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#1294: Ween – Strap on that jammypac

You know those times at a live show when a band comes out and, to get the crowd pumped up, the guitarists will start strumming one chord vigorously with the bass guitarist following suit with one note on a string and the drummer laying into the cymbals before signalling a count that suitably falls into the rhythm of the opening number of the night? I feel like Foo Fighters do that kind of thing a lot of the time. They just come to me as an example. Well, Ween’s ‘Strap on that jammypac’ is a song where the music is based on those specific moments, except the actual song that’s supposed to begin right after never starts. ‘…jammypac’ is the opening number to Ween’s almighty sophomore album The Pod, released in September 1991. And what better way to get this unusual album going than with a track just as unusual in nature?

The ‘jammypac’ in the song’s title refers to the apparatus donned by the figure on the album’s cover, widely known by Ween fans as ‘Mean Ween’, whose name is Chris Williams and a good friend of both Gene and Dean Ween. This was supposedly used to aid in the huffing of Scotchgard that went on during the making of the album. But of course it’s well-known now that this activity was a story made up by the two members of the band, who actually became ill with mononucleosis during the sessions. There were probably plenty of other types of hallucinogens involved, though. Dean Ween sings this tune, sounding like a Looney Tunes/Merry Melodies type of character that I can’t recall the name of, sometimes coming in a little too early or much, much later than the music backing him. Goes to show the vocal take was probably done after the music was recorded.

Overall, I guess you can say this is a song of invitation. There’s no better place to put it on the album than at the very beginning. Dean Ween wants you to put this jammypac on and promises that he and the listener will have a good time together, but sprinkled in among this is a tale of a man who doesn’t get the required amount of food he needs cooked by his woman and can’t take the situation anymore. It also marks the start of the dozens of internal references that occur throughout the album, with the mention of a ‘van Winkle’ who’s also mentioned in fellow album cuts ‘Boing’ and ‘Molly’, before getting their own dedicated song in ‘Sketches of Winkle’. Despite the track, I think, being influenced by those live rock concert situations, it wasn’t played in a live setting by Ween until they were on tour for Chocolate and Cheese a few years later. Whenever they’ve played it live in more recent times, it’s usually the show’s opening tune. It goes down very, very well with the crowd.

#1272: Graham Coxon – Standing on My Own Again

I know for sure that an official music video exists for this track. It’s just that it’s nowhere to be found on YouTube and seems to be wiped off the face of the internet. By seeing it what felt like every day for a period in 2006 on MTV2, I became very familiar with Graham Coxon’s ‘Standing on My Own Again’ very quickly. It was released as the first single from his then forthcoming album Love Travels at Illegal Speeds. As I write to you, I’m starting to wonder whether this was the first song by him that I had ever heard, or if it was ‘Freakin’ Out’. Maybe I answer that question in the post for that track. To keep things mysterious, I won’t go and find out. But I do know for sure that I didn’t know who Blur was, and so for a bit I just recognised Coxon as this solo artist who was just doing his thing. Doing it well too.

In Coxon’s words, the song builds a scene where the narrator’s standing on a grey and muddy beach looking out at a ship that’s sinking and likening its situation to a relationship where neither person involved are enjoying themselves anymore. You think of that and hear the lyrics, or read ’em, and it all makes perfect sense. It’s much better watching Coxon explain it all himself. Combine that with a charging performance led by striding guitars and a wailing vocal performance, it makes for some very cathartic listening. Coxon performs with what was his usual live band in the music video, but I didn’t find out until quite recently that in the studio he played all the instruments himself. I always knew him to be a great guitarist. He ain’t to shabby on the bass guitar and drums as well.

Yeah, listening to this song will always take me back to those days in 2006 when I was pretty much sitting in front of the TV all day watching music videos and seeing this song on a regular basis. I seem to remember this and ‘All These Things I Hate’ by Bullet for My Valentine were usually played within a video or two of each other. And looking at the Wiki pages for both songs, they were both released in February of that year. At least my memory’s still somewhat kicking. Love Travels at Illegal Speeds will be out for 20 years in 2026, so hopefully the videos for ‘Standing…’ and fellow single ‘You & I’ show their faces for the anniversary. Until then, here’s the making of the video for the former, just to show you I’m not going crazy about a magical video that may or may not be real.

