"Suddenly It's Tuesday" - Part 11 (41-60)

 

I hope you all had a great Christmas, or at least as good a one as was possible under the circumstances. This period between Christmas and New Year is always a strange time, a bit dead and in limbo. However, you can perk things up with a journey through the (almost) top echelons of the Wedding Present's back catalogue. So grab a turkey sandwich and settle into the 40s and 50s of the 'Suddenly it's Tuesday' list...

YouTube Playlist (223 - 41)

Spotify Playlist (41 - 100)

60 Mystery Date

(Valentina, 2012)

Valentina's final track is another of David's 'romantic underdog' songs, the narrator being astonished by a woman giving him her number, which leads him to exclaim repeatedly that 'things like this do not not happen to me'. A touchingly hesitant opening builds into a strident chorus, regroups briefly then bursts into a clattering, abandoned thrash.

The final section is loose and down-tempo, almost jazzy, and features an enigmatic piece of Japanese dialogue which translates as: 'I see you at this park every day / this is an English-style garden / did you came from England? / Did you become homesick? / It seems that way, are you okay? / Do you have a Japanese friend? / If you want, we can become friends? / Here, this is my phone number / call me! / let's go on a date / it might be an exciting date'. 

The Discogs page for Valentina says that Shihoko Takahashi of Japanese band Toquiwa provided 'translation', although it's not her that appears in the video or provides the vocal. Toquiwa (previously known as Pinky Piglets) supported TWP in 2012, always concluding their set with their hyperactively entertaining take on 'Kennedy'.

59 Love Machine

(Mini, 1996)

This tale of being used by a fickle lover ('turn it off, turn it on / now you’re here, now you’re gone'; 'I was your tool / well, didn’t you need a love-sick fool?') is framed around a mid-tempo, two-chord grind that could have been a bit of a plod were it not for two factors. Firstly, there's an achingly beautiful chorus melody that Gedge delivers with convincing passion. Secondly, this is another Mini track where Jayne Lockey's shy, ethereal vocals form a delightful counterpoint to David's emotive growl. To cap it off, there's a delicate little piano-led section that provides a tender, haunting conclusion.

58 End Credits

(Valentina, 2012)

The penultimate song on Valentina is a stirring affair, propelled along vigorously by a double-drummer approach: Charlie's in the left channel; guitarist Graeme Ramsay takes up the sticks on the right. Always exciting live, this performance has Marcus Kain (who played guitar for TWP in 2016-17) on the second kit. It also sees David completely fluff the opening line, which led to this reaction:

Gedge recycles some of the lyric from 2008's 'Pinch, Twist, Pull, Release' ('the closer I get to you, the further I get away from me') but it's the pounding relentlessness of guitar, bass and double drums that make this a thrilling ride.

57 Skin Diving

(Saturnalia, 1996)

A darkly brooding track that features one of Gedge's trademark soaring choruses. It's another infidelity song, the protagonist setting out to persuade the object of his desires to indulge in one last fling ('just this one more time, then I’m gone') and go skinny-dipping ('just take off your things / because this is such a cool place to swim / we should go skin diving and just forget about him'). It simmers with lust, and is rounded off with an impressively grainy and distorted guitar line.

56 Give My Love To Kevin

(George Best, 1987)

The wall of smoothly distorted guitars tells you immediately that we're back in George Best territory. It doesn't do anything especially inventive musically - although the meandering guitar line is rather pretty - but what it does do is capture evocatively a sense of resigned melancholy. Addressed to an ex-girlfriend who's with someone new, the narrator feigns nonchalance ('why should I want to know his name?'; 'why should I be upset - some kid I’ve never met?') but is clearly devastated: 'I just can’t bear to imagine you sharing a bed with him'. We've all been there; we've all had out hearts broken this way; and this is the sound of that sensation. 

There's an acoustic version that's pleasantly understated, but it doesn't have the emotional heft of the original.

55 Can You Keep A Secret?

(4 Songs EP, 2012)

TWP's fourth longest studio song is a deliciously woozy, slow-burn epic. Given the title, it's no surprise that this is a story of unfaithfulness, with references to lies, alibis and flirting that 'went too far'. The song certainly has more self-restraint than the narrator; although it threatens to break out into noisy distortion, its lengthy climax (ahem) is forceful but controlled, and it ebbs away dreamily over the last minute or so. Many of TWP's very best songs feature an impassioned groan or shout from David before an intense finale ('Crawl', 'Catwoman', 'Heather'); here, the little 'hey!' at 4:17 is rather more understated, but that just makes it all the more moving.

Perhaps the very definition of an overlooked little gem, this is the one song that isn't on Spotify and is missing from the Top 100 playlist. (It also wasn't on YouTube until I put it there.)

