Tag Archives: my ipod

#914: R.E.M. – New Test Leper

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Got a memory of listening to New Adventures in Hi-Fi for the first time. It’s a bit vague, but I remember where I was and when, all the essential things. Was in January 2018, and I was on a bit of an R.E.M. trip after revisiting Murmur after a few years and falling head over heels for it. The first two weeks of that month, I went into the office at my then new job, went onto Spotify and went through the band’s discography an album per day. I was the only one in there pretty much all the time, so I could play them all out of the loudspeakers while I was doing my duties or whatever. As a result, the lyrics usually went over my head, but the music always stuck out at some parts. ‘New Test Leper’ was one of the tracks from the album where these little moments piqued my ears quite a few times.

Always appreciated the overall tone of this track. It’s a swaying 6/8 time number with these layered acoustic guitars and a great melodic bassline from Mike Mills. Those times when the bass ascends during the chorus followed by Michael Stipe’s descending “hey, hey, hey” feel so satisfying. Stipe’s hushed and restrained vocal performance suits the track perfectly, can’t think of another R.E.M. track where he takes that sort of a approach. It’s quite a unique track. And you’d never think it was five and a half minutes long, despite what it might say on the CD or Wikipedia.

The track’s first line caused a bit of controversy among some Christians back in the day, where it seems that Michael Stipe is just disowning Jesus Christ. But listening on, the track reveals itself as a first-person account of a not-so-very religious person who finds themselves as the subject in front of a studio audience on a talk show. The narrator’s trying to get the audience and host to understand their point of view, but to no avail. The network cut to commercial, the host has no personality, the audience won’t listen, and overall the whole experience is a bit of a farce. I can’t think of another track that tried to merge religion with a cultural situation such as a talk show, and for that reason I think ‘New Test’ deserves some props. But on the whole, good music, great lyrics, brilliant performance all round. It’s a stellar track.

#913: The Who – New Song

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This here is ‘New Song’, the opener to The Who’s 1978 album Who Are You, one that many may argue to be their last great record solely due to the fact that it’s the last one Keith Moon played on before he died a few weeks after its release. I think it’s okay. The predominant use of synthesizers throughout definitely gives the album a sound of its own. Certainly unique compared to the albums that preceded came before. But they also make the album sound quite dated on there as a result. And ’cause of that lack of those usual balls-to-the-wall rock-and-roll performances, the majority of tracks don’t possess that power that The Who were usually known for. But I like this track though. I like it quite a bit.

At the time of its release, Who Are You was the arrival of new Who material in three years. In the period, all four members went their separate ways pursuing their own individual interests and journeys. But now they were back. And the first track was suitably titled ‘New Song’. So what would this about? Turned out it was a song about making music. Pete Townshend tackles the subject of writing songs in the cynical, joking, almost mocking way that only he could. He explains to the listener how hard it is to write material without inadvertently creating a song that’s been done in the past. How despite his aging appearance and his tendency to go to the bottle to drown his sorrows away, he can write a hit song that’ll get us all up on our feet and make everything okay. And how in the end, the new songs he writes aren’t really that different from those he’s written before, and yet we all come grovelling for more. It’s a track that self-deprecates as well as pokes fun at fans as well. Something to say the artists are chumps and so are the followers, but as long as the music’s there it’s all fine. I think that’s why I like it in a way, everyone gets a fair share of ridicule.

It’s a solid performance from all four Who members. As I said before, it’s not the manic teetering-out-of-control type of show that The Who would give in the past. Instead, it’s more of a controlled affair. Townshend seems to have put his guitar down to have more control on the synths, but he does come in with neat guitar fills and strident chords here and there. Daltrey sings almost each line with that trademark growl of his, but when the music changes and calls for a softer approach he obliges. Fair to say Keith Moon isn’t as spectacularly flamboyant with his drumming here, but he definitely still includes those fills that shouldn’t work but somehow do. There’s a moment at about 3:20 where I think he overlaps into the chorus a bit too late, but comes into it like nothing happens. Arguably the best performer on here is John Entwistle on the bass, who provides a drone-like atmosphere during the introduction and provides a standard rhythm during the verses, before going all funky on the choruses when the track goes into half-time. More than 40 years on, the album may not be The Who had their best, but there was a certain magic that always happened when the four individuals played together. Such a bummer Moon went so soon. Music goes on and all that, still.

#912: Beck – The New Pollution

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‘The New Pollution’ goes in that list of songs that I don’t have much of a deep association to. Didn’t appear at some crucial stage of my adolescence or any significant moment during my life. I may have seen the video for it on MTV2 one time and forgotten about it. But then I went and listened to Odelay once upon a time and couldn’t shake off its catchiness from then on. Bit unremarkable, I realise. But man, this song funks a large amount. Great groove. Couldn’t even try and come to a full understanding of what Beck’s talking about, but that goes for almost every track he wrote in the Odelay era.

