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Certain Songs

Certain Songs #34: The Beatles – “Hello Goodbye”

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Single, 1967.

You say goodbye

Immediately and forever dismissed as a trifle – I mean it was overshadowed by its own b-side! – when compared to the titanic accomplishments of The Beatles in 1967, “Hello Goodbye” is a song for which I have no good defense loving as much as I do.

I say hello

Therefore, I blame Sir Paul McCartney’s impeccable popcraft for winnowing this song insidiously into my head, and would like to point out that while the 1966 Beatles is clearly one of my favorite things ever, my heart has never been deep into their 1967 music.

You say goodbye

And I also blame Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Well, not the album, which, you know is Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, but rather the fact that it has been lionized as THE GREATEST MUSIC THAT ANYBODY HAS EVER DONE OR WILL EVER DO WORLD WITHOUT END AMEN for my entire life and I’ve never once agreed with that sentiment. I mean, I’ve never even thought it was the best Beatles album, for fuck’s sake.

I say hello

So that means while I’ve enjoyed and acknowledged the greatness of songs like “A Day in The Life” or “Strawberry Fields Forever” or “I Am The Walrus,” etc. maybe I’m subconsciously punishing them by being contrary and not loving them as much as conventional wisdom says I should.

You say goodbye

On the other hand, free of dealing with “Hello Goodbye” on anything but the level of just a pop song – my default preference – it turns out that I can listen to it endlessly hello goodbye hello goodbye hello goodbye hello goodbye.

I say hello

So in other words, the reason this has always been slagged – it’s lightweight, just wordplay, and nothing more than a great hook, but certainly NOT ART – is the reason I love it.

Aloha!

Official video for “Hello Goodbye”

Certain Songs: The Beatles – “She Said She Said”

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Album: Revolver
Year: 1966

This fucking thing. The beautiful fucking thing.

There is an entire lifetime between the initial “She said” … “I know what it’s like to be dead.” Or an entire deathtime, I guess. It’s one of the most beautiful uses of negative space in all of popular music.

I know that “Tomorrow Never Knows” is the more formal experiment on Revolver, the song on which Mad Men spent a zillion dollars to once and for all to show us the audience that former King of the World Don Draper was now old and out of it. And no doubt it – and all of Revolver – is a major achievement.

But I said …

…

…

…

…

…  

"She Said She Said" is pretty damn close to my most favorite song in the universe, combining the trippy drums of “Rain,” the tough guitar of “Paperback,” that infinite edge-of-consciousness organ, and maybe the best lyrics John Lennon ever put on paper.

What it’s like to be dead, what it is to be sad, and making no distinction, so that sadness is the same as death. And death is like having never been born.

Of course, it could just be the drugs, because when I was a boy, I never even thought about this shit. Or maybe I’m just lying to myself.

“She Said She Said”

Certain Songs #33: The Beatles – “Rain”

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B-side, 1966.

The other half of my favorite Beatles 45 may or may not be the first psychedelic song, but with the shimmering guitar, unpredictable bass, backwards vocals and good god, Ringo Starr on the drums, it’s always been one of the greatest. 

Did I mention Ringo? I can’t believe that it’s still a trope – shit, I can’t believe it was ever a trope – that Ringo was a shit drummer, but if you ever run across someone who believes that, just play them his fills as they come out of the second verse and he’s somehow falling apart and coming together all at the same time. Like a sunshower.

And the bit at the end, where he and Paul are starting and stopping in unison just before the backwards vocals – I envision them locking eyes in the studio, each one daring the other one to fuck this up, but breaking down in laughter when one of the them did – is quite possibly my favorite musical bit in all of Beatledom.

Official promo video for “Rain”

And as a bonus, here’s a version Blackbird Stories (with help from Scott Oliver & Nate Butler!) recorded at a drunken party in 1988 with me playing the drums. It’s the exact opposite of good.

My Certain Songs Playlist on Spotify

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #31: The Beatles – “Paperback Writer”

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Single, 1966.

Conventional rock & roll wisdom states that the greatest 45 ever made was “Strawberry Field Fields Forever / Penny Lane,” but I say that isn’t even the greatest 45 that The Beatles ever made. This is.

In 1966, The Beatles were fucking insane. “Paperback Writer,” written and recorded around the same time as Revolver, combines the tough guitar riffs that The Rolling Stones & The Who were sporting with the multi-arranged harmonies that the Beach Boys and the Byrds were showcasing.

Oh, and it also happens to be the song that inspired the title of the greatest (and funniest) book ever written about The Beatles, Mark Shipper’s 1978 faux-history “Paperback Writer.”

