Tag Archives: out

#1431: Death from Above 1979 – Turn It Out

I remember being really excited for the release of The Physical World when that was to be the new, long-awaited second album by Death from Above 1979, back in 2014. Looking back, it was a bit of a bandwagon move. I didn’t follow the band during their original run together between 2001 and 2006, although I recall my sister singing ‘Black History Month’ a whole bunch. It was a single, she must have heard it somewhere. Years later I sort of fell into the sort of myth-like quality behind the duo. Sebastien Grainger and Jesse F. Keeler made and released You’re a Woman, I’m a Machine in 2004, eventually fell out with each other and split up a couple years later. That album was their only album for a long time, looked like it would only ever be their sole LP. Along the way, a band like Royal Blood – another duo made of a bass guitarist and drummer – showed up, and even though I never properly listened to them, I’d still think, “Death from Above did it first.” So when The Physical World was announced, it was like, “Yeah, now time to show ’em all how it’s done.” I had to do some learning. I did some homework via listening to You’re a Woman… in the lead-up to The Physical World‘s release.

‘Turn It Out’ starts the album off, and damn, what an opener. Soon as Keeler’s bass guitar comes thundering in, squeals and all in between, alongside Grainger’s drums, my face is scrunched up and my head is banging. If ever I’m walking down the street and the song comes on in the headphones, I need people to get out of the way – while this song is on, my head is down and I’m charging to where I need to get to. I think that’s helped by the fact that “I’m on the move, mother” is the lyric for what I guess is the chorus. Guessing, because it’s a very short one. There aren’t a lot of words in this song in general, looking at it. Maybe seven lines delivered by a wailing Grainger, all to do with a “I’d like to sit and chat, but time’s of the essence and I’ve got somewhere I need to go” feeling. But what it lacks in lyrical content is made up for by the bass guitar riffage and pummeling rhythms delivered in the two-and-a-half-minute length. The bass line sharply switches between low and high notes. Grainger’s pounding on the tom-toms. Those climbing bass runs during the “chorus” are killer. Everything’s an onslaught, with no time to relax until both members strike their respective instruments at the song’s end. The cymbals are left sizzling. It’s a spicy opening track.

Some songs on You’re a Woman… I’d come across already before digging into it. The video for ‘Romantic Rights’ would pop up now and again on MTV2. I once watched the video for ‘Blood on Your Hands’ out of the corner of my eye. It got to the part where the music stops and the little waiting-room-ish interlude begins after. I didn’t know what was going on. But a few listens to the whole song in the album’s context secured it as a strong, strong favourite of mine. And I owned Saints Row 2. ‘Sexy Results’ was on the game’s soundtrack. As a whole, I enjoyed the album quite a bit, hearing it that first time in the summer of 2014. It’s not one I return to all that often now. I think I have to be in the mood to hear some songs about get-togethers, relationships and the like set to thick bass lines. I don’t find myself in that kind of mood all that often. I’d say You’re a Woman… is something of a young man’s album. It’s all in the name too. I’m not the machine this album is probably aimed for. These things I just have to come to terms with.

#1336: The Strokes – Tap Out

Man, I wish someone in the Strokes comes to a realization one of these days that there are more songs on Comedown Machine that are worth playing in a live setting. They’ve done both ‘Call It Fate, Call It Karma’ and ‘Welcome to Japan’ so little times you could count them on one hand. At the time of writing this, they were most recently performed at the Chelsea in Las Vegas. ‘One Way Trigger’, they’ve done a few times too and also in that Vegas show. But there are others on that LP that I feel so many fans would tear a limb off to witness. For me, ‘Tap Out’ is a frontrunner in that category. Whenever you have a Strokes album, the first track on there usually goes down as one of the best on there. It’s just a thing that’s known. ‘Tap Out’ has strong competition with the likes of ‘Is This It’, ‘Machu Picchu’, ‘The Adults Are Talking’, and the others which will get their posts on here so I’ve chosen not to link them. But ‘Tap Out’ holds its ground. In fact, I might even say it’s one of my favourite Strokes songs, period.

I remember how unceremoniously Comedown Machine was treated by all parties when it came around in 2013. The band, taking a media blackout stance, didn’t promote it in any way. A music video for single ‘All the Time’ was made, which has since been made unavailable on YouTube. Goes to show how they feel about that. Its cover art was giving off the impression to some that the package was more a kiss-off to the label they were on than a fully-focused project. To quite a few, actually. And critics were pretty dismissive of it too. Pitchfork had a streaming platform that let listeners hear the album a week before its official release. That platform is now gone. ‘Tap Out’ was the first thing I heard. And it seemed so strange. Here was this new Strokes album that was getting no hype at all, but here was its first track that was entrancing, groovy and had all the markings off a great Strokes song. It was different, but in a good way, and was a mark that this new album wasn’t going to be the Is This It/Room on Fire throwback that I recall people desperately wanted at the time.

