Tag Archives: love

#1441: Talking Heads – Uh-Oh, Love Comes to Town

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Looks like I gave the whole spiel as to what other songs from Talking Heads: 77 would have their own posts here when I last wrote about another song from that album a few years back. Normally I reserve that whole bit for when I’m writing about the last representative from a specific LP. But I guess I couldn’t hold it in. What I’ve found out is that I listened to …77 in full for the first time in March 2014. I thought it was much later in the year. I have a memory that fueled that feeling, I’ll maybe note it in the final paragraph. But let’s see, March 2014. I was hosting a show on my uni’s radio station. I was stuffing my iTunes library with as much music as I could. I had ‘Tentative Decisions’ by itself in there. I’d heard it on an internet radio service in 2012 or so. I’m guessing I must have just thought, “May as well get the rest of the album in too.” It was a well-respected piece of work, according to Wikipedia. I had nothing to lose.

‘Uh-Oh, Love Comes to Town’ is the first song on Talking Heads: 77. The one introducing the band to the masses, with …77 being their debut album and all. It begins with a crashing, ascending four-chord progression before falling straight into that shoulder-shimmying groove. The guitar line skips along, in unison with the bass guitar, and then David Byrne enters on the vocals for all to hear with that shrill but perky delivery of his. Steel drums enter the frame along the way, all a very upbeat affair. Guess it’s safe to say, ‘Uh-Oh…’ is a song about love. In the tune, David Byrne sings from the perspective of a self-proclaimed “know-it-all” who’s got his partner. They get along very well. But the song’s not so much about the couple. It’s more about the notion that being in love can make you do stupid things, make the world go topsy-turvy. Byrne sings about calling in sick to his workplace to be with the one [he] loves, even though he knows he’ll get in trouble for it. He’s misplaced his common sense. He goes out of his mind when his loved one’s around. Stockbrokers are making bad investments, jet pilots are losing control of their vehicles. And why? Because love has come to town. And the song ends as it begins, with that four-chord progression with Byrne wailing “Uh-oh” over the top of it. A strong album opener. A strong discography opener.

Why I thought I heard Talking Heads: 77 later in 2014 is because I once went to Manchester for a weekend or something in November that year, an event was going on. Warehouse Project, people out there will know. I returned to my uni house and found that I could no longer reach those high notes as David Byrne does at the end of ‘Uh-Oh…’ when I tried to sing the song like I had before that weekend happened. I honestly thought that was it, my voice was gone, my angelic tones were no more. Cut to a few weeks later, voice was fine. A lot of that weekend was spent talking loudly, obviously some cords were strained and they got better over time. But I got worried there. So the point was, I thought I had listened to …77 initially around November time of 2014. It was months earlier. But maybe it was during November time that I revisited it and officially got into ‘Uh-Oh’… I’m rambling on a bit, just some thought processes going on here. Whatever may be the case, I enjoy this song and its parent album a lot. I prefer it to More Buildings and Food. I would probably be more inclined to go through …77 on a whim than Remain in Light too. In my view, just the run from ‘The Book I Read’ to ‘Pulled Up’ might be one of my favourites on any album ever. And that does includes ‘First Week/Last Week…Carefree’ because that song is a jam.

#1355: The Who – They Are All in Love

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This marks another instance that an album will be represented for the last time on here too. I’ve covered three tracks from The Who by Numbers before, and the presence of ‘They Are All in Love’ today makes it the fourth and final one. Only a third of the album, if my calculations are correct. But even though I may only find that fraction of the record enjoyable to a degree that I’d want to hear it over and over, I’d listen to the thing the whole way through if someone, anyone, out there were to put it on. The lyrical themes are a bit of a downer. It wasn’t labelled ‘Pete Townshend’s suicide note’ by a critic just for show. But if you just want a good rock album with no constructed concept and strong performances, …by Numbers isn’t a bad shout. Out of all those old ’70s rock bands to exist, you may as well go to The Who if that’s the particular type of record you’re looking for. They don’t do too bad on the concept side either.

