Tag Archives: know

#1360: Ween – Things You Already Know

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In the space of two weeks in October 2015, I went from having one full downloaded album by Ween on my laptop to having seven. That time, the Autumn/Winter of that year into 2016, was when I fell deep into the work of misters Gene and Dean Ween and found myself having a “new” band to fawn over. The stars were aligning too. It was during that period the band got back together after Gene had left the band in 2012 to focus on his sobriety. It was like someone out there wanted me to start listening to them to prepare me for good times ahead. Once I’d gone through their studio albums, I found myself wanting more. Very luckily, Ween are one of those bands who literally have hundreds and hundreds of songs recorded that never made it onto albums. A noteworthy compilation of some of these is The Caesar Demos, originally shared on Facebook by Dean Ween in August 2011, containing cutting-room-floor tunes and demos made around the time the band were working on their 2003 album Quebec. That compilation is the source of today’s subject.

‘Things You Already Know’ is a song about that good, old situation of unrequited love. Or to put it simply for today’s generation, it’s about a simp. The narrator in ‘Things…’ wishes to woo their subject of interest by diffusing a mob, sailing them around the world in a yacht and promising them the moon and stars. A set of seemingly impossible tasks. It’s not meant to be taken literally, these are all just ways of saying that they’ll do anything to win the heart of this other person. It’s an obsession, one where the narrator seems to think that the other party is aware of the narrator’s advances when it’s very likely that this isn’t the case at all. The narrator takes it personally when, in the final verse, they see their crush with another man, trying to deflect it as a “Your loss, you didn’t get with me” type of deal when inside they’re hurting bad. Thinking about it now, it’s really the “grown-up” version of ‘Nan’ from the band’s first album. Both songs follow an obsessed narrator, who detail their misguided fascinations on a lady before facing reality and feeling slighted as a result. Both very entertaining in their own respective ways.

Had the song been fleshed out, I’m sure it would have been a shoe-in for the final tracklist of Quebec. But it wasn’t. I guess you could say it’s a little repetitive. The melodies are the same from verse to verse, chorus to chorus. The dualling guitar solo mirrors them. It’s anchored by the bouncing drum machine pattern. But it all sounds so good. And Gene Ween sings it in earnest too. It goes down as one of the great Ween tunes left on the cutting room floor. Those Ween fans who know about ‘Things…’ love the track, and I think I had an instant attraction to it when I heard it that first time. I have a memory of sitting behind an iMac at work and listening through this video of The Caesar Demos while doing something else. I went and downloaded the second “disc” of the compilation on 24th October 2015, mainly ’cause of the trifecta of ‘Eulogy for David Anderson’, this track, and ‘Hello Johnny’ on there. Those three alone can make my day. There’s still so much more on that compilation that displays the range of Ween’s creativity in that relatively small two-year span it took to make one of their most popular albums.

#992: Arctic Monkeys – Only Ones Who Know

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I can recall really not caring for this track at all upon first listen in 2007. I was 12, all pepped up/full of energy, and I didn’t have time for slow songs. But as the years have passed and the hands of time have gripped on my shoulders, ‘Only Ones Who Know’ has slowly revealed itself to become one of my favourites from Favourite Worst Nightmare. Sometimes you need the slower songs just to release the tension. To wallow in and absorb the moments. And ‘Only Ones…’ does both those things, arriving right in the middle of the record as the sort of soothing interlude to close out the album’s first half.

The two main instruments utilised throughout are Alex Turner and Jamie Cook’s reverb-drenched guitars, one being the rhythm that provides the song’s chord progression and the other providing an almost weeping, violin-like tone to accentuate the intro’s melody. Turner comes in with the vocal eventually, crooning about a couple who, somehow, against all odds, seem to have really got it down and are perfect for one another. At least from what he sees anyway. They appear to have the inside jokes and small subtle ticks that only they can relate to, the sentiment of which I believe lends the track its title. Other people just won’t understand.

Fair to say, Alex Turners whole M.O. was writing observational tracks about couples and people in love and out of it in those times that people may consider to be the best years of Arctic Monkeys. Is it possible that he didn’t get more sincere and emotionally earnest than in this song? I think so. Show me another one of theirs. It’s good to discuss. To me, some of Arctic Monkeys earlier stuff I can’t listen to in the same way. They remind me of being way younger and the whole indie rock music scene of those times. But it’s tunes like this one that showed why they were considered to be head-and-shoulders above the rest during that period.

#988: Bob Dylan – One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)

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Like other double albums, Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde contains tracks that I can give two thumbs up to. Others not so much. But I’m very sure that when I first heard the album many years back, like 2013 or something, ‘One of Us Must Know’ was one that caught my ear straight away. It was clearly a track that Dylan recognised some potential in himself, as it was selected to be the first single to be released from the album, months in advance. What probably piqued my ears the most was Dylan’s voice. His exaggerated nasal delivery would give comedians and sitcom writers material to go to town with for years to come, particularly the way he uses it throughout this whole album. But it’s certainly unique and leaves its mark. “Sooner or later, one of us must know” sounds much better as “SoOOoneeeer or lAaaterrrrr, ooOone of us must knooOOoooow”. That’s the best way I can capture Dylan’s delivery.

