Tag Archives: time

#1147: Hot Hot Heat – Running Out of Time

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Hot Hot Heat were one of the first bands I witnessed when I was really getting into rock music, thanks to the video for ‘Bandages’ being played in the morning one day on MTV2. Not too far from that point, the group came back with their second album Elevator, promoted by singles ‘Goodnight Goodnight’ and ‘Middle of Nowhere’. Both fine, fine songs. And it was those two, along with ‘Island of the Honest Man’, that gave me the urge to download the album years later. This is all a very roundabout way of saying this is how I came to know today’s song ‘Running Out of Time’, which is the first proper track on Elevator following a short little introduction that opens the album.

It’s a slamming start to the track that greets the listener, putting things into high gear before Steve Bays goes in observation mode and dedicates his verses to a bunch of kooky characters. In order of appearance, he sings about: himself, an art history dropout, a screenplay player co-writing a screenplay (a lyric which I’ve never fully realised how clunky it is till now), a Hollywood waiter and a retired ball player. They’re all going through their own situations, all of which seem to freak Bays out in a way and lead him to the conclusion that he’s ‘running out of time’. Maybe these characters are reminding him of his age or something. But he would have been relatively young while writing the lyrics. I don’t know. It’s a guess. I could understand someone not liking Bays’ style of singing. I read the lyrics online and wonder if they’re the words that are actually being said. But he has enough power and melody in his delivery that it wins me over anyway. And also Dante DeCaro’s guitar fills throughout add a little extra eccentricity to the action. It’s all very good stuff.

I’d gotten used to fact that Hot Hot Heat were no longer a band. The Canadian group hadn’t been a functioning unit since 2016, I believe. They released a final self-titled album, called it a day, and that was that. So it was strange to me when maybe a couple weeks ago I read that the band had split up again. Again? When did they reunite? Apparently in November last year. They released a new song and everything, which I completely missed. But the comeback didn’t last long, as vocalist Steve Bays felt he “couldn’t participate”. A fair enough reason not to do something, I guess. There’s probably something more behind that statement, but also probably best not to probe.

#1004: Blur – Out of Time

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The beginning of the new millennium was a weird one for Blur. They were all over the ’90s. The band’s singles and albums were a mainstay in the charts, and that whole Battle of Britpop thing with Oasis happened. But then that decade ended, they were all sort of dishevelled and in their ’30s. The band members weren’t sure which direction to go in. The band released a ‘Best of’ compilation (with great artwork), released a new single, and did some promo appearances. Search up ‘Blur 2000’ on YouTube, and it’s a bit of a trip. Kinda strange seeing the band performing ‘Girls & Boys’ with Gorillaz very much around the corner. By 2001, it was all about ‘Clint Eastwood’ and Gorillaz shot off into the stratosphere.

Couple years later, Blur got back together. Much to Damon Albarn’s hesitance as he stated in the No Distance Left to Run documentary. Graham Coxon left the band because of miscommunication, his own problems with alcohol and some strange handling by their manager. Blur continued as a three-piece. ‘Out of Time’ was the first taste of this new lineup as the first single from the then upcoming album Think Tank in 2003. I was eight years old at the time, I didn’t have a clue who Blur was. I didn’t hear Think Tank until 2013, going through Blur’s discography. I wonder how people must have felt hearing the track upon its initial release. It’s such a lowkey, very minimal track to choose as a first single. It does have a breezy groove, the percussion’s light and very tasteful. The thing that blows me away every time I hear it is Albarn’s vocal. Just so pure, clear and sincere, could bring a tear to your eye.

Released at the beginning of the Iraq War, the track asks the question of where civilisation is going with all the madness that was going on, stating that humanity was forgetting how beautiful life can be and that we may have gone too far into the deep end to recover from the devastation. That specific war’s over, but things aren’t going so well these days for anyone, so I think the song’s message still has as much poignancy now as it did then. You may across comments that harp on Think Tank because of how unlike Blur it sounds. To be fair, those may be justified. Coxon did play a massive part in the band’s sound. But this track came out of it, so I don’t complain too much. Contains a couple great ones that I’ll never be able to post about, and a few more that I will.

#986: Daft Punk – One More Time

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There’s a clip of a 5/6-year-old me watching Daft Punk’s ‘One More Time’ video just for a moment on Top of the Pops, all the way back in 2001. It might just be a figment of my imagination, but I’m quite sure that it happened. But I wouldn’t have understood what was with all the blue people or why the music video was a cartoon. All the videos I’d seen at that point had people in them. The song reached number two in the charts over here in the UK. But between 2001-2010, I had honestly forgotten that the song had existed until one of my schoolmates spontaneously started singing it in between classes. That act alone reminded me how much of an earworm it was. It was like it had been my favourite song for all those forgotten years. Wasn’t too long that I downloaded Discovery and reaped all the benefits.

‘One More Time’ opens that album. Fair to say, it might just be one of the best album openers to ever exist. Set to chopped up horns and a rhythm section sampled from Eddie Johns’ ‘More Spell on You’, the track is a five-and-a-half celebration of dance and music and a call for people to let loose just once more before letting things come to an end. The beat is repetitive. The lyrics, written and performed by Romanthony, are also recycled on and on. Almost like a skipping record. But the message has to be said clearly for all to hear. We have to celebrate. Don’t stop the dancing. And we can’t stop, because they both make everyone feel so free. A lot of “yeahs” and “come ons” and “all rights” added into the mix, and Romanthony and Daft Punk provide us with a universal hit.

