Tag Archives: my ipod

#1070: The Raconteurs – Pull This Blanket Off

2 Replies

Feels like it’s been ages since I last wrote about a Raconteurs song. Actually, it was only a few months ago. But I was thinking that it was even before they had released their most recent album, which is already almost four years old. I listened through Help Us Stranger once. I think once was all I needed, it didn’t leave much of an impression. Nah, Consolers of the Lonely is still the greatest album Brendan Benson, Jack White and co ever did. I’d go ahead even further and say that I think it’s one of the last and best big guitar-centric rock albums to come from the 00s before the whole indie explosion that seemed to erupt from about 2009 onwards. That’s right, this nobody has made this exaggerated statement that anyone will take with a pinch of salt.

I do thoroughly enjoy this album though. A lot of things Jack White’s involved in, I’m not too much a fan of. I like White Stripes songs here and there. Never bothered with his solo stuff. Too much of him is too much for me. But when he’s combined with Benson, I don’t know, something just changes. ‘Pull This Blanket Off’ is yet another example from Consolers… where the dynamic between the two brings the musical touches up a notch. It’s the album’s shortest track, clocking in at just under two minutes. You could consider it to be nothing more than a bit of an interlude moment. But there’s such a dramatic, yearning quality within that I think makes it deserve as much attention as the more “substantive” songs that are alongside it.

White sings the first verse, Benson sings the second, and after an ‘ah-ah’ refrain and short instrumental break, the two harmonise in the next two verses accompanied by the introduction of a warm, thick bass guitar, a patient kick drum and a steady tambourine. What the track is about, I don’t think anyone’s really cared to fully get into. Not from what I can see on the Internet anyway. But I feel like there’s something that’s meant to be very American/patriotic about it. Like the narrator’s trying to believe in this American Dream ideal and trying to stick by their morals, but is disillusioned by their community or things they’ve experienced in their lifetime. It doesn’t get too deep into the message because before you know it, the track comes to an early albeit resolving conclusion with Benson seeing the listener off with a comic “All right, good night.” ‘Rich Kid Blues’, the track that follows, is a bit of a continuation of the theme here though, at least I’d say it is, and that’s 4 and a half minutes in length. I’d suggest you listen to them both in quick succession.

#1069: Test Icicles – Pull the Lever

Leave a reply

Rory Attwell, or ‘Raary Decichells’ as he went by as a member of Test Icicles, would usually change his voice entirely whenever it came to delivering vocals for tracks he had written for the band. You’ll hear his normal speaking voice and probably think what he’s trying to achieve when listening to ‘Pull the Lever’ or ‘Dancing on Pegs’ for example. Think it’s fair that any first time listener would be thrown off. It’s only properly dawned on me how strange it may sound. But funnily enough, the three songs he contributed to Test Icicles’ For Screening Purposes Only album, and a B-side that was left off, are among my favourites to listen to generally. They’ll get their posts someday. I’ve covered one already, which has been linked. And today’s is ‘Pull the Lever’ the second track from that record.

There’s not much of a long-winded, melodramatic story about how much this song means to me that I can give you. I listened to that Test Icicles album in 2010 after sort of forgetting about them for a while after the band split in 2006. ‘Pull the Lever’ came on, and when that harmonised vocal came in on the first chorus I recall it becoming a favourite almost instantly. It sounded so nice in contrast to the busier verses. Those are led by this busy, quirky punk guitar riff (played by Sam Mehran) and blaring keyboard stabs (courtesy of Dev Hynes) while Attwell exclaims about nothing much in particular, but then suddenly transition into the more melodic choruses where Attwell calmly sings the refrain. The post-chorus occurs with Attwell returning to that barking-like vocal before an instrumental breaks takes us back to the second verse to repeat the rounds again.

When I talk about Attwell ranting about ‘nothing in particular’, I don’t mean to give the idea that you shouldn’t pay any attention to the words in the song. But even the band admit that they were an afterthought, and were very much so for the majority of the album. They do sound good alongside the music though. Sometimes it’s those kinds of lyrics (where not much thought has been put into them, but not so much that it doesn’t look like they’re not trying at all) that somehow work out the best in songs. I tend to be attracted to those types, anyway. I don’t think I have anything of value to add anymore, so below’s a video of the band performing the track live for the BBC. If you like what you hear, it’s good to see the band in action.

#1068: Pavement – Pueblo

Leave a reply

For a while in 2018/19, I was into buying 33 1/3 books that had been written and dedicated to albums that I greatly appreciated myself. Off the top of my head, I own the ones written for R.E.M.’s Murmur, The Village Green Preservation Society by The Kinks, Talking Heads’ Fear of Music and Television’s Marquee Moon. I’m sure there are a few others too. Being the Pavement fan I am, it only made sense to get the edition dedicated to Wowee Zowee. Now, at this moment in time, I can’t really remember anything much from it. I read it the one time and felt that I didn’t really need to again. But I did learn a few things that I would have never thought about before. Like how Malkmus recorded the guitar solo for ‘Rattled by the Rush’. Or how he played all the instruments on ‘AT&T’.

A large amount of the book is taken from an interview with Stephen Malkmus in which he reveals all this stuff. While mentioning the things noted in the paragraph before, he also stated that when time came to record the vocals, the majority of them were made on the spot with a mix of also having some stuff written down to help guide him along. I have a clear memory of reading this, anyone can correct me. But I do recall him mentioning that ‘Pueblo’ was one of the songs to receive this treatment. You can probably tell by looking at the lyrics anyway. What Malkmus is singing about here is anyone’s guess, but the melody mirrors that of the guitar during the verses so at least that gets into your head during the initial listen.

