Tag Archives: my ipod

#868: Beastie Boys – The Move

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Some time in 2018, I went through the discography of Beastie Boys through Spotify while at work. It was the type of place where no one really looked at what you were doing, pretty much as long as you showed up. But I did it. One album each day, though I think I skipped The Mix-Up. All I can say is when it comes to a Beastie Boys album, you never know what you can get because the three members (MCA, Ad-Rock and Mike D) decided quite soon that they would make anything they wanted when making a record. Hard rock, dub, slow acoustic jams, those were always on there. But what they excelled at was hip-hop and their raps, bouncing off each others words with excitement and enthusiasm.

Their 1998 album Hello Nasty starts off too strongly. First comes ‘Super Disco Breakin” which’ll get its own post way later, and then the second punch arrives with ‘The Move’. The title phrase isn’t mentioned in the lyrics, or in any verse rhymed by a member, but I’d like to think it’s called as such because this track doesn’t stick to one beat. For a good chunk, it’s straight boom-bap, then a harpsichord comes in for a brief moment, the boom-bap starts again, then the beat changes into one led by this double bass groove, followed by a lengthy period where the last few words uttered by the three echo into the distance that unexpectedly turns into an interlude of ‘El Rey y Yo’ by Los Angeles Negros. You can’t say it’s not entertaining. All in three and a half minutes.

Overall, the track is yet another braggadocious offering by the trio. The Beastie Boys were back, it had been four years since their last album at that point, and they’re just as good as ever. There was never any need to doubt them. Some one-liners that always stick to me when listening: “I’m intercontinental when I eat French toast”, “Dogs love me ’cause I’m crazy sniffable”, and I particularly like the delivery on “‘Cause I’m that fool that broke the kEeEy”. Always brings a smile. There’s also a small part where the three exchange syllables in one line, which I never even properly realized until I saw a YouTuber’s reaction to this the other day. Good, good track. Fair to say that it’s overlooked in the Beasties catalogue? I would say yes.

#867: Animal Collective – Mouth Wooed Her

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Hard to know where to start with this one. Back in 2014 when I was properly getting into Animal Collective and heard Sung Tongs for the first time, my personal highlights became clear straight away. I certainly didn’t consider ‘Mouth Wooed Her’ to be one of them. I guess I just thought it was too strange. And, I mean, you couldn’t really blame me for that initial reaction. Avey Tare is not your average singer. And the track changes its time signature and shifts through many movements… it’s one to get your head around.

Then one day that I couldn’t possibly recall, it was definitely years after 2014, I heard it once more and it all seemed to make a lot more sense. Sometimes that’s the way it goes when it comes to music. But would I say it’s my favourite track on the album? Probably not. But I appreciate it quite a bit. It is weird, but simultaneously quite flowing and free to the ears. I think I would put that down to its waltz timing. And the vocal melody’s pretty memorable to. Avey Tare sings along with every downbeat (I believe, I’m not a music theorist) which gives the track that little bit of a bounce. It’s like the vocals are jumping with every delivery of a line in a verse. It takes a strange turn at about 1:40 in, which I’m sure confused on that first listen. Still does now, just a bit. But then after a quiet moment it launches back into the final few verses and all sounds good again. That is until about a minute later when the slow breakdown section starts with hazy acoustic guitars, claps, and Avey Tare singing that he needs mouth water repeatedly for the rest of the song’s duration. ‘Mouth Wooed Her’ is play on ‘mouth water’, by the way. A lot of wordplay happens in the song titles on this album.

So, yeah. Not my favourite, but won’t skip whenever it appears on a train journey. Will this post sway you to give the track a listen and throw you down an Animal Collective-shaped rabbit hole? Well, that’s questionable. But at the very least, I tried.

#866: Ween – Mountains and Buffalo

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‘Mountains and Buffalo’ is a track recorded by Ween during the making of their 2003 album Quebec. Though it wasn’t included on the eventual final tracklist, I guess because it just doesn’t reach that odd weirdness that runs throughout that record, the band saw enough potential in it that they released it as a double A-side single alongside ‘Tried and True’.

As far as the track goes, it’s a pretty solid rock band performance. Gene and Dean Ween are on the guitars pulling off some great chord progressions, Dave Dreiwitz on bass guitar pulls off some good runs, and Claude Coleman Jr. powers through with those drums. Well, I’m assuming those four guys are playing on here. There are plenty of instances on Quebec where it’s only Gene and Dean on a track and none of the band’s other members are on there. There’s definitely a band performance aura about this one though.

