"Suddenly It's Tuesday" - Part 8 (101-120)

 

It was suggested to me (thanks again to Gav from Scopitones) that it might be helpful to create one page that pulled together all the post links and contained a full song ranking list, so I have done so (link at the bottom of this post). It also contains various other links, including a downloadable spreadsheet of all 223 songs so you can have a go at creating your own full list / top 100 / top 50, etc. should you be so inclined. 

Thanks as usual to all who liked / shared / commented on the last post. Once again, there were many 'can't argue with most of that' replies; the main bone of contention was 'No', which several would have liked to see higher.

Just a reminder that the "Suddenly it's Tuesday" YouTube playlist is here. From next week, I will also be starting a Spotify playlist of the top 100 songs.

120 Crushed

(Bizarro, 1989)

The first side of Bizarro feels a little uncertain and directionless in places. 'Crushed' is a case in point, thrashing away energetically but without much sense of purpose. There are several great guitar sounds/parts present, but they don't quite fit together into a satisfying whole. 

119 Fifty-Six

(Going, Going..., 2016)

Fifty-Six is in Stone County, Arkansas: it has a population of under 200 and is only two square miles in area. The lyric is a pretty standard post-break-up reflection, featuring some of those dodgy forced rhymes such as 'I should delete it but / that sounds kind of desperate'. Nicely crunchy staccato guitar though, and Katherine Wallinger's harmonies on the chorus give it a sweeping, romantic feel. The second half is taken up with a busy instrumental section that builds into quite an impressive gallop.

118 You're Dead

(Valentina, 2012)

Valentina's opener finds Gedge hell-bent on escaping a relationship with 'a little cheat'. Over a muscular, rolling drumbeat, he strikes a determined tone: 'am I making it clear? / I want you out of here'. The measured verse is effective, as are the post-chorus layers of distorted guitar. The chorus itself, however, is a little naff, especially the 'Bang! Bang!' and 'Pow! Pow!' exclamations. In addition, we get one of those strange emphases caused by shoehorning a word into where it doesn't really fit, 'shebang' becoming 'she-bang'.

The song is rescued by a rather lovely melancholy, downtempo coda in which Gedge's previous resolve appears to weaken: despite the fact that it's insane and inexplicable, he still wants her. The contradictory pathos is rounded off with 'You appal me. Okay, call me.'

117 It's What You Want That Matters

(George Best, 1987)

Originally recorded as 'What Becomes Of The Broken Hearted?', 'Matters' is a dense whirl of edgy guitar underpinned by a relentlessly looping bass line. It's full of typically regretful and accusatory lines - 'don’t sing me that song / I’ve been here for too long'; 'when you pull the strings / I don’t think you feel a thing' - although it's hard to pin down any kind of narrative. Overall, a solid enough mix of angst and melancholy.

116 Spider-Man on Hollywood

(El Rey, 2008)

Although it has its intense moments, El Rey is one of TWP's more light-hearted albums. 'Spider-Man' is distinctly tongue in cheek ('I thought I saw a supermodel / but she had hair where I don’t think she should') but its jangly melodicism and sheer joie de vivre prevents it from becoming overly frivolous. As was the fashion at the time, it concludes with an odd little instrumental passage - 25 seconds of shy, tentative drumming.

115 It's A Gas

(Watusi, 1994)

It's best to ignore the awkwardly forced lyric ('kissing and caressing / and watching you undressing / shouldn’t be depressing') and focus instead on the song's catchy melody and lithe, slinky garage rock groove.

114 Softly Softly

(John Peel Sessions 1992-1995, 1998)

First broadcast on Peel's show in May 1992, 'Softly' is to a large extent an early run-out for the 1994 single 'Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah', although it's just about different enough to warrant a separate entry. Regarded by some as superior to the 'final' version, there's certainly much to admire about its looser, more abandoned structure. However, it still feels like an enthusiastic prototype rather than the finished article.

113 Living and Learning

(Tommy, 1988)

Originally recorded for Andy Kershaw's Radio 1 show, and first appeared on a 1985 compilation called Raging Sun (thanks to John Quarmby from the 'Barmy Army' Facebook group for pointing the latter out to me). A scabrous guitar cacophony soundtracks a tense, furtive tale of infidelity: 'if you’re standing in the light / make sure I’m out of sight / I can’t afford to be seen from your window'. It's all a bit teen-angsty, but there's sufficient driving energy to carry it off.

112 Felicity

(Tommy, 1988)

Recorded for TWP's first Peel session, broadcast in February 1986, and introduced by Gedge as 'a William Shatner number' (the song was written by James Kirk), 'Felicity' is a breakneck sprint through Orange Juice's 1982 single. Oddly serious (almost po-faced) in comparison to the original's louche ramble, it nonetheless has an impressive intensity.

111 Birdsnest

(Going, Going..., 2016)

Birdsnest is in Northampton County, Virginia. Gedge described the song in an interview for the website Clash:

'...a song that’s full of weird ideas that often spin off on odd tangents. The main body is quite rocky, with a massive bass sound, but it kind of strangely changes key into a poppy chorus! And then the outro section harks back to the ‘jangly' Wedding Present sound of the 80s before the final bit, which is much more subdued and gives me the chance to get my old guitar slide out!'

It's certainly a bit of a patchwork, flinging together several different TWP approaches. Whilst it doesn't exactly hang together in any kind of coherent form, it's still refreshingly inventive.

110 524 Fidelio

(Valentina, 2012)

A song of pleasant contrasts: the lithe, busy verse and the loose, laid-back chorus; Pepe's lilting backing vocals and Gedge's earnest croon. Not a lyrical highlight ('with scarcely any make-up / you're really quite unique / from the second that you wake up') but it all meshes together nicely into a tidy little tune.

