Archive for the ‘Random Notes’ Category

Random Notes: Bringing the Dirty Back

Thursday, January 17th, 2013

I figured Bruno Mars had the goods ever since I saw him performing Barrett Strong’s “Money” on video a couple of years ago. But his earlier records, even the best of them, didn’t prepare me for how intense and beautifully crafted Unorthodox Jukebox is, and how far ranging Mars’s stylistic influences go. It’s not a perfect album—it’s stiff in places, shallow at times, and the production is too pristine for some of the ideas he’s trying to pull off—but it’s still one of the best pop albums of last year.

Among critics, the favorite track appears to be “Treasure”, a stunning Prince-style piece of pop funk that could have been released in the mid-eighties, or maybe even the seventies. For me, though, the most surprising track is “Gorilla”.

What makes “Gorilla” stand out is simple, yet rare: it’s dirty. That may not seem like anything special, but not many people make truly dirty records anymore. Not even Prince. Even at his most pornographic, Prince always layers his lustful fantasies with a sophisticated eroticism, the musical equivalent of soft focus and satin backdrops. Most of the time he kept a certain distance, hyping sex as a mystical and spiritual experience as much as a physical one.

But even records that avoid that sophisticated, lover-man vibe rarely dig deep into the idea of raunch. Rap records are noted for their pornographic attention to detail, but the sexual world of rap too often revolves around ideas of power and dominance, a defensive need to provide proof of masculinity, and, its worst, disgust. When it doesn’t, it works the loverman vibe as well, taking its cues from Marvin Gaye, Al Green, and, again, Prince.

But “Gorilla” is different. There’s no sense of domination or of a power struggle; the partners are equal in their gorilla-like lust and sexual energy (Mars brags about his prowess and pulls on her hair, but in the context of the song it sounds like part of their sexual back-and-forth, not an attempt to dominate). At the same time, even with its lack of graphic pornographic description, there are no romantic asides or sensual scene-setting in “Gorilla”. Mars and his partner meet, fuck, and as far as can be told from the song, don’t waste their time thinking about their past, their future, their relationship to each other, or anything else.

Aside from the music, which builds to successive waves of orgasm throughout the song, what’s most striking is Mars’s use of obscenity. The word “fuck” appears twice, and each time Mars sets it for maximum impact. At the end of the second verse he promises the woman she’ll be screaming “Give it to me motherfucker!”, and in one line in the final chorus changes “Making love like gorillas” to “fucking like gorillas.” Each moment comes as a shock, both in the context of the song and in terms of Mars’s persona.

It’s not that Mars hasn’t used obscenities before in his songs (think of the hook he wrote for Travie McCoy’s “Billionaire”), and there are plenty on his Twitter feed, but it’s always been in a lighthearted, throwaway manner. At the same time, Mars’s voice, which at times echoes Smokey Robinson, at others Sam Cooke (and occasionally both at once), seems custom made for romance and sensuality. But Mars doesn’t show much interest in either one. If he is intentionally echoing those singers, it’s the Robinson of “Going to A Go-Go” or the Sam Cooke of Live at the Harlem Square Club that he’s trying to capture, not “”The Tracks of My Tears” or Live at the Copa.

The only apt comparison I can think of would be to the raunchy blues and r&b of the thirties through the fifties, even though “Gorilla” sounds nothing like them. Since Mars started his career as a very young Elvis impersonator, and as his cover of “Money” attests, he may be particularly attuned to that style of music and that era. Not just the music, though, but also the attitudes, the atmosphere, the smell.

Sex that is simply sex, as raunchy and dirty as it can be, is something that barely exists in the pop world anymore (Ke$ha may be the one exception, but she doesn’t seem as interested as she used to be). In its heyday it was hidden and shrouded in innuendo, in our more liberal era it’s a curiosity, overwhelmed by fetishizing and the boring everydayness of the explicit. When Mars says fuck he means it, and he wants you to feel it. Forget the sexy; he wants to bring the dirty back.

Random Notes #4

Tuesday, January 25th, 2011

The Psychedelic Furs
“High Wire Days”
1984

Music attaches itself to memory and emotion in odd ways, sometimes rising up in unexpected places, and making unexpected connections. I was a big fan of The Psychedelic Furs in the ’80s, but by the turn of the century I’d pretty much forgotten about this song, and most of the rest of the album it’s on, Mirror Moves. But sometime after September 11th it came back into my head, and through some strange connection of memory, imagination, maybe even desire, became my de facto soundtrack for memories of that day. I even have an image in my head to go with the song—not one I remember, but one I conjured up somehow, of someone stepping out of an apartment building somewhere in Manhattan and walking resolutely toward the twin towers as they burn. It’s more like a scene from a movie than a memory, but more like a memory than any scene from a movie I can recall. The song fits the image perfectly: it has a sense of defiance and a determination not to be fooled or victimized again, to take action, even if it’s unclear what that action would be. It is, in a sense, a heroic song, one with a prescient sense of upcoming disaster (“the lions have eaten the lamb/in tomorrow’s pages”). It’s a song about staring down the future, a future that may have been even worse in writer Richard Butler’s imagination than in reality. Released 17 years before the event, it has nothing whatever to do with 9/11, but in my mind, in ways I can’t quite explain, it has everything to do with it.

