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#912: Beck – The New Pollution

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‘The New Pollution’ goes in that list of songs that I don’t have much of a deep association to. Didn’t appear at some crucial stage of my adolescence or any significant moment during my life. I may have seen the video for it on MTV2 one time and forgotten about it. But then I went and listened to Odelay once upon a time and couldn’t shake off its catchiness from then on. Bit unremarkable, I realise. But man, this song funks a large amount. Great groove. Couldn’t even try and come to a full understanding of what Beck’s talking about, but that goes for almost every track he wrote in the Odelay era.

In the track, Beck goes through a list of possessions and actions that a mysterious lady owns and carries out in her life. Very surreal things that definitely let a listener’s imagination run wild. Possessions include: A carburetor tied to the moon, a hand on a wheel of pain, a cigarette on each arm and a paradise camouflage. She’s able to sleep in a fiery bog while throwing troubles to the dying embers, among other things. And summing it all up comes the track’s refrain: “She’s alone in the new pollution.” What does that mean? To put it simple, I think it’s a way of saying she’s just another strange, strange girl living in a strange, strange world.

I enjoy the general loopiness of the whole track. So many elements are repeated endlessly from start to finish, I’m very sure the rhythm section rarely changes if at all. Or when instruments or new melodies are introduced, they come in for about four bars before dipping out again. Like that smooth saxophone that comes in at various points. The ‘doo-doo’ introduction is an earworm in itself. Reminds me of a loading menu in a game or something alongside those weird pinging noises and explosion-like sounds. A big nod goes out to the Dust Brothers production team who assisted on the making of the instrumentals throughout the album. They didn’t have to go as hard as they did. The video’s cool too. Going for a swinging-60s vibe. Far out, man.

#898: Billy Talent – The Navy Song

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Recalling exactly how I was introduced to this song is a bit of a pointless task. I could only give vague and hazy mental images. I want to say that leading up to the release of Billy Talent’s second album, they uploaded 30 second samples of their new song onto their website which gave everyone a taste of what was to come. But I have the feeling that’s me wanting to remember something that didn’t happen at all. It doesn’t really matter. The point is, I got that album for Christmas 2006 and it’s been a mainstay on every mp3 player I’ve owned, the family computer, my laptop… I gave away a lot of my old CDs recently, but I couldn’t find it within me to give away my copies of the band’s first two albums. They’re just too good.

So, I would have been 11 years old when I first heard ‘The Navy Song’. Couldn’t tell you how 11-year-old me felt upon that first listen. But from my 26-year-old point of view, I remember that I was a huge fan of Ian D’Sa’s guitar playing. How he could make one guitar sound like two separate guitars playing at the same time. And that aspect of his style is on show here. Just that introduction alone draws me in every time, with that sort of skipping momentum while it plays the melody of the chorus that shows up later in the song. He never plays just one chord for four bars, or a standard 4 chord progression that runs throughout a track. He has guitar lines and progressions that can rise and fall while incorporating a lot of melody. His playing is something that always gets me bugging out when listening to Billy Talent songs. No exception here. Plus, the track is carried by this great swinging 12/8 rhythm, which I’ve always thought was meant to mirror the swaying of the ship on the waves of the sea. Not sure if that was the purpose, but for that I always thought the music matched the lyric matter perfectly.

And what the track is about is kinda sad. The track’s narrator’s gone to war, presumably for the navy, and is remembering their loved ones back home, while fully aware that they may never return. It’s pretty much confirmed in the bridge(?) that they do in fact die, and ‘wait in heaven’ until they meet again with their partner. Pretty brutal. But in a wider degree, I think it’s a song dedicated to those real navy soldiers who are putting their lives on the line and are very much in the same situation as the narrative voice in this track. It’s a heavy reminder that people die out there, and it’s not something to take lightly. It does make for some good listening though, I gotta say. Sometimes you think of some of the music you were into when you were 11 and think, “What was that all about?” And then there are those gems that stick with you for 15 years and counting. Funny thing, music is.

#868: Beastie Boys – The Move

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Some time in 2018, I went through the discography of Beastie Boys through Spotify while at work. It was the type of place where no one really looked at what you were doing, pretty much as long as you showed up. But I did it. One album each day, though I think I skipped The Mix-Up. All I can say is when it comes to a Beastie Boys album, you never know what you can get because the three members (MCA, Ad-Rock and Mike D) decided quite soon that they would make anything they wanted when making a record. Hard rock, dub, slow acoustic jams, those were always on there. But what they excelled at was hip-hop and their raps, bouncing off each others words with excitement and enthusiasm.