In the track, Beck goes through a list of possessions and actions that a mysterious lady owns and carries out in her life. Very surreal things that definitely let a listener’s imagination run wild. Possessions include: A carburetor tied to the moon, a hand on a wheel of pain, a cigarette on each arm and a paradise camouflage. She’s able to sleep in a fiery bog while throwing troubles to the dying embers, among other things. And summing it all up comes the track’s refrain: “She’s alone in the new pollution.” What does that mean? To put it simple, I think it’s a way of saying she’s just another strange, strange girl living in a strange, strange world.

I enjoy the general loopiness of the whole track. So many elements are repeated endlessly from start to finish, I’m very sure the rhythm section rarely changes if at all. Or when instruments or new melodies are introduced, they come in for about four bars before dipping out again. Like that smooth saxophone that comes in at various points. The ‘doo-doo’ introduction is an earworm in itself. Reminds me of a loading menu in a game or something alongside those weird pinging noises and explosion-like sounds. A big nod goes out to the Dust Brothers production team who assisted on the making of the instrumentals throughout the album. They didn’t have to go as hard as they did. The video’s cool too. Going for a swinging-60s vibe. Far out, man.

#911: John Linnell – New Hampshire

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What struck me about John Linnell’s ‘New Hampshire’ when I first heard it coming to a decade ago, was how grand it sounded. From the start it gave me this image of a huge parade going through town with a marching band, floats, balloons, the lot, and that’s always persisted to this day. All of the music was performed via an arrangement that was then cut out on paper and inserted into the carousel organ in Glen Echo Park, Maryland. The video linked doesn’t show the track itself playing through that carousel, but just gives an example of how it works. The instrument is one that is used predominantly in Linnell’s State Songs album, but it’s this track that he imagined to be the ‘big tour de force’, incorporating the drums and glockenspiels that the Echo Park carousel provided. It’s the soundtrack to a grand day out. So it’s a bit of a whiplash when the lyrics describe a character who’s something of a loner and not really liked by anyone.

The track starts off with the narrator looking through a window into a party or some sort of social gathering, only let in by a polite but startled attendee, who is then very much rejected by the people they come into contact with. Linnell really lays it on thick that this character is someone that we shouldn’t like. They’re a gatecrashing parasite, they’re morose, a downer, broken-hearted. At most, they’re “very interesting.” Any stroke of luck they may have had in the past just so happened inadvertently. Very negative pronouns and adjectives abound. So it’s a huge ironic twist to have this person described to the sounds of twinkling glockenspiels, strident organ chords and a somewhat classical-influenced melody. It’s something that probably wouldn’t work if anyone else tried it, but it’s John Linnell, so there’s always a high probability that it will whenever he pursues that approach.

And so, the main message of this track is “No one likes New Hampshire man.” That’s pretty much it. It’s a dramatic march dedicated to an intolerable person. Though I’ve recently come to think that Linnell’s also sneakily singing “No one likes New Hampshire, man.” I wouldn’t put it past him, makes for a nice double meaning. Moments that stand out to me… that part during the second “Woman wonders…” section where it the track turns into a bit of a waltz? And when those clarinets come in right at the end mirroring the ‘No one likes New Hampshire man” line, before the track goes out on these slightly out of time chord strikes. Ends it all on this big “hurrah”. I really dig this live performance of the track with Linnell playing it on the accordion. Why not just watch the whole thing too, it’s one of only a couple Linnell solo 1999 shows you can find at the moment.

#910: Joy Division – New Dawn Fades

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Some may say this track is the quintessential Joy Division moment. The one that summed up everything the band was about and stood for. They have their popular ones, the songs that everyone know like ‘She’s Lost Control’ and ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’ goes without saying. But for those senses of insecurity, intensity, ambience, sadness with a sudden power, it’s ‘New Dawn Fades’ that tops the bill.

It slowly lures the listener in bit by bit, starting with Stephen Morris’ drum pattern that’s then joined by Peter Hook’s descending four-note bassline that barely changes throughout the entire duration. Bernard Sumner comes in with a sharp introductory guitar solo, very grimy in its tone as it moves amidst Hook’s bass and Morris’s drum fills. It’s all so sparse, everything reverberates in the spaces. And after a minute and 20 seconds, Ian Curtis creeps into frame with his vocals. Now, before listening to Unknown Pleasures for the first time, would have been years ago at this point, I’m fairly certain the only song I’d ever heard by the band was ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’. Going into it, I was expecting tracks that more or less followed the same formula of mid-tempo guitar rock where the lead vocals were barely above a murmur or whisper. Curtis yelling on ‘Disorder’ and ‘Day of the Lords’ were mindblowing to me because they were so unexpected. So when he really lets it out in his final verse completely wiped out. It’s such a climactic ending, and a powerful way to close out the album’s first half.

As for the song’s meaning, well, sort of knowing from far away what Curtis was going through in the Joy Division times, I think he’s writing from a point of view where he’s essentially a spirit looking at him living his life from a distance and not being immensely disappointed with what he sees. The dissociation allows him to enjoy some things just that little bit more, change of speed, style and all that, but then he sees himself and everything closes in again. It’s a bit basic to say, but it is depressing. Just thinking about how it all ended for Ian Curtis, it just brings in a lot of sadness. But his words and the music always provide that powerful light.