Tag Archives: it

#1432: Blur – Turn It Up

Leave a reply

Here it is, one of the worst Blur songs the band ever did. Or so you may have been led to believe. Allegedly, when it comes to ‘Turn It Up’, the second-last song on Modern Life Is Rubbish, the one thing agreed amongst Damon Albarn, Graham Coxon, Alex James and Dave Rowntree is the hate they have for it. There’s no interview confirming this consensus (that I can find). But you can at least find an one with Albarn in which he says, “[Young and Lovely] should have been on the LP. But it didn’t get on there and fucking ‘Turn It Up’ did.” I’ve got a good grasp of the English language to know that any noun prefaced by an intensifier of ‘fucking’ is not being referred to in a good way. ‘Turn It Up’ is a bit of an odd one on Modern Life… It doesn’t fit with the British social commentary theme that runs through the LP. It does feel a little like something that would have been a shoo-in on the previous, debut album Leisure. Judging by the following linked performance, it was one of the first new songs written after that album’s release. But I want to assure you, as a fan of music of all kinds, but predominantly rock as you could tell from everything else on this blog, ‘Turn It Up’ is a great, great time.

In terms of the lyrical content, ‘Turn It Up’ doesn’t really go anywhere and it doesn’t mean anything. “Kazoo, kazoo, you are mine / Kazoo, kazoo, every time”, “Kazoo, kazoo, your reply / Why do you turn your back on me?”. All a bunch of nonsense. Probably an added reason as to why Albarn in particular does not care for the track in any way. Despite this, he sings every lyric within very nicely, alongside Coxon on the higher harmonies. There are great melodies throughout. And the production behind it all is absolutely massive. Mega. There’s an explosiveness to the band’s performance than there has any right to be on a song like this. I’d had Modern Life Is Rubbish in the iTunes library since 2013, but it was a revisit a couple years later that really turned me on to ‘Turn It Up’. The revisit made me pay more attention to the chord changes, the track’s different sections and the various guitar licks Graham Coxon was pulling off throughout. It pricked my ear towards the thunderous drum work by Dave Rowntree, he’s going all over the place, rapid-fire snare rolls and tom-tom strikes abound. Just made me gain a general appreciation for the track I didn’t have before. Even as a “lesser” track, it’s one of the reasons Modern Life… is my favourite of the three “Life” albums Blur did in the mid-’90s.

Graham Coxon once broke down Modern Life…, listening to each individual track and picking out elements a little harder to hear than the average listener may want to. The flickering guitar at the beginning was created by Coxon leaning his guitar against an amp and feeding it through a tremolo pedal. There’s a rattling triangle somewhere in the mix. I think it’s the high frequency of that which adds the trance-inducing quality in the “Kazoo, kazoo” pre-choruses. And the little guitar run he executes before the first pre-chorus is filtered through a wah-wah pedal. The breakdown is a good watch. I’ve kind of run out of things to say here. Sure, ‘Turn It Up’ doesn’t have anything of huge consequence in terms of a narrative, nor in terms of its placement on the album. It’s stuck in that slot in the track list when you’re gearing up for the ending and waiting in anticipation to see how the package finishes. It feels like it’s one of those “we wrote this and our label really likes it, but we don’t” kind of songs. A lot of side-eyeing in this track’s direction. But what it lacks for in importance, it more than makes up for in its intense energy and forceful performance.

#1431: Death from Above 1979 – Turn It Out

Leave a reply

I remember being really excited for the release of The Physical World when that was to be the new, long-awaited second album by Death from Above 1979, back in 2014. Looking back, it was a bit of a bandwagon move. I didn’t follow the band during their original run together between 2001 and 2006, although I recall my sister singing ‘Black History Month’ a whole bunch. It was a single, she must have heard it somewhere. Years later I sort of fell into the sort of myth-like quality behind the duo. Sebastien Grainger and Jesse F. Keeler made and released You’re a Woman, I’m a Machine in 2004, eventually fell out with each other and split up a couple years later. That album was their only album for a long time, looked like it would only ever be their sole LP. Along the way, a band like Royal Blood – another duo made of a bass guitarist and drummer – showed up, and even though I never properly listened to them, I’d still think, “Death from Above did it first.” So when The Physical World was announced, it was like, “Yeah, now time to show ’em all how it’s done.” I had to do some learning. I did some homework via listening to You’re a Woman… in the lead-up to The Physical World‘s release.

