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#1132: The Who – The Rock

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And here we are again. Another last song from an album that’ll be written about on here, but certainly not the last you’ll see from the band. Out of the 17 songs from The Who’s Quadrophenia, I’ve talked about ten of them, with ‘The Rock’ bringing it to a total of 11. Without looking back in those posts, I’m sure that I’ve mentioned in nearly all of them how the album is my favourite of the band’s. And I guess through that sentence, I’ve done it again. But it really is fantastic though. Was a teenager myself when I first heard it, and even though the story revolves around a character whose scene was very much of its time and place, the thoughts and feelings expressed in the lyrics are pretty much universal. Plus, the music’s top-notch. ‘The Rock’ arrives as the album’s penultimate track and the second instrumental song on there after the title track which appears earlier.

I prefer ‘The Rock’ to the ‘Quadrophenia’ song and always have done. They do almost mirror each other in terms of their structure, but the former comes at a climactic point in the album’s story, and as a result the music was made to be that little more intense. It’s here that the album’s protagonist Jimmy steals a boat and uses it to sail to a rock overlooking the sea, which is the rock referred to in the title, acting as the transitional piece between him having an almighty drug-fuelled rampage in ‘Doctor Jimmy’ and screaming for salvation in the album’s final track. Utilising the four musical themes established in the album that represent the individual members of the band, the instrumental is split into four/five sections. I’m telling you, it’s better to listen to than to read about, so maybe I won’t go through them all. Leave it to you to discover.

The best one however is clearly the ‘Helpless Dancer’ section that begins at 2:45, with Townshend’s guitar mirroring the vocal melody of that song while Keith Moon thrashes some serious thundering drum rolls on top. The vocoder-affected ‘Love Reign o’er Me’ refrain that pops in near the end is quite neat too. The track finishes with an explosive crash and the sound of thunder and rain, leading perfectly into the record’s closer. What amazed me, when the deluxe edition of the album was reissued in 2011, was finding out that the final version of the track was essentially ripped straight from Pete Townshend’s demo recording of it with John Entwistle and Keith Moon adding their respective bass guitar and drums on top. I don’t know, it just floored me. Goes to show that Townshend really was on something during the making of the record. And to think it’s not in the 1001 Albums You Must Hear book I have. Doesn’t make any sense to me.

#1125: Ween – Right to the ways and the rules of the world

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Maybe the best way to listen to The Pod is through the way its broken up on its vinyl releases. Split up into four sides, having the time to digest one of those at a time with some breaks in between would probably allow a new listener to at least digest the 15-20 minutes that each side of vinyl provides. I didn’t do this. When I was fully on my Ween exploration in 2015, I dove headfirst into the album on Spotify and listened to it the whole way through. All 76 minutes. That first time was a slog. I don’t know if you know, but the album is known for having extremely shitty production, even though a lot of the songs are classics. At least to us Ween fans, anyway. ‘Right to the ways and the rules of the world’ is only the seventh track on there. On that first listen, it felt like I’d been listening to the album for much longer than when the song arrived. And it also felt like it went on for a lot more than the mere five minutes it lasts for.

Now of course I’m used to it all. The track is a slow, slow one though. Coming after the little non-song of ‘Pollo Asado’ (a very popular one for Ween people), ‘Right…’ is what I believe to be a mimic of those old, melodramatic ’70s progressive rock songs by bands who would write about things like folklore or traditions of the past… myths and legends and the like. Gene and Dean Ween take on this melodramatic route, singing about nothing but a bunch of silliness – brilliant imagery though, gotta be said – all of which is crowned by the aloof harmonies that recite the song’s title phrase. “Monsters that trinkle like cats in the night/The cosmic conceiver continues his plight.” Those are just the first couple of lines.

The screeching organ that blares throughout is the melodic linchpin throughout the song, really hammering home that sort of medieval type of sound that I think the song’s going for. Something of a vocal chameleon, Gene Ween puts in another captivating performance. Increasing in intensity throughout, it culminates in the final verse where he lets out a shriek and then falls into a fit of laughter as the instrumental continues. Some people may argue that the song takes some momentum out of the album’s proceedings. Whatever “momentum” that may be, going through this album can feel like being in a state of purgatory sometimes. It’s just as essential as any other track on there, I feel. The production is so murky, you could almost choke on it. But the song at the core of it stands strong.

#1120: Supergrass – The Return of…

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It’s been a long while since I’ve written about a song from Supergrass’s Diamond Hoo Ha. In fact, the two songs I wrote about from that album, I don’t even like that much anymore. Been that way for a while. Supergrass are one of my favourite bands, hands-down, no question, though I have to say that the record – their final release before initially splitting up – is my least favourite of theirs. The songs aren’t bad, but they pale in comparison to almost everything the band provided in the years before. There’s something about its production that’s always never felt right to me. To a lesser extent, it just reminds me that we’ll never get another full-length release by the band again.

All right, so I may have said the songs “pale” just a few sentences ago. But there is one that shines amongst them. The track is ‘The Return of…’, the sixth song on there, closing out Hoo Ha’s first half, and I’ll state sincerely that it may be one of the best in Supergrass’s entire catalogue. This was my third most-played song on Spotify last year. I don’t know why the realization of its greatness happened so many years on, because I owned a physical copy of the album from its year of release. Sixteen years ago. Its “return of inspiration” chorus was one that had remained in my head for some time. But it may have only been a couple of years ago where I was sitting down, listened to the whole song with some good headphones, and thought, “Wow. This song is actually really good. What the hell?”

