Being what I consider a huge Beatles fan (I've heard/have all of their albums -
Rubber Soul onward at least - and can't really name a Beatles song I don't like, even if just a little bit... though there are a few I don't care for too much: "Octopus's Garden", "Yellow Submarine", "What Goes On", and most of
Let It Be.... But with those qualms aside, I can safely say that The Beatles are my favorite band), it's surprising (well, not really...) that I have never heard this before. And never being one to search out rare recordings or demos (I always find them to be sub-par and not as good/tight as the originals, which is the case with most of this
Anthology 3 CD I got from the libray the other day, ignoring the discreet warning from Juan: [showing him the CD] "Hey, have you heard this before?" "Yeah, it's actually kind of annoying...." "Oh."), it's also surprising (again: well, not really...) that I enjoy this song as much as I do.
It's written by Paul McCartney, who happens to
not be my favorite Beatle (though he did write some beautiful songs, this one included, and he definitely beats out Ringo...).
[At this point in the writing I did some more, extensive research on the song, to make sure I didn't misrepresent any of the facts, and it turns out that this song showed up on Paul McCartney's first solo album,
McCartney. While I'm excited to know I can hear a finished version of this song, I am also nervous as to whether or not it will ruin the original feeling that I got from hearing this rough demo version: a feeling that I have yet to even put into words. And, while I'm at it, making asides and whatnot, digressions even..., let me say that reading
Seymour An Introduction greatly influences my writing style, for better or worse. And oh yeah: does anyone actually like
any of McCartney's solo albums?]
Anyways:
This song brings a hush to my world, silencing the thoughts which constantly run rampant inside my head. Air rushes out of my lungs and every thing I look at holds some kind of aesthetic meaning that I cannot place. To say that it moves me would be an extreme understatement; this song throws me into a darkened basement and locks me there until I can't breathe anymore, staring into the Abyss of Loss.
There are so many little nuances here: nineteen seconds in someone singing backing vocals (Lennon?) laughs (or cries maybe? ...hopefully?) out loud - that part always gets me. McCartney's voise is so frail-sounding throughout (what could have brought him to sing so emotionally, I wonder?). The feedback that is fleetingly heard (unintentionally, I assume... I think that much is obvious) at 1:23 is fitting as well, eventhough it is a rough demo and it doesn't really add any special dimension to the song other than to make it even more personal to me, somehow. Can you imagine Paul McCartney in my room, sitting on my bed, playing an amped acoustic guitar next to John Lennon, singing back-up and laughing at McCartney's sincerity early on then realizing that
this is serious, both of them ignoring the constant hissing of the snakes under my bed, and outside, in my yard...?
***
Viking Moses -
"In Servitude"There's despondency in that heavy electric guitar, and sadness present within Brendon Massei's disguised soft-speak and guttural wails (they both represent the same thing, but are different, somehow, in my mind: they're separate incarnations of the same feeling, expressed uniquely by instrument and human).
[I think "In Servitude" kind of ties the next song and the previous one together; it contains the major aspects of both songs.]
***
Man Man -
"Engrish Bwudd"My first exposure to this insane group of men came at the recommendation of a friend of mine, who happens to be way into Animal Collective and Coco Rosie (both of which, if anything, sound very distinct and interesting; I dig them), so I thought Man Man would be right up my alley, especially after reading a few glowing reviews of their latest album,
Six Demon Bag. Upon first listen, though, I came to the conclusion that their carnival sounds and organ-filled freak-outs were just not for me: I didn't find any feeling in it, other than their apparent desire to make as much inane noise as possible, with various, weird instruments and their own deep, gurgling voices. I also thought they were completely ripping off Captain Beefheart, and that kind of turned me off as well, as I never could really get into his stuff either (though that is growing on me).
This all magically changed when I saw them play at the Pitchfork Music Festival a few weekends back. All those crazy sounds, which I originally thought to be kind of silly, came off so naturally and I really got into the music, dancing maniacally and staring into the clouds and sweating everywhere due to the one hundred degree heat, my shoulders turning a crispy brown. It was an experience like no other (granted it wasn't all due to their performance, but it all sure fit nicely, no matter how uncomfortable I was afterwards while attempting to sleep in an un-air-conditioned room, sunburned and perspired); see them live, and you'll understand.... The band-members were tossing rainbow-colored feathers into the air, banging pots and pans, jumping up and down out of their seats, making weird but joyous faces at the crowd and each other, and even throwing eating utensils (forks, spoons, knives, etc.) into tin bowls filled with water. I was blown away by the sheer exuberance with which they performed. They truly belonged in a circus - one of those travelling ones, where they have a train-like carriage pulled by giant white steeds, jewel-encrusted saddles adorned them... separate cars hold all the different acts, animals, etc., all attached and moving rapidly down a desert road, kicking up dust that blocks out the sun (
that would be the day...). And there Man Man would be, in the last car, screaming their heads off in a cage bursting with inanimate objects and childish whimsy.
***
Yes, I read reviews, and yes, I sometimes take them seriously. And yes, I read
this review, and yes, I took it seriously and visited
this website to download some tracks. And yes, I liked them, and yes, I want to hear more. And yes, I have no cash, and yes, I'm not scared of the RIAA and would take an illegal, bootlegged copy if someone would like to provide me with one. And yes, I do appreciate an artist who puts time into making a decent record (at least), and yes, I would take a free, legit copy of this album if the artist or the label would like to contact me and send me one, taking into consideration I am now a poor, unemployed College Kid with middle-class parents who have mortgages to pay and don't really give a fuck about buying me albums, thanks. And yes, this album was made by Ariel Pink's buddy, John Maus, and yes, it's titled
Songs.
That photograph at the top was taken by my mother tonight in the midst of a lightning storm, and I thought it looked rather nice, so I put it here, eventhough it has no relevance whatsoever to anything. (
Kill All Artists is a family affair, even if no one realizes it to be so or sees through my lies.)
I hope this post makes up for my nearly two month absence. Juan's still around, though, starting a new year of high school tomorrow. And the ever-enigmatic Kris moved to Gainesville - seems to be the thing to do these days,
these days.
I seem to think a lot about how all the changes came about my ways (to paraphrase Nico).
C'est la vie.
