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#599: The Who – I’m One

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Three out of the four albums The Who released in the 70s contained songs that featured only Pete Townshend, John Entwistle and Keith Moon performing with lead singer Roger Daltrey possibly absent from the recording session. ‘Going Mobile’ (Who’s Next, 1970), today’s song ‘I’m One’ from 1973’s Quadrophenia, and ‘However Much I Booze’ (The Who By Numbers, 1975) are where the band essentially becomes a power trio; even without Daltrey’s powerful vocals the three remaining members still kick up a storm, seemingly without any sign of struggle.

To anyone who hasn’t heard Quadrophenia, do it now! What are you doing? Sorry. It’s a bit difficult to try and explain tracks from there without having to recap its story so far. It’s a rock opera. Basically, it is about a youth called Jimmy who has four split personalities – with each one representing a member of The Who – who has problems with his parents, relationships, the mod scene he desperately wants to be a part of, and himself in general. Though it’s much more better actually hearing it for yourself.

‘I’m One’ is the sixth track on the album, coming after a point where Jimmy has left home feeling misunderstood by his parents, tries to become a mod by having the right haircut, and sees The Who in concert but leaves disenchanted by the whole affair. Things aren’t going to well for him but at least he’s someone in his own eyes. Quite ironic in that really he’s four people sort of, but at least he’s trying to figure himself out.

Townshend, Entwistle and Moon kill their respective performances here. Starting off slow with reverberated acoustic guitar and Townshend’s shimmering lead vocal, everything turns on its head about 50 seconds in when Moon’s drum fill comes in and introduces Townshend’s electric guitar and Entwistle’s bass into the frame. It is more or less agreed that John Entwistle was one of the best rock bassists – if not, the best – to have ever existed, able to play such complex lines at an alarming rate. On this track, he plays his bass quite straight. As straight as it could be if you were him. Keith Moon’s drums propel the song to another level with emphatic drum rolls and cymbal crashes. It’s a determined and very forward-moving two and a half minutes of music and one of my personal highlights from the album.

#598: Cloud Nothings – I’m Not Part of Me

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Cloud Nothings’ album Here and Nowhere Else turned five years old a couple of weeks ago. It still packs as much of a punch today as I thought it did then. At the time it was an album that I needed. I had found myself listening to the same old songs for too long. I was very much into Pitchfork so when the site gave it an 8.7 rating out of 10, it was clearly obvious that this album was going to be good.

A word you could use to describe the album is ‘rough’. Not in the “yeesh, that’s rough” kind of way. More in its aesthetic. The pounding drums go about a few seconds earlier than each guitar strum. Dylan Baldi’s vocals are never that clear in the mix. The guitars have quite a harsh, sandy quality to them. But every track is melodic and grounded in pop sensibilities. I may have already stated all of this in the linked post but it’s always good to recollect.

‘I’m Not Part of Me’ is the album closer. From what I can remember it was the first taste of the then new album that the band unveiled to the public too. It arguably has the most memorable hook on the entire record. Plus, it’s quite optimistic in its own casual way. Here and Nowhere Else is quite a tense record musically. Lyrically it looks at the the unfairness of life and how sometimes we just have to deal with bad things that happen to us. Then ‘I’m Not Part of Me’ comes in as the last track and provides the idea that life is unfair, yes, but that’s okay – you just have to move on. It’s almost a breath of fresh air. Just almost.

#597: The Beatles – I’m Looking Through You

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Rubber Soul was The Beatles’ sixth album overall; it was also the second of two albums by the group released in 1965 with Help! arriving in stores only a few months earlier. Rubber is usually seen as the point where the four lads deviated from their love-centric light-hearted pop hits and began making music that required attentive listening. Their aim was to make an album which flowed, had direction, and where all songs that were listed were important to its structure. They succeeded. This was the look of a band with confidence.

