Tag Archives: and

#819: Manic Street Preachers – Me and Stephen Hawking

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I made a post about a Manic Street Preachers song from this album a couple weeks back. There was another one only four days ago. Both mention the following situation, but I’ll repeat it in case you make a decision not to read them. Manic Street Preachers had four members back in the day. One of them, lyricist and guitarist Richey Edwards, who battled with depression, alcoholism and various other bad things, disappeared in February 1995 before the band were to fly for the US leg of their Holy Bible tour. Before he left, Edwards left James Dean Bradfield, Nicky Wire and Sean Moore copies of a folder called “Opulence” which featured lyrics, notes and artwork among other things. He was presumed dead in 2008, and the three remaining members chose to use these lyrics for their next album. That record was Journal for Plague Lovers. ‘Me and Stephen Hawking’ is the third song on there.

The track plays a bit of a bridge part on the album. Following the gritty opener ‘Peeled Apples’ and the almost-single ‘Jackie Collins’, ‘Stephen Hawking’ keeps the record’s pace on a higher tempo and somewhat upbeat level, before things settle down for a little on the following track. The song is essentially a verse and a chorus repeated twice in the space of just under three minutes, but that’s all that could be done with the lyrics as they were supposedly written in the form on an almost-haiku by Edwards on his typewriter. The verses talk about genetic modification on animals and how one day it’ll be eventually used on humans. The choruses bring up surreal imagery of British wrestle Giant Haystacks in a Bombay fight, while Stephen Hawkings and, supposedly, Edwards look on at this scene and have a laugh with one another. Very two contrasting ideas going on, but I enjoy it still.

I won’t talk about the music as much, because Bradfield and Wire did it themselves for NME when the album had just been released. I’ll leave that below. But I do like how the energetic, yelling verses are stopped in their tracks by the floating chorus with Bradfield’s wilting vocals before revving right out of the gates again. It’s a very up and down motion going on. It’s a general good listen.

#760: Small Faces – Long Agos and Worlds Apart

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‘Long Agos and Worlds Apart’ is the third track from Small Faces’ 1968 album Ogdens’ Nut Gone Flake. For anyone who’s a fan of that album and regularly visits it, this track may not seem as important or substantial as the other tracks that appear alongside it on the record’s first half. Maybe seen as merely a link between predecessor ‘Afterglow of Your Love’ and following track ‘Rene’. It’s always stuck out to me as a highlight though. The track has a swinging rhythm, I get nothing but good feelings when it comes on, and it was written by keyboardist Ian McLagan who, on top of singing, also plays rhythm guitar and bass guitar here.

‘Long Agos’ is a track to do with time and relationships. McLagan sings that he doesn’t want to know about the distant past where this person wasn’t in his life, but if he had all the time in the world then he wouldn’t want to spend it with anyone else. It seems to me like a very earnest and sincere track, very optimistic from its perspective. In the final verse, McLagan then looks to the future where he’s certain that this person will still be in his life and they’ll be able to reminisce about the good old days when they were younger. And on that note, the drums come in and the band members join in with a chant of ‘hip-hip’ and ‘doowaddy-waddy’. There’s a lengthy fade-out to the track followed by a gradual surprise fade-in – which seemed to be a standard production trick in the 60s – where Steve Marriott closes out the track with a guitar solo and McLagan keeps things rolling with a chugging bassline. Sure, the main vocals in the track are finished about halfway through the track but a long instrumental outro is always good to have once in a while.

Unfortunately, this will be the last time I write about Small Faces on here. I have no other songs after this one to write about. If the times were aligned correctly, there would have been two more posts about ‘Afterglow’ and ‘The Hungry Intruder’. Do listen to the group though, they were one of the best of their kind in the 60s. Sadly, three of the members of their classic lineup have passed away. But their music goes on.

#666: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Jenny & the Ess-Dog

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Near the end of Stephen Malkmus’ first album as a ‘solo’ artist is ‘Jenny & the Ess-Dog’ – a tale of two people who couldn’t be further apart on the social spectrum in terms of age (Jenny is just 18, the Ess-Dog (Sean) is 31) and upbringing but ultimately like each other enough to have a sweet relationship.

