Favorite Songs: Squeeze, “Satisfied”

This band’s 1991 studio album Play doesn’t get much attention at all for some reason, nestled between the perky but low-selling Frank from 1989 and the moody and also-forgotten Some Fantastic Place from 1993. Not that it’s bad, of course. It’s more likely that it dropped right in the middle of a huge wave of American Grunge and UK Britpop. If you were a fan, you loved it, but if you were a passive one, well…

“Satisfied” was the first single off the album to be released in the US, and to many listeners’ surprise, they sounded and looked slick. They were pared down to a quartet (Jools Holland having chosen not to return, most likely due to his ongoing TV projects) so the album sounds less expansive and more cozy, but extremely well-produced. There’s a dreamlike quality to this song, meandering along at its own pace with sighing guitars and keys, and a simple (and very Difford/Tilbrook) set of lyrics about the simplicity and peacefulness of mutual love.

Interestingly, I equate this song with one of the lowest points of my time in college. My long-term/long-distance relationship was coming to a close, I’d lost contact with several of my friends both near and far, I was creatively frustrated and barely scraping by academically. I really felt as though my life had become a long series of ill-advised decisions made more out of desperation rather than inspiration. This was a song I’d hoped would lift my spirits but instead reminded me of just how far I’d fallen from my wishes and dreams of the future.

That said, it’s a banger of a tune and one of my favorites of the second phase of the band’s career. They were now a band that might not show up in the charts as much as they used to, but they didn’t seem too bothered by that. I can hear this song now without the doom and gloom, instead focusing on the wonder of that simple lyric.

Thinking About: more early 90s techno

Another thing that showed up in early 90s electronic music was the seemingly misplaced vocal sample that somehow fit perfectly in the song. I used to love those, partly because I enjoyed the game of ‘hey I know that bit!’ and how creative they slid it into the track.

Like “Papua New Guinea” by The Future Sound of London, whose main vocal line was lifted from Dead Can Dance’s “Dawn of the Iconoclast” (a track off my favorite DCD album, 1987’s Within the Realm of a Dying Sun). Several of my classmates at Emerson loved this track, and they’d play it all the time at the clubs on Landsdowne Street.

….or Utah Saints’ “Something Good”, which made liberal use of Kate Bush’s “Cloudbusting”. I loved cranking this one up in the car when it came on the radio.

Then there’s Apotheosis with “O Fortuna”, lifting the famous choral movement from Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana. This one I remember well because they’d lifted the sample from a classical recording and hadn’t gotten clearance, making the single hard to find.

And then there’s just the downright silly “Sesame’s Treet” by Smart E’s. Somehow they made this work despite how ridiculous it is. Peak Gen-X retromania here, mixing our present and past into one.

Much later in the decade, a friend of mine introduced me to the equally silly “Speed” by Alpha Team, and I literally had a coworker at the record store writhing on the floor in laughter when I played him the breakdown part of the Hardcore Mix (about 3:30 in).

I suppose this is partly why I eventually latched onto electronic music in the 90s, because it wasn’t always about the scene or the vibe. It wasn’t always serious. Sometimes it was just about having fun being creative with the technology you had, even if the output was more for laughs than anything else.

Thinking About: early 90s techno

As mentioned a few weeks back, I’ve been catching up on Orbital, an electronic duo that I passively listened to in the 90s. I was vaguely familiar with a lot of their earlier singles like “Halcyon + On + On”, “Chime” and “Lush 3”, but it was 1996’s “The Box” off their album In Sides that caught my attention, especially with its otherworldly and unsettling music video featuring the always intriguing Tilda Swinton as a time-traveling alien visiting the grimier parts of East London. It’s one of my all-time favorite videos of the 90s and was one of the many influences for the Bridgetown Trilogy.

While listening to them, it got me thinking about my experience with electronic music in the 90s. Even then it had all sorts of different genres and names: techno, house, EBM, electronica, chillwave, trip-hop, and everything in between. If I had to pinpoint when I first started paying attention to this kind of stuff, it was hearing “Chime” on the techno show on WFNX during my freshman year in college. It intrigued me, because it wasn’t exactly the melodic synthpop of the 80s that I was so used to, but nor was it the vaguely creative club music that producers like Stock-Aitken-Waterman were churning out on the regular. To me it was somewhere in between: creative enough that you could groove to it at the clubs, but you could also chill out to it in the comfort of your own home. [Mind you, this was also during the height of rave culture so you could do both while completely blissed out, heh.]

