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#1239: Gorillaz ft. Lou Reed – Some Kind of Nature

Plastic Beach, Plastic Beach. In my eyes, still the last really great Gorillaz album. It’ll be 15 years old in just under two weeks. I guess it does feel that way. But I can also remember downloading the album a few days before it was officially released in the UK and listening through the whole thing like it was last week. Wikipedia says that it was released internationally on the 3rd March 2010, but that’s wrong because albums were released on Mondays and that date was a Wednesday. I “got” it on the 5th, the album was released in the UK on the 8th. Though I guess the Wikipedia date was when it was released in Japan or something. That place usually got the early release dates, the lucky people. But that explains why it was so easy to find a high-quality version of it online so I could nab it for myself.

‘Some Kind of Nature’ is the ninth song on the album. There’s a range of guest features on the LP to say the least, and ‘Nature’ wasn’t left out in this regard as alongside Damon Albarn on vocals appeared Velvet Underground man and general top singer-songwriter person Lou Reed. He provides some additional guitar as well. Albarn tells the story about working with Reed in this little video here. You might as well watch the whole thing if you’re a fan. But the meat of it is, Albarn sent Reed three songs to work on. Reed rejected them all. On the fourth attempt, Reed accepted with a vague idea. Albarn flew to New York to meet, but then Reed left the studio to go somewhere else and wrote all his thoughts about plastic in a taxi. He came back, showed Albarn his work, did the vocals in one take. And what you hear was the result. But it’s better to hear the person who experienced it actually tell the story, so go ahead and click on that link.

I can’t remember whether this one was an instant like on that first hearing. But just a week or so after I downloaded the album, ‘Some Kind…’ got its own little music video which I guess let me become accustomed to the song very quickly. The whole track runs at a very chill tempo, led by Reed’s very straight, robotic-like vocals which make a great contrast for Albarn’s richer, melodic voice when he comes in later. I also like singing along to the synth that arrives around 25 seconds in. Makes for a good melodic centrepoint underneath Reed’s recited delivery. The lyrics you’ll find online vary from place to place, but whichever site has the line “All we are is stars” as the last line of the chorus is the correct one. It doesn’t make grammatical sense, but then again, a lot of songs don’t. Only got two more songs left to write about from Plastic Beach, and they both begin with ‘S’. So they’ll be coming around relatively soon. Any guesses as to what they are can be left in the comments.

#1212: Bob Dylan – Simple Twist of Fate

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Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks is the one album of his that has stuck with me for the longest time. I’ve heard a bunch of other Dylan LPs and like a bunch of the songs from them. But front to back, it’s always been Blood… for me. I remember it fully clicking when I was back in university. Second year, for me 2014/15, and it was during that time that the album had been out and about for 40 years – gonna be 50 in a few weeks – and I was a nerd about album anniversaries and that kind of thing. So I was alone in my room, listened through it for what was the second time in my life, and there it was. Was like hearing it in a new light. Alone in a room is the ideal setting for listening to it. And I could add it to the collection of sad albums in my mental space that I seemed to resonate with a lot.

‘Simple Twist of Fate’ is the second song on there. Opener ‘Tangled Up in Blue’ gets things off to a lively start. You wouldn’t be wrong to assume that at least the next one would carry on in the same manner. It does not. Instead, ‘Simple Twist…’ arrives as the solemn, reflective follow-up – still with a bit of a swing to it – with six verses detailing a gradual breakup between two people, seemingly unrelated to Dylan as he sings about them in third person, until he takes it into the first for the final verse where you realise he was singing about his own situation the whole time. Each verse depicts a different stage in the relationship captured. So evocative with the language Dylan incorporates, I think it would be difficult for any listener to be unable to picture their own scenes of what’s happening in their heads. And the simple twist of fate of the title is the one thing that weaves all of these stages together.

The chord progression throughout the song remains the same throughout its duration, so while Dylan’s acoustic guitar stays true to it, the bass guitar played by session musician Tony Brown is allowed to skip a few octaves and play around on the scales. Dylan’s vocal take is notable too, in that for the first few lines of each verse, he delivers his words very simply – there’s maybe a two note melody he utilises when doing so – before suddenly singing phrases that end with a howling wail for their penultimate lines and mentioning the song title in the final ones. Think those wails are meant to symbolize something. A kind of pain or yearning, I’d guess? The singing style is actually very similar to how he approaches the track that comes after ‘Simple Twist…’ on the album. That’s for another day. I imagine this track could be quite the brutal listen, especially if you’re feeling lovelorn or recovering from a past relationship. But then again, it’s good to hear a piece of music that somehow manages to put into words the things you couldn’t. Makes you feel you’re not so alone.

