Troop’s “All I Do Is Think Of You” is the sound of angels singing.
On Second Thought: David Bowie’s ‘Tonight’
Originally published 7/12/05 at Stylus, this is one of my more self-indulgent pieces, but I like it anyway. Perhaps because I still like this album.
For better or worse, we here at Stylus, in all of our autocratic consumer-crit greed, are slaves to timeliness. A record over six months old is often discarded, deemed too old for publication, a relic in the internet age. That’s why each week at Stylus, one writer takes a look at an album with the benefit of time. Whether it has been unjustly ignored, unfairly lauded, or misunderstood in some fundamental way, we aim with On Second Thought to provide a fresh look at albums that need it.
I wish I could play you “Neighborhood Threat,” the song smack dab in the middle of Tonight, with an unknown singing instead of David Bowie. You might be surprised by it, perhaps noting what a taut, tense song it is, with great, effective backing vocals, full of menace, brimming with energy. But since you know it’s Bowie, and especially since you know it’s from his seriously hated-on Tonight, you dis/miss it fairly out of hand: “Oh, it’s from that album with ‘Blue Jean,’ that album’s terrible.” But to paraphrase the tagline of MTV’s series Diary, you may think you know Tonight, an album rich in textures with some fine singing—yes, I said “fine singing”—from Mr. Bowie, as opposed to what many have said. But you have no idea.
This isn’t Bowie’s most-hated album—that’s unquestionably its follow-up, 1987’sNever Let Me Down—but it’s a strong number two in the “intensely disliked Bowie albums” sweepstakes. This isn’t a flawless album by any means, either; the cover of the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows” is, shall we say, ill advised (though it does feature a lovely string arrangement). It’s not that it’s so bad, really, but more that it’s so utterly out of time on a 1984 album, in arrangement, in Bowie’s vocals (which are in fact not some of his best, a bit all over the proverbial map, intentional for sure but no more better for that fact). It’s followed by the album’s title track, one of four (out of nine) songs co-written by Iggy Pop, with whom Bowie had recently re-established his friendship. “Tonight” is done as a duet with Tina Turner, then on the cusp of one of the most magnificent comebacks in pop history. The song, however, is a mishmash, with a vaguely reggae-ish beat, some seemingly random marimbas in the bridge, and horns there for the sake of being there, apparently. And Tina sounds as if she’s singing at gunpoint.
I’ve always felt that one of the chief reasons Tonight gets so much flak is because, coming off his greatest commercial triumph (ever, at least in the U.S.), Bowie switched gears (again), ditching Nile Rodgers (who produced Let’s Dance, a fine album not without its own low points, mind you) and ensconcing Derek Bramble and Hugh Padgham behind the boards (the latter later to gain fame working with Phil Collins and Sting). What resulted, in part, is a much—and there’s no other way to say this—whiter album than Let’s Dance. For many, “Let’s Dance” in particular was a return to the sound of “Fame” and “Young Americans,” Bowie triumphantly scaling the white-boy soul mountain. “Blue Jean,” Tonight’s first single, is most definitely no “Let’s Dance,” nor “Modern Love” for that matter. No one’s likely to mistake “Loving the Alien” nor “Dancing with the Big Boys” as productions by the Chic Organization, either.
As for “Blue Jean,” likely the only song you (and most everyone else) remember from the album, I’ll say this: it’s a ridiculous one-off, a silly faux-‘50s faux-rocker with some great sax and some of the sillier lyrics of a career rich in them. It still sounds great on the radio; the best big dumb pop songs always do. It’s as “totally ‘80s” as retro gets, too. Released in any other decade, it would have withered and died, but in the ‘80s, well, Bowie could get away with it, and did. It was his last top 10 single in the U.S.
The album opens with one of the most downright pretty songs in the David Bowie catalog, “Loving the Alien,” which Alfred Soto says is “a nice tune with uncharacteristically great lyrics, but he edges into Bryan Ferry territory (Ferry circa Boys & Girls, when he refused to enunciate syllables, ugh), and the production swamps him.” Soto’s right and he’s wrong. The lyrics are rather great, as evidenced by the song’s first two verses:
Watching them come and go
Yes, Bowie does slide into “Ferry territory” here, but I hear that as a plus, as it fits perfectly with the song’s music, so gorgeously evocative (thanks in no small part to the xylophone). Thanks as well to the song’s proto-ambient keyboard washes (courtesy of Arif Mardin!), “Alien” sets a mood that doesn’t let go long after the song’s finished playing. The musical ascension to the song’s choruses as well is climactic, and fulfilling once we’re there, and the way the song closes, so suddenly, on that single guitar riff is perfect. Contrary to what Soto thinks, I find that the production complements Bowie’s lyrics and voice superbly.