I think the best part about the track, though, is that it isn’t all four-on-the-floor thumping for the duration it lasts for. Things get all spacey around the two-minute mark, where almost all the instruments drop out and leave a soothing synthesizer to play a relaxing chord progression behind Romanthony’s auto-tuned vocals. Brings a huge sense of calm and serenity amongst the partying madness. But of course it can’t last forever, as those horns rise up in the mix again and the good times start all over again. Gotta appreciate Romanthony’s vocals in general. It seems that the vocal take is something of a cut-and-paste job where he sang each phrase individually, which were then sorted into a flowing lyrical piece where each phrase segues into the next. And that’s not to put it down, the technique is awesome. Yes, he’s auto-tuned to oblivion, but for great effect rather than masking a bad vocalist. The result deserves a great chef’s kiss. 20+ years and this track still sounds massive.

#984: John Lennon – One Day (At a Time)

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Just a note to take into account before you read this. This track isn’t actually six minutes and 36 seconds long. There are two versions of this song in it, but I’m really only talking about the first 3 minutes in there or so. If you want to carry on listening after, that’s up to you. Cool. That’s out of the way.*

When I was really getting into the Beatles at the beginning of the tail-end of the 00s, I came across this project online called Everyday Chemistry. The website where you could download it provided the backstory. This was an album created in a parallel universe where the Beatles never broke up in 1970 that somehow made its way to our planet. Quite the way to get people interested. Really, it’s just a mashup album created by a fan using solo Beatles work. In the vein of the official Beatles LOVE record. And it wasn’t actually bad. In fact, it was this project that got me thinking about listening to the Beatles solo projects and songs. One track on there that struck my ear immediately was ‘Anybody Else’, which was a mashup of McCartney’s track ‘Somedays’, Ringo Starr’s ‘Monkey See – Monkey Do’, and an alternate take of John Lennon’s ‘One Day (At a Time)’ taken from the 1998 Anthology compilation. The latter was the anchor of this song, providing the bassline and what is essentially the main riff. So it only made sense to seek out the original and see what was going on.

‘One Day (At a Time)’ was written and recorded during a period when John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s marriage was on the rocks, just before they properly separated and Lennon went on an 18-month bender in Los Angeles. I feel the track is meant to act as something of a statement from Lennon to Ono as to why they should stay together. With he being the fish to her sea, the bee to her honey and so on and so forth, he feels they’re two people who complete each other. Any trouble arises then taking things day by day should be the way to right any wrongs. As mentioned before, that route didn’t work out. But man, this track makes for some truly comfortable listening. Probably the coziest recording Lennon ever made. This is bare bones, made up of Lennon’s cool vocal, a keyboard, bass guitar and drums played with brushes rather than sticks, and a twinkling guitar that provides a backdrop during the verses. It’s like the the musicians are playing right in front of you in this dark lounge, smoke in the room, people wearing shades. It’s magic stuff. So relaxing, so warm. You listen to those first three minutes up there. You’d think that take could have been on an official album, right?

Well, wrong. With some advice on Ono’s part to sing the vocal in a falsetto range, and the addition of backing vocalists and maybe a steel pedal guitar, the track was released in its ‘final form’ on Lennon’s Mind Games album in 1973. I don’t like this version as much. Not a lot, to be honest. With the alternate Anthology take, Lennon singing in his natural range provided so much more sincerity, in my opinion. The decision to go falsetto on the album doesn’t sit right with me. I guess by doing so he’s meant to sound like some innocent child or something. Maybe meant so sound more vulnerable? I don’t know. To me it comes off as if he’s making fun of the entire thing. Considering it was Ono’s idea, he probably didn’t want to do it that way. Think the backing singers and the added instrumentation is a bit extra too. But hey, that’s just me. I’ll stick to the Anthology. Listen to the album version for yourself and decide.

*06/10/24 – This was written at a point where the original video was completely different. Now, with the Mind Games reissue, the actual version I prefer is up.

#659: Manic Street Preachers – Jackie Collins Existential Question Time

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Hello there. Your favourite series is back, this time covering the Js, coming to you every other day until those songs are done. There aren’t a lot of songs I have on my phone beginning with ‘J’. It’s one of those letters that don’t really appear quite frequently at the start of a word. The songs to come are great though. At least I think so. I’ve been okay if you wanted to know. Been learning to drive and steadily getting there. That’s about it. On to the song!

‘Jackie Collins….’ was the first single from their 2009 album Journal for Plague Lovers. Well… it wasn’t really a single. No track from that album was. Nicky Wire joked that just the titles alone for some of the tracks on there didn’t really make them suitable for a commercial release. Though it was this one that made it known that there was a new album on its way. It’s one of the lighter and poppier moments on the album, save for the last minute or so where James Dean Bradfield really lets loose on the vocals accompanied by the thrashing drums and rise in tempo. Those guitar harmonics that serve as the song’s main musical hook are brilliant too. Good musical substance packed into two and a half minutes.

The lyrics were written by Richey Edwards, the band’s former guitarist and lyricist who disappeared one day in February 1995. Despite all hopes that he would some day return, he was officially presumed dead 13 years later in November of 2008. All of the lyrics on the album were written by him, if you hadn’t heard it before, and were taken from a notebook that he had left behind before his disappearance. They’re not the easiest to decipher, though that doesn’t matter really. I’ve always sensed some sort of sarcasm and satire from them though for reasons I don’t understand myself. You’d just have to listen to the song.