Tag Archives: man

#964: Ween – Ocean Man

Set up in a rented beach house on the shore of New Jersey, Gene and Dean Ween were overcome with inspiration. Their surroundings were an influence on many of the songs that would end up on The Mollusk and many others that were left on the cutting room floor. ‘Ocean Man’ provides a clear example. That song is from the point of view of a person who wants to know more about the titular character, hoping to become their friend and be taken to the strange places this character goes. It’s basically Ween’s ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’. Gene Ween had a mandolin and was always playing around with it, the chords came about, the lyrics were written quickly and everything seemed to fall into place. That’s according to Dean Ween himself in a 20th anniversary retrospective of the album. A great read, would recommend. Once finished, it was put in the penultimate slot on the record. The place that, from what I’ve gathered, is usually where artists put the songs that are good, but don’t really amount to much when it comes to album flow. Am I wrong in saying that? I feel like there’s some unspoken truth about it.

Anyway, I don’t think the duo could have imagined how much of an impact the song would have on generations to come upon its inclusion in the very last scene of the SpongeBob SquarePants Movie in 2004. SpongeBob becomes the manager of the Krusty Krab, spoilers, and as the ‘camera’ freezes while he delivers the last line of the film, the opening drum roll to ‘Ocean Man’ cuts in and the credits start to roll. Now, Ween were no strangers to SpongeBob. They had provided the song ‘Loop de Loop’ for the cartoon for an episode where SpongeBob doesn’t want to tell anyone that he doesn’t know how to tie his shoes. But as a track from the album that actually influenced the creation of that series, ‘Ocean Man’ acts as the perfect way to bring it all full circle in what was originally meant to be the cartoon’s grand finale.

It’s where I heard the track for the first time, albeit a few good years later when the film was showing on TV because I never saw it at the cinema when it initially came out. What drew me to the track immediately were the exaggerated vocals. Knowing Ween now, it’s not that much of a surprise. It’s just standard practice that they change the pitch or speed of their songs when mixing in order get those effects on their vocals. But being 13/14 or however old I was when I saw that film the first time, it was definitely odd yet strangely appealing. I downloaded that track, and for years it was the only Ween song I had in my library. Took a while, but now I have practically all their albums in there. It takes a seed to make a tree.

#957: The Beatles – Nowhere Man

Hey, it’s ‘Nowhere Man’. The track written by a 24-year-old John Lennon, who in 1865 was one of the most famous people in the world, but still felt like a bit of a bum who didn’t have a purpose or set direction in life. This wasn’t the usual “I love you/I wish you loved me/I’m thankful you love me/My friend loves you, you know” type track that the group had become known for up to that point. ‘Nowhere’ was much different in its theme. This was a song about, what we call nowadays, the existential crisis. Lennon once recalled that he wrote it very quickly after properly wracking his brain in trying to write another song for Rubber Soul. His remarks make it sound like he barely put any thought behind it, but there’s definitely a hint of sadness that maybe he wouldn’t have wanted to admit to. In the end, it ended up being one of the highlights from the album. Probably my favourite on there.

Lennon, Paul McCartney and George Harrison open the track a capella, harmonising on the song’s first line before all the instruments jump in. It’s pretty much smooth sailing from then on. No momentum is ever lost. McCartney really keeps things busy with a hopping and striding bassline that keeps its groove, but also carries out its own melody. On top, Ringo Starr keeps a steady rhythm alongside Lennon’s acoustic guitar, and the three vocalists consistently harmonise right up to the song’s end. Even when they aren’t singing the same words, Harrison and McCartney harmonise some wordless vocals while Lennon sings another verse/chorus/bridge. It’s hard to tell. There’s no distinctive section in this track. Every part just rolls into the next so smoothly, it’s a hook with another hook lined up next to another one, most of the time linked together by a descending five-note guitar riff that is also so memorable in its own way.

I’m not sure how to heap more praise or talk about this track without inadvertently ripping from other places. I certainly do admire it still. It’s a greatly upbeat track about the worries of wondering what you’re doing with your life, and I’m sure that’s something we’ve all felt at least once when you get to that mid-20 age range. It never really stops after that either. So the ability of the band to somehow capture that feeling and at least turn it into something positive and relatable ticks all the boxes for me. A very miniscule highlight for me, which you probably wouldn’t notice unless you’re really listening, is when the three sing the last “Making all his nowhere plans for nobody” lyric and Lennon kinda slows the way he sings it, while McCartney and Harrison rush it. It’s very subtle. I can assume it wasn’t on purpose. But it always sticks out to me.

#893: Mac DeMarco – My Old Man

‘Twas a day in my very last semester of university when Mac DeMarco’s old record label uploaded two new songs from his then upcoming album This Old Dog on its official YouTube page. One was the album’s title track, and the other was today’s subject, the album opener, ‘My Old Man’. Having been a fan of Mac’s for almost three years at that point, we’re talking January 2017 here, there wasn’t any better news. But when I first remember hearing them, I kinda felt a bit underwhelmed. That jangly guitar was gone and was replaced by a great presence of the good ol’ acoustic. They were generally a lot calmer and restrained in their delivery. I thought they were just okay. I did however grow fonder of ‘My Old Man’ when the album was released a few months later and I decided to listen to it with proper headphones. Why I had been listening to those initial videos through my phone until is a decision I’m puzzled by, thinking about it now.

