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#622: Supergrass – In It for the Money

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So after Supergrass gained a ton of praise from their debut album I Should Coco in 1995, helped tremendously by their most recognisable hit and youth anthem ‘Alright‘, Steven Spielberg approached the band in an effort to make a television series with them based on that of The Monkees. The group declined, instead choosing to record their second album. This was most definitely the better route to take. Coco was a burst of sharp wit and energy. Its production made all the instruments sound very tight, like they were playing together in a tiny, tiny room. In It for the Money took a totally different direction.

Instead of carrying on with the usual breakneck velocity, Money is made of songs that are allowed to breathe. Take a breeze and chill with some slower tempos. The tracks also sound expansive. There’s also a wider variety of instruments. But the group never lost their playfulness and knack for great tunes. The title track shows it all in the three minutes it lasts for and is a fantastic taster for what’s to come It opens the album with an creepy organ drone that transitions into a heavy Beatles-like arpeggiated riff and Gaz Coombes’ vocal.

“Here I see a time to go and leave it all behind/And you know it’s wrong to fall/We’re in it for the money” are three lyrics that when put read together like that don’t seem to make much sense, though Coombes and bassist Mick Quinn on higher harmony deliver them with a power and confidence that make them sound like a formal declaration. There’s a musical build as the last phrase is repeated before the song explodes into its main refrain. The track takes another turn as it leads into another verse of repeated lines, accompanied with a beautiful guitar line and descending bass groove. A glorious fanfare of horns appear. It’s beautiful stuff.

It comes to a very abrupt halt but you have to listen to the album from front to back to understand the effect of that production decision. Summing it up, this was the introduction to a new Supergrass back in ’97 – definitely not a case of the sophomore slump.

#603: The Beach Boys – I’m Waiting for the Day

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You ever come across an album where you feel that every song could be a single? The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds is the archetype of that kind of record. I’ve written about a few songs from the 1966 LP in the past, there will be more to come, and today’s post is about the album’s fifth track – ‘I’m Waiting for the Day’.

Brian Wilson had completed writing in the song in 1964 when The Beach Boys were still rooted in their ‘California, let’s go surfin” aesthetic. The track concerns a narrator who yearns to provide support for a girl who has had her heart broken by another person. It was clear that it did not fit The Beach Boys as they were in that year. However as the years went on the group turned toward more introspective and heartfelt lyricism which came to a head on Pet Sounds.

Placed right after the album’s slowest number, ‘I’m Waiting’ begins with booming timpanis and an overall uplifting introduction of flutes and a peeping organ before closing in on itself for the quieter verses where Wilson takes over with a beautiful lead vocal. The song’s quiet verse/loud chorus dynamic is a quality that was once noted by fellow band member Carl Wilson as a particular highlight and it’s hard to disagree with his sentiment. It’s very satisfying to hear that strike of the timpani after the first utterance of the song’s title followed by the addition of the Beach Boys’ glorious trademark harmonies take over the mix – and just as you think it could all burst at the seams the energy is sucked away and the focus is on Brian’s vocals again.

Talking about Brian Wilson’s vocals, he apparently wasn’t too happy with the way they turned out. He didn’t have a very strong feeling towards this song in general. The track doesn’t often get discussed to deeply. Perhaps Wilson’s attitude towards it is a reason. I still see it as a high point on a classic album.

#596: Blur – I’m Just a Killer for Your Love

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‘I’m Just a Killer for Your Love’ is the tenth track on Blur’s self-titled album, released in 1997. For anyone who owns that album and holds it in particular high regard, it’s not hard to notice the slight quality difference in terms of production between this track and all the other 13 songs it’s placed alongside. It has an almost monoaural mix compared to the somewhat expansive sounds in ‘Beetlebum‘ or ‘Death of a Party‘, it sounds like the recording was accidentally started after Dave Rowntree starts drumming, there’s a Beatles ‘Yer Blues‘ feel to it in that it sounds like the band are just in this one room close together busting this thing out.

