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November 02, 2007
Numerology: Thirty-Three's Company
In the ‘60s and ‘70s, rock & roll’s heart used to beat at a rate of 33 1/3 revolutions per minute. Yet I am hard-pressed to proffer more than a smattering of candidates for the #33 crown. And the immediate numerical weather forecast calls for continued lack of a bountiful harvest. But take heart: I see it this way: we are skipping across a very wide pond. There are fewer rocks out here than closer to shore, but we have no choice but to keep leaping from rock to rock, confident that we will get to the other side without having to land on any shitty rocks or falling in. I have an abiding belief that a quality rock exists for every number in this pond and that we are going to land on them. (And to think that a mere few columns ago I swore to give up metaphors altogether.)
George Harrison called his 1976 solo record 33 & 1/3 to coincide with his current age, as well as for its vinyl implications. Sadly for this column, there was no title track, but I will confess to a lifelong appreciation of a tuneful bit of fluff called “Crackerbox Palace” from that record, probably because it reminds me of being young and stupid. It seems necessary to acknowledge the power triumvirate of Larry Bird, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Patrick Ewing, great players who, at a collective height of 21’ 2”—all wore No. 33.
One of the highlights of the ‘90s for me was having Spin magazine print my letter in praise of James Iha of the Smashing Pumpkins. But my passion for the band dimmed significantly after I saw them live and had to endure one of Billy Corgan’s anti-crowd rants. My enthusiasm waned further with the overblown Mellon Collie & the Infinite Sadness. As anyone familiar with reading music criticism in the bathroom will tell you, most double albums are better off as killer one-disc releases, but try telling that to a simpering genius like Billy Corgan and he might spit at you. Regardless, nobody preferred the second disc of Melon Collie (Twilight to Starlight) to the first disc (Dawn to Dusk). As often happens with double sets, Corgan & Co. led with their best (and there is still plenty of detritus on disc one.) Why, if not for “1979,” you could probably just use disc two as a coaster and not miss anything essential. “Thirty Three, ” (track three, disc two) is a limpid, weepy thing, which finds Billy magnanimously singing, “I forgive everyone” before returning swiftly to martyr mode, proclaiming that the earth laughs at “the blasphemy in my jangly walk.” I suppose he’s saying it’s blasphemy to have a spring in your step at the decrepit age of 33, but hey, the earth doesn’t know you’ve got Fables of the Reconstruction playing in your headphones; it just knows you have a jangly walk and, to the earth, that’s very funny.
Like most of the New Zealand indie scene of the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, the Verlaines never got their due in the U.S. And unlike the Chills and the Clean, the Verlaines weren’t a good live act—the arrangements were just too baroque to pull off. Two Verlaines songs appeared on a 1993 compilation called No Alternative, a set of B-sides and rarities from Nirvana, Smashing Pumpkins, Matthew Sweet and others (along with a truly awful Stones cover from the Goo Goo Dolls): “Heavy 33” and a fine cover of “Joed Out” by indie chanteuse Barbara Manning (lead singer of 28th Day, winner of this column’s #25 spot). From the unresolved opening chords, “Heavy 33” finds the Verlaines in pensive territory, with Graeme Downes sounding like he’s singing from the ledge of a tall building. By the end, what began as a dirge has gained force and strength, the despair turning into a sense of sullen resolve. Too bad the group never released anything this good again.
Not many people have covered Stereolab songs. Perhaps it’s that too much is distinct about the group’s sound and the interplay of the two vocalists, and the overall tonalities just don’t seem to lend themselves to easy reinterpretation or reenactment. Enter Iron & Wine, aka Samuel Beam, whose fuzzy acoustic style seems to render everything he touches into an Iron & Wine song. His cover of Stereolab’s “Peng! 33” succeeds in doing just that. I didn’t think it was possible to hear a Stereolab song and not think of the voices of Laetitia Sadier and Mary Hansen, but somehow, in a feat of musical alchemy Mr. Beam has excised the Can and inserted the campfire. Perhaps he was drawn to the simplicity of the words, which manage to sound less like Marxist platitudes and more like straightforward expressions of optimism:
Curiosity was far greater than our fear. It felt so simple and so prodigious at the same time.Incredible things are happening in the world. Magical things are happening in this world.
Across the river there are all kinds of magical instruments. While really we keep living like monkeys.
Incredible things are happening in this world. Magical things are happening in this world.
We can be grateful to Stereolab for introducing a slew of previously uncool styles into the indie pop mix, and for singing words like this and getting away with it. Their enchanting singsong was a siren’s call. Imagine how cloying and precious these words would sound coming from the mouth of someone like Bjork. Fortunately, Sam Beam’s beatific whisper proves itself an alluring mode of transport for them.
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. It's starting to get a bit tricky.
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, 23, 24, 25, 26/27, 28 , 29 , 30, 30 (counterpoint), 31, 32
Posted by David Klein at November 2, 2007 08:45 AM
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Comments
I think that Bird/Dr J slash fiction poster is from a video game? How boring would that game be, and despite his skills, wouldn't Dr. J just keep dunking on him? Also, why is it so erotic, uh, I mean, homoerotic?
As to the songs, why do you think Iron & Wine's works better? I mean I agree, I just can't put my finger on it. Perceived sincerity?
Posted by: Jeff K at November 2, 2007 12:31 PM
i love symbolism in numbers ;) used to love that *no alternative* lil compilation, great!
Posted by: musicisart at November 2, 2007 01:14 PM
I think whenever you have a ripped, shirtless man in tiny red shorts--hands on hips with his crotch pushed ever so slightly forward--pictured with another man...any other man, it's going to come off as a bit homoerotic. And if the other man is Larry Bird, squatting on a basketball, it's off the charts.
As for your perception that I gave the nod to the Iron & Wine version, that was not what I meant. Stereolab's song is definitive; it just seemed more logical to list the original and the cover in that order. To my mind, the cover is as good as the original, in the sense that a really good apple is as good as a really good orange, but it's not better. Better is Hendrix's "All Along the Watchtower."
Posted by: david at November 2, 2007 01:21 PM
So Stereolab is our official winner?
Posted by: Jeff K at November 2, 2007 01:39 PM
That is correct. Do you have a counterpoint you'd like to share with the rest of the class?
Posted by: david at November 2, 2007 02:10 PM
I mean, I think I like the Iron & Wine cover a little bit better, but not enough to mandate a rant...
Posted by: Jeff K at November 2, 2007 02:12 PM
Nearly every sports fans knows that in a game in 1984, Dr. J sucker-punched Bird something fierce (with Barkley holding Bird's arms back, not that I think Larry would have put up much of a fight). But the reason Dr. J threw is even funnier than the fight itself.
To put it lightly, Bird was talking shit the whole game, constantly reminding Julius how much he was being outscored by. Right before the punch, Bird allegedly told Erving, "42-6, Doc."
Now, I can understand Erving's frustration, but when you're being outscored by 36 points, I don't think you've got much of an argument on your behalf other than to fight.
Posted by: Randall Monty at November 10, 2007 07:24 PM
But then they got together and made sweet short shorts love...
Posted by: Jeff K at November 10, 2007 07:48 PM
Randy, I was thinking you were going pretty far afield there, but that "42-6" line has to rank as the finest numerological insult ever.
Posted by: david at November 12, 2007 10:26 AM