Another Beatles song beginning with “I” or “I’m”, ‘I’m Looking Through You’ is the tenth track on Rubber Soul. Paul McCartney wrote it. It seems that he was going through some relationship troubles during this time in The Beatles. He and Jane Asher had been an item since 1963. She was a successful actress in her own right though McCartney wished she was at home a lot more of the time. During the making of Rubber, he wrote this track, ‘We Can Work It Out’, and ‘You Won’t See Me’ – all of which were about his frustration with the whole situation.

Out of the three, ‘I’m Looking Through You’ is the most brisk. It’s very acoustic driven and moved by some knee-slapping percussion and active bass playing. I think it’s notable that it mirrors ‘You Won’t See Me’ in that both tracks concern a sense of disappearance. Musically, you can say it’s upbeat. Has a major key throughout, the somewhat jubilant electric guitar lead and keyboard vamps in the instrumental breaks add to its somewhat cheerful demeanour. The lyrics are a real downer though. Another case of ‘happy music with sad lyrics’ in the musical history books. Sorry to just dismiss it as that. It is that dynamic between the music and lyrics that make it another thoroughly enjoyable song in the Beatles catalogue. You can’t go wrong with Rubber Soul.

Below is another take of the track that was worked on but ultimately discarded. It’s a lot slower but still has the same emotional impact.

#596: Blur – I’m Just a Killer for Your Love

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‘I’m Just a Killer for Your Love’ is the tenth track on Blur’s self-titled album, released in 1997. For anyone who owns that album and holds it in particular high regard, it’s not hard to notice the slight quality difference in terms of production between this track and all the other 13 songs it’s placed alongside. It has an almost monoaural mix compared to the somewhat expansive sounds in ‘Beetlebum‘ or ‘Death of a Party‘, it sounds like the recording was accidentally started after Dave Rowntree starts drumming, there’s a Beatles ‘Yer Blues‘ feel to it in that it sounds like the band are just in this one room close together busting this thing out.

Well, there’s a reason for this. It’s the only song on there not to be produced by Stephen Street. Apparently, it was the very last track that the band worked on for the album and something the four members knocked out whilst working in Damon Albarn’s then new ‘Studio 13’. The track is very loose, rough around the edges, very slack in its execution but oddly seductive too.

This song predates Gorillaz’s first album by a few years but there are a number of things about it that remind me of what would appear on that project’s 2001 debut. The lyrics are a number of surreal images that when put together appear to make a coherent story, Albarn’s played up (or toned down, however you see it) vocal delivery is something he would go on to develop and play with more with the project, and just in general it’s almost experimental in its weird way.

Pay attention to Alex James really forcing that wah-wah effect on his bass, that’s some good stuff.

#595: The Beatles – I’m Happy Just to Dance with You

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So when George Harrison wasn’t too confident in his songwriting in the earlier years of The Beatles’ musical reign in the 60s, John Lennon and Paul McCartney would write songs for him to perform the lead vocal on. They did that on Please Please Me with ‘Do You Want to Know a Secret?‘, and two albums later did so again with ‘I’m Happy Just to Dance with You’.

The song is the fourth track on A Hard Day’s Night and is the only song Harrison takes lead vocal for on the album. Both Lennon and McCartney didn’t think much of it. Lennon was quoted as saying he never would have sung it himself. Still what is considered a throwaway by the two main songwriters has always been up there for the best songs on the album in my eyes.

It lasts for just under two minutes but it sure has a melody that can stick. Paul McCartney plays a bassline that never seems to stay in one place; John plays an unusual rhythm guitar pattern in the verses that jolts along with the rhythm. Harrison’s voice suits it perfectly and it was probably for the best that neither Lennon nor McCartney sung it. Though their backing vocals – aided by hefty natural reverb – are greatly utilised. They add a sense of mystery I feel. Especially along with those chord changes in the chorus.

It’s a track about wanting to dance with a girl and blanking anyone who tries to interrupt. Not a lot of depth to it, but it doesn’t sound dated one bit.