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#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.

#1325: The Raconteurs – The Switch and the Spur

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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

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“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.

#1303: Arcade Fire – The Suburbs

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‘The Suburbs’ is the first song on the album of the same name, Arcade Fire’s third LP, released back in the summer of 2010. The lead up to this album’s release is one that I missed completely, I have to say. During that time, I was getting into The Who and seeing what their discography was all about. It was by chance that I heard ‘Ready to Start’ in an advert for the TV show Skins a month or so after the album’s release, otherwise I would’ve stayed unaware that The Suburbs was a thing that was existing. So I got to downloading it. The title track started it off, and it was a strong, strong opener. It wasn’t the orchestral, spooky, mysterious epic of an introduction that ‘Black Mirror’ was on previous album Neon Bible. ‘The Suburbs’ had a shuffling tempo, a skip in its rhythmic step, with its opening piano part sounding quite upbeat. It was warm, it was inviting. I would have been a little late to the party, but there was something very refreshing with ‘The Suburbs’ being the first thing to hear on an album after three years of waiting for a new one.

Now, ‘The Suburbs’ as a song is one that probably a lot of people out there hold very dearly. I’m not going to say it doesn’t matter that much to me. I will say I don’t think I’ve had that experience where I thought, “Man, this song really hits home,” or something to that degree. Though, I’m sure that time will come soon enough. The track is frontman Win Butler’s recollection of growing up in the suburbs with his brother Will, learning how to drive and having those dreams of what they’d do when they were old enough to leave. And then it gets to a part where he asks a higher power to provide him with a daughter or a son, to show them some beauty before the world truly turns to shit. That tugs on the heartstrings a little. You can call me out for being superficial or whatever, but what I really appreciate about the track is Win Butler’s vocal. He just sings the track really well. And if the “Sometimes I can’t believe it / I’m moving past the feeling” melodic line doesn’t ingrain itself into the memory bank, then the song just probably isn’t for you. And that’s fine. But it is such a great melody, you’ll probably find yourself singing it spontaneously.

Well, according to my phone here, it looks as if this’ll be the last Arcade Fire song I ever talk/discuss/ramble about on this blog. May come as a surprise to some, maybe not so much to others. I’ve never been the biggest Arcade Fire fan. I’ve always followed them whenever there’s a new album around the corner, particularly during that nine-year span from Funeral (2004) to Reflektor (2013) when they were the big, big indie act that it felt like everyone was waiting in anticipation for when it came to the thought of new music. I think I even gave my thoughts on ‘Reflektor’, the song, when it was very, very new at one point. Though if I was a rabid supporter like you’d probably find somewhere out there, there’d be many more songs by them on this blog. It is what it is. But the Arcade Fire songs you can find on here are a bunch that I have a huge appreciation for. So click on that ‘arcade fire’ tag and have a look through, whenever you want.

#1283: They Might Be Giants – The Statue Got Me High

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I could probably say that ‘The Statue Got Me High’ goes down as one of my favourite songs by They Might Be Giants. There was a short, very brief time when I didn’t get it that much. And that was when I was about 10 and watching the music video for the first time, on the Internet, on Yahoo’s old music service website. I don’t know what it was, there’s a lot of stuff happening in the music video and the song itself is quite busy in its structure and momentum too. I think it was all too much my little, tiny head to take in. But fast forward about five years to late 2010 when I was downloading the band’s albums and got to Apollo 18, ‘Statue’ started playing and I was into it almost immediately. I think it was the first time I’d heard the track since the attempt those years prior, but it felt like it should have been a certified favourite for all of that time.

Another TMBG track mainly written by John Linnell, ‘Statue’ is about a man who stares at a monument until his head explodes. And that’s pretty much the gist of it. There’s something about the wording of the song title that seems kinda clumsy about it. A sentence like “it got me” isn’t one you hear in everyday situations. But how Linnell sings it is where it becomes very convincing as a phrase. It’s like he’s shouting it from the highest rooftop and wants everyone to know about the situation he’s in. Or the narrator, whatever. It’s a song where I very much enjoy Linnell’s vocal performance. It’s one where he’s belting out the notes from his chest one moment and then singing in a standard baritone, sort of mirror the intensity/moments of relaxation in the music, all while maintaining these glorious melodies and recording these harmonies and backing vocals that add these layers of substance. As much as I like all the instruments behind them all, I think this song’s massive strength is in that vocal work. All so jubilant and earwormy, in general.

I want to say that I read somewhere that Linnell had a daydream depicting this scene and was inspired enough to write a song about it. Though, I may be making that up. I guess that’s how most songwriters fulfill their craft. They make up scenarios and write songs about them. But sometimes I think about how John Linnell can write songs like ‘Four of Two’ or ‘My Man’. And it’s like, yeah, maybe he just has daydreams about a person strangling themselves to death while looking at a clock, or another person suffering from spinal paralysis, and has an urge to write about them. Even the song ‘Unrelated Thing’ is about a woman daydreaming in the middle of a tremendously boring date. They’re not your typical song topics, but that’s what sets the Giants apart from nearly everyone else. And a large majority songs usually turn out good too. I just don’t know how they do it.