Lyrics
"Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be... BONO!"
Seriously, if someone played you this song and told you it was the new U2 single... well, maybe you'd notice that Bono wasn't quite sounding himself, but otherwise there'd be no reason to suspect they were lying. In fact, played alongside the closest U2 song chronologically (that'd be "The Fly"), "Cover My Eyes" would undoubtedly be the most likely to be mistaken for them.
As far as U2 singles go, if it were one, this would rank somewhere in the middle of the table even back in those wonderful pre-"Vertigo" days, but it does beg the question of "WHY?" in large capital letters. For the lead single from Hogarth's first album as the band's fully integrated frontman, rather than just a guy singing his own words over Fish's music, this was an undeniably bizarre choice.
Video: Cover My Eyes (Pain And Heaven), Top of the Pops
I'm somewhat surprised Hogarth elected not to go all the way and don the shades for this performance. Also, Marillion on TOTP remains a difficult concept for me to get my head around. Marillion miming on TOTP even more so. The times they are a-changin'.
Showing posts with label singles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label singles. Show all posts
Wednesday, 29 August 2007
Sunday, 29 July 2007
Punch & Judy
Lyrics
The first single from Fugazi, and the only one with a hint of commercial appeal. It's somewhat of a departure from the territory that Fugazi usually treads; it's still somewhat nightmarish, but it's a middle age, middle class, mid-life crisis nightmare rather than that of a drug fuelled rockstar. But perhaps it's the same thing; the rockstar fearing the mediocre life of ennui that could befall him if he doesn't press on with his hedonistic, self-destructive ways. Wherever the idea stemmed from, though, it's a pretty huge success. Not commercially -- it stalled at #29, which was a bit of a dip following "Garden Party", which hit the top twenty -- but artistically it's a pretty big triumph, at least as far as I'm concerned.
The song was first released in 1984, which shows how much some things don't change, because twenty three years later, the picture of a stereotypical suburban lifestyle painted by the verses sounds extremely familiar; "Found our nest in the Daily Express/Met the vicar in a holy vest/Brought up the children Church of E/Now I vegetate with a colour TV". It's all fairly lighthearted and dripping with satire, which leaves you wholly unprepared for the disarmingly earnest chorus that plainitevly wonders where it all went wrong, "Whatever happened to pillow fights?/Whatever happened to jeans so tight, Friday nights?". It's a surprisingly touching reminder that inside every miserable, balding, overweight office drone is a boy with real passions and dreams that somehow fell by the wayside.
Of course, much like the domestic abuse in the puppet show the song is named for, there's an unexpected sinister tone to it all; with Fish's frantic vocals dropping in and out of falsetto all over the place, it's pretty easy to miss the fact that the final verse ends with the line "Just slip her these pills and I'll be free". That's pretty bleak.
Video: Punch & Judy (and Assassing, but that's not what the link is for)
Way to flub the second verse there, Fish.
The first single from Fugazi, and the only one with a hint of commercial appeal. It's somewhat of a departure from the territory that Fugazi usually treads; it's still somewhat nightmarish, but it's a middle age, middle class, mid-life crisis nightmare rather than that of a drug fuelled rockstar. But perhaps it's the same thing; the rockstar fearing the mediocre life of ennui that could befall him if he doesn't press on with his hedonistic, self-destructive ways. Wherever the idea stemmed from, though, it's a pretty huge success. Not commercially -- it stalled at #29, which was a bit of a dip following "Garden Party", which hit the top twenty -- but artistically it's a pretty big triumph, at least as far as I'm concerned.
The song was first released in 1984, which shows how much some things don't change, because twenty three years later, the picture of a stereotypical suburban lifestyle painted by the verses sounds extremely familiar; "Found our nest in the Daily Express/Met the vicar in a holy vest/Brought up the children Church of E/Now I vegetate with a colour TV". It's all fairly lighthearted and dripping with satire, which leaves you wholly unprepared for the disarmingly earnest chorus that plainitevly wonders where it all went wrong, "Whatever happened to pillow fights?/Whatever happened to jeans so tight, Friday nights?". It's a surprisingly touching reminder that inside every miserable, balding, overweight office drone is a boy with real passions and dreams that somehow fell by the wayside.
