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#1191: Ween – She Wanted to Leave

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Before I properly dove into the world of Ween in the autumn of 2015, The Mollusk was the first album I listened to by the band a year and a bit earlier. Like many others out there, I heard ‘Ocean Man’ at the end of the SpongeBob movie, liked it and added it to the old iTunes library. (I’d already known ‘Daisies’, ‘Freedom of ’76’ and ‘Loop de Loop’ by seeing them at various points on the TV, which left me confused because they all didn’t sound they were made by the same people. But this is way besides the point.) ‘Ocean Man’ was the only Ween song sitting in that library for a while. So one day when I was chilling in my uni room, I thought “Why not?” and listened to the record in its entirety. Probably one of the best decisions I’ve made in this lifetime. I was 18 by the time this was going on, but it felt like the album should have been a longtime favourite of mine by that point. Was definitely a “Where has this been all my life?” kind of thing.

How suitable that the last song on The Mollusk is the final one from the album I’ll be talking about on here. There’s not a lot of love for ‘She Wanted to Leave’ that I’ve seen online. I’ve read other people saying that the album should have ended with ‘Ocean Man’, which I don’t understand. I like the song myself, but as an album closer? I think I’d really be wanting more. And ‘She Wanted…’ brings it all home with a sort of unexpected emotional ending. It’s a breakup song, “straight Richard Thompson” according to Dean Ween, but instead of the usual guy-girl clichés, Gene Ween sings from the perspective of a man who’s completely left out to dry and lost for words after their lady’s been wooed away by a bunch of pirates. Left broken by the whole ordeal, he goes straight to the booze and wallows in his misery. Quite the sad way to end what is an incredibly fun album. In fact, the last words “For I’m not the man I used to be/And now I’m one of them” left such a mark initially that the sentiment inspired me to make a post about the best ending lines on an album.

So you’ll notice the song really ends about 2-and-a-half minutes into the runtime. Leaves you wondering, “Well, what else is there?” And a few moments later, these whooshing synths come in – I guess meaning to sound like these ominous breezes in the middle of the quiet ocean – before a familiar melody begins to play. It’s only a slowed down reprise of ‘I’m Dancing in the Show Tonight’, the song that started the whole record off and, by that point, in the closing moments seems so long ago. The little hidden touch puts a feather in the cap of the whole package. This is the way that the album should close out, and it was always meant to be. Clicking on the ‘the mollusk’ tag below will take you to the other songs from the album I’ve written posts for. And if I’d known it when I was doing the ‘B’ section, ‘The Blarney Stone’ and ‘Buckingham Green’ would have had their own articles too. It’s just how these things go sometimes.

#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.

#1097: Arcade Fire – Ready to Start

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Whoa, whoa, wow. I haven’t written about a song from this album since December 2013, when I covered ‘City with No Children’. One of those instances where I can’t say time’s flown, because I can’t remember writing that post at all. Didn’t write so much about the song on there from what I can see, but more about what it meant to me and all that melodramatic stuff. Well, I can try and change it up on this occasion. Also… I’m not the most massive fan of Arcade Fire all that much, so there’s not a lot of stuff of theirs on this site anyway. I’ll tell you now, there’s only one song left from The Suburbs I’ll be writing about in the future, and then that’s it for Arcade Fire on here. I’ll leave it to you to guess what that song is.

I’m thinking back to 2010, and I’m quite sure that ‘Ready to Start’ was the first song I heard from The Suburbs. It was a massive coincidence, however, because I wasn’t even aware that Arcade Fire was releasing a new album at the time, so I had no idea who this song was by, but I know it sounded good. I want to say that the song was playing in an advert for a TV show on E4 (that’s a channel over here in the UK), which was repeated almost every day and in the same time slot too. I also want to say that the TV show in question was Skins. A Google search by my 15-year-old self showed that this was indeed a new Arcade Fire song, and I downloaded The Suburbs not too long afterwards. Strange how these things work out.

I do like ‘Ready to Start’ a bunch, though. The finishing chord from the previous track on the album segue right into the ticking snare hits of the track’s introduction, which in turn transform into the driving rhythm that ultimately carry the song for the rest of its duration with a strike of those crash cymbals. ‘Ready to Start’ is a song about self-determination, forging your own path in life and finding the strength to do so amidst pressures from various outside forces. Contributors on Genius say it’s about the band’s indie credibility being questioned by their peers as they were signing onto a major label and shaking hands with those suit-wearing cigar smoking big wigs. I guess that could be right too. What I know is, the music sounds dramatic as anything. Almost hypnotizing during those choruses. And it comes to a climactic moment when it goes into half-time for the outro before returning to its regular tempo. Oh, and I was right, it was Skins that ‘Ready to Start’ was appearing in the trailer for. See? Look at it down there. Takes me right back, it does.

