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#1004: Blur – Out of Time

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The beginning of the new millennium was a weird one for Blur. They were all over the ’90s. The band’s singles and albums were a mainstay in the charts, and that whole Battle of Britpop thing with Oasis happened. But then that decade ended, they were all sort of dishevelled and in their ’30s. The band members weren’t sure which direction to go in. The band released a ‘Best of’ compilation (with great artwork), released a new single, and did some promo appearances. Search up ‘Blur 2000’ on YouTube, and it’s a bit of a trip. Kinda strange seeing the band performing ‘Girls & Boys’ with Gorillaz very much around the corner. By 2001, it was all about ‘Clint Eastwood’ and Gorillaz shot off into the stratosphere.

Couple years later, Blur got back together. Much to Damon Albarn’s hesitance as he stated in the No Distance Left to Run documentary. Graham Coxon left the band because of miscommunication, his own problems with alcohol and some strange handling by their manager. Blur continued as a three-piece. ‘Out of Time’ was the first taste of this new lineup as the first single from the then upcoming album Think Tank in 2003. I was eight years old at the time, I didn’t have a clue who Blur was. I didn’t hear Think Tank until 2013, going through Blur’s discography. I wonder how people must have felt hearing the track upon its initial release. It’s such a lowkey, very minimal track to choose as a first single. It does have a breezy groove, the percussion’s light and very tasteful. The thing that blows me away every time I hear it is Albarn’s vocal. Just so pure, clear and sincere, could bring a tear to your eye.

Released at the beginning of the Iraq War, the track asks the question of where civilisation is going with all the madness that was going on, stating that humanity was forgetting how beautiful life can be and that we may have gone too far into the deep end to recover from the devastation. That specific war’s over, but things aren’t going so well these days for anyone, so I think the song’s message still has as much poignancy now as it did then. You may across comments that harp on Think Tank because of how unlike Blur it sounds. To be fair, those may be justified. Coxon did play a massive part in the band’s sound. But this track came out of it, so I don’t complain too much. Contains a couple great ones that I’ll never be able to post about, and a few more that I will.

#1002: Fall Out Boy – Our Lawyer Made Us Change the Name of This Song So We Wouldn’t Get Sued

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Another album opener, ‘Our Lawyer…’ is the first track on Fall Out Boy’s From Under the Cork Tree. It’s an album that many a fan of the band’s hold dear to their hearts. Has the well-loved classics like ‘Dance, Dance’, ‘A Little Less Sixteen Candles…’ and of course, ‘Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down’. Can’t say I hold the same regard. If there is a best Fall Out Boy, it’s clearly Folie à Deux. Cork Tree for me sounds a bit dated in comparison. A lot of the sentiments on there I just can’t vibe with anymore compared to when I was, let’s say, 13. But it sets off with a great start and a whole lot of self-deprecation and sarcasm, which I’m always all in for – especially when it’s done right.

“Brothers and sisters put this record down / Take my advice ’cause we are bad news” are the opening lines to this track, and for the rest of the track Patrick Stump sings bassist Pete Wentz’s lyrics which further go onto to tell the listeners the myriad ways in which the band will let them down and the superficial things that they’re good for – like celebrity status and fashion sense – that don’t really amount to anything properly meaningful. The track is set to a swinging tempo, but there’s an aggression and heaviness to the way the guitars are played that enables automatic headbanging among the instinctive swaying motion that you have to do with those types of tempos. Patrick Stump sounds like a kid, and he pretty much was – would have been 20 during the making of the album – but for a guy who supposedly wasn’t too confident about his singing, I’d say he does the job well. He’d only become better as the years went on, full embracing his inner soul-singer on Folie à Deux.

The song’s title is one of truth. Its original title was ‘My Name Is David Ruffin And These Are The Temptations’, but the band’s lawyers intervened and made them change the name. Either way, it’s another title of the band’s during that time that were very long, were usually never mentioned in the lyrics at all, and were probably named as such just to get some reaction from the listener. Funnily enough, I think one of the band’s shortest song title is on the same album too, with ‘XO’. That’ll be the next one from the record I do a post on. As I said earlier, not so much a fan of it now. But there’ll be more Fall Out Boy in between, for sure.

#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.