Of course, much like the domestic abuse in the puppet show the song is named for, there's an unexpected sinister tone to it all; with Fish's frantic vocals dropping in and out of falsetto all over the place, it's pretty easy to miss the fact that the final verse ends with the line "Just slip her these pills and I'll be free". That's pretty bleak.
Video: Punch & Judy (and Assassing, but that's not what the link is for)
Way to flub the second verse there, Fish.
Thursday, 19 July 2007
He Knows You Know
Lyrics
Again with the missing punctuation; The intonation of Fish's voice in the chorus suggests that there should be a comma in there, and doing away with it does change the meaning of the phrase rather. Oh lordy, I am so unnecessarily pedantic.
Anyway, comma or no, "He Knows You Know" is all about drug trip paranoia. (Side note here; typing that last word, I just got that paranoia you sometimes get whereby you are convinced that a word you have spelled correctly looks completely wrong, and accidentally tried to verify my spelling on "dictonary.com". That was a pretty fabulous double display of irony, I thought.)
As such, it would probably be a much fit much better on Fugazi than Script For A Jester's Tear, where it feels a mite out of place, although not so much as to be particularly offputting. Had they, say, replaced it with "Market Square Heroes" on the debut and held it over for Fugazi, I think both albums would be improved, and it would have the added effect of giving the latter an actual viable single. Because, in spite of the decidedly non-universal lyrical theme and the rather claustrophobic tone of the song, it has a very basic verse-chorus-verse structure, and the repetition of the title and Rothery's guitar work gives it some pretty good hooks, all of which served to make this the band's very first appearance in the top 40 singles chart way back in '83 (at #35, lower than every one of their fairly numerous following appearances, fact fans).
Video: He Knows You Know
The official music video, which is rather wonderful, if perhaps a little derivative of The Wall. And lacking in the best moment of the album version of the song, where Fish finishes by calling someone up purely to yell "DON'T GIVE ME YOUR PROBLEMS!" and then hang up.
Again with the missing punctuation; The intonation of Fish's voice in the chorus suggests that there should be a comma in there, and doing away with it does change the meaning of the phrase rather. Oh lordy, I am so unnecessarily pedantic.
Anyway, comma or no, "He Knows You Know" is all about drug trip paranoia. (Side note here; typing that last word, I just got that paranoia you sometimes get whereby you are convinced that a word you have spelled correctly looks completely wrong, and accidentally tried to verify my spelling on "dictonary.com". That was a pretty fabulous double display of irony, I thought.)
As such, it would probably be a much fit much better on Fugazi than Script For A Jester's Tear, where it feels a mite out of place, although not so much as to be particularly offputting. Had they, say, replaced it with "Market Square Heroes" on the debut and held it over for Fugazi, I think both albums would be improved, and it would have the added effect of giving the latter an actual viable single. Because, in spite of the decidedly non-universal lyrical theme and the rather claustrophobic tone of the song, it has a very basic verse-chorus-verse structure, and the repetition of the title and Rothery's guitar work gives it some pretty good hooks, all of which served to make this the band's very first appearance in the top 40 singles chart way back in '83 (at #35, lower than every one of their fairly numerous following appearances, fact fans).
Video: He Knows You Know
The official music video, which is rather wonderful, if perhaps a little derivative of The Wall. And lacking in the best moment of the album version of the song, where Fish finishes by calling someone up purely to yell "DON'T GIVE ME YOUR PROBLEMS!" and then hang up.
Monday, 9 July 2007
Market Square Heroes
Lyrics
The debut single and, aside from the obvious, probably the most radio friendly song of all of the Fish era (at least after the hideously inappropriate word 'antichrist' was replaced with 'battle priest'. I do love radio edits sometimes).
It's a pretty exemplary piece of rabble rousing; it's pretty well calculated, musically, to angry up the blood and get you really fired up to march on down to those pen-pushers at City Hall and... well, what happens next isn't really clear. It's dripping with anger and rebellion, but it's really not directed anywhere in particular; all we're told to do is "suffer my pretty warriors, and follow me".
