Song #305 of 9999 - Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush

Song #305 of 9999 

Title: Running Up That Hill
Artist: Kate Bush
Year: 1985
Album: Hounds of Love

Side one of Kate Bush's Hounds of Love is so good that it has taken me almost 45 minutes just to decide which track to feature in tonight's post. So I figured I'd go with the track Bush herself felt was most representative of the album, her most popular and accessible by this point in her career. The song has the added benefit of being featured in the closing ceremonies of the 2012 London Olympics so perhaps it is fresh in your memory.

Before there was Tori Amos, before there was Björk, there was Kate Bush with her remarkable range and unique tone quality. Quirky and artsy, she was a natural fit for her native England but failed to make a splash in the United States with early records. Less flowery and more primal, Hounds of Love connected with American audiences who had been primed by the British new wave of the previous few years.

"Running Up That Hill" melds tribal rhythms with angular melodies played on Bush's trademark Fairlight CMI and sung in her otherworldly soprano. The main melody is unusual for emphasizing a descending minor 7th, an interval rarely emphasized in any music, let alone the friendly confines of pop. (In fact, I cannot think of a single instance of this interval featured prominently anywhere and a cursory search on the internet resulted in lots of head-scratching theorists referencing only Gershwin's "An American in Paris," which does indeed begin with a descending minor 7th...that promptly resolves to a minor 6th—not quite the same thing.) Regular readers of this blog may also recognize our friend the pedal tone making a return appearance as the bass that accompanies the drum beat never once leaves the tonic note C despite all that is happening around it. Not even during that cool little bridge where Bush emerges from her art rock persona to sing something that sounds so pop ("come on baby/come on darling..."). It's such a special moment in this track because of how it so starkly contrasts with the prevailing mood of the song, which still sounds fresh and original to me over 25 years later.

Song #304 of 9999 - Born to Run by Bruce Springsteen

Song #304 of 9999 

Title: Born to Run
Artist: Bruce Springsteen
Year: 1975
Album: Born to Run

I've never owned a copy of Born to Run and honestly, I didn't really understand all the fuss until much later in my life. I was in elementary school when the record came out so I didn't even know about it until Springsteen was in his Born in the USA period and I wasn't a fan so I never investigated his back catalog. Even when I became familiar with the song "Born to Run," I never stopped to pay it much attention as I was so entrenched in progressive rock at the time.

Today, it's like finding a treasure buried in the back yard. I'm continually amazed by the performance, arrangement and recording of this song. It seems timeless to me and with good reason. Springsteen borrows the teen dramas of the 1950s (especially those involving love and cars, which usually end tragically), combines it with the production of Phil Spector in the 1960s and wraps it all up nice and neat with universal themes of nostalgia and escapism. Lyrically, he manages to capture feelings of longing, desperation, lust—all set against the backdrop of the freeway, the universal American metaphor for liberation, maybe even transcendence. It's you and me against the world but we're not fighting—we're gonna run like hell and never look back.

Musically, the arrangement is so dramatic that, in lesser hands, it may devolve into overkill. But the E Street Band knows that, to make big moments, you have to stay small most of the time and they use dynamics very effectively. In fact, this is one of the most symphonic pop songs I've ever heard. Glockenspiels and saxophones, spaghetti-western guitars, swelling organs—there are so many different colors and in just the right doses. At 2:53, the descending unison chromatic line that sets up the return to the verse is riveting in its cinematic scope. And when Springsteen inexplicably counts the band in right before the recap at 3:05 (remember, this is the studio version—why would the band need to be counted in?), he makes everyone listening a part of the experience by simulating the feeling of being at a live performance. It's a clever way of drawing you even further into the song, which is part of Springsteen's genius: he sings about things and places that are familiar to him but makes you feel like the song is about you.

Song #303 of 9999 - Kashmir by Led Zeppelin

Song #303 of 9999 

Title: Kashmir
Artist: Led Zeppelin
Year: 1975
Album: Physical Graffiti

"Kashmir" has recently been licensed for use on the NBC show Revolution so it's kind of in heavy rotation at the moment in advertising. It is also a featured track on the band's forthcoming release Celebration Day, which chronicles a 2007 reunion concert. It's such an oft-played track that it seems like there may not be much to say about it at this point, but there's always room for a quick theoretical analysis, right?

There are two forces at play that make "Kashmir" such a unique creation: one is rhythmic and one is tonal. Let's deal with the rhythmic element first. The primary motive of the piece, played by guitarist Jimmy Page, is in 3/4 time, with an arrangement of eighth and sixteenth notes that divides the measure evenly (in the diagram below, m. 2 is not correctly spaced because of the "Bb"). But the heavy drum track laid down by John Bonham is in a relentless common time that refuses to accommodate the triple meter of Page's riff. This creates a "windshield wiper" effect sometimes referred to as a polymeter.

