Tag Archives: my ipod

#938: Mac DeMarco – Nobody

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Three years ago on this day, Mac DeMarco released ‘All of Our Yesterdays’ – the second single from what was his forthcoming fourth album Here Comes the Cowboy. That’s a nice one, was an instant download for me. Would have its own post had it not been released six years after the blog. But just under a month before came the album’s first single, ‘Nobody’, a slow burner reminiscent of his work on This Old Dog that was also accompanied by its somewhat unsettling video featuring DeMarco heavily doused in make-up to resemble a reptilian-like creature.

The decision to do that was very much in line with the song’s theme. Mac describes himself as a creature put on display for people to entertain while feeling sad inside and wishing he could go back to the way things were before, when he wasn’t known as the indie jester-type character that people seen him as up until then. The music is light and forlorn, carried by this lightly plucked guitars – both acoustic and electric – and a droning keyboard that changes notes in accordance with the chord progressions throughout. That is one lonely keyboard, but its use really ties everything together. DeMarco delivers his vocal with the usual croon, but there’s a sigh-like quality to it that makes it all the more comforting.

The sentiment of feeling like an exhibition put out for display was reflected in the other videos DeMarco made during the ‘Cowboy’ era. That whole period was marked by a few other actions of his that got people talkin’. He deactivated his social media accounts. He prevented the public from commenting on and liking/disliking his videos on YouTube. All of this really left people wondering if he was okay for a while. Then the album came out and left a majority of fans disappointed. I think time’s been kinder to it. But it’s been the longest period of time between a Mac release since Rock and Roll Night Club way back when. Hopefully that’s because he runs his own label and so feels no pressure to work on music for now, rather than he not wanting to do music at all.

#937: Pixies – No. 13 Baby

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You go onto YouTube and search for this song. The majority of the comments go along the lines of “Man, this song’s good, but the ending though? Human perfection. Best endings of all time,” etcetera, etcetera. And, yeah, the song’s outro is quite special. But the rest of the song ain’t too bad. Black Francis/Frank Black sings with the usual unhinged style of vocal delivery, working well with the song’s theme of a stalker-like fascination with a lady. He describes the characteristics of this subject like some sort of mad scientist looking for another experiment, it’s quite menacing. The obsession is too much, as made clear in the “I’m in a state” repetition, and its seemingly never-ending fade-out ending signifies the endlessness of the situation. At least that’s how I like to think of it.

Doolittle is an album of subtle surprises. The lone guitar chord strum at the beginning of this one is just a small taste. But generally there will be elements of a certain track that you wouldn’t pick up on the first time, but after a number of listens make themselves more and more apparent. Like on ’13 Baby’, I never took into account how the verses are made of one chord that doesn’t progress into another until the choruses. Or how bassist Kim Deal just stops playing at certain points to highlight those bending guitar wails at various points. There’s also a subliminal shout-out during the choruses to a Los Angeles gang that was active around the time of the album’s making. The way it’s incorporated into them is real sneaky, once you get the melody and the words down you’ll barely know your singing it.

What’s peculiar about this track though is that the vocals are out of there after two minutes. The rest of the track is essentially its ending, what a lot of people love about it, consisting of a slow building of layers. Kim Deal and drummer David Lovering keep the track steady with the rhythm alongside Francis’ acoustic guitar. After a few measures, lead guitarist Joey Santiago rushes in with a frantic guitar fill. After that fades out, he re-enters with a dreamy arpeggiated chord that goes on and on before being drowned out by a wild rhythm guitar from Francis that sounds like it’s being strangled its chords are strummed. It’s all so hypnotizing up to that point, then that guitar adds a bit of nightmare fuel to the proceedings. It’s creepy, it’s sneaky, it all sounds so good. Pixies were very good at getting those things down.

#936: Cloud Nothings – No Thoughts

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All I can remember about ‘No Thoughts’ is that it was the last track from Cloud Nothings’ Here and Nowhere Else album that I added to my phone library. Now there were 5/8’s of the record instead of just half. I heard Here and Nowhere Else within the first week of its release in April 2014. There were tracks that immediately became favourites, two of which I’ve covered in this series. There were those I weren’t so keen on. ‘No Thoughts’ fell under a bit of a sleeper category. I’m sure I liked it, but clearly not enough. May have been a year or two until I really got it. And when it hit, it was instant.