It is, I think, a pretty clever indictment of the kind of people who'll blindly follow a popular cause just for the sake of rebellion, all trussed up as a regular protest song. Which makes it a lot more timeless than most of Fish's politically charged lyrics; when the whole point is that the actual issues are irrelevant, there's no outdated references to be found, just the kind of clever wordplay that Fish is quite rightly celebrated for among his fanbase. As far as kickoff points go, your career could certainly do a lot worse.
Video: Market Square Heroes
The "battle priest" version, which is different to the version I'm most familiar with (from B'Sides Themselves; I'm pretty sure it's the one from the original EP release) in more than just the lyrics; apart from the guitar solo and "HEY!" section, it doesn't have quite the same energy, somehow.
Neither of these versions contain the "I give piece signs..." verse listed on the website, which I believe was a later addition to live versions of the song. "Antisocial insecurity" is probably a better piece of concept-flipping than anything else in the song, but I don't know how well the verse fits sonically.
The debut single and, aside from the obvious, probably the most radio friendly song of all of the Fish era (at least after the hideously inappropriate word 'antichrist' was replaced with 'battle priest'. I do love radio edits sometimes).
It's a pretty exemplary piece of rabble rousing; it's pretty well calculated, musically, to angry up the blood and get you really fired up to march on down to those pen-pushers at City Hall and... well, what happens next isn't really clear. It's dripping with anger and rebellion, but it's really not directed anywhere in particular; all we're told to do is "suffer my pretty warriors, and follow me".
It is, I think, a pretty clever indictment of the kind of people who'll blindly follow a popular cause just for the sake of rebellion, all trussed up as a regular protest song. Which makes it a lot more timeless than most of Fish's politically charged lyrics; when the whole point is that the actual issues are irrelevant, there's no outdated references to be found, just the kind of clever wordplay that Fish is quite rightly celebrated for among his fanbase. As far as kickoff points go, your career could certainly do a lot worse.
Video: Market Square Heroes
The "battle priest" version, which is different to the version I'm most familiar with (from B'Sides Themselves; I'm pretty sure it's the one from the original EP release) in more than just the lyrics; apart from the guitar solo and "HEY!" section, it doesn't have quite the same energy, somehow.
Neither of these versions contain the "I give piece signs..." verse listed on the website, which I believe was a later addition to live versions of the song. "Antisocial insecurity" is probably a better piece of concept-flipping than anything else in the song, but I don't know how well the verse fits sonically.
Saturday, 7 July 2007
Assassing
Lyrics
From the band's sophomore album, Fugazi, which is not named for the band, who formed a few years after the album was released, or vice versa; both took the word from the Vietnam war, it stands for "Fucked Up, Got Ambushed, Zipped In". It's by far their least accessible album, with Fish taking his lyrical cryptography to the extreme and the band pairing it with some decidedly unsettling music.
"Assassing" (says Fish: "Why I put the ‘g' on the end remains a mystery to me!") is the opening track, and sets the mood quite nicely with some arrythmic sitar twangs before marching forth inexorably forward in the general direction of nightmares. It'll take a couple of tracks to reach the really good ones, so I hope you're well packed. Much like the rest of Fugazi, I'm pretty much clinging to whatever floatsom of comprehensibility I can find in the sea of fever dreams and LSD; the venomously spat "my friend"s at the end of every line are my main handholds here. If you can find them and grip on tight Fugazi is a hell of a ride, but chances are you'll get lost along the way.
Hilariously, this song was released as a single, which hilariously reached number 22, and was, most hilariously of all, accompanied by the following video. Nothing else in the world could possibly have dated as badly as this.
Video: Assassing
"Tonight's winner is Derek W. Dick, with a Krypton Factor of 45!"
From the band's sophomore album, Fugazi, which is not named for the band, who formed a few years after the album was released, or vice versa; both took the word from the Vietnam war, it stands for "Fucked Up, Got Ambushed, Zipped In". It's by far their least accessible album, with Fish taking his lyrical cryptography to the extreme and the band pairing it with some decidedly unsettling music.
