At this point, it had to be really.
For those who don't already know, "Slight Return" was The Bluetones' biggest hit. Only Babylon Zoo kept it off the number one spot back in 1996, and it played a large part in Expecting to Fly briefly interrupting a very long Oasis run at number one in the album charts. It also still gets regular-ish airings on alternative leaning radio station, in common with precisely none of their other songs.
What with never having heard of The Bluetones before 2000, I didn't know any of this at the time, so I'm missing out on a big wave of nostalgia and as a result at a certain remove from this song as it's widely treated. There are certainly other singles of theirs that would cheer me up more with (hypothetical) radio plays as a result, but there's no way I'm going to begrudge "Slight Return" its status.
In some ways it's actually not the most obvious hit. The chorus is catchy, but no more so than "Bluetonic" and "Cut Some Rug", whose tunes are a lot more forceful and instant. Lyrically it is relatable but remarkably low key - never has an anthem been so careful and qualified from the title on downwards. 'I'm coming home'... '(but just for a short while)'. In the long run it's actually the thoughtful realism behind its gentle reassurance that makes it work, a friendly hand on the shoulder that recognises that there are problems but takes them down in size. That takes a good few listens to sink in though.
What makes all the difference immediately is that none of those other songs featured the sunniest, jangliest guitar tone ever, or made use of it so fantastically. From the single bright, expectant opening chord that hangs in space for just long enough onwards, it provides all the hook you need and more. They know it, too. That's made clearest is how they brilliantly end the thing - there's no drawn out repetition of the song's lyrical refrain to finish, but instead a return to riffing on its guitar patterns, turning at last into a completely unqualified celebration.
Finally, it's probably sensible to mention that other band whose ghost occasionally looms over us at this point, as the only song that comes close to sounding like this, and just possibly an influence, is The Stone Roses' "Waterfall" (The La's or Delays being close but a juncture further away in style). Now, Ian Brown's voice got to be the butt of way more jokes than it deserved, especially coming from people who would laud the Gallaghers, but for all its other strengths it's fair to say that he could never have done justice to a "Slight Return" however good a backing he was given.
Video: "Slight Return"
Showing posts with label Expecting To Fly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Expecting To Fly. Show all posts
Wednesday, 1 October 2008
Thursday, 28 June 2007
Carn't Be Trusted
Let's start with the only negative here, since I'll have to cover it in "The Fountainhead" otherwise. The hiss and crackle and sounds of needle touching vinyl that link the two (because this is the opener to 'Side 2' of Expecting To Fly, see) are a misstep, not so much because they lend credence to accusations of being too reverent of the past as because the album is too long to fit a traditional LP and so there would be no such split! If they wanted to make a classic single album, they should have made it run to less than 53 minutes. Anyway...
This is The Bluetones in imperious form, the kind of song that makes me (briefly) understand people who adore their debut and compare everything since to it unfavourably. Full of youthful confidence, with a playfully freewheeling, just slightly hard-edged bounce, it's an instant shot of everything that was best about their sound at the time. And that's even before we get to probably Scott Morriss' most blissful harmonies ever and a song that turns their oft-projected nice guy image on its head.
See, this is a cruel, bitter song partly disguised as a sympathic arm round the shoulders. Mark Morriss first adresses an acquaintance (friend?) in the spirit of cameraderie: 'Who is she to say to you can't be trusted? And come to think of it how does she know?' with all overtones of a matey 'Yeah, you're damn right to be offended!' Which side Mark's really on becomes abundantly clear soon enough though, as following a series of progressively more ambiguous insights, he takes obvious joy in delivering one of the album's funniest of twists.
'But she just wants to spend some time with you (wa-wa-oooh)
Just a minute, or just a moment (ooooh-wa-wah)
Just long enough to throw one good clean punch'
As if that wasn't enough pain inflicted, he momentarily seems to signal that the vitriol is over, as the rest of the band step out the way for a peaceful 'Now you've reached the point where she sees through you...' before the drums charge in and the knife is twisted again and again. The implications in 'Everything she had she handed to you, and what she didn't give you, you stole' alone are enough to make me wince. It makes sense that Mark appears to end the song by being punched, then, although the whirlwind of sound and tumble of words that come out don't exactly make for the clearest of narratives. Who cares, when it sounds this heart-thumpingly exciting. It also frequently makes for one of the most enjoyable moments of their live sets, when the dramatic pause in the closing 'And all I have to show for my doubts is a cut to the lip..... and some blood on my shirt' invariably leads someone in the crowd to jump the gun and belt out the final line unsupported.
mp3: Carn't Be Trusted (live) with said singing sadly uncaptured.
YouTube: Carn't Be Trusted from Later With Jools Holland in 1996. The intro is "Colorado Beetle".