#1085: Eels – Rags to Rags

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I’m not sure if this is something I’ve ever talked about on here. For now, let’s say I haven’t. I had a YouTube account from 2008 – 2011 where I uploaded full albums and other various musical related stuff on there. This was back when you could actually get away with that stuff. But one day I went a bit too far, got my final strike and the account was shut down. Terminated. I was devastated. Three years of my life sorta gone just like that. My own fault, I know. Looking back on it, I think it caused slight bout of depression that coincided with my final two years in secondary school. It wasn’t a fun time. I was still going through that when listening to Eels’ Beautiful Freak album in September 2012. How am I so specific with the month? Well, ’cause it was a year on from when YouTube took my channel down. ‘Novocaine for the Soul’ I’d known prior to that first full listen to the album, but it was ‘Rags to Rags’ that seemed to capture how I was feeling at the time.

The track is written from the perspective of a guy who looks in the mirror, doesn’t think much of what he sees and has something of an existential crisis despite having gone through the ideal American Dream of coming from nothing to suddenly having everything he could ever want. All this is spurred on by the sight of a lone spider crawling on the reflection of the narrator’s eye. Singer/guitarist E might just be singing about himself on this one, correct me if I’m wrong. He’s fulfilled his dream, but still feels worthless like a bunch of rags and rust, coming to the conclusion that this ‘dream’ was ultimately pointless. The only time he gets some solace is in his dreams when he thinks of his hometown, reminiscing about the railroad tracks (something he’d sing about again later in the band’s material) and the pussy willow (something I didn’t know existed until I heard this song).

It’s been 11 years now since that first listen. Some ways it really feels like that amount of time has passed, in others it feels like it was just last week. Either way, the song still provides that feeling-down comfort, even if its lyrical subject matter is a bit of a downer. Some good alternative rock music right here. ‘Rags’ was released as a single in 1996, and from what it looks like a music video was made for it, but the complete version of it seems to be wiped off the face of the earth. You can see a good portion of it, but its beginning and end are missing. Funnily enough, the video finishes before E delivers the line about the American Dream not meaning ‘a fucking thing’. Surely that’s just coincidental, right? If anyone from Eels is reading, let’s get the video back.

#1043: Nick Drake – Place to Be

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Well, well, it’s Nick Drake again. Though this won’t be the last time I write about him on this website, it’ll be the last time you’ll see a track of his in this particular section. Who knew that basically a quarter of the songs on Pink Moon began with the letter ‘P’? Never would have thought about it without this, would you? Not like it’s very useful information anyway. Representing the last of the Ps from Pink Moon today is the album’s second track, ‘Place to Be’. With the preceding title track providing a more surreal, symbolic take on Drake’s outlook on life, ‘Place to Be’ is where he lays the facts down straight.

I believe this track is the last one on the album on which he uses a plectrum to play his acoustic guitar, with the rest all consisting of his intricate fingerpicking. And as a result, just like the ‘Pink Moon’ track, ‘Place to Be’ has a very driving momentum to it with Drake playing the guitar with an air of confidence and striding force. The strings ring out with a rich tone to them, and the music overall lures you in with its warmth. But on top, Drake tells the listener how he is as the man who sings to you compared to the days of yesteryear, and he’s not doing too well. The lyrics are plain to understand. When he was younger, he was ignorant to the cold, hard truth. But now he has himself hardened as a person and can see things for what they are. He used to be vibrant and bright, but now has become darker in his moods. He asks to be given a place to be, and by that I assume he means a place to just exist without any troubles. Maybe somewhere to belong. It’s left up in the air, but it taps into a feeling I’m sure is felt universally.

The third and final verse contains the most telling and hard-hitting revelation out of those listed in the previous two. Referencing his ‘Day Is Done’ track, which bear in mind was only released three years prior, he tells the listener that compared to then he was now the weakest he’s ever felt. So weak in a need for something or someone that isn’t fully disclosed. They’re just referred to as ‘you’. Maybe you is the ‘place to be’ itself. Maybe it’s a loved one. I’ve seen interpretations that suggest that ‘you’ is death. Any way you look at it though, it’s a sad affair. But instead of making it too melodramatic, he transferred his energy into an beautiful earnest acoustic performance. It does make you wonder how things changed so much for the worse for him in that relatively short amount of time.