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#655: R.E.M. – It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)

If I were to take a guess, I think I sing this song the same way that the majority of people who know it do. The first three lines are easy as pie, then every verse that follows is just a lot of words smushed up together into a one note melody which is then followed by the very memorable chorus.

‘It’s the End of the World’ is one of R.E.M.’s most well known tracks, one of their most played too – to the point that it may be overplayed for some people. But I only started properly listening to R.E.M. last year. I had heard the song maybe two… three times before? I’ll say five at most. And that was when its video was shown on TV. And in Chicken Little. Actually listening to it with headphones was a very different experience.

‘End of the World’ is the sixth track on R.E.M.’s fifth album, Document, released in 1987. It is not my favourite album of the group’s but this song right here is one of its highlights. The uploaded video above takes all the weight out of the audio quality though which is a shame. When those thunderous drum rolls come in at the beginning, the energy never dips from there. It’s four minutes of relentless, driving momentum. And though I never succeed in enunciating every syllable in the quickfire verses, it’s always fun to try. As said earlier, it doesn’t really matter because it has a hell of a chorus that’s not related to what goes on in those verses in any way.

Going through R.E.M.’s discography (which I had to when I found out they were actually very good) there were a few things I picked up on, especially in their earlier albums. They had a knack for great melodies. And the triple vocal harmonies of Michael Stipe, Mike Mills and Bill Berry added a layer that made the band’s songs even better when they were utilised. Melodies and harmonies are present on this track… a few countermelodies too. There’s always something new to pick up on in this track every time I hear it. It’s such a thrill. It’s quite disappointing when it starts to fade out at the end, wish it could go on for ages.

#645: Hot Hot Heat – Island of the Honest Man

Does anyone else remember when Windows Media Player had this option where you could search for a song on the internet and add it to your own playlist after the program provided a link to the website where the file was hosted? I think it was called the ‘guide’? Something along those lines. It wasn’t such a great tool as the music was very scarce. Not always in great quality either. It wasn’t like now where you can virtually listen to anything now because of Spotify and the like. But to build on my initial question… I think that is how I came to hear today’s song for the very first time back in 2005, and it’s probably one of the better songs from the album it’s on.

‘Island of the Honest Man’ was the initial promo single from Hot Hot Heat’s second album Elevator, before ‘Goodnight Goodnight’ was released as the proper commercial track some time later. In 2005 I was ten, and I guess there was something about this track that I thought stood out from a lot of other things I was listening to around that time. The clangy guitar in the verses is very sharp and biting in its delivery. Its general fast tempo and the way the timing changes during the transition into the chorus. The chorus is fantastic too. There’s a very uplifting sense about it, something I’ve got from those fluid summery guitars that back it up. I don’t think the track excites me as much as it did way back when but I still get into its groove when its momentum gets going. Also recently I noticed that there’s a guitar part that harmonises with the lead vocals during the last choruses. That’s pretty cool.

I guess because I heard it at that young age I never considered what the lyrics are about. Though mainly from its chorus, it’s about finding this place where you can do whatever you want to do without being judged. Be yourself. All of that sentiment.

#637: Super Furry Animals – The International Language of Screaming

Super Furry Animals are known to have one of the most solid discographies for a British rock group. In about late 2014 I made it a goal to go through it from their debut Fuzzy Logic to whatever their most recent album was at the time. I only made it to their second album. Guerrilla I had already listened to years prior. I gave up on that task very quickly. But now I knew three albums by SFA. Radiator is the band’s second album, released in 1997, and is where you can find today’s song tucked in near the beginning of the record.

If you’ve listened to Radiator from front to back, you’ll know that the track follows ‘The Placid Casual’ which is very keyboard-led, Gruff Rhy’s vocals are packed in the middle and the drums crash with a vengeance. On ‘Screaming’ almost all the instruments are packed in the centre, with Rhy’s vocals separated in the left and right with very open guitars. It makes a great contrast, and is a great one-two punch at the start of the album.

‘The International Language of Screaming’ was released as the album’s second single way back when. It lasts for only two minutes and fifteen seconds but is packed with a lot of elements that make it very enjoyable and hard to forget. The main vocal melody almost never changes throughout the thing, and I’ve also like how it rises and rises before dropping down again and returning back to its beginning again. There are these weird wailing/cooing noises that I’ve only began to hear that surround all the music. But at the base of it are these overdriven guitars that lead the track along. I feel this track is just about boredom with life. Becoming stagnant at some point and needing to way to break out of the funk. Singer Gruff Rhys finds that the best way to do this is by screaming, which he obliges to do as the final choruses repeat and the song finishes with a soundscape of swirling electronic noises.

#598: Cloud Nothings – I’m Not Part of Me

Cloud Nothings’ album Here and Nowhere Else turned five years old a couple of weeks ago. It still packs as much of a punch today as I thought it did then. At the time it was an album that I needed. I had found myself listening to the same old songs for too long. I was very much into Pitchfork so when the site gave it an 8.7 rating out of 10, it was clearly obvious that this album was going to be good.

A word you could use to describe the album is ‘rough’. Not in the “yeesh, that’s rough” kind of way. More in its aesthetic. The pounding drums go about a few seconds earlier than each guitar strum. Dylan Baldi’s vocals are never that clear in the mix. The guitars have quite a harsh, sandy quality to them. But every track is melodic and grounded in pop sensibilities. I may have already stated all of this in the linked post but it’s always good to recollect.

‘I’m Not Part of Me’ is the album closer. From what I can remember it was the first taste of the then new album that the band unveiled to the public too. It arguably has the most memorable hook on the entire record. Plus, it’s quite optimistic in its own casual way. Here and Nowhere Else is quite a tense record musically. Lyrically it looks at the the unfairness of life and how sometimes we just have to deal with bad things that happen to us. Then ‘I’m Not Part of Me’ comes in as the last track and provides the idea that life is unfair, yes, but that’s okay – you just have to move on. It’s almost a breath of fresh air. Just almost.

My iPod #545: John Linnell – House of Mayors

“House of Mayors” is the title track from the second solo EP of They Might Be Giants’ John Linnell. Consisting of ten tracks it is something of an experimental piece of work; the majority of tracks are instrumentals named after former mayors of New York City. “House of Mayors” is very much the musical centrepiece –  spread throughout the EP are three short instrumentals that borrow some of the melody from the song – and the full thing is saved until the very last track.

Unlike his full solo debut album that would be released three years later in ’99, “House of Mayors” is very much a DIY project. All instruments present on the song are played by Linnell and the weird thing is I think, apart from the guitar, everything else is played on the keyboard. There’s a very heartwarming and earnest feel exuded by the minimal production and twinkling keyboard lines as John Linnell describes the scene at a fictional house of mayors where various political things are occurring. The subject matter doesn’t sound all that special, but the songwriter’s knack for great melodies and music make it one of the most comfortable listens in the vast catalogue of They Might Be Giants related material.