Category Archives: Controlled Explosions

Non-Album Tracks #6: ‘A Life Less Ordinary’

My sixth Non-Album Tracks post. Like the last one, this one’s a soundtrack track. Its parent film may not have been as good, but the song’s a winner.

Ash – ‘A Life Less Ordinary’
Released on:
A Life Less Ordinary [Soundtrack - 1997]

A Life Less Ordinary - Soundtrack

Also available on:
‘A Life Less Ordinary’ [Single - 1997]
Intergalactic Sonic 7″s [Compilation - 2002]

The summer of 1996 was a coming-of-age summer for me. I was twelve. Just out of primary school and due to start in the big bad world of second-level education – and officially become a teenager – that September. During this time, I was a Scout. A Sea Scout, in fact. And that year, I attended a large camp (or jamboree, if you will) held at Lough Erne in Co. Fermanagh, Northern Ireland. (Fact: this remains, as of Dec 2011 – over 15 years later – the one and only time I have ever been to Northern Ireland.)

Over the course of this camp I met a girl from Dundalk, with whom had my first proper kiss. And quite a few further kisses – she was even kind enough to pass on to me a case of strep throat. Soundtracking a lot of this were several singles from the album 1977 – the debut full-length from the Northern Irish band Ash. The songs were ubiquitous: especially ‘Girl From Mars’, ‘Goldfinger’ and, what seemed to become the unofficial theme of the camp, ‘Oh Yeah’.

I don’t know if it’s because of the inevitable associations I’ve made with the time that it was, but the songs have a definite “young” quality. The fact that two-thirds of the band were under 20 at the time probably helped. But they’re all short, simple, unpretentious (not to say young people can’t be pretentious…). Young

In the summer of 2001, Ash singles were ubiquitous once again. Their third album, Free All Angels, was everywhere, thanks mainly to its two popular lead singles: the masterfully melodic piece of genius that is ‘Shining Light’ and the good-but-actually-quite-overrated-especially-when-compared-to-Shining-Light ‘Burn Baby Burn’. And though the band were five years older, the songs still had that young, effervescent, teenage feeling.

In between these periods of omnipresence? Well, in late 1998 they released their second album, Nu-Clear Sounds, which was not as well-received as its predecessor. It was edgier, occasionally darker and lot less “young”. I say this listening to it now. I don’t remember hearing it or its singles – or much about it, really – at the time. I probably did hear ‘Jesus Says’ at some point. And I remember there being some controversy around the video for ‘Numbskull’ (NSFW). It clearly wasn’t controversial enough, however, as the album kind of vanished into obscurity, dragging the band with it.

Before this sophomore slump upturned the boat, Ash managed to release one standalone gem to the world:

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A Life Less Ordinary was Danny Boyle’s third film, his first to be made in America. After the one-two punch of Shallow Grave and Trainspotting, the film was a seen as a disappointment. I thought it was pretty good, though it certainly had its flaws. Holly Hunter was great in it. I love Holly Hunter… Anyway… the soundtrack album also failed to live up to Trainspotting‘s. If not in quality, then certainly in cultural penetration. Beck’s ‘Deadweight’, however great it was (and however fantastic Michel Gondry’s video for it was), was never going to outdo ‘Born Slippy’. And the soundtrack committed a heinous crime by including the horrible alternate version of R.E.M.’s best song, instead of the original album version, which features much more prominently (and memorably) in the film.

Ash’s title track appears only instrumentally in the film itself, where [spoiler alert] Ewan McGregor and Cameron Diaz’s characters successfully rob a bank, then afterwards, in the heat of the moment, share their first kiss – complete with a fairly un-Hollywood shiny string of saliva connecting their mouths as they pull away.  It’s that kind of messy urgency you get with the whole young, teenage love thing that I seem to be going on and on about.

But that is still its appeal. ‘A Life Less Ordinary’ succeeds for the same reasons ‘Goldfinder’ and ‘Oh Yeah’ do. It might be slightly more developed in terms of songwriting and production – possibly aided by the augmentation of the line-up, with Charlotte Hatherley joining as a second guitarist. But its core is the exact same. It’s that simple, primal yearning – exemplified by the first line of the chorus: “so take me in your arms again.” It isn’t complex, but it doesn’t need to be. Any complexity would lessen its effect.

When the band resurrected itself, storming the charts with Free All Angels and touring extensively in 2001 and 2002, their sets were dominated by the new tracks and the 1977 singles. The Nu-Clear Sounds material didn’t get much of a look in. ‘A Life Less Ordinary’ was a staple though. And, as far as I know, has remained so since.