The templars and the Saracens
They’re traveling the holy land
Opening telegrams
Torture comes and torture goes
Knights who’d give you anything
They bear the cross of Coeur de Leon
Salvation for the mirror blind
“Don’t Look Down” features some lovely crooning from Bowie and a loving reference to Rudy Valentino, along with a well-suited, loping beat, while the odd (and Borneo-tastic—what gives?) “Tumble and Twirl” (another co-write with Iggy) is a pleasant enough goof that goes on a bit too long, and a cover of Leiber and Stoller’s “I Keep Forgetting” is inoffensive if random. It’s Tonight’s pair of rockers, however, that leave the most lasting impression.
“Neighborhood Threat” made an impression on me from the first time I heard it. Mind you, when Tonight was released, I was 13, and hadn’t heard the likes of Lownor Scary Monsters (or, for that matter, Ziggy Stardust). Nonetheless, this “Threat” was one I took seriously. Seething with potential menace, featuring one of Bowie’s more ragged and fearless vocals (check the way he lets loose as the song vamps its way out, the way he stretches out his second-to-last “neighborhoooooood threat” at the 2:59 mark) augmented by a stabbing guitar lick and keyboards (both staccato notes and chords) which hold it all together like an egg wash on pastry, this sounded utterly amazing late at night (I first heard it on my local album rock station—imagine such a station playing such a song these days!), but sounds just as fine by the light of day. And that Oompa Loompas-on-drugs “ee-ee-ah-ah-oh-oh” in the song’s bridge sucked me in for good. The threat in “Neighborhood Threat” is palpable.
Of another nature entirely is the album-closing Iggy Pop collabo “Dancing with the Big Boys,” which they co-wrote with lead guitarist Carlos Alomar and sing together as well. Seemingly pointless—at least, I certainly can’t discern one—“Big Boys” is a string of non-sequiturs strung together without rhyme or reason.
Something’s going on in society
Apart from chants of “big boys” and “dancing with the big boys,” those are the complete lyrics of the song. “Your family is a football team” in particular has always stuck with me. I mean, really, what the fuck, guys? There’s random non-sequiturs and then there’s that. You’d think you could explain it away with drug use, but I think Bowie, at least, was clean by ’84. The snare drum and cymbals turn on a dime, though, and musically, this one of the more straightforwardly interesting cuts on Tonight (nice horn charts, too). Few fail the way Bowie can, but few can make the oddest songs, like “Big Boys,” work the way he can, either.
You chew your fingers and stare at the floor
One wrong word and you’re out of sync
Talking bout a hands on policy
Death to the trees
They weren’t bad, they weren’t brave
Nothing is embarrassing
There are too many people, too much belief
Where there’s trouble there’s poetry
Your family is a football team
This dot marks your location
Loneliness in a free society
This can be embarrassing
Tonight is not a great album. It is, however, a good album, and perhaps more importantly, it’s a much better album than you think it is, or may have been led to believe. Bowie’s made some subpar records, but this isn’t one of them—and frankly, even its failures are boring, because, well, it’s an ‘80s Bowie album, from a decade in which he was wildly inconsistent, but also never dull. And remember: your family is a football team.
Most of the rest of the wall over my desk at home. I love $0.50 45s.
Part of the wall over my desk, at home. All thanks to Amoeba Music’s clearance 45 section.
re: Whitney
Just a thought: what if Clive Davis had handed Whitney over to Barry Manilow (like he did her aunt for the warm bath of 1980’s Dionne) instead of Narada Michael Walden, et.al.? Might she have become a darker-skinned Celine Dion instead, and not reverse-crossed-over, and not have met Bobby Brown? Meaning, might she still be alive?
Flipping through the Grammys via DVR, the morning after
-Can’t be bothered to watch Bruce’s inevitably earnest new “anthem.” It’ll be named Rolling Stone’s single of the year in 10 months.
-Wow, that clip of Whitney singing “I Will Always Love You” at the prime of her powers? Just wow.
-Bruno Mars is like Billy Joel’s An Innocent Man album rewritten as a fucking ’60s soul revue. I want someone to stab him in the throat.
-More Bonnie Raitt and less Alicia Keys, please.
-The only person whose acceptance speeches I plan to watch is Adele’s, because she’s so effortlessly, goddamn charming. And how about that 60 Minutes segment in which she revealed that she secretly worked at the Rough Trade shop between 19 and 21? Yay!
-If you can’t be bothered to fucking sing live, you have no place onstage at the Grammys. That means you, Chris Brown. [Addendum: and that means you, too, Rihanna.]
-Funny how I press “play” without hesitation when Reba walks onto the stage.
-Are Foo Fighters playing in the Sahara Tent? Also, is Jack Black still a “star”? Does anyone still like his tired shtick?
