Tag Archives: only

#993: My Bloody Valentine – Only Shallow

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Welcoming you into the world of My Bloody Valentine’s 1991 opus Loveless are four strikes of a snare drum and an incomprehensible noise of what I could only describe as elephant/vacuum-like sounding sirens over an ascending chord progression. When I was going through what were considered to be the best albums ever, according to besteveralbums.com, around 2012/13, I came across this album. This track, ‘Only Shallow’, starts it off. By the end of the LP, I still hadn’t really understood what I had just heard. It was certainly different then. It’s still in a league of its own more than 30 years later.

10 years on from that first listen, I’ve come to understand it a lot more. Particularly this track. It eventually occurred to me that paying close attention to the track’s bassline was the key to realising what was going on, ’cause amidst those guitar strings are continuously warping and bending due to Kevin Shields’ signature use of the whammy bar, the aforementioned elephant noises and Bilinda Butcher’s dreamy but hushed vocals, it can be difficult to find that element that makes sense through all the commotion. That’s just my personal experience though. And I’m not saying that the bassline is the best part of the whole track, I just find it to be the melodic centre that anchors everything together. It plays these higher notes during the dreamy verses, sort of following the same progression as Butcher’s vocal, so when it reverts to the track’s main riff where all the noises come into the mix again, the whole track regains such a heavy momentum.

There are lyrics within this song. No one really knows what they are. Any lyrics site that has them up there probably have words that sound close to what’s being said. Looking through each album track on those places, you can kind of gauge that the lyrics are going more for a approach of sound more than sense. But officially, no one knows for sure. Just adds to the mystery of it all. This what this track is, mysterious. It’s well-documented how Kevin Shields got the sounds he required to make the entire record and how he almost bankrupted the record label in doing so. But even then you’re still left wondering how this track sounds the way it does. If I haven’t said so already, I like this track a lot. But man, is it hard to describe.

#992: Arctic Monkeys – Only Ones Who Know

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I can recall really not caring for this track at all upon first listen in 2007. I was 12, all pepped up/full of energy, and I didn’t have time for slow songs. But as the years have passed and the hands of time have gripped on my shoulders, ‘Only Ones Who Know’ has slowly revealed itself to become one of my favourites from Favourite Worst Nightmare. Sometimes you need the slower songs just to release the tension. To wallow in and absorb the moments. And ‘Only Ones…’ does both those things, arriving right in the middle of the record as the sort of soothing interlude to close out the album’s first half.

The two main instruments utilised throughout are Alex Turner and Jamie Cook’s reverb-drenched guitars, one being the rhythm that provides the song’s chord progression and the other providing an almost weeping, violin-like tone to accentuate the intro’s melody. Turner comes in with the vocal eventually, crooning about a couple who, somehow, against all odds, seem to have really got it down and are perfect for one another. At least from what he sees anyway. They appear to have the inside jokes and small subtle ticks that only they can relate to, the sentiment of which I believe lends the track its title. Other people just won’t understand.

Fair to say, Alex Turners whole M.O. was writing observational tracks about couples and people in love and out of it in those times that people may consider to be the best years of Arctic Monkeys. Is it possible that he didn’t get more sincere and emotionally earnest than in this song? I think so. Show me another one of theirs. It’s good to discuss. To me, some of Arctic Monkeys earlier stuff I can’t listen to in the same way. They remind me of being way younger and the whole indie rock music scene of those times. But it’s tunes like this one that showed why they were considered to be head-and-shoulders above the rest during that period.

#991: Neil Young – Only Love Can Break Your Heart

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After discovering Nick Drake’s Pink Moon when I was about 17 years old, I went on a bit of a folk trip and tried to find albums that had sort of the same vibe. Some good came out of it. Some not so much. But through that journey I stumbled upon Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush. That album’s the first of his that I ever listened to. I don’t think I’d ever sat down and listened to a single one of Young’s songs before. Upon research, it seemed the album would be a good place to get a feel of what he was about. And upon listening through, I picked up on two basic things. He could write some great songs, and he had a really high singing voice.

‘Only Love Can Break Your Heart’ is the third song on After the Gold Rush. Whoever sorted out the tracklist knew what they were doing, I’ve come to conclude. ‘Tell Me Why’ starts it all off with its inviting acoustic tone, then the title track arrives as the slow contemplative statement of the ’70s. So it’s only right that ‘Only Love…’ comes as the first track on there that sounds like it’s meant to be the obvious single. And it was, released a month after the album had been available. The song’s a sweet one, bit melancholy too. One about how innocent life when you’re young, naive and single before you fall in love and have a relationship with someone, and how when that relationship ends it’ll probably be the most painful experience you’ve had in your life up to that point. Nicely emphasised by the change from major key to a minor key during the transitions from verses to choruses, signifying the bright, optimistic youthful outlook before heartbreak comes and ruins it all.

I feel like if I was to tell someone that ‘Only Love Can Break Your Heart’ was my favourite Neil Young to someone who’d been listening to the guy for years, I’d probably be met with a scoff and a “Yeah, it’s all right, but really?” kind of answer. “Everyone knows that.” I’m sure they wouldn’t be that judgemental, but every artist/band has those type of people. Even so, I don’t think I’ve listened to enough Neil Young to really confirm what that favourite track is. Going through the 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die book has helped introduce me to more of his albums. Young taking them off Spotify has hindered that process. Still very much a beginner here 10 years later. But if it turns out that ‘Only Love…’ and ‘Cripple Creek Ferry’ are the only Neil Young tracks I discuss on here, then you’ll probably be able to guess how much of a fan I am of his.