Another track that stood out for me, of course, was Moby’s “Go” with its use of Laura Palmer’s Theme from Twin Peaks as the music bed. Creepy and weird yet somehow hypnotic and groovy. This was well before his huge breakthrough with 1997’s Play.

Trip-hop didn’t quite gel with me right away, as it didn’t get a lot of play on the local alternative stations in Boston at the time other than Massive Attack’s “Unfinished Sympathy”, which also got a lot of attention for its hybrid of dance, soul, and heavy vibe. It wasn’t just about the lyrics or the melody, it was also about the mood, and that kind of thing always captured my attention. It also helped that its one-continuous-take video was so simple yet so cinematic. A lot of the best electronic music in the 90s strived to capture that.

I could go on, of course, but this is merely an overview, so perhaps it’s time for me to do another WiS series!

I wish I was as cool as Calvin

I was introduced to Too Much Joy by my friend Chris back in 1990 when the major label reissue of their second album Son of Sam I Am dropped, and I was immediately hooked. At that point in time I was still listening to far more doom and gloom music than I really should have been listening to, and TMJ was refreshing, noisy and funny but without being too absurdist or corny. I put this cassette in my Walkman quite a lot near the start of my sophomore year when I needed a pick-me-up. Later on in the summer of ’91 I would see them live at the Hatch Shell, where I very nearly got hit by flying glass. Whee!

It’s not a brilliant album by any means, and they’re firmly entrenched in the ‘punk band that definitely doesn’t take itself seriously at all’ genre, but instead of going the meathead drunk-and-partying route, they took the intellectual Gen-X ennui-and-irony route, which caught the attention of several kids my own age. While it never got enough major airplay, they were a firm favorite on alternative radio and retained a loyal fanbase. Years later in 2020/2021 they reunited and have released two new albums since then.

The album ran the gamut between the ‘bad karma thing to do’ action of making fun of bums, to being traumatized by clowns…

…to singing about reincarnation (a song I still know all the words to!)…

…and not just a cover of an LL Cool J song….

…but a cover of the weird-yet-catchy classic by Terry Jacks.

So why a major reissue of an album from 1988 and reissued in 1990? Simple: after thirty-five years, the rights to their breakthrough album finally reverted back to them. They’d gotten the quite-aged masters back and got them cleaned up, and they sound fresh and vibrant once more.

Pure silliness, but I highly recommend this album because it’s just that much fun.

I’ll see ninety-five in Doledrum

It’s funny that I remember this song quite well by the time 1995 rolled around. I’d hoped, back in 1991, that I would be better off and in better emotional shape by then, but alas…

It’s been thirty years since I’d moved out of Boston, and I still think about that from time to time. It was one of the rare moments in my life where I’d said “fuck it, I give up” so utterly completely. But even then I knew that it was the best decision in order to fix a terrible situation. Thankfully I’d been able to transfer my job to a different theater, even though I knew I probably wouldn’t be there for long. I just needed some kind of anchor so I wasn’t completely unmoored. I allowed myself the entirety of September to get all the anger and defeat out of my system before I started fixing my situation.

But in a way, being unmoored to that extent wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I knew I had to change a lot of things in my life. Grow up some. Deal with some personal shit that I’d been avoiding for years. Think about who I was, who I hung out with, and what I wanted and needed to change. Living with the family from ’95 onwards certainly had its own ups and downs, but it remained that steady platform I could build something new on. It gave me time and breathing room in order to do better.

Fast forward thirty years, and here I am, twenty years married and owning our own home. I’m still a writer — one who’s self-released seven books, with another one on the way and hopefully many more in the future. I still have a stupidly large music collection that is still expanding (though thankfully taking up much less space these days). Life still has its ups and downs, but for the most part I’m doing okay.

Was it worth staying there for a full decade? Definitely. I probably could have moved on earlier if I’d planned better and saved more. Sure, I still made a few dumbass decisions here and there, but doesn’t everyone?

