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#1294: Ween – Strap on that jammypac

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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.

#956: They Might Be Giants – Now That I Have Everything

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‘Now That I Have Everything’ was the first song on They Might Be Giants’ very first demo tape released in 1983. There may be only a few people out there who own that. Unless the track then hadn’t been officially released on Then: The Earlier Years in ’97, the track would most definitely have become one of the many TMBG songs that you could only find in a lower audio quality on a bootleg somewhere. If ‘Everything Right Is Wrong Again’ hadn’t been considered as the album opener to the band’s first album, ‘Now That I Have Everything’ could have taken its spot. Coincidentally, they both have the word ‘everything’ in their titles, but they also have an upbeat inviting tone to them while also sharing a theme of situations not being as great as they seem/used to be.

The track actually goes way back before They Might Be Giants were even a band. Prior to their formation, John Linnell was the keyboard player in a band called The Mundanes and had written the track while in that position. They tried to rehearse the track, but he was too shy to sing out loud. It can only be assumed that he kept it in his locker and was more than ready to do something with it when John Flansburgh came around. To my knowledge, there’s no reason as to why Flansburgh takes the lead vocal on the track instead of Linnell, but I’m not complaining because he does such a fine job. At this point it would feel strange to hear Linnell on the vocal, even though it’s his song. Maybe Flansburgh could pull off the ‘man who has everything’ persona that the track is based on. Who knows, it’s all suggestions. Those are my ramblings on the vocals over.

Like a lot of other They Might Be Giants songs, the melody is all there instantly. I don’t know how they do it, but they possess a abundant knack for that stuff that’s difficult to find. Unlike other TMBG songs, there’s a distinct absence of guitar. Instead the keyboards provide the rhythm chords and lead riffs, noticeably during the track’s outro and a little part about 45 seconds in that borrows the melody from a 1963 song called ‘On Broadway’. While the Johns perform in standard 4/4 time, the programmed drums are playing in 5/4, which provide this chaotic feel as these fills and cymbal hits come in at seemingly random points. You’re never quite sure where the downbeat is. Funnily enough, the drum track was taken directly from a drumbeat CD, and you can listen to that exact beat here. So yes, a good mix of musically interesting and melodic accessibility. That’s really all you ever need from a song. It’s on show here. It’s on show a lot of the time with TMBG.

#949: Tame Impala – Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control

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Very well might be the song with the longest title that I’ve covered on here so far. ‘Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control’ is the penultimate track on Tame Impala’s 2012 album, Lonerism, a record whose mesh of psychedelia and hard rock with these spiralling synths and accessible melodies warmed a lot of people’s hearts upon its release and to this day. Kevin Parker embarked on going into a more pop-orientated direction, starting with 2015’s Currents and making itself more apparent on The Slow Rush, and sometimes there’ll be a comment or two that I see wishing that his music was more like the Lonerism days. It probably won’t happen. But I silently wish it too just a little. Though maybe he’ll surprise us all.

‘Nothing That Has Happened’ carries a theme that, thinking about it, would be further echoed in the first track of Tame Impala’s next record. Things that arise in life are at the most by chance, and really we have to just let these things happen (nudge-nudge, wink-wink). Tells you everything you need to know about the theme in the title to be honest. But when it comes to the music, it’s a swirling, twisting and turning six-minute experience. What I’ve always envisioned when hearing this song, is it being played live at a concert where people are high and having a good time. But for the narrator here it all gets a bit too much. He freaks out, leaves the room, gets calmed down by his girlfriend (spoken interlude here provided by Melody Prochet of Melody’s Echo Chamber) and goes back in chiller than before, but still having a bit of an existential crisis. And it’s just brilliant how this is all reflected in the production, like how the music goes quieter during the interlude, almost like its playing behind some doors before increasing in volume again. Or how the synthesizers upon the narrator’s ‘return’ to the room, get all hazy and pan all over the place in the ears. Simply a great passage of music to get lost in.

Think a shout-out should be made to Kevin Parker’s drumming throughout the whole song. I remember seeing a video where someone described his fills as the sound of a drumkit ‘falling down the stairs’, and I think that’s quite the accurate way to portray it. I think the same fill pattern is replayed over and over during the verses, but the way they fall from the snare to the toms and then are finished off with the cymbal crashes on each guitar strum is pretty wicked. Hard not to flail along and air-drum to them. Like other songs on Lonerism, the track has a rather long instrumental jam – one where the synthesizers are allowed to do their own thing, blipping in and out of the soundscape and doing some genuinely freaky stuff among the intensifying drums, before proceeding to undergo a solo that leads right back to the song’s introduction. So nice how circular the song is, and its probably the musical climax of the entire album before things slow down for its closer.

#766: Guttermouth – Looking Good Is All That Matters

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After ‘I’m Destroying the World’ by Guttermouth became a song that I was always looking forward to hearing while playing Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3 back in the day, the band’s album Covered with Ants was a constant request for birthdays and Christmases. I never did get the CD. It took until 2012 when Spotify had just properly got going, that I was able to listen to the album in full. And it wasn’t bad. Not the greatest album of all time, but if you’re into skate punk and like some sarcasm in your music then it’s worth a shot.

‘Looking Good Is All That Matters’ is the fifth track on Covered with Ants, and is a basic criticism of those who have no self-respect for themselves and only motivated by physical appearances. The first verse sets the scene, with the description of a date where the man clearly can’t stand the person he’s with but she looks good so he may as well stay. The second describes a girl who throws up to maintain her slim figure. The whole message is summed up in the sarcastic chorus: “Looking good is all that matters/God bless our society.”

This track got my immediate attention when listening through the album the first time. I always enjoy a bit of humour in the music I listen to, and ‘Looking Good’ runs on that. Nothing like jokingly pointing out people’s insecurities to fast-paced punk chords.

#650: …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead – It Was There That I Saw You

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‘It Was There That I Saw You’, the (almost) opener of Trail of Dead’s 2002 album Source Tags & Codes still gets me pumped today. I listened to the full album for the first time about five years ago and ended up pleasantly surprised by the entire thing. There’s this grand mystical vibe that the music and lyrics give out throughout which some may find pretentious but I found bearable at least.

But ‘I Was There’ starts it all off with this calming introduction that suddenly explodes into a ball of energy with crashing drums and exhilarating guitar work. It is during this moment that singer Conrad Keely comes into frame singing about the time he became enamoured by someone (I’ll assume a lady) and had some great times with her before eventually losing touch. He is left wondering what he has been up to in the time that have been apart.

It’s endearing stuff. But then the fast music suddenly stops and transitions into this slow breakdown – with a melody taken from the preceding track ‘Invocation’ – that builds and builds in intensity, repeating that melody endlessly before transitioning back into the fast music you were hearing almost two minutes ago. Ahhh… it feels so good when that happens. You can experience it too!

It’s a dynamic track that pulls and pushes and takes a few turns here and there. It’s an exciting listen. It’s a great album, I say.