|
Pif Magazine
Pif Magazine |
There once was a jazz/punk band called The Minutemen. These Minutemen did not carry muskets. Their name was derived from the simple fact that few of their songs ever lasted more than a minute long. When asked why, bassist Mike Watt explained that he never liked entire songs — only parts of songs. He figured the essence of any good song occurs within a minute's time, and everything else is just repetition. Punk rock minimalism. I've listened to a lot of music since Mike Watt's "song parts" theory was introduced to my brain, and I do catch myself waiting for "that special part" to come along. In the car, I'll interrupt conversation with my wife to turn up the CD player and say, "Hold on, here comes that part." I've even made cassette tapes that loop nothing but a single 15-second song part for 45 minutes straight. Yes, I'm a freak, but what I enjoy in extreme others may enjoy in moderation. What follows are six classic song parts. They are from six very good songs, and each song is on a fairly solid album, so buyer need not beware. But if you'd rather not shell out the cash for a 30-second segment, most of these songs may also be discovered in mp3 form on the Web. Just remember, this bong is for smoking TOBACCO ONLY. And now, on with the countdown... Curt's six favorite song parts 6. Bittersweet Symphony (beginning)
Prior to Urban Hymns, The Verve was known for its swirling, layered, trippy guitar sound. Since Urban Hymns, The Verve is known for this song. "Bittersweet Symphony" is actually new words set to an old Rolling Stones riff. If you'll notice, the same musical loop repeats throughout the entire song. Sure, the chorus has a different melody than the verse, but the chords are exactly the same. For a song to become a hit based on the merits of one riff alone, that riff must be pretty massive. And it is. The part of the song I'm focusing on is right at the beginning. It is a string symphony, reminiscent of "Eleanor Rigby," but even more dramatic. It begins slowly with a basic 4/4 pulse, and then a stringed counter-melody is introduced. As this loop repeats and intensifies, trippy guitar tracks begin to swell, supporting the 4/4 drone, washing it out, de-crisping it, mounting in bridled tension toward a sudden, lilting, symphonic crescendo that signals the advent of a steady stream of groovily syncopated snare cracks — and off we blast. Richard Ashcroft's voice creeps in "oohing" and "ahhing," barely distinguishable from the swirling guitars, presaging the crooning of the song's initial lyric, "Well it's a bittersweet symphony — this life." Don't you want to hit replay and listen to that introduction once more? What the heck, why not a second time? Shoot, you're in the car by yourself, and no one will know — go for a third time. Why not loop this 1 minute and 15 second excerpt over and over again for your entire 30-minute drive home from work? I would. Don't deny yourself the pleasure. You'll feel the sting of life's rich pageant soon enough. Now's the time to revel in ecstasy. Too much of a good thing is always a good thing. |
|||||||||||