#1179: Madvillain – Shadows of Tomorrow

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Almost slap-bang in the middle of Madvillainy, the certified classic alternative hip-hop album made by the legendary pairing of producer Madlib and rapper MF DOOM (RIP) comes ‘Shadows of Tomorrow’. I’m trying to think of how I felt about the track when I first heard the LP sometime during 2013… Nothing comes to mind. But I do remember playing it to a good mate of mine when I was visiting him in university the following year. One of those times where I was like, “Hey, have you heard of this album, Madvillainy? It’s sick, man.” Played it really loudly too. It probably sounded strange to the people he was sharing his accommodation with. But I think by that point I’d become friends with all of them at that point, so anything was fair game. Safe to say, it must have clicked with me somewhere along the way.

The track’s first half is rapped by Lord Quasimoto who, for those not in the know, is just Madlib but with his voice altered to a higher pitch. If you’re interested in what you hear, The Unseen would be a good place to start in order to obtain more knowledge on the Quasimoto character. For the second half, Madlib raps with his normal voice. And I want to say that this was the first track where he had ever done this. If not, someone correct me please. But I want to say I read that somewhere. Left me thinking maybe he should rap with his natural tone a lot more often, he’s got the voice to do it. But only he could find the records he does in order to make an instrumental like the one here. Sometimes you just have to stick to what you know you do best, I guess.

All in all, ‘Shadows of Tomorrow’ is a tribute to other legendary artist, composer and all-round cosmic man Sun Ra. In fact, the lyrics are one of Sun Ra’s poems entitled ‘The Shadow of Tomorrow’. So really, all of Madlib’s work on the track goes onto the instrumental, as he pretty much recites the poem word for word – maybe adding an additional word here and there. The ode to Sun Ra is further emphasised by the sampling of the man himself, with excerpts of his dialogue taken from the 1974 film, Space Is the Place, in which Sun Ra stars. The instrumental’s enough to put you in a trance. I think it’s the fact that the music stays in one chord, led by that droning note, which also gives it this mystic Eastern quality. And if you’re one who’s deep into philosophy and the workings of time, then I couldn’t think of a better song to listen that would get your brain working.

#1156: Simon & Garfunkel – Save the Life of My Child

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A pre-Spotify/streaming service website used to exist back in the day. We7.com it was called. It allowed you to play a bunch of music in full, for free, without registration. And I came across it in early 2009, I think because Green Day’s 21st Century Breakdown had just been released and there it was, available to listen to, out in the open. The website doesn’t exist anymore, but when it did I got to hear a lot of the music I listen to now for the first time. And that’s where Simon & Garfunkel’s ‘Save the Life of My Child’ comes in. The track played on the site’s internet radio feature one day. Though I’m sure I would have heard ‘The Sound of Silence’ way before then, or ‘Bridge over Troubled Water’, I do believe it’s ‘Save…’ that was properly the first S&G track I’d fully paid attention with headphones at hand.

And the fat synthesizer that opens the song up is not what I was expecting on that initial hearing. I wonder how listeners back in 1968 would have felt too. It’s such a contrast compared to the usual acoustic numbers the duo did, and especially coming right after the light introduction that opens Bookends, the album on which ‘Save the Life…’ can be found. The track is one of the very first ever to utilise the Moog synthesizer, used predominantly for the bassline, and Paul Simon chugs away on the acoustic guitar while singing from the different perspectives of different people witnessing a boy sitting on the ledge of a high building, contemplating suicide. It’s a busy, busy scene. Passersby speculate, newspapers are rolling out with the story, the cops are called, and when one does arrive, they offer no considerable help in the slightest. Spotlights are put on the kid who, in that moment, decides to fall. That’s how the song ends.

I’ve always felt that the song is in some way providing a wider commentary than what’s being portrayed within. I wasn’t around in the ’60s, but from what I’ve gleaned by just reading around, things were much different in the America of 1968 than it was in ’67. The summer of love had long gone, and people wanted politicians to answer for poor decisions. Looking to musicians to provide some solidarity in their art. It was a general time of unrest. And that unrest is very much captured in the performance and general feel of ‘Save the Life…’. The song’s bridge includes an unsettling use of the duo’s aforementioned ‘Sound of Silence’ which, in context, I think symbolises a kind of momentary yearning for those young and innocent days before being abruptly brought back into reality, with the state of affairs of the then-current days being summed up in the final lines as the boy falls to the ground: “Oh, my grace, I got no hiding place.”

#1155: Lou Reed – Satellite of Love

The Music in My Ears

A blog about music (and sometimes other things).