-Because what everyone wants is to hear Maroon 5 and Foster the People singing 50-year-old Beach Boys songs, while Ryan Seacrest pretends he’s Dick Clark on Bandstand. Ugh. Why not just put a big banner behind Brian Wilson’s embalmed corpse that reads “TICKETS ON SALE SOON FOR OUR REUNION TOUR!”
-Because what everyone wants is to hear McCartney doing supper-club jazz. *eyeroll*
-I’m not a fan of Taylor Swift’s by any means, though I’ll grudgingly admit that “Mean” is her best single yet, but I give her a lot of credit for boosting the Civil Wars. And I’m open to the possibility that, as she gets older, there’s good art in her yet. Especially if she’d stop writing about her bad high school boyfriends.
-Someone really needs to fucking murder Katy Perry. Talentless piece of shit.
-Yes, I’m aware that I’m coming off as a cranky old man. I’ve been working towards this for 20 years, people.
-This performance of “Gentle On My Mind” by the Band Perry is really nice. Blake Shelton sounds good on “Southern Nights,” too, though it wish it hadn’t been quite so obvious that he’s singing off the teleprompter. And in case it’s not obvious, this tribute doesn’t hold a candle to the Gill/Paisley/Urban tribute at November’s CMAs.
-Bon Iver: “It’s really hard to accept this award…” Then don’t accept it, you douchebag, give it to someone who actually wants it. You pretentious bag of fuck. No one required you to show up.
-Why the hell isn’t Jennifer Hudson a bigger star? UH-MAZ-ING voice. Love the blown out hair, but really - body glitter? Oh, honey. That said, killer vocal on a not-easy-to-sing song. Love her.
-Love the staging for the Foos/Deadmau5 thing, and even though I’m not a fan, I think it’s kinda great to see Deadmau5 performing on the Grammys. But boy, could this be more fish-out-of-water? *chuckling* OMG there’s a drop!
-There’s a very obvious reason the “electronic” segment and Nicki Minaj were after the 3-hour mark: Grammy producers were clearly terrified of tune-out factor by anyone over 40. Give Minaj credit, though: this is like nothing I’ve ever seen on the Grammy telecast. It doesn’t entirely work, but it’s fascinatingly bizarre.
-Diana Ross really needs some new wigs.
-Adele, honey, you’re queen of the world. Enjoy it. I can still hardly believe she’s in her early 20s. But she’s completely and utterly earned it.
Kellie Pickler, ‘100 Proof’ (2012)
My first, immediate response to Kellie Pickler’s new album is shock. The first 4 songs suggest that there IS, in fact, “more where that came from,” as if it’s some sort of ersatz sequel to Lee Ann Womack’s stunning 2004 album. These songs are serious classic country, all steel guitars and tears and a singer who seems to have found her voice - and a surprising one at that. From there, things get decidedly more commercial - truckers’ salute (and when’s the last time you heard one of those?) “Little House on the Highway” could easily be re-sung by Rascal Flatts and be a huge smash. (For that matter, so could Pickler’s version, & hopefully her label will release it as a future single.) But the tone’s been set, or re-set.
And look at that cover! It’s totally Tammy, updated.
But for the most part, even the more contemporary-sounding material has a difference to it, a certain je ne sais grit, like first single “Tough,” in which Pickler makes it clear that she’s not a cutesy-poo high-heel-wearing poptart. Considering who she shows up super-glammed at every single country awards show, she’s not fooling me - but I’m buying anyway. It’s a great single, very country in a way her buddy Taylor Swift only hints at most of the time, and works mighty fine as a statement of new(ish) intent.
Pickler came out of ‘American Idol’ a number of seasons back as a bubbly, ditzy blonde, akin to early Dolly Parton without the songwriting chops. But she’s done plenty of on-the-job learning, because a song like “Arm Candy” could’ve been a single for Jeannie C. Riley back in ‘73 - this is the kind of bubbly, silly, cute-but-not-cloying record that Nashville doesn’t make anymore. That Pickler can then turn around and cut a song like “Turn On The Radio and Dance,” all brushed snares and a guitar line straight out of a Chris Isaak song, is a testament to who she’s become. Not to mention that her control of her voice has become awful impressive, as evidenced on the big notes of “Stop Cheatin’ On Me.” From an unlikeliest place has come the first contender for the best country album of 2012. This is the real stuff. A-
This was published at http://www.stylusmagazine.com on 2/5/07. I still think it’s one of the better things I’ve written.
