Tag Archives: can’t

#1298: U2 – Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of

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1,298 songs in, and we reach the first U2 song. It’ll be the only one, though, sorry. There are people out there who despise the band, mostly because they don’t like Bono. Me? I don’t have anything massive against them. I’m neither here nor there. I can’t say I’m the biggest fan. But they do have some fine, fine songs. When I really started getting into alternative/rock music in about 2004, it was during a time when the video for ‘Vertigo’ was playing almost every day on MTV2. The How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb era. And nine-year-old me thought it was a cool song. So I can sort of thank U2 for getting me into the genre a little more. But today’s song isn’t from that era of the band. It’s from the one that preceded it a good four years earlier. In 2000, U2 returned from an experimental phase during the ’90s with a back-to-basics rock album in All That You Can’t Leave Behind, and ‘Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of’ – the second song on there – was released as its second single in 2001.

And this is one of those occasions where I have a clear, clear memory of seeing its music video on TV during that time, even though I would have only been five years old. It was playing on The Box, which was kinda the mainstream UK pop music video channel of the time, and there was Bono on the TV screen rolling around on the floor over and over again. And because I was a child and still had years until my voice dropped, whenever I tried to sing, “Stuck in a moment and you can’t get out of it,” that “can’t get out of it” part was too low for my register. I didn’t have the diaphragm for it yet. For the longest time, in the back of my mind, I thought that if I was able to sing that phrase, it must have meant that the process of puberty had finally happened. I can gladly say at the age of 30, I can sing along to the track just fine. It wasn’t until a few years back that I revisited the song, gave it a few more listens with that core memory flashing in the brain and realized that I liked it a bunch.

Think it’s common knowledge that the track was written as a tribute to Michael Hutchence, a good friend of Bono’s, who was famously known for being the original lead singer for the rock band INXS. Hutchence passed away in 1997 through suicide, the action of which is kind of alluded to by Bono in the song’s bridge (“I was unconscious, half asleep” / “I wasn’t jumping, for me it was a fall” / “It’s a long way down to nothing at all”). Bono, saddened by what happened, wrote ‘Stuck in a Moment…’ as a things-he-wished-he-could-have-said song. He expresses his admiration for Hutchence and is still effected by him even with absence, but wishes he could have told him that whatever tough times he was going through, they would eventually pass and there was no need to feel so down. Guitarist The Edge also gets a moment on the lead vocal near the song’s end with the falsetto on the “And if the night runs over…” section. Though funnily, it gets pushed back into the mix to make way for Bono’s adlibbing. I like this one a lot. A track that reminds you to reach out to your friends in times of trouble. Or just on a frequent basis. ‘Cause you never know what could be happening.

#828: Talking Heads – Memories Can’t Wait

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This is the first Talking Heads song I’ve written about on here. Now, that just seems strange to me. I thought I would have covered at least one. But nope. So here it is. I had my Talking Heads phase in about 2016 or so. By then I’d had Remain in Light and 77 in my library, and I knew songs like ‘Burning Down the House’ and ‘Road to Nowhere’ because of videos and all that. But it was in 2016 that I properly listened to their discography from front to back. It quickly became clear that Fear of Music would probably be my favourite of the band’s. And it is.

To me that album has David Byrne at his most paranoid, neurotic and vocally expressive. It’s a great record. Each track is about a fear of the thing each song is named after; it doesn’t work as well for this. ‘Fear of Memories Can’t Wait’? Nah. But the song is definitely about a fear of something. In fact, it’s one of the most frightening tracks on the album. David Byrne sings/yelps/wails about being unable to leave a party whilst seeing other leave and having their freedom, while also having all of these rushing thoughts bouncing off the walls in his head. It’s a bit of an ‘I have no mouth and I must scream’ sort of situation. But thinking about it, the lyrics kind of sound like the perspective of a person who’s possibly on ecstasy. Just maybe? It’s an idea.

The tracks carried by all these warped atmospheric synthesizers, no doubt brought into place by Brian Eno who was now producing his second album with the band. Tina Weymouth does her thing on the bass, I really like those notes that play after each line in the ‘Party in my mind’ sections. Generally, I just like how the song’s always sort of moving forward, the chord progressions… it just keeps you on the edge of your seat, you know? And the ending, my goodness. With about a minute to go the song suddenly segues into this other movement where by the end of it Byrne and guitarist Jerry Harrison are bellowing the song’s title at the top of their lungs. It’s great, man. Honestly one of my favourite endings to a piece of music. The whole 3 and a half minutes is good though. Very worth your time.

