Tag Archives: my ipod

#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.

#1109: …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead – Relative Ways

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So I guess that around May/June time will be 10 years since I first listened to Source Tags & Codes, the 2002 album by …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead. The album got the rare 10 rating on Pitchfork, a decision the publication even questioned themselves in the review for the next record the band made. But me being the Pitchfork-head I was a decade ago thought the album had to be really good, one-of-a-kind, if they gave it a 10. And, yeah, I was fully convinced on that first listen. The songs are dramatic, sometimes enchanting and mysterious, sometimes melodic, sometimes noisy… feelings and dynamic vary all across the spectrum. The band had three songwriters, and their personalities showed in the respective tracks they sing lead vocals on. I liked that aspect too.

Yet, with all that being said, it’s not an album I really seek to listen to in full these days. Been like that for a while, actually. I guess it just tapped into attitudes that the 19-year-old person I was had that the soon-to-be 29-year-old probably lost along the way. It’s a sad thing, to be sure. That doesn’t stop the fact that there are some great songs on there. Two of them I’ve already written about, I think they’re just timeless, and ‘Relative Ways’ is the third and final one from the album and by the band that’ll get a post on this place. I swear, it’s a coincidence that the three songs I like the most from the record are sung by guitarist Conrad Kelly. I would suggest ‘Heart in the Hand of the Matter‘ if you want to hear a song by drummer Jason Reece, or ‘Baudelaire’ by former bass player Neil Busch to get other perspectives. But I guess it’s Kelly’s work that left the largest impression.

‘Relative Ways’ marks the start of the reflective final leg of Source Tags…, which comes to an end with the emphatic title track closer, and, to me, it seems to be a case of a song that’s about the process of writing a song. Kelly expresses his difficulties in trying to sum up what he wants to say, what with literally everything that happens in the world, either naturally or manmade, but finds solace in that whatever happens will happen and it will all come together eventually. It could take a lifetime, or a couple of days, but the ideas will form and something will come out of it. I guess it must be rather frustrating being a person whose job it is to write songs but to feel like anything you try to compose is terrible, and Kelly envisions a saint coming down from the heavens to forgive for any mistakes he’s made that’ll help him to carry on. So overall, it’s a very optimistic song about letting things happen and self-forgiveness. It’s awesome, really. Moments I enjoy: The switch-up between 3/4 and 4/4 time in the instrumental breaks, Kelly’s shouting vocals for the song’s second half and how the guitars drown out his voice in the tension-building section near the end. Makes for some good, good listening.

#1108: Green Day – Reject

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Hey, look at that, another Green Day song. And so soon. Oh, and it’s from Nimrod again too. Well, that’s just swell. I couldn’t repeat how I came across it after having done that so recently. I’m at a bit of a loss here, people. What’s an introductory paragraph if I’ve already done the introduction in another recent post? I may have to write a little less for this post. And not because I don’t think this song’s any lesser than all the others on here. Merely because it’s just over two minutes in length, and it’s over as soon as you’ve blinked a couple hundred times. In the album where Green Day branched out and experimented with their sound a little, ‘Reject’ is one of the few outright punk rock tracks on there that brings things to familiar territory.

The backstory of the song’s lyrical subject matter is quite humorous. In 1996, Billie Joe Armstrong received a letter from a disgruntled mother whose son received a copy of the band’s Insomniac album for their birthday. Now, you’d ask what was she expecting? I would agree with you. It’s like someone in the family had no idea who Green Day was and got the son this present. Or the son knew exactly what music the band made and was trying to hide it. Anyway, Armstrong got this letter, thought the sentiment was stupid and wrote a reply – a lyric in ‘Reject’ is taken verbatim from it. The rest of the song’s lyrics are what I guess to be an extension of what he would have wanted to write to this parent, had he thought it was worth the ink he was writing with.

Coming right after a slower, walking-paced track on the album, ‘Reject’ makes its presence known immediately with a commanding drum fill from Tré Cool before the rest of the band launch into frame and Armstrong delivers the song’s first line. The track is fast and furious (sorry) in its delivery. The rhythm’s punchy and emphatic, I’m a fan of the open/closed hi-hat work from Cool during the verses, and those chord changes in the “You’re not my type” sections are pretty awesome too. The second verse comes along with more of the same with the second chorus following after. Dirnt takes the forefront in the breakdown with some really fast octave-jumping bass work before the band build some tension, staying on one chord for a matter of moments before finishing it all off with a strong finish. The track’s a good kick-out-the-jams moment at the time it arrives on Nimrod. Like I said, I think it’s just a reminder that the band could still deliver some good, ol’ fast punk rock if listeners were feeling their way through the changes in style that happened between the album’s songs up to that point. And it’s some good work, that’s all I can say.