The Bones of An Idol

"We cling to the raft, we are missing by half what we wanted,
But we escaped with the bones of an idol
Escaped with the belt and the title, but our land is gone."

--The New Pornographers, The Bones of an Idol


This is a bit of a post-script to the previous post regarding the closing of "The Finest," the venerable old record store in Fort Collins. So you may want to skip down and read the older post first, but do what you will. I decided to take a trip down to the The Finest record store on Saturday, their final day, to see what was going on, reminisce, and maybe pick up a few deals on CDs. Yes, I still buy CDs, I'm old school that way. But I haven't bought any at the Finest in years, it seems like. Maybe one or two now and then, but the vast majority I now purchase on line. This is of course a primary indication as to why the Finest, and other record stores of the like, are going out of business.

So I cruised across town to see what I could dredge up on the last day. Turns out they were selling CDs for 50 cents per CD, or 25 cents per if you bought 100 (!) Pretty good deal there! So I walked over to the rack of CDs and started to leaf through them, and an unexpected wave of nostalgia washed over me. I used to do this all the time! leaf through racks and racks of CDs. And I don't think I'd done it in years. It was a bitter-sweet feeling (more bitter than sweet? Sorry, couldn't resist). The music lovers who read this will know what a pleasure it is to browse through stacks of CDs, looking at the strange bands, the popular bands, the new stuff, the old classics. Looking for the perfect disc to complement your mood, fill in that gap in your music collection, or maybe looking for a particular disc, and maybe finding a completely different disc. And I wouldn't be doing that again, at least not in this town, possibly never. So I went through them all. Not that there were that many to leaf through by this point, the carcass having been picked pretty clean by the culture vultures who came before me, but I didn't want to miss anything this one last time. I started at A and went all the way to Z. My time was somewhat limited so I stuck to the pop/rock section, which is my kind of music anyway so no harm done there. I was hoping I would find something I liked, something that would make the venture worthwhile. And for 50 cents per disc, I figured I could take some chances and get some things I wouldn't normally buy. What the hell. Support your local business, I thought ruefully.

I ended up finding 16 discs to purchase. 16! All 16 for $8! And in retrospect I kind of wished I'd have bought more. But 16 was enough, certainly. I'll list them all at the end, it's an amusing list to me. But what really made it worthwhile was 1 disc in particular that was really just perfect. Honestly I'd have paid $8 just for this: "Of Skins and Heart" by "The Church."



It's a terrific album, and it was also a CD that I used to own and frequently listen to when I was in college, but had subsequently sold at some point in some unguarded moment of stupidity. I'd always vaguely regretted selling it. And there it was in my hands again. I didn't realize how much I'd missed it until I saw the cover. It immediately reminded me of all the great songs therein. I turned it over to see the song listing and most of the songs came back to me right away, just by looking at the titles. Even the song title font elicited memories of listening to this CD in my dorm room 20 years ago. Proust can have his madeleine, I have this. I couldn't believe I was going to be able to purchase this CD for 50 cents. It was worth so much more than that to me. Maybe more in terms of sentimental currency than filthy lucre, but all of a sudden I felt like I was ripping these guys off for this precious little treasure. I entertained the notion that maybe I'd sold this exact copy of the CD to The Finest 20 years ago, and there it sat for 20 years, waiting for me to come back and claim it on the very last day at the last possible moment. In reality I don't think this was the case but it's a romantic notion to which I'll cling.

It really made my day, finding this long-lost CD. Sure, I could have simply bought it on-line at any number of intervening moments between when I sold it in the murky past and yesterday, but the symbolic relevance of finding it here, at the Finest, at the place where I may have even purchased it all those years ago, felt more reassuring and correct.

And shameful as well, that this poor store would give me so much happiness on the day of its closing! I walked to the counter and paid for my treasures and my trash. I thought about giving the clerk a 20 and saying "Harry, keep the change." I really didn't know what to say, actually. Sorry you're closing? Thanks for all the tunes? How come you didn't hire me 20 years ago, you jerks? It didn't really matter what I said, so I just said thanks, took my change and my CDs, and walked out.