Guitar
3  1e& 2 &a3 & | 1&a    2  &a3    &  | 1e& 2 &a3 & | 1e& 2 &a3 & |
4  AAA D AAA D | BbBbBb D  BbBbBb D  | BBB D BBB D | CCC D CCC D |
Drums
4  1   2   3     4    | 1    2         3   4 | 1     2   3   4   |   
4  B*  S*  B     S      B    S         B   S   B     S   B   S
*B=Bass Drum, S=Snare Drum

I like to imagine the conversation went like this. Jimmy: "Oh John, actually, this track is in 3/4." John: "It's in whatever meter I say it is!" (punches Page in gut) The effect of these conflicting elements is mesmerizing, especially when paired with the looping chromatic line Page is playing. (Robert Plant has stated that "it was what [Bonham] didn't do that made it work" and I think this nonconformity to the meter is what he's referring to.) During the breaks, the instruments join Bonham in 4/4, albeit with a syncopated rhythm that still suggests 3/4 or even 6/8. My favorite moment occurs at 2:14 where the 4/4 meter is interrupted and a bar of 3/8 is inserted in place of beat four. (There are other ways to notate this, but this is how I have seen it written: 3/4 + 3/8.) The six sixteenth notes that occupy the 3/8 bar then become the last six notes of the 4/4 bars that follow. It's one of my favorite transitions in all of pop (or anywhere for that matter).

While the rhythmic elements drive and steer the song, the tonal elements provide the Eastern flavor that resonates so much with most listeners. Truthfully, as much as we'd like to think this is what Eastern music sounds like, it's still very Western, employing no quarter tones and not based on the any of the Arabic scales known as the maqam or anything resembling an Indian raga. In fact, the song seems to rely primarily on the D Mixolydian mode (one sharp like a G scale but it starting and ending on D) as its source with occasional forays into D melodic minor. Still, the rising chromatic line in Page's riff is almost monumental in its scope. It reminds me of an ant repeatedly (and triumphantly) scaling a hill only to be knocked back down and begin again—it has that kind of steady perseverance. And the song's emphasis on drones and open fifths rather than full chords does give it a heterophonic sound consistent with Arabic music.

Amazing song. Probably the height of Led Zeppelin's achievement as a band. It's easy to see why they continue to inspire and intrigue young listeners decade after decade.

Song #302 of 9999 - Squeeze Box by The Who

Song #302 of 9999 

Title: Squeeze Box
Artist: The Who
Year: 1975
Album: The Who By Numbers

I'm going to make this brief tonight because a) I'm tired and b) I don't really have much to say about this song—I just like it! It's such a funny song. I'm not really a sexual innuendo kind of guy, but this Pete Townshend-penned classic that uses the slang term for an accordion as a metaphor for a woman's chest just delights me to no end. I think the reason it works and doesn't come off as completely foul or gratuitous is that it's sung from the perspective of the couple's son (or daughter, I suppose) and the woman with the squeeze box is the one initiating the, uh....performance. I love when Roger Daltrey slips into falsetto at 1:30 to personify the mom. The touches of accordion are nice (and not overly obvious) and the banjo is just fantastic. It's a terrific song, guaranteed to bring out the giddy eight-year-old in you who still gets a kick out of the word "boobs."

Song #301 of 9999 - Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac

Song #301 of 9999 

Title: Rhiannon
Artist: Fleetwood Mac
Year: 1975
Album: Fleetwood Mac

"Rhiannon" is a fascinating little pop song by Stevie Nicks, who shared lead vocal chores for the FM radio band Fleetwood Mac during their most lucrative years. What intrigues me about this song is the mileage Nicks and the band get out of three chords.

Let's face it: three-chord songs have been around forever. The I-IV-V progression is a staple of the 1950s. (And 60s and 70s and 80s....well, you get the picture.) What's different about this song is the chords themselves—the i (a minor), the VI (F Major) and the III (C Major)—and the way they relate to one another during the song. I'm going to put special emphasis on the F Major chord, which seems to carry a lot of tension during the verses when it serves as a contrast to the tonic (i), during the progression i-VI, but seems almosts like a resting point during the chorus when contrasted with the III chord, during the progression III-VI. Here's how this all lays out within the song:

Am (i)
Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night
F (VI)
And wouldn't you love to love her?
Am (i)
Takes to the sky like a bird in flight
F (VI)
And who will be her lover?

C (III)
All your life you've never seen a woman
F (VI)
Taken by the wind
C (III)
Would you stay if she promised you heaven?
F (VI)
Will you ever win?

I think the difference is pretty obvious to the ear and I would go so far as to say the variations in tension support the idea that the chorus is actually in a different key (the relative C Major), even though the chords all fit nicely into A Minor. Its the way the chords function that leads me to this conclusion. The F in the chorus feels less like a VI than a IV and the C feels more like a I, making the chorus progression I-IV in C Major instead of III-VI in A Minor. Those of you with music theory backgrounds may find this analysis to be obvious, but I like the way it illustrates the variations in weight chords can have in relation to one another and to a given tonal center.