"Assassing" (says Fish: "Why I put the ‘g' on the end remains a mystery to me!") is the opening track, and sets the mood quite nicely with some arrythmic sitar twangs before marching forth inexorably forward in the general direction of nightmares. It'll take a couple of tracks to reach the really good ones, so I hope you're well packed. Much like the rest of Fugazi, I'm pretty much clinging to whatever floatsom of comprehensibility I can find in the sea of fever dreams and LSD; the venomously spat "my friend"s at the end of every line are my main handholds here. If you can find them and grip on tight Fugazi is a hell of a ride, but chances are you'll get lost along the way.
Hilariously, this song was released as a single, which hilariously reached number 22, and was, most hilariously of all, accompanied by the following video. Nothing else in the world could possibly have dated as badly as this.
Video: Assassing
"Tonight's winner is Derek W. Dick, with a Krypton Factor of 45!"
Friday, 6 July 2007
80 Days
Lyrics
After four albums, Fish left the band. After another four albums, they were dropped from EMI and left to fend for themselves, which is a challenge they rose to more than anyone could have imagined. After another four albums, they had their first top ten hit since the end of the first era, and first top forty since the end of the second. This last one is obviously less significant than the previous two, but I've got to find patterns where I can. Human nature, right?
Anyway, This Strange Engine was the first album without the big record company bucks; a time of change, of revolution, of renaissance. It's reflected in the musical experimentation going on here, and in the strange engineering of the album artwork; "steampunk" is the word that comes to mind for me, and here we have a nice obvious reference to Jules Verne, and if you can find me a man more steampunk than he, then I will... be surprised. It's also an exceedingly maddening album, possibly the one I listen to the least, because it's arranged almost exactly right so that the tracks alternate between being awesome and being terrible.
"80 Days" falls in the awesome half, although it's decidedly at the lower end of the scale. It's a thoroughly pleasant one of their increasingly hopeless grabs for mainstream attention since being dropped from EMI, but at this point they were entering a brave new world and not actually caring too much about that, so this one flows out pretty naturally.
Man, I do feel like I ought to be in, like, a hot air balloon when I'm listening to it, though. That'd be swell. It's the trumpets, pretty much. Those things are heralding the return of some great explorer. Which is, I'm sure, exactly what they are meant to evoke, so I guess this song was a succes.
After four albums, Fish left the band. After another four albums, they were dropped from EMI and left to fend for themselves, which is a challenge they rose to more than anyone could have imagined. After another four albums, they had their first top ten hit since the end of the first era, and first top forty since the end of the second. This last one is obviously less significant than the previous two, but I've got to find patterns where I can. Human nature, right?
Anyway, This Strange Engine was the first album without the big record company bucks; a time of change, of revolution, of renaissance. It's reflected in the musical experimentation going on here, and in the strange engineering of the album artwork; "steampunk" is the word that comes to mind for me, and here we have a nice obvious reference to Jules Verne, and if you can find me a man more steampunk than he, then I will... be surprised. It's also an exceedingly maddening album, possibly the one I listen to the least, because it's arranged almost exactly right so that the tracks alternate between being awesome and being terrible.
"80 Days" falls in the awesome half, although it's decidedly at the lower end of the scale. It's a thoroughly pleasant one of their increasingly hopeless grabs for mainstream attention since being dropped from EMI, but at this point they were entering a brave new world and not actually caring too much about that, so this one flows out pretty naturally.
Man, I do feel like I ought to be in, like, a hot air balloon when I'm listening to it, though. That'd be swell. It's the trumpets, pretty much. Those things are heralding the return of some great explorer. Which is, I'm sure, exactly what they are meant to evoke, so I guess this song was a succes.
Tuesday, 3 July 2007
Freaks
Lyrics
Yeah, OK, so they did technically release a live version as a single in the interim period between Fish's departure and Hogarth's arrival, but it was a b-side first, and thus it still fulfills my promise. Look, this one has to go hand-in-hand with "Separated Out", because it's basically the Fish-era version of the same song, and a comparison of the two makes a nice microcosmic comparison between the two eras, which seems like something I ought to do, right?
