Tag Archives: through

#1369: Kanye West – Through the Wire

I remember ‘Through the Wire’ being a single when it first came around in those halcyon days of 2003. Its music video was playing somewhere, and little notifications popped up covering how Kanye West was in a car accident where he almost died, but didn’t, and had to have his jaw wired shut. Whoever was running those notes made it very clear that he hadn’t passed away, he was very much alive. But eight-year-old me didn’t get the picture. Aaliyah had died a couple years earlier, and the video for ‘More Than a Woman’ came out posthumously. I don’t think I’d got over that and was convinced that ‘Through the Wire’ was that type of deal. But then 2004 came around, videos from The College Dropout were dropping for ‘All Falls Down’, ‘The New Workout Plan’ and others. I slowly but surely became convinced that Kanye West might not have actually died after all. My sister got The College Dropout, either as a gift or by her own actions, and there’s many a memory I have of hearing its music around the house during those days.

So, ‘Through the Wire’. What could I say about it that isn’t covered in its Wikipedia page, really? It was Kanye West’s debut single, properly introducing the world to the man if they hadn’t paid attention to the production credits he’d racked up to that point. It’s the song he initially recorded vocals for with his jaw wired shut while he was recovering from the near-fatal crash he experienced when he had fallen asleep at the wheel of his car. When the song first came around, I didn’t think his voice didn’t sound all that bad considering his situation. It turned out he had just re-recorded the vocal when his jaws were free again. The original recording shows how much he could really only mumble in the state his face was in. So, as he says, he was very much delivering his message through the wires. Plus, it heavily samples Chaka Khan’s ‘Through the Fire’, with Khan’s vocals pitched-up to the maximum, a standard in the “chipmunk soul” West brought to the mainstream during that period. Chaka Khan says she didn’t like what West did to her voice. She also performed her song live alongside him at the VMAs. Who knows how she feels? All I can tell you for certain is that I like it, if it wasn’t clear.

I listened to this song again yesterday, just to gear myself up and gain some thoughts on what I wanted to write. I only just realised that at about 1:40 in the song, whoever’s playing the bass guitar plays a bum note before carrying on. It’s hard not to notice it now. But that miniscule detail can’t detract from the overall result. ‘Through the Wire’ is a classic tale of the phoenix rising from the ashes, with West humorously recounting his experiences of the crash, the aftermath and his experience in the hospital. “The doctor said I had blood clots / But I ain’t Jamaican, man”. I’ve always liked that lyric. It’s simple, but it does the job. I could go through the track line-by-line, but there’s no fun in that. And there are websites available for that purpose anyway. Generally, it’s a track like this that makes me miss how Kanye West used to be. He poked fun at that kind of sentiment in 2016. But in these times, it rings truer than ever. The Life of Pablo was his last album, though, wasn’t it? Can’t remember him releasing anything else afterwards.

#1187: The Beatles – She Came in Through the Bathroom Window

Well, this track comes as a bit of a weird one to talk about. It’s The Beatles. ‘She Came in Through the Bathroom Window’ is from Abbey Road. Everyone likes that album. When I think about it, it’s not the one I return to when I want to hear a Beatles album in full. That would probably go to Revolver or Rubber Soul or something. But I won’t argue that it has some of the band’s best songs on there. ‘She Came in…’ is a part of the medley that makes up the majority of Abbey Road‘s second half, kinda closing out its first part, and was performed in one take alongside ‘Polythene Pam’ whose closing solo segues right into the introduction.

For the longest time I looked at the medley with a bit of a side-eye. Blasphemous to say, I know. This was the masterstroke that marked the ending of the Beatles’ recording career. But seeing as it was made up of tunes that John Lennon and Paul McCartney had in the can going back to 1968, the album was released in Autumn 1969, I used to see it as the guys sort of scraping the bottom of the barrel for material and shmushing them together. Although I appreciate it a lot more these days, I do usually have that feeling lurking in the back of my mind. As a result, I like some of the parts more than the whole. And I can’t say that I have a deep, deep connection with this particular tune other than I found myself singing it to myself whenever I was out shopping or in the shower. If I was singing it in those situations, that probably means I’ve liked it somewhere along the line.

