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#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.

#1354: They Might Be Giants – Thermostat

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This entry for They Might Be Giants’ ‘Thermostat’ makes it the last representative from the band’s 1994 John Henry album that’ll ever appear on this blog. Makes it nine songs from there in total, just less than half the overall number. We had a good run. One of the first tracks I ever covered here was from there, it goes back a long way. Speaking from my own point of view as They Might Be Giants fan, I know John Henry is a big fan favourite. Mine, not so much. Maybe in the middle somewhere for me, which in a discography of 23 studio albums doesn’t mean all that much. I have my favourites on there, but I’m never compelled to listen to the thing from front to back. It was the first one made after Johns Flansburgh and Linnell expanded their duo setup into a full band with a real bass guitarist and drummer. They sounded like a proper rock band, but it feels like there’s a little less variety. A lot of horn sections on display throughout, if you feel any way about those.

And talking about horn, there’s quite the presence of them on ‘Thermostat’. Unlike a few other numbers from John Henry – ‘Meet James Ensor’, ‘Destination Moon’, ‘AKA Driver’, which I’d known of since at least 2004 through a different set of circumstances – ‘Thermostat’ was one I came across when I was properly getting into the band’s discography in 2010/2011. Was really into my pirating albums from various websites phase around that time. Streaming wasn’t around, it’s all you could do. Anyone remember mp3crank.com? Going off-topic. As the 16th track on a 20-track album, ‘Thermostat’ comes at a point where, on any other album, you would probably be wandering how the whole package would end. But luckily, the song keeps things rolling to keep your focus going. I think, initially, it was its chorus and melody that caught my attention. The act of controlling the temperature on a thermostat is sung to you by John Linnell quite comprehensively. The fact that it’s about a faulty thermostat in a car that’s in the process of crashing didn’t set in till a bit later.

What I’d consider to be the focal point of the entire track is Linnell’s vocal and melody. He’s such a master of the latter, I don’t know how he does it. Like, he uses an entirely different melody for the second verse than the first. That’s not something you get a lot. But then there are other aspects in ‘Thermostat’ that I pick out and think, “Hey, that’s quite cool’. Like how John Flansburgh plays only three notes on his guitar that ring out during the choruses. How the chorus itself is technically in 10/4 timing. Or that slight phasing effect on Linnell’s voice during its last moments. It’s a solid album tune. The song hasn’t been played live by TMBG since 1995. I don’t know if that means something. I think people would get a kick out of hearing it, even if it might not be considered to be the biggest highlight. But I know if there’s any group of people out there who appreciate their favourite group’s deep cuts, it’s They Might Be Giants fans.

#1353: Blur – There’s No Other Way

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Blur may be one of my favourite bands. But their debut album Leisure isn’t one that I think to listen to all that often. In some artists’ cases, the debut album becomes the benchmark to which the rest of their work is compared. Not throwing out any names. There are some obvious examples out there. Blur went on to make much better albums than their first. Damon Albarn called Leisure “awful”, just to show how much he cares for it. It’s not an authentic representation of the band, and was more influenced by the shoegaze and Madchester scenes that were around at the time. But we all have to start somewhere. And even on this awful album, there a few tracks on there that are essential to the band’s discography as a whole. You’ve got the opener, ‘She’s So High’, the group’s very first single. ‘Sing’ is the somewhat experimental jam and one that people may know from Trainspotting. But the standout, least to me, is one of the album’s other singles, today’s subject, ‘There’s No Other Way’, which I think the band are proud ’cause they usually play it live at every opportunity.

My first experience with the song? Well, it’s a bit like a few others. One of those times when I saw the music video (above) for it on TV, but it was ending, so I wasn’t really aware of what was going on. If you want to what happens in it, Blur sit in with a family at the dinner table and have a three-course meal. Damon Albarn plays, I think, a moody teenager role, making death stares into the camera lens while sporting a ridiculous bowl haircut. Things get freaky when the massive trifle is brought out for dessert. And then the video ends. Probably afraid that the video was just a bit too British-looking, someone convinced the band to do another music video for the song specifically for American audiences. Which one’s better, I’ll let you decide. The original UK video would show up here and there every now and again, and the track’s chorus is repetitive enough that it’ll get stuck in your brain anyway. I got the band’s Best Of compilation, the song’s the third on there, and I’ve been able to listen to it whenever I wanted ever since.

I think I read that the track was written to appease either their record label owner David Balfe who was demanding they write a single to be included on the album. So, in response, the band wrote this upbeat, Madchester-inspired track with a chorus that’s repeated to death. The first line, “You’re taking the fun out of everything”, sums up Albarn’s feelings about this constant pressure forced upon him. He just wants to breathe without this presence breathing down his neck. It wouldn’t be the last time they’d write a tune made to wind Balfe up too. I think Graham Coxon is the real MVP of the entire thing. His riff starts it off, he brings in another riff during the verses, then there’s that little lick that plays after the choruses – all of which I find myself singing along to, sometimes more than Albarn’s vocal. They all go hand in hand. Plus, there’s the backwards guitar solo, which must have taken some time to figure out when writing it the right way round. And away from his guitar skills are his higher harmonizing backing vocals, “There’s no other way, ahhhh ahhhh ahhh” and others. You’ll know when it’s him singing. A very fun song, overall. It’s always a good time.

