The one cover song on X’s fourth album, New Fun In The New World, is their version of Otis Blackwell’s tune Breathless.
Breathless was a giant hit for Jerry Lee Lewis. One of my favorite songs of his.
But Breathless was also the name of Jean Luc Godard’s first feature.
And was also the name of a sort of remake by the once underground filmmaker Jim McBride, who turned a film about an American girl in Paris loving a French gangster into a film about a French girl in LA loving an American gangster.
X did the cover for the money and promotion, but as you can see in the clip, they perform it brilliantly. And differently. And this one of the great rock songs, no matter whose version you hear.
But we’ve opened up a can of it here. Godard meets McBride. Blackwell meets Jerry Lee Lewis meets X.
There’s a new Taylor Swift single out called Shake It Off. The song will be a hit, it has the insistent beat of Pharrell’s Happy and the marketing might of Taylor Swift herself and all that’s at stake stoking her machine (her record label is called Big Machine), but the song it reminds me of most is Elvis Costello’s most unhitish soul foray on his 1983 album Punch the Clock, Let Them All Talk. The obvious tie in is the insistent soul horns, which would fit in well on a Dexy’s Midnight Runner’s song, but in typical Costello fashion they’re played for pure signifying noise rather than simple if numbing pleasure.
This clip is from an extended dance mix, which I’m not sure adds a lot of danceability to the track, but does open it up sonically.
Taylor Swift’s new album is called 1989 and I have no idea if that is a reference to the music of the 80s, but this video captured me from the git go. The mix of dancing and subtle jokes is totally winning. And while we can be certain Taylor wasn’t channeling Let Them All Talk, it is curious that her tune hits those same bleating horns hard, and is similarly self referential (though she never talks about the soul cliches).
Some will enjoy this, some will slit their wrists or puncture their eardrums, but I offer it up for its curious echoes…
By the way, on some plays the video is preceded by a clip of Taylor selling style for JC Penny’s, and watching her shill I don’t like her at all. But this video is really great. It elevates the song beyond beyond. I’m not going to stop watching, and probably won’t be able to, at least for a while.
In the comments to my post about our tastes for pop music being set when we’re teens, more or less, Gene said: “OK, but ALL pop music is retro now – there haven’t been any cultural changes in more than 20 years, which is unprecedented since pop culture entered its modern phase in the early 20th century.”
I would have agreed with him until my daughter started in middle school. There she met a whole cohort of teen musicians. These guys (in this case they’re all guys) play piano and guitar and saxophone and drums and sing really well, but in their spare time they write and record dubstep.
And I have friends whose sons also record dubstep and go to EDM concerts where all the music is spun by djs with computers. I know, I know, we hate this sort of music, but to say that ALL pop music is retro now misses the point that the pop music that is listened to by the youth today sounds like nothing I’ve ever heard before.
Most of it, hey-get off my lawn, doesn’t even sound like music.
Talking about the charged music of one’s youth, both Rufus’s Tell Me Something Good and Hot Chocolate’s You Sexy Thing, as well as Stevie Wonder’s Innervisions album and Kool and Gang’s Wild and Peaceful album, served as a heated soundtrack to youthful explorations both physical and mindbending that are to this day indelible.
I listen to You Sexy Thing now and I wonder why in the heck they inserted those strings, but in my memories of long ago all I hear is the funky guitar and the pleading naked vocals.
If I put on my objective hat today the song is overproduced and undercranked, but through the lens of youth’s underproduction and overcranking, it is sweet indeed.
Mark Joseph Stern, at Slate, who is still in his 20s, explains why the music we love as teens (from 12 to 22) is the music we remain most passionate about our whole lives.
The fact that this is pretty much true we see in evidence with almost every post here at Rock Remnants, and we all have a lot more water under the bridge than Stern does.
I’m sure his explanation isn’t quite the whole of the answer, but in general terms it feels pretty much right (and it involves brain imaging!). What came to mind for me, one of those teen moments, was a memory of reading in Lisa Robinson’s Hit Parader magazine, maybe when I was 13, about Jerry Lee Lewis’s song Breathless as the apotheosis of rock ‘n’ roll.
I went to the music store in my home town and found a copy of the single in the oldies section, and probably paid a quarter for it. If memory serves it was b/w High School Confidential. I brought the 45 home and put it on the fat spindle on my cheap record player. I was tremulous, with heightened expectations, almost giddy I recall. I anticipated something incredible, and when I pushed play, I got something I’d never heard before.
Bye bye Herman’s Hermits, hello better stuff of all sorts. I’ll never forget that and now I know better why.
Ten Beatles Songs, ridiculous to say these are the best. But ridiculous not to try to make such a list. This one is as much personal as anything else.
I Wanna Hold Your Hand (1964)
This is the first song I remember hearing. It was their first No. 1 in the states, and along with it came a lot of talk about their hair and the screaming fainting girls. This song is a perfect piece of pop songwriting, totally catchy, but also varied by parts and tone, so that it’s not too sweet or too blue, not too dependent on one hook when a few will be better.
