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#926: Blur – No Distance Left to Run

Damon Albarn and former Elastica frontwoman Justine Frischmann were sometimes labelled the ‘King and Queen of Britpop’ during that time in the ’90s when that whole movement was happening. They were a couple through and through until they broke up in 1998, leaving Albarn traumatised and incredibly bummed out by the ordeal. The fallout of that, plus a dependence on heroin and straining relationships within Blur resulted in 13, the group’s most experimental album, possibly their most sonically adventurous too. It truly goes off the deep end about four songs in and onward. So when ‘No Distance Left to Run’ comes in as the record’s penultimate track, it enforces a sound of band that really has nothing left to give.

The song has to go down as one of the saddest in Blur’s catalogue. It’s about the dreadful realisation that a relationship’s over, one that a lot of years went into with a lot of heart, and tearfully wishing the other person all the best with someone else while you’re all alone and left wanting to die. I may have exaggerated a little bit on that last point. But it’s clear that Albarn wasn’t in the greatest of places while recording this. His trembling vocal take alongside Graham Coxon’s weeping guitar are the highlights throughout. In the band’s 2010 documentary, named after this track as a matter of fact, Coxon mentions that Albarn never told the bandmates what was going on, but it was quite obvious that things weren’t good. So he tried to make a riff and some chord progressions that would match whatever words Albarn wrote down. Fair to say he does them justice. I do particularly like the spacey instrumental in the middle, with those twinkling keys that pan from left to right alongside those smooth ‘ooh’ vocals. I thought it was a choir doing them, but I upon further research it seems they are done by Albarn and Coxon, or Albarn double-tracked. Whatever way, it’s good listening.

I wasn’t properly living around the time of this album’s release or thereafter. Would have been very young at the time. But looking back as a Blur fan and reading up on stuff, ‘No Distance Left to Run’ could very much have been the band’s last track on an album. One on which there’s singing anyway. Going into the new century, it seemed that the group wasn’t sure where to go, releasing a ‘Best Of’ compilation. Then Damon Albarn put more focus on Gorillaz, and forged a whole other path of success. But thankfully that wasn’t the case, and two more Blur albums were made. Let’s hope there’s another soon.

#905: Good Shoes – Never Meant to Hurt You

Here’s another track by Good Shoes, one that like countless others throughout this series I got to know just by watching MTV2 in the morning. I’ve given something of a backstory as to how I came know the band’s music in the previous post I did concerning them, which greatly decreases the amount of words I’d have to write on here. Also allows me to talk more about the song. I’m by no means a professional, but I’ll try my best.

The track is the tale of a relationship where a girl is infatuated with the man she’s with while he just doesn’t feel the same. The narrator’s remorseful about the way things ended, wishing that things had been different, and trying to maintain the fact that with all that happened no harm was ever meant to be caused. It’s a sad subject. But together with the cutesy stop-motion music video and its general catchiness and urgent melodies, the melancholy tends to float under the radar a little. You can definitely sense a tinge of sadness though. That changes however when after that final instrumental break, the song ends with a joyous repetition of the title.

One thing I’ve noticed about Good Shoes is that there’s barely any bass in their songs, and as a result their tracks can sound very light and easy on the ears, and it also lets those little guitar licks stick out more too. That certain style suits this track perfectly, especially during those instrumental breaks that separates the choruses and verses. I also like singer Rhys Jones’ vocals on this. He pronounces and enunciates words in ways which I don’t think I’ve heard before. He’s not the greatest singer by any means, but there’s a lot of feeling behind it. That’s all you want really. Below’s the album version, which isn’t any different from the video above except that it has the word ‘fuck’ in it.

#872: The Wombats – Moving to New York

The music video for this song isn’t that great. I thought that in 2007/8, and I still hold that opinion today. A lot of awkward staring and just a very low-budget tone to it. Song’s good though, always enjoy hearing it whenever it comes up on shuffle or something. ‘Moving to New York’ was a single from The Wombats’ first album, and its various appearances on MTV2 was how I came to know of its existence. It was also another reason for me to request that album as a present, birthday or Christmas, either/or, I can’t remember that well.