Like the other tracks on ‘Nowhere Else’, ‘No Thoughts’ is propelled onward by harsh, overdriven guitar and a pummelling rhythm section, most notably driven by the crushing rush of Jayson Gerycz drums. Despite the wild nature of the band performance, the song is also carried by a great melody within the lyrics which helps bring some stability. One thing you have to admit about this track is… well, it’s a bit repetitive. But not in the way that repetition can irk some people. The second verse is the same as the first, but with a few subtle changes of words here and there. The chorus though, and the bridge, are made up of just one phrase or two. Just want to clarify I’m not complaining here. There’s something about the lyrical simplicity matched with the intensity of the music that all in all results in a fantastic combination.

That’s all I gotta say, I think. Just a great three-minute rush of noise rock on show here. A good time’s always had when hearing it, even if it does almost as quickly as it starts.

#935: Radiohead – No Surprises

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Again, I think this track falls into that group of those that seemed to have always existed in my life. Couldn’t pinpoint a particular time, event or moment where I saw/heard it for the first time and explain how I felt there and then. What I could tell you is that the music video was what introduced me to it. Though I want to say the guitar intro was used in a advert on television or something, that’s maybe my mind playing tricks on me. In the video, Thom Yorke’s head is miming to the song in a tank which slowly fills up with water. When it gets to the bridge, he’s fully submerged and he holds his breath until the end of the instrumental break, where the water flows out, he gasps for air, smiles ’cause he got the right take and closes his eyes as the song ends. The kid I was when I saw it wasn’t shocked at this. Really I wanted to see if I could hold my breath for that long too and tried on many occasions.

Before its release as a single in December 1997, ‘No Surprises’ would have been known as the tenth track on Radiohead’s OK Computer, the song that comes as a sweet, sweet lullaby-like tune after the somewhat terrifying ending to the preceding ‘Climbing Up the Walls’. The twinkling arpeggiated guitar intro begins alongside some light bass guitar work, and after a short computer boot-up-like sound, an acoustic guitar, glockenspiel and drums come in. Thom Yorke enters, singing in a much lower register than usual, providing lyrics filled with imagery that have very much given a number of people out there the idea that the song is about suicide. It very may well be. I’ve taken it as one that’s about just waiting for life to end with no hang-ups or sudden unexpected situations. The mentions of ‘carbon monoxide’, a ‘final fit’ and the harmonised cries of ‘let me out of here’ do steer the meaning more toward the suicidal route though. Maybe I’m the fool here.

Now, it’s one of Radiohead’s most well-known songs. Its release as a single helped, as did the video. It’s come a long way and taken a life of its own. You would think so, having been around for 25 years at this point. The band will get to the “Bring down the government/They don’t speak for us line” at live performances and the audience will holler and cheer in agreement. Some people may like it just for that line. I’d like to think that the large majority are struck by its warmth and comforting tones. Everything’s played so straight, yet it’s still so powerful. Also helps that it’s really easy to sing along to. Got beautiful melodies and hooks in abundance.

#934: Manic Street Preachers – No Surface All Feeling

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‘No Surface All Feeling’ was one of the last tracks Manic Street Preachers worked on as a quartet before the sudden disappearance of guitarist and lyricist Richey Edwards in February 1995. When he vanished, the band’s three remaining members went through a bit of a crisis wondering whether they should continue working together. Thankfully they did. Despite the circumstances, they got to work and returned in the spring of ’96 with Everything Must Go. The album contained a few tracks with some of Edwards’ lyrics that had been given to each member before he left, and ‘No Surface’ closes the record out as the full dedication to him.

A lot of the track’s elements seem to be directly taken from its original demo. While the demo pushes Edwards’ rhythm guitar right into the back of the mix with James Dean Bradfield’s lead guitar right up front, the decision was made – and suitably so – to make Edwards’ guitar prominent. His power chords effectively drown out Bradfield’s guitar and vocals during the introduction and the choruses. The lyrics of ‘No Surface’ were written by bassist Nicky Wire, and I can only think to describe them as the account of a man disenchanted with the rock ‘n’ roll life looking in the mirror and telling the listener what they see. Though Wire is essentially describing himself, the lyrics took on another level upon Edwards’ leaving.

Up to 1995, the Manics had established an image of being something of an outsider band. An outspoken one at that. Before they even had one album out there, they announced that it would be the greatest rock album ever. Wire wore dresses on stage. Edwards carved the words ‘4 Real’ into his forearm with a razor blade. They appeared on Top of the Pops wearing military clothing, Bradfield wore an IRA-style balaclava on his head. ‘No Surface’ was made to say that whatever they did or said or sung, it wasn’t for show. Every sentiment was straight from the heart.