Once I used those headphones, I found that the listening experience was almost somewhat the same. Obviously, the track sounded better in the ears. But I heard the same acoustic guitars, Mac’s vocals. That was all well and good. What I wasn’t prepared for was that subtle bass with those pulsing keyboard touches that come in during the chorus. It was those elements that lifted the track to all-star status for me. It changed for me in that instant. And once that happened I was really exciting for the rest of the album that was to come. This was a new Mac DeMarco, and I for one welcomed this new direction he was going in with open arms.

And what is the track about? Something I think that a lot of guys can relate to, looking in the mirror one day and thinking, “Damn. I’m old. I’m starting to look a bit like Dad.” Though in Mac’s case, it’s not the greatest of revelations for him as his relationship with his father was far from great. There are a lot of articles about it online you can read. I’m sure there’s a section about it on his Wiki page too. Though if you’re only slightly interested in it, there is that quite sad video of his dad showing up in a parking lot before one of his shows and leaving soon afterwards. There is the theme of his dad in the song, and in many other tracks within the album for that matter, but I do think that generally the track is about reflecting on physical and mental being after living a particularly hectic lifestyle, something that Mac DeMarco could truly write about from pure experience.

#891: They Might Be Giants – My Man

Mink Car, the album by They Might Be Giants, gets a bit of an unfair wrap among the band’s following. It’s seen by some to be the not so best one by a fair few. It hurts to say ‘worst’ just ’cause I don’t think the band have a bad album. There were a lot of songs the band had recorded during its making that probably should have ended up on the final tracklist, and quite a few songs that appeared on the final tracklist that probably shouldn’t have been there at all. Looking at you in particular, ‘Mr. Xcitement’. But there are some external factors about the album that kind of overshadowed its release. The major one being that it was released on September 11, 2001. No one was really thinking about the music that came out that day. And Pitchfork gave it a 2.8/10 on their website, which is just silly.

But for me, there’s a reasonable amount of tracks I enjoy on there that make it a worthy listen. ‘My Man’ is most probably my favourite one on there. Though its story is a bit depressing, told from the point of a man speaking to his body after he’s been paralyzed, the bubbly keyboards, engaging melody, and general sort of cheeriness to its delivery give it that usual TMBG mark. The track seems to never have been performed live. That may say something about how the band feels about it, I don’t know, but because the track’s located on what’s considered to be their least greatest moment I’m very sure that it doesn’t get the appreciation it’s supposed to.

The lyrics are pretty self explanatory. The first verses describe a man who’s trying to move his leg but finds that he can’t, coming to the conclusion that he’s “fallen out with his head”. Then these strident sections come in where the band falls in with these chugging violins, with another narrative voice comparing our bodies to ocean coasts with submarine cables that need to connect to other shores in order to work properly. There’s more from the man trying to come to terms with what’s happening to him, and then the doctor comes in with the wham line “There is no way to repair the break”. He won’t walk again. To be honest, it’s a sad damn song.

#878: The Byrds – Mr. Tambourine Man

Yes, the same song. I did tell you. And here it is. The post today is dedicated to the Byrds’ take on ‘Mr. Tambourine Man’, originally written by Bob Dylan. Instead of the going down the more-or-less strictly acoustic route, the band decided to give the track a full rock band treatment with the use of jangling 12-string electric guitars and beautiful vocal harmonies – a combination of which, at the time, was very much unheard of at the time. Fair to say a lot of people were attracted to this new sound, and it set a foundation that many band followed during the 60s. The track itself did so well that they named their first album after it, so there you go.

I recall hearing it many, many years ago on one of those “Call in and get your double CD set of these great 60s songs” adverts on the television, and there was this 10 second clip of the band singing the song. But it wasn’t until about 2011 that I thought it was a really great song, when it appeared on an Internet radio station. You’ve just got to admire the three-way vocal harmonies of Roger McGuinn, Gene Clark and David Crosby here. Just perfect. It was this track and its lyrics that gave the ‘jangle pop’ genre its name. And that bass riff that opens and closes it out is memorable in itself. Because the producer didn’t have faith in the band’s musicianship, the famous “Wrecking Crew” cast of musicians were brought in to provide a rhythm section to McGuinn’s vocal and 12-string guitar. This was probably a good move. But no one was to really know as the band ‘performed’ it on US television many a time.

So if you were to ask me which I prefer between Dylan’s original and the Byrds’ cover… I mean, the Byrds’ take is the one I’m usually singing in the shower out of the blue. So it may be that. Helps that they shortened the track to only include the chorus and one verse out of the four from Dylan’s take. But overall, it’s such a comfortable listen. There’s a real warmth to it. Ten years ago, this track really took me to a peaceful place. Still does today really. And having Dylan’s original to get lost in makes it all the better.