#1269: They Might Be Giants – Stand on Your Own Head

Nearing the end of They Might Be Giants’ Lincoln, the band’s second debut album released in the September of 1988, comes the song ‘Stand on Your Own Head’. Now, I’ve always thought it was a good one, and I’m sure there are a lot of Giants fans out there who feel the same way. You wouldn’t find it being regarded as a major highlight, but it’s appreciated all the same. My view, it gets a bit of a raw deal being sandwiched between two of the album’s most well-known tracks in ‘Shoehorn with Teeth’ and ‘Snowball in Hell’. I’d go for this one over the former any day, and maybe you could tell because I’m writing about ‘Stand…’ and haven’t done a post on ‘Shoehorn’.

This one here is another TMBG track mainly written by John Linnell. I’ve come to think of the lyric as some kind of wordplay exercise, taking idioms and everyday phrases and then turning them upside down. Or “on their heads”, you might say. And you can go through it line by line. At least, almost. “I like people, they’re the ones who can’t stand”, I guess is a turn on “I hate people, they’re the ones I can’t stand”. It’s a bit of stretch on my part, seeing as that’s not really an everyday phrase. But what’s more obvious comes in the lyrics for the chorus, “Stand on your own head for a change/Give me some skin to call my own”, which calls to the “Stand on your own two feet” phrase and provides a combination of “give me some skin” and “a home to call my own”. And then there’s the “You’ve made my day, now you have to sleep in it” in the second verse, a reference to making a bed and lying in it. The other parts about smoke signals and suing for custody, I’ve still not been able to pin down. But they sound good nonetheless.

The main musical highlight in this tune is the prominent feature of the banjo, which is rarely used in any other They Might Be Giants song, if it even is at all. The band’s Wiki side credited its playing to John Linnell. I never thought much of it. I listened to a podcast one day that questioned whether this credit was correct. There are TMBG songs that have Linnell playing guitar and he isn’t all that proficient in that, so it did make me wonder whether the credit was true too. But then a few years ago, a TMBG live performance from 1988 was released on YouTube, and right there in the thumbnail was Linnell with banjo in hand alongside John Flansburgh. Though whether he’s playing the intricate part during the choruses is still up for question. If you were somewhat displeased with my own take on the song, luckily I found this track-by-track breakdown of Lincoln while writing this. Linnell’s recollection of the track might just be more useful than mine.

#1262: Pavement – Spit on a Stranger

So I was talking about Pavement’s ‘Speak, See, Remember’ the other day, another song from the Terror Twilight album, and how I downloaded the LP on the 8th June 2012. Well, at the same time, I went ahead to check the properties of the other song files. It turned out that I had separately downloaded album opener ‘Spit on a Stranger’ a few months earlier, in February or so. Why? Only my 17-year-old self would know, ’cause this 30-year-old doesn’t remember.* But I’m thinking, by the time I decided to download all the other songs, I really liked ‘Carrot Rope’ and I must have grown to like ‘…Stranger’ a lot. So clearly it made sense to. Good thing I did too, because the album is one I can let run from front to back on any occasion. Feels good for my soul.

The image/concept of spitting on a stranger sounds understandably gross and needless, but it goes far more deeper than that in the way songwriter Stephen Malkmus approaches it. The track is a truly earnest falling-in-love song, in which the narrator – lucky enough to find themselves being one of the two involved in the relationship – begins to realize the positive effects this other person has on them, giving the narrator the determination to do whatever it takes to make the relationship work and hopefully last. So what does the ‘spit on a stranger’ phrase actually mean? Well, I think it’s roundabout way of referring to kissing. ‘Cause that’s what happens on dates that go well, I guess. We kiss, and we essentially get our spit on this person we’ve known for a relatively short amount of time. It’s a slightly ugly way to put it. The song is anything but, with the golden guitar work and wispy synthesizer and Malkmus’s sighing vocal delivery. A track to play to a glorious sunset, or sunrise even.

