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#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.

#1338: The Used – The Taste of Ink

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I had a whole paragraph set out for this post where I was going on about the mix in this song’s music video being different from how it actually sounds on the album. Had a feeling Bert McCracken’s vocal was way more upfront. It may just be down to how the audio on YouTube videos is compressed automatically upon upload. So I guess it does sound different in a way, but not incredibly. But anyway, it was through the video for The Used’s ‘The Taste of Ink’ that I got to know the tune. It was just one day I was on the computer, MTV2 was on in the background, and there was ‘The Taste of Ink’ on the TV. I wasn’t really paying attention to it, but that “Here I am / It’s in my hands” chorus kicked in. It pricked the ear, I turned around and began to pay attention to the song. I write this and it sounds like it was this sort of cliché movie moment. Im pretty sure that’s how it all went down, though. And I think by that point I was into In Love and Death, so it was cool to hear another song by the band from another period of their time together.

‘The Taste of Ink’ is the second song on the band’s self-titled debut album from 2002 and was selected to be the band’s very first single. Quite suitably too ’cause of the song’s whole statement. McCracken sings about being stuck in a deadbeat town where there’s nothing to do and where chewing the tip of a pen is a choice of activity that helps pass the time. Hence the song’s title. But he’s had enough of it all, he’s ready to get out of there and just live life, do whatever he wants to do and have a good time while doing so. It’s a strong message. If you want to get things done, it’s all up to you. And I think it acts as a little love letter to fans too, as kind of a “If you’re with us for the ride, we’re gonna give you all we have” thing. Could also be a reach out to a person he was seeing, but I’m throwing something out with that suggestion. Musically, I’ve always dig the stop-start pattern in the instruments. The guitars and drums all play each downbeat and then all-out for the choruses. Cool dynamics going on. And it’s quite funny how they start to mess around with the chord progression just as the song begins to fade out. There’s probably a radio edit that edits that part out, but it’s all essential, I think.

So I really like ‘The Taste of Ink’. Not so much that I’ve gone on to check out the whole album it’s on, though. Am I missing something from not listening to The Used? Answers on a postcard, please. I don’t think it could get much better than In Love and Death. Even then, there are tunes on there I enjoyed a whole lot more in my adolescence than I do now. Another song from that album will be featured on here one of these days. But it would be interesting to hear how the band started out. By the time I heard ‘…Ink’ for the first time, I want to say Artwork was the band’s most recent album. Maybe Vulnerable. But by then, the type of music the band were making was on a completely different path from what I would have been listening to. Their original guitarist who had a huge hand in writing the songs was kicked out. It’s a whole story. What am I trying to say here? Maybe I’ll listen to The Used, maybe I won’t. It’s not something to dwell on.

#1332: R.E.M. – Talk About the Passion

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I remember a time when I really didn’t understand what was going on with ‘Talk About the Passion’. I was going through Murmur for the first time in 2013 or something. That was a moment in my life when I was listening to music, but was trying to listen to it like some kind of critic. Looking at the words and trying to understand what they really meant. I think I was really into Pitchfork and trying to make a way into music journalism around then. ‘…Passion’ came round, and I think I had a feeling that it was being pretentious with the French lyrics. God forbid a band try and be creative with the words they use in their songs, right? Because I didn’t understand the words, I think I wrote it off and the rest of the album. I was missing something internally when I was 18. But fast-forward to the end of 2017, when I was 22, when on a whim I went through Murmur again and found myself having a new favourite album. You guys know. I’ve written about six other songs from the LP on here.

When I was early twenties, I think I’d began to just take music for what it was if I was listening to it for the first time. Taking into account the overall sounds and how they made me feel. Wasn’t a conscious thing, think it just turned out that way. And I remember Murmur making me feel really good. When it came to ‘Talk About the Passion’ that time around, as soon as the opening guitar riff played for the first time, it was like, “I’m probably going to enjoy this one too,” after having already been impressed by ‘Radio Free Europe’ and ‘Pilgrimage’. ‘Laughing’ not so much, I’ve never been able to get into that one. I think Michael Stipe’s vocals are a highlight in ‘…Passion’. His delivery of the titular phrase throughout is one with a lot of warmth and sincerity. That cello adds another dimension to the proceedings. Makes it all sound much more emphatic. And the combination of it and Stipe wailing in the distance as the song closes on a fade-out adds a sweet bow to it all. Makes sense that it was released as a single in its time, but it’s also kind of a bold pick for one as well.