‘She Came in…’ was inspired by a real-life incident where a fan broke into Paul McCartney’s London home, literally through the bathroom window while he was out. The parts about being ‘protected by a silver spoon’ and sucking her thumb ‘by the banks of her own lagoon’ I have no idea about. Only McCartney could tell you if he asked him. But being a grandmaster of melody that he is, he makes the whole two minutes the song goes on for sound rather good. I guess he just let his imagination run wild about this particular person, wondering what she does as a job and what her aspirations may be. It’s all a bit up in the air, this one, regarding the lyrics. But regarding the harmonies, the backing vocals, Harrison’s guitar licks, the sort of half-time tempo McCartney’s bass takes for the second verse. That’s all good, good stuff. One of my highlights out of the so-called ‘Long One’.

#1181: R.E.M. – Shaking Through

The “How I Came to Know and Love Murmur” story is one I’ve told many a time in the past. It’s probably written in every post for the songs I’ve talked about from there so far. Written one way or another, the point remains the same. It’s the trouble when an album and nearly all the tracks click with you immediately. If you’re gonna write a blog about them like me, the origin stories between songs aren’t going to vary by any wide margin. So “I heard the album in one go and it was immediately a favourite” is the best you can get out of me. It’ll be the same for ‘Sitting Still’ when that comes around, which will be sooner than you think.

I’m very sure the album’s tenth song, ‘Shaking Through’, was another one that I understood – in terms of feeling, gauging the lyrics not so much – on the first try. The track is tremendously upbeat and carries on a musical theme on the album that consists of holding back on providing the chorus, just for a little while to get another verse in, so that when it eventually hits it comes as this cathartic release. And that release is matched by the belted-out melody of the chorus lyric. “Shaking through/Opportune”. Not sure what it means. This whole period of R.E.M. was Michael Stipe coming up with anything on the spot, whether it made sense or not. But kinda just looking over them, I’ve come to see the track as a celebration of good things to come. One of hope, optimism and opportunity. I just get that sense about it.

Well, I guess that’s all I’ve got to say about the track, really. I guess I’ll just list a few things about the track that perk my ears. Bill Berry switches from striking the hi-hat to striking the ride cymbal during the choruses. That’s something. Usually drummers would just decide to stick to one or the other. Not him, though. The “in my life” bridge where Stipe’s then joined in by a bunch of overlapping vocals is goosebump-inducing. Everyone likes a key change, especially when it’s done right, and it is done so for the song’s final-final chorus. And just when you think it’s over, there’s an unrelated looping instrumental that brings the song to a proper close. The band always liked instrumentals on their albums, didn’t they? ‘Shaking Through’ was recorded for the Chronic Town EP that preceded Murmur in 1982, but left off. The ‘lyrics’ aren’t as fleshed out. I don’t think it’s as good as how it eventually turned out. But the feeling is still all there.

#597: The Beatles – I’m Looking Through You

Rubber Soul was The Beatles’ sixth album overall; it was also the second of two albums by the group released in 1965 with Help! arriving in stores only a few months earlier. Rubber is usually seen as the point where the four lads deviated from their love-centric light-hearted pop hits and began making music that required attentive listening. Their aim was to make an album which flowed, had direction, and where all songs that were listed were important to its structure. They succeeded. This was the look of a band with confidence.

Another Beatles song beginning with “I” or “I’m”, ‘I’m Looking Through You’ is the tenth track on Rubber Soul. Paul McCartney wrote it. It seems that he was going through some relationship troubles during this time in The Beatles. He and Jane Asher had been an item since 1963. She was a successful actress in her own right though McCartney wished she was at home a lot more of the time. During the making of Rubber, he wrote this track, ‘We Can Work It Out’, and ‘You Won’t See Me’ – all of which were about his frustration with the whole situation.

Out of the three, ‘I’m Looking Through You’ is the most brisk. It’s very acoustic driven and moved by some knee-slapping percussion and active bass playing. I think it’s notable that it mirrors ‘You Won’t See Me’ in that both tracks concern a sense of disappearance. Musically, you can say it’s upbeat. Has a major key throughout, the somewhat jubilant electric guitar lead and keyboard vamps in the instrumental breaks add to its somewhat cheerful demeanour. The lyrics are a real downer though. Another case of ‘happy music with sad lyrics’ in the musical history books. Sorry to just dismiss it as that. It is that dynamic between the music and lyrics that make it another thoroughly enjoyable song in the Beatles catalogue. You can’t go wrong with Rubber Soul.

Below is another take of the track that was worked on but ultimately discarded. It’s a lot slower but still has the same emotional impact.