Viewing entries tagged
LCD Soundsystem

Map Ref 01: False Start

Hey Friends:

As mentioned in my last blog post, I'm going to be spending some time in the next few weeks working through a song-by-song breakdown of Geography, referencing favorite songs that influenced the making of the record. Personally, I love when artists talk process—discussing the origins of a lyric, or what he or she may have been listening to at the time of a track's conception—so I thought it might be fun to write about about how my record came to be. And since Geography's aesthetic theme is rooted in maps, I'm naming this post series accordingly with a not-so-subtle nod to my favorite Wire song. Here we go!

"False Start," the opening track to Geography, is one of the oldest songs from the record, demoed back in 2011 when I was working on our Resolution EP; in fact, I believe that the first two songs I wrote were the opening and closing tracks ("State of the Union" dates back to 2008), and I knew early on that "False Start" and "State" would start and end the record's sequence.

That heartbeat bass pulse, which underpins the entire track, is a straight-up pull from Spoon's "Small Stakes." I've long thought that this is one of the best album openers of all time—gripping and emotive despite the spareness of its design. Spoon's bluesy moments don't really resonate with me as a songwriter, however their commitment to making strange production choices have provided a lot of inspiration to me over the last ten years.

Earlier demos maintained that "Small Stakes" minimalism throughout, featuring only vocals, bass pulse, and some synthesizer run through a timed delay, however once I knew what the theme of the record was going to be about, I realized that some additional melody might be needed. That's where the piano came in. As a side note: all but two songs from Geography contain piano—an instrument which was featured only sparingly in earlier City States songs—and my use of it throughout the LP really did help bring out the emotion I wanted to convey.

But back to "False Start:" that persistent 8th note piano phrasing, running in parallel with the bass pulse, is borrowed from LCD Soundsystem's "All My Friends," which, in my opinion, may be the finest song written in the last 15 years. This isn't the first time I've tried to mimic James Murphy's crowning achievement: on Resolution I attempted, unsuccessfully, to make a similar move with the EP's closer, "Reverse Slow Motion." Could one suggest that the former song naturally flows into the latter? Perhaps. I do think that "False Start" is more successful.

About two weeks before going in for mixing at Soma, I knew that the song still needed something more—movement? progression?—and that's when I added the extra drum machines, synth arpeggios, and live drums that slowly fade in throughout the song's second half. During the last 6 months of writing and recording I listened to Stereolab and Tortoise (two bands I've written about before) maybe more than any other groups, and when "Olv 26" popped up in an iTunes playlist one day, I heard a stylistic parallel that made a lot of sense to me. Strangely, those electro-snare inclusions remind me a bit of Hot Chip, but once the live drums and arpeggios fade in, I hear an awful lot of Emperor Tomato Ketchup. Those final edits, for me, make the song, and I'm glad I decided to make some last-minute additions.

Next time, I'll talk Dismemberment Plan, Walkmen, and the death of the universe with "Endless Sunlight." Thanks for reading!

Joel

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Top 50 Songs :: 2008-2013 (So Far)

Inspired by similar lists made by Scott Tennant and Mark Richardson, I thought I’d create my own best of from the last 5.5 years.

I’m actually a bit surprised at myself over how many of these tracks are non-singles; (or maybe I should be surprised that more of these songs weren’t released as stand-alones). A few of these are also concretely linked to specific places and times:

  • The School of Language and Week That Was singles, as well as Sea & Cake’s “Weekend,” were three that I had on repeat right around the time that we started City States—you could call them inspirational.
  • I listened to “Out Go The Lights” in my car about two dozen times during week after my dad died (which I was drawn to because of its overall notions of loss, and because it was a band we both enjoyed together, not because of any darkness=death metaphors that can be extracted from the lyrics).
  • "Holcene" was a song I remember specifically having to turn off at work—I heard it for the first time while contracting at a fantastic studio downtown called GravityTank, and the song’s lonely guitar intro was so affecting that I found myself getting misty-eyed while sitting at my desk.