The most immediately striking thing is that the keyboards are far, far more prominent here than they are in "Separated Out", despite that actually having one of the more noticable keyboard parts of any post-EMI Marillion album. Mark Kelly doesn't get to stand out a whole lot in more recent albums, which is not to say he isn't still a totally essential member of the band, of course.
Another obvious difference (which you can see for yourself with my handy lyrics links, aren't I great) is that there are a lot more words used here to bring across the same basic point. Not to say that Hogarth (and Helmer, from time to time) don't get very wordy sometimes, but Fish will never, ever use one word when he can use twenty five. Sometimes this interferes considerably with the clarity of the point he's trying to make, sometimes it makes for fabulously erudite poetry. This particular case falls somewhere between the two, I think.
Further to that, there's a contrast in the tone of the lyrics; while "Separated Out" is all questioning; "Am I enough of a freak to be worth paying to see?, "Freaks" just comes straight out and cries "Please stop staring at me". Either way, they both refuse to sit straight and shut up and become accountants, as would be the sensible option if you wanted to avoid the stares, but the difference is telling; Hogarth-era is definitely characterised by a much greater openness to positivity, even if it doesn't always fully embrace it.
Of the two, I think I enjoy "Separated Out" more, but I may be biased towards it having seen it live; I imagine "Freaks" would have much the same improvement. That last sentence pretty much still works as microcosm, by the way.
Yeah, OK, so they did technically release a live version as a single in the interim period between Fish's departure and Hogarth's arrival, but it was a b-side first, and thus it still fulfills my promise. Look, this one has to go hand-in-hand with "Separated Out", because it's basically the Fish-era version of the same song, and a comparison of the two makes a nice microcosmic comparison between the two eras, which seems like something I ought to do, right?
The most immediately striking thing is that the keyboards are far, far more prominent here than they are in "Separated Out", despite that actually having one of the more noticable keyboard parts of any post-EMI Marillion album. Mark Kelly doesn't get to stand out a whole lot in more recent albums, which is not to say he isn't still a totally essential member of the band, of course.
Another obvious difference (which you can see for yourself with my handy lyrics links, aren't I great) is that there are a lot more words used here to bring across the same basic point. Not to say that Hogarth (and Helmer, from time to time) don't get very wordy sometimes, but Fish will never, ever use one word when he can use twenty five. Sometimes this interferes considerably with the clarity of the point he's trying to make, sometimes it makes for fabulously erudite poetry. This particular case falls somewhere between the two, I think.
Further to that, there's a contrast in the tone of the lyrics; while "Separated Out" is all questioning; "Am I enough of a freak to be worth paying to see?, "Freaks" just comes straight out and cries "Please stop staring at me". Either way, they both refuse to sit straight and shut up and become accountants, as would be the sensible option if you wanted to avoid the stares, but the difference is telling; Hogarth-era is definitely characterised by a much greater openness to positivity, even if it doesn't always fully embrace it.
Of the two, I think I enjoy "Separated Out" more, but I may be biased towards it having seen it live; I imagine "Freaks" would have much the same improvement. That last sentence pretty much still works as microcosm, by the way.
Sunday, 1 July 2007
Beautiful
Lyrics
I'm going to be staggering the really important (whether that's in the personal sense or the "Kayleigh" sense will depend) songs throughout the run, because that's one of the as-yet unwritten rules of oeuvreblogging, and I imagine it will make the whole project easier to handle. Those two reasons are fairly intrinsicly linked, I guess.
Anyway, "Beautiful" is important because it's pretty much my point of no return, I think. I discovered the existence of the band with Marbles, and I bought that and liked it, but it wasn't until I happened upon an exceedingly cheap copy of live acoustic album Unplugged At The Walls that I totally fell in love, and it was this song that did it. There was no slowly easing me into it either, it's just crowd noise, "WOOOOOOO!" and then straight into what may be the closest thing to the quintessential three and a half minute pop song this band has ever recorded. And, given that they're... y'know, Marillion, they've made a surprising number of attempts at that. Of course, given that they're... y'know, Marillion, you'd be lucky to find one that's actually under five minutes, but... the three-and-a-half-minute spirit's still there, OK?