Justifiably so.

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Shared Name/Shared Love #3: ‘Stockholm Syndrome’

Shared Name/Shared Love: a series looking at pairs of songs I like, both with the same name. In this, the third installment, we have a band I know I should love, but still haven’t really got around to it – and a band I didn’t like, then liked and am now a bit indifferent to…

Yo La Tengo – ‘Stockholm Syndrome’
from:
I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One [1997]
Muse – ‘Stockholm Syndrome
from:
Absolution [2003]
Yo La Tengo - I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One Muse - Absolution

I first became aware of Yo La Tengo, around the time their Summer Sun album came out in 2003. I remember reading a couple of articles about them, being intrigued by the band’s name and some mentions of Sonic Youth. But the intrigue was not enough to get me to pick up the album.

They remained on the outskirts of my radar, their name popping up on music sites every so often. I built up a picture of them in my mind. They seemed to have a reputation for having great versatility, a good sense of humour, for being a great live act, etc. Everyone seemed to think they were brilliant. I had no reason to doubt this, I just didn’t have that impetus to dive in.

The deadlock broke a couple of years after first hearing about them, when I spotted their best-of compilation Prisoners of Love on special offer in Tower Records. The collection had 26 tracks from 1985-2003, spread over two discs (there is also three-disc version – the third CD dedicated to rarities). I brought it home and prepared to have my first ever Yo La Tengo listening experience.

‘Stockholm Syndrome’ is track five on the first disc. To be honest, on first listen, it did not stand out for me at all. I instantaneously latched on to the noisier numbers, like ‘Sugarcube’ and ‘From a Motel 6′ - and fell in love with their delicate cover of George McRae’s ‘You Can Have It All’. But after repeated listens, ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ began to shine through.

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To be fair, it is – on first impression – quite a subdued, downbeat song. It chugs along sedately at first, with James McNew’s plaintive vocal questioning “what’s the matter?” It sounds pleasant and simple enough, but nothing particularly spectacular.

The magic really starts with the chorus, when McNew reaches for the higher notes, with Georgia Hubley’s husky backing vocals coming in underneath.  The blend of their voices is sublime. And then, out of nowhere, we get a bruising, distorted lead guitar crashing in for a brief solo. The song is then inverted, going back to the chorus and finishing with another sombre verse. The palindromic structure reflects the heartbreak that comes from having gained something, built it up – and then losing it. Or something like that…

Despite really liking that compilation. I never really went on to become a full-on Yo La Tengo fan. I’m still not really sure why. The potential is still there. I just need to find some time…

When Muse first showed up, I loathed them. This was around the time MTV2 had launched – and we finally had a channel constantly playing “alternative” music. Unfortunately, it did feature a bit of nu-metal Papa Roach/Limp Bizkit shite – and then it kept showing videos from this three-piece English band with a really whiny lead singer who did loads of masturbatory guitar stuff. And the videos themselves were so annoying, with their heavy-handed concepts of girls seeing shit in mirrors or getting lost in anonymous buildings or – most irritating of all – that one with everyone crying their eyes out.

Things obviously got worse when everyone started heaping praise on them and making them really popular. People went nuts over the first single from their second album and I couldn’t understand it. The vocals were even whinier and the guitar parts even wankier. Ugh.

The first chink in my armour appeared when they came out with ‘New Born’. I really wanted to hate it – and thought I was going to be vindicated when the song opened up with a minute long intro of Matt Bellamy wailing over a twinkly piano part. But then that riff kicked in. I couldn’t help it. It was undeniably brilliant. Damn them!

I had a soft spot for the next single, ‘Bliss’, but with ‘Hyper Music’ and that grating cover of ‘Feeling Good’, I could comfortably go back to disliking/trying to ignore them.

And then, sometime in the summer of 2003, probably not too long after I was first reading about Yo La Tengo, they came out with the first single of their third album. And it kicked my arse:

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(embedding disabled on the official video, you can see it here – though it’s a bit meh, so…)

I’m not sure exactly what it is about this track that got to me. I mean, all the ingredients are pretty much the same things that pissed me off about them all along. But it all just came together brilliantly. For once, the shreddy, wanky guitar and the moany shrieking vocals served the song, elevating it to some higher level. And that line in the chorus, “this is the last time I’ll abandon you.” – simple, powerful.

