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#988: Bob Dylan – One of Us Must Know (Sooner or Later)

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Like other double albums, Bob Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde contains tracks that I can give two thumbs up to. Others not so much. But I’m very sure that when I first heard the album many years back, like 2013 or something, ‘One of Us Must Know’ was one that caught my ear straight away. It was clearly a track that Dylan recognised some potential in himself, as it was selected to be the first single to be released from the album, months in advance. What probably piqued my ears the most was Dylan’s voice. His exaggerated nasal delivery would give comedians and sitcom writers material to go to town with for years to come, particularly the way he uses it throughout this whole album. But it’s certainly unique and leaves its mark. “Sooner or later, one of us must know” sounds much better as “SoOOoneeeer or lAaaterrrrr, ooOone of us must knooOOoooow”. That’s the best way I can capture Dylan’s delivery.

As I’ve come to understand it, it’s from the point of view of a guy who’s pondering on a relationship that ended. Though the clues were there that things were coming to a close, the narrator here seemed to be oblivious to them all. It’s also made clear that he himself was to blame for at least some part of what went on, but, as men usually do, he sort of brushes it off and tries to make it as if the other half is taking things too personally. This is a narrator who has their faults, but they want to make clear that anything they did was never on purpose and that their heart was always in the right place. The other half ends it all, and he realises that it’s just the way it goes sometimes and no malice has been left over. Now, that’s how I’ve always seen it. But now I’m seeing that it may also be one long metaphor alluding to Dylan’s move from acoustic folk music to electric rock that annoyed a lot of people back in the day. Gotta love interpretations.

Musically, I guess I should point you to the piano, played throughout by session musician Paul Griffin. Particularly during those choruses where he’s really flowing up and down the keys, Griffin’s piano is very much the lead instrument for this one. During the low-key verses, the organ played by Al Kooper will rise in the mix with a little melodic hook here and there. And as the end of those verses come closer, there’s a massive increase in intensity that is then released with the gratifying choruses. Then Dylan closes it all out with a jubilant harmonica solo. It’s good stuff, very nice with the dynamics. It’s only the fourth track on Blonde on Blonde, so there’s still a lot more to come within the context of the record. But when you consider that it closes out the first side of the vinyl before you flipped it over to hear side two, it’s a fine way to finish things off. Just for that little bit.

#987: Pink Floyd – One of My Turns

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Within the story of The Wall, ‘One of My Turns’ comes at a point where the main character, Pink, finds out that his wife has been cheating on him while he, a rich musician, has been up to no good on the road himself. Despite his own wrongdoing, he obviously wasn’t prepared for the tables to be turned. He brings a groupie back to his apartment, sits down blankly staring at the television, and suddenly explodes in a fit of rage throwing his possessions around the room. Without properly delving into the whole concept, you’d only be able to sort of gauge what’s going on because of the sound effects that occur during the song. Thankfully, though, there’s a film where everything’s depicted in the frantic and frightening manner you would think a director would take if that situation happened in real life.

So this track is pretty much split into two sections. The calm before the storm, and the sudden explosion. Richard Wright’s synthesizer adds one note after the other to create this uneasy tension while we hear the groupie marvel at the size of Pink’s apartment and the amount of things he has. After she asks Pink if he’s feeling okay, FYI he isn’t, is when Roger Waters finally enters the frame to sing the first verse. Singing all calm-like alongside Wright’s synthesizer, he essentially describes Pink’s emptiness and overbearing depression with a short series of similes and heart-wrenching statements. Among them he warns the listener that he can feel “one of [his] turns coming on”. Not too soon after he says that, that turn arrives and the rest of the song is a hard-rock number with the guitars and drums entering the mix.

Just like many other songs on The Wall, Roger Waters makes it his mission to sound as unhinged as he possibly can, straining his voice to the peak of its limitations during this section of the track. Those are some high notes he’s reaching, but he pulls them off even though it’s like his voice could break there and then during the take. I personally have always got a kick of how he sings “Would you like something to eat?” There’s something a cartoon-ish about it. After a brief solo, the groupie runs out of the apartment, leaving Pink to scream into the night, which segues right into the next song on the album. If you want to listen to someone fall apart and lose it entirely, these are two songs which may pique your interest.

#922: They Might Be Giants – Nightgown of the Sullen Moon

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If you were one of the OG They Might Be Giants fans back in the 80s and around when ‘They’ll Need a Crane’ was released as another single from the band’s Lincoln album, you would have been lucky to stumble upon ‘Nightgown of the Sullen Moon’. The track was one of three B-sides on the They’ll Need a Crane EP, alongside ‘It’s Not My Birthday’ and ‘I’ll Sink Manhattan’. Once the two Johns were signed to major-label Elektra Records, another compilation was then released including all of the B-sides the band had officially released in the form of Miscellaneous T which a brought something of a larger attention to it.

