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July 12, 2007
Numerology: 23 Skidoo
by David Klein
Our winner today actually took me by surprise, but as you will see, it is all too fitting that strange things are afoot now that we’ve reached 23. As I did my usual extensive research for my weekly installment of numero-musical obsession, I was pretty much figuring out the best way to declare that nothing could possibly beat the Brothers Johnson’s version of “Strawberry Letter #23,” in thousand words or less. But in my attempt to be thorough I have stumbled into dark territory. I know that you out there, dear reader, knew all about the 23 Enigma (the belief that all events are connected by the number, 23, a phenomenon that William Burroughs famously espoused, and which is also the basis for that creepy-looking Jim Carrey vehicle) and were well aware that 23 is also the number of the Illuminati, the secret cabal that conspiracy theorists believe controls world events. Because you, dear reader, secretly control world events, don’t you? I knew it. I can hear you through my fillings. In any case, what really struck me as bizarre is that I turned up a major treatise on the number, freshly written, no less, the kind of numerological piece yours truly would hope to write if my sole interest was in numbers.
It’s chockfull of info like, “The 23rd letter of the alphabet is W, a letter whose shape suggests two horns pointing down and three points up, like the devil-horns hand-sign thrown up at rock concerts. On the typewriter keyboard, W lies directly below the two and three.” And it struck me as undeniable that the summer, nay, the very age of 23 is upon us.
Lest we forget, there’s also a very fine psalm numbered 23, but maybe it too is part of a dire conspiracy. Representing the excelsior at the bottom of the 23 sonic gift basket are Numerology’s pet whipping boys, Jimmy Eat World, along with newcomers with the soccer-derived yet still-suspect moniker of Yellowcard, both of whom have songs called “Twenty Three” that channel youthful angst via fiercely strummed guitars and imperfect couplets. Four Tet, a side project of Kieran Hebden of Fridge (a band whose catalog is well worth investigating) employs his preferred aural grab-bag approach on “Twenty Three” from 2001’s Rounds, but the number seems arbitrary.
On the other hand, Luna’s languid “23 Hours in Brussels” stretches out in the manner of the passage of time, as extended vamps tend to do. It opens with a seeming allusion to “Proud Mary” (“Left my hotel in the city”) and traipses ahead at a walking pace. With Tom Verlaine adding his signature squalls and squiggles, the song has a surfeit of laid-back, urban cool, and belongs on any serious compendium of great songs about cities of the world.
The title track to Blonde Redhead’s 23, one of my favorite releases of the year, has a strong, insistent melody and a na-na-na chorus set against slaloming Loveless guitars. Like the other songs sung by Kazu Makino, “23” echoes the ethereal vocals of Miki Berenyi of ‘90s 4AD band Lush. And lyrics like these, which would bring a smile to William Burroughs, show that this song is very much about the phenomenon of 23:
23 seconds, all things we love will die23 magic, if you can change your life
Sounding a similar sonic note of ethereality mixed with a touch of creepy is “23 Lies” by Death in Vegas. These two would go well on a mixtape created by the dead twins in The Shining.
But sometimes a song so owns a number that even a majestic, exhilarating, numerically named newcomer like Blonde Redhead’s “23” seems destined to come in a close second. “Strawberry Letter #23” by the Brothers Johnson has always struck me as the ultimate 23 experience.
the Brothers Johnson - "Strawberry Letter 23"
Let’s be clear: the Bros. did not do all that much to the original. It’s not on the level of what Hendrix did with “All Along the Watchtower.” They stick pretty close to the original: the melody, that nifty little insinuating hook that starts the song, the spacey, Steve Miller-ish interlude—all there in Shuggie Otis’s original version (only Shuggie uses a glockenspiel). But the Quincy Jones-produced SL23 is the one that everybody knows, it’s the one I always grooved to and which never failed to get a response from people on my living room dance floor back in the day, and, moreover, it benefits from Jones’s production and vision. The vocal melody has been sculpted into shape, and the background vocals add exquisite color in the remake. It also has a deep and timeless groove that somehow penetrated my skull at a time when I still listened to a great deal of Jethro Tull.
But wait. Just…wait. The lyrics to “Strawberry Letter #23” never say 23. What they say, twice, is “twenty two.” Is that supposed to be mystical? Additionally, whether it’s 22 or 23, the number is essentially arbitrary. This calls everything into question. The rules state that if a truly good song sings the number in question, it is more worthy than a truly good song that doesn’t. I know it’s unprecedented, but I’m going to have to surprise myself and give it to Blonde Redhead, for succeeding on every level, with a cool, memorable song that is very much about a numerical phenomenon, with a simple numerical title and with the number sung aloud. With apologies to George “Lightnin’ Licks” Johnson and Louis “Thunder Thumbs” Johnson, I give you:
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. The plague of self absorbed twenty-something songwriters should see him through for now, but there are rough times ahead.
Previously: No. 1, 2-4, 5-7, 7 (counterpoint), 8, 9, 10/11, 12/13. 13 (counterpoint), 14/15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22
Posted by Jeff Klingman at July 12, 2007 02:45 PM
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Comments
Where was the Blonde Redhead love during "10" Klein?
Also, kudos for avoiding your desire to have clever segways (11:59-12:51, etc) by not following "22 Hours of Darkness" with "23 Hours in Brussels."
Posted by: Jeff K at July 12, 2007 04:02 PM
I'm glad you appreciate my powers of restraint because the fact is, I could have gone on a really annoying tangent by choosing "24 Hours From Tulsa" by Gene Pitney for the next slot, but I realize that could result in a fatal loss of credibility. It's pretty funny: the teens are full of songs about birthdays, the 20s are full of hours...
Posted by: Anonymous at July 13, 2007 09:01 AM
I was born on the 23rd... it all makes sense now.
Max
Posted by: Max at July 13, 2007 11:33 AM
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