I ended up getting – and liking – the Absolution album. And the album after that too. I even went to see them live in Fukuoka. And enjoyed it. But then they went and released The Resistance and made it difficult to keep liking them. Sadly.

Re-listening to the two ‘Stockholm Syndrome’ songs back-to-back, it’s tricky to pick one over the other. They’re two completely different types of song. The Muse track packs much more of a punch. But then Yo La Tengo’s, guitar solo excepted, isn’t really aiming for a punch. It’s wrenching power vs low-key subtlety.

I think I might have to go with Muse’s, simply due to its ability to actually induce a sort of Stockholm syndrome in me – where I actually began to have positive feelings for a band that had held me hostage with tracks that had irritated me so.

What do you reckon yourselves?


Self-Retrospect #6: ‘Apple Tree’

Episode six of the stubbornly self-centred Self-Retrospect series, in which I go on and on about old songs of mine, as if they are of great importance. In this installment: mysterious metaphors, twisted tunings and bouncing basslines.

Arriving at the tail end of that pre-Leaving Cert burst of activity I wrote about last time, ‘Apple Tree’ remains quite a proud achievement for me. I think it came together really well. Musically, that is. Lyrically…

Apple Tree - metaphor

Yes, I have mixed feelings about the lyrics. I don’t think any major new ground was broken. The overall thrust of it was, once again, pining after someone. I suppose a slight innovation was its focus on what might happen if I actually acted upon my desire – questioning whether it would actually work out, rather than assuming the fairy tale ending. The whole thing was then filtered through this quite ridiculous, deliberately vague metaphor. What does “eating your celery” specifically mean? Who knows? I often hear/read writers being coy and saying they like to leave things open to interpretation/up to the audience’s imagination. I reckon a reasonable percentage of such utterances are in cases where they have no idea themselves.

I did like how the words sounded though. Each line had the exact same phrasing and rhyme, which gave it a kind of playful, nursery rhyme kind of quality. Anyway, I’ll move on…

Writing about ‘Breaking’, I mentioned that my interest in Sonic Youth would have a massive influence on my approach to guitar tunings. This is true. Between 2001 and 2006 about two-thirds of all the songs/pieces I recorded had non-standard tunings. (Although, interestingly, of the 10 songs on the pseudo-best-of Projects, two-thirds are in standard tuning. Selection is about 50/50.) Some of these tunings were usual, common variations, or not far off. Some were lifted directly from SY’s playbook. Others were my own invention:

Apple Tree - guitar 1

As far as I know (and as far as Google tells me), I may be the first and only person to have utilized this GGEECC tuning. Clearly SY-inspired – with the paired strings and all (the pairs are tuned in unison, i.e. same note, same octave. Warning: tuning a guitar like this can really really confuse sound guys during soundchecks in live venues. One kept telling me to turn off the chorus effect I had on.) – it was also a bizarre open C, with the root notes actually the highest in pitch. This tuning initially arose when I wrote a song called ‘Undermind’ – a fractured, noisy number which used lots of harmonics.

(Actually, the original recording of ‘Undermind’ hasn’t been available online for years. I suppose now’s as good a time as any to unearth it:

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[download 'Undermind' mp3])

So, the idea with ‘Apple Tree’ was to take this same tuning and repurpose it in a much more traditional, poppy and much less noisy context. That was the intention. I’m not sure how traditional the result was. The song was in 6/8 timing – not ubiquitous, but not too uncommon. The intro and verses were just four chords – fairly straightforward, though the chords themselves were a bit weird. After the first sung verse, there was a short break. Then two more verses, followed by the break again, which became a breakdown/noisy outro – y’know, traditional…

What I liked about this, though, was how the second guitar part came into play. If you look at that Sonic Youth tuning list again, you’ll notice how – although they tended to match up on the early albums – Thurston and Lee would differ in their guitar tunings (e.g. on ‘Schizophrenia’, Thurston’s guitar is tuned to F#F#GGAA and Lee’s DDDDAA). ‘Apple Tree’ was not the first song I’d used two different tunings on, but it was the first where I tuned one guitar to specifically complement what the other was playing. I broke down the individual notes that were played in those four chords on the first guitar and then came up with a tuning that enabled me to play similar note combinations in a different manner (without having to make insane shapes with my hand). The result was this:

Apple Tree - guitar 2

So, I had two guitars - panned hard left (GGCF#AC) and right (GGEECC) in the stereo mix - playing odd sounding chords in an odd sounding combination. And it worked!

