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#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

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I have a big, big feeling that Lou Reed’s ‘Satellite of Love’ was a song that had an immediate impact on that first listen back in…. I want to say 2012. Was going through that ‘Best Ever Albums’ list on besteveralbums.com that I’ve sometimes talked about in other posts, and its parent album Transformer was on there at a decently ranked position. It’s got ‘Perfect Day’ on there. That’s a good one. ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ is a classic (though not one I go to, myself). But ‘Satellite of Love’ drew me in for sure. It begins with the piano, Lou Reed sings a succinct melody followed by that bass run and piano line. That’s all in the first 10 seconds. It’s catchy stuff, and it all carries on from there.

Influenced by the space race, the moon landing and lunar activities in the late ’60s, Reed wrote the track in 1970 when with The Velvet Underground and did a demo with the group during sessions for the band’s Loaded album. It didn’t make it on there. But two years later, with the aid of David Bowie and Mick Ronson, the track underwent changes to give it an air of wonder, flamboyance and slight campness and turned it into a glam rock number. There’s quite the all-star ensemble behind the performance with Reed singing and on guitar and Bowie on backing vocals, Ronson on piano and recorder, Beatles mate Klaus Voorman on the bass guitar and John Halsey AKA Barry Wom of The Rutles on drums. They all very much kill it in each of their respective positions.

As much as I do enjoy the main core of the song, particularly the contrast between Reed’s dry vocal with those bright “bom-bom-bom”‘s during the choruses, a huge part of my appreciation for the whole track goes towards its ending. With about a minute and 10 seconds left, the track builds layer and layer, starting with Ronson’s piano, followed by Reed and the sassy backing vocals by the vocal group Thunderthighs. And then to cap it all off, David Bowie comes in with a piercing falsetto to leave the track fading out on this massive bed of harmonies and countermelodies. It’s a shame that Bowie and Reed didn’t collaborate more after this and Transformer. Think I remember that they a falling out of some kind? They strike me as two people who would want to do their own respective things anyway. They performed live with one another in the end, so whatever beef they had was clearly squashed.

#1147: Hot Hot Heat – Running Out of Time

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Hot Hot Heat were one of the first bands I witnessed when I was really getting into rock music, thanks to the video for ‘Bandages’ being played in the morning one day on MTV2. Not too far from that point, the group came back with their second album Elevator, promoted by singles ‘Goodnight Goodnight’ and ‘Middle of Nowhere’. Both fine, fine songs. And it was those two, along with ‘Island of the Honest Man’, that gave me the urge to download the album years later. This is all a very roundabout way of saying this is how I came to know today’s song ‘Running Out of Time’, which is the first proper track on Elevator following a short little introduction that opens the album.

It’s a slamming start to the track that greets the listener, putting things into high gear before Steve Bays goes in observation mode and dedicates his verses to a bunch of kooky characters. In order of appearance, he sings about: himself, an art history dropout, a screenplay player co-writing a screenplay (a lyric which I’ve never fully realised how clunky it is till now), a Hollywood waiter and a retired ball player. They’re all going through their own situations, all of which seem to freak Bays out in a way and lead him to the conclusion that he’s ‘running out of time’. Maybe these characters are reminding him of his age or something. But he would have been relatively young while writing the lyrics. I don’t know. It’s a guess. I could understand someone not liking Bays’ style of singing. I read the lyrics online and wonder if they’re the words that are actually being said. But he has enough power and melody in his delivery that it wins me over anyway. And also Dante DeCaro’s guitar fills throughout add a little extra eccentricity to the action. It’s all very good stuff.

I’d gotten used to fact that Hot Hot Heat were no longer a band. The Canadian group hadn’t been a functioning unit since 2016, I believe. They released a final self-titled album, called it a day, and that was that. So it was strange to me when maybe a couple weeks ago I read that the band had split up again. Again? When did they reunite? Apparently in November last year. They released a new song and everything, which I completely missed. But the comeback didn’t last long, as vocalist Steve Bays felt he “couldn’t participate”. A fair enough reason not to do something, I guess. There’s probably something more behind that statement, but also probably best not to probe.

#1144: George Harrison – Run of the Mill

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Well, it looks like this track right here will be the last one you’ll see on here from George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass album. I know, it’s a real shame, isn’t it? On the contrary, if there was a real-life situation where songs were disappearing from albums and the one left standing was the one you could hear for the rest of your days, I wouldn’t complain about having ‘Run of the Mill’ as the survivor. Ever since hearing it around 2010/11 via an old, old streaming service called We7 that went defunct years ago, the track’s been a strong favourite of mine from the record. It’s that horn melody during the introduction that always stirs something within me initially. And Harrison’s lyrics are also something to ponder on, even though they’re very much himself and his own experiences.

The big experience influencing the song’s words would be the tense time when the Beatles, that band Harrison used to be in, were on the verge of breaking up. Harrison didn’t feel he was being taken seriously as a songwriter by bandmates Paul McCartney and John Lennon, and his relationships with the two were becoming strained. Adding the fact that they were trying to run a business at the same time, which ran itself into the ground quite dramatically, and the whole situation was a sorry state of affairs for everyone involved. ‘Run of the Mill’ contains Harrison’s thoughts on the matter, which basically tell his two bandmates to get their acts together and stop laying their own frustrations out on him without mentioning their names outright.

The performers on this particular track are an all-star cast, featuring the members who would go on to become Derek and the Dominos with Eric Clapton very during the album sessions for All Things… Session musician Jim Price provides the trumpets that play the song’s main instrumental hook. But, apart from George Harrison’s great vocal, my ears also tend to latch onto the bass guitar work of Carl Radle that climb and fall and perform other melodic hooks that interplay with the track’s chord progression. Harrison is also singing “It’s you that decides” and not “The jeweller decides”, which I believed to be the lyric initially. ‘Run of the Mill’ is a song of rumination, but it doesn’t aim to make the listener feel sad or melancholy in any way. You can empathise with Harrison for sure. But I think it’s the warming music against the resigned inspiration behind the lyrics that make the track one of the songwriter’s best.