Tag Archives: my ipod

#818: Kings of Leon – McFearless

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Kings of Leon released a new album quite recently. Their first in five years. As nice as that might be, I’m one of those who thought they were never the same post Because of the Times. To me it was the last record of theirs where they were a bit daring at the least, and had a bunch of songs on there that were exciting to listen to. I got my copy of The Times, quite soon after it was released actually. Came out three days before my 12th birthday, and ‘On Call’ was on there and to be able to hear that whenever I wanted to, I needed the CD.

‘McFearless’ comes straight after ‘On Call’ on the album. Caleb Followill sings the ‘be there’ lyric on there, and then ‘McFearless’ enters which this massive fuzz bazz in the centre, followed by this erratic, high-hat heavy drumming pattern by Nathan Followill and wah-wah drenched guitar riff. To an erratic 11 soon to be 12-year-old, these sounds were quite awe-inspiring. Because of C.Followill’s vocal delivery and cadence, I don’t think I’ve ever sang along to this one correctly. Except for the chorus. And even then. But I’ve looked at the lyrics. My interpretation is that the song is just about a man who’s trying to live his best life, keep on the straight and narrow and maintain their sanity in a crazy world. I think that’s fair.

Time’s gone by and sometimes I wonder whether the chorus to this is actually good. Caleb Followill’s clearly giving it his all, his voice is at the point of breaking many times during those repetitions, but I can’t help but find it funny sometimes. You might not feel the same, but that’s fine. I’ll still listen to this with great joy whenever it comes on.

#817: Manic Street Preachers – Mausoleum

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Well, it’s my birthday today. 26. A pretty solid age to be at, I think. I’m finding it a bit funny that a song from one of the darkest British rock albums of the 90s arrives on this day. The Holy Bible by Manic Street Preachers has been noted for its rage, discontent, and for being a brutal critique of the human condition, as described by comment I saw on YouTube. It’s the band’s last record featuring guitarist/lyricist Richey Edwards, who disappeared a few months after the album’s release. It’s something of a final statement by the man, though some lyrics were also written by bassist Nicky Wire. Clearly, Edwards wasn’t having the greatest of times.

‘Mausoleum’ is one of two songs on there inspired by the band’s visit to Dachau concentration camp. It doesn’t contain any overt references to the place itself. ‘The Intense Humming of Evil’ covers that. The ‘no birds’ refrain on ‘Mausoleum’ is said to have been written because there were no birds that the members saw when they were at the camp. Otherwise, the track is a scathing description of seeing nothing but death and destruction around you, and generally being in a very bad mental place.

James Dean Bradfield belts out every word from the gut here, apart from the verses where he has more of a hushed approach to the delivery. He really was a powerhouse back in the day. From ‘regained your self-control’ to the two repeats of ‘your meaning’, I don’t think he takes a breath once. And only a few seconds later, he yells ‘no birds’ from his chest. Very awesome when you hear it. I’ve always enjoyed the ending where the song’s melody completely changes to another and gradually speeds up until coming to a crashing stop. Just my personal highlight.

#816: Mos Def – Mathematics

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You know, sometimes I wonder how things would be if Yasiin Bey (Mos Def) had only recorded the Black Star album and Black on Both Sides and just called it a day. After releasing what was his debut solo album in 1999, he took a five year break before returning with The New Danger. In that time, he invested more time in his acting career, which makes me think he may have at least been done with music for a while… Both Sides is an undeniable hip-hop classic. There’s something about it that makes me think if he had that album to his name, he would be even more legendary than he already is. But whatever. I would describe it as an album about being a Black man/artist in the 20th century, with the then-new millennium fast approaching, and how to cope with the struggles, but also look forward to the future.

‘Mathematics’ is the last track to feature vocals on the album, and what a way to close out what is already a lot to take in. In two verses, Mos Def goes all out. Everything from braggadocious lyrics to cultural references, to actual facts and social observations are in the two verses that are delivered on this track. Huge props should be given to DJ Premier who crafted the beat. It’s one that you could lie back and relax to, but it’s the samples and the scratching on top that’s just as manic and unpredictable as Mos Def’s energetic and sharp delivery. There’s so much to digest within each verse, but what I can say without giving it much justice is that numbers are important. If you want to rap, you’ve got to know some things about math. Statistics are on the news every day. And Mos Def makes a point that he doesn’t want to become a statistic himself. It’s just a whole breakdown on what he’s seen and things that he feels should be improved going into 2000 and onwards.

Followed by ‘May-December’, the instrumental that properly closes out the album, ‘Mathematics’ really feels like a drop the mic moment. There’s something very poignant and emphatic about it that I probably still haven’t managed to explain in this post. But it brings me back to my first point. If this was his last song, I probably wouldn’t be mad. It still applies today.

#815: Oasis – The Masterplan

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‘The Masterplan’ was originally released as a B-side to ‘Wonderwall’ when that song was a single back in the day. It, along with many other Oasis B-sides, has always left Oasis fans wondering how they weren’t singles in their own right or at least on their parent albums. Noel Gallagher has said that at the time, he didn’t write shit songs. Which is a fair enough answer. Something had to be a B-side, so he wrote this to fit the quota.

I had been on this earth for only a few months at the time of the ‘Wonderwall’ single. I was three when the The Masterplan B-side album was released. So I didn’t know this song existed for a long time. In 2006 the band released Stop the Clocks, and promotion videos were made for ‘Acquiesce’ and ‘The Masterplan’. Saw the video for the latter on MTV2 one day, and that was all it took, really. Better late than never. With its message that we’re all small things that a part of a bigger picture alongside its L.S. Lowry-inspired animated video which is a huge ode to Manchester, it just made for a memorable music experience. Still does now, but when I was 11 it was even more so.

It is a bit crazy that no one thought to tell Gallagher to save this one. I could think of a song or two on Morning Glory that it could have replaced. It was 25+ years ago, so obviously what’s done is done. It does truly show the quality of Noel Gallagher’s songwriting, particularly during that point from 1994-6 where it seemed that all he touched turned to gold. Good stuff.

#814: Parquet Courts – Master of My Craft

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Parquet Courts, Parquet Courts. Not the hugest fan of them, I have to admit. Not because they’re bad. They do make great songs, but I’ve never been able to fully enjoy their whole discography from front to back. I did a ‘review’ for Sunbathing Animal way back when. It’s not very good. But That was after I had heard Light Up Gold for the first few times and thought, “Wow! This is my new band.” I’ve not listened to that album for a while. If I had started this blog a bit later, ‘Bodies Made Of’ would’ve had its own post on here.

I’m digressing. Continuing on with the ‘songs from the perspective of someone we shouldn’t like’ theme established from yesterday’s post, this is ‘Master of My Craft’. It’s the first song on Light Up Gold, and it’s sung by co-lead vocalist Austin Brown. I think it’s all right to assume that this is from the POV of some sleazy, selfish, corporate business-oriented person who has no compassion whatsoever for other people. This person won’t even take a minute out of the day to talk to you. It’s madness. I’m exaggerating. Brown’s kind-of-distant vocal delivery suits the song’s message well, and I’ve personally liked the almost-monoaural mix the track has. Makes the performance sound all the more compact and tight.

With about fifty seconds to go, the vocals finish and the band jam on two chords with Brown providing a solo in each ear. Listening to the song by itself, you may think that it ends quite abruptly. You would be right. Some would tell you that the best way to listen to the song is when it’s then followed by the next track on the album, ‘Borrowed Time’. That would have had its own post too. That way you get a solid six minutes of some good rock music. You wouldn’t believe that one song ended and the other started the way this transition goes. The band perform the two songs live below.