Tag Archives: my ipod

#1114: Manic Street Preachers – Removables

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And so we reach another moment where a song from a specific album won’t be showing up again in this “series”. Everything Must Go by Manic Street Preachers has a solid spot in my top three favourite albums by the trio. Released after a year of adversity instigated by the disappearance of guitarist and lyricist Richey Edwards, the album was like a phoenix rising from the ashes, as it gained critical and commercial success spurred on by its “hits” like its Bond-esque theme title track and the classic ‘A Design for Life’. Had the stars aligned, there would be two more posts on here dedicated to ‘Australia’ and ‘Enola/Alone’. That would be over half the album on here. Things just don’t work out how they’re meant to sometimes.

‘Removables’ is the album’s eighth track and has the distinct characteristic of being the rawest, bare-boned song on there, both in its lyrics and its music. The song is one where its words are written entirely by Edwards, who (to understate it in the largest of ways) wasn’t in the best state of mind before his sudden disappearance, and appear to be a general account of his thoughts about himself and the human race as a whole. A possible reference to his self-harming (“Broken hands never ending”) and a hope for any voice of reason to get him out of an ‘aimless rut’ are stated. The bleak outlook is summarised in the song’s chorus. “All removables/All transitory.” People walk by and think nothing of you, you’ll never see them again. People are born and then people die. Nothing is meant for forever. Honestly, it’s all quite sad.

In terms of the music, the band allegedly cut the song in one take and put little time into its production. You can sort of tell too. Maybe apart from a few guitar overdubs, the track does have a grittier, modest type of production to it that sets it apart from almost every other number on the album. It follows somewhat simple chord progressions all throughout, switching from a sadder minor key in the first half of the choruses to a confident major one for the second. And the big highlight is probably when James Dean Bradfields breaks into his shouty vocal style in the second chorus, with a simmering tension built from the minor key underneath it. The arpegiatted chords that trail off and sort of linger at the song’s end leaves things just a bit unresolved and unsettling. ‘Australia’ starts right after it, though, and takes you on a whole other journey altogether. ‘Removables’ may not be a song that the majority of Manics fans return to. I don’t know, I just have that feeling. But it’s one of my favourites, so I hope what I say hear will urge you to listen.

#1113: Röyksopp – Remind Me

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Ah, Röyksopp. It’s been a long while since I’ve written about a song by those guys. I won’t lie, I don’t know the duo all that much to write so much on their background if anyone reading was interested in that aspect. All I know is that ‘Happy Up Here’ had been in my iTunes library for some time, and there was a point during 2014/15 where I was looking for albums to listen to that were a little less guitar-centric. Röyksopp fit the bill. Their debut album Melody A.M. appeared to have received some fairly positive reviews, so I went for it. I can say it’s a pretty good record. I didn’t know what to expect when pressing play that first time. I was actually shocked when it came to its opening track. But I’ll save that for another post. What matters today is the album’s eighth track, ‘Remind Me’.

The tune was one that I had heard many years before when its music video played on one of those music channels. Don’t think it was MTV that time, but it was definitely one of them. What had remained in my head from that viewing up to the point of going through Melody A.M. was the song’s hook, “Remind, remind, remind me/Remind, remind, remind me”. Everything else I’d forgotten. So I was looking forward to hearing the song again, almost as if it were actually the first time. The track eventually arrived. But something was off. That hook that I had remembered for so long never arrived. Also, the song sounded totally different from how I recalled it. Well, it turned out that the music video utilised the single version of the track, which was a remix made by an obscure artist going by Someone Else. Probably because the album version didn’t have a clear chorus, which this remix rectified. I was unsure on how this ‘new’ album version sounded. But after giving it a few more plays, I came to appreciate it greatly. It was if that single version never existed.

In comparison to that single version (below), which is much more busier with a thumping beat and a commanding presence, the version on the album has an empty shopping mall/elevator/waiting room-music vibe to it (something I actually really like about it, makes for some really easy listening) that I think works to emphasise the melancholic nature of the lyrics, concerning the buzzkill of returning home after a hectic, busy time away and an attempt of rekindling a relationship that doesn’t go to well, as sung by Kings of Convenience vocalist Erlend Øye. Where a chorus would usually appear after the song’s first verse is replaced by an endearing keyboard refrain, mirroring the established vocal melody. The track’s beat kicks in after that little keyboard break adding a bit of momentum to the proceedings, but not so much that it overbears the soundscape. And these bleeps and bloops arrive in the mix before the final chorus, followed by a subtle, subtle guitar that suddenly appears during it. The track fades into silence, and it’s a bummer when it finishes. Not just because the song’s over, but also because this isn’t one of the most happiest songs out there. Leaves you feeling reflective and all that.