The track carries on a theme of self-deprecation and doubt that goes on throughout Love, Loss and Desperation. On here, the narrator generally seems to be down on their luck. They’ve had a bad week, they don’t know whether they’re coming or going, so they decide to move to New York in order to get some good sleep. Ah, but you see the joke here is that New York is known as the city that never sleeps, so it’s safe to assume that this person won’t have the greatest success with the decision they’ve made. It’s all a very sarcastic, ironic affair going on lyrically.

Despite the dismissive tone in its lyrics, it’s a thoroughly enjoyable track. Matthew Murphy sings it really well, and the thing to look out for the most is the bass guitar which really carries the melodic backbone. My favourite part is probably the outro, not because it means that the song is ending, but the chord progression during that part seems to come out of nowhere. Overall, the track’s pretty harmless. I think it’s one that reminds a lot people of the mid-00s where there were so many bands in the UK making music like this. Some of them were terrible, but I’ll always have a bit of a soft spot for the Wombats. Especially that first record.

#827: They Might Be Giants – Memo to Human Resources

Today’s song is taken from They Might Be Giants’ 2004 album The Spine. I’m not quite sure what the consensus take on this album is among They fans, but it’s a favourite of mine. I wouldn’t say it surpasses the group’s first four albums though I reckon it’s quite a solid collection of songs. Some very strong ones on here. It’s the first to feature drummer Marty Beller who’s been in the band ever since, so there’s that. It’s the beginning of the five-man group as we know them today.

‘Memo to Human Resources’ is the third song on there. I’ll admit it took me a while to get into it. I was 14 when I heard the whole record for the first time and wasn’t fully equipped with the attention span to keep me through a long period of listening through an album just yet. But I listened to it one day and it clicked, I can’t say much else. The track’s got a very weary feel to it. Sturdy band performance, no one really puts a foot wrong. Judging by what I’ve seen on This Might Be a Wiki, some people think it’s about a man who’s suicidal. Though I’ve had the idea that it’s about a person who’s having an intervention.

The person sits alone in the back as someone searches through the bathroom shelf, maybe for a bottle or some drugs, and they don’t want to accept the advice given to him by “the people”. We don’t know who these people are, but in this case I think it’s maybe some of his family or friends. When the intervention’s over, he thinks about what’s happened in the house and ultimately feels good about it. Still, it’s a bit of a downer from the point of someone at the bottom of the bottle. Thankfully, it doesn’t last too long. Only two minutes.

#799: Tom Jones & Stereophonics – Mama Told Me Not to Come

Um… well, I was five years old when Tom Jones & Stereophonics released their cover of Randy Newman’s ‘Mama Told Me Not to Come’ (popularised in the ’70s by Three Dog Night), and it’s just stayed in my head since then. I think it played at the end of an awards show one time. I may have seen the music video every once in a while. It was a long time ago. It’s just a solid jam.

Stereophonics were part of that ‘post-Britpop’ thing that was going on in the late ’90s in the UK and were getting their places in the charts. They are also a Welsh group. So what could be better than pairing up this current Welsh band with this fellow Welsh legend? The result works very well. Tom Jones owns it, no doubt. Stereophonics’ singer Kelly Jones doesn’t do too bad either. He’s got that gravelly tone in his voice that a lot of people like. Together, the Jones sound like they’re having a great time. The track stays very true to the Three Dog Night cover instrumentally. It’s all about the vocals here.

Looking back on it, I think this whole era was meant to be some sort of comeback to the mainstream for Tom Jones. The album that this song is on, Reload, mainly consisted of cover versions of a lot of songs alongside a star-studded list of featured artists. He covered Talking Heads’ ‘Burning Down the House’ with the Cardigans. That was reasonably successful. The one original track, ‘Sex Bomb’, was massive and I remember that being played everywhere. The album got to number one twice in the UK and became Jones’ highest selling record, so I think the aim of bringing him back to the masses worked.