109 The Girl From The DDR

(Valentina, 2012)

More likeable contrasts: the three guitar parts (the delicate chords, the booming fuzz and the nifty hook); Pepe (here singing in German) and David's vocals once again intertwining nicely. (Her parts translate as 'Something is wrong / So what's going on / Really? Should I believe it?' and 'My number, call me / I'm waiting for you / Someday, we'll see each other again'.) The chorus also has one of Gedge's trademark heart-rending melodies.

The lyric is a little dubious in places, although on this occasion it's more to do with chronological issues than dodgy rhymes. Unless the references to the DDR and 'the wall' are some form of metaphor, the notion of an East German (the Berlin Wall fell in 1989 and Germany was reunified in 1990) entering a number into the narrator's phone is rather far-fetched. The greatest shortcoming, however, is the busy little instrumental coda that makes up the final quarter of the song and feels like a bit of a casually throwaway appendage.

EDIT: It has been pointed out to me (by Gavin Morgan, long-standing Scopitones member) that Gedge, by his own account, did have a mobile phone in the late 80s. David comments on this in his introduction to 'DDR' on Cinerama's Live 2015 album (it's not on YouTube, but Spotify users can hear it here).

108 Don't Take Me Home Until I'm Drunk

(El Rey, 2008)

The title, as referred to in the lyric, is taken from a piece of dialogue in the 1961 romantic comedy Breakfast At Tiffany's, spoken by Audrey Hepburn in her role as Holly Golightly. This fact, as well as the generally light-hearted and coy tone gives the track a bit of a Cinerama throwback feel, despite some noisy guitar from Chris McConville. 

The lyric has a certain kitsch charm, although it's easy enough to pick holes in it: Mars is a planet, not a star; 'but when we kissed, I won’t pretend, I still shook with apprehension, I confess' is grammatically dubious; 'a text on my phone' is not a phrase that anyone has ever used. Despite its flaws, however, the song is still strangely loveable. 

107 Don't Be So Hard

(George Best, 1987)

This GB track finds us back on more familiar territory, a world of kitchen-sink domestic/romantic intrigue and drama: 'she tells him little lies like she’s not in the mood tonight'; 'have you seen her without make-up?'; 'and when they’re out with all his friends he just forgets that she’s even there'.

It has a similar style and structure to 'All About Eve', albeit less aggressive and more understated. Not earth-shatteringly original, but not without a certain naïve charm either. (The video below is erroneously titled 'Don't Be So Afraid'.)

106 All This And More

(George Best, 1987)

Immediately identifiable as a George Best track the second the furiously hyperactive riff kicks in, there's an effective contrast between the frenetic verse and relatively reflective and regretful chorus. It's one of Gedge's rare forays into non-romantic, more abstract lyrical territory. There's some sort of stab at social commentary going on - 'I’ve already borrowed too much money... can I put this down and owe the rest?' but it's all a little too vague to pin down with any certainty. When you have that glorious wall of guitars and David's assertive yet somehow melancholy snarl, however, you can live with that.

105 All About Eve 

(B-side of Anyone Can Make A Mistake, 1987)

Another deviation from the familiar themes of love, lust, infidelity and regret. 'All About Eve' (which was also a bonus track on the George Best CD/cassette) was inspired by the year that Gedge spent living in South Africa when he was eleven, and deals with apartheid and inherent racist attitudes: 'a good kaffir I’ve never met'. It has a political vehemence ('did you try to imagine the hate that a young boy could feel?') that he never really revisited.

Musically, it's textbook late-80s TWP, a combination of a thin, frenetically scratchy guitar and a wall of hazy distortion. Perhaps a little one-paced, but admirably forceful and intense nonetheless.

104 Nothing Comes Easy 

(B-side of Nobody's Twisting Your Arm, 1988)

Another spot of kitchen-sink drama - 'I don’t understand you anymore / before you slam that door' - with a typical undertone of infidelity: 'but if you can’t be good be careful / if you don’t brush your coat that hair will give the game away'. (You have to give Gedge credit for the sheer audacity of rhyming 'careful' with 'hair will'.)

Underpinned by Keith Gregory's throbbing Steve Hanley-esque bass line, the song occasionally feels like it might become a little one-paced and listless, but is rescued by a yearning, melancholy chorus and bursts of bright, choppy guitar.

103 Not From Where I'm Standing 

(B-side of Why Are You Being So Reasonable Now?, 1988)

Not exactly Gedge's most expansive lyric, relying heavily on the phrase 'and if I could live one day again, that day would be the one' - although it does contain the intriguing line, 'when he tells her it’s all lies, she’s making patterns with her spoon'. It's really all about the guitars on this one though, a relentless mixture of smooth, distorted fuzz and scratchy ebullience.

102 What Did Your Last Servant Die Of?

(George Best, 1987)

The second track on George Best had a very slow fade-in that seemed rather an anti-climax following the exciting finale to 'Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft'. Once it gets going, it proves to be a rather laid-back and melancholy affair, albeit one that's underpinned by some typically busy guitar work. The lyric touches on some familiar Gedge themes - jealousy and suspicion ('is that a letter you’re hiding from me... let me open it and see'); bitter regret ('after all that I have done for you') - as well as delving into Mars/Venus gender differences ('do you have to spend so much time on your hair?... of course you’ve got things to wear') and work ethic ('some of us have to work you know / have you been sitting there all day?')

101 Box Elder

(B-side of Brassneck, 1990)

A cover of a song by Pavement, who pretty much based their entire early career on early-80s Fall. TWP improve on the rather thin original, adding some depth and gusto.

Thanks for reading. See you next week for our first taste of the top 100.

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