Tag Archives: singer-songwriters

Monday Melody: Pretty Pimpin’ (Kurt Vile)

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The Monday Melodies are intended to pay homage to songs I like from the past, but I’d like to make an exception this week and include a new song. Lately I’ve been hearing some good and interesting indie rock and pop on a local radio station that doesn’t play the usual Top 40 hits.

Kurt Vile‘s “Pretty Pimpin'” is musical crack. His style is like a cross between Tom Petty (who he names as one of his influences) and ’90’s alternative such as Beck. The video features Kurt, appearing disheveled and either confused, high, or severely dissociated, possibly in a fugue state. The lyrics describe what sounds like a very unpleasant dissociative experience, in which the protagonist looks in the mirror and doesn’t recognize himself. Yet Kurt’s delivery is oddly unemotional and disconnected, as if he’s describing the experience of someone else, which is exactly what dissociation feels like.

I’d like to include this comment from the lyrics page, which I think nails the meaning of the song:

The song’s narrator likely suffers from Depersonalization Disorder, a dissociative mental disorder in which one feels disconnected or estranged from one’s body, thoughts and emotion.

The song uses subtle changes in its repeating verses, progressing through different manifestations of this disorder. As the narrator interacts with himself in the mirror, he begins with the first person pronoun “I” and later moving toward more uses of the third-person “he.”

The upbeat song ends with a gradual fade-out, which you don’t hear much anymore in modern music.

I woke up this morning
Didn’t recognize the man in the mirror
Then I laughed and I said, “Oh silly me, that’s just me”
Then I proceeded to brush some stranger’s teeth
But they were my teeth, and I was weightless
Just quivering like some leaf come in the window of a restroom

I couldn’t tell you what the hell it was supposed to mean
But it was a Monday, no a Tuesday, no Wednesday, Thursday, Friday
Then Saturday came around and I said “Who’s this stupid clown blocking the bathroom sink?”

All he ever wanted was to be someone in life that was just like
All I want is to just have fun
Live my life like a son of a gun
I could be one thousand miles away but still mean what I say

Then I woke up one morning
Didn’t recognize the man in the mirror
Then I laughed and I said, “Oh silly me, that’s just me”
Then I proceeded to not comb some stranger’s hair
Never was my style

But I couldn’t tell you what the hell it was supposed to mean
Because it was a Monday, no a Tuesday, no Wednesday, Thursday, Friday
Then Saturday came around and I said “Who’s this stupid clown blocking the bathroom sink?”
But he was sporting all my clothes
I gotta say I’m pretty pimpin

All he ever wanted was to be a man
But he was always a little too cute to be admitted under “marbles lost”
He was always a thousand miles away while still standing in front of your face

Then he woke up this morning
Didn’t recognize the boy in the mirror
Then laughed and said, “Oh silly me, that’s just me”
Then I proceeded to brush some stranger’s teeth
But they were my teeth, and I was weightless
Just quivering like some leaf come in the window of a restroom

And I couldn’t tell you what the hell it was supposed to mean
Cause it was a Monday, no a Tuesday, no Wednesday, Thursday, Friday
Then Saturday came around and I said, “Who’s this stupid clown blocking the bathroom sink?”
But he was sporting all my clothes
I gotta say pretty pimpin

I woke up this morning, didn’t recognize the boy in the mirror [x6]

Monday Melody: Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters (Elton John)

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I’ve always had a weak spot for Elton John tunes, especially ballads penned by his long-time partner and collaborator, Bernie Taupin. “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” is one such ballad from John’s 1972 album Honky Chateau. Why this moving and meaningful song never became a hit (and why the despicable, irritating “Crocodile Rock” did instead) I have no idea.

It’s also a song that makes me cry every single time I hear it.

I love the slow buildup, but it never overpowers you. The lyrics touch your heart without being too saccharine. It’s gritty like the big city it serenades but it’s tender at the same time. The simple message seems to be that at the end of the day, as Barbra Streisand sang, “people who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” No man is an island and all that.

Because it was never a hit (and I never owned a copy of “Honky Chateau”), the first time I heard “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” was in 2000, when I heard it in the movie “Almost Famous” (an incredibly good movie and if you haven’t seen it you must!)

