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#1369: Kanye West – Through the Wire

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I remember ‘Through the Wire’ being a single when it first came around in those halcyon days of 2003. Its music video was playing somewhere, and little notifications popped up covering how Kanye West was in a car accident where he almost died, but didn’t, and had to have his jaw wired shut. Whoever was running those notes made it very clear that he hadn’t passed away, he was very much alive. But eight-year-old me didn’t get the picture. Aaliyah had died a couple years earlier, and the video for ‘More Than a Woman’ came out posthumously. I don’t think I’d got over that and was convinced that ‘Through the Wire’ was that type of deal. But then 2004 came around, videos from The College Dropout were dropping for ‘All Falls Down’, ‘The New Workout Plan’ and others. I slowly but surely became convinced that Kanye West might not have actually died after all. My sister got The College Dropout, either as a gift or by her own actions, and there’s many a memory I have of hearing its music around the house during those days.

So, ‘Through the Wire’. What could I say about it that isn’t covered in its Wikipedia page, really? It was Kanye West’s debut single, properly introducing the world to the man if they hadn’t paid attention to the production credits he’d racked up to that point. It’s the song he initially recorded vocals for with his jaw wired shut while he was recovering from the near-fatal crash he experienced when he had fallen asleep at the wheel of his car. When the song first came around, I didn’t think his voice didn’t sound all that bad considering his situation. It turned out he had just re-recorded the vocal when his jaws were free again. The original recording shows how much he could really only mumble in the state his face was in. So, as he says, he was very much delivering his message through the wires. Plus, it heavily samples Chaka Khan’s ‘Through the Fire’, with Khan’s vocals pitched-up to the maximum, a standard in the “chipmunk soul” West brought to the mainstream during that period. Chaka Khan says she didn’t like what West did to her voice. She also performed her song live alongside him at the VMAs. Who knows how she feels? All I can tell you for certain is that I like it, if it wasn’t clear.

I listened to this song again yesterday, just to gear myself up and gain some thoughts on what I wanted to write. I only just realised that at about 1:40 in the song, whoever’s playing the bass guitar plays a bum note before carrying on. It’s hard not to notice it now. But that miniscule detail can’t detract from the overall result. ‘Through the Wire’ is a classic tale of the phoenix rising from the ashes, with West humorously recounting his experiences of the crash, the aftermath and his experience in the hospital. “The doctor said I had blood clots / But I ain’t Jamaican, man”. I’ve always liked that lyric. It’s simple, but it does the job. I could go through the track line-by-line, but there’s no fun in that. And there are websites available for that purpose anyway. Generally, it’s a track like this that makes me miss how Kanye West used to be. He poked fun at that kind of sentiment in 2016. But in these times, it rings truer than ever. The Life of Pablo was his last album, though, wasn’t it? Can’t remember him releasing anything else afterwards.

#1358: Nick Drake – Things Behind the Sun

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It always comes back to Pink Moon. There have been a few “last songs from an album” posts around recently. After this, there’s only one more to come from Pink Moon. Any fan of it will be able to correctly guess what song that post will be for. But for now, this one’s for ‘Things Behind the Sun’. The track is the longest one on Nick Drake’s third and final studio album, positioned right in the middle of it, acting more as the closing number for the LP’s first half before you’d flip the vinyl around and listen to the second. Even back when I first heard the track in late, late 2012, it did feel like I was listening to what was meant to be considered the record’s most poignant moment. This and the preceding instrumental, ‘Horn’, together make up a one-two punch of poignancy. They both sounded so much sadder than anything else than the numbers that came before. But then again, I think ‘Horn’ acts as more of the tone setter, the moment of quiet reflection before the storm of ‘Things…’ begins soon after.

Not like ‘Things…’ is this wild, raucous rock number or anything. It’s just as acoustic as everything else the album delivers. It’s a storm in terms of the tone… there’s something uneasy, disquieting about it. It’s probably the minor key it’s in for the verses. That would do it. ‘Things Behind the Sun’ sees Drake detail his disillusionment with his musical endeavours. He goes out to perform, but he doesn’t trust the people who go and watch him. And as he goes about his way, observing people on his idle travels, he sees how they act and concludes that there’s no point in trying to win their hearts with his music – the likelihood is they won’t listen anyway. It seems to me that this is a track – another being ‘Harvest Breed’ – where he more or less implies that he won’t be around for much longer, or at least has thought about the end of his life, but doesn’t want to “name the day” on which it happens or reveal that he’s tried to end it before. So until then, where the more sprightly, happier chord progressions come in, he’ll take his time, find delight in the dark humour he appreciates that makes other people frown and generally keep to himself with his head down while he carries on feeling depressed. He’s comfortable in his state of dejection. It’s all very bittersweet.

