Kurt Cobain discussed a variety of topics, ranging from condemning sexism to wondering if he was gay, in an interview with British journalist Jon Savage for a profile that ran in The Observer in 1993. Now, over two decades after that feature ran, PBS has hilariously animated a portion of that interview for its Blank on Blank series, which has given a similar treatment to artists like Beastie Boys, Janis Joplin and Ray Charles.
The clip begins with Cobain talking about how awkward he felt in high school and then moves into family life, as he admits that he didn’t know his family name was Irish until after he had already played in the city his surname hailed from. Quizzically, he said he’d even resorted to calling “Coburns” in phonebooks throughout America. The rest of the video finds Cobain discussing his stomach issues, his disappointment in the lyrics of Aerosmith and Led Zeppelin and how he found some spiritual solace after marrying and having a child with Courtney Love, among other subjects. Throughout the video, snippets of Nirvana songs play stitch together the narrative.
It starts with a beat. Just one, before a woman begins singing over a simple rhythm about a hopeless case and a resolve to love. Then comes another voice and horns — harmonizing, swelling, building. A full minute goes by before “Sonsick” practically explodes in a burst of musical euphoria and lyrical heartbreak. The stop-you-in-your-tracks song is by San Fermin, and it’s irresistible. The voices belong to singers Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig, who lead another rising Brooklyn band in Lucius. San Fermin is the brainchild of Yale composition grad Ellis Ludwig-Leone, who recruited Wolfe and Laessig to help bring his project to fruition. While “Sonsick” infuses its indie-rock sound with classical flourishes, you don’t need a trained ear to be knocked out by its epic beauty. Just as quickly as you’re swept up by the fanfare, everything falls away, leaving nothing but a few piano chords and that voice, resolving to love.
Tracey Ullman: “I Don’t Want Our Loving to Die” (1984)
Saccharine Alert! Tracey Ullman’s two mid-80’s albums may be too sweet for some, but for fans of bubblegum or 60’s girl group pop they are a treasure.
Despite Ullman’s dismissive attitude toward her short-lived career as a pop star, this may be the finest retro girl pop ever produced, making stuff by latter-day practitioners such as She & Him seem pale and watered-down by comparison. The first key element is the material: well-chosen, fairly obscure oldies mixed with more contemporary material by sympathetic writers such as titanic talent Kirsty MacColl. Then there’s the sparkling production, which takes the elements that made the original girl-group stuff so great and pushes it all over the top.
“I Don’t Want Our Loving to Die” was originally recorded by Peter Frampton’s pre-Humble Pie band The Herd (Pete’s at right in the below photo). Compare their version to Ullman’s and decide for yourself who sells the song more effectively. Even Tracey’s grunt (17 seconds in) trumps the boys. In fact it might just be the best girl singer grunt of all time.
I have a weird relationship with Jack Johnson. I warmed very slowly to his laid-back acoustic surfer pop–or whatever it is–till a few albums into his career. After buying this 2005 album mainly because I was being asked to play “Banana Pancakes” at weddings, it sat on a pile of CDs on my desk for months before I actually forced myself to listen to it all the way through. Turns out the bad taste that “Banana Pancakes” had left in my mouth was at least somewhat misleading.
Although much of what he does still doesn’t light me up, certain of his songs knock me out. I think his 2010 album To the Sea is terrific, possessing hooks sharper than on previous albums. And “Never Know” just has an effortless-sounding cool about it. As if, unlike “Banana Pancakes”, this song isn’t trying so hard to get me to like it. Or something.
That Paul McCartney guy…not only was he part of the number two pop singles act of the rock and roll era (the Beatles trail only Elvis) but his solo work alone racked up enough singles success to rank him at the number sixteen position. He has so many hits that none of his Best-of collections have done even a decent job of collecting them all (and he’s probably the most significant artist not to have released a true career-spanning box set). Thus music buyers of more recent eras who haven’t collected the individual albums along the way will have some significant gaps in their collections.
Actually, many of his 1970’s hits weren’t even included on albums, making it infuriatingly difficult to find them until remastered import CDs appeared with these singles included as bonus tracks.
Let’s take a little tour of Mac’s dustier hits and see how many you remember…
1. “Give Ireland Back to the Irish” (#21 in 1972)
People tend to forget that Lennon wasn’t the only solo Beatle to get topical and court controversy.
