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#930: They Might Be Giants – No One Knows My Plan

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They Might Be Giants’ 1994 album John Henry was the first where Johns Linnell and Flansburgh were accompanied by a live band rather than the drum machines and synth-instruments that had been their go-to method up to that point. Upon the album’s arrival, fans were greeted with guitar-prominent instrumentals, an actual bass guitar and live drums, and brass. There’s a lot of horns on this album. Today’s track, ‘No One Knows My Plan’, is one of those tracks to feature them. Brass can sometimes be one of those instrumental groups where, if heard too much in one sitting, they can be a bit overbearing. But you’ve got to appreciate the instrumental melody of the trumpet that triumphantly opens this song. Once you do that, it’s plain sailing from there.

The track arrives at the album’s midpoint, acting as something of an opener to its second half. With its conga-esque rhythms and ascending/descending scale riffs, it helps pick up the momentum after the contemplative turn the preceding song takes. In ‘No One Knows…’, the narrator is planning an escape from a prison cell, and the track is practically the tale of the narrator’s thoughts, feelings and experiences they’ve had while trying to fulfil this act. They tried to escape before, but have since realised that they’ve had to change their tactics. They’re always scheming, but they’ll never tell anyone the full angle. All this described under a skipping drum pattern, a horn group that undergo the role that a rhythm guitar would usually cover, and with a reference to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave put in for good measure.

This one’s been a favourite of mine for the longest time. Not just from John Henry, but out of the whole TMBG catalogue. The melody’s so infectious. Once you’ve got that in your head, it’s hard to get rid of it. I’ll go ahead and admit that the album in particular isn’t one of my favourites by They, but it’s not without its highlights. ‘No One Knows…’ is for sure one of them. Back in the day, someone at the Cartoon Network offices must have liked the track too. It was used as the intro music to Cartoon Planet for a while.

#894: Jay Reatard – My Shadow

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I remember the news of Jay Reatard’s death appearing on the NME website in January 2010 and thinking, “That sucks,” and moving on to another thing. I was 14 at the time, cut me a bit of slack. What else do you do when someone that you don’t know dies? You know that he was important to many other people, so that’s always a downer. I just never listened to his music to feel very strongly about it. After that I still didn’t think to find out more about Reatard. Had too much school stuff going on. Years passed and it was suddenly late 2015, I was working at Songlines magazine, and his track ‘Oh It’s Such a Shame’ appeared in my Spotify Discover Weekly playlist. Then I realised I might have missed out on something.

Things led to another and there I was listening to Blood Visions. A thing to note about this album is that it is loud. ‘Death Is Forming’ will start playing on my phone when I’m listening on shuffle and it will make me jump from how loud that first crash cymbal is. Damn good song though. But we’re not hear to talk about that. It’s ‘My Shadow’ time. That track is the longest one on the album, only at three minutes and 18 seconds, but still has that furious, fast and powerful approach that’s consistent throughout.

One interpretation I read about this track is that it’s from the POV of a narrator afraid of their own shadow. Another stated that it was part of a whole story that runs through the album, detailing a murderer who has become obsessed with this girl who he’s determined to make his next victim. While those may or may not be true, I’m mainly focusing on those guitars and Reatard’s vocals too. He’s got that faux-British vocal thing going on that some American punk rock singers tend to use, and he’s kinda got this melodic wailing thing going throughout the verses that then change to some howling screams in the choruses. It’s good stuff.

#893: Mac DeMarco – My Old Man

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‘Twas a day in my very last semester of university when Mac DeMarco’s old record label uploaded two new songs from his then upcoming album This Old Dog on its official YouTube page. One was the album’s title track, and the other was today’s subject, the album opener, ‘My Old Man’. Having been a fan of Mac’s for almost three years at that point, we’re talking January 2017 here, there wasn’t any better news. But when I first remember hearing them, I kinda felt a bit underwhelmed. That jangly guitar was gone and was replaced by a great presence of the good ol’ acoustic. They were generally a lot calmer and restrained in their delivery. I thought they were just okay. I did however grow fonder of ‘My Old Man’ when the album was released a few months later and I decided to listen to it with proper headphones. Why I had been listening to those initial videos through my phone until is a decision I’m puzzled by, thinking about it now.

Once I used those headphones, I found that the listening experience was almost somewhat the same. Obviously, the track sounded better in the ears. But I heard the same acoustic guitars, Mac’s vocals. That was all well and good. What I wasn’t prepared for was that subtle bass with those pulsing keyboard touches that come in during the chorus. It was those elements that lifted the track to all-star status for me. It changed for me in that instant. And once that happened I was really exciting for the rest of the album that was to come. This was a new Mac DeMarco, and I for one welcomed this new direction he was going in with open arms.