And perhaps it’s just a current fascination, but “Art of Almost” is the easy winner for me. Full-disclosure: it’s a strong reference point for the opening track on the album I’m making. But in addition to the inspiration I’m taking from it as a musician, I’m also generally fascinated with way that the song seems to occur in movements, the way that instruments seem to bubble up, take command, then eventually drop out over time. Perhaps most importantly, I enjoy the shared language that emerges between the traditional and electronic instruments, as if the divide between the “real” and “synthetic” is arbitrary or imagined (this is a continuing preoccupation for me as both a musician and as a listener). For me, “Almost” feels very rooted in the here and now, yet also otherworldly and strange, like looking at the planet from 100,000 feet.



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Selections are in rough order of ranking (a one-song-per-band rule is mostly followed, save for the arguable Field Music / Week That Was / School of Language overlap):

Wilco - Art of Almost
Portishead - Machine Gun
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Dig, Lazarus, Dig!
Eno / Byrne - Strange Overtones
Low - Murderer
Bon Iver - Holcene
Bobby Womack - Please Forgive My Heart
LCD Soundsystem - All I Want
The Week That Was - The Airport Line
Spoon - Out Go The Lights

Meursault - Crank Resolutions
Radiohead - Separator
School of Language - Rockist Part 1
Walkmen - Heaven
Deerhunter - The Missing
St. Vincent - Marrow
Field Music - Precious Plans
The National - Sorrow
Hot Chip - Slush
Antlers - I Don’t Want Love

Serengeti - PMDD
Matthew Dear - Deserter
Wild Beasts - Invisible
Grizzly Bear - Sun In Your Eyes
Dirty Projectors - Impregnable Question
Destroyer - Blue Eyes
Swans - A Piece of the Sky
Santigold - L.E.S. Artistes
Bear In Heaven - Lovesick Teenagers
Björk - Crystalline

No Age - Things I Did When I Was Dead
Kanye West - On Sight
Merzbow & Richard Pinhas - Tokyo Electric Guerilla
Akron / Family - Sometimes I
Tame Impala - Be Above It
PVT - Shiver
Mannequin Men - Flyin’ Blind
Radian - Git Cut Noise
Blur - Under the Westway
Here We Go Magic - How Do I Know

Mountains - Choral
Tune Yards - Bizness
Sea & Cake - Weekend
Magnetic Fields - Too Drunk To Dream
Vampire Weekend - A-Punk
13 & God - Old Age
Coldplay - Chinese Sleep Chant
Sigur Ros - Gobbledigook
Animal Collective - My Girls
James Blake - Limit To Your Love

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The Best James Murphy Interview

Last week I spent almost an entire day listening to YouTube interviews with James Murphy while I worked. Most of the discussions with him that I’ve found so far have been great, but they’ve also been somewhat similar in their talking points—the bungled Seinfeld writing opportunity, the correspondence with Steve Albini, the origin story and left-field success of “Losing My Edge.” But there’s a particular subject sitting at the heart of this interview which really drew me in:

Failure.

James Murphy’s willingness to explore his own failure is perhaps the quality I find most fascinating about him. It’s a running theme in the songs he writes as LCD Soundsystem (which is sometimes overshadowed by the decidedly non-mopey music he pairs with his lyrics) but I also find it wonderful that he talks about his struggles so honestly during interviews. To wit: this 9-minute segment takes up nearly half of its runtime discussing the utter mess of Murphy’s early adult life prior to the co-founding of DFA.

I’m not trying to suggest that Murphy’s candidness should be read as a simple “keep trying and eventually you will succeed” ethos. Instead, I think that the the honest approach that he has in exploring his anxieties, and his ability to do so in such a public way, is refreshing.

Also, the face he makes at 5:27, mimicking his friends’ initial reactions to “Losing My Edge” is laugh-out-loud hilarious.

Joel

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