#1352: Radiohead – There there. (The Boney King of Nowhere.)

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Now, I got Hail to the Thief in about 2010, I think for my fifteenth birthday. But I’d been knowing of the album’s existence since at least 2004. ‘Myxomatosis’ was the first Radiohead song I ever heard. A good little story, that one. You can read it if you want. But when it comes to ‘There there.’, things become a little more unclear. I’d definitely heard the song before I got the physical CD, but I can’t remember that one time when the song truly clicked. I have a vague memory of listening to it on the old, old family Windows XP computer and getting into it. I have another of watching its music video somewhere and getting into it. Which event came first, I can’t recall, I’m sorry. I have clearer memories of singing it in the shower alongside ‘Paranoid Android’ in my teenage days, seeing if I could get myself cleaned before I finished both songs. The track’s just always been around at this point, and I’m thankful ’cause I’ve got a deep appreciation for it.

Thinking about it, it would make sense that I saw the music video first before going ahead and probably pirating it to listen to on the computer. To sum it up bluntly and needlessly crudely, Thom Yorke fucks around in a forest and finds out. It’s better if you watch the thing. It’s one of those rare, rare occasions of a music video (that I’ve come across in my days) where the visual goes so well with the music that the combination of the two creates this overall heightened experience. But the song by itself is pretty great too. Starts off all ominous with those tom-toms and rim clicks and Colin Greenwood’s bass guitar. The feedback of Yorke’s guitar kicks into gear before he properly starts playing. “In pitch dark, I go walking in your landscape / Broken branches trip me as I speak”. Strong beginning lines to a track, for sure. Vivid and evocative from the jump. But it’s all about that A major chord that introduces the chorus where I always get hit with that warm feeling, and then Yorke hits you with “Just ’cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there.” Ain’t that the truth, usually? Such a universal sentiment delivered so earnestly. If the track isn’t an instant like for you at that point, it never will be.

The song continues to chug along. The second verse and chorus come round, now with added backing vocals both sung by Yorke – I think – in the left and right channels. Meant to represent that symbolism of an angel and devil on your shoulder, I’ve always felt, which I think is reinforced by that “Someone on your shoulder” line. Thom Yorke wails the song’s title, marking the point where the music takes a turn. Jonny Greenwood’s guitar comes in on the left-hand side, the energy ramps up, Thom Yorke turns into a tree, and you’re left wondering how you got to this point from where it all initially started. It’s not unusual for a Radiohead song to begin in one direction before seamlessly changing to another. But with ‘There there.’, you get a very notable example. There’s a reason the crowd goes wild when those tom-tom stands are propped up in front of Ed O’Brien and Jonny Greenwood at their live shows. They know shit’s about to go down.

#1351: The Velvet Underground – There She Goes Again

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Funny how the title of today’s song is the following lyric to that of the previous post. At least I think it’s a little amusing. Both respectively from total opposite sides of a spectrum, though. ‘There She Goes Again’ is a track by The Velvet Underground, another one of theirs showing their face here, this time appearing on the band’s debut Velvet Underground & Nico album from 1967. Think I have a whole backstory on my first experience of that record when covering its opener ‘Sunday Morning’. But for anyone who wants a brief, brief recap: Was frequenting besteveralbums.com around 2012. Saw a “best ever albums” ranking. …Nico was very high on the list. Was an album definitely considered to be a “classic”. Listened through it on Spotify and and liked it enough to pirate onto the old computer. There it is. And I think ‘There She Goes…’ was one of my favourites on there from the beginning.

Now, ‘There She Goes…’ might sound, to some, like the most “normal” sounding song on the LP. I think its placement, following the seven-minute, two-chord opus of ‘Heroin’, was a very intentional choice. Sounds very normal compared to that. But then you go a little deeper, find out the song’s written about a frustrated prostitute, and it’s like “Oh, it’s not all that different.” Not so different in terms of themes of seedy, urban life that are a constant throughout the album, anyway. In terms of the performance, it’s definitely the most laidback out of the tracks that don’t feature vocalist Nico. It starts off with a musical quotation of Marvin Gaye’s ‘Hitch Hike’, which occurs again at various points as the song goes on, and the guitars all sort of chug along while Maureen Tucker thwacks away on the snare drum. I’ve never really thought about it before, but it also sounds like Lou Reed’s doing a bit of a Bob Dylan impersonation in the verses (“She down on here kneeees, my frieeend”). I can’t think of it as anything else now. But it all adds to the song’s character.

What I think is the real gem of the song comes in those “There she goes” harmonies that respond to Reed’s phrases during the verses. Those things are probably what got me hooked when I first heard it years ago. I believe they’re both done by fellow bandmember John Cale, and they make for great contrast of lightness to Reed’s gritter sing-talking. “There she goes agai– There she gooooes”. I can hear them in my head as I type it out to you. I don’t know, seems funny to have these innocent-sounding harmonies in a song about a working girl. But then again, that’s probably the whole point. Gotta dig how the track goes into double-time right at its end too. I’m a fan of it all. R.E.M. did a well-known cover. I prefer the original. Johnny Marr used the song’s opening as inspiration for the beginning of ‘There Is a Light That Never Goes Out’. The song has its admirers. I’ve read comments calling it filler. I’m not a fan of those comments.