Tag Archives: in

#620: The Cure – In Between Days

I heard this song in an advert way before I even knew who The Cure were. Possibly in about 2003. I was eight years old. If I can remember correctly, it was an advert for ‘best driving songs’ CD or something along those lines. It had to do with a car. Only about 15 seconds of the song were played; those seconds consisted of the rushing guitar and synths from the song’s intro. It would be many years later that I would listen to the whole song, purely by coincidence when it’s video played on the television one day. Just exactly when, I can’t say.

‘In Between Days’ is the song’s name. Performed by The Cure, as I have mentioned already, it opens the group’s 1985 album The Head on the Door – arguably their most accessible effort just because of the catchy and immediate all of the songs are. ‘Between Days’ is a bit of a rush. Very quick, propelled by brisk acoustic guitars and a strong rhythm. It’s done just as soon as you’re getting into it, I feel. But it still has a lot going for it that you’re not let down when it comes to the eventual fade out.

It’s another of those where I’ve never bothered to overtly analyse the lyrics again, but I always assumed it was about getting older and losing touch with someone you felt deeply for. That’s just from the first verse and a few lines in the chorus. He would actually focus on that subject emphatically on Disintegration I’ve seen interpretations saying it’s about an affair and Robert Smith’s asking for his true love to come back after she finds out. That could be true. I just like the music to be honest. I’ve always gathered a happy but sad mood from its tone.

#619: The Band – In a Station

I’m not a massive follower of The Band. I do have to admit that their self-titled album from 1969 is great though. Has a lot of great songs on there that I haven’t talked about but will in the future. Until last year that was the only album of theirs that I listened to. Music from Big Pink, the album that today’s song is taken from, is all right in my eyes. The follow-up is much better. Though it must be said that Big Pink is probably one of the most important releases of the 60s. A lot of contemporaneous groups were influenced by its organic qualities and noted it as a way forward in music following the heavy psychedelia of 1967.

‘In a Station’ is the third number on here, written and sung by the band’s pianist Richard Manuel. The Band had three main singers: Manuel, drummer Levon Helm, and bassist Rick Danko. Out of the three, Manuel arguably had the best voice. He had a lot of soul in it. Very vulnerable and his delivery could be devastatingly heartbreaking on some songs. That’s not too different here. Manuel sings about walking through a station, noting what he sees and what he hears and wonders if the people he witnesses would ever care to have any sort of personal interaction with him. It’s quite an existential track topped with vivid imagery and quasi-philosophical lyricism.

The main focus musically is all in that centre channel where Manuel’s vocal is along with those rich keyboards by Garth Hudson and the rhythm section. Then Danko and Helm join in for some fantastic harmonies in the choruses. Robbie Robertson’s acoustic guitar is on the right and Manuel’s rhythm keyboard is on the left but they’re really hard to notice when you’re listening to the melodies in the vocal. It’s a very sincere song; it can really take you out of yourself for a few minutes.

#618: The Who – In a Hand or a Face

‘In a Hand or a Face’ closes out The Who by Numbers, The Who’s seventh album released back in 1975. It goes that Pete Townshend, the band’s guitarist and main songwriter, was severely depressed and suicidal during the making of the record. He quit drinking after a long period of severe alcoholism. He was having an existential crisis due to the fear of turning 30 and wondering if he was getting to old for the whole ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ thing. The album as a result has some of Townshend’s most personal, soul-seeking material on there. After nine tracks, including one written by bassist John Entwistle, ‘In a Hand’ sees Townshend at breaking point despite the triumphant confidence with which the music is delivered.

An emphatic crash cymbal and chunky guitar riff begin the song before a thunderous drum roll gets the rhythm going alongside a salutary opening guitar solo. The song is relatively simple. It’s mostly three chords. But there’s an assertive behind every note, chord, and drum fill played that makes the song sound very nonchalant and unfazed. Lyrics-wise, Townshend writes about seeing people in various situations and trying to put himself in their shoes. He asks the listener whether they’ve ever hard the same experiences and self-assesses where he’s at in comparison. His conclusion? He was “going round and round”.