To me, ‘Tap Out’ feels like Julian Casablancas reflecting on the overwhelming hype the band received at the turn of the 21st century when they were deemed the saviours of rock and roll by many a publication, a hype that’s there to a lesser extent today but still lingers, and detailing a feeling that this whole Strokes thing might have resulted in something a little more than he bargained for. Particularly being the subject to many a question from an interviewer that he can’t muster the energy to provide an answer to. But despite the annoyed sentiment that I perceive, like I said earlier, the song is a groove. Classic guitar interplay between Nick Valensi and Albert Hammond, Jr. occurs throughout. The track introduces the vocal technique of Casablancas singing in his normal voice, with a falsetto overdub over the top, which is used frequently throughout the LP. And over the years, I’ve grown a particular appreciation for what I think is the organ on the left side that comes in during the choruses. Adds a divine, floaty dimension to the song while the other bandmembers continue on with the tight rhythm. This song is tight. Tight, tight, tight. Here’s where I would paste a video of a band performing the subject song live, but for reasons I’ve stated, I can’t. But one day. One day.

#1330: Franz Ferdinand – Take Me Out

It’s tea time. That’s right. Back at it again for the ‘T’ section on a random Saturday evening (where I am, it could be morning for you somewhere or late night somewhere else). And it starts off strongly, I’d say. ‘Take Me Out’, I think, was the first song I ever heard by Franz Ferdinand. I think that might be the same for a lot of people. I have a memory of being slumped in a chair, guess I must have been either eight or nine, watching MTV2, and the “I know I won’t be leaving here’ section of the song was playing alongside the repeating visuals of the music video near its end. It left an impression. The band name showed up, ‘Franz Ferdinand’. Thought it sounded pretty cool. ‘Matinée’, the next single, was where I really became interested in them. ‘Darts of Pleasure’ was the band’s first single officially. But with ‘Take Me Out’, the band became a household name in that British post-punk revival scene in the ’00s and the track became one of the biggest indie dancefloor anthems.

And, I think again like many others, when I heard the song in full for the first time, I was wondering how its beginning worked its way into sounding like it did at the end. Because the track begins in a totally different direction. Well, according to singer Alex Kapranos, he and fellow guitarist/bandmember/songwriter Nick McCarthy, who isn’t in the band anymore, were working on the song for sometime. They were trying to work out the structure and found that the verse/chorus/verse type structure wasn’t working. They would have to change tempos when going from one section to the next, which just didn’t sound right. Eventually they decided to lump all the faster verses at the beginning and put the slower choruses at the end, transitioning them together with that gradual slowing down in tempo around 50 seconds in. Or rallentando for you music theorists out there. That’s probably the best part of the song there. That tempo decrease marks that build in anticipation for what comes next.

What comes next is hook after hook after hook, as I sort of said earlier, usually accompanied by that widely recognisable guitar riff. They play it live, everyone sings the riff. It’s just how it goes. As to the lyrics and what it’s about, well, there’s a nice little podcast where Kapranos and bass guitarist Bob Hardy discuss these topics. I listened to it a while back, so I can’t remember exactly what was said. But I seem to remember Kapranos saying he took inspiration from a film of some kind, or a certain type of film made by a certain director. You’d better listen to the thing yourself. But just on the surface, without going too deep, you hear the words ‘Take Me Out’, I’d say you’d either there’s a romantic sentiment or a violent one. Like an assassination or something. And that would be neat with the band being called Franz Ferdinand and everything. I think it’s a little bit of both.

#1298: U2 – Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of

1,298 songs in, and we reach the first U2 song. It’ll be the only one, though, sorry. There are people out there who despise the band, mostly because they don’t like Bono. Me? I don’t have anything massive against them. I’m neither here nor there. I can’t say I’m the biggest fan. But they do have some fine, fine songs. When I really started getting into alternative/rock music in about 2004, it was during a time when the video for ‘Vertigo’ was playing almost every day on MTV2. The How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb era. And nine-year-old me thought it was a cool song. So I can sort of thank U2 for getting me into the genre a little more. But today’s song isn’t from that era of the band. It’s from the one that preceded it a good four years earlier. In 2000, U2 returned from an experimental phase during the ’90s with a back-to-basics rock album in All That You Can’t Leave Behind, and ‘Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of’ – the second song on there – was released as its second single in 2001.