The big question I have about ‘…Stranger’ are the additional vocals on the right-hand side that come into the mix at around a minute and 38 seconds in. Anyone know what’s being said? I don’t, but I always try and sing along to them all the same. They provide a very nice countermelody during the proceedings. Had things gone producer Nigel Godrich’s way, ‘Spit on a Stranger’ would have been the closer on Terror Twilight. His proposed tracklist was put into practice on the 2022 Farewell Horizontal reissue. I’ve gotta say, it works beautifully as “the last song”. Ending the whole record on the line, “I’ll be the one that leaves you high”, would have been very suitable. But introducing the listener to the album’s “world” with the number is something I’m just too used to at this point. I would have only been four at the time of the album’s initial release, but even I get some sort of nostalgic feeling from the song. Feels like one that symbolises the end of the ’90s. And the end of the band during the initial run.

*08/01/26 – Thinking about it now, I’m sure I downloaded ‘Spit on a Stranger’ on its own on the mere fact it was a single by Pavement, and I wanted to test the waters before fully diving into Terror Twilight as a whole. You can see why I forgot, because it was a very simple decision that I thought nothing of at the time.

#1183: Wu-Tang Clan – Shame on a Nigga

A representative from one of the greatest hip-hop albums of all time. Shame – no pun intended – that this will probably be the only track from Enter the Wu Tang that I cover on here. But my appreciation for the LP goes a long way. 2013 was the 20th anniversary of the album’s release, and around the same time was when I first heard the thing in full. It’s a wonder how Wu-Tang is even a thing that continues to this day. You’d think a group of nine strong-minded individuals, all with their respective wants, styles, etc, would come to blows and wouldn’t remain stable for any length of time. But, bonded by family, the borough of Staten Island, an interest in martial arts films, and an obvious appreciation for hip-hop, the Wu gave us their debut and shot to legendary status almost immediately.

You might have already heard this song if you were intrigued by the post I made a couple of days ago. But if not, well, here it is. Before it was covered by System of a Down some years later under the name ‘Shame’, ‘Shame on a Nigga’ was released, appearing as the second song on Wu-Tang Clan’s 1993 debut album. Though if you were offended by the ‘rude’ language, a radio version of the track was also made entitled, ‘Shame on a Nuh’. Over a beat that features samples from Syl Johnson to Thelonius Monk, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Method Man and Raekwon the Chef deliver respective verses in which they more or less tell the listener why people will fail if ever they step up to them, either in an aggressive way or when it comes to rap. When it comes to rap, they’ll lose because of their lack of skill. If things get violent, they’ll get shit. And that’s how it goes. As the song progresses, a new rapper’s brought into the frame just to add their own distinct voice to the mix. Makes the song that more engaging to listen to. And Ol’ Dirty closes the track off with the longest verse in which he again tells us why he isn’t the one to pick a duel with while referencing that old film The Warriors and telling us that he had gonorrhea sometime in the past. It’s a funny verse.

It’s a good, good song. Much different from how System of a Down provided it, for very obvious reasons. And even though that cover was the iteration of the track I heard before hearing the original, I’d say I’ve liked both on an equal level for a while at this point. You may ask why this song will be the only song from 36 Chambers that I’ll write about on here. I said that in the first paragraph. Well, ‘Clan in da Front’ was one I added when I think I’d already all the ‘C’ songs. And the obvious ones like ‘C.R.E.A.M.’ and ‘Method Man’ I got tired of due to my old iPhone seemingly playing those two nearly every day, even when I had all my songs on shuffle. I know those two are classics, but I could go a long while without hearing them again. But I’ll always have a lot of love for Wu-Tang. It’s for the children, as that old saying goes. The group’s music’s one thing. When you bring all the respective members’ solo material into it, it’s a different ballgame altogether. So, you know, if you never knew Wu-Tang before, the time to get to know them is now.