I remember really not rating ‘They Are All in Love’ when I went through …by Numbers the first time in about 2012 or so. The waltz timing and the dainty piano among everything else on the album made it stick out like a sore thumb. Made it difficult for me to take it seriously, so I never gave it that much attention. But as the years have gone on and I’ve relistened here and there, I’m at the point now where I’ve realised that the tune is essential to the themes of frustration and irrelevancy that thread through the album. When John Entwistle’s half-joking take on getting into the music business with ‘Success Story’ is finished, we zip back to Pete Townshend’s problems with ‘…in Love’. He finds himself being the outsider to pretty much everything that surrounds him and succumbs to his feelings of irrelevancy as he becomes the old man – at the age of 30 – in the young man’s game of rock and roll. When he writes (and Roger Daltrey sings) “Where do you walk on sunny times” or “Where do you fit in (blows raspberry) magazine”, he’s really asking himself “Where do I etc etc.” As a writer, you’ve got to address the audience in some way, and with the second-person narrative, he does easily. But it makes it the more hard-hitting when he switches to first-person in the final verse with the lines, “Goodbye all you punks, stay young and stay high / Hand me my chequebook and I’ll crawl off to die.” It’s a sucker punch.

So who’s the ‘They’ that are in love as the harmonies so delicately lay out in the choruses? To me, I don’t think it matters. ‘They’ could be anyone. The main implication from the lyric is that while everyone else is in love, Townshend on the other hand, isn’t, with anyone or anything. And no one’s loving him either. A downer, to say the least. And this carries on until the album’s end where he tries to force himself into liking the simple things in life while feeling like rubbish (‘Blue, Red and Grey’) and contemplates who he can really trust in his personal life (‘How Many Friends’) to the point where he flat out states he’s lacking direction (‘In a Hand or a Face’). Might be one of the most overlooked streaks on a Who album, those last four tracks on …by Numbers. So it goes to show the 17-year-old I was in 2012, underneath the unserious-sounding music lay a strong song that was actually very serious in its lyrics. The sprightly piano on here is easily the highlight, brought to you everyone’s go-to session musician Nicky Hopkins. He carries everything with those fingers.

#1287: Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – Stick Figures in Love

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The tale of how I came to know Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks’ 2011 album Mirror Traffic is one that I think I told quite well and hopefully with some clarity, when I wrote about other song ‘Senator’ a few months back. Without trying to repeat myself, I’ll just say the record made those first few months of my fresher year in university that little more enjoyable whenever I was in those moments of solitude in my room in the student flat. Can’t say I took in the whole package, I think, even at 18, I was still adjusting to really focusing on albums and listening to them in one sitting. But songs like the aforementioned ‘Senator’, ‘Fall Away’, the first track ‘Tigers’ – which will get its due on here one day – and the seventh song, today’s feature, ‘Stick Figures in Love’ were instantaneous likes on my part, from what I can recall.

I go on Spotify and I see ‘Stick Figures…’ being the most popular song on there, at least at the time of writing this, with a little over 3.2 million plays. Just over two million more than the next one. It was released as a promotional single for the album in 2012, but it’s not like it hit the airwaves and played constantly. Didn’t make it into the charts. So I can only put the popularity down to the immediate appeal initiated by the opening guitar riff. Straight out of the gate, Malkmus lays down a lead guitar passage that soars and gallops – changing up the delivery as the basic rhythm underneath goes on for an extra measure or something. This riff comes back at regular intervals, sort of acting as an instrumental chorus of the track. Choruses are meant to be the most memorable parts of a song, right? From how I’ve come to know music, anyway. And that’s certainly the case for the guitar solo ‘Stick Figures in Love’ revolves around.

And then in between those, Malkmus sings some verses. ‘Cause you’ve got to have verses at some point. When I sing along and decipher what Malkmus is relaying to us, I come to find quickly that they seem to make a lot of concrete sense. Or at least there’s no sort of cohesive thread from line to line. I am a fan of the verses here, Malkmus delivers them all lightly and softly. He increases the intensity of his vocal for the third and final one, though. He corpses during the last line of the first verse, which I think is cool that was left in the final product. But I do get a feeling that those parts are meant to keep us listeners occupied before the thrilling guitar riff comes in again. All that being said, this one’s still a major highlight from Mirror Traffic. The title doesn’t appear in the lyrics. I’ve only recently thought of it as a way of saying “Skinny people in love.” I feel like there can be a comparison there. Malkmus isn’t the thickest of human beings, so maybe it’s a love song in his own way. That’s as far as I’m prepared to go in terms of interpretation.