So what does the fall of Saigon sound like? As promised, the list of 50 cent CDs purchased by yours truly, in alphabetical order in which they were found:

"Breakfast Club", self-titled, from 1987. I got a chuckle out of this one since it was a CD I bought in high school for the single "Right on Track," but sold shortly thereafter as I believe the rest of the CD is absolute rubbish (we'll find out shortly!). Not the same nostalgic wash of the Church, but it made my chuckle, and that's worth 50 cents apparently.

Buffalo Tom, Sleepy Eyed, from 1995. A 90s alt-rock band I'm slightly familiar with, worth a chance. And I know a Tom from Buffalo! Although I think the band is from Boston.

The Church, Of Skins and Heart. See aforementioned notes.


The Church, Parallel Universe, 2002








The Church, Forget Yourself, 2002. I was so full of good-cheer over finding the Skins/Heart CD that I snatched up all the other Church CDs I could find, regardless of quality.






Dada, American Highway Flower, 1994. See Buffalo Tom above.

Bryan Ferry, Taxi, 1993. I've a blind-spot for Bryan Ferry. This CD looks suspiciously self-indulgent and therefore bad, but it's Bryan F'ing Ferry!







Liam Finn, I'll Be Lightning, 2008. Score. This was a CD I was considering buying actually. Liam Finn is Neil Finn's son, Neil Finn of Crowded House and Split Enz. Hope the apple doesn't fall from the tree, because Neil is terrific. Speaking of Finn...

Tim Finn, self-titled, 1989. My roommate in college actually had this cd, I liked it but it's been probably 20 years since I've heard this. Sweet find.

The Juliana Hatfield Three, Become What You Are, 1993. This CD I'm almost certain I owned at some point, but it's been lost for several years now. Happy to have it back. One of C_ favorite CDs from college actually. But look, honey, I got one for you too!








Lush, Lovelife, 1996. I had the older Lush CD college, don't know much about this one.










The Mission UK, Children, 1988. This was probably only second to the Church CD in terms of "oh wow" nostalgia. I loved this CD in college, got sick of it at some point, and sold it. I think it only has one good song on it "Tower of Strength", but what a song! easily worth 50 cents just for that song. Youuuuuuu are a tower of Strength, To Meeeeee-eeeeee!

Beth Orton, Daybreaker, 2002. I only know "Mount Washington" from this CD but I recall that it is a well-reviewed release (ed: not true), so it's worth a shot.

Graham Parker, Don't Tell Columbus, 2007. He gets a free pass for "Squeezing Out Sparks", don't care if this is rubbish.

The Sundays, Static & Silence, 1997. See Lush above.

24-7 Spyz, Gumbo Millenium, 1990. A post-Living Colour all-black metal-rap-funk 90s indie band. One of my friends liked these guys in college, I think I even went to see them once, seeing the album cover made me crack up so I bought it. I did listen to this one and it certainly sounds dated, and self-consciously different, but it's interesting, and that counts for something I suppose!

The Finest, RIP

"What are your three favorite bands?"


Oh great. I'm sunk. This is an application question? This is at once wonderful and terrifying. Wonderful in the sense that I could land a job where this was one of the interview questions. Terrifying in the sense that I'm probably not going to answer the question correctly. Really, how do I answer? What are my three favorite bands? What do I want people to think my three favorite bands are? What three bands could get me this job?

And the kicker:

"What is the most Obscure Band you know?"

Oh, the pressure! Most obscure? I'll have to dig deep and come up with the most magical band ever here.

The year is 1989, I'm staring at an application for a job at "the Finest". The Finest is Fort Collins' well, finest record store. They have all the cool music. As a music lover it would be an honor to work there. I would be considered a music elite -- or snob, more likely. Call me what you will, but I would be on the front lines of all that is new and interesting and experimental about music! I would be a music sage. But was I worthy of it? Likely not.

But try I must, apply I must, for this is 1989 and I am a freshman at Colorado State, working at an indescribably awful job cleaning dirty dishes in my dorm cafeteria for minimum wage. This job I took after quitting my job making bagels for a local bakery, a job which lasted all of one sweaty flour-filled afternoon. In hindsight the bagel job was probably much better than the cafeteria job, but the bagel job was admittedly crappy also, and much farther away from where I lived.