Catching up on music…with Pulp

It’s been a long twenty-four years since their last album, 2001’s We Love Life, though like The Cure they’ve been busy off and on in the interim, doing various tours and shows when they can. I’d been a passing fan during their 90s heyday, aware of the classic “Common People” single but little else until 1998’s This Is Hardcore, one of my favorites from the HMV Years. They were yet another band I’d finally get into just when they’re on the back end of their cycle.

Anyway, it’s great to see them back in the spotlight, with a lovely lead single that feels like they haven’t missed a beat at all. I’m yet to sit down and fully experience the new album More, but I’m looking forward to it!

Something’s Got to Give

I mean, yeah, I’m trying not to be overly (or overtly) political here on this site, but sometimes extenuating circumstances call for it. Heard this Beastie Boys track other day on KEXP, one you rarely hear on the radio these days as it’s a rather downbeat track and not one of their Big Hits, but I remember hearing this a ton on WFNX when Check Your Head came out in early 1992. It’s my favorite Beasties album and this is my favorite track of theirs.

Anyway, the KEXP deejay the other day pretty much said what I’ve been thinking lately: this second go-round is mask-off. They’re not even trying to hide it this time. And as A said a few days previous, we knew what happened last time so we’re ready for whatever bullshit he brings along this time out. We’re far more prepared to fight back, and more decisively at that.

They can call us names and spew and inspire hate towards us, and it still hurts just the same. But something’s giving this time. They’re ignoring it at their peril.

I’ve seen better days than this one
I’ve seen better nights than this one
Tension is rebuilding
Something’s got to give
Something’s got to give

All this talk about Bridgetown…

…has given me a hankering to listen to some tunes from the HMV years when I wrote The Phoenix Effect. I’ve mentioned numerous times before that a lot of the music I listened to around that time heavily influenced and/or inspired many of its scenes. But it was also when I had a lot of positive things going on in my life for the first time in ages.

So now the trick is to find some current tunage that can take its place as the writing soundtrack for MU4….I do have a few in mind that have been on frequent rotation here in Spare Oom!

Favorite songs: Isolation

Every now and again I think about this EP, and how it’s affected me over the years. It’s Mark Pritchard of Global Communication and Kirsty Hawkshaw (formerly of Opus III, you know her from two covers: Jane’s “It’s a Fine Day” King Crimson’s “I Talk to the Wind“). I first discovered them on a quirky seasonal compilation called Invocation — the same album that introduced me to Jocelyn Pook. I listened to that album constantly during the final months of 1997 and into 1998, using it as a soundtrack to my writing at the time.

The song itself (Part 1 lasts a bit over eleven minutes, and Part 2 a bit over eight) is what I imagined as the best example of ambient electronic music: there was melody, but there was also mood and atmosphere. It was like the culmination of everything I loved about 4AD bands like Cocteau Twins and Dead Can Dance. It also felt widescreen in my mind. Cinematic in its own way, telling a story with its weavings of highs, lows, bursts and quietness. There was something about it that somehow hit me viscerally, and it felt almost like…a spiritual leaving.

I used that feeling some years later when I wrote a pivotal scene in The Balance of Light with the final moments between Denni and Saisshalé.

This track was actually what got me into Global Communication soon after, picking up both their brilliant 76:14 (highly recommended) and their album of Chapterhouse remixes, Pentamerous Metamorphosis, both of which had recently been reissued in the US. Those two albums, along with Invocation, became some of my favorite go-to albums when writing the Bridgetown Trilogy, especially when I needed something deeply atmospheric.

I haven’t seen this band since my HMV days…

…but tomorrow we’ll be heading across The Bridge to Mill Valley to see The Verve Pipe! I’m really looking forward to this as they’ve been one of my favorite bands for ages, and Villains is one of my top favorite albums of the 90s. (And no, not just because of That Hit Song.)

I think the last time I saw them was in 1997 when they played in Boston with Tonic opening up (remember them as well?). They put on a great show then and I’ve heard their current tour is a lot of great fun too. They’ve mellowed out somewhat but Brian Vander Ark is still one of my favorite songwriters. I’m looking forward to this show!