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Best tunes of 2003: #9 Belle & Sebastian “Dear catastrophe waitress”

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“Dear. Catastrophe. Waitress.”

Back when I first moved to Ottawa, I was employed at a call center taking calls for a utility company that I will not name here. It was unionized and pretty good pay and I was often able to pick up extra shifts to pay down my student debt. And if they hadn’t closed up shop in 2006, I might even still be working there today.

My coworkers were good people and management understood that taking calls was a tough job so they were often looking for ways to improve office morale. They held plenty of social events, encouraged fun, theme days in the office, and offered prizes for keeping call times low, call quality high, and for perfect attendance. While I was rarely in the top for call times and my quality was middling at best, I never missed work days, which meant collecting a hundred dollar gift card at the store of my choice for perfect attendance once a year. Of course, my store of choice back then tended to be HMV Canada, which allowed me to score a handful of CDs. The second year I got my gift card, my trove of purchases included the newly released sixth album by Belle and Sebastian, “Dear Catastrophe Waitress”.

I had been a fan of the Glaswegian twee pop collective for a few years by then, having been introduced to them by a friend in my final year of university. I had taken quickly to their first three albums, all of which had been released in just as quick a succession in the last few years of the 90s. And it was really on the backs of those that I bought the compact disc. I hadn’t taken as hastily to their fourth record, “Fold your hands child, you walk like a peasant”, though I’ve since grown to appreciate it, and the same went for 2002’s “Storytelling”, which was sort of the soundtrack to the 2001 Todd Solondz film of the same name*. Happily, I found “Dear Catastrophe Waitress” a complete shift in gears and a revitalization of Belle and Sebastian’s sound. There was tons to like and pick through and I spent a lot of time doing so**.

“I’m sorry that you seem to have the weight of the world over you
I cherish your smile
There’s a word of peace on your lips
Say it, and with tenderness I’ll cherish”

“Dear Catastrophe Waitress” is now one of my favourite albums by Belle and Sebastian and the title track is easily my favourite on the album. Track two is just over two minutes in length but it’s a frenetic two minutes. Like an ill run, short-staffed restaurant at lunch time, slammed by ornery and ignorant tourists. After two repetitions of the title, frontman Stuart Murdoch launches hard into an ode to the under-appreciated waitress. Meanwhile, the drums are non-stop and the symphony of horns and strings are all ramped up in keeping up, a cacophony of cartoon sounds, the coyote and roadrunner conspiring together.

By the end, we are all left breathless and sad. But ready to start it all over again.

*Which I also didn’t really like and unlike the previous album, I still don’t really like this one.

**I even picked up a novel from the library by Brendan Halpin, an author I had never heard of, a few years after the album’s release, simply because it borrowed the album’s title for its own. (It was an enjoyable read.)

For the rest of the Best tunes of 2003 list, click here.

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100 best covers: #35 Michael Andrews and Gary Jules “Mad world”

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I used to be a massive horror buff.

It started off with me reading “The Body”, one of four novellas in Stephen King’s “Different seasons”, because I learned that it was the story upon which “Stand by me”, one of my favourite movies at the time, was based. And because I flew through it in a matter of a couple of days and I still had a few weeks on my Bowmanville Public Library loan, I read the other three in the series*, loving those as well. From there, I read “The shining”, “The Dead Zone”, “It”, “The Stand”, “Christine”, “Carrie”, and when I finally ran out of King books, I moved on to Dean Koontz, Anne Rice, and Clive Barker. It wasn’t long before I was ploughing through the Horror section at our local video rental store. If it was scary, freaky, or even just a little bit creepy, I loved it. I even still distinctly remember lining up at the Cumberland theatres in Toronto with Ryan, my roommate at the time, to see “The Blair Witch project” and walking out dazed at the end, adrenaline still coursing through my veins.

It was “28 days later” that ruined me. I borrowed the DVD from the Ottawa Public Library and watched it alone** late one night, all the way to the end, even watching all the alternate endings. The fast moving zombies and almost credible storyline creeped me out beyond belief and stuck with me for months. I haven’t been able to watch anything else that was close to resembling a zombie film***, or any horror or otherwise supernatural film for that matter, that was released post 9/11.

I say all this in relation to today’s 100 best covers post because I have still yet to see the film “Donnie Darko”, the soundtrack for which this song was originally recorded, and more than likely, never will. I know that it was a small indie production with a great cast and though it didn’t make a lot of money when it was first released, falling victim to general unease about its content following September 11, 2001, it built up a cult following in the years that followed and is now considered a classic of the genre. I also know that its soundtrack was very well regarded, the score put together by songwriter Michael Andrews, whose only previous work was on a little known indie film and couple of television shows, most notably “Freaks and geeks”. Inspired by Ennio Morricone, Andrews wanted to include a proper song on the otherwise instrumental score and so enlisted his childhood friend and musician Gary Jules on a cover of the Tears for Fears single “Mad world”. The song was featured in the film’s closing sequence and garnered so much attention that it was released as a single a few years later, in 2003, and closed out the year on top of the charts.