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Stylus Magazine’s Seconds column examines those magic moments that arise when listening to a piece of music that strikes that special chord inside. That pounding drum intro; a clanging guitar built-up to an anthemic chorus; that strange glitchy noise you’ve never quite been able to figure out; that first kiss or heartbreak; a well-turned rhyme that reminds you of something in your own past so much, it seems like it was written for you—all of those little things that make people love music. Every music lover has a collection of these Seconds in his or her head; these are some of ours. Start at 3:18, just after Paul’s sung his last line (“Faded flowers wait in the jar / Till the evening is complete”). That’s when that heavenly chorus comes in, just singing a cloud of “Ahhhhhh.” The voices in this mastery of overdubbing are simply Paul, Linda (of course), and 10cc’s Eric Stewart, but thanks to Stewart’s vocal arrangement may well be the most gorgeous piece of vocalization this side of the chorus closing 10cc’s own “I’m Not in Love.” It’s as ethereal as Cocteau Twins and as meaning-filled as anything Paul’s ever sung post-Beatles. If only these massed singers—and then, the horns come in!—were an entire album, it’d be the best album Macca’s never made. Alas.
That’s not the only lovely vocal moment in “Take It Away”; Stewart’s also responsible for the weaving “oooh’s” that embellish the rest of the song (again, the Paul-Linda-Eric triad), and we haven’t even discussed that this song features what may be one of Paul’s most confident, assured lead vocals ever. Compare any of his verses with his first chorus following a verse—he goes from sweet to tough, sounding as solid as Ashford & Simpson’s rock. This is the sound of a professional, someone who truly knows what he’s doing. I mean that only as the highest possible compliment.
Paul’s not the only professional who deserves credit for “Take It Away,” either. George Martin slid back behind the boards for Tug of War, Macca’s 1982 “comeback.” (No, he hadn’t really gone anywhere per sé, but it was his first #1 US album since ‘77’s Wings Over America—and, interestingly, his last top 10 untilFlaming Pie 15 years later.) Martin polished every inch of Tug of War to a rich, buttery sheen, but none more than “Take It Away,” the album’s clear money shot, intentionally or not.
Martin makes Ringo (yes, Ringo) a better drummer, even if all he’s really required to do here is keep a sturdy 4/4; Martin brings out the best in Paul’s bass playing (that loping cod-reggae riff that opens the song—really!); and Martin’s a highly underrated pianist (he played on numerous Beatles singles, but did you know?), attacking the electric piano riff that underpins the proceedings with delightful gusto—delight you can hear in his playing. Credit Martin, as well, with the song’s superbly snazzy horns; “Take It Away” would be maybe 2/3 of its end sum without them.
Sirs Martin and McCartney must have known what they had here, because thejoie de vivre of “Take It Away” is indisputable: its thundering (like horses) choruses, its whipped cream-fluffy bridge, the way it all comes together in utter, making-it-sound-so-simple perfection. And like all great singles it knows when to take its leave, fading out as the song approaches the 4:00 mark. If “Take It Away” doesn’t convince you of Paul’s genius as a solo artist—for the record, I’m not a particularly big Beatles fan—nothing ever will. This is, as they say, as good as it gets.
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
I’m gonna start re-posting some entries from my old blogspot blog, piecemeal. Starting with this.
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Made myself some new mixes for the first time in eons over the weekend, titled Roadtrippin’ 2004.
Volume 1
01 50 Cent f/Snoop Dogg and Lloyd Banks, “P.I.M.P. (Remix)”
02 Aaron Hall, “Don’t Be Afraid (from Juice)”
03 Puff Daddy f/Mase and the Notorious B.I.G., “Been Around the World”
04 Ol’ Dirty Bastard, “Brooklyn Zoo”
05 Diana Ross, “My Old Piano”
06 Heatwave, “Groovline”
07 Cheryl Lynn, “Encore”
08 Groove Armada f/Sunshine Anderson, “Easy”
09 Earth, Wind & Fire, “Fantasy (Blaze Shelter DJ Mix)”
10 Chaka Khan, “What Cha’ Gonna Do For Me”
11 Stardust, “Music Sounds Better With You (12” Mix)”
12 little minx, “03.08.03 audioblogger post”
13 Seal, “Fly Like An Eagle (from Space Jam)”
14 Steely Dan, “Time Out of Mind”
15 Jam & Lewis, “The New Style”
16 Jay-Z, “Regrets”
17 The Notorious B.I.G. f/Nas, K-Ci & JoJo, “Everyday Struggle (Remix)”
This volume should either be subtitled “rest your head on my tattooed chest” or “fuck around get sprayed with Lysol,” I think. The best (and most natural) flow of all three volumes; I especially like the opening 1-4 hiphop punch (“Afraid” isn’t hiphop, but it’s of hiphop), and the ol’ skool R&B/disco-ish block in the middle.
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I should re-make this mix, cuz it looks pretty good.
Still absolutely epic - this is one of the finest hip-hop tracks of the past decade.
