Tag Archives: and

#940: John Lennon – Nobody Loves You (When You’re Down and Out)

1 Reply

In 1974, an advertisement was made to promote the release of John Lennon’s forthcoming album, Walls and Bridges. His former bandmate but good friend Ringo Starr provided the voiceover, and two of Lennon’s new tracks were previewed. One being ‘Whatever Gets You thru the Night’, his first number one in the US, and today’s song, ‘Nobody Loves You (When You’re Down and Out)’. Decades later, I came across the latter through seeing the advert on YouTube, and that small clip left me wanting to hear the whole thing. So, I guess that commercial fulfilled its job.

‘Nobody Loves You’ encapsulates Lennon’s feelings and cynical takes he had garnered during his “Lost Weekend” period, a time when he was separated from Yoko Ono and spending his days drinking and getting high with his buddies in Los Angeles. He was ultimately depressed and lonely, but also let down by the critical and public reception of his then-latest music. He had given the world hope with the Beatles. He’d been at the forefront spreading the message of peace and love. He’d laid his soul bare countless times in previous albums. But the indifference in return at the time left he feeling cheated and disillusioned with the music industry. Probably why he decided to retire for a bit not so long after.

Lennon said that the track was one that Frank Sinatra could have sung. Listening to it, you can kind of see why. The tense strings and the smoky-nightclub-esque horn section provide the music this grand cinematic feel, and its crawling tempo lend a feel that the best of those iconic crooners could belt out a note to. Though funnily in a way, Lennon doesn’t go the ‘My Way’ route and instead sings the lyrics in a hushed and rather casual manner. The restraint makes it all the more harder when, after a sweet slide-guitar solo, the music rises with tempo and urgency and Lennon lets everything out on the “Well, I get up in the morning” section. That doesn’t last too long though. The music returns to that of the verses, and after the now quite chilling line “Everybody loves you when you’re six foot in the ground”, Lennon sends us off with some happy-go-lucky whistling. To think, had he not come back with a new record in 1980, this could have been his last original song on an album. It’s not a song to feel happy to when you’re listening, but it’s certainly relatable. Not in the way that we could see it from Lennon’s point of view as an almighty mega-rich superstar. But it ultimately distils a sense of loneliness and cynicism that all of us feel from time to time.

#923: Wings – Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five

Leave a reply

After a year of ploughing through YouTube for videos, reading Wikipedia articles and downloading Beatles albums, the time came that it only made sense to listen to each member’s solo material. 2010 was the year. Not knowing where to start, I chose what I presumed to be the most popular solo albums – leaving me the options of John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band, Imagine, Band on the Run and All Things Must Pass. Not too bad to start off with. My own experience with Band on the Run has varied with time. Twelve years ago, I thought it was great from front to back. Now I don’t revisit it too much. The songs are still enjoyable, but it does sound really 70s. Which does make sense seeing as it was recorded then. But you know when you hear something and it sounds like it could only have been released during that time.

So I haven’t really listened to a track from that album for some time, except ‘Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five’ which, in my eyes, beats all of the others on there hands down. It’s the album’s big finale. It’s a bop. It brings the album’s themes of love and escape into focus here, overloading it with a dramatic production of busy minor-chord pianos, harmonious backing vocals, organs, the whole lot. I don’t know if anyone’s put it down to a tee of what the track is about. McCartney stated that he had the song’s first line in his head for months before eventually carrying on with it. But what I gather from it is a ‘love will conquer all’ kind of message. While everyone’s thinking about themselves and their own worries, Paul and Linda (who I assume he’s probably singing about) don’t have so much of a burden because they have each other. Although, it could just be a case where the lyrics came to McCartney and sounded good with the music with not much thought put into them. It’s all speculation.

Really, the highlight of the entire track is its ending, which really begins with two minutes left of its running time. While Paul McCartney’s adlibbing in the background, grunting, yelling, wooping, making all kinds of noises, the instrumental builds and builds. McCartney’s going wild on the guitar performing these bends and licks. A droning synthesizer is introduced followed by blaring horns. What I think is a clarinet comes in and pulls of this crazy run of notes. The music gets louder and louder before crescendo-ing into its explosive final chord, which then segues into a reprise of the album’s opening track. I get goosebumps every time. A big fan of songs with great endings over here, and this one is up there with the best of them.

#866: Ween – Mountains and Buffalo

Leave a reply

‘Mountains and Buffalo’ is a track recorded by Ween during the making of their 2003 album Quebec. Though it wasn’t included on the eventual final tracklist, I guess because it just doesn’t reach that odd weirdness that runs throughout that record, the band saw enough potential in it that they released it as a double A-side single alongside ‘Tried and True’.

As far as the track goes, it’s a pretty solid rock band performance. Gene and Dean Ween are on the guitars pulling off some great chord progressions, Dave Dreiwitz on bass guitar pulls off some good runs, and Claude Coleman Jr. powers through with those drums. Well, I’m assuming those four guys are playing on here. There are plenty of instances on Quebec where it’s only Gene and Dean on a track and none of the band’s other members are on there. There’s definitely a band performance aura about this one though.

Although the live band performance feel would stick out had it been included on its parent album, the lyrics certainly don’t. They’re quite obscure, not very linear… more based on imagery rather than having a full-on narrative. Though inspecting them closely, I think Gene Ween’s singing about having a few drinks and having a quickie with a fine lady. The way he expresses this encounter really makes the experience sound quite spaced out and trippy. It’s all great though. Something of a deep cut in the Ween discography because that double A-side single is hard to find. Very memorable yet understated, which I always like to find in a song.

#819: Manic Street Preachers – Me and Stephen Hawking

Leave a reply

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

Leave a reply

‘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.