Tears for fears’ original was also a massive hit when it was first released as a single, the band’s third, decades earlier, back in 1982. It is new wave percussive melody, sinister and eerie synths and industrial beats, over which lie the inimitable vocals of Curt Smith. It is slower and sombre at the verses but picks up at the choruses, just enough to dance to, much like the Roland Orzabal does on the dock in the music video. As austere as the original might sound, the Michael Andrews and Gary Jules cover is even more stripped back. A pure and simple, slowed down, melancholic piano at the beginning with Gary Jules’ soft touch on vocal, almost a whisper in the wind. The music builds slowly, more in scope than in tempo, but remains steadily haunting.

As much as I love the original, this cover is an example**** of where the remake doesn’t just copy, pay homage, or build upon the original, but it takes it to somewhere else entirely and it takes on a life of its own. Apologies to all the old fellow new wavers out there, advantage to the cover.

Cover:

Original:

*Also included in that book is “Rita Hayworth and Shawshank redemption”, upon which you all know the film that is based.

**Because Victoria, my girlfriend (at the time) and now, my lovely wife, was never able to watch scary films.

***Not even “Shaun of the dead”.

****And there’s going to be a few more of these to come.

For the rest of the 100 best covers list, click here.

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Tunes

Best tunes of 2003: #10 The Postal Service “Nothing better”

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If memory serves, it was Jezreel, a former call center colleague and friend, that got me into The Postal Service.

I had, up to then, only just discovered Death Cab for Cutie, Ben Gibbard’s primary outfit, and their recent album “Transatlanticism”. Posters of the telltale crow pulling on a strand of yarn from its cover was, for a time, plastering the windows of ‘Record Runner’, the indie music store I had taken to frequenting after relocating to Ottawa a few years before. The name and the image had piqued my curiousity enough to get me hunting down tracks on the Internet and then borrowing a copy of the CD from the main branch of the public library, which was how I discovered music I couldn’t afford to buy back then. Some time shortly after, Jez handed me a burnt CD* one day at work with the words “Postal Service” and “Give up” chicken-scratch-scrawled on it in blue marker. Taking it home, I recognized the voice but found the sound very different from the Death Cab songs I had been becoming infatuated with. Nonetheless, all ten tracks were ear worms and I was hooked.

The Postal Service was a collaboration between the aforementioned Gibbard and electronic artist Jimmy Tamborello, who also performed under the moniker Dntel. Their work together happened over a period of months during a time when Death Cab were inactive and their future uncertain. The two artists would send ideas back and forth on CDRs through the mail two and three songs at a time, which is where they got the idea for their name. Melodies would be layered on melodies, vocals layered on rhythms. The two really only worked together in the studio during the final mixing stage, the rest being done in isolation, collaboration and communication and conversation done old school but the end result was very futuristic in sound.

“Give up” is the project’s one and only proper album, released on Sub Pop records early on in 2003. They had discussed working together again after the album’s unexpected success and indeed, recorded a handful of tracks a couple of years later, but in the end, it was decided that the one album would have to stand. Its magical moment couldn’t be repeated, no matter how much they forced it, and magical it was. But though there’s been no new material to speak of, Ben and Jimmy have gotten the ‘band’ back together every ten years since and toured to celebrate the anniversary of the album’s release**.

“Would someone please call a surgeon
Who can crack my ribs and repair this broken heart
That you’re deserting for better company?”

“Nothing better” was never released as a single for the album but it grew to become one of my favourites nonetheless, reminding me of Human League’s “Don’t you want me”***, which was evidently a big inspiration for this song. The Postal Service track, much like elsewhere on “Give up”, hearkens back to the synthpop genesis of the late 70s and early 80s but with an ear to modern computer sounds, retro futurism, so to speak. It is distorted church organs echoing through a wind tunnel, rife with blowing snow, and then the twitches begin, computer glitches and erratic rhythms, all conspiring to get the body moving. Then, bass synths with LED spotlights do the rest. All the while, Ben Gibbard is plaintively trying to convince the object of his affection not to leave him, dressing up their relationship in optimism and hope, viewing things through technicolour tinted glass. Of course, like “Don’t you want me”, the vocals are call and response, two sides to every story. Seattle indie rock musician, and close friend to Gibbard, Jen Wood channels Susan Ann Sulley, and explains that there are reasons for her departure and that it really is the only course of action. Beautiful and real endearing stuff.

“You’ve got allure I can’t deny
But you’ve had your chance, so say goodbye
Say goodbye”

*The other way we got and traded music.

**I was lucky enough to get to see them perform the album at the 20th year mark.

***One of my first ever exposures to modern music, more on that another time.

For the rest of the Best tunes of 2003 list, click here.