As I’ve come to understand it, it’s from the point of view of a guy who’s pondering on a relationship that ended. Though the clues were there that things were coming to a close, the narrator here seemed to be oblivious to them all. It’s also made clear that he himself was to blame for at least some part of what went on, but, as men usually do, he sort of brushes it off and tries to make it as if the other half is taking things too personally. This is a narrator who has their faults, but they want to make clear that anything they did was never on purpose and that their heart was always in the right place. The other half ends it all, and he realises that it’s just the way it goes sometimes and no malice has been left over. Now, that’s how I’ve always seen it. But now I’m seeing that it may also be one long metaphor alluding to Dylan’s move from acoustic folk music to electric rock that annoyed a lot of people back in the day. Gotta love interpretations.

Musically, I guess I should point you to the piano, played throughout by session musician Paul Griffin. Particularly during those choruses where he’s really flowing up and down the keys, Griffin’s piano is very much the lead instrument for this one. During the low-key verses, the organ played by Al Kooper will rise in the mix with a little melodic hook here and there. And as the end of those verses come closer, there’s a massive increase in intensity that is then released with the gratifying choruses. Then Dylan closes it all out with a jubilant harmonica solo. It’s good stuff, very nice with the dynamics. It’s only the fourth track on Blonde on Blonde, so there’s still a lot more to come within the context of the record. But when you consider that it closes out the first side of the vinyl before you flipped it over to hear side two, it’s a fine way to finish things off. Just for that little bit.

#655: R.E.M. – It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

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If I were to take a guess, I think I sing this song the same way that the majority of people who know it do. The first three lines are easy as pie, then every verse that follows is just a lot of words smushed up together into a one note melody which is then followed by the very memorable chorus.

‘It’s the End of the World’ is one of R.E.M.’s most well known tracks, one of their most played too – to the point that it may be overplayed for some people. But I only started properly listening to R.E.M. last year. I had heard the song maybe two… three times before? I’ll say five at most. And that was when its video was shown on TV. And in Chicken Little. Actually listening to it with headphones was a very different experience.

‘End of the World’ is the sixth track on R.E.M.’s fifth album, Document, released in 1987. It is not my favourite album of the group’s but this song right here is one of its highlights. The uploaded video above takes all the weight out of the audio quality though which is a shame. When those thunderous drum rolls come in at the beginning, the energy never dips from there. It’s four minutes of relentless, driving momentum. And though I never succeed in enunciating every syllable in the quickfire verses, it’s always fun to try. As said earlier, it doesn’t really matter because it has a hell of a chorus that’s not related to what goes on in those verses in any way.

Going through R.E.M.’s discography (which I had to when I found out they were actually very good) there were a few things I picked up on, especially in their earlier albums. They had a knack for great melodies. And the triple vocal harmonies of Michael Stipe, Mike Mills and Bill Berry added a layer that made the band’s songs even better when they were utilised. Melodies and harmonies are present on this track… a few countermelodies too. There’s always something new to pick up on in this track every time I hear it. It’s such a thrill. It’s quite disappointing when it starts to fade out at the end, wish it could go on for ages.

#576: The Beach Boys – I Know There’s an Answer

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Hey everybody. Been a while since the last post…. I dunno… Just been lacking in motivation recently. With all this music you’d think I’d have stuff to say all the time, and at a consistent rate too. Sometimes I have to really be into it to even open WordPress up. It’s all good today though. Also, I graduated this week. Tuesday to be exact. The ceremony was great, but if it wasn’t clear that I had finished university since I moved out in June it definitely is now. And it’s all slowly setting in. Quietly catching up. An existential crisis looms. So that’s what’s up with me.

The last post on here was another song by The Beach Boys, I know. That’s just the way it’s sorted on my phone, can’t to anything about it. ‘Tis a fine one though, to be sure.

‘I Know There’s an Answer’ is the ninth song on the group’s seminal 1966 album Pet Sounds, and again showcases Brian Wilson’s prodigious musicality with a soundscape of woodwind, horns and booming percussion. Originally the track was written as ‘Hang on to Your Ego’, in reaction to the effects that Brian Wilson – and many, many others in those times – would experience when taking LSD. I’ll put that version down below.

Not being one to partake in those activities, Wilson’s bandmate and cousin Mike Love objected to the song’s drug references and suggested that its title and some lyrics be changed. ‘Ego’ became ‘Answer’ and the beat goes on. I do prefer ‘Answer’ all the way. Something about it just sounds a lot fuller. The vocals in particular. Love sings the first line of the song, Al Jardine sings the following lines, and then Wilson takes on the track’s main refrain. It’s a very cool delivery. Not only do all three members sound like the same person, but I particularly dig how the vocals climb from Love’s trademark low voice to Wilson’s higher key. The instrumentation behind them builds and builds to kinda release itself during the chorus too. It’s very well done. Quite cathartic in some ways. Other things to note when listening is that bass harmonica solo and when, during the song’s fade out, things seem to start speeding up – though it’s just someone getting a bit too eager on a tambourine…… Oh, and a chord on a banjo is played earlier than it should be at one point too. That’s enough.

Below is ‘Hang on to Your Ego’, and if you want to observe just how the song was produced there’s a little making of video too.