The Curious Case of CD32: Part #3

We're back to over-analysing and justifying the track-list of the 32nd in-car compilation CD I made to introduce my son to the exciting world of pop music...

Track 9: Teardrop Explodes - Reward

One of those clear "why didn't I put this on an earlier CD?" moments, to which I have no sensible answer. Julian Cope's biggest hit, and arguably his finest hour. What can I say about Reward that hasn't been said by far smarter musicologists... like JC, The Vinyl Villain, for example...

The Guardian newspaper, in March 2015, had a feature on Reward in which Julian Cope and keyboardist Dave Balfe explained how they came up with and went about making the song.  It turns out it was written in the main by guitarist Alan Gill, with him coming up initially with the bassline. Cope wanted it to sound like a northern soul classic and their first stab at it came via an effort for a BBC radio session but when they later got into the actual recording studio, the frontman decided to remove the drum intro so that the first and last thing you heard were trumpets, which, to be fair, was a stroke of genius as this is the instrument which really drives the song forward at pace. Balfe, in confirming that the band had problems coming up initially with a satisfactory recording and mix, heaps praise on the frontman for the end result, describing it as “…a mad awesome record unlike anything else in pop. We sounded like Vikings on acid fronted by a lunatic.”

Beyond JC's wise words, I will add that Reward contains one of the great opening lines...

Bless my cotton socks, I'm in the news

...apparently, Julian's reaction at becoming a music press darling back in 1981. The irony being that if the artist wishes to maintain any consistent level of popular success, he needs to sell out or shut up. You can't have your cake and eat it, pal.

Prisoners stand in queues and stand accused

Live in solitude like Howard Hughes
All wrapped up the same
All wrapped up the same

Silence has it
Arrogance has it
I can't have it, ooh
Until I learn to accept my reward

Like all the very best pop songs from the early 80s, Rewards benefits greatly from the trumpets JC mentioned... although the trumpeters are seen driving around in a jeep in the video. As a former brass instrument player myself (see below), I'm not sure you'd get the best sounds out of your trumpet in that scenario.

Track 10: Kaiser Chiefs - Ruby

Another one of those songs I included more because it's a big catchy hit than because I love it. I do try and support the Kaiser Chiefs, since on paper they're my sort of band - local lads made good with one foot in pop and the other in indie, and generally their lyrics are a step up from the twaddle-swagger of Oasis and their ilk.

But...

But...

Beyond their debut album... maybe even beyond their debut chart hit (the undeniably excellent I Predict A Riot)... whisper it... Kaiser Chiefs are a little annoying, aren't they? They don't display the same levels of colossal arrogance as the Squabbling Mancs... but they can't help but appear ever so pleased with themselves at times. Nowhere more is that going to to be true then than on their sole Number One from 2007, when for a week at least, they were kings of the world.     

It seems especially galling to me now that I slipped this one in between Reward and the track that follows it. But it's a big pop hit, and one of the few I can stomach from 2007, so that's my defence...

Track 11: Joni Mitchell - Big Yellow Taxi

...which brings us back to the classics. 

For many years, Big Yellow Taxi was the only Joni Mitchell song I knew. I remember when I started working in radio, it would have been the only Joni song that stood a chance of getting played on our station (her only UK hit), and yet we didn't have a copy of it in the record library. Somebody brought their copy in from home and I dutifully recorded it onto cart so we could play it when needed.

Big Yellow Taxi is one of those perfect pop songs - as long as you promise never to listen to anyone sing it except Joni. Here's the lady herself, talking in 1969, telling the story of how she came to write it...

"Two weekends ago I went to Hawaii. It was my first time there and I was only there for two days which was kind of a bummer, I wish I could’ve really seen more of the island and I arrived there at 11 o’clock at night and the next morning I ran to the window and threw back the curtains and sure enough, there it was, paradise, you know, green, lush hills, old Sugarloaf Mountain up there, white birds flying low, Myna birds all over the place, and, right in the middle of it all, was a big parking lot [laughing]. So I wrote this little rock and roll song to commemorate the occasion. It’s called “Big Yellow Taxi,” or, alternately, “They Paved Paradise and Put in a Parking Lot.”

I have included the lyric above in English lessons as an example of good alliteration in pop songs. I'll crowbar my favourite songs into class however I can.

Track 12: John Miles - Music

I won't claim that every song I've put on these CDs for Sam has been a winner, but only occasionally has he asked me to take a song off (The Yeah Yeah Yeah song by the Flaming Lips was one he found particularly disturbing). Apathy is more likely than antipathy, and of all the songs on CD32, this would probably be the one that's sparked the least interest.

It is, let's be honest about it, a rather odd little pop song - not that little and not particularly pop, despite the message which appears universally aimed at those of us who cherish pop music as a lifeline.

Music was my first love
And it will be my last.
Music of the future
And music of the past.

To live without my music
Would be impossible to do.
In this world of troubles,
My music pulls me through.

You may not like the song, but I'd be surprised if you can't get behind the sentiment.

This relatable piano ballad section only accounts for about a third of Music's 6 minute run time though - the rest is orchestral pomp and swagger that would make Jimmy Webb proud. (McArthur Park was clearly an influence.) Apparently Music was regularly performed at The Last Night of the Proms, and I can understand why; it has that rousing, anthemic quality that would go down well with the flag-wavers, even though there's nothing remotely political or patriotic about it - unless you're patriotic about music itself, which I certainly am (far more so than I am about any particular patch of earth).

The song holds special significance for me because we used to play it in brass band - it's one of the few modern songs I remember performing as a tenor horn player. And whenever I remember those times, I remember how much in love I was with the horn player I sat next to, but she was a year older and she had boys in her room. Music was my first love... and it will be my last.