But neither job could hold a dirty food tray to working at a record store! I could be just like those guys in "High Fidelity"! Of course this was before that movie came out. Now I wonder, which High Fidelity character would I have been? John Cusack, the crabby snobbish delusional owner? Jack Black, the unkempt recalcitrant snob? Or the bald thin dude who looked like Moby, the snobbish reserved recluse? Or (gasp) the square old man who gets dispatched upon requesting new Stevie Wonder music instead of the good stuff? I mean really, I spent all of my spare money -- such that I had, which wasn't much -- on music anyway, maybe I would get a discount working there. Maybe the other clerks would make me cool music mixes. I was lost in a reverie of being that guy; the guy who knew all the cool music.

Things were different in 1989, pre-Internet and pre mp3. Alternative or Indie music was difficult to come by back then. Even if you knew what you wanted, you had a hard time finding it. And even when you found it you could rarely afford it. Those import discs were expensive! People with cool music collections were heroes of a sort. They had rare albums. Their opinions mattered. Frankly it was difficult even to know what the cool new music was. Small bands, indie bands, didn't have the ability to market themselves effectively. If they weren't signed to a big label, they had difficulty getting their message out, getting their music heard. The listener had to make an effort to find music for themselves. But where? How? It helped to have an older sibling who listened to music, and I had two, actually, who both had good yet different taste. Otherwise one had to befriend the weird people at school. You know, the ones who dress up like it's Halloween, every day (what a give-away).

And my weird friends L_ and K_ had the best, coolest musical taste of anyone I knew. New Order, the Cure, the Smiths, of course, but also deeper stuff like Bauhaus, Skinny Puppy and Public Image Limited were familiar territory to them. I got by on recommendations and mix tapes. But the independent record shop, "the Finest" in my case, was the ultimate treasure-trove of interesting and unusual music. I tried to discover new music for myself, but it usually seemed to end up all wrong. I'd go to the music store and peruse the racks, and look at the recommended music. All the clerks at the Finest got to "recommend" something, on a special rack right next to the door. Music you'd never heard of. Music, probably, too amazing and different for you to enjoy. But one felt compelled to purchase it in order to gain admittance to the club of cool music lovers.

I was always intimidated by that recommended music rack. There were 16 different bands there and I've never heard of any of them! Do I go based on cover? That cover has a candle on it. How arty! I wonder if it would be too difficult though? That one has a topless lady on it! How provocative! I wonder if it would be too confrontational though? But would I really like it? Probably not. I'd buy it, take it home, listen to it 10 times in a row and try really hard to like it, and then put it away, never listen to it again, and sell it 5 years later. Was the joke on me? Or was my taste just too provincial? I thought I really liked cool music, maybe just not quite cool enough for the record store clerks. I mean I liked New Order, at least I thought I did, but not the early stuff. I liked Ministry, but only the early stuff! I tried and tried to like Joy Division, but largely to no avail at the time, except for the "hits". But I thought, maybe if I worked at the Finest, I'd learn to appreciate these crazy obscure bands. Maybe someday I could have a recommended album of my own on the rack. I was compelled to try.

So I would frequently end up walking round the store with the Candle, the Topless Lady, and 3 or 4 other records in my arms, trying to decide which one of the group, if any, I would take home. It seemed like the most important decision in the world at the time, a decision that would literally change my life for better or worse depending on the choice. Choose well and be rewarded with an album that you would love forever, that would become a part of you. Choose poorly and forever rue the wasted money, the wasted time, and perhaps most importantly the wasted emotional investment.

Now if I was being honest in 1989, my three favorite bands would probably have been: "New Order, INXS, and The Cure". At least those were the ones I listened to over and over, much to the annoyance of my roommate, I'm sure. Not too outrageous there, but better than, say, "Def Leppard, Guns 'N Roses, and Jimmy Buffett" (the three most popular bands at school that year), but probably not cool enough for the Finest. I considered stepping it up a bit: how about "Joy Division, Bauhaus, and, uh, The Clash". Yeah. But what if they asked me questions about those bands? "Who was in The Clash?" Mick Jones? Wasn't he in Foreigner? That can't be right can it? "What's your favorite Bauhaus album?" Uh, the one with the face on it? "How come Joy Division broke up?" Oh you either know it or you don't; no way to bluff out of that one. Am I, *gasp*, a poser? Now I'm ashamed. I realize that my taste, my musical knowledge, my cool just don't measure up. I can see the dismissive smirk of the clerk at the Finest as he brushes back his black bangs and reads my application. I can feel his withering stare as I face the rack and ruminate over his recommended music, music he knows I can't appreciate as much as him.