And this is one of those occasions where I have a clear, clear memory of seeing its music video on TV during that time, even though I would have only been five years old. It was playing on The Box, which was kinda the mainstream UK pop music video channel of the time, and there was Bono on the TV screen rolling around on the floor over and over again. And because I was a child and still had years until my voice dropped, whenever I tried to sing, “Stuck in a moment and you can’t get out of it,” that “can’t get out of it” part was too low for my register. I didn’t have the diaphragm for it yet. For the longest time, in the back of my mind, I thought that if I was able to sing that phrase, it must have meant that the process of puberty had finally happened. I can gladly say at the age of 30, I can sing along to the track just fine. It wasn’t until a few years back that I revisited the song, gave it a few more listens with that core memory flashing in the brain and realized that I liked it a bunch.

Think it’s common knowledge that the track was written as a tribute to Michael Hutchence, a good friend of Bono’s, who was famously known for being the original lead singer for the rock band INXS. Hutchence passed away in 1997 through suicide, the action of which is kind of alluded to by Bono in the song’s bridge (“I was unconscious, half asleep” / “I wasn’t jumping, for me it was a fall” / “It’s a long way down to nothing at all”). Bono, saddened by what happened, wrote ‘Stuck in a Moment…’ as a things-he-wished-he-could-have-said song. He expresses his admiration for Hutchence and is still effected by him even with absence, but wishes he could have told him that whatever tough times he was going through, they would eventually pass and there was no need to feel so down. Guitarist The Edge also gets a moment on the lead vocal near the song’s end with the falsetto on the “And if the night runs over…” section. Though funnily, it gets pushed back into the mix to make way for Bono’s adlibbing. I like this one a lot. A track that reminds you to reach out to your friends in times of trouble. Or just on a frequent basis. ‘Cause you never know what could be happening.

#1297: Radiohead – Street Spirit (Fade Out)

On Radiohead’s The Bends, there’s a theme about the fear of getting old that shows it’s face throughout the record. On ‘Bones’, Thom Yorke sings about not wanting to be “crippled and cracked”. On ‘Fake Plastic Trees’, he talks about gravity always winning in reference to aging women who went through plastic surgery in the 1980s. Thom Yorke would have been 25/26 when working on the lyrics for the songs that would make up The Bends. But even then, I think it’s fair to say he might have been going through some existential crisis of some kind at the time. I think as we all do when we get to that mid-20s period. And closing the album off is a song about a thing we all know is certain in life. Death. The track is ‘Street Spirit (Fade Out)’, one of the group’s most sombre numbers which also happens to be one of their most popular too.

When it comes to me, well, I think I first came to know about the song when its music video played on MTV2, or one of those alternative music video channels, back in the 2000s. In between 2003 – 2007, when the band were on a bit of a hiatus, a Radiohead music video showing up on those places was a regular occurrence. Probably because the band were known to have some of the coolest of those types of media. The video for ‘Street Spirit’, with the whole manipulation of time thing going on in its scenes, was cool to witness to the small kid I was at that time. Thought it was so cool, in fact, that I tried to find the video online, which in a pre-YouTube world was very hard to do. Can only imagine what it must have felt like seeing something like it in 1996, when the song was released as a single. The track may be one of the band’s darkest. But man, if it isn’t catchy in its own uniquely bleak way. When that opening, circular guitar riff gets going, it’s very hard to stop listening to everything else that follows.

In the first verse, Thom Yorke depicts an image of a helpless figure feeling closed in by the houses that surround them. The second sees him referring to a machine that can’t communicate “the thoughts and the strain [he’s under]”. This got me thinking, maybe he’s talking about his guitar. Maybe he was really going through some things at the time. Or maybe he’s taking a point of view of a general machine used by an employee somewhere. After which he suggests we unite and be people of the world before we all end up underground. And in the third verse, he brings up imagery of cracked eggs and dying birds screeching through their lasts breaths. I did mention this song was bleak, didn’t I? Despite all this, the music is extremely infectious. You’ve got the riff I talked about in the last paragraph, but then there are the “Ah-na-na” vocals during the instrumental breaks. And then there’s Yorke’s actual vocal take, which just soars over everything. He changed up the way he sang from OK Computer onwards, so to have that Pablo Honey/Bends era style finish on this track is a massive way to go out. All very morose, but a lot of people love it, including myself, to the point that, if given an opportunity, there will sing it even louder than Yorke at a live performance. Like in the one below.