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Certain Songs

Certain Songs #64: Sonic Youth – “Skip Tracer”

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Album: Washing Machine
Year: 1995

. . .

“HELLO, 2015!”

“HELLO … 20 …15!!!”

That’s what Lee Renaldo shouts at the end of this spoken-word piece with guitars, bass and drums near the end of Sonic Youth’s last universally acclaimed album.  It’s not really about the future, but rather about seeing a band stumble through a live performance. But, to me, that “Hello, 2015” felt like a declaration of purpose.

Here’s what I wrote about it with my very first Pazz & Jop critics poll ballot in 1995:

“Hello 2015!” Lee Ranaldo screams, somewhat optimistically, near the end of this record, just before they launch us on a sparkling sailing voyage towards that very year.

It’s like, for the first time, they’ve really considered their place in our past and, more importantly, in their future. And they like what they see. And if they keep making records this strong and loose, they just might meet themselves on the other side.

In 1995, when Washing Machine came out, 2015 seemed an impossible distance away. Another century, another millennium, another universe. And yet, out of all of the bands active in 1995, I was sure that Sonic Youth was going to be one of the ones still standing here on New Years Day 2015 and shout back “Hello, 1995” as they did an All Tomorrows Parties set of Washing Machine in its entirety.

Meanwhile, 1995 still seems impossibly close, like if I turned around and walked around that corner over there, I’d be able to say hello to it. For much of 1995 I was living in Oakland and Rox was living in Hollywood, and – just like Ranaldo points out earlier in the song – LA was the most confusing place I’d ever been to.

Of course, little did I know 20 years ago that by the time 2015 rolled around, I’d have been living here for over 13 years, with that initial confusion (you drive SOUTH to get to the ocean?) long since dissipated. 

So hello, 2015. Please be better.

“Skip Tracer”

Certain Songs #63: Black Sabbath – “Symptom of the Universe”

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Album: Sabotage
Year: 1975

While Paranoid is generally considered the greatest Black Sabbath album, and Master of Reality is often cited as the most inflential, my favorite Sabbath album has long been their 6th album, the eternally underrated Sabotage.  And my favorite track on Sabotage – quite possibly my favorite Sabbath song ever – is “Symptom of the Universe.”

Anchored by maybe the last of the classic early Iommi riffs (filled to the brim by Geezer Butler’s bass, natch), “Symptom of the Universe” comes chugging out of the gate even faster than “Paranoid,” with plenty of space for Bill Ward to remind contemporaries like Ian Paice (and warn newbies like Neal Peart) that he knows his way around a drum fill. And Ozzy has never sounded better as he’s screaming “a symptom of the universe is written in your eyes!!”

Pure speed. Pure power. Pure Sabbath.  

But then, after one of those Iommi guitar solos that sounds like angry hornets suddenly attacking from out of the sunshine – the song suddenly changes into an acoustic guitar jam not unlike the one at the end of the Rolling Stones “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.” Nary an electric guitar is heard again, instead, it’s 666 overdubbed acoustic Tony Iommis all playing off of each other

In no way, shape or form should this ending work after the proto thrash metal that started the song, and yet it does, working as a chill room for anybody overwhelmed by the first part of the song.

No speed. Hidden power. Pure Sabbath.

Video for “Symptom of the Universe”

My Certain Songs Spotify Playlist:

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #62: Black Sabbath – “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath”

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Album: Sabbath Bloody Sabbath
Year: 1973

It’s weird: I’m discovering that my favorite Black Sabbath songs are so ingrained in me, I’m having trouble figuring out what to say about them. Like for example, “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.”  

Do I point out that’s one of their great multi-part songs? Do I walk you through how it starts with a typically doomy multi-part riff in the verses before dropping into an acoustic chorus? And that it features a relatively organic Iommi solo prior to becoming a completely different song?  And that at the end, it changes again, with a nearly-psychedelic storm of guitars, some of which might even be backwards?

Or do I point out that because it was their fifth album in a little under 4 years, the strain is definitely beginning to show, especially on Ozzy’s voice? So much so that you can practically see him straining to hit the notes he hears in his head when he sings “Whe-aaairrrr can you run to?”

Maybe I’ll just I point out that it doesn’t matter, because I simply love how Ozzy screams “You BASTARDS!!!!” just before Iommi’s solo? For sure should  point out that for nearly 40 years I’ve been playing this song just to hear Ozzy sing:

Sabbath, bloody sabbath
Nothing more to do
Living just for dying
Dying just for you
Yeah!!

… which is followed by one last amazing Iommi riff that would power an entire song by a lesser band before jumping into that nearly-psychedelic coda?