54 Something And Nothing

(George Best, 1987)

One of the strengths of TWP's early material is the way that it captures the awkwardness and misunderstandings of youthful relationships. 'Something' is filled with phrases we're all familiar with from this part of our lives: 'oh, you’ve noticed that I’m here, now please spare the dirty look'; 'would you like to go out? Oh, pardon me for breathing!' It fizzes with exuberant, frantic guitar; then, just as you think it's locked onto a fairly obvious outro, it sidesteps (at 3:18) into an intense, emotional jangle that lays bare the narrator's insecurity: 'what am I supposed to think / when the two of you… dance so well together?'

It opens with a snippet of impromptu studio chat that contains the phrase 'smooth, distorted sound... not completely interfering and overloading' that is arguably the most accurate description of the TWP guitar sound ever recorded.

53 Lovenest

(Seamonsters, 1991)

Doesn't quite hit the heights reached by the majority of Seamonsters, but is still impressive. There's a fraught, tense menace about the verse that periodically erupts into a monolithic slab of controlled noise, and there's also a diversion into an abandoned, aggressive middle eight (2:20). The feedback-laden outro is a little overstretched, however, and as powerful as the song is, it's not quite as coherent and focused as most of the rest of the album.

52 Little Silver

(Going, Going... 2016)

On this occasion the Going, Going... road trip rocks up in New Jersey. The narrator is freeing himself from a dead-end relationship - 'we’d reached a cul-de-sac / and I am never coming back' - and his new-found freedom is captured perfectly in the line 'my life’s no longer based on what you will allow'. 

One of Gedge's most memorable and touching melodies, he sings it over a gentle backing that occasionally features a surprisingly off-kilter rhythm that gives the song a dramatic tension. The bursts of distortion are beautifully measured and uplifting; in the final minute they resolve into a passage of heavy, slurred chords that's quite mesmerising. 

In this video of the song being performed at Cardiff Tramshed in 2016, the voice enthusing 'I love this bit' at 0:57 is, I must confess, mine.

51 Queen Anne

(Take Fountain, 2005)

Many of Gedge's songs focus on the more negative side of relationships - infidelity, misunderstanding, miscommunication, regret - but he's also more than capable of capturing the dizzying ecstasy of falling head over heels in love. 'Queen Anne' sees him bursting with tender, protective affection: 'I just want to cling to you and save you from the universe'; 'you’re all I need today, I don't want anything more'. The music is suitably grandiose and romantic, and the staggered, crashing chords around the two minute mark have an epic, heart-rending quality. The final minute consists of a sweeping, instrumental finale that might have come from a Western soundtrack where the hero rides off into the sunset.

50 Never Said

(B-side of My Favourite Dress, 1987)

The frantic buzz-saw guitars and relentless sugar-rush pace evoke the heady, confusing emotions of young love, in particular the inevitable awkwardness and misunderstandings: 'oh that was just embarrassing; at times I say the most stupid things'. Once again, Gedge captures perfectly those moments when it was virtually impossible to say what you actually felt: 'Just what went wrong? / You never said'. It plunges you headlong and deliriously into your memories of being 15, desperately in love and not knowing what the hell to do about it. The passage from 1:56 - 2:19 ('I’ve walked behind you... bring you back again') is one of the most touching things David has ever delivered.

49 The Thing I Like Best About Him Is His Girlfriend 

(El Rey, 2008)

The title might be pinched from The Specials, but this tale of hanging out with a mate at various 'boring things' simply because they provide an opportunity to see his 'lovely girlfriend' is classic Gedge. Introduced by an atmospheric, sludgy, slow-burn introduction, it soon breaks out into a brisk, taut tune, one that's one of the best examples of David and Terry's vocals working together. Always fabulous live, especially the aftermath of Terry's 'completely devastated' line. Great live version here; although this one (at which, I'm happy to say, I was present) perhaps captures the spirit of the song even more successfully despite the dodgy recording.

The promo video is not especially inspiring; you'd be better off listening to the full version:

48 This Boy Can Wait

(B-side of You Should Always Keep In Touch With Your Friends, 1986)

Other than its A-side, the best example of TWP's early, pre-George Best material. It's not especially subtle, either lyrically ('my heart beats so fast whenever you are near / my tongue gets tied up whenever you can hear') or musically, but the relentlessly furious, skittering guitar - punctuated by endearingly awkward staccato breaks - still packs a mighty punch thirty-odd years later. David's gruff, urgent vocal is filled with desperate yearning.

47 Sticky

(Single, 1992)

The October Hit Parade entry opens with a burst of coruscating, jagged guitar and is propelled from the outset by Simon Smith's taut, muscular drumming. The repetitive lyric ('get along, get along, get out of here') doesn't say a great deal, but is matched perfectly to the track's twitchy urgency. The promo video is another peculiar one.

46 Gone

(B-side of Brassneck, 1990)

The release of the 'Brassneck' single in early 1990 saw TWP enter the new decade with a distinctly different sound. Whilst Bizarro had displayed a harder edge than George Best, under the influence of producer Steve Albini the reworking of its opening track marked a shift into more raw and distorted territory. 