Toward the surface, there's a really cool thing that happens during the chorus with the backing vocals when the band sings "Rhiaaaaaaaa-non." At this point, we're back in A Minor with the i-VI (Am-F) progression. But the three-part harmony sung on top of the F bass is a C Major triad! This creates the very lush Fmaj7(add9). But the coolest moment is on the fourth repetition where the vocalists adjust two of the three notes to sing an F Major triad, which completely changes the complexion of the chord. It almost sounds like an entirely different chord (well, it kind of is) but if you check the bass, it's still an F. But an F with so much more stability than on the first three passes! Such a clever moment as it creates a firm turnaround to the tonic of the verse, decorated nicely by Lindsay's Buckingham's guitar break (at 1:50). It's the best moment in a very cool song.

Songs #299 & 300 - It's TWOsday!

Song #299 of 9999                        Song #300 of 9999

Title: Chocolate City                       Title: Give Up the Funk (Tear the Roof Off the Sucker)
Artist: Parliament                            Artist: Parliament

Year: 1975                                     Year: 1975
Album: Chocolate City                    Album: Mothership Connection

Before they realized their all-encompassing vision of "One Nation Under a Groove," George Clinton and Parliament-Funkadelic seemed to be on a mission to redefine the role of the black man in 1970s America. Taking a page from the if-you-can-imagine-it-it-can-happen book, Clinton wrote songs that imagined a world where a black man could be president or find himself in outer space. (It took eight years to achieve the latter compared to 33 for the former, but he got it right on both counts. Glad he was around to bear witness.) 

Parliament released two albums in 1975 and, although Mothership Connection made the bigger splash, Chocolate City has its merits. More political, but just as playful, the album's title track consists of spoken word dialogue as Clinton pays homage to the nation's capital and the rise of "chocolate cities" (those dominated by black populations) all over the country (as well as their surrounding "vanilla suburbs"). The groove is more contained and subtle than what we've come to expect from Parliament (listen to the incremental dynamic changes in the opening groove) and the frequently polyphonic improvisation delves well into jazz (check out the interplay between pianist Bernie Worrell and saxophonist Michael Brecker at 4:18). I personally think you could almost fool anyone into believing this is a lost Frank Zappa track.

Just a few short months later and "Give Up the Funk" would define George Clinton and Parliament for the masses. The section that begins "you've got a real type of thing..." is unmistakably Clinton with its everyone-in-the-house-join-in chant. The B section that follows is especially interesting in the way Bootsy Collins sets his bass in unison with the vocal line. Speaking of Bootsy, doesn't his bass just shine on this track, percolating over a classic (and deceptively simple) James Brown-style drum groove? Before you get too wrapped up in the fun of this tune, take a moment to notice the synths: crazy pre-"Planet Rock" Afrika Bambaataa-type licks in the left channel and a pad droning on forever in the right. Interesting, almost unnoticeable touches.

Are you not entertained?! Average number of chords for each track: one. That takes skill, people.

Song #298 of 9999 - St. Elmo's Fire by Brian Eno

Song #298 of 9999 

Title: St. Elmo's Fire
Artist: Brian Eno
Year: 1975
Album: Another Green World

By 1975, Brian Eno had begun his transition from glam rocker to ambient music champion. Like his classical idols and contemporaries—Erik Satie, John Cage, Terry Riley—Eno eschewed the status quo and adopted the philosophy of the minimalists and chance music pioneers. He entered the studio in 1975 with no songs written or any real idea of what he was going to produce. He employed a set of cards he co-developed, called Oblique Strategies (Over One Hundred Worthwhile Dilemmas), to stave off writer's block and guide him through the process. He was setting out to create an art project, which may or may not also be a pop album.

What I like about Another Green World is that the songs (and I'm specifically talking about the five pieces with words, not the instrumentals) embody a unique blend of Eno's past and future. On "St. Elmo's Fire," for example, the accompaniment tracks are so richly textured, bubbly synths interacting with metallic pianos and wooden percussion. Guitars that are either overdriven and sustained or frantically mimicking an electric charge. (Eno had directed guitarist Robert Fripp to play this way, presumably to reflect the natural phenomenon referenced in the title.) Ascending and descending synth flutes occupying the same space as disembodied backing vocals.

Yet, it's still a song with a basic verse-chorus structure and somewhat intriguing lyrics. So the pop musician hasn't disappeared completely from Eno's solo efforts at this point. But even the vocal melodies suggest the tape loops are coming, with the verse consisting of four identical phrases and the chorus two. The record is a unique snapshot of an artist working his way out of a cocoon and I find the transformation to be more interesting than the before or after.