#1112: Kings of Leon – Rememo

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On the last Kings of Leon post on here, I made note that the Aha Shake Heartbreak era of the band was the one that properly introduced me to them, in terms of me actually knowing what the members looked like, who played what, what each member’s name was, et cetera, et cetera. And it’s true. The video for ‘The Bucket’ came on TV one day, it was those guys who had ‘Red Morning Light’ on FIFA 2004, and then from that point on, Kings of Leon would be a regular occurrence throughout my lifetime. The videos for ‘Four Kicks’ and ‘King of the Rodeo’ followed, both songs that I thought were great in 2005 and still hold up today in my eyes. So three successful singles out of three, that’s 100%. Sounds like an instant purchase, right? Well, you’d think. I didn’t get Aha Shake… until years later. I think as a Christmas gift in 2008. I remember because it was during a verse of ‘Pistol of Fire’ that my cousin asked me why I listened to the kind of music I did. Good times.

Depending on which continent you live, ‘Rememo’ is either the album closer, or the record’s penultimate track before it truly ends with the bonus song ‘Where Nobody Knows’. Being from the UK, I’m one of those who fall in the latter. Thus I also got the version of the album with the alternate cover (which I want to say a lot of people prefer to the original) and a nice family picture of the band as kids, hidden underneath the CD tray. The track brings the proceedings to a close (or near-close) with a relaxing, sleep-inducing waltz-timed tune. The melody only relies on two notes (both from the vocals perspective and on the guitars’ too), but it’s that simplicity on those fronts that make ‘Rememo’ one of the album’s sneaky high points for me. It’s almost like a lullaby. Its lyrics aren’t as innocent as those that you would find in those, though.

A prevalent theme that runs throughout the lyrics Aha Shake… is the pursuit of women and wanting to get with them, and it makes an appearance yet again on ‘Rememo’. In the first few lines too. “The giggling virgin overlooking me” in the second verse was something that I thought was referring to the Virgin Mary. You know, like the narrator’s living this weary, tired life and the Virgin Mary witnesses overhead and laughs with forgiveness. But it may just be referring to the point of view the narrator has while looking up at a girl he’s having sex with. Gotta say I like my interpretation more. In an interview with Zane Lowe, Caleb Followill mentioned that the “dripping beard as cold as hell…” refrain was one that didn’t go down too well with his parents because of the foul language. Wish I could find that interview, but looks like not even YouTube has it. I swear the interview happened though. The track doesn’t say much of anything, it doesn’t matter anyway as Followill even sings, but he writes it as a reminder/memo to himself that he feels the way he does and writes it as a gift to the audience. Eventually it tails off on a whimsical turn, feels like stumbling upon this old, abandoned carousel, where these (I think) woodwinds enter the frame – I think they’re keyboard generated anyway – with these occasional chimes and rickety drum patterns. There’s a good sense of closure here. Then ‘Where Nobody Knows’ sort of reinforces it as a bonus.

#1111: John Lennon – Remember

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And with this, all the songs I really, really like from John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band album have been written about. You’ll see no more material from the record on here. It’s been a fun run. Just over half of the album covered, beginning with ‘God’ in 2015. Check out the writing from this dude. I’m gonna say that I would have mentioned in any of those posts that the specific album is one of my favourite solo Beatles albums, if not the favourite. Lennon was going through primal therapy and used it, alongside other traumas, to make some powerful music with good mates Ringo Starr (on drums, obviously) and Klaus Voorman on bass guitar. October 2010 marked the month of what would’ve been Lennon’s 70th birthday, and I think I must have downloaded the album sometime during those four weeks. I’d have to check the old computer to be certain. I was a relatively new Beatles fanatic at that point, and Plastic Ono Band was an instant hit for me. As was ‘Remember’, the sixth song on the album, even if it may be one of the least popular on there. At least that’s what I gather from the Spotify numbers.