Written in response to the events of Bloody Sunday in Northern Ireland in 1972, this divisive ditty was banned from all UK media outlets. Despite the complete lack of airplay it still rose to number 16 in the British charts. It was a number one hit in the Republic of Ireland (go figure), while it got Wings guitarist Henry McCullough’s brother beaten up by thugs in Northern Ireland when they found out Henry was in the band.
2. “Mary Had a Little Lamb” (#28 in 1972)
Wings’ next single was the polar opposite of its predecessor–about as innocuous a pop song gets.
3. “Hi, Hi, Hi” (#10 in 1973)
Oops. Controversy again. Banned by the Beeb for its lyrical content. They not only assumed “we’re gonna get hi, hi, hi” was a drug reference (a safe bet knowing Paul’s habits at the time) but objected to the sexual content i.e. lines like “get you ready for my body gun”. Paul insisted the correct lyric was “get you ready for my polygon” and that he was going for an abstract image. Not convincing.
Again the BBC’s banning didn’t hurt and might have helped. The song charted at number 5 in the UK.
4. “Sally G” (#17 in 1975)
Paul goes country. This B-side to “Junior’s Farm” (neither song appeared on an album at the time) went top twenty in its own right. Recorded in Nashville with local backing musicians adding to the country vibe, this song actually charted at #51 on the country singles chart in addition to its top twenty pop placing.
5. “Letting Go” (#39 in 1975)
This one’s long forgotten.
Honestly I have no recollection of this rather heavy-sounding 1975 hit. But it did scrape the top forty. And its vibe is fairly unique among his single releases. If you don’t remember it, give it a few listens and it’ll creep under your skin.
6. “Venus and Mars/Rock Show” (#12 in 1975)
Despite leading off both his 1975 Venus and Mars album and the live Wings Over America LP of the next year, this one’s fairly forgotten in terms of latter-day radio airplay, thanks to the tendency of oldies formats to retain some of an artist’s hits (mainly the top tens) and shun others. I’ve complained about this syndrome ad nauseam in other posts.
7. “Girls’ School” (#33 in 1978)
Here’s a mind-blowing fact to help remind you that it’s a whole different world across the pond: This song was released as a double A-side in the UK along with “Mull of Kintyre” and was McCartney’s only number one single in that country in the entire decade of the 1970’s. During that time, America sent no fewer than six of his songs to the top spot (“Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey”, “My Love”, “Band on the Run”, “Listen to What the Man Said”, “Silly Love Songs” and “With a Little Luck”.)
Interestingly, “Mull of Kintyre”, despite its status as a radio staple, never actually made the pop charts in America, although it did hit #45 on the Easy Listening chart. In other words, a song that never made the top 40 is much more familiar to Americans than any of these songs that did.
8. “I’ve Had Enough” (#25 in 1978)
“With a Little Luck” was the number one smash from 1978’s London Town album, but the LP also spawned two less successful follow-up hits. The first is this rather feisty (for Paul) rant.
9. “London Town” (#39 in 1978)
The title track is a pleasant thing, and pretty much lost to history.
10. “Getting Closer” (#20 in 1979)
One of McCartney’s finest and most propulsive pop rock songs. It surprises me this one’s never been included on any of his greatest hits compilations. It almost has a “Live and Let Die” feel to its instrumental coda.
11. “Arrow Through Me” (#29 in 1979)
This one’s really gotten dusty. But it’s a great listen. The horn charts are Stevie Wonderesque.
12. “So Bad” (#23 in 1984)
Criminally overlooked, this one. I think it’s one of the true lost gems of McCartney’s catalogue. From 1983’s Pipes of Peace and re-recorded for 1984’s Give My Regards to Broad Street (also lovely). This was the follow-up single to “Say Say Say”, which was so bad.
13. “Spies Like Us” (#7 in 1986)
This uber-80’s sounding title song from the Chevy Chase/Dan Aykroyd film sounds like something Robert Palmer (wisely) left off one of this albums. I’m not a fan. And it’s too long. And it’s really stupid. I should have mentioned at the outset that there are a few here I don’t actually mind being forgotten.
14. “Press” (#21 in 1986)
Another not-so-stellar moment in a stellar career. Not awful. Just not representative of one of pop’s greatest living songwriters.
No one can sing a sad song like Linda Thompson. And no one can write one like her one-time husband Richard.
It’s not that they were stylistic one-trick ponies: their albums showed them to be quite adept at political, comical or satirical material. And all resonated with a trademark passion and authenticity, and each brimmed with the tasteful guitar work of one of the instrument’s true masters.
But it’s the tear-jerkers that seem to stay with you once the needle hits the end groove–or what have you.
Every Moment Has A Song 