I'm Waiting for the Man

 This is the coolest thing I've seen/heard from Keef this century. His low-key approach, the fact that we all know whereof he speaks, and the lack of vocal fireworks on the original, make this a killer combo. 

American Girl

Someone recently asked what the point of the halftime instrumental section towards the end of Tom Petty's "American Girl" is, and whether or not it was just an attempt for them to stretch the song out to be a full 3:30—long enough for a single.

While I think that's a perfectly valid reason to add a section, I doubt it's the reason here. I'd actually argue it's an interesting compositional experiment, using that halftime breakdown in the place where a guitar solo would normally go, and serving a similar function. But it also mirrors the opening section, which is just 18 long bars of D major, leaving no doubt as to what the song's home key is. (Although the bass plays different notes, supplying the harmonic interest in what could otherwise be an overly static section...but which really very much isn't. It's also a nice twist on the usual pedal point situation, which has the bass playing the same note for an extended period, while things change over the top.)

After two verses and two choruses, we get to the instrumental section in question. As mentioned, it shifts into halftime, with a sweet groove courtesy the outstanding Stan Lynch (whose hi-hat work on this song is exceptional, not only providing relentless and energetic forward motion worthy of Benny Benjamin, but choosing some really unusual and extremely tasty places to open his hats). But whereas the intro had just hammered on the tonic, here we move to the V chord. By sticking almost entirely to the dominant, it imbues the section with a slight uneasy feel: we know where the center of gravity is, the center of gravity has been firmly established, and it ain't here. The halftime should make things feel nice and easy, perhaps even a bit lethargic after the workout of the first half of the song. But because we're on the G instead of the D, we're on edge. We're pretty sure we're gonna get back home, but we're not entirely positive. So when we do leave the V and return to the I, and the regular tempo kicks back in, we feel a sense of relief and release, despite the speedy nature.

It's an interesting choice on Petty's part, but then there was a pretty fair amount of formal experimentation in those days. Even leaving aside the things like 20-minute prog epics (oh, "Supper's Ready," you are so silly and so magnificent. I love you madly, "Close to the Edge," and I always will, despite your existence giving birth to the likes of, well, the entire Tales from Topographic Oceans LP), and the interesting and fascinating examples of songs with unrelated musical codas ("Layla" and "Thunder Road" being perhaps the two most successful examples, both of which have more than a little to owe the daddy of 'em all, "Hey Jude"), there's the strange tinkly intro to the Velvet Underground's "Sweet Jane," which seems entirely unrelated. Don't get me wrong, it's lovely, and I dig it...but it has nothing to do with the body of the tune.

(Then again, the "wine and roses" bridge is also strange, which may be why Lou Reed sometimes nixed it when playing live.)

There's the guitar solo section of "My Sharona," which is nothing like the Neanderthal nature of the rest of the tune but instead goes into a sort of if the band Boston played power pop reverie. It's a bizarre tangent down a completely unforeseen sideroad, and absolutely makes the tune, even if it's not one of the first half-dozen things you think of when hearing the song's title.

I've always found the brief "hey" sections after the choruses and before slipping back into the verses strange if effective in Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit," but those are short enough to not really count.

Most of all, of course, if you want to discuss unexpected and seemingly unreleased sections in pop songs, you should probably either start or end with the master: Brian Wilson's uses of a not-dissimilar contrasting section in "Wouldn't It Be Nice" not only also slows things down to a crawl for his sweet teenage pathos:

but the bizarre baroque section in "God Only Knows" comes out of nowhere, has little relation to the rest of the song, shouldn't even remotely work and, of course, is beyond genius.

Listen to that! No matter how many times you've heard it, it's always worth hearing again. Because it should not work. It's so out of nowhere, so out of place, and it somehow—despite coming crazy early in the song, even!—makes perfect sense in the moment. Impossible, and yet there 'tis.

So why did Tom Petty go into that halftime section? My guess: 'cuz it felt great and sounded better.

I'll Be Your Mirror

See, I'm funny in some ways.

Not necessarily funny in a "ha-ha" way, although, well, I like to think that I am? ("Not to brag, but Reader's Digest is considering publishing two of my jokes.")

Anyway. I'm funny sometimes in what I like and what I don't like. More to the point, I'm funny how I seemingly have the ability to like and dislike things at the same time. Like David Lynch movies, mayhap? I really like what he does but really don't like watching it? Does that make sense?

Dan...please...can you just get on with it?

OK.

Here's what I'm talking about today. The song "I'll Be Your Mirror." Written by Lou Reed and produced by Andy Warhol for Velvet Underground's seminal first album with Nico in 1967. This is such a gorgeous song and one of my favorite pieces of music. It is such a lovely little tune. I mean, look at these spare, delicate and oh-so-lovingly intricate lyrics.

I'll be your mirror
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know
I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset
The light on your door that shows that you're home.

When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands
'Cause I see you.

I find it hard 
To believe you don't know the beauty you are
But if you don't, let me be your eyes,
A hand in your darkness, so you won't be afraid.

When you think the night has seen your mind
That inside you're twisted and unkind
Let me stand to show that you are blind
Please put down your hands
'Cause I see you.

I'll be your mirror.

That is just so unceasingly beautiful, isn't it? Lou sure knew how to be a poet, how to channel his inner William Blake and Lawrence Ferlinghetti, when he wanted to.

But. Then, on that amazing first record, Nico sings it. It's one of the three spectacular songs that she sings (along with "Femme Fatale" and "All Tomorrow's Parties") and, I'm sorry and others may disagree with me, but she butchers them all. I just cannot listen to her angular, toneless voice and be entertained. Or moved. And I don't think that I'm alone here.

So. One of my favorite songs ever and I can't listen to it. Dammit.

But maybe I can! Like here:



I believe that's Doug Yule singing lead and Lou on the harmonies from the classic Max's Kansas City show that I used to actually have on a double-sided cassette tape back in college. It's not perfect, but it gets to a little more of a delicate nature of the song.

Then there's this from the alt-country corner, which is getting warmer:




Now, I think it could use a bit more range on the vocal side, and could really benefit from a harmony over the chorus, but there's more of an earnestness here than I hear on the original or even the VU 1972 version, so I appreciate that.

Moving on, now we hit the sweet spot on all levels:




There are quite a few words I could use to describe this. "Stunning" comes to mind - my God, those angelic harmonies! "Near-perfect" is another. This version is so faithful to the original yet also, somehow, so Beck's own. I love it more and more every time I hear it. And could not imagine a version I adore more.

Only then my girl Susie shows up and changes the game once more:




I mean. I MEAN.

Funny thing is (there's that word again) I didn't even know this version existed until a few days ago. Apparently it's not even technically a Susanna Hoffs song, but rather a guest vocal she did on some pre-Bangled early 80s project. And it leaves me breathless each time I hear it. Yes, I am aware that Beck's version is likely the definitive one here, but my blind spot for Susie will never ever go away.

So. To hell with the original. May the great covers of this great tune keep coming. And get better every time.

RIP Lou Reed

“It always bothers me to see people writing ‘RIP’ when a person dies. It just feels so insincere and like a cop-out. To me, ‘RIP’ is the microwave dinner of posthumous honors.” — Lou Reed