This is The Bluetones in imperious form, the kind of song that makes me (briefly) understand people who adore their debut and compare everything since to it unfavourably. Full of youthful confidence, with a playfully freewheeling, just slightly hard-edged bounce, it's an instant shot of everything that was best about their sound at the time. And that's even before we get to probably Scott Morriss' most blissful harmonies ever and a song that turns their oft-projected nice guy image on its head.
See, this is a cruel, bitter song partly disguised as a sympathic arm round the shoulders. Mark Morriss first adresses an acquaintance (friend?) in the spirit of cameraderie: 'Who is she to say to you can't be trusted? And come to think of it how does she know?' with all overtones of a matey 'Yeah, you're damn right to be offended!' Which side Mark's really on becomes abundantly clear soon enough though, as following a series of progressively more ambiguous insights, he takes obvious joy in delivering one of the album's funniest of twists.
'But she just wants to spend some time with you (wa-wa-oooh)
Just a minute, or just a moment (ooooh-wa-wah)
Just long enough to throw one good clean punch'
As if that wasn't enough pain inflicted, he momentarily seems to signal that the vitriol is over, as the rest of the band step out the way for a peaceful 'Now you've reached the point where she sees through you...' before the drums charge in and the knife is twisted again and again. The implications in 'Everything she had she handed to you, and what she didn't give you, you stole' alone are enough to make me wince. It makes sense that Mark appears to end the song by being punched, then, although the whirlwind of sound and tumble of words that come out don't exactly make for the clearest of narratives. Who cares, when it sounds this heart-thumpingly exciting. It also frequently makes for one of the most enjoyable moments of their live sets, when the dramatic pause in the closing 'And all I have to show for my doubts is a cut to the lip..... and some blood on my shirt' invariably leads someone in the crowd to jump the gun and belt out the final line unsupported.
mp3: Carn't Be Trusted (live) with said singing sadly uncaptured.
YouTube: Carn't Be Trusted from Later With Jools Holland in 1996. The intro is "Colorado Beetle".
Tuesday, 26 June 2007
Talking To Clarry
"Talking To Clarry" is the first song on Bluetones debut Expecting To Fly. Clocking in at 6:53, it's the longest song of their career, and definitely one of the most ambitious.
It opens with the roar of an aeroplane taking off which serves as:
A) a nod to the album title
B) a reference to their home town Hounslow's place next to Heathrow airport (maybe?)
C) a way of saying "listen up there, something big is about to happen"
And soon enough it does, ponderous bass leading up to a sunburst of resplendently jangled guitar that lights up the song before settling into a calmer pattern. The way that the guitar alternates with the opening sung lines is brilliant, each line dangling over an empty space before being caught at the last moment. This section really fits the song's the theme of breakdown in communication too, sounding like a conversation where each side is completely speaking a different language.
From there we twist through numerous tricksy but well handled time changes, culminating in an beautiful acoustic section where Mark Moriss is bewildered but bouyant as 'so many people crowd out the shadows', slightly spaced out and adding to the hint of psychadelia that they would never really return to after this album. It's quite the thrilling journey, but as they reach for an epic conclusion they bite off just slightly more than they can chew. Adam switches up to wah-wah soloing that couldn't get much more Squiresque, Mark extends to vaguely grand proclamtions ('it's all gone quite absurd', he bellows) and the song is sealed as a kind of miniature "Breaking Into Heaven". Which is for my money the best Stone Roses song ever, regardless of the awful quality of the rest of that album, and "Talking To Clarry" can't help but suffer in comparison, despite some great touches of their own (my favourite: 'yeah, no... yeah, yeah'). Three-quarters of a great song, but a missed opportunity to fully carve out their own identity, and the one time that the Stone Roses' shadow looms a little too large over them.
It opens with the roar of an aeroplane taking off which serves as:
A) a nod to the album title
B) a reference to their home town Hounslow's place next to Heathrow airport (maybe?)
C) a way of saying "listen up there, something big is about to happen"
And soon enough it does, ponderous bass leading up to a sunburst of resplendently jangled guitar that lights up the song before settling into a calmer pattern. The way that the guitar alternates with the opening sung lines is brilliant, each line dangling over an empty space before being caught at the last moment. This section really fits the song's the theme of breakdown in communication too, sounding like a conversation where each side is completely speaking a different language.
From there we twist through numerous tricksy but well handled time changes, culminating in an beautiful acoustic section where Mark Moriss is bewildered but bouyant as 'so many people crowd out the shadows', slightly spaced out and adding to the hint of psychadelia that they would never really return to after this album. It's quite the thrilling journey, but as they reach for an epic conclusion they bite off just slightly more than they can chew. Adam switches up to wah-wah soloing that couldn't get much more Squiresque, Mark extends to vaguely grand proclamtions ('it's all gone quite absurd', he bellows) and the song is sealed as a kind of miniature "Breaking Into Heaven". Which is for my money the best Stone Roses song ever, regardless of the awful quality of the rest of that album, and "Talking To Clarry" can't help but suffer in comparison, despite some great touches of their own (my favourite: 'yeah, no... yeah, yeah'). Three-quarters of a great song, but a missed opportunity to fully carve out their own identity, and the one time that the Stone Roses' shadow looms a little too large over them.