A pulsating rhythm section break marks the song’s key change, and Roger Daltrey, Townshend, and Entwistle repeat its main refrain before the instruments ring out on an unresolved chord. I guess Townshend was in so much of a spiral at the time he didn’t know where he was going. With The Who, with his life…. It wasn’t a great time to be him.

#593: Ween – I’m Dancing in the Show Tonight

Ween members Gene Ween and Dean Ween both agree that their 1997 album The Mollusk is the best project the band put to tape. I agree with them on most days; for me it is always a close race between it and Quebec. I do hold the The Mollusk in high regard for sentimental reasons too; it was the first full album by Ween that I ever listened to about five years ago.  At the time I felt that I was in a bit of a lull, listening to the same artists over and over, so I decided to look for an album that I hadn’t heard before. ‘Ocean Man’ had been in my iTunes library for some time too, I downloaded it after hearing it in the ending credits of the OG SpongeBob movie, so it only made sense to hear all the other songs around it.

‘I’m Dancing in the Show Tonight’ is the first track on The Mollusk. For a lot of reasons, it shouldn’t work. No band should get away with opening any album with a kitschy, vaudeville show tune. That’s what ‘I’m Dancing in the Show Tonight’ is. But it’s executed so well that it never gets annoying. For the sub-2 minutes it lasts for it builds and builds. Starting off with a piano and the vocals, it steadily progresses as percussion and horns are thrown in and by the end it’s a huge singalong with a fake but emphatic string section. It may confuse some first time listeners, but there’s no time to really think because then the title track suddenly starts like nothing never happened. It’s a brave move. I really enjoy it, I think it’s great.

The track is basically a rip of the Christmas song ‘Are My Ears on Straight?’, sung by Gayla Peevey in 1953, with a few lyrical differences. The band full out admit this on the album’s liner notes though they have yet to be punished for it. Not that I want them to, don’t be silly.

#580: Ween – I Saw Gener Cryin’ in His Sleep

Not a very festive or momentous song for the coming new year, I know. But these things aren’t planned. I just do whatever song is next on my phone. And on this New Year’s Eve the track is ‘I Saw Gener Cryin’ in His Sleep’, the thirteenth track on Ween’s major-label debut Pure Guava.

For any Ween fan reading (quite unlikely) wondering where I would place Pure Guava in my favourite albums of the band, I’ll say to you that it probably isn’t in my top five of theirs. To me it just feels like The Pod Part 2, though with less songs and… a bigger sound to it maybe? There’s a larger emphasis on grooves and the drums on Guava, but The Pod in itself is just a lot more interesting and has a lot more variety – no matter how out there it is. I only have four songs from Guava on my phone and for some reason ‘I Saw Gener’, which I feel a lot of people would probably skip over after a while, popped out to me on that first album listen in 2015 or so.

I guess it’s because Ween are known for being this silly band who make a lot of silly stuff (even though their music is actually amazing and you should listen to anything of theirs as soon as you can) and this song details an instance where things aren’t as they seem. Dean Ween – real name Mickey Melchiondo, affectionately known as Deaner by Ween fans – sings about seeing bandmate Gene Ween crying in his sleep and offers some advice to help him through bad times. It’s all a bit heavy.

However, it’s shoddily recorded and set to upbeat, bouncy music which completely overshadows the downbeat lyricism. The drum machines skip out of time and some points, the drum machine cymbals thrash about wildly, there’s some piercing feedback after the first chorus. It’s a great listen. It makes it so funny, but it’s not supposed to be. It’s so conflicting. But that’s the beauty of many a Ween song.

That’s the end of 2017. Hard to believe I revived this back in August when I was stuck at home relentlessly searching for jobs online. Now I have one. I start next week. Hopefully this is the start of something special. Will see you in 2018. Many more songs to come.