Their 1998 album Hello Nasty starts off too strongly. First comes ‘Super Disco Breakin” which’ll get its own post way later, and then the second punch arrives with ‘The Move’. The title phrase isn’t mentioned in the lyrics, or in any verse rhymed by a member, but I’d like to think it’s called as such because this track doesn’t stick to one beat. For a good chunk, it’s straight boom-bap, then a harpsichord comes in for a brief moment, the boom-bap starts again, then the beat changes into one led by this double bass groove, followed by a lengthy period where the last few words uttered by the three echo into the distance that unexpectedly turns into an interlude of ‘El Rey y Yo’ by Los Angeles Negros. You can’t say it’s not entertaining. All in three and a half minutes.

Overall, the track is yet another braggadocious offering by the trio. The Beastie Boys were back, it had been four years since their last album at that point, and they’re just as good as ever. There was never any need to doubt them. Some one-liners that always stick to me when listening: “I’m intercontinental when I eat French toast”, “Dogs love me ’cause I’m crazy sniffable”, and I particularly like the delivery on “‘Cause I’m that fool that broke the kEeEy”. Always brings a smile. There’s also a small part where the three exchange syllables in one line, which I never even properly realized until I saw a YouTuber’s reaction to this the other day. Good, good track. Fair to say that it’s overlooked in the Beasties catalogue? I would say yes.

#863: Brakes – The Most Fun

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Brighton-based band Brakes’ first album Give Blood is funny in a way. It contains songs where they suddenly end, just when you were properly getting into their rhythm, or when they’re about to hit some sort of climax. ‘The Most Fun’ is one of them. It’s only a minute and a half, made up of two chords with no choruses or bridges. More one long verse with some periods where there’s no singing for a few seconds.

Vocalist Eamon Hamilton, backed by Matt Eaton (a member of fellow Brighton band Actress Hands), harmonise about the time the gypsies came to town and gave everybody a weekend to remember. Before then, they were just country boys doing usual country boy shit, I guess. But then the gypsie came. They put up a tent, invited everyone in, and it’s fair to say judging by the track’s last few lines that they all had a great time. And after the reveal that nothing was ever the same after those nights, the song ends and the band launch right into the following track. Those first few tracks really keep the album rolling along quite swiftly.

So there’s not much else to say about this one. The first few times I heard it, I did think it sounded more like an interlude more than anything else. But then I started to appreciate the gradual swell and increasing intensity of the music underneath the lyrics, and the almost droning effect that the guitars and vocals brought when combined together. It’s also a very relatable set of lyrics. It’s a nice one. Yeah, it’s short, but it really says all it has to in its time.

#855: Queens of the Stone Age – Monsters in the Parasol

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‘Monsters in the Parasol’ wasn’t an official single from Queens of the Stone Age’s Rated R album back around the time when it was released. But it has it’s own proper music video in which its protagonist on a mission, walking through the streets of what I guess is Los Angeles, to beat up some kids who’ve stolen a puppy and return it to its rightful owner. And to buy some new shoes while they’re at it. I’ll assume it was a promotional single of some kind. Whatever the reason a video was made for it is doesn’t really matter. What does is that it was one of the few Queens videos that would randomly show on MTV2 back in the old times of the mid-2000s. That’s how I came to know it.

The track was inspired by Josh Homme’s first experience with LSD, and its lyrics are just a description of the things he witnessed while high on the drug. There was real sister of Paul’s who Homme was attracted to, but when he saw her acid-tinted eyes she looked like an alien. The walls were closing in, things started to grow hair, and Paul’s dad seemed to be warped and bubbling. There’s nothing to look into very deeply with this one, it’s all from a personal experience. And it’s all surreal, which is to be expected when discussing the typical hallucinogen. There’s a lot of things I like about this one. It has a driving momentum; once it starts it never really slows down or loses its flow. And the track is also filled with these memorable riffs in each section, that catchy hook during the “she won’t grow parts”, those cathartic hits after the “covered in hair” mentions, and those freaky guitar hooks in both channels during the choruses. There’s a lot of creepy whispering in there too. All those little things elevate the song in my ears.

Many may not know, but the song was actually released a few years earlier under the name ‘Monster in the Parasol’ on Volume 4 of The Desert Sessions, another musical collaboration-type deal that’s mainly ran by Josh Homme. In its original form, the track’s a lot lighter. There’s not as much force on there as the album version. Homme sings like he’s trying not to wake someone up, he doesn’t sound as weirded out as he would do on the later version. With that being said, it certainly another great take of the track. Plus, you can properly hear what those whispers are saying here.