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#739: David Bowie – Life on Mars?

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Ah, 2016. Seems like such a simpler time. It was one of the best years of my life. I turned 21; I was on a hiatus from this blog but was working at a music magazine as an intern; I got to go to Glastonbury for free; I went to the USA on a long trip in the last few months that Obama was still president. It was a great time for me. But all the while that year will always be remembered as the one where everyone you loved in the entertainment industry suddenly started passing away. George Michael. Muhammad Ali. Gene Wilder. Prince. Alan Rickman. Leonard Cohen. Carrie Fisher. Debbie Reynolds, Fisher’s mother, who died the next day. There are many more I could mention. It seemed like every week of every month someone of notable fame was suddenly gone.

And it all started when David Bowie, who had just released his album Blackstar and looked like he was making a musical comeback, passed away from cancer just two days after the record came out. 10 days into January that happened. But it wasn’t until the 11th that the news came out. I was on the way to work on the underground flicking through the socials as you do, and there was a post that more or less said ‘RIP Starman’. That was how I found out. And coincidentally, the track ‘Life on Mars?’ was lined up on shuffle on my phone while I was listening to my music library. No lies. It was a sad day. And I just so happened to be working in Brixton of all places while this was going down. I just wanted to get home from work that evening. Hours later, the route I usually walked down to get to Brixton station was packed with fans paying tribute to him.

So this is ‘Life on Mars?’, and it’s on Bowie’s 1971 album Hunky Dory. It’s very much a classic. I think it’s known that Bowie took the chords of ‘My Way‘ and put his own spin on that track, adding surreal lyrics about a mousey-haired girl and Mickey Mouse turning into a cow. I don’t know what the song’s about, really. Though I think the things he describes in there are basically a way of saying, “Well if all this crazy stuff is happening here, couldn’t it be possible that there’s life on Mars too?” It’s probably much more complex than that. Even if the lyrics are quite strange, there’s no denying the beauty of the music. Rick Wakeman’s piano and Mick Ronson’s string arrangement lift the song to an entirely different level. It’s no surprise that this song is considered to be one of Bowie’s greatest, if not that, one of the greatest songs of all time.

#722: Arctic Monkeys – Leave Before the Lights Come On

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I don’t think there wasn’t a time in 2006 when Arctic Monkeys weren’t on everyone’s lips. The band released Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not in January of that year after months of online hype, remarkable live performances and two #1 singles to their name. It became the fastest selling debut album in UK chart history. Everyone loved them. They released an EP a few months later which didn’t chart but included some songs that they had recorded in the meantime. Then their original bassist Andy Nicholson left and was replaced by Nick O’Malley who still plays with them today.

Their first single with O’Malley on board was ‘Leave Before the Lights Come On’, a track recorded way after the band’s debut album was done but one that Alex Turner stated could have been on the record because it followed similar themes that many of the album tracks had. I was eleven years old when this track was released. 2006 was one of the greatest times of my life. World Cup ’06, last year of primary school, it was a good summer. I remember ‘Leave Before the Lights” video making its rounds on MTV2 UK on the daily. That’s how I got to know the song. A woman gets a man’s attention by looking like she’s about to jump off a building. The man ‘saves’ her, she gets a bit too attached to him, he gets angry at her, and then she runs back to the building where she sees drummer Matt Helders walking past. The cycle continues. It’s more a little film accompanying the music than your standard band performance.

Very similar to the songs on Whatever People Say, particularly ‘From Ritz to the Rubble’, ‘Leave Before the Lights’ is the song that exploring the mix of feelings that may arise the morning after a one night stand. “How did I get here?” “She didn’t look like that last night…” “I should probably get out of here quickly.” Among others. It’s classic Alex Turner observational lyricism that he was especially good at in that early era of the band. I also feel it’s one of the group’s best musical performances from that time too. Both Turner and Jamie Cook’s guitars interlock with one another, Turner will play some guitar fills while Cook plays rhythm and vice versa, Matt Helders keeps a strong hold on the drums and O’Malley fits into the group dynamic like a glove straight away. The song’s ending instrumental breakdown is one of the best musical moments by the band in their discography, I think.

