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April 13, 2007
Numerology: 5, 6, 7 (all good children go to heaven)
by David Klein
I amassed a number of worthy songs for the vaunted 5 spot, but nothing has knocked Iggy Pop’s man of small stature off his perch. David Bowie gave me pause, with the reluctant anthem “Five Years,” a great, underappreciated song, and the opener of what could easily be called Bowie’s greatest single album. In a sense, it is because the song is so much a part of Ziggy Stardust that it feels funny to pull it out of context. Not nearly on the same level but quite digable is “5 O’Clock World” by the Vogues (co-written by Petula Clark), although it was the nifty cover by Julian Cope that I first heard. Norman Cook, later Fatboy Slim, played bass in the Housemartins, who gave us the sunny, strummy “Five Get Over-Excited.” The Doors gave us, and Oliver Stone (personally, wrapped in banana leaves) “Five to One,” which contains the numerically boastful line, “They got the guns/But we got the numbers.” This is certainly someone’s idea of the perfect “5” song. And there’s old-school classics like “Five Guys Named Moe” and Dave Brubeck’s still-irresistible “Take Five,” which is only slightly tainted by its current association with doctor’s waiting rooms. But in the end I have to stand shoulder to shoulder in solidarity with Iggy’s angry yet triumphant aficionado of Sweden. I mean, what the hell. What the heck?
No, I’m not just trying to be clever here, but you have to admit this song follows “Five Foot One” pretty damned elegantly. (By the way, does anyone know of a song called “Seven Foot One,” perhaps an autobiographical ditty that Manute Bol used to sing to himself in the shower as a teen?) Seriously, I know you really, really dig “From a Motel 6” by Yo La Tengo. Me too. It was my “6” song up until recently, but since 6 is never spoken (in fairness, they do mention Channel 3 and Route 1 & 9), I feel duty-bound to give the nod to a song that does—if, of course, the song is worthy. In this case it is. You say you’re a Lucinda Williams fan? Me too. I love “Six Blocks Away.” I have it on vinyl. And yes, I do realize that the Lovin’ Spoonful, who gave the world “Summer and the City” and other dreamy hits, had a lovely song called “Six O’Clock” that was the aural equivalent of twilight. And look, I dig Burl Ives as much as the next guy, but “Six Little Ducks” just doesn’t belong on this list. So, for symmetry’s sake, and because it’s an audacious start to classic platter, let’s go with Liz Phair. Besides, she and Iggy’s amusement-hall worker make a beautiful couple.
Echo & the Bunnymen - "Seven Seas"
Seven is a conundrum. My allegiances have switched in the most mercenary way. One day I’m a “Seven Seas” man, the next I’m trippin’ on Love’s chaotic “7 and 7 Is.” I had to dock Love some points for avoiding the subject of “7” entirely, while duly acknowledging its scene-stealing bravura in Bottle Rocket. And suddenly the door breaks down, it’s the “Seven Deadly Finns” (a once-rare track by Brian Eno, with him at his most glam and lighthearted). Bob Dylan’s “Seven Days,” is a lean, lonesome treat (which Ron Wood covered on his really quite good 1979 “solo” album, Gimme Some Neck). I won’t say I seriously considered “7 Seconds” by Youssou N’Dour, but “Tram #7 to Heaven” by Jens Lekman is disarming in the extreme. Queen’s “Seven Seas of Rhye” is an amazing reminder of how this band had a lot more to do with the birth of Metallica than most people realize. (Queen fans, take heart: Freddie & Co. are a shoo-in for 39.) And then there is the cult classic “7 Screaming Dizbusters” (if by cult you mean Blue Oyster with an umlaut), from the seminal Tyranny & Mutation LP. And finally, scraping in at the end, I have to mention the execrable “Heaven on the Seventh Floor” (from 1977, all you numerology buffs) only because it’s so bad it’s bad, and that maybe by mentioning it, I will never again accidentally hum it, as I am now doing. In the end, while lauding Mr. Eno for the song’s final segment, which incorporates a yodeling chorus better than any song in the rock canon (with the possible exception of “Hocus Pocus” by Focus), I had to side with the Bunnymen and the sublime “Seven Seas.” It’s from Ocean Rain, their finest, most fully realized record; it’s surpassingly beautiful, and finally, when faced with a choice between knowing and heartfelt, I’ll choose heartfelt every time. Eno’s winking; Ian McCulloch’s heart is on his (Edwardian) sleeve.
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. It looks easy now, but there are rough times ahead.
Posted by Jeff Klingman at April 13, 2007 08:20 AM
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Comments
Echo and the Bunnymen...boy does that take me back to the past....
Posted by: Kelli Douglas at April 13, 2007 12:06 PM
oh yesssssssss...takes me back also, to the night little lurker moi (under age drunk) hanging out backstage at some club in LA sporting my trendy new-wave look (semi-mullet (everybody had them, ok?) big shoulders, flouncy mini skirt and high-heeled short boots. Think Pat Benatar or Go-Go's and you'll get the drift.) Being sooo nervous, talking to Ian M, all I could say was "fantastic!", like so many times it was a joke while clutching my freshly autographed copy of The Killing Moon. what an idiot. Cringing upon remembrance.
Posted by: ms lurker at April 13, 2007 01:17 PM
Ahhh. Haven't thought of or subvocalized/yodeled to 7 Deadly Finns since those halcyon days of....a very long time ago. Thanks.
Once again, your taste is impeccable, your sense of humour scintillating, your writing style insouciant...and you managed to give me a little frisson of...well, you know, it rhymes with "blatancy".
My memory of Ian M tops Kelli's. Driving to Glastonbury Festival in Julian Cope's tour bus in 1988, we stopped at a little rest-stop...where a few other buses were parked. Inside, MAC (or in Scouse "Maccchhhhh" was, for some reason, holding court. I shook hands, blathered and blithered at him for a moment...walked back to Copey's bus where he shook his head sadly and said "What a cunt."
GOOD TIMES!
Posted by: jonny at April 13, 2007 03:08 PM
You know, it's sort of a shame that the most memorable lyrical use of this number sequence ever, the "If Man is 5..." part in the Pixies "Monkey Gone to Heaven" doesn't fit any logical criteria for inclusion.
Posted by: Jeff K at April 13, 2007 05:24 PM
It's true--that is a fine and utterly numerical run old Black Francis goes on. Would that we could honor it. The Pixies have a big moment coming up, at no. 13 (baby). But they have some exceedingly tough competition from a man for whom children by the million sing.
Posted by: david at April 14, 2007 08:57 AM
Dear White Stripes fans, Please accept the following New York Times-style correction: "An article that ran last week gave an incomplete listing of the best songs with "7" in their title. "Seven Nation Army" by White Stripes certainly belongs on this list. The Times regrets the error.
Posted by: david at April 19, 2007 10:13 AM
You know, that one slipped my mind too, for some reason. It would probably be my number 2 number 7 song. Best song Jack white ever wrote, for sure.
Posted by: Jeff K at April 19, 2007 11:11 AM
Most famous non-bassline of recent memory.
Posted by: Sebastian at April 19, 2007 12:25 PM