There are a few interpretations as to what this track is about. There’s a selection you can see on the band’s dedicated Wiki page. From my point of view, I always saw it as a description of a person’s transition into the next life after falling into a door in an awkward manner and dying on the spot. Sounds quite tragic, but you’ll see the lyrics and kind of get it. The first verse describes the accident, I would take the titular ‘nightgown’ as heaven pretty much, and the following verse captures the person’s feelings of being within this new environment. They’re not on drugs, but they feel like they’re floating on air. And they begin to feel bored eventually, which shares the same sentiment as that Talking Heads song that’s also about heaven. In typical TMBG fashion, the song’s dang catchy and the melody throughout is off the charts, contrasting with the almost brutal subject. It’s also carried by this great I want to say Calypso-influenced rhythm, that’s accentuated by the introduction of bongos in the final choruses. There’s a lot of syllables John Linnell has to sing in each line, and there are points where you can him hear him inhaling sharply between them so he has enough breath. For a song that’s only two minutes, it’s filled with little things here and there that you can pick out with each listen

Like John Lennon with ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’, John Linnell was inspired to write the track of its name after being shown a drawing that a person’s child had drawn. It’s a very poetic phrase, ‘nightgown of the sullen moon’. Reminds me of something you’d see in those classic books. Very unique. But it came as a surprise to Linnell when he found that the phrase was already the title of a children’s book that had been published in 1983. Must have taken some of the magic out of the phrase just that bit. According to the wiki, it’s one of the band’s most popular songs, but they’ve never performed it live. If they ever did, it would be a sight.

#889: Mac DeMarco – My Kind of Woman

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Upon hearing Salad Days and loving it pretty much instantly when it was first released in March/April 2014, my next objective was to find more music of Mac DeMarco. Luckily 2 had been existing as his first proper album for two years by that point, so I got straight to listening. To this day I’ve held the opinion that 2 isn’t as great as Salad Days. I don’t think it’s as consistent. But it’s highlights are some of DeMarco’s best songs. ‘Cooking Up Something Good’ and ‘Dreamin” are tracks I hold dear to my soul. And then there’s ‘My Kind of Woman’ which admittedly I wasn’t really into those first few times, but with more listens I had to welcome it with open arms.

Like all of his other songs, DeMarco sings with that easygoing tone that so many listeners love ‘im for. So welcoming in its delivery with a relaxing melody, and when that first “Oh, baby” comes in, I mean, you just gotta carry on listening to see how it all unfolds. What happens is a song detailing a person who’s too overcome by how much they like a woman and how she actually reciprocates those feelings and sticks around. It’s a song about this unbelievable wonder when a relationship seems too good to be true. And it’s all provided in two verses and two choruses, something that’s another threaded throughout a lot of Mac’s songs. He hardly ever writes a bridge, but when he writes music like this he doesn’t really have to.

What other things could I talk about… I guess, apart from those guitars with that jangling tone that was a signature of 2/Salad Days era Mac, that organ/keyboard on the left that mimics the lead guitar on the right is quite cool. There’s something that sounds a bit off about it. Like it’s sort of detuning but still managing to stay in key. Kinda gives the track a sort of unsettling feel. Don’t ask me what’s going on in that video though; your guess is as good as mine.

#882: They Might Be Giants – Museum of Idiots

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Another gem from They Might Be Giants’ The Spine. I wrote about another track from that album earlier in this ‘M’ section. While I think I came to some sort of conclusion as to what ‘Memo to Human Resources’ was about, to this day I’m still a bit flummoxed when it comes to ‘Museum of Idiots’. I do remember an interpretation saying that it was from the point of view of a tree in a forest, but I was left even more confused after reading that than before. The track is the first on the second half of The Spine, beginning a run of tracks until the album’s end that may just be one of my favourites in the band’s whole catalogue.

In comparison to ‘Memo’, written by John Flansburgh, ‘Museum’ is another of John Linnell’s offerings – a composition in waltz time marked by moments of quiet keyboards juxtaposed with a blaring wall of horns. If there’s a guitar present here, it’s definitely buried in the mix. And there’s nothing wrong with that. There’s a joyous and uplifting feeling I get from those triumphant brass instruments here, like there’s this big parade going through town or something. Linnell arranged all of the horn part Though the lyrics seem to be from the perspective of someone or something that’s a bit of a dimwit. Or an idiot, if you didn’t already get that from the song’s title.

Actually, come to think of it. This song might just be another example of a sad but funny moment in They’s discography. This person holds out hope that their “Honey” will need them at some point, and they’ll be ready waiting for them whenever that happens. But the likelihood of it is very low. Maybe the museum contains all those heartbroken people who would do anything for the person who won’t reciprocate those feelings, and because they can’t get over them they’re left feeling like idiots. I don’t know, it hurts to think about these things. But I ask you to at least listen to this one before making some sort of decision for yourself.