‘Turn It Out’ starts the album off, and damn, what an opener. Soon as Keeler’s bass guitar comes thundering in, squeals and all in between, alongside Grainger’s drums, my face is scrunched up and my head is banging. If ever I’m walking down the street and the song comes on in the headphones, I need people to get out of the way – while this song is on, my head is down and I’m charging to where I need to get to. I think that’s helped by the fact that “I’m on the move, mother” is the lyric for what I guess is the chorus. Guessing, because it’s a very short one. There aren’t a lot of words in this song in general, looking at it. Maybe seven lines delivered by a wailing Grainger, all to do with a “I’d like to sit and chat, but time’s of the essence and I’ve got somewhere I need to go” feeling. But what it lacks in lyrical content is made up for by the bass guitar riffage and pummeling rhythms delivered in the two-and-a-half-minute length. The bass line sharply switches between low and high notes. Grainger’s pounding on the tom-toms. Those climbing bass runs during the “chorus” are killer. Everything’s an onslaught, with no time to relax until both members strike their respective instruments at the song’s end. The cymbals are left sizzling. It’s a spicy opening track.

Some songs on You’re a Woman… I’d come across already before digging into it. The video for ‘Romantic Rights’ would pop up now and again on MTV2. I once watched the video for ‘Blood on Your Hands’ out of the corner of my eye. It got to the part where the music stops and the little waiting-room-ish interlude begins after. I didn’t know what was going on. But a few listens to the whole song in the album’s context secured it as a strong, strong favourite of mine. And I owned Saints Row 2. ‘Sexy Results’ was on the game’s soundtrack. As a whole, I enjoyed the album quite a bit, hearing it that first time in the summer of 2014. It’s not one I return to all that often now. I think I have to be in the mood to hear some songs about get-togethers, relationships and the like set to thick bass lines. I don’t find myself in that kind of mood all that often. I’d say You’re a Woman… is something of a young man’s album. It’s all in the name too. I’m not the machine this album is probably aimed for. These things I just have to come to terms with.

#1365: Röyksopp – This Must Be It

Leave a reply

By the Autumn of 2009, Röyksopp’s third album, Junior, had been released and available to purchase for a few months. I was on a Beatles trip during that part of the year and can’t remember checking anything out that was new and current at the time. But I was aware of the goings-on of Röyksopp. Earlier in the year, ‘Happy Up Here’ had been released as the first single from Junior. I remember enjoying that one massively, think I played it on repeat a fair few times once I pirated it of a website. ‘The Girl and the Robot’ followed as the second single. Got a feeling its video played on MTV2 a few times. Being an avid FIFA series follower like I was back then, I got the most recent game – which would have been FIFA 10 – and lo and behold, Röyksopp was on the game’s soundtrack, with album closer ‘It’s What I Want’ chosen by the people at EA Sports to include. The duo just seemed to be within my peripheral vision in 2009, and I wasn’t complaining ’cause the songs were good.

Now, ‘This Must Be It’ was released as Junior‘s third and final single in that Autumn of 2009. I want to say I saw its music video actually on TV maybe once or twice around the time it was due to come out. But after that, until maybe 2018 or 2019, I had honestly forgotten the song existed. And not because it was bad or anything. I was too busy listening to the Beatles and probably working on the YouTube channel I had at the time. Why I revisited the track in either 2018 or 2019, I’m really not too sure. I know that’s what you guys read these for, to know the things I can’t remember. I think it was simply a matter of looking up Junior, seeing ‘This Must Be It’ was a single, thinking “I really can’t remember how this song goes at all” and taking a listen. It wasn’t really a special occasion. Whatever the spark behind my decision was, I’m glad it was there because I find it to be a very enjoyable track. A real bop. Once the beat gets going, I can’t help but nod my end along to it until the eventual end.

The song features the vocals of Karin Dreijer, you may know them as Fever Ray or one half of The Knife. I’ve never done a deep dive into either acts, but I honestly should. In the few songs I know sung by Dreijer, I’m always drawn toward their vocal delivery and melodies. There’s still time for a whole discography discovery. Anyway, ‘This Must Be It’ sees Dreijer, I think, write about waiting for a couple of people to arrive – I’m guessing friends rather than strangers – and getting bored in the process, but then feeling at peace once they finally do and have a good time together. That’s just this simple guy’s interpretation. The string of evocative lyrics make the whole situation sound much more ethereal and otherworldly. It’s like the whole thing’s taking place in space, the song sounds so wide and expansive. With the Dreijer’s reverb-drenched vocal and the spacey production, anchored by the entrancing four-on-the-floor rhythm, it all makes for a very mesmerising experience. How could I have forgotten about this one? Seems silly thinking about it now.

