about ‘Transdermal Celebration’ the other day, so I’ll spare the whole spiel about my feelings on the LP and its context. On that post, I did say there were five numbers on Quebec that would have had their own posts had the time been right. May as well list them out: ‘Among His Tribe’, ‘Happy Colored Marbles’, ‘Hey There Fancypants’, ‘Chocolate Town’ and ‘The Argus’. Always had a great time with those songs in particular. But as I feel I implied in the last post concerning Quebec, the album as a whole is very special. So we say farewell to it, and its last representative comes in the form of its sixth track, ‘Tried and True’.

At the time of writing this, ‘Tried and True’ is the most-played Quebec song on Spotify with 25+ million streams. A good 11 million more than the next. Not quite sure why that happened. Possibly through various playlist inclusions. I really like ‘Tried and True’ myself, but I wouldn’t say it’s the best song Quebec has to offer. But what I think it provides the people is some very easy listening. You just sit back in your most comfortable chair and let yourself sink into it while this song rides out. It’s helped by the fact that, and I’m pretty sure it’s the case, the band recorded it at a faster speed in its original key of C, before slowing it down to how it is on the album. Why would the band do that, you might ask. It just gives the track a certain character, I think. Makes the track sound a bit more spaced out. Hits some certain frequencies that wouldn’t be possible without the production tricks. And plus, it seems that whenever the band worked with producer Andrew Weiss, speed manipulation was the way to go a lot of the time.

In the live performance below, Gene Ween precedes the song by saying it’s one ‘about space and time’. I can’t really argue with that. I would put forward, there’s definitely something sexual about ‘Tried and True’ too. Is that fair to say? There’s certainly some double entendres that support that theory. “I woke, I was alone… rising”. “Rising” could refer to the physical act of getting out of bed or a classic case of morning wood. Then I’d say the song is about waking up with very strong blood flow and feeling untouchable, with a heavily cosmic spin put on it via the lyrics, reinforced by the electric sitar, the pulsating keyboards and floaty background vocals that come in nearing the song’s end. But I may also be completely wrong on that front. It also contains the cheekiest play on words with the “Could you smell my whole… life?” lyric. I tell you, I sung that out loud in front of my sister one time. She looked at me for a second during that pause between “whole” and “life” before I completed the lyric myself. And that was when I should maybe only reserve audible singing for times when there’s no one else in the room.

#1325: The Raconteurs – The Switch and the Spur

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Looks like I got some memories muddles up when recalling my experiences with The Raconteurs’ Consolers of the Lonely album. In the first post I wrote for a song on there, I specifically mention that I bought the CD myself. Then a few years later, I say I got it as a gift. “So which one is it?” I think I hear you ask. Well, I’m gonna go ahead and say it was probably the first one. The mind was fresher at 18 than it was at 27. And if that was the case, I want to say I bought it from a Woolworth’s store when those were still around. This all would have happened in 2008, very close to when the album was released. But it’s all a bit of a blur. That period in time when I was turning 13 is one that I have huge blanks on for some reason. Must have been all the hormonal changes that were happening. But I made a decision to get that album in that state, and it turned out to be a good one.

‘The Switch and the Spur’ is the fifth song on the album. When you get Consolers… up on Spotify, the first thing you’ll notice is that the number of listeners takes a considerable dip when compared to the track that comes before it. I guess the fact that ‘Old Enough’ was a single would play a part in that. But I can at least assure, ‘Switch and Spur’ is a cool track. I don’t think I’ve let you down so far with my musical recommendations. Brendan Benson takes lead vocals on the song, telling the story of an outlaw, on the run after breaking out of jail, in the setting of a Spaghetti Western. The man rides his horse through the desert, in the blistering heat, gets bitten by a snake and begins to hallucinate before eventually dying with his hands still on the reins of his four-legged companion. Then the narrative perspective changes from the third-person narrator telling the story to the first-person of, I think, the spirits of those who’ve also died in the area as they warn that whoever follows the path of the outlaw will face the same outcome. Or something along those lines. Dramatic stuff.

But the music of it all, man. Really helps in setting that tone of an old Western film of some kind. Starts off with that jubilant piano melody, that’s then mirrored by the shrill trumpet. A definite Mariachi feel that’s given off by the horns, I see a Mariachi band just playing in the desert when I hear it. Then the music gets all sneaky with the unified guitar and piano line during Benson’s verses, as he describes the scene as this outlaw rides the plains. The sections move between these two movements before, halfway through, the track suddenly doubles in tempo and the rhythms start to get a little busier. Jack White busts out a screeching solo on his guitar. There are a lot of things happening. It feels like everything’s constantly moving, pushing and pulling, you never quite know which direction the song will go. I think that’s what gets it going for me. So to stop myself from poorly describing what happens in the song from beginning to end, I’m gonna finish things here and let you listen for yourself.

