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Best tunes of 2003: #14 The New Pornographers “From blown speakers”

<< #15    |    #13 >>

I’ve said it before and it’ll likely come up again: I was an avid user of Ottawa’s public library services back in the early 2000s.

I didn’t have a lot of money after relocating to Canada’s capital so almost as soon as I updated my drivers license with my new address, I checked out the main branch to start borrowing books. When I discovered they also loaned DVDs and CDs, I started borrowing those as well, often spending hours perusing their virtual shelves on their website for material to request and consume. The three week loan period for CDs allowed for plenty of opportunity to explore and to discover music before making a decision to purchase for the long haul.

I’d previously heard friends talk about The New Pornographers so when I saw the library had one of their albums in their collection, I put in the request and didn’t even have to wait that long for it to arrive at my local branch for pickup. So in this way, “Electric version” was my introduction to Canada’s indie rock supergroup. Of course, I only really googled them for more info after they made a great first impression and I learned then of their background and the various members’ collective experience as part of the Vancouver area music scene. Of their membership, I’d only heard of Dan Bejar (of Destroyer) and Neko Case before, the latter from my friend Tim, who I think was in love with her at the time, and thinking back, he was probably one of the friends that had talked up The New Pornos as well.

“Electric version” was the group’s sophomore record and was seen by those familiar with “Mass romantic” as a tighter and more polished effort, the sound of a real group finding its footing, rather than a collective of individual artists collaborating on a one-off piece, which is what many expected the debut to be. On the followup, there were lots of catchy power pop gems to shake sticks at, but none as immediately captivating as track two.

“Just a contact high, one in every mood I’ve ever declined to fight
One in every single exchange you might find
From blown speakers, time came out magical”

“From blown speakers” is just shy of three minutes and features call and answer guitars and keys, as well as Carl Newman harmonizing with the lovely Neko Case and a plethora of exclamation marks on the snares. It’s an obvious high that we never wanted to come down from.

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

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Best tunes of 2003: #15 Camera Obscura “Suspended from class”

<< #16    |    #14 >>

Well here we are, four days into the new year: 2024. New years bring new hopes and positivity and of course, the promise of new music. Of all the new albums that are hotly anticipated, the long awaited return of Glasgow, Scotland’s Camera Obscura is one of those that will be the most welcome in my books. They had originally hinted at a full return back in 2019, after a hiatus that began with the death of their long-time keyboardist, Carey Lander, in 2015, but then the pandemic pushed things back a few years.

So it’s almost too perfect that this song should come up in my Best tunes of 2003 list, given that Camera Obscura’s sophomore record, “Underachievers please try harder”, was my introduction to band and still one of my favourites of their works. I had picked this one up after reading comparisons to and affiliations with Belle & Sebastian, another Scottish group with whom I was already a fan. And I found myself really digging the twee-heavy indie pop, especially of those sung by Tracyanne Campbell, who would eventually take over all vocal duties with the departure of founding member John Henderson after this album.

“Suspended from class” is the opening number on said album and a perfect mood-setter. It’s a jangly and peppy piece of sunshine pop but if you listen closer and on repeat listens, you’ll realize that there’s a lot more going on here than meets the eye.

“I should be suspended from class
I don’t know my elbow from my arse”

This couplet is more than just a cheeky turn of phrase. It is a play upon words and hearkens back to a time when being “suspended” was the worst thing possible that we could think of to happen to us. It is the punishment for stepping out of line, for doing something that doesn’t follow the heavily regimented rules of the educational system. And here, it is a metaphorical kick in the pants for crossing the friend zone boundary, for taking a chance at something more, and being shrunk back down to size when those feelings go unreciprocated. The morning after, that eternal and timeless moment when regrets are enlarged to colossal catastrophes, tear-soaked pillows and mascara smears are all spelled out in Campbell’s delicate vocals and are felt in each tug on the guitar strings and accentuated by horn flourishes.

This is the kind of thing we’ve been missing for these last eight years. Such great storytelling and musicianship.

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

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Best tunes of 2003: #16 The White Stripes “Girl, you have no faith in medicine”

<< #17    |    #15 >>

I first came across The White Stripes with their third album, 2001’s “White blood cells”. The primary single from that album, “Fell in love with a girl”, came in at number three on my Best tunes list for that year. And I wrote in that very post about their blues-influenced garage rock and their contribution to the early 2000s indie rock resurgence.

For an encore, Jack and Meg White put together what is arguably their best album, critically and commercially, as a group. Recorded in two weeks in the spring of 2002, purportedly without the help of any technology newer than the early 1960s, “Elephant”, their fourth, found favour with a lot of people, placed the group in the hearts and minds of everyone, each player recognized for their instrumental prowess and the album on many best of the year, decade, and century lists. Personally, I found it delightful from many angles, my favourite track a moving target from day to day while I was initially discovering it, finding in it much to pick apart and unpack. In the end, though, it wasn’t their two big tracks “The hardest button to button” or “Seven nation army”*, nor the Burt Bacharach/Dusty Springfield cover “I just don’t know what to do with myself”** but the penultimate track on the album, “Girl, you have no faith in medicine”, that got me going every time.

Interestingly, this track was recorded for and was supposed to appear on “White blood cells”. Meg wasn’t a fan of it, however, so it was pulled and shelved until Jack lobbied hard for it a couple of year later. A lyric that Meg really took offence to was pulled and the track was re-recorded for “Elephant”. Jack being Jack, he used to tease Meg with it when they played it live and changed the lyrics to ‘Meg, you have no faith in medicine’. I don’t know and really don’t want to investigate what the offending lyric was because if Meg thought it misogynistic, I don’t want it to ruin the song for me.

Indeed, the words in this song have always little import for me. Some have talked about its placebo references and linked it to relationships and others have marvelled how White managed to string the word ‘Acetaminophen’ into the lyrics. I just think the song rocks, and that, in an album full of bangers. Meg’s anger with the skins is palpable and Jack is unrelenting on the guitars. He howls and screams breathlessly and dares us all to keep up with him. Sometimes it’s just this energy that you need to feel and absorb and that will get you through.

*The latter of which is played every night in some stadium or arena somewhere on earth.

**Though it is quite fantastic also.

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