music

[8] Björk, ‘It’s Oh So Quiet’

Does this annoy the hell out of you? My deep love for Björk extends even as far as show tunes and ludicrous Busby Berkeley videos. Her dancing’s woeful, but she’s a game girl.

As is the fickle public’s wont, this became her biggest hit, as out of place as it is. I propped Junior up on the back of the smaller sofa so she could bathe in the music and watch the pretty lights on the mixer. Mesmerised. There was still some debate about where the song was coming from – the CD racks? The record decks? Another dimension? Hell, maybe the speakers? Until she susses it out, I think my stereo’s safe.

Björk’s odd mixture of Icelandic, cockney and Mancunian sounds even more bizarre on this record. The brass stabs failed to make Junior jump despite our fears, but she took the shushes to heart.

[9] Method Man featuring Mary J Blige, ‘I’ll Be There For You/You’re All I Need To Get By’

This record scares me. It’s a decent Puff Daddy mix for a start, and then there are the discordant, eerie Blige vocals hovering in the background, not to mention the sound of Method Man declaring undying devotion. It’s almost as threatening as Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You’.

It has presence and power; I suppose that’s why I placed it so high. Not enough power, mind you, to distract Junior from scratching her mum’s dressing gown while she sends her emails. For now, Mum and Dad will remain the most fascinating objects in the universe, vying only with the Rollaround balls and sofa cover.

I only noticed today that Ashford and Simpson wrote ‘You’re All I Need To Get By’ in its original form. They built it up, and built it up, and built it up and now it’s solid.

[10] Blur, ‘The Universal’

That clever-clever Clockwork Orange video, the voguish thought-control paranoia of the lyric, the clean lines and tuneless faffings of The Great Escape: Blur were a funny old mixed bag in 1995. Parklife – half a very good album – gave them too much fame and they didn’t know what to do with it. I don’t know if they intended to skewer it with half-baked songs, but it was a sterling effort.

‘The Universal’ is one of two exceptions, to these ears. It’s singalong (ooh, “ironic” karaoke), has some fine trumpet interludes, satisfying use of strings and it builds to a crescendo rather like the Pet Shop Boys’ ‘Jealousy’. 

Junior jumped when the strings came in, but soon relaxed as her dad did his near-legendary violin mime. She did the head-rock again, for a moment resembling a classical cellist, and rounded things off with a few of her favourite lip-smacks like an Albarn relishing his Gorillaz cash.

You can almost hear Graham Coxon sneering that he never liked hits anyway.

[11] D’Angelo, ‘Brown Sugar’

To go with her shoulder rolls, Junior’s been learning a new dance move. It involves rocking her head from side to side, and got a good airing to D’Angelo. Dad was clicking his fingers on the snap of the beat. Junior could see it was apt comment on this crisp, cool-as-frozen-cubes-of-sweet-potato-baby-meals record.

‘Brown Sugar’ is as smooth as particularly unruffled silk. It’s sparse yet polished, with dashes of strings and tinkles of hammond, and it drifts by in a smoky haze. You’d fall asleep if it wasn’t so insidiously funky. D’Angelo was riding the crest of the “nu soul” wave, Maxwell, Erykah Badu and Jill Scott in his wake, but it all came to nothing in the end. None of them pressed the garish commercial buttons.

10 down, 10 to go. Gets a bit more obvious now. Robson & Jerome, Rednex and Celine Dion all still to come.

[12] Parliament Funkadelic & P-Funk Allstars, ‘Follow The Leader (D&S Remix)’

This is awash with da funk. A George Clinton cover of Eric B & Rakim’s last hurrah, that takes the scary hip-hop chiller and slows it down, slips in some Flavor cold lampin’ and grooves it up to the max. It’s not the lead single mix – which does all the above at a murkier level – but it’s the version with the closest mothership connection. If you haven’t heard it, I’ll do you a tape.

The first record of the day always has an advantage with Junior. She’s at her freshest (and flyest) and she hasn’t yet remembered her stacking cups. It’s a 12” single again, so it’s a chance to grin at Dad standing at the decks. 

It’s also a chance to get down p-funk stylee and scratch the sofa. Her feet don’t fail her now.

[13] Radiohead, ‘Fake Plastic Trees’

Now – forget your standard rock candidates – The Bends is The Best Air Guitar Album In The World… Ever! I could never be doing with all that angsty navel-gazing ‘Creep’ stuff, so imagine my surprise when ‘My Iron Lung’ turned up with its friends in tow, with all that melody, warmth, heart and biceps. There was no better album in 1995.

‘Fake Plastic Trees’ doesn’t call on your Aircaster. Junior sat back and listened to her dad’s early morning cracked voice singing along, only livening up with a few giggles and leg-slaps when the soothing keyboard line came in towards the end. It’s a soft, sleepy record about, erm, plastic surgery or something and the, er, fragility of the psyche, living up to modern ideals. Help me here. Ah, it’s beautiful and affecting, whatever.

The whole warmth and melody thing became a bit of a millstone for Radiohead, of course, so they set about excising it from their oeuvre. 

‘There There’ is the only song on Hail To The Thief that I ever play.

[15] Supergrass, ‘Alright’

This record is for the kids, isn’t it? Perfect. Junior practised sitting up in front of me, and we played an approximation of pat-a-cake to the jaunty tune. She became a little vexed at “keep our teeth nice and clean”, believing Coombes and co were being insensitive about her current toothless status, but otherwise it passed without mishap.

And a jaunty tune is what it amounts to. Even at the time, I wasn’t a huge fan of the song, but I loved Supergrass. Still do. A great live band too, and they’ve never enjoyed the acclaim that was their due. In It For The Money is a fiver in all good record shops. There’s no excuse. Failing that, the Best Of is almost fault-free.

Advert over. In the pub last night, a friend and regular reader tried to guess the rest of the singles in this chart. He managed to name the whole Top Four but, with cunning dissembling, I drew him off the scent. 

Ah.

[16] The Chemical Brothers, ‘Leave Home’

When this came out, I thought I was hearing the future of music. Now that the Lo-Fidelity Allstars bestride the globe, I see that I was correct. 

Oh, come on. Fatboy Slim was quite successful.

One of the loudest records I own, this. The 12” was jumping all over the shop this morning though, so I had to dig out the Greatest Hits CD where this track doesn’t have quite the same punch. The block rockin’ beats still had Junior leaping about (with assistance, natch). She could see a future where techno and hip-hop link arms and breakdance to a Special K-fuelled tomorrow.

I think Noel Gallagher ruined The Chemical Brothers too – “How does it feel like..?” The rap sheet extends.

[17] Oasis, ‘Some Might Say’

So we come to Oasis’ last good single (don’t give me that ‘Wonderwall’ rubbish). A great tune, some – gasp – modern audio effects, a stirring chorus, the usual Noel guff in the lyrics. I read an interview with him last year, where he spoke with wonder about the fans who “understand lyrics I don’t even know the meaning of. ‘Stand up beside the fireplace, take that look from off your face’, what’s that all about? Even I don’t know!” Of course you don’t, Noel. You just threw your magnetic poetry set up in the air again.

Junior insists on standing up on her mum’s lap for this. We already know she likes the rock, and in her bell-bottomed flowery denim dungarees she looks the part. Well, she looks like a Slade fan, but what’s the difference? She pats her thighs and bends her knees with the rhythm.

‘The Hindu Times’ was very sort of ok, I suppose, but really, that bird has flown.