Sunday, September 23rd, 2007 // Paperhouse
Slicing, broiling, chewing, and swallowing are such natural processes that singing about them is just as natural. Eating is one of life’s purest visceral pleasures, so I present to you a list of songs about food (at least in name).
Cibo Matto — “Artichoke” “Artichoke” is off of the Cibo Matto’s magnum opus, Viva! La Woman, in which Cibo Matto presents to us a number of food-themed songs. “Artichoke” is the most “serious” food and song on the album, beginning with a crumple and a clatter over a clunky piano. It’s definitely not a fast food track — it oozes all over, and Hatori’s voice glides along the distorted instruments. “Can you squeeze a lemon on me?”
REM — “Orange Crush” Orange Crush is a deliciously sweet soda, and I’ve always had a thing for this classic REM tune, in part because it refers to something so lighthearted as a soft drink. At least, that’s what I used to think — according to Wikipedia, “Orange Crush” is talking about Agent Orange. Huh. Well, at least this song, secretly about Vietnam, has the fun fizz of the soda. (There’s also a far more depressing version: the recent cover by Editors.)
Wiley — “Pies” Wiley is a British rapper who produced a subgenre of Grime he calls “Eski,” as in Eskimo, because his beats are so icy. The beats on “Pies” sound like they were created by hitting massive icicles with mallets, so Wiley channels strangely serious hip-hop as he sings: “Who ate all the pies? (pies) / Who ate all the pies? (pies) / There goes Wiley, there goes Wiley, he ate all the pies, boy.” Clearly, “Pies” is an incisive exposé on urban life in London.
Coil — “Broccoli” You might think a song called “Broccoli” would be silly, and the gloomy clicking and chanting are so over the top that it is at least smirk-worthy. That is, until you realize the band is talking about the death of your parents, saying: “Wise words from the departing: Eat your greens, especially broccoli. Always wear sensible shoes.” Beyond creepy.
Smashing Pumpkins — “Mayonaise” I love mayonnaise, the condiment. Many people find it absolutely disgusting, but there’s something fabulous about its semi-gelatinous giggle smothered all over French fries. There’s also something fabulous about Corgan’s voice smothered all over “Mayonaise” [sic]. “Mayonaise” presents a shockingly perfect balance of breathiness, guitar distortion, and indulgent, adolescent angst. Fans adore it, along with the better-known tracks off Siamese Dream like “Disarm” and “Cherub Rock.” It’s almost depressing to listen to the overdramatic, whiny new Pumpkins album — alongside the intricate, sensitive Siamese Dream — but that’s a different column entirely.
Sunday, September 16th, 2007 // Paperhouse
In 1996 DJ Shadow released his debut album Endtroducing…... I don’t know much about its impact on the music world at that time, but I’ll share my personal experiences with it.
Once I started listening to the album, it took me three years or so to slowly get obsessed with it. I liked it at first, and thought it was great, but put it away as I got distracted with other new music. Every once in a while someone would mention it and I’d dig it out and listen again and like it a little more. The same thing happened with my friends. They enjoyed it at first, put it away, and wound up completely taken over by its subtle greatness a few years later.
The experience comes in two parts; the first revelation that the album provides the listener is a complete trust in sampling as a musical instrument and an art form. For those unaware, Endtroducing….. is an album composed entirely of samples from other sources — among the first of its kind. Shadow expertly weaves drum loops, bass lines, strings, and all sorts of beautiful melodies into completely new songs. The effect can be mesmerizing; at times it seems that Shadow had all the melodies in his head already and only had to sift through hundreds of records to find the ones that matched what he already knew. In reality, the process was likely similar, though Shadow was probably influenced by the types of samples he heard as well.
Once you hear Endtroducing….. it’s almost laughable to see how excited people get about Madonna sampling ABBA and Crazy In Love’s sample of the Chi-Lites. The difference? Shadow doesn’t owe the greatness of his songs to the greatness of his samples.
The album’s second revelation comes the next time you hear one of the sampled songs in full. Shadow’s samples usually sound nothing like what the end result is on Endtroducing…... For example, Shadow’s “Stem/Long Stem” samples the beginning of “Love Suite” by Nirvana (’60s psychedelic band, not Cobain’s). On Shadow’s track, the strings and plucked sounds are ominous and scary. It’s long, dark, and moody, and most of it is held together by that one sample. In contrast, “Love Suite” turns into a happy, bouncy track right after the point where Shadow’s sample ends.
As in “Stem/Long Stem,” Shadow knows how to slice out a completely benign sample from a track and turn it into something fierce. He doesn’t go for the entire great synth riff. He’ll take the beginning few notes, fuse it with the outro and create something entirely his own. Just listen to Tangerine Dream’s “Invisible Limits” and then check out Shadow’s “Changeling” to get a taste of the genius.
Sunday, September 9th, 2007 // Paperhouse
So you’re a rock star — congratulations. You’ve finally recorded your 10 or 12 songs, and you’re ready to finish the album and send it off to record execs everywhere. But wait — which song goes where?
Now, if you’re Britney Spears or Three Doors Down, you can throw all the singles in a row at the beginning. Whatever. You’ll sell millions anyway, and as long as you hear that one catchy tune, who cares if it’s a coherent or even listenable album? But this problem of poorly planned albums exceeds the top 40, and may even reach artists you like (see Beck’s Guero, Ratatat’s self-titled, or Modest Mouse’s latest for examples of albums that leave you bored by the halfway point).
On a side note, there aren’t many albums that fail in the reverse direction. Maybe musicians are scared that nobody will listen if they load up the back of an album with hits.
So, you’re planning your CD. What comes first? Ideally, it’d be an attention getter, but not the only hit. “Like Eating Glass” from Bloc Party’s Silent Alarm is one example. It’s jagged, angular, and quick, and sets the stage for the album. And, if you bought the album because you heard “Banquet” (track four) on the radio, you’ll keep listening.
Next, cool down a bit — right out of High Fidelity. I wouldn’t say add some filler, but maybe if you’ve got a couple songs that are pretty typical of your sound but not the greatest, tracks two or three might be a good place to put them. Another option is to lead off with a throwaway “intro” track (although this will annoy shufflers) and put the attention-getter at track two, as in the Foo Fighters album The Colour and the Shape (“Doll” followed by “Monkey Wrench”).
At around track four, drop the hit. There’s a lot of precedent here: Weezer’s blue album, Daft Punk’s Discovery, the Red Hot Chili Peppers album Californication, even the new Arcade Fire album. The ideal album would keep the next few tracks pretty strong, with something else interesting around eight to keep everyone listening.
By then, most of your best songs might be exhausted. How do you keep people interested then? If you’re making Talking Heads: 77, you just keep tossing on great songs. Fine. If not, you can switch gears; some great albums have kept interest because their second halves have been the deeper, moodier counterparts to the upbeat first halves (see Abbey Road and Of Montreal’s The Sunlandic Twins.) A contrast will help listeners break the album into chunks that they can easily absorb. And that’s the goal, right?
On the other hand, if you’re making a concept album, disregard this all entirely and follow your muse! Just, whatever you do, don’t put a “secret track” after 12 minutes of silence at the end.