I’ve always sort of thought that ‘…Passion’ was kind of a religion song. Same way I think ‘Pilgrimage’ is too. Like, talk about the passion. What passion? The passion of Christ? I guess that could work. “Empty prayers.” Prayers have to do with religion too. But apparently Michael Stipe described the song as being about hunger, which is where the “empty mouths” thing comes in. So it’s a track about people praying for food, having a intense need for it and wondering how long they have to wait until it arrives. “Combien de temps” does sound much cooler than “How long”, gotta say. Plus, it has the right number of syllables to fit in the music, so you can probably see why Stipe went with the choice of phrasing. Yeah, this is a good song right here. At least, I think so. I don’t think I can say it’s my outright favourite on Murmur. But put it on and I’ll be singing along to it. And if any song can do that to me, then it’s done its job.

#1329: The Rolling Stones – Sympathy for the Devil

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Years and years ago, back when I was going to secondary school, I’d be getting changed into my uniform with the TV going on in the background. It’d usually be on Channel 4. Whatever years that channel had the TV show According to Jim in the mornings was when I became aware of the subject of today’s post, completely by accident. In the episode, there was a scene where Jim (played by Jim Belushi, younger brother of John) is visited by an apparition of the devil, played by some actor who I think also played his friend in the show, I can’t remember, it wasn’t A-grade TV. The devil-person appears and says to Jim, “Please allow me to introduce myself…” Jim interrupts and says, “Let me guess, you’re a man of wealth and taste.” Canned audience laughter cues. And I thought, “That must be in some kind of song or something.” The line sounded very familiar. I think I Googled it, just to make sure I wasn’t making things up in my head. Surely it wasn’t an original thing the writers of that show came up with.

And the Google results proved me right. The line is the very first lyric in ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ by the Rolling Stones, the opening track on the band’s 1968 album Beggars Banquet. That particular LP marked a return to a back-to-basics blues rock approach by the band after their psychedelic turn on Their Satanic Majesties Request the previous year and began a run of studio albums up to 1972’s Exile on Main Street that many a fan see as the band at the peak of their powers. On ‘Sympathy…’, Mick Jagger sings from the point of view of Lucifer, Satan, Beelzebub, however you prefer to address the Devil, noting how he’s been around for a lot of bad things that have happened in the world up to the time the song was written. Where the ‘sympathy’ part comes in is where, you know, people will say it’s because of evil forces that these atrocities and murders and the like happen. But it’s us as humans who do it. It doesn’t happen for no reason other than human decision. I’d think this was quite the shocking song to put out there, especially in ’68. From what I’ve read, that year was a rough time.

You know, I think most listeners would point to Jagger as the highlight of the whole track just for the showy, very spirited vocal that gradually ramps up in intensity as the track goes on. I’d like to make a note on the piano in the right ear played by the most dependable session player, Nicky Hopkins. Those piano chords behind Jagger’s vocals in the opening moments are very tasty. That climbing scale behind the “man of wealth and taste” line is exquisite. And just like Jagger, he heightens that intensity when he starts thundering on the keys at the beginning of the second verse. Those train whistle-like “woo-woos” come in for the third verse, staying there for the remainder of the song and that’s when the whole track becomes a party. You just want to form a conga line to the samba atmosphere of it all, even if it’s from the perspective of the fallen angel. It’s a fine way to start the album. I’d say it doesn’t get much better than it from that point onward. But it’s always good to have a bold statement from the jump, and ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ isn’t anything but that.

Ahhhh, and that’s it. The ‘S’ section is done. That’s definitely the longest one I’ve done so far. Spent a whole year on it. I’ll be back on the ‘T’ journey sometime soon. But I need a break. I’m sure you guys understand. So take care of yourselves. Catch you on the flipside.