Now I'm angry. Those fascists! How dare they try to pigeon-hole me into three bands! I like all sorts of music, damn it! I should have answered, "Screw, You, and (The) Fascists". Ha ha, those are probably all real bands. In retrospect that just might have gotten me the job. But I decided that it was better to be honest. If they can't see my raw potential then I don't think I'm cut out for working at the Finest. Ok, "New Order, INXS, and The Cure", it was. Ironically Joy Division, Bauhaus, and, The Clash ended up becoming much more popular with me than any of those other bands, but in due time, not right away, not in 1989.

So the dreaded 3 favorites question was now answered. But what about the Obscure Band? How do I answer that? I think they were looking to see if I was keeping up with the latest music. So I put down the most recent band I'd heard of. In retrospect this turned out to be a bad choice. No, not Milli Vanilli, thankfully they hadn't burst upon the scene yet and I was spared that choice. The night before I had watched "120 minutes" on MTV, and I picked a band whose video I saw that night: Camouflage. Obscure, certainly, but ultimately pretty bad. Turns out Camouflage was a second-rate German Depeche Mode wannabe band. Really not a horrible choice, and one pretty consistent with my other answers, but a band that would probably be laughed at by my heroes at the Finest.

I turned in that application, along with dozens of other music-snob hopefuls, but I didn't think I had much of a shot. I liked New Order, sure, but I still liked Rush. Heck I still liked Ratt, for that matter. Still do! And I didn't get the job at any rate.

So really what is the point of this story? Actually it is a sort of eulogy to the Finest. You see, the Finest is closing it's doors this Saturday for good. The days of the record store are over, my friend. I mourn its passing because it represents a culture of music aficionados that largely no longer exists. I won't miss the store per se, I'll miss what it represented. I still love music, I still buy a lot of music, but it's been years since I bought anything at the Finest. And if I'm not buying there, that place is in trouble. I'm on-line now, just like everyone else. I get my music recommendations from music blogs and on-line reviews. Amazon and iTunes recommend new music for me, based on what they know I already like. And they're frequently right. And much less condescending about it than the raven-haired clerk at the Finest.

But even still there's something about the passing of the Finest that makes me melancholy. Certainly its passing reminds me of the passing of my own years and reminds me that I'm not as young as I once was. But also it reminds me that the thrill of discovering new music is not as exciting, difficult, or rewarding as it once was, ironically because it's so easy to find great music now. There's less joy in finding that new incredible band, because everyone already knows about it now, there's no arduous act of discovery. That rare song? Nothing is rare anymore. Everyone has everything on their hard-drives. The mystery is gone. Every song I could ever want to hear is always at my fingertips, and that ease of access somehow makes the music a little less special.

Part of me loathed the Finest because of how mainstream, how un-cool it made me feel. But part of me loved the Finest because of the mystery is represented. If I could just unlock its secrets and slip past its traps, I could discover great treasures. The Finest was a castle with a beautiful maiden locked in its tallest tower. iTunes is a brothel. Everything you iDesire is iThere, and assessable, and doled out to anyone with the means, regardless of worth. The thrill is, indeed, gone. Thank goodness the music is still there. So Rest In Peace, the Finest, the times have surely passed you by but your memory lives on in song. Weird, indecipherable song.

Marvin Gaye, Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology), (1971)

Marvin Gaye, Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology), 1971

From What’s Going On



Apparently this song was covered on Earth Day 2007, understandably so, as there is a strong environmental theme to the lyric content. I missed that bit though; all I can remember is poor Roger Hodgson! Marvin Gaye was not the first artist to write a pop song about the environment but he had to be one of the first Motown artists to do so. It’s a good song, but I think it is too similar to “What’s Going On”, also on the same album. I have to imagine that Marvin Gaye probably wrote the song in the spirit of Earth Day 1970, and the environmental movement, which were gaining momentum around that time. The lyrical content and delivery are bleak and weary, also a radical departure from the typical Motown style. This song sounds acceptable now, but there was no way of knowing if it would be accepted back then. This song along with the song and album “What’s Going On” literally changed Motown. It is often cited that Gaye’s artistic and individualistic triumphs helped give Stevie Wonder the courage to demand creative control, leading to his unapproachable string of mid-70s classic albums. So this is an important song, as well as a good song, but an imperfect song, because it is still too much like “What’s Going On”

