Tag Archives: my ipod

#1117: Nas – Represent

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Well, I can’t say I have this deep, meaningful history with Nas’s Illmatic. When I was going through the Best Ever Albums of All Time list on besteveralbums.com back around 2012/13, the album was one of the highest ranking hip-hop albums on there. Now, I wasn’t around in ’94 when Illmatic was released. I couldn’t give an impression of what initial reactions to it were by critics and the fans. But looking at the Wikipedia page, it appeared that it was a very big deal. A “landmark album of East Coast hip hop”, a “masterpiece”, “rhythmic perfection”. Illmatic’s shadow loomed so large that whenever Nas would release a new album, the new stuff would constantly be compared to it. That situation’s died down a little, now. But I’m sure whenever a hip-hop artist has a debut that’s considered a classic and other albums that aren’t as highly-regarded, they referred to as suffering from an “Illmatic situation”. That’s how much influence the album possesses.

It’s actually been a long time since I listened to the album in full. I should revisit it one of these days. I went through Nas’s discography in early 2018, a decision brought on by the release of then-new album NASIR. Although there were tracks from various albums that I thought were cool, the full-album experience on a lot of them couldn’t compare to that of Illmatic. Every album was around an hour long compared to Illmatic’s tight and compact 40-minute length. And even in that relatively short amount of time, Nas covered themes of authenticity, drug violence, his origins, and others with a flow, hunger and energy that was never truly matched in those albums that followed. With the level of maturity he approached each topic with, it’s easy to forget that he started work on the album at the age of 17, with it eventually being released when he was 20.

‘Represent’ is the ninth and penultimate track on the album. I can remember this one being an instant hit for me when I heard it that first time all those years ago. The opening rhythm got my head bopping. Then the ‘Represent, represent’ hook came in, and that was everything I needed, really. What followed were three immense verses from Nas. In the first, he “discusses” life in the projects where any minute could be your last as you could be taken out by anyone including Nas himself alongside the threat of being arrested by the police for pretty much anything. The second sees him describing the kind of person he is, where you’ll see him, what clothes you’ll find him wearing and how he’s fulfilled the rags to riches story. The final verse sees him expand on that latter point, where he emphasises on his satisfaction with the wealth he’s gained and how he could do with even more money. But he also notes that there’s the danger of losing it all. Even if he does, he has his boys from the projects that he knows will always have his back. He shouts them out in the outro; I’m sure some of them are among the people hollering and calling out. But it all revolves around that ‘represent’ hook. You’ve always got to remember where you’re from and the people who helped you when you make it big, and I think it’s a track like this that even raised Nas’s status in the ears of many listeners.

#1116: They Might Be Giants – Reprehensible

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This’ll be the last time I talk about They Might Be Giants’ Long Tall Weekend, I swear. No, really, it will be. It’s funny. Last time I wrote about a song from there before this ‘R’ section started was in 2022, and now two tracks off it arrive in relatively quick succession. Well, it’s been a trip. I think I more or less gave the gist about the context of Long Tall in the last post I did for it, but never gave the goods on how I came to listen to it initially. I actually think it was late March 2011, so hooray to 13 years of knowing it. I’d decided to go through TMBG’s discography starting late 2010; it had been a long time coming because they’d already been one of my favourite bands for years. Don’t think Spotify existed back then. It at least wasn’t popular to the extent it is now. But there was this website called we7.com that served the same sort of purpose. Long Tall was on there. I listened to it and once again, the Giants didn’t let me down. It was another fine album, I wasn’t surprised.

‘Reprehensible’ is the ninth track on there. Like ‘Certain People I Could Name’, like ‘Rat Patrol’ and ‘They Got Lost’ (a song I don’t like as much, but hey, what can you do), it’s a song that was recorded during the making of the band’s 1996 album Factory Showroom, but was left off for reasons that only the band would be able to explain to you. When I first heard it initially, I had the feeling that it was John Flansburgh singing it, though at some point I did wonder whether it was someone else. It isn’t. It’s definitely John Flansburgh. But the way he sings here is unlike any way he does on any other TMBG track he’s carried out lead vocals on. Would it be described as baritone? I’m not sure. Whatever it is, he sings it all low. Really from the belly too, so it has this breathy aspect to it that adds a depth and booming quality to it. It’s really cool. He would never sing so low on an album after Long Tall Weekend, maybe this song took it out of him. It’s most likely down to aging though.

The song is something of a showtune from the perspective of a bad, bad person who relishes in the fact they are indeed terrible. It’s a person who in their words has undergone ‘unerasable acts’ and committed ‘unspeakable crimes’. It’s also a person who’s lived for 10,000 years, in previous lives/times, so maybe it’s not a person at all. It’s an entity to say the least. Probably the devil, thinking about it. The soundscape is dominated by an enveloping horn section. If you think there’s something off-sounding about those horns, you wouldn’t be wrong, as they’re actually not real horns, but synthesized ones created by the use of a Mellotron. They almost drown the vocals out in those pre-choruses. They do add to the jazziness of the whole affair, though, already established by the swing feel, piano and brushes on the drums from the song’s very beginning. Flansburgh owns the track so well with his vocal presence and melody. So much so that you may be surprised when I tell you that John Linnell wrote it.

#1115: Big Thief – Replaced

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Any Big Thief fans out there remember 2019? That was a good year to be one, for sure. For me, it was by sheer luck that I became a follower of the group and songwriter Adrianne Lenker at the time, having found abysskiss through the Indieheads subreddit one day, liking that, and then being a little more intrigued by the singles from U.F.O.F. that followed shortly after. That album’s my favourite of Big Thief’s. Just putting that out there. But some months after that album’s release came the announcement of Two Hands, a surprise second album for the year, which was recorded immediately after sessions ceased for its predecessor.

The record contains one of the band’s most popular songs in the form of ‘Not’. Barack Obama named it as one of his songs of the year. I don’t think it’s too bad, myself. But we’re not here to talk about it. I already have. No, today’s post is dedicated to ‘Replaced’, the track that comes two songs later on Two Hands and gets the penultimate slot on the album. That second side in particular is probably one of the best in Big Thief’s whole discography. I’d give it a solid 9/10. You’ll see a couple more on this place as time goes on. Why I don’t give it the full marks is because there’s just one song on that half that I think is forgettable. But forget about that. It’s ‘Replaced’ time.

‘Replaced’ is the sole track on the album with a co-writing credit of Lenker and fellow guitarist Buck Meek. Who wrote which parts of the song I couldn’t tell you. I wonder if the music was mainly written by the latter with Lenker on the lyrics. The descending guitar riff that opens the track seems to influence Lenker’s vocal melody. Meek comes in to harmonise during those warm choruses, which leads me to believe that he at least played a part in the formation of them. What you hear on the album is the original demo for the song, recorded in February 2019 according to the liner notes, and the intimacy of it all comes through in the comforting, cosy feel of the performance. The song’s a mystery to me. Lenker could be singing about herself, about another person/other people, or taking the perspective of a character. What I’ve always thought, though, is that the line “Because in your room, we gather/To be replaced by the mystery of the heart” was about the band getting together to make some magic happen and produce some music fuelled by the abundant chemistry between the band members. It’s not a song that you can find solid answers about, so I’m throwing things out there. But with what I have, I think the song’s about Lenker/Meek’s piqued curiosity in their bandmates’ quirks (or each other’s) and the delight they have when playing together. It’s a sweet moment on the album. Definitely one of my highlights.

#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.