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Seriously, out of all of the parodies of story of the Beatles over the years, this is the best (though, admittedly, it lacks Eric Idle’s and Neil Innes’ songwriting chops), full of wonderful invented history (the song they wrote with Dylan!) silly running gags, and positing that they would get back together within a decade after they broke up. The chapter on the Beatles reunion is particularly poignant in light of subsequent events.

Good luck trying to find it, though: it’s been out of print forever, existing as at most a footnote when it comes to the massive volume of books written on the band. 

Anyways, “Paperback Writer” is my favorite kind of Beatles song: big riffs, amazing bass and/or drum parts, awesome harmonies, and lyrics that tell some kind of story (though, given that they’re Paul’s lyrics, kind of a silly story).

Official Video for “Paperback Writer”

My Certain Songs Playlist on Spotify

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #30: The Beatles – “A Hard Days Night”

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Album: A Hard Day’s Night
Year: 1964.

With George Harrison’s iconic Rickenbacker chord signalling a new phase of both lyrical and musical sophistication, “A Hard Day’s Night” is quite possibly my favorite Beatles song. 

I mean, what’s not to love: John & Paul trading off vocals, the overtly sexual words, two Georges on the solo, and all of the extra percussion throughout, epitomized by the cowbell underpinning Paul’s bit.

It all adds up to one of the greatest pure pop songs in history, and I would argue, maybe the first power pop song ever recorded, though I guess you could really apply that label to any of the early great Beatles uptempo singles.  

We covered this in Sedan Delivery, and all I did throughout the entire song was bash my drums in double-time, desperately attempting to recapture the joy and energy that comes through every time I hear this song.

Opening sequence from the film A Hard Day’s Night

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #29: The Beatles – “I Want To Hold Your Hand”

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Single, 1963.

Now we come to the part I’ve actually been dreading: The Beatles.

Not because I don’t love The Beatles, because that’s beyond contrary – there is literally zero point to disliking the Beatles – but because I’ve never been able to get any perspective on The Beatles.They’ve been there my entire life, and despite – actually because – I’ve consumed countless books and films and articles and videos about them, what can I possibly say that’s even remotely new?

After 50 years, it’s like coming up with a hot take on the sunrise. The sun rises every single day, and it is always fucking awesome.

I mean, take this song: what could I possibly say about it that others haven’t already said? I mean, even fucking Bob Dylan weighed in on it. So I guess I could point out that it invokes The Handclap Rule (that handclaps make a good song great and a great song immortal), the bridge (twice!) provides a modicum of normality amidst what’s a pretty insane arrangement, and Ringo’s drums just before each chorus are fucking masterful, but I’m sure I wouldn’t be the first.

So I guess all that’s left is to wonder what would have been like to first hear this on the radio as a teenager? In the U.K., they were at least prepped by “She Loves You,” but here in the U.S., “I Want to Hold Your Hand” was so far beyond just about everything else that it must have been like a bomb detonating.

Official video for “I Want to Hold Your Hand”

My Certain Songs Playlist on Spotify

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #28: The Beastie Boys – “I Don’t Know”

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Album: Hello Nasty
Year: 1998

On Hello Nasty, the Beastie Boys were somehow able to trade on their long-gone bad boy past while at the same time distancing themselves from it. To me, that alblum was the epitome of the “everything goes” musical joy that they always traded in, and I appreciated that while aging had mellowed them, it hadn’t mellowed their music.

So wouldn’t it figure that the most mellow song they have ever recorded would be my favorite? On “I Don’t Know,” Adam Yauch sang about how the more he knows, the less he’s sure of. Like the rest of us.

I mean, from:

;Torchin’ and crackin’ and rhymin’ and stealin’
Robbin’ and rapin’, bustin’ two in the ceilin’
I’m wheelin’, I’m dealin’, I’m drinkin’, not thinkin’
Never cower, never shower and I’m always stinkin’

To:
 

;I’m walking through time
 Deluded as the next guy
 Pretending and hoping to find
 That distance peace of mind

in a little bit more than a decade? That’s what we call “growing up.”

Of course, a whole album of music like “I Don’t Know” would have been intolerable, but stuck in between “Body Moving” and the “Negotiation Limerick File,” it stuck out like a sore thumb. A beautiful, moving sore thumb.

I’d like to think that maybe Adam Yauch found that peace of mind.

“I Don’t Know”

Certain Songs: The Beastie Boys – “Looking Down The Barrel of a Gun”

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Album: Paul’s Boutique.

Year: 1989.

My favorite song on the long-simmering landmark Paul’s Boutique, “Looking Down The Barrel of a Gun” is a song that merges Beasties past with Beasties future.