The 80s-90s shift in approach is especially notable when you compare the b-sides on the 12"s of 'Brassneck' and its predecessor 'Kennedy'. On the latter, the 'It's Not Unusual' cover was a typically tongue-in-cheek, light-hearted moment in the tradition of 'Getting Better' and 'Happy Birthday'; originals 'Unfaithful' and 'One Day...' were pleasant enough but rather lightweight jangly throwaways. In contrast, the cover on 'Brassneck' was a grimy, abrasive take on Pavement's 'Box Elder' and the two self-penned songs (of which 'Gone' is one) were similarly aggressive and acerbic.

The song's lyric is too concise to make out much of a narrative, although Gedge's disparagement of a (male) third party - delivered through the wonderfully withering opening line, 'you could tell me how he saved the world again / well I’m sorry but I just think he’s dead boring' - suggests a customary bit of cheeky persuasion into infidelity. More importantly, 'Gone' opens with hammering drums and a thickly coiled bass line that are soon joined by layers of gnarly guitar; it then takes a brief breather before launching into a manic finale that features some disturbing shrieks from David and concludes with glorious shards of feedback.

45 Let's Make Some Plans

(B-side of California, 1992)

The last of the covers on this list is a version of Scottish C86 band Close Lobsters' 1987 single. The original is a decent piece of goth-tinged indie-jangle, sitting somewhere between The Chameleons and The Psychedelic Furs. 

More than any of their other covers, TWP really make this their own, enhancing it with seething, urgent guitar and a menacingly muscular bass line. In particular, Gedge owns the song completely; they might not be his words, but he spits them out with barely contained fury (especially the 'you're talking rubbish' refrain). As good a cover as you'll ever hear.

44 Ringway To Seatac

(Take Fountain, 2005)

A song about the pain of separation, the narrator being so desperate to postpone his departure (Seatac is an airport near Seattle; Ringway is the original name of Manchester Airport) that he even looks for 'one last chance to have an argument'.

The lyric has its poignant moments - in particular, 'watching you walk back to your car / was the lowest point of my life so far' - but the strength of the track lies in the adept control of its shifting dynamics. The ebb and flow of the tempo, plus the considered, restrained deployment of crunchy guitar distortion, gives the song an impressively taut, focused feel.

43 Don't Talk, Just Kiss

(B-side of Brassneck, 1990)

The other original on the transformational 'Brassneck' 12", 'DTJK' is a wild ride, blending a George Best-style two-chord grind with urgent staccato bursts and ferocious punky thrash. The tempo changes don't have the controlled polish of 'Ringway', but have a primal urgency to them that, in my experience, provoked live audiences into unhinged delirium (example here).

42 Niagara

(B-side of Dalliance, 1991)

During the late 90s and early 00s, as the CD seemed increasingly likely to condemn all other formats to permanent oblivion, many of us found ourselves buying CD reissues of albums we had bought on vinyl 10-15 years earlier. Partly because of the extra space available - but primarily to persuade us to part with our hard-earned cash - these reissues often featured several bonus tracks, mainly b-sides from the era. This was a mixed blessing: whilst it saved having to track down obscure singles, these tracks sometimes interrupted the flow of the album, and often reminded you of why they were b-sides in the first place.

The 2001 reissue of Seamonsters, however, was great value, because TWP were at such a creative high point that many of the b-sides from the era are essential listening. 'Niagara' opens in an urgent, crisp fashion, the narrator simmering with lust - 'I can’t believe the things we’ve done since then / and God, I love the way you taste' - before dipping into a slow, sludgy interlude that's no less physical ('I’ve got this feeling, oh it’s like nothing I know'). The pattern is repeated, and then, at 2:48, the song briefly takes a breath before launching into an abandoned coda, coloured with splashes of squalling wah-wah. 

It's another one that's always a belter live: there's an example here.

41 What Have I Said Now?

(Bizarro, 1989)

I suspect that this is going to be one of the most controversial rankings, as I am aware that WHISN is a song that many fans would place in their top 10, perhaps even their top 5. The problem, for me, is in the first half of the song (although to be fair and accurate, it's actually the first 35%). The opening section is, frankly, a plod; an unimaginative three-chord 1-4-5 pattern where the vocal melody slavishly follows the guitar line in a predictable fashion. The lyric, which deals with misunderstanding and resentment within  a relationship ('I think sometimes you forget / and now look how we’re upset') is fine, but not especially inspiring.

It can't be denied, however, that in the final two-thirds the song evolves into magnificence, building steadily into an intense maelstrom of guitar noise that's utterly hypnotic. I've been fortunate to witness performances of this song where this section it was stretched to epic, mesmerising length. 

Thanks for reading. I hope you all have a great new year, and I'll see you in 2021 for the top 40!

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