Tag Archives: feeling

#1404: Kevin Ayers – Town Feeling

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“Imagine if Nick Drake came out of his bout of depression, became a much happier person, started getting into circus music for whatever reason, and put those influences into his music. That’s kinda what I imagine. This is a great album. The first song appeared in my ‘Discover Weekly’ playlist on Spotify. I liked it. Checked the rest out. I wasn’t disappointed. Favourite track: The Lady Rachel” That’s what a 21-year-old me replied on a “What have you been listening to?” post on the Indieheads subreddit, on 6th May 2016, referring to Kevin Ayers’ 1969 album, Joy of a Toy, his debut solo after leaving Canterbury scene band Soft Machine the year before. It’s a pretty reductive way to write about Nick Drake and that album, to be honest. I guess I was trying to be funny. But I was also really enjoying the album at the time, and I think, in excitement, those were the instant thoughts that came to me. And the album really is a whole lot of fun. Its cover provides just a little glimpse of it.

After Joy of a Toy begins with its almost-title track, a literal invitation to a circus with jaunty music and “la-la-la / ha-ha-ha” vocalizations, ‘Town Feeling’ brings the cheerful tone down a little, bringing things to a more human, relatable sentiment. Ayers is walking around his local area, and ‘Town Feeling’ is the observational piece detailing the things he notices while he’s on his leisurely travels. Nothing too deep to read into when it comes to the words. The town is more quieter than usual. Whatever people are up to in their homes, it’s none of Ayers’s business. He doesn’t wish to know and he doesn’t think anyone should care. He sees a girl on a swing, who he dedicates a song to just a couple numbers later on the album. He grits his teeth as he listens to a person, one who I assume he doesn’t care too much for, talking about their problems when otherwise wouldn’t speak to Ayers all that much. And during the instrumental break, he drily sings the word ‘banana’ for no real reason, I think to just throw things out of kilter for a split second. It’s all very simply stated, easily sung. Almost five minutes, but it goes by quickly. A quaint song to settle you in to the album’s proceedings.

A lot of things I like about this tune. It’s the first one on the album where you really hear Ayers singing, and his deep baritone voice may throw you for a loop if you’re not expecting it. You can hear it on the intro track, but it’s rather buried in the mix, underneath the party atmosphere it’s got going. But on ‘Town Feeling’, his smooth, relaxed delivery effortlessly guides you through as he details his observations. Another aspect: The song doesn’t really have a chorus. If it does, I’d say it’s in the form of those harmonising guitars that come in after each verse. Those being the elements that provide the unifying melodic hook of the composition. And just in general, the instrumentation very different from the usual rock-band ensemble of the late ’60s, swapping out electric guitars for a piano, a cello, an oboe, acoustic guitars. It’s all a bit unusual, and that’s all throughout the album. Very intriguing, overall. So I hope you go on to listen to Joy of a Toy yourself. I’d like to shout out ‘The Clarietta Rag’ on there, because two other songs that would have been posts in another universe but don’t here have already been linked and I didn’t want that track to be left behind.

#1293: Nine Black Alps – Strangest Feeling

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Back in 2011, Nine Black Alps’ website looked like this. If you click on that link and scroll down a little, you can see that the band allowed you to stream their albums, 2005’s Everything Is and Love/Hate from 2007, as well as their whole catalogue of B-sides and a collection of their demos. Why I was on their website at the time, I can’t remember. But what I can say for sure is through launching the audio player under the ‘B-sides’ section, their inclusion being due to “public demand”, I came to know the subject of today’s post. ‘Strangest Feeling’ was a B-side released on a specific vinyl release of the ‘Burn Faster’ single. Strange that it was released only on vinyl, yet it’s available to listen to on streaming services. That’s not usually how things go. But in 2011, when I was 16 and already a big Nine Black Alps follower, finding these “new” songs felt like stumbling upon a gold mine.

‘Strangest Feeling’ was a tune I got into right away. Got a vivid memory of singing it loud in the bathroom while looking at myself in the mirror and brushing my teeth in the morning. Songwriter and guitarist Sam Forrest takes on the point of view of someone who becomes a family man. In his words, “[finds] a house and a wife and started breeding”. But this situation’s only really described in the first verse, with the second being a kind of list of contradictory statements, “I’m not coming up, I’m going down”, “I’m ecstatic, there’s no feeling,” et cetera, et cetera. A bit of a mish-mash of themes going on in this song. It may seem like a bit of a writing exercise in that case, and maybe that’s why it was considered a B-side rather than a number that could be considered album-worthy. But its hooky guitar riff and multitude of melodic points have always stood out to me. Like ‘So in Love’, there’s something very ’90s about the whole thing. In fact, this to me sounds more Nirvana than anything from Everything Is.

