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Best tunes of 2003: #4 Elbow “Fugitive motel”

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I wrote about how I fell in love with Elbow and their first album, 2001’s “Asleep in the back”, in a couple posts about tracks that were amongst my favourites of that year*. Indeed, I became quite obsessed with the Manchester-based quintet, name checking them with all my friends, recommending their music at every chance I got, describing their sound as epic and bombastic. I’m sure my friends got sick of hearing about them and being who they were, took every advantage to rib me and poke fun. I didn’t care. I just pressed repeat.

When I heard a sophomore album was being released, I went out to the local HMV and purchased “Cast of thousands” on CD as soon as it was possible. I didn’t even consider there would be a letdown given my lofty expectations and thankfully, the album didn’t disappoint in the least. Titled for the idea that they enlisted and recorded the Glastonbury crowd singing the refrain of one of the album’s tracks but really evoking how the band doubled down on the followup to their successful debut. Listening to the album over and over again that first week, I came up with a new descriptor for them: beauty, personified.

I distinctly remember taking the CD with me on a trip down to Toronto to visit my friends, Discman company for the long Greyhound bus ride, there and back. I stayed with my friend Tim that weekend, whose birthday it was, if I correctly recall, sleeping on the pullout couch in his basement apartment. On one of the afternoons, a couple of other friends came over and we span tunes, drank beers, ate Pizza Pizza pizza, and played Axis and Allies** for hours. When it was my turn to select the tunes, I slipped on “Cast of thousands” much to the eye rolling of my friends and though I think they got more of an appreciation, I don’t think any of them were entirely sold or as enthusiastic about the album as I was. Maybe it was my fault for talking it up so much. Their loss.

“I blow you a kiss
It should reach you tomorrow
As it flies from the other side of the world”

The second single and track three on the album is “Fugitive motel”. It begins with the barking of dogs off in the distance, followed by sinister guitars, a brushing away at the drums, strings awash, and a lonely piano. Over it all is Guy Garvey’s plaintive vocals, a depth of tone, and a layer of guilt and hurt. His is a protagonist, disheveled and unshaven but unwavering in hope in the face of eternity. It is less a narrative than a feeling – lovelorn and lost and far away. Strong imagery, cinematic in scope, the cheap and seedy hotel room as a prison, a captive in a dream, the whole world desolate and forgotten. But still Guy waits.

*”Red” came in at number twelve and “Any day now” was the top song on the list.

**A strategy game, not unlike Risk but more involved, in which you redo WWII.

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

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Best tunes of 2003: #18 Blur “Out of time”

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Blur’s seventh full-length album, “Think tank”, was their first in a large mittful that I didn’t rush out to purchase upon release. I had been a rabid fan for over a decade by this point and loved everything they did but as I think I’ve mentioned elsewhere in this Best tunes of 2003 series, I didn’t have a lot of disposable funding in the early 2000s and was forced to be excessively discerning in my CD purchases. And though I became familiar with some of its songs*, I didn’t really give the album a good listen until a decade or so later when I purchased it as part of the “21” vinyl box set and really got an understanding for how much I had previously underestimated its value.

Still, it’s a bit of an outlier in their catalogue, being the only album to which founding guitarist Graham Coxon didn’t contribute as a full-time member, only appearing on its final track. He left the group very early on in the recording sessions, after they had started them without him while he recovered in rehab and then, found himself not on the same wavelength as his bandmates**. And while it’s not quite as out there and as experimental as their previous output, “13”, it’s not exactly the accessible pop record that Damon Albarn had promised beforehand. Without Coxon’s influence, “Think tank” really reflects Albarn’s ever changing interests, less focus on guitar and an increased synthetic palette, and of course, it’s painted with a big world music brush.

“Out of time”, just as an example, features an Andalucian string group, a benefit of their having recorded a large part of the album in Marrakesh, Morocco. These strings come in during the latter part of the song, after the rhythm section of Dave Rowntree and Alex James have set the scene with the subdued drum beat and lackadaisical bassline. All the while, Albarn is crooning along to vaguely unintelligible sounds, like he’s performing with an orchestra of ghosts.

“And you’ve been so busy lately
That you haven’t found the time
To open up your mind
And watch the world spinning
Gently out of time“

He is addressing someone, or perhaps a gaggle of someones, who is completely removed from everything else going on in the world and that perhaps that someone is partially and inadvertently contributing to everything that is going on. When the orchestra (of ghosts or of Moroccan musicians) kicks in to gear, it’s like the rest of us should be joining in and rising up together.

*Including this one

**Coxon has, of course, since participated in all of the group’s reunion activities, including the surprise/surprising eighth album, 2015’s “The magic whip”.

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

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100 best covers: #54 Gene “Town called Malice”

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During my fourth year at York University, there was a professor’s strike that stretched from March until May, putting a number of students’ academic years and graduation plans at risk. I was on a five year plan in a four year program, so it was no issue to me in that sense. Really, it just lengthened my year some. However, it did have the added benefit of lulling me into boredom in early spring and got me out searching for a summer job earlier than I would’ve done otherwise. I ended up finding a position in a tool rental shop, a job that I surprisingly fell in love with, that kept me gainfully employed for the remainder of my university studies, and turned into my first post-graduation full-time job.

I was trained by a guy named Angelo that was probably a few years older than myself but spending quite a bit of time together in the store, we grew into a sort of friendship. He also really liked music and though he favoured what I considered to be classic rock, he was always very open to different sounds and exploring new bands. In fact, he always open to all sorts of new ideas and new experiences and we had a lot of great conversations. We have obviously lost touch, since I left the tool rental company and Toronto over two decades ago, but I still have the copy of “The very best of The Jam” CD he purchased for my birthday on behalf of him and our other co-worker, Marco.

We must’ve talked about the British punk-rock trio at some point during that summer of 1997 but I’m sure I wasn’t able to contribute much at the time, perhaps just that Paul Weller was their lead singer and that my friend Andrew Rodriguez was a big fan. The gift* was super appreciated, though, and I spent quite a bit of time with the disc that fall, becoming a convert of the group in the process. So a couple of years later when a tribute album called “Fire & skill” was released, I didn’t hesitate to pick it up. Of course, it didn’t hurt that it featured covers by a bunch of Britpop survivors, like Reef, Heavy Stereo, a song by each of Oasis’s Gallagher brothers (Liam working with Ocean Colour Scene’s Steve Cradock), and Gene.

Long time fans and influenced by The Jam, Gene chose for their entry on this compilation a faithful cover of “Town called malice”, which, incidentally, was one of the few songs I knew of The Jam before hearing the aforementioned compilation. The original appeared on The Jam’s sixth and final studio album, “The gift”, and is three minute northern soul groove wrapped around Paul Weller’s teenaged kicks around his hometown and man, does that rhythm section get you dancing. The cover is slightly fuller sounding, with raunchier guitars, and it’s fun, Martin Rossiter’s vocals always sounding a bit on the side of Morrissey and has you wondering what The Smiths might have done with this song. And though with the extended moments and cleaner production, it doesn’t quite feel as immediate and as honest as the original, it’s still great.

Indeed, I like both versions a lot (and don’t get me wrong, I do love me some Gene) but I’m going with The Jam on this battle.

Cover:

The original:

*Pardon the pun

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