Piano, rhythm guitar, drums, bass and triangle open the song. The rhythm of the song is quite clever. The drum beat is a slow 4/4, which leaves room for a fairly active bass drum beat. The guitar actually carries a loose sixteenth beat and most of the funkiness comes from the accentuated off-beat guitar chords. The piano mostly lays down the chord changes on the one beat. The bass guitar is the star in this song. Since the guitar is keeping time the bass is fairly free to walk up and down the scales and provide a lot of color to the song.

There is a string arrangement that enters the song near the second chorus, and a fairly brassy sax solo closes out the single version of the song. The album version of the song contains a wholly new section complete with dissonant ethereal vocalizations and more prominent string orchestra. It is an altogether unhappy end to the song, and I can understand why it was left off the #4 single.

Marvin sings with a two-part harmony for the first verse, but does not return to that. For the rest of the song he sings the main melody alone, and had backing vocals singing a sort of counterpoint or commentary of the main melody. Counterpoint is probably too formal of a term. The backing vocals have a loose spontaneous jazzy feel that is very indicative of the whole album. Also “The Andantes” are featured with their wordless vocals, particularly at the end of the song.

The strangest sound for me is a very odd percussion effect doubling the snare drum. It sounds almost like water dropping from a great height in the middle of a dark cave, or the sound of a horse walking slowly down a cobblestone road. I love it.

Lyrics

Oh, mercy mercy me
Oh, things ain't what they used to be
No, no
Where did all the blue sky go?
Poison is the wind that blows
From the north, east, south, and sea

Oh, mercy mercy me
Oh, things ain't what they used to be
No, no
Oil wasted on the oceans and upon our seas
Fish full of mercury

Oh, mercy mercy me
Oh, things ain't what they used to be
No, no
Radiation in the ground and in the sky
Animals and birds who live nearby are dying

Oh, mercy mercy me
Oh, things ain't what they used to be
What about this overcrowded land?
How much more abuse from man can you stand?
My sweet Lord
My sweet Lord
My sweet Lord

The Drifters, Up on the Roof (1962)

The Drifters, Up on the Roof, 1962

Drifters star Pinkney dies at 81

“Bill Pinkney, the last surviving member of the original 1953 Drifters line-up, has died at the age of 81. The rhythm and blues singer was found dead at his hotel in Daytona Beach, Florida, a police spokesman said. … Seven members of The Drifters, including Pinkney, were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1998.”

This news item got me thinking about “Up on the Roof”, a sweet old R&B song by the Drifters. Of course Bill Pinkney wasn’t in The Drifters when this song was released, but this is the song I though of when I head of Mr. Pinkney’s passing, so it’s my review for today.

Up on the roof is just a perfect little R&B single. What makes it somewhat unique is that is has a ballad feel, but the lyrics are not about love, or a woman, but about just getting away from it all and taking some time off from this crazy ol world. The song owes a lot to Sam Cooke, both in vocal delivery and production. Cupid and Chain Gang come to mind, both of which were released in the previous two years. The first two note of the song sound like they could go right into Cupid! But there are differences; the lyrical content for starters, and the string break I suppose.

This song has been covered many times by many artists. It's likely that the version you're familiar with isn't by the Drifters. I believe they were the first to record the song, and it do go to #5 on the pop charts and #4 on the R&B charts in the USA. According to the wikipedia a version in the 1990s hit #1 in England. I must admit my first exposure to the song was via an a capella band called The Nylons, who had an album that was popular with my friends in high school. Yes I was a total choir geek. The Drifters first performed the song, but they did not write it. Back then it was still not common to write and perform your own material (The Beatles and Dylan changed all that!). Interestingly enough, "Up on the Roof" was co-written by Carole King, of later performing fame. This is a classic "Brill Building" song, a great example of that craft. The song certainly captures a musical time, sort of the very end of this style of pop music before the Beatles and Rolling Stones and Dylan came over and started shaking things up.

