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Jon Quijano

The website of St. Croix Valley photographer and storyteller Jon Quijano

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40. "Bulls on Parade" by Rage Against the Machine

Hey, you want leftist politics? You go on over to the lyrics websites and read the lyrics to this song, maybe you'll be fine, maybe you won't make it. Can't accuse these guys of being detached or ironic. Sincerity rating: 10.

I'll say this about the lyrics, politics aside. This is the 40th song I've written about, and this is the first song where the lyrics attempt the lofty poetic task of creating new word combinations rather than depending on established phrasing and diction. And it's not a weak attempt! As long as you're not flustered by the ideology of the subjects, you hear concepts that are creatively worded. I'll let you get into close reading if you want to, they don't need me to spell anything out for you.

At this point, I want to ask you to throw all other "rap-rock" bands of the middle/late '90s out of your brain. Throw that reductive term out too. We are listening to sound, not judgements and rationalizations about sound. If the song is too aggressive for you, that's cool. Pardon the rest of us while I hold forth on the qualities of heaviness.

I used to write heavy music. Lots. Screaming music. Shatter drumsticks music. Heavy music is a science, and it is the science of making people move. It's a science in the way that Alfred Hitchcock considered his movies to be devices for eliciting specific audience responses. Often when you are being entertained, you are really being dissected.

I moved away from writing heavy music because there are actually really limited ways to achieve heaviness. You kind of have to stay within the same patterns or the effect is lost. It's a real tightrope, and I had far too many different musical curiosities to keep on mining closely related patterns for the same repeated outcome. And Rage Against the Machine got to so many ideas first anyway.

The song opens with a classic heavy idea: Two notes, wide interval. Often the interval is something a little more dissonant. This song goes with the same note, one octave apart. Creates the added unison bonus. The smashing drums bely the care with which the quick-but-not-fast tempo is minutely calibrated.

Idea two: Hit the tonic note hard. Bonus: Start with a solo guitar introducing the riff, then all other instruments jump in. The drums are able to solo in the spaces between the guitar punches.

Idea three: Blues scale. Excellent syncopation, just really awesome funk teased into fury. Bonus: Patient, lurking sustain on the notes. The notes hang there forever. So many heavy songwriters want to keep those fingers moving, maybe afraid the audience will lose interest. Sometimes, let them hang. The drummer sustains everything with a perfectly resonating ride cymbal, punctuating with snare and kick drum.

Idea four: Two notes, small interval (both the half step up and the full step down varieties). Simplicity is the basis here. Drums are open hi-hat and kick/snare alternating on the beat, the first drum beat you learn. Zach de la Rocha uses the simplicity of this section to simplify his lyrical ideas too, reverting to his favorite propagandistic tactic of repeating a single, short slogan.

Throw in a highly skilled guitar solo of atonal scratches.

Final idea: Mix ideas. Here it's the tonic smashing of idea two with the drumming of idea one. Revert fully to idea one, but scream a new repeated phrase with it to the end.

It's so simple. It is so damned hard to come up with the guitar, bass, and drum parts that take these principles and make them fresh every time. Rage Against the Machine produced so many good heavy songs on three albums, with only a few on each album I'd skip over. But even they hung it up after three.

tags: Rage Against the Machine, music, Music writing, 365 day music challenge
categories: Music writing
Wednesday 03.29.17
Posted by Jon Quijano
 

39. "Brown Sugar" by the Rolling Stones

Let's start out with an understanding. The Rolling Stones are dumb guys. They were (and remain) meathead posers who tried and failed to rival the Beatles, then merely existed several decades longer than the Beatles because they are scheming opportunists freely feeding off corporate milk until they breathe their last gurgled breaths, and thus of course they continue to be motivated to keep the band lurching along lest any disruption break their latch.

And so of course they wrote a song with lyrics as dumb as this song's. It was also the early '70s, they were on lots of drugs, and they were at the absolute peak of their fame, riding an unmitigated God complex. That arrogance would soon come to a dark climax with their tragic Altamont performance, which was ironically where they debuted "Brown Sugar." It's funny how, when people pretend to have all this macho, anti-establishment bluster, to the point where they invite Hell's Angels to be their bodyguards, the true animals inevitably take over and bring a hell that all the lightweight big talkers can only gape at. We continue today to talk big from our lightweight pulpits, normalizing the impulse to invite the heavyweight demons into our midst whilst they size up our jugulars.

I honestly think the lyrics of "Brown Sugar" have good intentions to be self-critical of racial/sexual power and privilege, if incredibly clumsily so.

The verses seem to progress through generations, from the original slavers to the institutional slave drivers to the privileged white men of Jagger's time, including himself.

It was a very explosive time of racial tension, with the murders of Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X in the very recent past, and with Richard "Law and Order (dog whistle)" Nixon running the U.S. The English rockers tended to wade into this subject at their peril, out of their depth as they were on many, many levels. Paul McCartney wrote "Black Bird," which is a cute song but a little innocent in a mildly offensive way. Mick Jagger decided to apply the meathead philosophy of the Rolling Stones and write this gasper.

I'm not here to forgive him or denounce him.

The song is such a great composition. I'm clearly not a Rolling Stones fan, but I still have to acknowledge they bumbled into one. If you give the lyrics the benefit of the doubt, the most offensive thing is the rawness of the subject, but I don't shy away from stuff like that. 

