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#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

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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.

#1073: Supergrass – Pumping on Your Stereo

#1060: Blur – Pressure on Julian

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I feel it’s fair to say that if ever anyone was to think of Blur’s Modern Life Is Rubbish album, its fourth track ‘Pressure on Julian’ wouldn’t be the first that would come to mind. That specific album comes at a weird space in Blur’s career. With it, they began to embark on the whole British music for British people aesthetic which would be their inspiration for their following two albums. But they also weren’t the massively popular band that they would become once that first following album arrived. Out of that ‘Life’ trilogy, as it’s become to be known as, Modern Life… has been my preferred record for the longest time, and while songs like ‘For Tomorrow’ or ‘Chemical World’ may be firm favourites among Blur fans, it’s the deeper cuts from there that have been right up my alley for up to 10 years now.

Actually, it was probably a re-listen to the album in about 2015 where a lot more of the songs clicked and I recognised the record’s strength as a whole. The one note that people may know about ‘Pressure on Julian’ is that the Julian in the title is a reference to Julian Cope, lead singer/songwriter for The Teardrop Explodes, who was also former bandmates with Blur’s manager at the time, Dave Balfe. The reference was only included because any lyrical/music reference (usually done intentionally by Damon Albarn) would drive Balfe insane. However, the song really has nothing to do with Cope, and if you were to have a read through of the song’s lyrics I couldn’t blame you if you were left clueless as to what Albarn was singing about here. I’m not even too sure myself. The ‘magical transit children’ phrase in the first verse was taken from some graffiti spotted during a photo shoot. But all in all, there’s not much coherency within those verses overall. Maybe the whole thing really was just a ploy to annoy their manager. With the “We planned it all this way” repetition in the choruses, it’s only come to me now that that is most likely what they were trying to achieve.

The song is led by this rolling drum pattern that I can only describe as sounding like a train pulling out of a station, joined by Alex James’s jumping bassline and Graham Coxon’s swirling guitar work. Albarn comes in on the vocal, harmonising with himself when the verses build in intensity with what sounds like the addition of more guitars in the mix, before falling into the short choruses that reach a climax with the elongated utterance of the song’s title. There’s also the notable instrumental middle part where the track’s tempo speeds up slightly bit by bit, increasing in tension before exploding into a finish with a climactic guitar chord and falling back into the train-type rhythm established at the song’s start. If only I were into my music theory or composition, maybe I could write this in a way that would make this much more informative to read. Hopefully, you’d be able to tell what I’m on about through listening to the song. And if not, you could at least watch Graham Coxon talking about the track himself. He did play on the track himself, when it comes down to it.

#1035: Good Shoes – The Photos on My Wall

The Music in My Ears

A blog about music (and sometimes other things).