And just like almost everything other song on Pink Moon. the track is provided to you solely by Nick Drake with his weary vocal and fingerpicked acoustic guitar. Goes to show how much you can do with so little. One thing I’ve always liked about this tune is how rhythmic Drake’s playing style is. He sort of skips around from one chord to the next throughout, playing a root note or two in between. It really shows during the guitar break halfway through when he jumps higher and higher with the progression before dipping back downwards again and repeating the process again. I’ve always thought this and ‘Which Will’ – which if you didn’t guess, will be the next song – both had a rhythm that could have been infused into a hip-hop track of some kind easily, which I guess would be sacrilege to some for weird reasons, but it’s just how I feel. Then Kendrick Lamar used a re-recorded sample of ‘Things…’ in one of his own songs – unreleased, mind you – and my point was proven. But overall, it’s disheartening to listen Drake’s track and hear how let down he was by the fact – and it was a fact at the time – that his music wasn’t going anywhere, not making him the big star that he wanted to be and that people told him he could be. It happened eventually, people love his music now. If only he’d stuck around.

#1352: Radiohead – There there. (The Boney King of Nowhere.)

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Now, I got Hail to the Thief in about 2010, I think for my fifteenth birthday. But I’d been knowing of the album’s existence since at least 2004. ‘Myxomatosis’ was the first Radiohead song I ever heard. A good little story, that one. You can read it if you want. But when it comes to ‘There there.’, things become a little more unclear. I’d definitely heard the song before I got the physical CD, but I can’t remember that one time when the song truly clicked. I have a vague memory of listening to it on the old, old family Windows XP computer and getting into it. I have another of watching its music video somewhere and getting into it. Which event came first, I can’t recall, I’m sorry. I have clearer memories of singing it in the shower alongside ‘Paranoid Android’ in my teenage days, seeing if I could get myself cleaned before I finished both songs. The track’s just always been around at this point, and I’m thankful ’cause I’ve got a deep appreciation for it.

Thinking about it, it would make sense that I saw the music video first before going ahead and probably pirating it to listen to on the computer. To sum it up bluntly and needlessly crudely, Thom Yorke fucks around in a forest and finds out. It’s better if you watch the thing. It’s one of those rare, rare occasions of a music video (that I’ve come across in my days) where the visual goes so well with the music that the combination of the two creates this overall heightened experience. But the song by itself is pretty great too. Starts off all ominous with those tom-toms and rim clicks and Colin Greenwood’s bass guitar. The feedback of Yorke’s guitar kicks into gear before he properly starts playing. “In pitch dark, I go walking in your landscape / Broken branches trip me as I speak”. Strong beginning lines to a track, for sure. Vivid and evocative from the jump. But it’s all about that A major chord that introduces the chorus where I always get hit with that warm feeling, and then Yorke hits you with “Just ’cause you feel it doesn’t mean it’s there.” Ain’t that the truth, usually? Such a universal sentiment delivered so earnestly. If the track isn’t an instant like for you at that point, it never will be.

The song continues to chug along. The second verse and chorus come round, now with added backing vocals both sung by Yorke – I think – in the left and right channels. Meant to represent that symbolism of an angel and devil on your shoulder, I’ve always felt, which I think is reinforced by that “Someone on your shoulder” line. Thom Yorke wails the song’s title, marking the point where the music takes a turn. Jonny Greenwood’s guitar comes in on the left-hand side, the energy ramps up, Thom Yorke turns into a tree, and you’re left wondering how you got to this point from where it all initially started. It’s not unusual for a Radiohead song to begin in one direction before seamlessly changing to another. But with ‘There there.’, you get a very notable example. There’s a reason the crowd goes wild when those tom-tom stands are propped up in front of Ed O’Brien and Jonny Greenwood at their live shows. They know shit’s about to go down.

#1348: The Velvet Underground – That’s the Story of My Life

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‘That’s the Story of My Life’ is a tune from The Velvet Underground’s self-titled album from 1969, one I heard when I came across that particular record… I think some time in 2013. I was going through a best ever albums list on a site called besteveralbums.com. That’s a place I’ve shouted-out many a time on here, it’s never done me wrong. The Velvet Underground was placed relatively high on that list, and through listening 18- or 19-year-old me was exposed to tracks like ‘Pale Blue Eyes’, ‘Beginning to See the Light’, ‘Jesus’… There’s a lot of good stuff on there. ‘That’s the Story…’ is the album’s shortest song. Some may even argue it a little inconsequential, more a palate cleanser for the huge experimental track that follows. I’m sure I probably felt the same way, initially. But at this point it’s more or less one of my favourites on the LP. Once you’ve got the lyrics down, it’s hard to get the whole track out of your head.