The track consists of a verse and a chorus and another verse and chorus, separated by a chill instrumental break with a few guitar freak outs. Probably the most notable part of the whole song is when Stephen Malkmus amps up the intensity of his vocal from the second verse into the final chorus, in which he’s more yelling at the listener rather than singing. After all this, the song funnily ends on a bit of a damp squib – like the band had no idea to properly end everything, so they sort of just stop playing. But in the context of Wowee Zowee, its oddities should come as no surprise. If any reader out there is a big, big fan of the song, it’ll be worth to check out the work-in-progress versions of the song that were released on the Crooked Rain deluxe edition from 2004. The ‘Beach Boys’ take makes sense when you hear it, and the ‘Domain’ version is something that sounds like it could have fit on Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain itself.

#1067: Television – Prove It

1 Reply

Looks like this’ll be the first time I’ve ever written about a Television song on this website. That’s something to note, I guess. My own history/knowledge of the band doesn’t go that far. I believe I listened to Marquee Moon in full, I want to say in late 2012/13, just ’cause it was regarded to be a classic and the whole thing about the New York CBGBs punk scene of the mid-’70s. ‘Course I’ve listened to it over and over again as the years have gone by. Only recently did I go through it again because of its inclusion in the 1001 Albums You Must Hear book, and then not too long after the band’s songwriter Tom Verlaine passed away. I read a comment somewhere that suggested that the album’s first half supersedes its second by a large margin, but I would like to go ahead and respectfully disagree with the statement.

‘Prove It’ is the album’s penultimate track and has for a long time been one of my favourites from Marquee Moon. The record as a whole should be considered any budding guitarist’s dream, filled with memorable riffs, scales, solos, breaks and all sorts, a glowing interplay between rhythm guitarist Verlaine and the lead guitarist Richard Lloyd, present on every single track. It’s mainly the use of those that drew me towards eventually properly appreciating this particular song. Then everything else seemed to follow. Verlaine’s lyricism on the album tends to concern nighttime scenery, nature and the human condition. That’s no different in ‘Prove It’. It’s just that in the chorus, Verlaine appears to take on the perspective of a detective who’s trying desperately to solve their case. What that case is isn’t obviously made within the verses, but I would like to say that’s something that adds to its appeal.

I also appreciate the musical parts that mirror what is being stated in the lyrics at various points. Take when drummer Billy Ficca executes a fast drum roll and cymbal crash after Verlaine sings about leaping about 100 feet in the air, or when he also messes with the track tempo again after Verlaine sings about a rose that slows. Verlaine also whistles after singing about birds chirping. I don’t know, I take delight in those small moments anyway. They add a bit of a quirky element while still remaining effortlessly cool. I don’t think I have much to add past this point. If you’ve read up to here, thank you for your time. Songs from Marquee Moon came quite late to the game on my phone. Had it been different, ‘Elevation’ would have got its own post, for sure. There are a couple more Television tracks to come in this series.

#1066: They Might Be Giants – Protagonist

Leave a reply

Every once in a while, it comes to a point where I have to write about yet another song from They Might Be Giants’ Join Us album from 2011. I think that album’s just swell and, if any of you readers have been with me on here for a long time, you’ll probably know my positive opinions on it. I think I may have just mentioned them on every post from Join Us that I’ve done The last post I did for a song on here was a number of months ago for ‘Old Pine Box’, the album’s third track and one that’s also written and sung by John Flansburgh. And coincidentally today’s song ‘Protagonist’ was also written by the man, this time arriving as the tenth number and opening the record’s second half.

Thinking to back to my initial reaction when I first heard it as a 16-year-old, I recall making fun of Flansburgh’s abrupt change in vocal delivery between his soft, gentle tone for the first two lines and the somewhat sterner, almost robotic tone for the lines that follow. He alternates between those two styles for the majority of the song. But it wasn’t too long before realizing that the changes were meant to reflect a switch in the narrative voice. You see, ‘Protagonist’ tells the story of someone who’s girlfriend has left them for another man, but that whole situation in itself appears to be the subject of a script, with locations and characters involved in the break-up being noted in… I guess what would be called the script notes. If any screenwriters could assist with the jargon. So Flansburgh captures these two voices by changing up his vocal style, taking on the roles of both the brokenhearted man and the detached script. Also a brief moment during the bridge where he takes on another voice as a sort of passive narrator who passes on some wisdom onto the listener, even poking fun at the unusual manner that the lyrics have been set out in the process.

Musically, it doesn’t sound too far off from something that you would find in one of those old-school musical films or Broadway shows. Considering the whole purpose of the song’s lyricism, I’d have to think that the choices must have been intentional. Instead of the familiar sound of drum sticks hitting the snare, finger clicks keep the rhythm swinging alongside sweeping brushes on the snare. Smooth ‘ooh’ harmonising backing vocals arrive at points to add some more melodic hooks Keyboard-manufactured strings are performed pizzicato style, arriving into the mix during the bridge, and are then followed by the inclusion of some trumpets that make their welcome for only a brief moment before never being heard from again. Elements are added bit by bit as the track goes along, subtly but very much effective. When it comes down to it, ‘Protagonist’ is a sweet, sweet song about heartbreak though with a little twist in its setup, which I can only give props to John Flansburgh for trying out. Moves like that only show why TMBG are as great as they are in my books.