#990: Simon & Garfunkel – The Only Living Boy in New York

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Upon going through Simon & Garfunkel’s Bridge over Troubled Water album in about 2012/13, there were two clear highlights, at least to me, that stuck out on that first listen. Those were ‘Keep the Customer Satisfied’ and today’s song ‘The Only Living Boy in New York’. Sure, the title track is right there. But it’s never been one that I’ve wilfully gone out of my way to listen to. Probably ever. The rest of the album tracks all have their moments. But it’s always been those two for me. And since I’ve written the post about ‘Customer’, well, I better start going on about this one.

‘…Living Boy…’ was written by Paul Simon during a time when singing partner Art Garfunkel took an acting role and had to travel to Mexico for a lengthy period in order to shoot his scenes. Simon, overcome with these feelings of loneliness, transferred all of this emotion the best way he could into song. He wishes his partner the best of luck and wishes him well; he addresses him as ‘Tom’, which is what Garfunkel would go under when the pair performed as ‘Tom and Jerry’ in their early years. He gets some delight from the mundane things like checking out the weather report for the latest news. Still, the separation doesn’t stop Simon from feeling like the only person existing in the big city of New York. There’s a subtle hint of conflict too, as it seems Simon knows that this acting bit is something that Art is really into. He pleas to him that if he wants to follow through with it, then he should just tell him instead of making excuses. It’s a bit of a turbulent affair, and it would all end when the act broke up and went their separate ways some time after the album’s release.

However the lyrics are interpreted, it doesn’t get in the way of how comforting a listen this track always is. Simon takes the lead vocal here, double-tracked and maybe singing really close to the microphone. I don’t know what it is, maybe he’s using a certain type of mic, maybe it’s an effect, but whatever is used gives his vocal a real close and intimate feel. Like he’s singing you to sleep or something. It’s a gentle delivery with a fine melody with a backdrop of acoustic guitars and a skipping bassline. The whole track delivers for the most part, but then comes that glorious moment when those glorious harmonies from the two singers enter the frame, brought in effect by performing those vocals in an echo chamber and multi-tracking it around eight times. They’re heavenly moments, like lights at the end of the tunnel. It’s at these parts where I guess Garfunkel appears in front of Simon after everything’s happened, telling him to not worry because “Here I am.” Maybe that’s looking too deep. All in all, like a few other songs on Trouble Water, ‘…Living Boy…’ is another personal look into what made those two guys tick.

#989: Weezer – Only in Dreams

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2006 was the year that I listened through Weezer’s Blue Album for the first time. I was 11 years old and had somehow stumbled upon ‘Buddy Holly’, ‘Undone’ and ‘Say It Ain’t So’ through the TV and music video sites that weren’t YouTube. I liked all three. It only made sense to own the album they were on, so I could listen to them whenever I wanted. Every track on there was instantly memorable. The guitars, good. The harmonies, good. The choruses, very nice. And coming through the decked-out speakers my uncle installed for the XP computer, it certainly made for an experience. But at that age, I still didn’t have quite the attention span. My eye had caught the just-about eight minute length of the final track ‘Only in Dreams’ on Windows Media Player. Not to say that everything I had heard depended on how it ended, but a kid doesn’t usually have the patience to sit through that long a song. The wall of feedback at the end of ‘Holiday’ left a brief period of silence, and then the bass guitar riff of ‘…Dreams’ started. And I was pretty much entranced from that point onward. Very hypnotic way to start, which makes those guitar entrances for the choruses really special.

The track is one in which Rivers Cuomo, or at the least the nameless narrator here, is detailing this alluring, mystical lady who he just can’t get his mind off. She seems to be the perfect woman. He’s written the lyric with a second-person narrative, as if addressing the listener. You know, “you can’t resist her, she’s in your bones”. But taking into account the observational takes of women that would be a constant through the band’s discography, I think it’s fair to say it’s all coming from a very personal experience. Cuomo details a fairytale of a man and woman holding hands and floating into the ether, only to wake up, realise that it’s all been a dream and be left disappointed by a lonely reality. Hey, it’s relatable stuff. Could say it may suffer from little sappy. But goodness, the crunch of those guitars that come in during the choruses add so much emotional weight that anything else that happens during this song is justified.

I think we can all agree that the highlight of the entire track is the breakdown that happens about five minutes in. By that point, the singing has finished – you won’t hear Cuomo’s voice again. And starting with the bass guitar again, the track solo rises in intensity with Patrick Wilson smacking on the drums and cymbals and dueling guitar lines, courtesy of Cuomo. This section seems to go on and on, there’s a huge build in tension. You wonder where it’s gonna go. And the release happens when all the guitars fall in, playing the bass guitar riff in unison. It’s a glorious moment, capped off with a spectacular solo, coming to an end in the comedown with Matt Sharp’s bass – just like the track started. That’s how the whole album ends. And that’s how Weezer introduced themselves to the world. Talk about a way to start things off.