Yesterday (1965)
This is the one song I’ve played in public recital on the piano. It is also one of the songs I sang to my daughter every night for many years, as she fell asleep. But the reason I list it here is because as I’ve come to appreciate Paul McCartney as a lyricist, this is one of his finest poems. Spare, wonderfully structured, plainly said and deeply felt, and not at all sentimental in and of themselfs, these are words that don’t really need strings or any of the pop craft you hear here. A magnificent achievement.
Here There and Everywhere (1966)
Another McCartney perfection. John Lennon called this one of his favorite Beatles tunes, which says something.
Eight Days A Week (1964)
Lennon thought this one was lousy and the Beatles never played it live. I suppose I can pick it apart, it’s simple and some of the lyrics are just fine, not perfect, but I love the harmonies and the sentiment and those jangling guitars. If I’m having a party this is the Beatles tune that goes into the dance mix, no matter what John said.
Helter Skelter (1968)
McCartney goes all heavy metal, and comes up with a loud rocker that is most notable for it’s sweet harmonies and affability. But that doesn’t mean that the noise isn’t loud and the music less than assaultive. I kind of landed here because so much of The Beatles is novelty, in a cute and clever way. You can dress Helter Skelter in the same clothing, it was a challenge song, Paul trying to write the dirtiest sounding song he could, and for all it’s sonic sturm it isn’t really threatening until John talks about his blisters. I buried Paul, and all that. But it does rock until the extended coda and it does carve out new musical territory, and I always enjoy hearing it.
Hey Jude (1968)
Okay, more McCartney. This song is so simple, so perfectly simple, it’s hard to imagine how it became a seven minute epic, but at that it seems absolutely right. Variations and more variations, along with the lovely sing song consolation that will not take no for an answer, ending with sing along Na na na na na na monumental coda, which elevates everything to yet another higher level. Take a sad song and make it better. They did.
A Hard Days Night (1964)
Here’s the problem. This is a perfect song, with a great arrangement and fantastic harmonies. Give credit here to John Lennon, finally. The problem is that the Beatles have 30 others just as good. But I love this one for the opening chord and the lyrics, which (like Eight Days a Week) refer to a working life. That’s not a big deal, but it takes the pouffery of the pop song back into the grind of the working week, and that’s something I notice. Plus it sounds fantastic.
Get Back (1969)
I remember hearing this the first time, watching the video, which is a fantastic bit of expression of the Beatles’ power, and a world still trying to rein them and all of the youth in. The lyrics are nonsense, but sound great, and the song is a terribly affable rock song elevated by Billy Preston’s keyboards. I won’t claim this is one of the band’s great songs, but it is one of my favorites.
Within You, Without You (1967)
I made a Beatles Top 11 earlier in the year, kind of a lark because I did it quickly, but I meant it. When I started putting this list together I did so without consulting the original, but I did remember that Within You, Without You was on that list, kind of representing Sgt. Pepper. Lawr commented that he didn’t think the Beatles could write a bad song, except for Within You, Without You and Revolution #9. I’m not tempted to put the goofy pastiche on my list, but I cannot escape this George Harrison song. I am not a religious person and certainly not going all gaga over some big religious personality, er fraud, so forget the horrible lyrics, but they don’t matter, I think. The propulsive rhythm and the sawing harmonies and the densely layered mix, are really beautiful and appealing in a way that trad Indian music isn’t. To my ears, I mean. I do feel bad that two of my top 10 Beatles songs are really solo acts, featuring no other Beatles but the composer. So be it. I just wish I’d included Gomper on my Stones list.
Can’t Be Me Love (1964)
I guess the plain speaking, harmonizing rockers are my favorite Beatles, and this tune, like Eight Days a Week and Hard Days Night is both insistently rocking and rolling a sophisticated metaphor around on its tongue. McCartney wrote this one, but my favorite Beatle was always John.
Extras
Every single other Beatles song could be listed here, except for Revolution #9, which isn’t really a song as much as a collage. A good collage I think, so let’s go out with that. Backwards!
As I told Lawr when he suggested I make out a top 10, taking a dive into the Rolling Stones catalog is more like wading in the kiddie pool to the rest of you guys. But what the heck, it’s a fun exercise no matter what the degree of difficulty.
I’m going with the Stones because the thing that differentiates them from the Beatles in my mind is that their songs conjure up much more iconic memories for me than Beatles tunes, which always seemed to be here, there and everywhere. At least in my case, you listened to the Beatles. But you experienced the Stones.
Now, on with the countdown …
R.S. 10 Extra:Honky Tonk Women always makes me smile because of the intro where Charlie Watts does the tink-tink-tink. When I was working at a radio station back in the day, we had a fake commercial produced to coincide with Mick’s 44th birthday for “Mick’s Formula 44” cough medicine. (Fake Mick: “When I’m on stage hackin’ me lungs out, I get me a spoonful of Mick’s Formula 44.”) At the end he hits the spoon on the bottle to make his point — tink-tink-tink — and says, “Hey, that gives me an idea” as the song starts in the background. Yeah, we were easily amused back then.
10. Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (Heartbreaker). I’m not a lyrics guy. It’s always the rhythm, the melody, the harmony and the tune that make me like a song way before any lyrics. With this one, the intro is really catchy and the lyrics jump out at you from “the PO-lice in New York City” and slap you around like a crooked cop. I’m also a sucker for horns in rock n roll, and this one is a great example.
9. Shattered. This one always reminds me of Beach Week in high school. The Stones were quite prolific during those years with Some Girls, Emotional Rescue and Tattoo You all out in a four-year period. Some Girls was the one we kept coming back to. The rapid-fire lyrics here may have been Mick’s nod to rapping (“what a mess/this town’s in tatters/I’ve been shattered/my brain’s been battered/spread it all over Manhattan”). Fun to sing with a group of others who’ve also had a few beers along the way. The cold ending caps everything perfectly.
8. Sympathy for the Devil. This song reminds me of a youth event at church during high school when we had 3WV, Charlottesville’s album rock station, cranked up in the fellowship hall while we were setting up for something. This song came on and those of us familiar with it didn’t really know how to react to the irony of the situation. So we sang the “Woo Woo!” part really loud. And no one really paid any attention, except to shake their heads at those silly kids.
7. Torn and Frayed. Everything on Exile on Main Street is fantastic, so this tune serves as a representative of that album and the Stones’ ability to do country-roots-rock with the best of ’em. It also gets extra points for Phish covering it the first time I saw them live. What an unexpected treat that was.
6. Under My Thumb (live version, from Still Life). I didn’t like the studio version of this one at all, but the live version has so much more oomph. This was a staple of my listening rotation in college. Friday afternoon … crank up some live Stones.
5. Just My Imagination (live). Same deal here with the Temptations cover. Mick substitutes “strictly” in the line “To have a girl like her is truly a dream come true.” And as was the case with so many of those parties in college, the song perfectly describes my chances of hooking up with one of those beautiful girls.
4. Monkey Man. I couldn’t tell you what the hell this tune is about, but it’s incredibly haunting and it kicks ass. The slide guitar stuff on Let It Bleed like this one and Midnight Rambler is great. When Mick starts screaming like an actual monkey, you can’t help but picture him strutting around on stage. And maybe needing to be caged.
3. Brown Sugar. The Stones at their rockin’ best. Love the guitar interplay. Throw in the horns and the sax solo. Yeah, yeah, yeah, woo! This could easily have been No. 1.
2. Jumpin’ Jack Flash. You can have Satisfaction; this is my pick for the definitive Stones guitar riff of all time. It’s meatier with the chords and dramatic pauses before the hook kicks in. The bass line also gets plenty of love here too. Unlike some of their biggest hits, I never get tired of hearing this one.
1. Gimme Shelter. I’m not alone in giving this one top billing. It has everything from soulful vocals (with an incredible guest performance), a memorable chorus, head-bopping drums, classic Keith on guitar and lyrics that make a powerful statement, even to a non-lyrics guy.
Here’s a fun clip of the Stones on the Ed Sullivan Show, syncing to this tune in 1966. It doesn’t appear that any of group listed this one in their Top 10, probably rightly, but it is a catchy original tune that defies categorization. Reportedly one of the first songs to incorporate guitar feedback (can this be true?) and the first Stones song with a horn part, it was also supposedly one of the first songs Richards composed on the piano and can be seen miming the piano part in the video.
But in the recording it is Jack Nitzsche and Brian Jones who played the piano, with Richards on guitar.
And the lyrics are straightforward, mysterious and mysteriously salacious. Nicely done.
We watched Noah Baumbach’s The Squid and the Whale tonight, which ends with the first of the three parts of this rather incredible song. I posted this same clip last October after Lou died.
The video, by the way, is made up of Andy Warhol screen tests, as well as other clips of Warhol’s. Notably, Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips, who wrote the original music for The Squid and the Whale, later went on to make an album of songs to accompany the screen tests. I haven’t heard that album.
Also notable, the start of a section three features spoken word by Bruce Springsteen, whose three year recording exile in the mid-seventies was coming to an end with the recording of Darkness at the Edge of Town, at about the time Street Hassle was recorded.
I somehow missed that he’d died late in June, but the last few days came upon RIP Playlists and other indications that Womack had passed.
I came to know him via the Rolling Stones, whose cover of his (and Shirley Womack’s) tune It’s All Over Now was a favorite.
But of course, Bobby had started in a somewhat different place. His version of the song entered the charts in June 1964. The Stones recorded the song a few weeks later and by the end of July their cover was their first No. 1 song in the UK.
Womack hadn’t wanted the Stones to cover the tune. He reportedly told Jagger, “Get your own song,” but when the royalty check arrived at the end of the year he told the Stones they could have any song of his they wanted. He worked with the band years later, on their Dirty Work album.
In the meantime, Ry Cooder did an ace reggae cover of the song on his Paradise and Lunch album.