The production is part 50s schmaltz, part 60s R&B, with crooning backing vocals and stand up bass meshed with a slow shuffle on the guitars and drums. There’s a fairly brassy trumpet providing accents, and the strings provide a wonderful counterpoint. It’s topped off with marimba and some xylophone percussion.

Listen when Rudy Lewis sings (“On the roof, it's peaceful as can be”) in descending lines, while the string melody climbs in ascending tones through the same passage. Then Rudy pulls up for the last line of the bridge (“And there the world below can't bother me”). That part is easily my favorite passage of the song.

I also like the lower register backing vocals, and call and response style at the end of the song.

Lyrics

When this old world starts getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face
I climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just drift right into space
On the roof, it's peaceful as can be
And there the world below can't bother me
Let me tell you now

When I come home feelin' tired and beat
I go up where the air is fresh and sweet (up on the roof)
I get away from the hustling crowd
And all that rat-race noise down in the street (up on the roof)
On the roof, the only place I know
Where you just have to wish to make it so
Let's go up on the roof (up on the roof)

At night the stars put on a show for free
And, darling, you can share it all with me

I keep a-tellin' you

Right smack dab in the middle of town
I've found a paradise that's trouble proof (up on the roof)
And if this world starts getting you down
There's room enough for two
Up on the roof (up on the roof)
Up on the roo-oo-oof (up on the roof)
Oh, come on, baby (up on the roof)
Oh, come on, honey (up on the roof)

Everything is all right (up on the roof)

Bruce Springsteen, Dancing in the Dark (1984)

Bruce Springsteen, Dancing in the Dark (1984)

From Born in the USA, 1984

It’s the 4th of July so what better artist to review than Bruce Springsteen? I really should review “Born in the USA” itself, but I don’t feel like reviewing that song so I’m reviewing “Dancing in the Dark”. When this album and this song came out I must admit I was not a fan of Bruce Springsteen. For one, he was too popular and huge, and people like my parents liked him. Two, I couldn’t identify with the lyrics at the time, and if you don’t like his message, you’re not going to like Bruce. This album was titanic in the 1980s. In the USA there were 7 top 10 singles from this #1 album, and “Dancing in the Dark” was the highest charter, topping out at #2. It’s odd that a #1 album with so many singles didn’t produce a single #1 single.

I remember 3 or 4 years after this album came out having a conversation with my friend, who didn’t even like Springsteen, hearing him say that “nothing good has come out since ‘Born in the USA’”. (He denies ever saying this). At the time my other friend and I scoffed at the notion of course, and proceeded to make a mix take full of great songs that came out in the 3 or 4 years since “Born in the USA”. The irony is that it is likely that in retrospect, few if any of the songs on that now-lost mix tape were as good as most of the songs on “Born in the USA”.

But I digress; 20+ years down the road, I’ve learned to appreciate what Springsteen brings to the table. Overall “Dancing in the Dark” is a frustrating song for me. It is a potentially great song seriously hindered by some horrible 1980s production. It is the sort of song that plays better in my head than it does on the stereo. I’m willing to bet that it is a killer live song. Strip away the 80s junk and I believe you are left with a classic.

I particularly enjoy the lyrics to “Dancing in the Dark”. The lyric is told from the perspective of a man who works nights in a dead-end job, wants to write a book, and is generally uninspired with either. He’s looking for a spark to get him motivated with life, and is hipping to find it (likely) at a bar, dancing in the dark. At first blush it’s a downtrodden lyric, but on deeper analysis not hopeless. There’s a nice balance and depth there. It really is a great vocal. Bruce sings it with passion and applies a nice flowing melody to it. Also I do think it has a good tempo.

And the vocals have to be good because there is so much about the production of this song that is awful! In general the song succumbs to mid-80s production pitfalls. The drums are the biggest problem. Any subtleties in Max Weinberg’s drumming are processed out completely. They may as well have used a machine. The snare in particular is awful; a heavy gated reverb is applied to it, a hallmark of 80s drum production. That gated sound can be used to good effect but I don’t like it here. The production nearly completely reduces Max’s contributions to bass and snare, although you can hear some hi-hat in the quieter parts of the song. The bass guitar is pretty anonymous, pretty much hitting eighth-notes and riding the roots of the chords. This part of the band is criminally underused on this song.