Video for “Sabbath Bloody Sabbath”

My Certain Songs Spotify Playlist:

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #61: Black Sabbath – “Paranoid”

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Album: Paranoid
Year: 1970

Contrary to popular mythology, it is my firm belief that Black Sabbath’s overarching lyrical theme wasn’t really Satan or whatever ( :: makes devil horns ::), but rather, mental health. Especially the type of mental health issues where the sufferer is continually worried about their sanity.

Since neither Ozzy (or Geezer Butler, who wrote a ton of the lyrics) could ever be mistaken for subtle, it’s right there in song after song:  "Fairies Wear Boots,“ "Am I Going Insane,” “Megalomania,” and of course, their most popular song, the actual world-wide hit single “Paranoid.”  

Anchored by a speedy, bass-filled repeating riff, with drummer Bill Ward heavying it up by lagging behind the beat, “Paranoid” is the musical and lyrical link between Led Zeppelin and the Ramones, and – unlike most great Black Sabbath songs – short, simple and to the point.

“Paranoid” performed in 1970

My Certain Songs Spotify Playlist:

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #60: Black Sabbath – “War Pigs”

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Album: Paranoid
Year: 1970

At some point in the mid-1970s, I became friends with a guy who lived across the street from me. He was a few years older than me, already at Fresno State while I was just entering high school. And while he was a totally normal, short-haired accounting major who was incredibly athletic and never did drugs, he was also a total metal head. And by far and away, his favorite band was Black Sabbath.

And because of his influence, one of the earliest albums I ever purchased was the two-disc Sabbath compilation We Sold Our Soul for Rock ‘n’ Roll, which was a near-perfect (give or take a “Laguna Sunrise”) cherry-picking from their first six albums and still a helluva introduction one of the greatest and most influential bands of the 1970s,

And if I was forced to distill Black Sabbath down to a single song (which I wouldn’t recommend, of course), I would pick “War Pigs.”  Nearly everything that made them great is here: big doomy riffs chock full of Geezer Butler’s world-filling bass; Bill Ward jazzily barreling himself through tricky multiple parts; Tony Iommi’s guitar solos appearing from thin air; and of course, the eternally underrated Ozzy Osbourne, who somehow gets away with rhyming “masses” with “masses.”

Unlike their contemporaries and competitors in Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin, who left plenty of room even the studio for improvisation, Black Sabbath’s best songs always felt well-thought out, with every note and beat in place, right down to the multiple overdubbed guitar solos.

“War Pigs” Performed Live at California Jam, 1974

My Certain Songs Spotify Playlist:

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #59: The Black Crowes – “Hotel Illness”

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Album: The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion.

Year: 1992.

Mannnn, I hated the Black Crowes when they came out. Shake Your Moneymaker was a huge huge record in 1990, and its huge popularity vis-a-vis what I saw as its complete derivativeness  (derivativity?) rubbed me the wrong way. They were being held up as the standard-bearer of rock & roll, and in my eyes, they clearly weren’t, even in what was an admittedly down period.

Here’s a typical drunken rant at a Sedan Delivery rehearsal that was caught on tape:

“But the thing I don’t understand, I’ve seen two articles in the last week bringing up the Black Crowes as the Last Rock & Roll Band, and then dissing ‘em!!! Because they know they SUCK! They know that in terms of advancing rock & roll, which any rock & roll band should try, at least try to do, because they’re not doing anything new!! And that’s the point! The point is that they’re saying that this is IT!! This is the BEST that rock & roll can do!”

I didn’t believe that then, of course — there was plenty of great rock & roll being made in 1990, and 1991 would prove to be my favorite year in music ever — but nearly a quarter-century later, with rock & roll essentially dead as a popular art form, the Black Crowes are still at it, and I now see the Robinson brothers as true believers doing what they love instead pretenders making a quick buck.

The long road from that initial contempt to at least a grudging respect started when — based upon some good reviews — I took a flyer and bought a used copy of The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion at Ragin’ and felt the shock of recognition hearing the chord changes of “Hotel Illness.”

It’s just that simple: “Hotel Illness” targets my Rolling Stones’ based pleasure center like Oliver Queen on a tear, and I can’t imagine myself not liking a song like this  And since one of my cardinal rules is that I even an artist I completely hate can make a song I completely love, I was forced to admit that maybe I was initially wrong about them.

The Black Crowes performing “Hotel Illness” in Houston, 1993

My Certain Songs Spotify Playlist:

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #58: The Tryfles – “Gloria (In Excelsis DEO)”

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Album: A Midnight Xmas Mess
Year: 1984

This just might be my favorite Christmas song. Found only on an obscure Christmas compilation from a mid-1980s indie label, The Tryfles “Gloria (In Excelsis DEO)” was both decades ahead of its time and a quintessential  1960s garage-rock jam.