#567: The Strokes – I Can’t Win

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I am in that small group of people who prefer The Strokes’ sophomore album Room on Fire to their widely-loved debut Is This It. The latter gathers all the acclaim from fans and critics alike because it arrived at a time when the mainstream was dominated by boy bands and nu-metal, and ushered in a new wave of indie/garage-rock bands in the early 2000s. Also, it has the tunes to back it up. The title track? Great. ‘Hard to Explain’? Awesome. ‘Take It or Leave It’? Very nice, indeed.

However, it’s rough-around-the-edges style of production has always been something that’s stopped me from liking it as much as I probably could. On Room on Fire every track sounds slicker, more precise and tighter in execution; if Is This It had that sound I would probably like it a lot more. But what can you do? Also I just like more songs on Room than on their debut which would sway my stance on the matter.

And so the album closes with today’s song, ‘I Can’t Win’, a two and a half minute package of catchy guitar riffs, a steady rhythm section and signature crooning by Julian Casablancas. Very much like the rest of the songs on the album, his vocals are low in the mix allowing an emphasis on the instrumentation provided by the other four members. The song addresses the feeling when someone with low motivation attempts to try something out but often gives up or is told that they’re not good enough. Something relatable for many a person. I’ve also thought that it’s a sneaky self-conscious commentary by Casablancas on fans and critics who wouldn’t accept the music they were doing, and in that respect he couldn’t win.

“Yeah, I wait for something
Cool it, we won’t take that shit
Good try, we don’t like it
Hold on, yes, I’ll be right back”

The Strokes wouldn’t be back for two and a bit years. Then ‘Juicebox’ came around. That’s for another day.

#566: The La’s – I Can’t Sleep

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The self-titled debut album by The La’s remains to be the band’s sole release almost thirty years later. Having been recorded over and over again for over two years with about four/five different producers due to songwriter Lee Mavers’ relentless perfectionism, the final product produced by Steve Lillywhite arrived in 1990 and was immediately disowned by the band members before they parted ways in 1992. It has gone down as a fine album in history, a staple of the jangle pop genre. Mavers has gone to label it as a “piece of shit”. Make of it what you will.

‘I Can’t Sleep’ is the album’s second song and, after the light acoustic starter of ‘Son of a Gun’, provides the album’s first kick in the balls with its raw feel and punchy rhythm. The track has a prominent stop-starting groove that emphasises its downbeat with powerful chord blasts and an occasional strike on the floor drum that comes like an explosion. And with Mavers signature raspy vocal, it makes out for a very rough and rowdy affair.

When it comes to what it’s about, I can’t say anything for sure. I used to think it was about going out to parties due to mentions of big black cars (limos?) and the inability to sleep due to said party. Though I did see an interpretation involving being sad and taking drugs to get away from those feelings. It may be so. Let’s just enjoy the music, eh.

*You may have noticed that I’ve taken away the ‘My iPod’ from post titles.  I think you know what these posts are about by now. If you don’t…. I’m not sure I can help you.

#565: The Who – I Can’t Reach You

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Just when one Who song has been done, another comes quickly around the corner. ‘I Can’t Reach You’ comes right after ‘I Can See for Miles’ on The Who Sell Out, and as I type this I’m slowly realising the contrast between the two. The latter expresses a narrator’s confidence in their ability to see all things, whereas the former witnesses one who’s trying their hardest to gain any sort of communication with a particular entity they want to get close to. Also, ‘I Can’t Reach You’ is one the daintiest compositions on the whole album which is a sudden change coming after the chaos of the preceding song. Clearly a lot of thought was put into the order of the tracklist. I’ve listened to this album for about seven years now and that’s just crept on me.

There’s a child-like innocence I sense when listening to this song, possibly aided by the foregrounded light piano that leads the melody and the fact that Pete Townshend sings here. At this point Roger Daltrey hadn’t fully developed his trademark howling vocals of the 70s so there’s not a large difference between the two’s vocal abilities on the album, but Townshend’s higher register lends this particular song a softer and vulnerable touch.

The song is the first on the album to use lyrics/music that would then be appear on the following album Tommy through the ‘see, feel, hear’ section of the chorus. ‘Sunrise’ does it. ‘Rael 1’ does it. ‘Glow Girl’ does it too, if you own the 1995 release. Other small, small things to look out for when listening is John Entwistle’s heavenly harmony vocal during the chorus, Keith Moon’s yet again going crazy on the drums – so much so that he lets out a scream before a drum roll around 2:32 – and the sneaky key change that occurs during the instrumental break which you won’t realise would have happened until Townshend brings in the final chorus. It’s all nicely tied together. One of my favourites on the album.