I’m sorry about this being a day late.

Monday Melody: Year of the Cat (Al Stewart)

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There are some songs you just never grow tired of. I clearly remember the first time I heard Al Stewart‘s “Year of the Cat” because I heard it in a dream. There’s only one other song I first heard while I was asleep and became incorporated into my dream (Lifehouse’s “Halfway Gone,” 2009). There’s something magical about hearing a song in a dream that always remains with you and makes the song seem more special somehow. You almost feel like it came from inside you.

“Year of the Cat”‘s vivid imagery recalls outdoor markets in faraway Eastern places and exotic women in colorful silk dresses. In my dream, during the summer of 1977, I saw all this imagery while on some kind of safari and my male companion–a boy who I had a wild crush on–was serenading me with this song.

I woke up right at the end, during the long instrumental and couldn’t get the song out of my head. I had to have that record, so I rushed out to purchase the 45 RPM. For the next month I listened to it more times than I could count.

It’s a great song, with many layers of instrumentation–violins, piano, guitar,and saxophone, giving it a sensual, even sexy feel. The lyrics are pure poetry. You simply don’t hear lines like “she comes out of the sun in a silk dress running
like a watercolor in the rain” these days.

“Year of the Cat” has a timeless sound and doesn’t sound dated, even 40 years after its release. It could have been made yesterday.

Monday Melody: Society’s Child (Janis Ian)

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Janis Ian, a singer-songwriter whose most well known song was 1975’s hit “At Seventeen,” recorded a much lesser known hit when she was just 16 years old, called “Society’s Child.” Sadly, this song has mostly been forgotten. The last time I heard it played on any radio station was probably in the late 1970s. Classic rock stations don’t play it because it doesn’t really qualify as rock. But the song is a masterpiece, both musically and lyrically. Fortunately, someone was able to get this technologically impressive (for its time) video of Janis singing the song live in 1967 on the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour.

“Society’s Child” has an interesting background. Janis actually wrote the song at the age of 15, imagining a white high school girl dating a black boy and having to deal with her parents’ and teachers’ disapproval of anyone “not of our own kind.” In the song, the girl is forced to end her relationship with her boyfriend because of the prejudice so common at the time (and that unfortunately never really went away).

Janis Ian said she received death threats due to the controversial lyrics, and many radio stations refused to play the song. But she continued to perform it live throughout the years and still does to this day, at the age of 64.

I think Janis looks absolutely stunning in this video, and she really gets lost in the emotion of the song. Maybe it’s only because of the superior quality of the video but it’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact this was taped almost 50 years ago. But there’s a definite innocence there you just don’t see in modern singers.

Monday Melody: Walking in Memphis (Marc Cohn)

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I think Monday’s a day everyone could use a little music, so I decided to start a new regular feature on this blog, Monday Melodies. Each Monday, I will feature one song from the past that I really like and share it with my readers. I’ll give a little background about the song and explain why I like it so much.

This week’s selection is “Walking in Memphis” by singer-songwriter Marc Cohn.

This song was a big hit in 1991 and is the only hit for Marc Cohn. He wrote it after a trip to Memphis, Tennessee in 1985 which proved to be a musical and spiritual awakening for him. Many people think Cohn is a born-again Christian because of the line at the end, “Tell me, are you a Christian, child?” in which he replies, “Ma’am, I am tonight!” This is the song’s iconic line. It grabs your attention and pulls the whole narrative together. But Cohn is and was a New York Jew. He’s describing how he felt the pull of the religious fervor (and many would say the Holy Spirit) surrounding him as he sang “Amazing Grace” with 60 year old gospel singer Muriel Wilkins playing piano. (See the Wikipedia entry for more background.)

I love this song because to me, it’s perfect in nearly every way. Cohn’s voice is powerful and emotional, the lyrics are great, and the production isn’t overdone. It’s a song you don’t forget, and I think that’s why it’s still often heard on the radio, even though it’s 25 years old. It’s timeless. The gospel choir at the end gives me chills every time.  The way the song ends reminds me of waking up from a beautiful dream for some reason.