On one hand, as a relatively straightforward song on an album that mixed and matched samples with the abandon of Jackson Pollock brushstrokes, it could have been at home on Licensed to Ill – right down to the “Mississippi Queen” mini-sample – which probably explains my instant attraction to it in 1989.  

On the other hand, it’s a song where the Adams Horovitz and Yauch played guitar and bass, presaging the rest of their career, where they would rap on top of homegrown funk jams.  So it felt more organic somehow than anything else on Paul’s Boutique, which was otherwise so revolutionary – even in the era of Prince Paul and the Bomb Squad  – it felt like the sounds of science fiction.

Official Video for “Looking Down The Barrel of a Gun”

My Certain Songs Playlist on Spotify

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs #26: The Beastie Boys – “Rhymin & Stealin'”

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Album: Licensed to Ill.

Year: 1986.

With the opening track of their debut, the Beastie Boys initiated one of the greatest crossovers in the history of popular music: they turned millions of white punk and alt-rock kids onto music that they’d previously hardly ever heard or even outright dismissed: Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath.

Right. What can you say about a cultural event like Licensed to Ill? I mean, it wasn’t like Run-DMC weren’t already using the tag-team vocals and hard rock guitars that Rick Rubin & the Beasties deployed all over this record.  So yeah, the fact that they were white definitely was a factor in the appeal, and why this record still gets played on the radio decades and decades later.

But it was more than just cultural appropriation, more than just clean, pretty white boys using that dirty black music to make millions. I mean, three white guys rapping could have been a fucking disaster, except for the complete and utter joy that emanated from every stolen beat, lick and syllable.

Whatever else you want to to say about Licensed to Ill, it is inarguably one of the most fun-sounding records ever made.

And because of all that, I think that the Beasties also contributed a key punk rock ethos to hip-hop: the thrill of suddenly realizing that anyone – anyone at all! – could pick up a mic, find a beat, and spit out some rhymes. It wasn’t about being a virtuoso at what you did, it was about expressing yourself however the fuck you wanted, because it was all you ever wanted to do.

Express yourself!

This, of course, is all with the benefit of hindsight: all I knew at the time was that “Rhymin & Stealin’” was totally familiar and completely new at the same time, and it was fun to pretend like I was a fucking asshole like the guys in the song.  I didn’t really know why they were chanting “Ali Baba & the 40 Thieves,” a gazillion times on the bridge (or whatever), but I loved how the record-scratching took the place of a drumroll at the end of it.

And I had firsthand experience with that assholery: I interviewed the Beastie Boys at KFSR just a couple of months before this album came out. They (along with LL Cool J & Whodini) were opening for Run-DMC on their “Raising Hell” Tour, and since KFSR had been playing the “She’s on It” single, somehow they came down to the radio station for an in-studio interview.

Of course, even in those pre-internet days, their reputation had proceeded them, so rather than trying to control three guys who didn’t give a fuck, I just let them say and do whatever they wanted, and hoped that nobody sent a tape to the FCC. But I couldn’t be pissed at them: if I had the same access to music and drugs and girls that they did, I would have been exactly the same.

Just because you’re young and smart doesn’t mean you can’t be a complete fucking idiot. Trust me on that.

Of course, nowadays, I wish someone had made a tape and sent it to the FCC, because like every single other tape I made of the people I interviewed, that one is long gone.

Official Video for “Rhymin & Stealin’”

My Certain Songs Playlist on Spotify

Every “Certain Song” Ever

Certain Songs: The Beach Boys – “Good Vibrations”

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Album: Smiley Smile.

Year: 1966.

If you’re an artist, and you’ve just made the greatest thing you’ll ever make – hell, one of the the greatest things anyone will ever make – by the time you turn 25, where do you go from there?

For Brian Wilson, of course, it’s been a long weird road, ending with some kind of redemption. But had he gone the full Syd Barrett after this song, his legacy would have been secure. Hell, had The Beach Boys only produced just “Good Vibrations” as a one-off, his legacy would have been secure.

For a very long time, this was the only Beach Boys song I truly loved without reservations: the early singles felt slight and silly, and things like “God Only Knows” were simply gorgeous when I needed grit as well.

But “Good Vibrations” is arty and psychedelic and does that thing where the verses are downtempo but the choruses are uptempo, and that’s just for starters.

Just when you think you’ve got the whole thing figured out, it goes into what is clearly the same song but from a different conception, and then another one, and then another one so the end result is like the several different Brian Wilsons from several different universes were able to collaborate on it across time and space.

Also: still don’t know if rhyming “vibrations” and “excitations” is absolute genius or utter trash. Must be both!

Fan-made video for “Good Vibrations”

My Certain Songs Playlist on Spotify

Every “Certain Song” Ever