Tag Archives: the

#1338: The Used – The Taste of Ink

Leave a reply

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

Leave a reply

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

Leave a reply

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.

#1325: The Raconteurs – The Switch and the Spur

Leave a reply

Looks like I got some memories muddles up when recalling my experiences with The Raconteurs’ Consolers of the Lonely album. In the first post I wrote for a song on there, I specifically mention that I bought the CD myself. Then a few years later, I say I got it as a gift. “So which one is it?” I think I hear you ask. Well, I’m gonna go ahead and say it was probably the first one. The mind was fresher at 18 than it was at 27. And if that was the case, I want to say I bought it from a Woolworth’s store when those were still around. This all would have happened in 2008, very close to when the album was released. But it’s all a bit of a blur. That period in time when I was turning 13 is one that I have huge blanks on for some reason. Must have been all the hormonal changes that were happening. But I made a decision to get that album in that state, and it turned out to be a good one.

‘The Switch and the Spur’ is the fifth song on the album. When you get Consolers… up on Spotify, the first thing you’ll notice is that the number of listeners takes a considerable dip when compared to the track that comes before it. I guess the fact that ‘Old Enough’ was a single would play a part in that. But I can at least assure, ‘Switch and Spur’ is a cool track. I don’t think I’ve let you down so far with my musical recommendations. Brendan Benson takes lead vocals on the song, telling the story of an outlaw, on the run after breaking out of jail, in the setting of a Spaghetti Western. The man rides his horse through the desert, in the blistering heat, gets bitten by a snake and begins to hallucinate before eventually dying with his hands still on the reins of his four-legged companion. Then the narrative perspective changes from the third-person narrator telling the story to the first-person of, I think, the spirits of those who’ve also died in the area as they warn that whoever follows the path of the outlaw will face the same outcome. Or something along those lines. Dramatic stuff.

But the music of it all, man. Really helps in setting that tone of an old Western film of some kind. Starts off with that jubilant piano melody, that’s then mirrored by the shrill trumpet. A definite Mariachi feel that’s given off by the horns, I see a Mariachi band just playing in the desert when I hear it. Then the music gets all sneaky with the unified guitar and piano line during Benson’s verses, as he describes the scene as this outlaw rides the plains. The sections move between these two movements before, halfway through, the track suddenly doubles in tempo and the rhythms start to get a little busier. Jack White busts out a screeching solo on his guitar. There are a lot of things happening. It feels like everything’s constantly moving, pushing and pulling, you never quite know which direction the song will go. I think that’s what gets it going for me. So to stop myself from poorly describing what happens in the song from beginning to end, I’m gonna finish things here and let you listen for yourself.

#1311: Supergrass – Sun Hits the Sky

Leave a reply

“I know a place where the suuun hits the skkyyy!” A great, great opening line to a song, the song in question being Supergrass’s ‘Sun Hits the Sky’ from their second album, In It for the Money, released in 1997. I’ve made it known in many a post before that this is my favourite Supergrass album, and I want to stress again that while you all may get your Britpop fill from Oasis or Blur, Pulp or Suede, all very respectable choices, please, please don’t leave Supergrass out in the cold. You should all be listening to Supergrass. Not one dud exists in the band’s six-album discography. I’m sad that it’s more or less confirmed that they won’t make another one, even though they are kind of together at the moment to celebrate the 30th anniversary. In another way, sometimes it’s best to just let things be. I can understand that. So I’ll leave it at that too.

Anyway, ‘Sun Hits the Sky’ is the sixth song on In It for the Money, closing out the album’s first half if you were to listen to it on vinyl. I have a strong, strong feeling that I heard the song in an advert for a UK holiday resort of some kind. Maybe Butlin’s. Maybe Center Parcs. If any member of Supergrass happens to read this, could you possibly confirm whether this was the case? I would have been a small child when those “commercials” were going around. But come 2005/06 when I was a little older, and by that, I’m talking the age of 10, Supergrass videos were usually playing on the television – a whole lot of fun they’d be too – and the video for ‘Sun Hits the Sky’ showed up one day on one of those video channels. The song was immediately recognisable, but the main thing I got was that it was Supergrass who had made the song – I want to say I had gained a fair knowledge of the band by then – and that this thing called In It for the Money was something to get, because song that was shown on the TV from it was I enjoyed a heck of a lot.

So where is this place where the sun hits the sky? Well, we all know that the sky isn’t this kind of border that the sun reaches up to. It’s all really limitless. I know it’s not meant to be taken literally. In fact, I think this track is about wanting to get really, really high – more in a haze of marijuana smoke rather than a darker deal with heroin – a bit like Paul McCartney’s ode to pot with ‘Got to Get You into My Life’. When you’re in your 20s and in a band, you’re gonna be smoking joints at some point. Gaz Coombes about knowing a place where the sun hits the sky and things get all distorted and strange, and in the choruses he sings about being someone’s doctor and being on the way to prevent someone from coming down. I guess like how it’s a dealer’s job to deliver the goods to their clients. I think I’ve got this song down. Just can’t help but feel good when listening to this one, got such a driving momentum. Very, very hard not to sing along to once you’ve got the words down, and notable highlights are the keyboard solo by Rob Coombes and the psychedelic ending where tablas and bongos enter the mix and the song eventually fades out with Mick Quinn laying down some licks on the bass guitar. A big “Yes” from me for this tune.