"There's a time in life for Hoagy Carmichael. There's a time in life for Claude Debussy. There's a time in life for Jerry Lee Lewis. There's a time in life for Destiny's Child. All these things have their moment." ~Elvis Costello
When the Average White Band moved from the MCA record label to Atlantic in the early 70’s, they brought with them the master tapes of their second album, which MCA had opted not to release.
Jerry Wexler was eager to sign the band to Atlantic, but thought the rejected album needed a tweak before he released it on his label. The band and producer Arif Mardin replaced a couple tunes with stronger ones. They also re-worked other tracks to bolster commercial appeal.
One of these was “Got the Love”, and its two versions make the perfect case for why a song which starts with a chorus can often draw a listener in more effectively.
Listen to the earlier version of the song:
Despite a relatively irresistible white-boys-on-funk intro, the song takes about 1:12 to get to its chorus hook.
The re-recorded version, released on their #1 AWB album in 1974, gets to that hook within 20 seconds, and by 1:12 you’re hearing it for a second time.
A good songwriter–or producer–will know when and when not to come out of the gate with a chorus instead of setting it up with a verse or two. Once you start listening for such songs, you’ll find that there are plenty of examples in all genres. Here are a few that come to mind:
The above image is thought to be what Michael Jackson would have looked like at age 50 without surgery, extrapolated by experts using childhood photos.
The below article appeared on the UK Daily Mail site on August 28, 2008, less than a year prior to Michael Jackson’s death. It carries additional impact with the perspective of subsequent events (i.e. Jackson was preparing his This is It comeback concert series at the time of his death).
In one sense, Jackson wasn’t quite finished as a performer after all. In another, he was closer to the end than even the writer imagined.
by J Randy Taraborrelli for MailOnline
A middle-aged man wearing pyjamas is being pushed in a wheelchair down a sidewalk by an assistant. He is gaunt and frail-looking. His skin seems to be peeling. His fingernails are a sickening shade of yellow-brown.
Beneath a red Marines baseball cap a surgical mask is visible, covering the bottom half of his face. A pair of large sunglasses shield the top.
Three children walk ahead – two boys and a girl. All seem happy and look adorable in colourful clothing. Their baseball caps do not seem a deliberate attempt to shield their faces.
‘Slow down,’ the man commands in a hoarse whisper, but the children ignore him and quickly cross the street to stand in front of a bookshop.
When the man in the wheelchair finally catches up, one of the children dutifully holds the door open as he is wheeled inside.
‘Thank you,’ he mutters weakly. All seems calm, but then – just as the children are about to follow the man into the shop – a stranger approaches the smallest of them.
‘Was that…?’ she begins to ask. The boy is about to answer, when a large man steps between them.
‘No. That was not,’ he says, taking the boy by the hand and rushing him inside. But, just before the door swings closed, the young boy turns to his inquisitor, smiles broadly and mouths just two words: Michael Jackson.
Welcome to the very sad world of Wacko Jacko. The scene I’ve just described is typical of what goes on in his life almost every day in Las Vegas, Nevada, where he now resides…
From Barcelona, Spain come Tolkien gateway drug Narsilion. Their particular brand of neoclassical ambient folk has been labeled Darkwave by whatever entity is responsible for the nomenclature of music’s multitudinous classifications.
Ethereal and medieval-sounding, Narsilion may appeal to fans of Enya, Loreena McKennit or possibly Blackmore’s Night. However their music generally lacks Enya’s cohesive, populist songwriting, McKennit’s traditional rootedness or Ritchie Blackmore’s guitar wizardry.
Still, there is wizardry here of another sort. If you have a penchant for songs about elves, unicorns and autumnal equinoxes, pour a flagon of mead, sit back and enjoy the musical reverie.
Ricky Gervais, host of this year’s Golden Globe Awards, is the comedic writer and actor who created, among other stellar TV shows, the original British The Office documentary-style sitcom, which in turn spawned 9 seasons of an American cash in adaptation.
But few fans on this side of the pond (or probably on the other, for that matter) realize he was a failed 80’s would-be pop star.
In 1983, while attending University College of London Gervais and friend Bill Macrae formed Bowie-esque synth duo Seona Dancing and released two singles on London Records.
The group split in 1984 after neither “More to Lose” or “Bitter Heart” cracked the British top 40.
But then something weird happened. According to Wikipedia:
In 1985, DWRT-FM (then known as 99.5 RT, now 99.5 Play FM), a radio station in Metro Manila, Philippines, started playing a song billed as “Fade” by Medium (also billed as “Medium” by Fade). DWRT-FM deliberately misnamed the artist and song title to prevent anyone from finding the record and playing it themselves. Additionally, to stop other radio stations from recording it and playing it, DWRT-FM inserted a station ID midway through the track. A year later, another radio station, DWXB-102, revealed the true identity of the song as “More to Lose” by Seona Dancing.[1]
The song, which utilises an opening piano riff to convey the sound of falling teardrops, became a major radio and club hit as well as a favourite at high-school dances during the 1980s and beyond. AllMusic critic Michael Sutton wrote that the track was “the theme song of angst-ridden New Wave youths in the Philippines” and “an ’80s anthem as ubiquitous as Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes’, but with the eternal hipster cool of Joy Division’s ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’.”
And as for “Bitter Heart”, despite its poor showing as a pop single it too had a second life of sorts.
Fans of the original Office may remember David Brent’s ridiculous dance, when he “sort of fused Flashdance with MC Hammer shit”. But the accompaniment seems to be the riff from none other than “Bitter Heart”.
After the demise of Seona Dancing, Gervais managed other pop bands in the late 80’s for a spell before landing on London’s alternative XFM radio station, where he met and hosted a Saturday afternoon radio show with Stephen Merchant, with whom he co-wrote and directed the work for which he’s best known, The Office, which has been remade in Sweden, France, Germany, Quebec, Brazil and, of course, the United States.
But if you’ve never seen the original with Gervais himself playing the part of obnoxious and delusional boss David Brent, do check it out.
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