Basically, it’s what you kids would call a “mash-up.” But rather than taking two existing recordings and using computer wizardry to join them together into a somewhat coherent whole, The Tryfles are playing the ancient hymn “Angels We Have Heard on High” (AKA “Gloria”) at the same time as they are playing the modern spiritual “Gloria” by the Irish songwriter poet Van Morrison.  

The results are SPECTACULAR.

There is absolutely nothing in the world like hearing “Angels We Have Heard On High” sung by an “angelic” choir over the familiar “Gloria” riff. 

And the chorus is even better — a call-and-response between the garagey lead singer and the “angelic” choir.

Gloria! G-L-O-R-I-A
In excelsis Deo!
Gloria! G-L-O-R-I-A
In excelsis Deo!

Naturally, I played the hell out of this on KFSR every Christmas, but was lost for to me for much of the 1990s. Luckily, the internet brought it back into my life a few years ago – a Christmas miracle! – and I’ll be bugging people to hear it until the end of my days.

“Gloria (in Excelsis DEO)”

Certain Songs #57: Vince Guaraldi Trio – “Linus and Lucy”

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Album: A Charlie Brown Christmas.

Year: 1964.

The music geek in me – the guy who does research on every song he posts – wants you to know that this song predates 1965’s A Charlie Brown Christmas, having been released in 1964 on a record called Jazz Impressions of A Boy Named Charlie Brown.

Not to mention that “Linus and Lucy” has showed up in several other “Peanuts” special and is probably known more as “The Charlie Brown Theme” than its actual title. (So it’s like the “Baba O’Riley” of the “Peanuts” universe.)

And finally, musically, “Linus and Lucy” has absolutely nothing to do with any kind of Christmas-oriented music in any way, shape or form. It’s straight up piano J-A-Z-Z jazz, with maybe a bit of bossanova underneath Guaraldi’s first solo.

However, the music lover in me – the guy who lives (barely) in the real world – knows that none of that matters. As far as the real world is concerned “Linus and Lucy” has been forever transmogrified into Christmas music. Over the years, it’s even come to overshadow the obvious single “Christmas Time is Here Again"  (which, ironically, became the music underpinning a running joke about sadness on Arrested Development.)

Oh, and it’s my firm belief that that bluesy stop-time part that happens 35 seconds in (and never again in the actual song) is quite possibly the most beloved musical moment in all of history. Tough luck, Beethoven and The Beatles.

Fan-made video looping the "Charlie Brown Christmas Dance” set to “Linus & Lucy”

My Certain Songs Spotify Playlist:

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #56: Billy Bragg – “Ingrid Bergman”

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Album: Mermaid Avenue

Year: 1998.

I know that the album is credited to “Billy Bragg & Wilco,” but “Ingrid Bergman” is pure Billy Bragg. Well, musically & vocally. Lyrically, of course, it’s pure Woody Guthrie.

And out of all of the myth-deconstructing that came out of the Mermaid Avenue albums, the absolute best of all was that this remote and legendary figure – the guy who inspired Bob Dylan, inscribed “This machine kills fascists” on his guitar like a proto punk, and wrote the best of our alternate national anthems – once wrote lyrics about how much he wanted to fuck a popular film star.

Ingrid Bergman, you’re so perty
You’d make any mountain quiver
You’d make fire fly from the crater
Ingrid Bergman
This old mountain it’s been waiting
All its life for you to work it
For your hand to touch its hard rock
Ingrid Bergman
Ingrid Bergman
The inspiration for this song (and the source of the double-entendres that fuel it) was the affair that Ingrid Bergman and Roberto Rosselini had while making the film Stromboli on the island of Stromboli. And I guess when they got together, it was a scandal, but with the perspective of hindsight, how could anything that produced Isabella Rosselini possibly be bad?
Fan-made video for “Ingrid Bergman”

My Certain Songs Spotify Playlist:

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #55: Billy Bragg – “Walk Away Renee (Version)”

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B-side, 1986.

One of the B-sides of the 12" of “Levi Stubbs’ Tears”  I bought in 1986, Billy Bragg’s version of “Walk Away Renee” is a basically a spoken-word-with-guitar piece about a short relationship. 

It begins with a great, sad joke:

She said, “It was just a figment of speech.”

And I said, “you mean ‘figure.’”

And she said, “no, ’:figment,’” because she could never imagine it happening.

But it did.

And the rest of the song is Billy describing the entire arc of the relationship while Johnny Marr plays an exquisite instrumental version of “Walk Away Renee” on acoustic guitar.

At one point, there’s a great pun on “eligible” & “illegible” that’s impossible to put into words, and at the end, Billy moves on.

It’s positioned as a b-side throwaway cover, but it completely resonated with me in 1986. In its own small way, I think it’s as moving and profound as anything he’s ever written, including the classic A-side.

Fan-made video for “Walk Away Renee" 

My Certain Songs Spotify Playlist:

Every "Certain Song” Ever