They listen to Dire Straits’ Brothers in Arms album together and buy a pet – a dog – as some couples tend to do. Unfortunately, Jenny goes to college and the relationship eventually fizzles out leaving the two individuals to embark on their separate journeys.

The song is very easy-going and upbeat in its delivery, driven by a climbing/falling vocal melody backed by warm, sunny guitars and child-like keyboard patterns that guide each verse along. ‘Jenny’ is another track on the album that I always felt mirrored the freedom that Malkmus felt upon the split of Pavement in 1999. There was no track like this on Terror Twilight, and I guess he felt that he could with ease with the burden of his old band off his shoulders. This could have been a radio hit if he wanted it to be.

Its music video above has nothing to do with its lyrics as is the usual for a lot of Malkmus-related music videos though that shouldn’t take anything away from the song’s quality. Charming in its own strange way.

#655: R.E.M. – It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

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If I were to take a guess, I think I sing this song the same way that the majority of people who know it do. The first three lines are easy as pie, then every verse that follows is just a lot of words smushed up together into a one note melody which is then followed by the very memorable chorus.

‘It’s the End of the World’ is one of R.E.M.’s most well known tracks, one of their most played too – to the point that it may be overplayed for some people. But I only started properly listening to R.E.M. last year. I had heard the song maybe two… three times before? I’ll say five at most. And that was when its video was shown on TV. And in Chicken Little. Actually listening to it with headphones was a very different experience.

‘End of the World’ is the sixth track on R.E.M.’s fifth album, Document, released in 1987. It is not my favourite album of the group’s but this song right here is one of its highlights. The uploaded video above takes all the weight out of the audio quality though which is a shame. When those thunderous drum rolls come in at the beginning, the energy never dips from there. It’s four minutes of relentless, driving momentum. And though I never succeed in enunciating every syllable in the quickfire verses, it’s always fun to try. As said earlier, it doesn’t really matter because it has a hell of a chorus that’s not related to what goes on in those verses in any way.

Going through R.E.M.’s discography (which I had to when I found out they were actually very good) there were a few things I picked up on, especially in their earlier albums. They had a knack for great melodies. And the triple vocal harmonies of Michael Stipe, Mike Mills and Bill Berry added a layer that made the band’s songs even better when they were utilised. Melodies and harmonies are present on this track… a few countermelodies too. There’s always something new to pick up on in this track every time I hear it. It’s such a thrill. It’s quite disappointing when it starts to fade out at the end, wish it could go on for ages.

My iPod #543: Green Day – Horseshoes and Handgrenades

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“>”Horseshoes and Handgrenades” would have been the perfect first single for 21st Century Breakdown, in my opinion. “I’m not fucking around” seems like the perfect first line to come back after five years of waiting for a new album, Billie Joe sings like he is attacking with a vengeance on here and sounds absolutely untouchable. He isn’t playing any games. Most of all, the song doesn’t play it safe; though it’s a bit repetitive it is still very exciting to listen to whereas, unfortunately, “Know Your Enemy” pales in comparison.

Like Sex Pistols’ “Holidays in the Sun”, “Horseshoes” begins with a chanting soldiers march but instead introduces the song’s rip-roaring riff before Tré Cool pounds on the tom-toms to get things really rolling. In three and a bit minutes, Billie Joe Armstrong doesn’t really sing as he does melodically shout about destroying everything in his path and not giving a fuck about it. He has no respect for himself, labelling himself as ‘a hater’ and ‘a traitor’, so why should he care about what anyone else says? The solid wall of guitars made by Butch Vig’s production heighten Billie Joe’s delivery, providing a relentless riff that repeats for what seems like hours on end and come to a sudden stop after Billie’s snarling screams.

There’s a raw intensity captured in “Horseshoes” that doesn’t appear so much in the album, and it is the only one where the band go balls to the wall in their performance for the whole track.