#1231: Nine Black Alps – So in Love

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Although I wished it wasn’t the case, I remember being slightly disappointed by Nine Black Alps’ Love/Hate album. Their debut Everything Is was and is so great. The power and energy from the songs on there was off the scale. The 12-year-old me in late 2007 was expecting the same when the band’s sophomore album came around. That wasn’t to be the case though. There was less power and more of a focus on the musicality and the melodies with a rougher recording style too. The songs didn’t leave much of an effect on me, except ‘Forget My Name’ which I’ve written about before. I ripped it to my iTunes library, though. Could always have another listen one day.

And years later I did. I can’t remember what year exactly. I’m sure it would have been after the band released their third album. Maybe even their fourth. But it was on that re-listen that ‘So in Love’, the ninth song on Love/Hate suddenly sprang out to me. That particular track is the shortest one on the album, a sharp shock lasting for just over two minutes. It’s led by an ugly-sounding riff that’s more Nirvana than anything they did on the first album, as Sam Forrest alternates between softly singing and harshly yelling about the chokehold being in love can have on a person. Or at least that’s what I get from listening and looking at the lyrics.

‘Burn Faster’ was the first single to be released in the lead-up to Love/Hate. If you listen to that song, you can probably tell why. But I like to imagine a world where ‘So in love’ was that first piece of new music Nine Black Alps provided after those couple years of waiting. It’s really nothing like anything on Love/Hate and is a bit of a ‘What the fuck’ moment as a result, but it still has those melodic hooks than can win you over. The “Try to get out, try to get out” choruses sound so ’90s and are fun to sing along too, there’s a use of two-part harmonies during the verses that they never did on their first album. The whole track gives a huge rush that is sorely missing throughout the whole record. A lot of the B-sides from this era of the band probably could have been on here instead. There’s one in particular that will come around on here soon.

#1155: Lou Reed – Satellite of Love

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I have a big, big feeling that Lou Reed’s ‘Satellite of Love’ was a song that had an immediate impact on that first listen back in…. I want to say 2012. Was going through that ‘Best Ever Albums’ list on besteveralbums.com that I’ve sometimes talked about in other posts, and its parent album Transformer was on there at a decently ranked position. It’s got ‘Perfect Day’ on there. That’s a good one. ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ is a classic (though not one I go to, myself). But ‘Satellite of Love’ drew me in for sure. It begins with the piano, Lou Reed sings a succinct melody followed by that bass run and piano line. That’s all in the first 10 seconds. It’s catchy stuff, and it all carries on from there.

Influenced by the space race, the moon landing and lunar activities in the late ’60s, Reed wrote the track in 1970 when with The Velvet Underground and did a demo with the group during sessions for the band’s Loaded album. It didn’t make it on there. But two years later, with the aid of David Bowie and Mick Ronson, the track underwent changes to give it an air of wonder, flamboyance and slight campness and turned it into a glam rock number. There’s quite the all-star ensemble behind the performance with Reed singing and on guitar and Bowie on backing vocals, Ronson on piano and recorder, Beatles mate Klaus Voorman on the bass guitar and John Halsey AKA Barry Wom of The Rutles on drums. They all very much kill it in each of their respective positions.

As much as I do enjoy the main core of the song, particularly the contrast between Reed’s dry vocal with those bright “bom-bom-bom”‘s during the choruses, a huge part of my appreciation for the whole track goes towards its ending. With about a minute and 10 seconds left, the track builds layer and layer, starting with Ronson’s piano, followed by Reed and the sassy backing vocals by the vocal group Thunderthighs. And then to cap it all off, David Bowie comes in with a piercing falsetto to leave the track fading out on this massive bed of harmonies and countermelodies. It’s a shame that Bowie and Reed didn’t collaborate more after this and Transformer. Think I remember that they a falling out of some kind? They strike me as two people who would want to do their own respective things anyway. They performed live with one another in the end, so whatever beef they had was clearly squashed.