It did need something to anchor it though. This is where the bass came in. And it’s really the bass part that I’m most proud of. I know I had already been able to move on from basic root-note stuff, with the improvised part in ‘Never Knew…’ and the funky line in ‘Tiburón’, but this took it to a new level. It had an overall structure: progressing from sustained underpinning notes in the first verse, through beat-keeping ones in the break, into a carefully constructed ”proper” bass part for the second and third verses. I even tabbed the whole thing out:

Apple Tree - bass

In the end, it all gets noisy. Both guitars and the bass get distorted. The right guitar gets a wah pedal and the left one a chorus pedal with all the parameters set to the maximum. And then the clean guitars come in for a little reprise. The end.

Why not have a listen to the whole lot yourself:

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[download 'Apple Tree' mp3]

I can’t remember if I was doing it consciously at the time, but in retrospect, it seems that I was ripping off/paying tribute to/being inspired by the R.E.M. track ‘New Test Leper’: the 6/8 timing and the bassline, anyway. I loved playing that particular Mike Mills bass part, so it’s not at all inconceivable. I definitely put enough of my own spin on it though, surely…(?)

I have only ever played ‘Apple Tree’ live once. The practicalities of the guitar tuning are to blame for that. At that particular gig I brought a separate guitar to play it on – otherwise retuning would be a nightmare. Ger Lynch backed me up on drums and it actually sounded quite good. Except the vocals. My vocals were crap. The best part, though, was how we segued it into that original GGEECC song, ‘Undermind’. I’ll embed the video of that segue and ‘Undermind’ below (video of all of ‘Apple Tree’ still exists somewhere …I’m just not sure where). Before that, here’s the audio of the ‘Apple Tree’ performance. (To get the full, continuous song-transition experience, download Selection and listen to it on a gapless player!)

‘Apple Tree (live)’:

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‘Undermind (live)’ (w/ ‘Apple Tree’ outro):
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Top Ten Albums of 2000-2009: #5 – They Were Wrong, So We Drowned

Into the top half of my list of top ten albums of the last decade with undoubtedly the weirdest one of the bunch.

#5
Liars
They Were Wrong, So We Drowned
[2004]

Liars - They Were Wrong, So We Drowned

Before their second album appeared, Liars were kind of tagged with that “dance-punk” label, along with The Rapture, !!!, Radio 4 and so on. Listening to their first album, They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top, you can see why. The rhythm section had that tight, danceable groove. But there was definitely something a lot stranger and noisier going on.

This was made overwhelmingly clear in that album’s monumental last track ‘This Dust Makes That Mud’. It prowls menacingly for eight minutes, throwing in odd noises along the way. And then it locks into a short loop that repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats for another twenty-two minutes! It’s like an endurance test – the original, hipster Non-Stop Nyan Cat. I remember first listening to that song and – a couple of minutes into the looping part – wondering if I was going mad, or if my portable CD-player (those were the days, eh?) was broken.

There was a similar thing when I had They Were Wrong, So We Drowned playing while some friends and I played poker. The second track, ‘Steam Rose from the Lifeless Cloak’, came on and Ken asked if the CD was skipping. That track, though indeed repetitive, actually has more dynamic stuff going on in its looping. It’s also a much more merciful two minutes and fifty seconds.

In general They Were Wrong… is definitely more of a “difficult” listen than its predecessor. It’s noisier, more abrasive and just a whole lot stranger. And it wasn’t particularly danceable. The key reason for this was the departure of the first album’s bassist and drummer. Out went the locked-groove rhythm section and in came the more primitive, tribal stylings of Julian Gross. This caused a major shift in the sound of the band. Far more emphasis was now placed on texture rather than structure.

This shift was amplified by the band’s decision to make this a so-called “concept album”. The concept, in this case, was witches and witchcraft on the Brocken mountain in Germany. This, in turn, went hand-in-hand with the decision to record the album in the woods of New Jersey. The result was a collection of very earthy, visceral and spooky sounds and lyrics . Many reviews at the time billed it as a kind of musical equivalent to The Blair Witch Project. This association was not inappropriate.