Note again that I said "live acoustic album". If you're anything like me, that word would not inspire a great deal of confidence in you. I think I probably wouldn't have even bought Unplugged At The Walls if I'd actually realised it was a live acoustic album, which I would have done if I'd paid any attention whatsoever to any other part of the packaging than the price sticker, and then maybe I'd be writing an entry about "Getting Away With It (All Messed Up)" right now.
But, whatever, the acoustic version of this song, and pretty much this song only, at least as far as Unplugged At The Walls is concerned, works perfectly, because "Beautiful" is pretty bare bones on record already, so the acoustic version's only particularly noticable difference is the lack of a fade-out ending, which is always something I could do without anyway.
What's more important, of course, is that the actual song, in any form, is just wonderful; it's naive and idealistic to a pretty absurd degree, and you'd think that being so utterly convinced in the absolute truth of its simplistic message would be annoyingly preachy, but somehow it's unassuming enough to all come out incredibly charming. I think it pretty much comes down to this; it's not "Stand up and be beautiful", it's "Why don't you stand up and be beautiful?" Like, "if you can come up with a good reason not to stand up and be beautiful, that's totally cool with us, dude, you just keep doing your thing."
Plus, that keyboard riff? RAAAWWR.
Video: Beautiful
The official music video. It's one of the better ones of the Hogarth era, outside of Brave. These are really not their forte.
Video: Beautiful (performed by Jessica Culligan)
Some poor girl, evidently cursed with a Marillion fan for a dad, singing the song at a school concert.
I'm going to be staggering the really important (whether that's in the personal sense or the "Kayleigh" sense will depend) songs throughout the run, because that's one of the as-yet unwritten rules of oeuvreblogging, and I imagine it will make the whole project easier to handle. Those two reasons are fairly intrinsicly linked, I guess.
Anyway, "Beautiful" is important because it's pretty much my point of no return, I think. I discovered the existence of the band with Marbles, and I bought that and liked it, but it wasn't until I happened upon an exceedingly cheap copy of live acoustic album Unplugged At The Walls that I totally fell in love, and it was this song that did it. There was no slowly easing me into it either, it's just crowd noise, "WOOOOOOO!" and then straight into what may be the closest thing to the quintessential three and a half minute pop song this band has ever recorded. And, given that they're... y'know, Marillion, they've made a surprising number of attempts at that. Of course, given that they're... y'know, Marillion, you'd be lucky to find one that's actually under five minutes, but... the three-and-a-half-minute spirit's still there, OK?
Note again that I said "live acoustic album". If you're anything like me, that word would not inspire a great deal of confidence in you. I think I probably wouldn't have even bought Unplugged At The Walls if I'd actually realised it was a live acoustic album, which I would have done if I'd paid any attention whatsoever to any other part of the packaging than the price sticker, and then maybe I'd be writing an entry about "Getting Away With It (All Messed Up)" right now.
But, whatever, the acoustic version of this song, and pretty much this song only, at least as far as Unplugged At The Walls is concerned, works perfectly, because "Beautiful" is pretty bare bones on record already, so the acoustic version's only particularly noticable difference is the lack of a fade-out ending, which is always something I could do without anyway.
What's more important, of course, is that the actual song, in any form, is just wonderful; it's naive and idealistic to a pretty absurd degree, and you'd think that being so utterly convinced in the absolute truth of its simplistic message would be annoyingly preachy, but somehow it's unassuming enough to all come out incredibly charming. I think it pretty much comes down to this; it's not "Stand up and be beautiful", it's "Why don't you stand up and be beautiful?" Like, "if you can come up with a good reason not to stand up and be beautiful, that's totally cool with us, dude, you just keep doing your thing."
Plus, that keyboard riff? RAAAWWR.
Video: Beautiful
The official music video. It's one of the better ones of the Hogarth era, outside of Brave. These are really not their forte.
Video: Beautiful (performed by Jessica Culligan)
Some poor girl, evidently cursed with a Marillion fan for a dad, singing the song at a school concert.
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