Also there is too much synthesizer keyboard sound applied to the song. Probably the most enduring sound of the song is a cheesy sounding synth repeating the chorus melody over and over and over nearly ad nausea through the entire song. And for some reason they thought it would be a good idea to add even more synth “texture” on top of the song. Obviously I don’t think that was a good idea.

Not all is lost musically. Although his contribution is limited to the close-out of the song, I really enjoy the sax solo by Clarence Clemons. Also Steven Van Zandt’s guitar has a nice, breezy, almost Roger McGuinn sound to it, and I think he plays very well on this track.

The song busts out of the gate and just barrels along, alternating between verse and chorus with the slightest gap between them. The verses consist of two repeated melody lines, on which the second one Bruce usually gets a little agitated (“Wanna change my clothes, my hair, my face!”). This is followed by a single line with a slightly elevated melody (“I ain’t nothing but tired, man I’m just tired and bored with myself“), and then back to the original melody, with one change; the bass line drops to a lower note. It’s actually a nice effect. This leads directly into the chorus, which introduces a new melody in the first line (“You can’t start a fire, you can’t start a fire without a spark”) and then settles back into the original melody for the “title” line of the chorus. It’s a nice flowing melody line that sounds very natural.

The payoff of the song for me is a single bridge after the second chorus, where the song shifts briefly into another set of chord changes and Bruce introduces another, more hopeful set of lyrics (“You sit around getting older there’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me / I’ll shake this world of my shoulders, come on baby the laugh’s on me”). Then the song settles back into the familiar refrain for the final verse/chorus, and on to the finish line.

You can’t mention this song without mentioning the video:

Dancing in the Dark Video

This was 1984 and music videos were a big deal back then. I think everyone who is of my generation remembers this video, particularly in retrospect for Courtney Cox dancing on stage with Bruce at the end. I always thought the video was pretty cornball back then, and watching it now I still think that. One thing that annoyed me greatly back then was how cheerful he looked singing the song; I think I always interpreted the lyric as more desperate and wanted Bruce to sing it with more earnestness. I do concede that there is this element of the pick up line in the song (“I need a love reaction come on now baby give me just one look“), and playing up that angle would result in a more animated, bouncy performance. And, hell, the title is “Dancing in the Dark”, so I concede that some dancing around is warranted during the performance.

Lyrics:

I get up in the evening, and I ain’t got nothing to say
I come home in the morning, I go to bed feeling the same way
I ain’t nothing but tired, man I’m just tired and bored with myself
Hey there baby, I could use just a little help

You can’t start a fire, you can’t start a fire without a spark
This guns for hire even if were just dancing in the dark

Message keeps getting clearer, radios on and I’m moving round the place
I check myself out in the mirror I wanna change my clothes my hair my face
Man I ain’t getting nowhere just sitting in a dump like this
There’s something happening somewhere baby I just know that there is

You can’t start a fire...

You sit around getting older there’s a joke here somewhere and it’s on me
Ill shake this world off my shoulders come baby the laugh’s on me

Stay on the streets of this town and they’ll be carving you up alright
They say you got to stay hungry hey baby I’m just about starving tonight
I’m dying for some action I’m sick of sitting round here trying to write
This book
I need a love reaction come on now baby give me just one look

You cant start a fire…

The Clash, This is Radio Clash, (1981)

The Clash, This is Radio Clash (1984)

The Clash, This is Radio Clash, 1981

"This is Radio Clash" is a Single released by The Clash in 1981. I think it is a great single, mixing ska/dance hall, disco, proto-rap, while maintaining a punk attitude. It was never released on any Clash LP, but I expect most Clash collections contain the song. I first remember enjoying the song freshman year in college. My friend Dave had purchased “Story of the Clash, Vol. 1” (on 2 discs), and we listened to those discs a lot that year in college. I suppose there never was a volume 2, as the band had already broken up by the time this compilation came out. I was always struck by how un-“punk” the song was, belying their reputation as a punk rock band.

The intro is very 80s British ska. A minor horn motif opens the song, doubled by the bass. It sounds like a classic vaudeville “bad guy” melody. The drums accentuate the rhythm with the bass drum and choked crash cymbals. Wild-eyed maniacal laughter and a sharp snare drum fill conclude the intro, while the melody descends quietly. This is altogether an excellent intro to the song. Sinister, edgy, and yet somehow fun.