With "Bohemian Rhapsody," I steered away from close reading the lyrics because they are so ambiguous as to leave me speculating, and Freddie Mercury's life was just so not my experience I didn't feel enough authority. I'm not gonna sit around trying to straightsplain when there is such pure musical abundance to lavish with praise. The lyrics of "Brown Sugar" call so much more attention to themselves that my disclaimer has taken up 95% of my writing here.

And yet still I list this song. 

Because I don't shy away.

And it is such a great composition.

tags: The Rolling Stones, music, Music writing, 365 day music challenge
categories: Music writing
Wednesday 03.29.17
Posted by Jon Quijano
 

38. "Bron-Y-Aur Stomp" by Led Zeppelin

Led Zeppelin launched their career with two nearly perfect hard rock albums, full of classics and essential deep cuts. For their third album, they decided to slow down momentarily to widen the range of their sound and took a writing retreat to the bucolic Welsh cottage of Braun-Y-Aur.

In this serene setting, they developed the acoustic instrumentation that began to define their most mature sound. There are plenty of famous examples of work that emerged from that cottage, but one of the best, most joyful songs they ever wrote is not too widely known. 

"Bron-Y-Aur Stomp" is a song about a dog in the countryside. Enjoy.

tags: Led Zeppelin, music, Music writing, 365 day music challenge
categories: Music writing
Wednesday 03.29.17
Posted by Jon Quijano
 

37. "Break on Through (To the Other Side)” by The Doors

What were the Doors?

They were a “rock” group with a drummer who spent much of his time in bossa nova beats like the one in “Break on Through.” They were led by a guy who probably wasn’t much different than Charles Manson, who sought musical fame in California at the same time as the Doors were operating there. Except that while Manson and Morrison were both disturbed, fanatical, and convinced of their messianic charisma, one was an unsightly, untalented monster; one was an angelically beautiful, miraculously talented bad boy.

The Doors played music that wasn’t anything. It was just itself. I don’t want you to tell me anything else sounds “like” the Doors. That is an impossibility. It is either the Doors, or it is something that should be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. How can one organ, one guitar, one drum set, and one voice come together in such an unforeseen, uncontrived, unprecedented way? How could they not only be musical curiosities but also convey ideas that aspire to Byronic romanticism? How can a group that played on Ed Sullivan have a band name that derives from “The Marriage of Heaven and Hell” by William Blake?

What was going on back then?

Listen to this song!!! What is happening here? Can we ever un-hear this universally known singing melody, the one-of-a-kind croon of Jim Morrison, RIP? Can we ever go back to our daily, clinically responsible selves knowing that organ solo is out there, weird and perfect and proud of itself despite all the dreary pressures and violences that perpetually emanate from our species? Can we sit still knowing we destroyed this band’s career because during one of their cathartic, euphoric, sprawling, uncharted live shows, where they would weave in and out of extended versions of numbers like “Break on Through," seeking only to goad and challenge the audience with the power of sound, somebody complained?

Sometimes question marks are not punctuation; they are symbols.

tags: The Doors, Music writing, music, 365 day music challenge
categories: Music writing
Wednesday 03.29.17
Posted by Jon Quijano
 

36. “Brazil,” Cornelius version

The original version of this song, “Aquarela do Brasil,” has a storied history that I invite you go read about. It is one of the most famous Brazilian songs, has been covered by Frank Sinatra among many others, and is usually a samba tune.

On his generationally ingenious 2006 album Point, Japanese artist Cornelius turns this song into a sensuously syncopated acoustic ballad with background nature sound effects, sung by two automated voices, one “male” one “female," sharing duet harmony.

The lyrics are not the original but an entirely new set from the Sinatra version. I am not sure if Sinatra was the source of these, but the effect is to remove the nationalist leanings of the original tune and replace it with a simple memory of place and love. When robots duet about this shared past romance, it is a sweetness that Pixar later seemed to mine for the relationship in Wall-E.

How fantastic is this recording. The whole album Point is replete with these evocative nature sounds, but “Brazil” is the culmination, reposing amongst crickets, distant bird chirps, coyote yips, and the best of a breezy, warm night.

The guitar is hypnotic and played like slap funk. The digital and analog percussion click and pop as one organism, in the same way forest of sound does. They form a beat of ultimate cool. It is a rich, long instrumental opening designed by a consumate instrumental composer who played with vocals in the most minimal way possible in all his songs.

Digital background voices “ooh” with unnatural sustain. The main singing melody enters with old-style warble, simultaneously the height of futurism. A lovely little duet ensues until the song takes the Sinatra version’s middle section and refracts it into multi-voice loops. At the climax of the song, the automated voice shows "his" personality by bending tones in a way human voices will never achieve. Maybe it’s this robot’s quiet moment of rebellion in the excitement of love.

The ending is carried, of course, by a delicate flute repeating the song’s simple, dashing main melody. The percussion picks up a tick. The background sounds grow thicker. Every minuscule sound is managed until it all carefully recedes to silence.

tags: Cornelius, Music writing, music, 365 day music challenge
categories: Music writing
Wednesday 03.29.17
Posted by Jon Quijano
 
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