#1364: Billy Talent – This Is How It Goes

Leave a reply

Christmas Day 2006 was when I received both the first Billy Talent album and Billy Talent II as gifts. I was very happy. My experience with the band’s debut album was either through listening to 30-second samples of its songs on a site called artistdirect.com – which no longer exists – or hearing one of them on the rare occasion it played on the Launch.com radio service. But now I had the whole package in my hands. I think it might have been the enhanced CD, a video player that when on to show a little EPK came onto the screen when I popped the disc into the computer. There’s still a couple songs left to write about from Billy Talent, but I’ll say now that I still consider this one of my favourite albums ever, I know almost every word on it from front to back. Lot of angst and anger, a lot of screaming, it could easily be slotted as one of those “It’s not a phase, Mom” albums. But I can put it on today and just let it roll to its end. It goes in… so hard.

‘This Is How It Goes’ is the very first song. The band introduces themselves one-by-one, Ian D’Sa on the guitar, Aaron Solowoniuk with the hi-hats – being the drummer and all – and Jon Gallant’s bass line before leaping into the killer riff that leaps all over the guitar neck, which eventually goes on to play underneath the upcoming choruses. I’m a fan of Ben Kowalewicz’s vocals. A common complaint I’d usually witness from roaming around online back in the day was how grating some people found his voice to be. And to be fair, I could probably see where they’re coming from. But I couldn’t imagine any other tone than the high-pitched, bratty kind he has while delivering the lyrics on this track. He sings, with Ian D’Sa harmonising on certain phrases, before abruptly launching into the screaming tirade that makes up the chorus, everyone in the band comes in together, increasing the intensity with the aforementioned riff playing underneath. A freakin’ juggernaut of energy, such a great way to open up a whole discography, let alone one album.

One thing I found out as soon as I got into ‘…How It Goes’ was how it was written about drummer Aaron Solowoniuk and his battle with multiple sclerosis. He’s very rarely plays the drums with the band in a live setting now and didn’t on their last two albums due to MS relapse in 2016. While the track doesn’t specifically detail Solowoniuk’s experiences, it’s written to give a general sense of how much a burden it could be to live with the illness. Frustration, self-doubt, irritation. All captured in these three-and-a-half minutes. The band had the track in the works when they originally went under the name Pezz. I want to say I read some kind of interview or article where one bandmember said that once they had got this song down, it pretty much set the direction truly wanted to take their music – more toward a darker and brooding energy rather than the lighter and maybe less focused style they had exhibited on their Watoosh! album. I say “maybe” ’cause I like that album too and don’t see it as less focused at all. But it’s fair to say Pezz became Billy Talent when the four of them came up with this song right here.

#1232: The BPA ft. Olly Hite – So It Goes

Leave a reply

It’s been a while since Norman Cook, mostly known to you and me as Fatboy Slim, released an album. The producer’s fourth LP Palookaville was released back in 2004, and that’s still his most recent one to this day. Under the Fatboy Slim name that is. What I don’t think a lot of people know is that in 2008, he and good friend Simon Thorton got together, recruited a number of artists and musicians and made an album with ’em entitled I Think We’re Gonna Need a Bigger Boat, under the moniker of ‘The Brighton Port Authority’. The BPA for short. But to make the whole affair a little more interesting, the story was invented that the album was actually a compilation of recordings made in the ’70s that had been long-lost until they were found in a box next to a warehouse that was in development. Quite funny when you realise most of the guests on there probably weren’t born until a decade after.

…Bigger Boat is bookended by two covers. As it begins with Iggy Pop singing The Monochrome Set’s ‘He’s Frank’, it goes on to end with ‘So It Goes’, a take on the Nick Lowe original, sung by Olly Hite. While that Lowe original contains more of a rollicking, swinging ’70s power pop feel, the ‘So It Goes’ by the BPA and Olly Hite goes for the warm and intimate approach, similar to that you’d find in an NPR Tiny Desk concert or something. Hite sings alongside a tastefully played Rhodes piano that mirrors the chord progression of Lowe’s guitar in the original. The idea that it’s being performed live is reinforced by the cheering, handclaps and adlibbing by various people in the background, who then go on to applaud Hite as he sings the final words and steps away from the microphone. Other Norman Cook/Simon Thornton production tricks occur throughout, but not so much that they get in the way of the bittersweet end-of-the-night, time-to-go-home mood the track gives out.

According to Lowe, the song isn’t about anything much and is just a bunch of interesting words strung together, though was influenced by Thin Lizzy’s ‘The Boys Are Back in Town’. Though if you want to try and get something out of it, the three verses respectively describe scenes at a music show, a political meeting in the Twin Towers, and I think the embrace between a couple of some kind. With the chorus stating “And so it goes, but where it’s going no one knows”, maybe the whole track’s a comment on how these things happen in life, life goes on until you die, and what happens after death is anyone’s guess. Whereas the original fades out on the lyric, here Hite turns the words from “no one knows” to “I don’t know”, switching the perspective around to leave the album on a sweet, personal note. It looks more and more unlikely that Norman Cook will make another album again. But if this were to “his” last song… for the time being, I wouldn’t be too mad at it.