Thursday, 14 June 2007
No. 11 / Bluetonic
When I am sad and weary,
When I think hope is gone,
When I walk along High Holborn,
I think of you with nothing on
Celia, Celia, Adrian Mitchell
This is where it all begins, for them. "No. 11", so called because it was the 11th song that the band had written, was the lead track on indie label Fierce Panda's third EP Return To Splendour. Other tracks on that one were by such household names as Thurman, The Nubiles and Alvin Purple, but it's worth noting that its predecessor included debuts by Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, Ash, and Supergrass.
"No 11" sets out the band's stall very effectively. A simple but richly reverberating guitar riff cycles twice before another, better one is overlaid, then a third. Eds Chesters drums almost as much to fill in the little gaps left in this intricate web as for rhythymic purposes. The bass does... something in there somewhere. Mark Morriss' voice is basically fully formed already, a sweet, high, enfolding thing that scuppers any chances of a place as the new Stone Roses that they were claimed to be.
And come the chorus, they set it all out. 'There's no heart you can't melt with a certain little smile/No challenge should be faced without a little charm and a lot of style'. Perhaps the latter should be swapped around, because charm has almost always been a bit more them than style, but that's The Bluetones right there. Taking on allcomers, politely. If you're being snarky, 'Only a fool won't take the chance to stay the same' fits too. It's so perfect a statement of purpose that it's no surprise that they went on to all but name it after themselves.
"Bluetonic" is thus the eventual album and hit single version of the same song. It's meatier, of course, with every little guitar sound crisply projected in widescreen and the chorus now marked with a big 'sing along here, folks' signpost. It loses a little something in transition. Scott Morriss' backing vocals are already being relegated back in the mix and imitating his brother's poised tone, rather than being slurred in from another room. That line, the Adrian Mitchell-sourced one that was of course the one Mark was asked to finish on Never Mind The Buzzcocks, is delivered with a knowing wink rather than thrown away as if it wasn't anything. The biggest difference shows up right at the end though: The closing 'yeah, ye-ah yeah YEA-eh' of "No. 11" is full of palpable hunger, the sound of a band raring to take on the world and with a drive beyond the polite exterior. The yeahs are still there in it's successor, but the excitement isn't quite.
Youtube: Bluetonic video, don't they look young?
mp3: No. 11
When I think hope is gone,
When I walk along High Holborn,
I think of you with nothing on
Celia, Celia, Adrian Mitchell
This is where it all begins, for them. "No. 11", so called because it was the 11th song that the band had written, was the lead track on indie label Fierce Panda's third EP Return To Splendour. Other tracks on that one were by such household names as Thurman, The Nubiles and Alvin Purple, but it's worth noting that its predecessor included debuts by Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, Ash, and Supergrass.
"No 11" sets out the band's stall very effectively. A simple but richly reverberating guitar riff cycles twice before another, better one is overlaid, then a third. Eds Chesters drums almost as much to fill in the little gaps left in this intricate web as for rhythymic purposes. The bass does... something in there somewhere. Mark Morriss' voice is basically fully formed already, a sweet, high, enfolding thing that scuppers any chances of a place as the new Stone Roses that they were claimed to be.
And come the chorus, they set it all out. 'There's no heart you can't melt with a certain little smile/No challenge should be faced without a little charm and a lot of style'. Perhaps the latter should be swapped around, because charm has almost always been a bit more them than style, but that's The Bluetones right there. Taking on allcomers, politely. If you're being snarky, 'Only a fool won't take the chance to stay the same' fits too. It's so perfect a statement of purpose that it's no surprise that they went on to all but name it after themselves.
"Bluetonic" is thus the eventual album and hit single version of the same song. It's meatier, of course, with every little guitar sound crisply projected in widescreen and the chorus now marked with a big 'sing along here, folks' signpost. It loses a little something in transition. Scott Morriss' backing vocals are already being relegated back in the mix and imitating his brother's poised tone, rather than being slurred in from another room. That line, the Adrian Mitchell-sourced one that was of course the one Mark was asked to finish on Never Mind The Buzzcocks, is delivered with a knowing wink rather than thrown away as if it wasn't anything. The biggest difference shows up right at the end though: The closing 'yeah, ye-ah yeah YEA-eh' of "No. 11" is full of palpable hunger, the sound of a band raring to take on the world and with a drive beyond the polite exterior. The yeahs are still there in it's successor, but the excitement isn't quite.
Youtube: Bluetonic video, don't they look young?
mp3: No. 11
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