Tag Archives: kid

#1219: The Who – Slip Kid

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Sometime in 2012 when I should have really been focusing on studying for my A-Levels but also going through what I think was a sort of depression at the time, I got round to listening to The Who by Numbers. Wikipedia showed that this was the album that the band came back with after Quadrophenia two years before, and through listening it became clear why the record was named the way it was. It was no rock opera like Tommy or Quadrophenia. There was no overarching theme tying the songs like on …Sell Out. No, this time round was a standard, simple ten-track album brought to you by the four bandmembers, just under 40 minutes, doing what they did best. No sign of pretension to be found.

During the album’s sessions, guitarist and songwriter Pete Townshend turned 30. Feeling the pressures of feeling like an old man in the young man’s game of rock and roll and becoming heavily disillusioned with it all, he laid out his feelings in the tracks that would go on to make up …by Numbers. The album begins with ‘Slip Kid’, a warning to the kids who were looking to get into the music business disguised as a track about a young man who has to go to war alongside these older people who have led a long life and are providing this unwanted advice. I’m sure that the whole track is one big metaphor, to be honest. I think the crucial line that really tells what Townshend’s message is in the final lines when Roger Daltrey sings, “You’re sliding down the hill like me” a nod to being “over the hill” which the whole album goes on to delve into for the next half-hour.

The song begins with a loop of handclaps and percussion (cowbell on the left, tom-toms on the right) which persists throughout, with the rest of the band joining in together after a swift count-in by Townshend. Two simultaneous riffs provided by premier session player Nick Hopkins on the piano and Townshend on guitar get things going, before Daltrey gets his gritty vocals. Just in the introduction alone, there’s enough memorable melodies to go around. Daltrey’s tougher vocals contrast with the softer tones of Townshend and John Entwistle’s backing harmonies with fine effect. The latter’s bass line is one to recognise as per usual, particularly how it mirrors the backing vocals during outro. And unusually Keith Moon takes a bit of a backseat on the drums, staying mainly on the hi-hat and snare. Slip Kid’s a very steady number. Doesn’t announce itself with a bang like ‘The Real Me’ or possess the wait of anticipation like ‘Baba O’Riley’, but does the job in its own firm, secure way.

#1210: Pavement – Silence Kit

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Now, hear me out. I know this song’s recognised to be officially called ‘Silence Kid‘. But for a long time, it was referred to as ‘Silence Kit’ because, on the original artwork, an accidental ink splodge caused the ‘d’ to look more like a ‘t’. I’ve seen that original artwork and, to me, it doesn’t even look like it was meant to resemble a ‘d’ in the first place. Even so, I’ve become so used to having ‘kit’ on my computer, phone, whatever for all this time, it doesn’t seem right to change it to what’s supposedly the correct title. And plus the band refer to it by the “wrong” title in their setlists sometimes. So when it comes down to it, I don’t think there’s any right way to refer to this tune. At least that’s what I’ll keep on telling myself.

The track is the opener on Pavement’s Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, the band’s second album, released in 1994. One of my personal favourite LPs flat out, I gotta say. Everything about Pavement is right up there to me. Why do I like the album so much? I can’t really say in much depth. It’s simply one good song after another, all of them takes on genres of the past that frontman Stephen Malkmus wasn’t so fond of, like some country rock by the Eagles or general classic rock, while also paying homage to others. Listening through is always a good time and, as I said, it all begins with ‘Silence Kit’. I’ve come to think of this track as a tribute to the quiet people out there who are just trying to get through their days, doing their own thing and having big plans for the future. Ambitions and all. But then things take a detour in the outro, where a drummer is introduced into the fold, they take ecstasy and end up masturbating after the show. And then the song ends. An unexpected shift in tone, for sure. But you gotta like it. Could be done a lot worse.

What initially starts with the band messing around for the first 20 seconds really bursts into life after, with that fuzzy guitar blasting out the song’s main riff. I’ve noticed that ‘Silence Kit’ almost has a very monoaural mix to it. The main guitar, drums and bass guitar are all in the centre, alongside Malkmus’s vocal of course. Kinda gives that ’60s vibe where mono was the way to go in terms of album recordings. Gives the track that extra punch. But there’s also a guitar overdub on the left that balances things out. I want to say I want to hear another Malkmus vocal underneath it all. It’s buried in the mix, but comes in clearer during the “Talk about your family” verse. The melody Malkmus sings with is slightly lifted from Buddy Holly’s ‘Everyday’. Whether this was intentional, no one really knows. But I wouldn’t be surprised if there was at least a little influence. On an album that’s kinda spoofing the classic rock of America, it wouldn’t be amiss to make a nod to one of the pioneers of rock and roll in the ’50s. A fine, fine opener introducing the world to what was then a new Pavement with Steve ‘Westie’ West now on the drums.

#693: Radiohead – Kid A

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The title track from Radiohead’s fourth album is a strange one. At least that’s what I thought of it when I first listened to it. I’ve just grown to like it because of its unsettling nature. I was a child in 2000 so I can only imagine how people who were expecting an OK Computer Part 2 reacted when hearing Kid A upon its initial release. 2012 was when I decided to take it on. I didn’t think ‘Everything in Its Right Place’ was too out there, but ‘Kid A’ certainly takes things in another direction.

The music, written by the band’s lead guitarist Jonny Greenwood, has an innocent child-like music box quality to it, which is layered upon by these soothing guitar chords that feel very warm and very comfortable. Then Thom Yorke comes in. He had some lyrics for the song that he didn’t want to sing. Instead, he spoke them into the microphone and Greenwood improvised a melody when processing the vocal through an Ondes Martenot. As a result, Yorke’s voice as a robotic tone to it that greatly contrasts with the comforting music box notes that persist throughout.

The lyrics, like many others, were assembled randomly after having been written and cut up. There aren’t many present on the track. There are six phrases throughout: “I slipped away/I slipped on a little white lie/We’ve got heads on sticks and you’ve got ventriloquists/Standing in the shadows at the end of my bed/The rats and children follow me out of town/Come on kids”. Very dark, visual and mysterious imagery on show. Clearly, there aren’t a lot of lyrics either. But the group are still able to make something grand out of very little. That’s a reoccurring theme throughout the album.

With a piercing wail, the song comes to an end and transitions into ‘The National Anthem’, which takes the unsettling tones to another level.