Watch me hit the ground running.
Good evening and welcome back to our normally scheduled programming. I have been listening to a lot of music in the past year that is not necessarily morbid or depressing, but rather comes from a place of ominous or somber contemplation. Just what does that mean, you ask? Looking at the posts I've written about Portishead, Akira Yamaoka and Gayngs, it should be apparent that I have a certain zeal for music that serves, in a way, to create an ad hoc soundtrack for my own life. Songs that fit well behind walking down the streets of Minneapolis and observing life while contemplating my own narrative. Par example, there is a play list on my phone titled 'Sneaking'. This is not to say I do any sneaking of any sort, but that it would all be music that would fit well behind footage of a spy looking over their shoulder as they slip undetected past guards, or perhaps a gumshoe trailing someone while flipping through a notebook, perusing his clues. I like the idea of living out a noir film in my mind; admittedly it's escapism at the basest level. I probably sound incredibly vain and delusional as I type all of this.
The admission, though, does nothing to diminish the enjoyment. It's just a thing I do to help me find an amusing little way to get through the day. A dark winter's night walking back from the bus stop feels a little less difficult to endure with the proper soundtrack. I've probably scared you off by now, haven't I? Oh well. The point of all this embarrassing admission is that in my play list I stumbled across a song that, while certainly fantastic and notorious among certain circles, it goes largely unappreciated by today's audiences. The song I speak of? Radiohead's sublime addition to the soundtrack of 1996's Romeo + Juliet, 'Talk Show Host'.
Radiohead, as I've written here before, are the hipster deities of youth, making some of the most widely celebrated (and according to some, overrated) post-modern music around. Having vaulted to the top of the charts courtesy of the radio hit 'Creep' in the early 90s, the group quickly grew tired of the alt-rock scene, all verse-chorus-verse and guitar oriented songs about love and loss. So they branched out. Each album saw them grow progressively left of center, eveuntually descending into the noise-songs they make today. There was a period, though, in the late 90s where the band hit a sweet spot right between avant-garde, intentionally unapproachable art and radio-friendly alt rock. This would be just after The Bends and segeuing into OK Computer, both of which are often hailed as cultural touchstones for alterna-rock and modern music in general. Between these two albums was a song they either dismissed or offered to Baz Luhrmann's ahead-of-its-time take on the Shakespearean classic.
Initially a b-side to the heartbreaking and bleak single 'Street Spirit', 'Talk Show Host' was actually remixed by Nellee Hooper for the soundtrack and given a whole new feel. Hooper's influence here is certainly worth note as well, in particular for his work with other artists I've written on such as Bjork, Garbage, Massive Attack and the amazing (and pending relevant article) single by U2 'Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me'. Hooper's influence added a bit of thump and groove to what is otherwise a talented if stiff and uptight band of self-important artists' artists. What would have been a fairly rote take on the Radiohead sound at the time was suddenly broken and allowed to breathe. It turns out when you crack open a Radiohead song and let the songs grow in their exposure to the natural world around them, they do so organically and in a very natural progression of ideas and themes already present.
The song itself is very sparse, a mix of eerily plucked guitar notes and a simple bass line. In stark contrast to the spinning, blinking and glowing world of pop music and frenetic attitude of the film it scored, this remix of 'Talk Show Host' is almost a minimalist approach that makes it stand out from the pack. One could almost forget what has been played, or even what was happening around it, as it suddenly picks up again, notes beating against the lingering bass line. Thom Yorke's vocals are muted and soft, barely finishing his phrases. He comes off as conversely confrontational and self-dismissive as he sings of daring those in search of him to "come find me" and to "come on and break the door down, I'll be waiting with a gun and a pack of sandwiches" finishing each verse with "I'm ready". It's quite a haunting (to continue my overuse of the word) and disturbing mood he creates, both antagonistic and self-loathing. Basically Thom writing from his wheelhouse.
This song is an absolute hidden gem, a wonderful, secret thing that lies waiting on your hard drive to be stumbled upon via shuffle. If it's in your collection, put it on. I guarantee you'll find yourself saying "Oh man, I totally forgot how good this song was!" Then you'll probably start flipping through the soundtrack and put on great cuts like 'Lovefool' by The Cardigans and '#1 Crush' by Garbage. A good sign of the times. Dig it up and see. I'm glad to be back doing regular posts, thanks for sticking it out through the break.
Good evening and welcome back to our normally scheduled programming. I have been listening to a lot of music in the past year that is not necessarily morbid or depressing, but rather comes from a place of ominous or somber contemplation. Just what does that mean, you ask? Looking at the posts I've written about Portishead, Akira Yamaoka and Gayngs, it should be apparent that I have a certain zeal for music that serves, in a way, to create an ad hoc soundtrack for my own life. Songs that fit well behind walking down the streets of Minneapolis and observing life while contemplating my own narrative. Par example, there is a play list on my phone titled 'Sneaking'. This is not to say I do any sneaking of any sort, but that it would all be music that would fit well behind footage of a spy looking over their shoulder as they slip undetected past guards, or perhaps a gumshoe trailing someone while flipping through a notebook, perusing his clues. I like the idea of living out a noir film in my mind; admittedly it's escapism at the basest level. I probably sound incredibly vain and delusional as I type all of this.
The admission, though, does nothing to diminish the enjoyment. It's just a thing I do to help me find an amusing little way to get through the day. A dark winter's night walking back from the bus stop feels a little less difficult to endure with the proper soundtrack. I've probably scared you off by now, haven't I? Oh well. The point of all this embarrassing admission is that in my play list I stumbled across a song that, while certainly fantastic and notorious among certain circles, it goes largely unappreciated by today's audiences. The song I speak of? Radiohead's sublime addition to the soundtrack of 1996's Romeo + Juliet, 'Talk Show Host'.
Initially a b-side to the heartbreaking and bleak single 'Street Spirit', 'Talk Show Host' was actually remixed by Nellee Hooper for the soundtrack and given a whole new feel. Hooper's influence here is certainly worth note as well, in particular for his work with other artists I've written on such as Bjork, Garbage, Massive Attack and the amazing (and pending relevant article) single by U2 'Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me'. Hooper's influence added a bit of thump and groove to what is otherwise a talented if stiff and uptight band of self-important artists' artists. What would have been a fairly rote take on the Radiohead sound at the time was suddenly broken and allowed to breathe. It turns out when you crack open a Radiohead song and let the songs grow in their exposure to the natural world around them, they do so organically and in a very natural progression of ideas and themes already present.