Ever since hearing it all that time ago, I’ve always thought of it as a really well-delivered, concise pop-rock tune. Poppy by Nine Black Alps standards. The Love/Hate era of the band was one in which Sam Forrest wanted to focus more on a melodic approach to his songwriting and performance, as opposed to the intense, straight-up hard rock found on predecessor Everything Is. It was a change that didn’t work so well, at least not to me, and Forrest has gone on to say that some songs on the album strayed from what he had envisioned. Had they taken those songs off and replaced them with the B-sides such as ‘Destination Nowhere’, ‘Daytime Habit’, ‘Heartstring’ and, obviously, ‘Strangest Feeling’, I think we all would have had a much stronger album on our hands. Always a shame when things don’t always work out the way we want them to.

#934: Manic Street Preachers – No Surface All Feeling

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‘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.

#775: The Darkness – Love Is Only a Feeling

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The Darkness was probably the first rock band I ever got into. I believe this is a statement I’ve said a few times before along this long road I’ve chosen to go down, but I haven’t looked back to see exactly where. As an eight-year-old going on nine, I can still remember the group being one of the most popular in the UK during 2003-04. ‘I Believe in a Thing Called Love’ was massive. Initially, I thought it was a joke song because… just watch the damn music video. But I actually sat down and fully took it in one day and it suddenly clicked. And I still don’t think the tag of a band you shouldn’t take seriously had gone even when they released ‘Christmas Time (Don’t Let the Bells End)’ later that year, a song that I wanted to be number 1 in the charts but was beaten by the ‘Mad World’ cover by Gary Jules.

‘Love Is Only a Feeling’ was released as the final single from Permission to Land in March 2004, and I think it was this song and its great video that convinced me to ask my older cousin to get the album for me as a birthday gift. The track is an emotional power ballad. Not so much the chugging rocker of ‘Thing Called Love’, ‘Feeling’ is led by these emphatic guitar downstrokes and dueling/harmonising guitar solos that appear throughout. The track’s meaning is very much clear in the title. Singer Justin Hawkins says it’s about how wonderful love can make you feel, but how it can also be a danger too. It’s a song that’s really from the heart, and I think that’s what really attracted me to it all that time ago. Any reservations I had about the band not being very serious about their stuff was gone. This song was really good. Still is almost 20 years later.

#605: The Beatles – I’ve Got a Feeling

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‘I’ve Got a Feeling’ is the eighth song on The Beatles’ final album Let It Be, opening the second half of the record if you own it on vinyl. I think everyone knows the story behind the making of it. If not, I’ll try and lay down some knowledge for you.

The Beatles spent five months working on what became their self-titled double album in 1968. It was released in November of that year. They took a short break and the four members did whatever they wanted in that time. As soon as January 1969 arrived they were back in the studio, mostly because of Paul McCartney’s eagerness to start work again. John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr didn’t particularly want to be there and the group had a miserable time in the first few days. The month went on, internal relationships sort of got better (thanks to the inclusion of keyboardist Billy Preston in their sessions and a change in studio), just enough that they were able to record an album’s worth of songs and play what was to be their final live performance on the roof of their Apple Corps headquarters. During that concert, ‘I’ve Got a Feeling’ was played twice and the first take of it is the version you hear on the album.

The rooftop concert is the obvious highlight of the Let It Be film; it’s practically the only time that you see the four members really enjoying themselves when playing together. There are a ton of recordings you can find on YouTube of the band going through ‘I’ve Got a Feeling’ in the studio and the magic just isn’t there. But it’s on the roof where the song comes alive. Paul McCartney melodically roars throughout the entire track and George Harrison’s spiking lead guitar on the right hand side helps to really move the track along. It’s also the last track in which McCartney and Lennon equally share their lead vocal. Lennon had worked on his own song called ‘Everybody Had a Hard Year’ in the latter stages of 1968 and through some wise decision-making it was incorporated into McCartney’s song.

To whoever may be reading this you should definitely try and watch the Let It Be documentary. Not particularly for any action that happens because there’s not a lot of it, but it hits when the concert segment gets going and the group start performing. These were four people who weren’t genuinely happy throughout most of the film for the past hour. But for the 20 minutes that portion of the film lasts for, they put their all into their performance. It’s a real joy to see.

By the end of January, they didn’t have much faith in what they had recorded and decided to start work on what would become Abbey Road instead. Let It Be could have been a lost album. It’s good that it wasn’t. We wouldn’t have this great song otherwise.