I remember (couldn’t avoid it, sorry) being confused by the song’s rhythm for the longest time. Those moments where Lennon goes a half-step down on the piano when he’s stomping away at it during the verses – at least I think it’s a half-step – would throw me off when I would count along to it. It led me to believe that there were bars of 11/4 or 15/4 during those sections. Big tip, there isn’t. It’s all in 4/4. There is a bit of polyrhythm going on in the song’s intro though. Lennon and Voorman play their respective instruments in 3/4 while Ringo’s pounding away in standard time. Then when Lennon starts singing 13 seconds in, Starr does a little correction so that the beat doesn’t end up inverting during the verses. It’s a little moment like that where you gotta appreciate the dude. Also, if you read the song’s Wikipedia article, it states that the track was developed by an unplanned improvised coda that occurred during the recording of the Beatles’ ‘Something’ from Abbey Road. If you never believed it, it’s true. Lennon breaks out into the riff on the piano and the rest of the band join in with him. I even remember that take being on YouTube once upon a time and it being much longer too. But hey, gotta make with what you have.

In terms of the lyrics, ‘Remember’ sees Lennon thinking back on his childhood… Well, he’s telling us to look back on our childhoods, but there’s some self-reflection there too, and think about how things seemed to be so black-and-white during those days. The good guys won, the bad people lost because that’s how it was always shown on TV. How people would be always be so much taller and you couldn’t do anything to them because you were just a kid and pretty much insignificant. Mums and dads were wishing for better lives but maybe not following through on to actually achieve them. That last point is probably more aimed towards himself, seeing as his dad left him and his mother was killed and all. But with all that being said, he’s telling us to remember today, the present, the here and now, because all that matters, and to not have any regrets for how things have gone in so far in your life. So it’s a mirror of emotions going on here, mirrored by the change from a minor key (in the verses) to a major one (for the choruses). I’ve always appreciated the ‘Fifth of November’ nursery rhyme reference right at the end too. The first time I heard the song and Lennon sang ‘Remember’ twice, I was wondering if that’s where he was gonna go. And he did. That capped it off for me.

#1110: Seeed – Release

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Well, well, looks like we’ve got another song here that I have to thank the people of EA Sports for. They didn’t create it, obviously. It’s but another of the plenty tracks they thought were worthy of inclusion in one of their soundtracks. I’ve always wondered how that process goes down… Yet again, it’s the FIFA series that Seeed’s ‘Release’ was used, this time in the 2005 iteration of the game. Not 2004, no. Though it would have been 2004 when the game was released. That soundtrack didn’t disappoint either. Had a varied selection from The Streets, Flogging Molly, New Order, Morrissey, and many, many others. But it was this particular track, a
rousing dancehall number, that honestly came to be one of my favourite tracks ever to be used in a FIFA soundtrack.

When you hear the song for the first time, you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking that the group would be from the Caribbean. Most likely Jamaica. I mean, the chorus comes in, you hear the dialect/accent the vocalists are singing with and you just assume. I know that’s what I did when I was nine. But it turned out Seeed were a group from Germany who were just really into their dancehall and reggae. Germans doing Caribbean music was something that sounded so strange to the simple kid I was. But it didn’t matter because every time the song came on in the menu screen, I would stop myself from playing matches just to let the whole thing play out. Seeed is a collective of many members, but it’s the three frontmen (Peter Fox, Dellé, and Boundzound – who I just found out while writing this, passed away in 2018) who take up the brunt of the vocals in their music.

‘Release’ is the fourth track on the group’s 2003 Music Monks album, something I should probably listen to just for the hell of it one of these days, and is a call to the heavens above for a break from life. As everyone knows, life in general can be hard a lot of the time. The people of Seeed recognise this too, and wish for a divine intervention that provides ‘sunshine and peace’ with a side of some good music, a loving lady, mariijuana and alcohol – of course EA Sports couldn’t endorse the latter two, so mentions of ‘smoking trees’ and ‘rum’ were censored in the FIFA game. Fox tells the listener that the music of Seeed helps to get rid of any negative feelings in the first verse, Dellé lines out the pressures of the music industry in the second, and Boundzound expresses the pleasures he has in being able to do what he wants while also looking for the girl who might just be the one. A sweet, summery song about relaxation, which I think we can all do with every once in a while. Weird to think I’ve known the song almost 20 years. Still sound so great as it did then. Also, there’s this other version of the song where the keyboards(?) play the melody of The Cure’s ‘Close to Me’. I don’t know where it came from, it’s not the version I’m used to, but I’ll embed it below anyway. Plus, I’ll put in the album version too, cause why not.