And what is the track about? Something I think that a lot of guys can relate to, looking in the mirror one day and thinking, “Damn. I’m old. I’m starting to look a bit like Dad.” Though in Mac’s case, it’s not the greatest of revelations for him as his relationship with his father was far from great. There are a lot of articles about it online you can read. I’m sure there’s a section about it on his Wiki page too. Though if you’re only slightly interested in it, there is that quite sad video of his dad showing up in a parking lot before one of his shows and leaving soon afterwards. There is the theme of his dad in the song, and in many other tracks within the album for that matter, but I do think that generally the track is about reflecting on physical and mental being after living a particularly hectic lifestyle, something that Mac DeMarco could truly write about from pure experience.

#892: Weezer – My Name Is Jonas

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One of the greatest album openers to ever exist? It might just be. I’ve had a physical copy of Weezer’s Blue Album for so long now, almost all of its lyrics and guitar parts and vocal embellishments… guitar feedback, you name it, are all embedded in that thick head of mine. And that album begins with this song, one that I want to say I can remember properly hearing for the first time in 2006 on proper quadrophonic computer speakers that my uncle installed because he was a nerd about that sort of stuff, pausing and rewinding at certain parts because I was so wowed that guitars were playing different things in each speaker.

The acoustic riff, written by the band’s original guitarist who left before the album was finished, that starts everything off is all jolly and unassuming. Then Rivers Cuomo comes in with the track’s first line alongside the band proper, and from then on it’s a whole different ball game. With its 6/8 timing, the track has this huge swaying momentum – heave-hoing back and forth with that wall of crunchy guitars. And the fact that this track doesn’t have a real chorus means that there isn’t a break or change of some sort. Sure there are those parts where the guitars fade and let the acoustic riff come in, but then they launch back into the frame again. Every section seamlessly rolls into the next, culminating with that final “Yeah, yeah, yeaaaargh”. Musically, it really throws you all over the place. Pulling and pushing, lifting you up and then gently placing you down.

Sometimes I kind of forget that there are words to this track that you have to follow. The lyrics aren’t necessarily about one thing. They touch upon nostalgia, childhood… memories in general. One main point in there is when Cuomo recollects a phone call he received from his little brother who had (then) recently been in an accident at work. But there’s such an towering confidence in the delivery of these words that it’s easy to let them just wash over you. Melody’s fantastic. I remember reading somewhere that after Kurt Cobain killed himself, kids found their next musical saviours in Weezer when the Blue Album arrived. And dammit if “My Name Is Jonas” didn’t get their hopes up when they popped the album into their computers, then I don’t know what more they could have wanted.

#891: They Might Be Giants – My Man

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Mink Car, the album by They Might Be Giants, gets a bit of an unfair wrap among the band’s following. It’s seen by some to be the not so best one by a fair few. It hurts to say ‘worst’ just ’cause I don’t think the band have a bad album. There were a lot of songs the band had recorded during its making that probably should have ended up on the final tracklist, and quite a few songs that appeared on the final tracklist that probably shouldn’t have been there at all. Looking at you in particular, ‘Mr. Xcitement’. But there are some external factors about the album that kind of overshadowed its release. The major one being that it was released on September 11, 2001. No one was really thinking about the music that came out that day. And Pitchfork gave it a 2.8/10 on their website, which is just silly.

But for me, there’s a reasonable amount of tracks I enjoy on there that make it a worthy listen. ‘My Man’ is most probably my favourite one on there. Though its story is a bit depressing, told from the point of a man speaking to his body after he’s been paralyzed, the bubbly keyboards, engaging melody, and general sort of cheeriness to its delivery give it that usual TMBG mark. The track seems to never have been performed live. That may say something about how the band feels about it, I don’t know, but because the track’s located on what’s considered to be their least greatest moment I’m very sure that it doesn’t get the appreciation it’s supposed to.

The lyrics are pretty self explanatory. The first verses describe a man who’s trying to move his leg but finds that he can’t, coming to the conclusion that he’s “fallen out with his head”. Then these strident sections come in where the band falls in with these chugging violins, with another narrative voice comparing our bodies to ocean coasts with submarine cables that need to connect to other shores in order to work properly. There’s more from the man trying to come to terms with what’s happening to him, and then the doctor comes in with the wham line “There is no way to repair the break”. He won’t walk again. To be honest, it’s a sad damn song.