It was the first single of theirs that didn’t get to #1 in the UK charts. It peaked at #4. And for a song that doesn’t appear on an album of theirs, I think it still holds up very well today.

#716: Queen – Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

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Queen do a ‘days of the week’ song in today’s post. In December 2018 I went on a quest to listen through the band’s discography. Having done so, I then went on to rank them according to my own preference. I picked A Night at the Opera as my number one, not a brave pick by any standard because it is widely agreed to be their best album. Even so it’s ‘Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon’ from that album, the shortest song on there and arguably the one with the least substance, that I find myself singing along and wanting to listen to repeatedly.

Freddie Mercury takes you through a list of activities he does during the week. They are as follows: Working, going off to honeymoon, bicycling, waltzing to the zoo, painting in the Louvre, he’s not sure what he’ll do on Saturday but he’s bound to be proposing, and he’ll definitely be lazing on the Sunday. That’s all well and good. I think I’m just a sucker for the whole music hall vibe of the track. The vocals were recorded through a tin-can which provides the ‘loudspeaker’ effect on Mercury’s voice. John Deacon and Roger Taylor provide a bouncy rhythm that Freddie does some dainty piano fills over. And quite unexpectedly the song changes key and Brian May comes in with about three overdubbed guitar solos to close the song out. All in just over a minute.

‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ is on this album. You know that one. Everyone does. But when I’m listening to this album, I don’t know what it is, ‘Sunday Afternoon’ just perks me up. The definition of short and sweet.

#688: Tame Impala – Keep on Lying

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A five year wait for a new Tame Impala album ended last month when Kevin Parker gave the world The Slow Rush. I gave it a listen on Valentine’s Day (that’s the day it was released on). I’ve given it a few more since. And I have come to my conclusion that it just doesn’t hit the sweet spot for me. ‘It Might Be Time’ is probably my favourite song on there. As Parker moves towards his pop-oriented singer-songwriter , it felt like the whole album was missing a proper groove. There weren’t many interesting rhythms that were always so present on the preceding three albums.

The majority of the time, the bass guitar has been a major melodic element in Tame Impala songs. ‘The Less I Know the Better’ is a prime example where the instrument takes the centre stage. There are many others too. Some of which I’ve written about. ‘Keep on Lying’ is another in which the the rhythm section is just as, if not more interesting than the vocals and production that surrounds it.

Parker sings about being a terrible person who can’t stop lying to their other half, hiding important information and generally causing emotional distress. In the end, he’s left alone to face the truth that ‘it never really was love’. That is in the first minute and 45 seconds of the track. What follows for almost the duration is an instrumental passage led by a thick bassline, dueling guitar riffs, organ solos and keyboard vamps which are sometimes drowned out by sped-up and spun round clips of people having conversations. It gets crazier and crazier as the song goes on and on before a guitar suddenly starts freaking out at the four minute mark. And just when the track is about to close its first verse comes back in again, I guess to signify the repeating nature in which Parker will just continue to lie to the next lady he meets.

This song’s a jam. Not to say that Kevin Parker has to make another Lonerism. We already have one. It’s done. But, for me, if there weren moments that matched this music on The Slow Rush…. I would have enjoyed it more by a large margin.

My iPod #534: John Lennon – Hold On

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John Lennon’s solo album John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band opens with “Mother”, a five and a half minute track that ends with him screaming his vocals to shreds as he pleads for his parents to come back into his life. For the first song of what was his first album since leaving The Beatles, it is heavy to say the least. “Hold On” follows it to make the listener feel a bit happier about themselves for a short time with Lennon singing about how everything is going to be alright for him, his wife and the whole world.

Featuring only Lennon on tremolo-filtered guitar, Klaus Voormann on bass and Ringo Starr on drums, the song is a relaxing listen – perfect to chill out to on those warm sunny days when everything is in its right place. The laid-back vibes underpin the track’s message of optimism and reassurance. John randomly imitates the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street in it too.

These good feelings only lasts for less than two minutes. John doesn’t get much positive than this for the rest of the album. You have to enjoy it while it lasts.