And it’s very easy to memorise those words because there’s only one verse, one that’s repeated a couple more times before the song finishes with a flourish. “That’s the story of my life / That’s the difference between wrong and right / But Billy said that both those words are dead / That’s the story of my life”. Very concise, very simple, great little melody alongside a swinging acoustic feel. It does the job as a song. What it all means is something that’s passed me by. Even with the limited number of words used, I’ve always kind of felt there was a lot being said. But what it is, I couldn’t tell. Thankfully, this YouTuber did a video essay all about the album – I’m linking to where they talk about ‘Story’, but the whole thing’s worth a viewing – covering the track in some depth. In a way, they highlight ‘That’s the Story…’ as being one of the most important songs on the LP as it sums up the paradox at the core of it. The difference between wrong and right, good love and bad love. I’m just typing out what they say. It would be much better if you saw it for yourself.

So yeah, that’s the story of my story with this song. Why aren’t there more songs from The Velvet Underground on this blog, you might ask. I made the decision to stop adding songs to my phone in about 2021, and it seems between 2013 and then ‘Jesus’ and this one were the only two on the album that I really, really enjoyed. I’ve got a few more from there on my Liked Songs playlist on Spotify, a streaming service that I know very few people like anymore for very understandable reasons. I’ve come to appreciate the album a lot in the past few years. Not ’cause of the whole context of the band doing a whole 180 in sound after founding member John Cale left and seemingly took the abrasive, freakier side of the music with him. I think I’ve just matured enough as a person that I can listen to each song on there and realise how good each one is. Plus, it must have influenced so many people. Anyone else hear Julian Casablancas or Stephen Malkmus throughout it all? Sounds like they got their whole style from this one project. I’m glad it exists.

#1341: Super Furry Animals – The Teacher

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Guerilla was the first Super Furry Animals album I ever checked out. One time, when I was about ten or something, I was watching MTV2 when the video for ‘Do or Die’ came on. That is the second song on Guerrilla and was released as its final single. And I thought it sounded cool. That was in 2005 or something. But life happened, and it wasn’t until seven years later that I remembered the song existed. I revisited it, it sounded as good as I remembered, and I went on to listen to the rest of the album as a result. I have this headcanon that, with the new millennium fast approaching and a little uncertainty in the wind, some artists were compelled to just do some of their most out-there work in the last couple years of the ’90s to leave a mark before the world possibly ended. You check out what albums were coming out around ’98 – ’99 and you might see what I’m saying. Well, Guerrilla always gave me that kind of feeling in that, up to that point, it was certainly their most experimental effort.

On the album, you’ll get a song in the style of calypso (‘Northern Lites’), another made to be one of those novelty hits in the charts that are a little annoying but can’t help but love (‘Wherever I Lay My Phone’), a little dip into electronic, downtempo music (‘Some Things Come from Nothing’). There’s a whole lot of variety. So when ‘The Teacher’ comes along in the album’s final legs, it kind of throws you off just because, since ‘Do or Die’ many tracks earlier, the album hasn’t offered a lot of straight rock and roll, but here it is again with ‘The Teacher’ just in case you forgot that the band could still rock out from time to time. And how well they do it too. With a melody that’s sounds very much like one you’d hear in the school playground back in the day, Gruff Rhys and co take on the perspective of a teacher who wants to quit their job, run away from home and just write songs and be in a band. Until now, I thought it was from the point of view of a young student. It could still very well be both.

Now, this track is a lot of undisputable fun. Gruff Rhys starts the track off by screaming alongside the keyboard, screaming that continues underneath the song while it’s going on, and that energy is matched and never lets up as soon as the rest of the band join in for the first verse. Someone, I think Rhys himself, sings along the main melody an octave higher. There’s generally a lot of high-pitched harmonies and vocal deliveries all around, adding to the manic hyperactivity of the proceedings, which I think is summed up in the “La-la-la-la” refrains. Slotted in between the trippy ‘Door to This House Remains Open’ and the balladry of ‘Fire in My Heart’, ‘The Teacher’ continues the eclectic mixture of styles the entire album builds its ground on. It is a straight rock-n-roller, but in the context of the album it arrives as a sort of refreshing moment. I’m all for it. Listen to Guerrilla, everybody.