A production trick I do appreciate on here is how particular elements of the track are separated into the two channels. In the left ear, you have the drums and the rhythm guitar. In the right, you have the lead guitar playing the main riff. In the middle is Gaz Coombes’s vocals, the bass guitar and keyboards. So with whichever earbud/headphone you’re listening to the track with, you can get two separate experiences. That’s cool. In terms of mood and lyrics, the track’s a cheery, optimistic number. The narrator here is a nothing-can-get-me-down type of person, who’s never phased by unpleasant news in the papers or on the TV, by the unpleasant people they encounter, or even when they sustain an injury caused by falling down the stairs. An enchanting, dreamy chorus ties the verses altogether and it features a screeching saxophone solo in the brought-down instrumental break, which goes all crazy once Coombes starts singing again. It’s all fantastic. I should have known this for at least 15 years. But better late than never.

#1100: Eminem – The Real Slim Shady

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If you were to start going through this series from the very first post and up to here, you’d think that the only hip-hop artists I listen to on the regular are Eminem and Kanye West. Not that there’s anything wrong with this. They’re both two of the best to ever do it in the genre. But, you know… I’d like to think I have a varied taste now. I wasn’t able to write the posts in time, is all. I started this blog when I was 17, and at that age, in my eyes, Eminem and Kanye were the best ever and no one could beat them. Times have passed, and their flaws – musically speaking – have become apparent to see as the years roll on. But their classic songs are still classics, including this one right here, which everyone knows and is still one of Eminem’s most popular tracks almost 25 years after its release.

‘The Real Slim Shady’ was the first single to be released from Eminem’s second major-label album, The Marshall Mathers LP. It had only been just over a year since the rapper blessed everyone’s screens with ‘My Name Is’, introducing the world to Slim Shady and the persona’s wild, wild antics. Now Em was back, laughing at the chaos left in his wake and making his mark again as a labelled misogynist and advocate of domestic violence (taken from Wikipedia, I’m sorry), being the White man succeeding in a Black man’s game and ultimately poking fun at the imitators who had made themselves present in the aftermath of his success. It’s a mixture of silliness and seriousness as Eminem criticises vapid boy/girl pop groups, journalists and critics and the general public. He also cusses out Will Smith in one of the funniest diss lines to be put to paper.

I was five when all of this was happening, so I didn’t really grasp Eminem’s magnitude at the time. To me, he would just pop up with his new singles every time a new album was coming around. I wanna say I do remember watching that VMA performance of the song where he got hundreds of lookalikes to stand menacingly as he rapped through the track. ‘The Real Slim Shady’ doesn’t have that much a personal connection with me, but it’s always just been there existing almost as long as I’ve been around, and it’s damn good. Does it sound a bit dated? Sure. I mean, those cultural references in the lyrics aren’t anything but stuck in the late ’90s/2000 dead-on. But once Eminem gets to rapping, I never get that feeling to skip it.

#1099: The Who – The Real Me

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Goodness, the amount of times I’ve written about songs from The Who’s Quadrophenia on here. One of the most represented albums on this blog. But I can’t say anything else apart from it’s just that good. To me, anyway. Anyone who’s been reading these for the longest time will know how I feel about that record. There’s only one more song to be covered here, I swear, just if you were getting sick of all the Quadrophenia coverage. That should be coming relatively soon too, if you’re thinking about what track it could possibly be. Then that’ll be it. No more. Until then, though, I have to make some notes on the album’s outright introduction (following its opening overture) of ‘The Real Me’ where we’re introduced to the story’s main character, Jimmy, and all of his problems.

The premise of Quadrophenia is that this central character suffers from a multiple-personality disorder, four personalities which each possess characteristics of the four Who members, who’s trying to deal with this alongside handling familial and sexual relationships, and battling with his identity as a Mod of the 1960s. ‘The Real Me’ spells out to the listener that this narrator is not all that right, and we follow his journey for initial help as he asks his doctor, his mother and, finally, a preacher for any solution, to get to the bottom of what exactly is going on in his head. His questions are left unanswered by the end of it all, leaving the narrator with just a tad of unresolved confusion, leading into the album’s instrumental title track.

‘The Real Me’ hits right out of the gate, with aggressive guitar chords from Pete Townshend, a bustling drum pattern from Keith Moon, and an off-the-wall bass guitar performance by John Entwistle that he knocked out in the first take. Quoted that he was was only “joking around” when doing it, he certainly puts a different spin on laying a bass line under a song in the fact that it doesn’t really match a chord progression or follow any melodic element within the song. It’s truly a beast in itself. Very sure you can hear his fingers smacking the strings around 2:10 too. And plus, he’s also on those blasting horns that come through on the choruses too. The Who didn’t have splash out on those brass bands, Entwistle always had those covered. Daltrey’s trademark growling vocals have become even more pronounced following their last effort with Who’s Next, and I can always try and match the anger, the grit and overall attitude when I attempt to sing along myself. I even try to replicate that voice break on the final “Can you SeE the real me” before he roars out that “mother”at the end of the track. Suffice to say, it doesn’t end so well for me. If there’s another album opener that’s as full-throttle as this, I like to be pointed to its way. This one would take a beating.