Although the live band performance feel would stick out had it been included on its parent album, the lyrics certainly don’t. They’re quite obscure, not very linear… more based on imagery rather than having a full-on narrative. Though inspecting them closely, I think Gene Ween’s singing about having a few drinks and having a quickie with a fine lady. The way he expresses this encounter really makes the experience sound quite spaced out and trippy. It’s all great though. Something of a deep cut in the Ween discography because that double A-side single is hard to find. Very memorable yet understated, which I always like to find in a song.

#865: The Beatles – Mother Nature’s Son

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Another Beatles-related post. I can’t help how these things turn out. But I won’t apologise. Those people made some good songs. Today’s comes from when they were still together, but also during a time when the cracks in their relationship began to show. ‘Mother Nature’s Son’ was made when the group were making what became their double album, released in November 1968. At the point of the recording of the song, relationships between the four guys had got to a point where they would record songs individually in different studios. ‘Mother Nature’s’ was one of those; Paul McCartney recorded all the parts to the song by himself. The track’s inspiration did come from a source of positivity, I think.

Earlier in 1968, the Beatles went to India for some courses in Transcendental Meditation. In a particular session, the Maharishi gave a lecture that inspired Paul McCartney and John Lennon to write two separate songs. Lennon’s, entitled ‘Child of Nature’, was demoed, then left on the shelf, and then a few years later became ‘Jealous Guy’. ‘Mother’ was McCartney’s. To be fair, I do think the latter’s was just a bit better. Lennon’s tune was good, but the words could have been better. And he proved they could be later on.

So on what is essentially a solo Paul McCartney song, he provides the usual sweet, sweet melody with some vocalized ‘do-do-dos’ and ‘yeah-yeah-yeahs’ in there, over a bit of an intricate acoustic guitar arrangement. Though to make it fuller, you’ve got two trumpets and two trombones played by some musicians who never got their credits on the album sleeve. McCartney sings about being a poor, young, country boy who’s one with nature, the environment, and goes around making people smile with his music. A lot of natural imagery conjures up in his lyricism (fields, daisies, the sun, you name it), and I guess you can never beat a wordless chorus from time to time. They’re certainly very memorable. My favourite part is probably the ending acoustic solo in the right channel that slides into the last iteration of the song’s title to close the whole thing out. There’s a jazzy tinge to it which I think gives it some edge, and it segues nicely into the next track where things get a bit crazier. A lot of mood shifts happen on this album.

#864: John Lennon – Mother

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John Lennon – a complicated individual, I think it can be said. I’m not in the huge wave of people who declare him a monster every time his name is mentioned. But he did go through some shit. His mum was killed outside of his home when he was a teenager, and his dad left the family and only returned when he became famous. Those two things pretty much set him off for life. Those events are enough to mess any kid up. But being thrown into the spotlight as a member of the biggest music group in the world, I’d have to assume he had to put those events behind him somehow. It wasn’t until the Beatles split and he had all the time in the world with Yoko Ono, that his mum and dad came to the forefront of his writing. And fair to say, at that point in time (1970), John was a bit pissed off with everything.

A common thread on John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band is Lennon’s feelings of being let down by the people he once looked up to when he was younger. And that album begins with the subjects from which most of his pain stemmed from: his parents. ‘Mother’ starts it all off with an ominous funeral bell that tolls slowly. In the middle of the forth toll, Lennon’s voice erupts with a wail accompanied by Ringo Starr’s drums and Klaus Voormann’s bass guitar. The first verse concerns his mother, the second his father, and the third verse sees Lennon warn the listener to not follow in his footsteps. Maybe because he had tried to hide his hurt underneath his wit for all those years, I’m not so sure myself. And god, does he sing every word so honestly. The vocal melody’s sort of all over the place in terms of the scales and leaps from one note to the other. It’s like there’s not one syllable in a word that stays on one note. Such an engaging listen, earnest and so, so real.

Then comes the “Momma, don’t go/Daddy come home” ending, which I have to say actually frightened me a bit when I heard it the first time in 2010 or so. Sounds innocent enough when Lennon first sings that. But as the song continues, that singing gradually turns into guttural screams that properly distort the microphone he’s using. He starts to play lower down on the piano during this coda too which gives the whole track a darker tone and feel. I feel like all of this is a method to make the listener feel as uncomfortable as possible, particularly those in 1970 who still wanted some good old Beatles music. I think he succeeded with this goal. A couple months back, the album was re-released in this huge package with new mixes and demos. A raw mix of the album version that removed its fade out and the echo-effect on Lennon’s vocal’s on there, and I might even like that one better.