The bass line continues with the basics of the intro melody, and the drums settle into a relatively straight up stomp. The snare sound is accentuated by a very artificial sounding clap on the 2 and 4 beats. The hand claps are numbingly consistent through the entire song, reinforcing their robotic quality. Dance hall-styled percussive sound effects come and go through the song. The bass starts the melody and quiet horn fills finish it out. The overall effect is that of space, sort of calm after the relatively wild intro.

At the beginning of the first verse, the bass switches to a fairly straight-ahead 1-2-3-4 rhythm, with the horns mostly following suit. It is a very good dance club beat. The song continues to maintain a ska feel, even though there is no emphasis on the off beat, which is typical or ska songs. The basic melody is actually similar to Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust”, which was released a year earlier and was a huge hit in the USA.

Joe Strummer handles lead vocal on this track. Mick Jones and Joe Strummer had completely distinct vocal styles. This variety of vocal delivery styles is one of the many things that elevated the Clash a cut above most bands. Mick typically handled the more “pop” vocals, while Joe was more of the punk rock screamer. Although on this song I think Joe goes more for the drunken lout effect. Joe delivers nearly every lyric in the song with the same melody. In retrospect it has an almost rap feel to it, although at the time it would probably be considered a dance hall or ska delivery. The song does not really have choruses, just verses and instrumental breaks.

The guitar (this is the Clash, right?) does not make an appearance until the break between the first and second verses, and when it comes in it is with a very funky disco break. Somehow the Clash are so punk that everything they do is punk, but there is very little that is punk about this song, other than perhaps the lyric content.

During the second break there is some great interplay between the disco guitar, which has returned, and a little funk slap bass playing.
The song never really “goes anywhere” in the view of a traditional song. There’s no chorus, no solo, and very few song changes. In that regard it reminds me of “Chocolate City” by Parliament. Just lay down a killer groove, and let the man speak.

Lyrics:

I don’t want to interpret too much, but I assume at the time they could be interpreted as a denouncement of Thatcher’s England. It sort of details an English urban ghetto and new Vietnam, right at home. It outlines a criticism of conducting war abroad while allowing the economy at home to suffer. They’re all sang from the standpoint of a radio broadcaster of sorts. At the time England was going through a terrible recession, and unemployment was quite high. The general feel of the lyrics is an apocalyptic view of society in the 80s, and a warning that the troubles, and quite possibly the radical politics, of the third world (Cuba, Vietnam) could be coming soon to countries like England. You can also listen to the lyrics on another level, as a bit of boasting about the band itself. “The Clash is coming into your home, listen to what we have to say, we can’t be controlled by the man, we have our own pirate radio station.” The attitude projected on that level is very closely aligned with a lot of rap/hip-hop sentiments, I’m thinking about Public Enemy in particular.

The lyrics are by no means a well thought out polemic, but the style of the song doesn’t call for that. The lyrics are more like “sound bytes”, and given the title of the song, you can picture a sort of revolutionary campaigner with a bullhorn and a microphone, shouting out fiery slogans to the unwashed masses.

Lyrics:

Interrupting all programmes

This is radio clash from pirate satellite

Orbiting your living room,
Cashing in the bill of rights
Cuban army surplus or refusing all third lights
This is radio clash on pirate satellite

This sound does not subscribe
To the international plan
In the psycho shadow of the white right hand
Then that see ghettology as an urban viet nam
Giving deadly exhibitions of murder by napalm

This is radio clash tearing up the seven veils
This is radio clash please save us, not the whales
This is radio clash underneath a mushroom cloud
This is radio clash
You dont need that funeral shroud

Forces have been looting
My humanity
Curfews have been curbing
The end of liberty

Hands of law have sorted through
My identity
But now this sound is brave
And wants to be free - anyway to be free

This is radio clash on pirate satellite
This is not free europe
Noh an armed force network
This is radio clash using audio ammunition
This is radio clash can we get that world to listen?
This is radio clash using aural ammunition
This is radio clash can we get that world to listen?
This is radio clash on pirate satellite
Orbiting your living room,
Cashing in the bill of rights
This is radio clash on pirate satellite
This is radio clash everybody hold on tight

A-riggy diggy dig dang dang

Go back to urban nam