Well, there’s a reason for this. It’s the only song on there not to be produced by Stephen Street. Apparently, it was the very last track that the band worked on for the album and something the four members knocked out whilst working in Damon Albarn’s then new ‘Studio 13’. The track is very loose, rough around the edges, very slack in its execution but oddly seductive too.

This song predates Gorillaz’s first album by a few years but there are a number of things about it that remind me of what would appear on that project’s 2001 debut. The lyrics are a number of surreal images that when put together appear to make a coherent story, Albarn’s played up (or toned down, however you see it) vocal delivery is something he would go on to develop and play with more with the project, and just in general it’s almost experimental in its weird way.

Pay attention to Alex James really forcing that wah-wah effect on his bass, that’s some good stuff.

#575: The Beach Boys – I Just Wasn’t Made for These Times

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You won’t find a lot of Beach Boys on my playlist. I have written a post about two of their songs before; those that I’ve yet to come to can all be listened to on the album Pet Sounds. Gotta love that album, very much a milestone in popular music.

At a time when artists were creating some far out music in the 60s, breaking boundaries and going an extra mile in terms of their sound and production, The Beach Boys – led by musical genius Brian Wilson – were drifting away from their usual surf-pop style and into a more grandiose and symphonic soundscape. People weren’t ready for that change. Not even a few of the group’s members themselves, which really got Brian Wilson down and continued to do so until he had a bit of a breakdown due to drugs and intense pressure. It was clear that something massive was happening, though why couldn’t anyone else see it?

That’s really what today’s track is about. Not solely about Wilson himself (well, obviously it is in a way), but for anyone who feel their ideas are to advanced for their peers to understand, are frustrated by the situation, and think that in another time their work would be appreciated. Quite the sticky subject. A very universal one too, I’m sure.

Took me a while to actually get into this track. It’s the most recent one from the album I decided to put on my phone. When I first listened to Pet Sounds the whole way through and proceeded to again a further few times, ‘These Times’ would start and I’d really wait for it to finish instead of really listening to its message and melodies. That was a mistake. I realised that, just like (almost) every other song on there, you give enough time to it and it slowly seeps into your mind. You’ve got the tremendous vocal group that overlap in that build-up to the chorus, and the instrumentation provided by The Wrecking Crew is perfect to a tee. And all of it was constructed by that expansive mind Brian Wilson possessed. Very admirable. Quite scary too.

My iPod #563: The Who – I Can See for Miles

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Another old one. ‘I Can See for Miles’ is the seventh track and single from The Who Sell Out – the band’s third album overall – released in late 1967. I’m in that group, figuratively speaking, that rates the album as one of their best. Well, a lot of people would say that too. But I think it’s miles better than Tommy. It doesn’t take itself too seriously. All four members have more or less equal vocal duties on here and sound like they’re having a good time on every song (all 23 of them if you own the 1995 remaster/remixed edition). Plus this was the apex of The Who’s power-pop phase before they became the hard rock staple from the 70s onwards. Every song is just very entertaining.

The song concerns a narrator who, in basic terms, does not like to be taken for a fool and is number one when it comes to being observant but this is exaggerated to make it seem as if they are an all-seeing entity that can see far beyond any boundary. ‘I Can See for Miles’ is meant to sound massive. Pete Townshend described it as “the raunchiest, loudest, most ridiculous rock and roll record you’ve ever heard”. In some ways, the performance lives up to its description. I’m sure there are at least two drum takes by the manic Keith Moon on here, with drum rolls and various cymbal crashes overdubbed for full effect. It contains a memorable chorus characterised by rising vocal harmonies. There’s a guitar solo that consists of only one note. And there’s a key change for the last verse and chorus. You’d think it had everything to make it a great hit.

Apparently not. It peaked at ten in both the British and American singles charts in its day. Some would be thrilled about that, but Townshend was not too particularly happy. Despite how well (or not so) it did commercially, one can’t deny its audacity and ferocity. It also influenced Paul McCartney to write ‘Helter Skelter’ which is not so bad.

Below is a clearly mimed performance the band did for French TV in 1968.