I think all this is exemplified well in the video (directed by singer Angus Andrew’s then-girlfriend, Karen O) for the album’s second single ‘We Fenced Other Gardens with the Bones of Our Own’:

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The notion of the concept album is frequently derided as being a whole load of pretentious bollocks. And often concept albums are. But one good thing about them is that they, almost necessarily, are cohesive pieces of work. The same themes run through the songs and help to tie it all together. And They Were Wrong… does this very well. It almost feels like getting lost in the woods, enveloped by these unknown sounds you’re unsure of whether to trust or not, before stumbling across some group of hooded figures performing a ritual sacrifice around a fire. Or something.

If there’s one song that sticks out slightly, it’s track three, ‘There’s Always Room on the Broom’. It’s probably the closest thing on the album to their earlier work – with more of a bouncier rhythm to it. Perhaps this is why it was chosen as the first single. But it’s still fairly insane. The main riff is gratingly noisy and the lyrics are bizarre. When I first came across it I was pretty baffled. And this was in no way helped by the erratic, epileptic video I was seeing:

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The fact that this was at about two o’clock in the morning and I was watching the television in a completely darkened room in an empty house probably enhanced the confusion. It was crazy, but I absolutely loved it. The main riff sounded so wrong, but worked all the better because of it. And the playful-but-spooky chanting and ooh-ing – utilized through out the album – lodged itself in my head.

Having read about the recording in the woods and the story behind the album in advance, I was very eager to listen to it. And when I finally did, I was not disappointed.

Seeing them live for the first time, in May 2005, while they were touring this album, I was also quite excited. Though I was not entirely sure how they were going to translate the album to the stage. But they did. Brilliantly. That was, up till then, the best live performance I had ever seen. And very very very few gigs have impressed me even nearly as much since.

I think memories of that show probably unfairly influenced my decision to include the album the list. Many would argue that Liars’ follow-up to it, Drum’s Not Dead, is superior. And they’d have a point. Drum’s Not Dead is more fully-realized, more well-rounded and, heck, the individual songs are probably better. But it doesn’t have the boldness, the rawness or the purity of They Were Wrong, So We Drowned. …Which is probably just a real snobby, hipster-y, I-prefer-their-earlier-stuff kind of statement, I know. It’s probably just a bad habit I have – giving more value to the works that break the most ground, rather than the follow-ups that build on them: Fear of Music over Remain in Light, Pi over Requiem for a Dream, etc.

Or, yeah, maybe it’s because of that gig… But still, I don’t think it’s necessarily terrible to give extra credit to an album for what it achieved – on top of how it actually sounds. (I have a feeling I have in a previous post, or will in a future one, almost directly contradict myself on that – making some kind of good-music-is-just-music-that-sounds-good type of statement. Oh well…)

When I saw Liars live for the second time, in August 2010, when they were touring their fifth album, Sisterworld, they peppered their set with songs from Drum’s Not Dead - and even played one from the first album. But the highlight of the show – and the only time it really came close to that May 2005 – was the very last song of the evening, when they played the opening track from They Were Wrong…, ‘Broken Witch’. There really is nothing like ending a gig with the audience screaming “BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!”.

(this video is from a different 2010 performance, but you get the idea…)

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Non-Album Tracks #5: ‘Burn’

The fifth in a series of posts on my favourite Non-Album Tracks (i.e. songs never released by their artists on studio albums). This one’s a song I took a while getting into, by an act I took a while getting into.

Nine Inch Nails – ‘Burn’
Released on:
Natural Born Killers [Soundtrack - 1994]

Natural Born Killers - Soundtrack

When I saw Nine Inch Nails live for the first time – at the Barrowland Ballroom in Glasgow, July 2005 – I decided to take a strategic mid-set bathroom break during ‘Burn’. It was not a song I knew too well, so felt it was better to go then, lest I find myself having to go later on, during something that I truly did not want to miss. The same thing happened earlier that year, when I saw R.E.M. touring the questionable Around the Sun album: as soon as they started playing ‘Electron Blue’, I made a beeline for the jacks. In both cases, it worked out quite well. In the R.E.M. gig, I came back to two New Adventures… classics, ‘Electrolite’ and ‘Undertow’; in Glasgow, I returned to the floor to catch a crowd-enlivening Downward Spiral double of ‘Closer’ and ‘Reptile’. Fairly decent, although it wasn’t the most optimal piss-point in the gig: if had been able to hang on a few songs more, I might have been able to avoid having to stand through the interminable yawnfest that is ‘The Day the World Went Away’. Alas…

Let’s backtrack a bit. Much like Smashing Pumpkins, I didn’t start listening to Trent Reznor until quite a bit after the peak of his popularity. Of course, the video for ‘Closer’ made an impression, as I imagine it does with everyone who sees it. But this was entirely down to what my eyes – not my ears – were taking in. This was long before my allergy to anything electronic was cured by Primal Scream. Indeed, this was the reason I was initially resistant to the attempts of a friend to get me into Nine Inch Nails. This was in the early stages of a lengthy mix-tape/-CD exchange, which began with a conversation relating to Sonic Youth, during which I, High Fidelity-style, offered to make a tape.