#1309: Weezer – Summer Elaine and Drunk Dori

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Weezer had us going for a little moment there in the mid-2010s. After releasing Everything Will Be Alright in the End in 2014, an album that was immediately regarded as a return to form, they then provided their fourth self-titled album – commonly referred to as the White Album – a couple years later. These two records here suggested that the band were on a bit of a roll. Here they were making solid rock music like they did in those halcyon days of the ’90s, something that everyone was praying for when it seemed like all was lost between 2005 and 2010. Then Pacific Daydream arrived in 2017, which felt like a move saying “Don’t get those hopes up too quickly now.” Rivers Cuomo had returned to his mission of writing the perfect pop song. But those two rock albums showed that the band could still do it. They probably could now too. I’m waiting for that day to come.

‘Summer Elaine and Drunk Dori’ is the seventh song on Weezer (2016), one that sees the narrator reminiscing on the two titular characters and wondering, “What they could they both be up to now?” One of those types of songs. It’s boosted by a glorious chorus, another one on an album that’s filled with them, and includes references to Radiohead and Paul Simon. The former of which felt out of place initially, but as time’s gone on I’ve just accepted it for what it is. Luckily Rivers Cuomo provided an interview on the Song Exploder podcast on an episode that was dedicated to the entire song. Really, you could just listen to that, and I wouldn’t have to write anymore. It’s been a while since I listened to that specific episode, but I do remember a mention of Excel spreadsheets when it came to creating the lyrics. Genuinely fascinating stuff. It’s usually better hearing the backstory of a song from its actual songwriter rather than a guy who just listens and provides his own interpretations.

So it looks like this’ll be the only entry from Weezer’s White Album. A shame really, ’cause there’s a number of good songs on there. Opener ‘California Kids’ is one I remember humming spontaneously to myself when I was grocery shopping around the time of the album’s release. ‘L.A. Girlz’, the track ‘Summer Elaine…’ transitions into on the album, was an instantaneous like for me, and I think the band shouldn’t try and make anymore pop songs because they already made their best one with ‘Jacked Up’. It surprised me how much I came to enjoy that one. Had the timing aligned, those three songs would’ve had their own posts too. Not saying the album’s perfect by any means. I was never into ‘Thank God for Girls’ when it was released months in advance, and ‘Do You Wanna Get High?’ I sort of fell out of favour with even after initially being really excited by it and playing repeatedly when it was first unveiled on YouTube. But I still have a lot of love for the whole package and still think it’s the best post-’90s Weezer album to this day.

#1125: Ween – Right to the ways and the rules of the world

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Maybe the best way to listen to The Pod is through the way its broken up on its vinyl releases. Split up into four sides, having the time to digest one of those at a time with some breaks in between would probably allow a new listener to at least digest the 15-20 minutes that each side of vinyl provides. I didn’t do this. When I was fully on my Ween exploration in 2015, I dove headfirst into the album on Spotify and listened to it the whole way through. All 76 minutes. That first time was a slog. I don’t know if you know, but the album is known for having extremely shitty production, even though a lot of the songs are classics. At least to us Ween fans, anyway. ‘Right to the ways and the rules of the world’ is only the seventh track on there. On that first listen, it felt like I’d been listening to the album for much longer than when the song arrived. And it also felt like it went on for a lot more than the mere five minutes it lasts for.

Now of course I’m used to it all. The track is a slow, slow one though. Coming after the little non-song of ‘Pollo Asado’ (a very popular one for Ween people), ‘Right…’ is what I believe to be a mimic of those old, melodramatic ’70s progressive rock songs by bands who would write about things like folklore or traditions of the past… myths and legends and the like. Gene and Dean Ween take on this melodramatic route, singing about nothing but a bunch of silliness – brilliant imagery though, gotta be said – all of which is crowned by the aloof harmonies that recite the song’s title phrase. “Monsters that trinkle like cats in the night/The cosmic conceiver continues his plight.” Those are just the first couple of lines.

The screeching organ that blares throughout is the melodic linchpin throughout the song, really hammering home that sort of medieval type of sound that I think the song’s going for. Something of a vocal chameleon, Gene Ween puts in another captivating performance. Increasing in intensity throughout, it culminates in the final verse where he lets out a shriek and then falls into a fit of laughter as the instrumental continues. Some people may argue that the song takes some momentum out of the album’s proceedings. Whatever “momentum” that may be, going through this album can feel like being in a state of purgatory sometimes. It’s just as essential as any other track on there, I feel. The production is so murky, you could almost choke on it. But the song at the core of it stands strong.