Random Notes #3

Tuesday, January 11th, 2011

Radioactive Cats
“Bed Of Roses”
1991

I am not a fan of hair metal. In the late ’80s nothing would make me change the channel faster than Motley Crue, Poison, Skid Row, Whitesnake, or just about anyone else in the genre. Guns ‘n Roses I could stand, but barely. I would sometimes appreciate the pop element in the sound, and I appreciate it even more now, but for the most part I saw them as preening, self-important buffoons, a description they might take as a compliment. I still feel much the same way, but it’s always important to consider exceptions, even to rules you create for yourself, and this record is one of them. It was never a hit. Released sometime late in 1991, any chance it might have had of success was swept away by the tide of grunge, and suddenly guys with perfectly groomed shoulder blade-length hair and shiny phallic (in both sound and appearance) guitars were no longer in vogue. Radioactive Cats’s sound may have been too pop even for hair metal, and they certainly were different. Hailing from Memphis, at times they reflected more of a pure blues influence than most hair metal bands, and even a bit of country and fifties rock and roll—the album included a track that recreated the echoey Sun Records guitar sound for it’s intro. This could have been just another song about how hot the singer’s girlfriend is, but it has a catchiness, and a romantic quality, that goes beyond what you’d normally hear in hair metal. Yeah, he wants to rock her all night long, just like every other horny, long-haired, blow-dried guitarist in America, but he wants to do it on a bed of roses, and the way he describes her, it’s obvious he can’t get over how lucky he is to have the chance. Even with much of the usual macho preening in the music, there’s a sense of sweetness, almost of innocence, to this record. Maybe these guys were just too nice to make it as a metal band.

Random Notes #2

Wednesday, August 4th, 2010

Richard and Linda Thompson
“A Heart Needs a Home”
1975

The story goes that when the Thompson’s were halfway into the recording of their second album, Hokey Pokey, Richard was struck by some form of emotional crisis. The despair that filled so much of his music had overtaken him, and he felt that it was pointless to go on. The songs he’d written for Hokey Pokey were full of people engaging in random, frantic, meaningless activity, taking their pleasures in the earthly and ignoring the spiritual, looking for anything to fill the holes in their lives. Thompson, by all accounts, was beginning to feel the same way about his music. It was about this time that he and Linda attended a performance by a group of Islamic musicians. Thompson was entranced by the music, and speaking to the musicians afterwords, was equally entranced with their beliefs, founded in Sufism, the most artistically and intellectually open-minded of the Islamic sects. Shortly thereafter, Thompson converted to Islam and, rejuvenated, returned to work on Hokey Pokey. The first song he wrote after his conversion was “A Heart Needs a Home”, a prayer to Allah that, like much Islamic devotional music, took the form of a love song.

That’s the story, anyway. The reality is probably somewhat different (Thompson now says he’d been reading up on Sufism for a couple of years beforehand, so you can’t say that his conversion came as a bolt out of the blue), but the result is the same: one of the most stunningly beautiful songs ever written. I tend to prefer the live versions that have been released, partly because that’s how I first heard it (on Richard’s (guitar/vocal) compilation), and partly because the studio version is a little too heavily arranged. The song doesn’t need decoration, it stands up perfectly on its own—especially when Linda is singing it.

Random Notes #1

Monday, May 24th, 2010

Frank Sinatra
“If I Had You”
1962

In terms of the lyric, there’s no reason why this can’t be a happy song, and that’s the way Sinatra had recorded it in 1957 for his album A Swingin’ Affair. Five short years later, though, the situation has changed. He still hasn’t got the girl who could make his life pefection, who could turn him into a superman (Ava Gardner, perhaps?); now he’ll never have her, and he knows it. Instead of conquering the world, he’s incapable of doing anything at all, including sing—listen to the way his voice cracks at the end of the first middle eight on the line “if I had you by my side”. This is a different Sinatra than the one usually celebrated—a vulnerable, depressed, even broken Sinatra. It probably isn’t a coincidence that this was recorded the same year he made The Manchurian Candidate, the darkest and most unsettling of all his movies. A few years later he was back on top, singing “Strangers In the Night” and “That’s Life”, cool, defiant, triumphant once again. But the undercurrent of despair never left him, and two years before he died he put together the compilation Everything Happens To Me, which included this recording; it was the saddest Sinatra album since Only the Lonely. The sound on this video doesn’t do justice to the subtleties of Sinatra’s voice, but there’s no escaping the pain he’s trying to work his way through. It’s devastating.