I did listen to the homemade NIN compilation I received. A couple of times. But it did not fit my guitars-only tastes of the time at all. I think the first song on it was a remix of ‘Terrible Lie’. Me of early 2001 (I think that’s when this was) was not going to be swayed by a tracklist that featured song titles with parenthesized remix names. But one song cut through all this. It didn’t seem that electronic at all. I mean, I knew that there was a lot of electronic stuff going on in the track. But it didn’t sound “electronic”. It was fast, heavy and LOUD. That song was ‘Wish’.

In an ensuing conversation, I mentioned how ‘Wish’ stood out for me. A follow-up mix-CD I received a few weeks later was a lot heavier. And I got into it a lot more. I noticed that my favourite track on the second CD, like ‘Wish’, was originally released on Broken. A few months later, while in Belgium of all places, I found a cheap secondhand copy of Broken and bought it. (That other favourite track, which probably remains to this day my absolute favourite NIN track, was ‘Gave Up’.)

My Primal Scream-lead burgeoning acceptance of synthesizers and programmed beats fed my growing love of NIN – and vice versa. I bought every release I could find. At that point in time – 12 or 13 years into the existence of Nine Inch Nails, that consisted of a lot of singles, EPs and remix compilations – but only three studio albums. (By comparison: R.E.M., in their first 12 years, released nine.) Did this lead to a greater emphasis on non-album tracks? Not really. The albums – The Downward Spiral and The Fragile especially – seemed to tower over everything else in the NIN canon and got the vast bulk of my attention. I certainly never found myself rushing to listen to Things Falling Apart

I can’t remember when it was that I first heard the studio version ‘Burn’. I had heard – and mostly ignored, due to my ignorance of it – the performance of it in a bootleg of NIN’s Woodstock ’94 performance. It wasn’t when I bought the Natural Born Killers soundtrack, because that happened a good bit later. It must have been when I saw the video:

I can kind of see why I didn’t really get it at first. It takes a long long time to get going. You could fit one or two Pixies songs in there by the time it kicks off. It certainly did not have the urgency nor immediacy of songs like ‘Wish’ or ‘March of the Pigs’. But by then, I was appreciating the less in your face stuff too (and ‘Burn’ is still quite in your face when it gets in there).

I think the song’s main disadvantage was actually the very fact that it wasn’t on an album. As I said above, it was those to which I was listening the most. The absence of ‘Burn’ on any major Nine Inch Nails release meant that it just didn’t get any airtime for me. It never got the chance to grow on me.

This, of course, is the inherent disadvantage of the non-album track. Or was. Back then, listening to music was, for me, still a matter of taking a case off a shelf, taking the CD out and then putting it in a player of some kind. Nowadays, everything just goes on your MP3 player and can appear instantaneously.

If that Barrowland gig had been just a year or two later, I would have welcomed ‘Burn’ as a great song to hear, instead of as an ideal moment to relieve my bladder. Because the song, after I did get myself an MP3 player (to take my music collection to Japan), really did grow on me. I started to love it: its clattering drum loop; Trent’s bitter, angry megaphone vocal; the building layers of menacing tension, first with an inquisitive keyboard line – then a far less subtle bass synth; and then that bit where it really does kick off, when he’s “gonna burn this whole world down”.

The song (and the video) (and the soundtrack album as a whole) definitely captured the feeling of the film too. This was Reznor’s first attempt at writing music for a film. This would prove quite a rewarding medium for him – and us listeners. His recent score for The Social Network was outstanding – and bagged him an Oscar too. And in between ‘Burn’ and that, he delivered another two great non-album tracks: one from a very good filmone from a not very good film.

I did eventually get my chance to appreciate ‘Burn’ live properly. Twice in fact: it made the setlist on the second and third NIN performances I saw – Osaka in May 2007 and at the 2009 Summer Sonic Festival (also in Osaka). They were great.

I’ll leave you with what that 2009 performance of ‘Burn’ might have looked something like (one of Rob Sheridan’s great stage-shot videos – this one from Melbourne): Enjoy!