« Interview: Romy Hoffman, MC, Macromantics | Main | Individual lists: BEST ALBUMS OF 2007, DAVID KLEIN »
December 21, 2007
Numerology: Number 37? Have a Look...
No less of a heavy than Lewis A. Reed tells us that 37 is a piss-poor excuse of a number. That’s how I interpret his line in “Femme Fatale”: “You’re written in her book/You’re number 37 have a look.” Guy could have picked any other number to signify utter ignominy, but he chose 37. And indeed, it does have the uncanny ring of the end of the line.
With Lou’s damning assessment in mind, I guess I should feel relief for the existence of a viable 37 song, by a major figure, from a major record. It’s a bit of a downer—and with a few exceptions (Charley Patton’s “34 Blues,” PIL’s dour “Radio 4,” and the council-flat ennui of Television Personalities’ “14th Floor”) this list has eschewed songs that inspire suicidal thoughts. But our winner this week has me contemplating man’s inhumanity to man, at a time of year when I much prefer to be admiring the lighted snowflakes bedecking the lampposts along Delancey Street.
In 1961, the social psychologist Stanley Milgram attempted to fathom the repeated assertion of the Nazis on trial in Nuremburg that they were just following orders. Milgram devised an experiment to determine just what the average person was capable of doing when reassured by a man in a white lab coat that the act was perfectly acceptable and appropriate. Volunteers who were assigned the role of “teacher” were told to administer electrical shocks of increasing voltage to the “learners” in the experiment when they made an error on a test involving word pairs. Despite the sound of screams, and even though they knew it was wrong, 65 percent of the volunteers complied with the official-looking people conducting the tests, and continued to deliver punishment.
Peter Gabriel has always been drawn to dark subjects. His solo records have included songs from the point of view of an assassin, a housebreaker, an amnesiac, and a mental patient, along with elegies about Stephen Biko and the poet Anne Sexton. “Sledgehammer”—the song that put him over in the U.S. chiefly through a swaggering horn line and an innovative use of Claymation—was out of character for him. “We Do What We’re Told (Milgram’s 37)” with its ominous drumbeat and slowly uncoiling atmosphere, is prime Gabriel territory. Lyrically, through, it’s atypically concise, which is surprising coming from a man who once filled up album-length suites with tales of giant hogweeds and astral travelers. I’ll never understand how a song about a subject he was so passionate about became a haiku. “We do what we’re told” is repeated six times, followed by “One doubt/one voice/one war/one truth/one dream.” Certainly minimal is one way to go, but I can’t help thinking that if “WDWWT(M37)” had some of the lyrical detail of “Biko,” the result would have been a stunning. Oh, and if you’re wondering what the 37 refers to, it’s the number of volunteers who were willing to give the maximum voltage. These 37 (from a group of 40) were willing to authorize the maximum punishment because in this arrangement, the actual punishment was meted out by a third party, enabling the punisher to keep a safe distance.
Peter Gabriel - “We Do What We’re Told (Milgram’s 37)”
Despite some reservations, I’m going with Gabriel over the competition because of his ingenious use of 37, the song’s spooky majesty, and its overall place in the rock firmament. Also, it figures prominently in a “Miami Vice” episode. (Ricardo Tubbs portrayer Phillip Michael Thomas was apparently such a Gabriel fan that he reportedly played “In Your Eyes” at his 1989 wedding to Kassandra Green, including a reenactment of the famous Cusack-ian boombox scene, complete with real rain.)
On a far less disturbing note, let me introduce you to the rest of the “37” Club. I was hoping for better things from Game Theory, winners of the 24 crown. At one point in my life, GT’s skewed, psychedelically tinged power pop fulfilled many of most deep-seated needs, but “37th Day” is one of the bass player’s songs, and one of the few not written and sung by bandleader Scott Miller. Miller freely admitted the limitations of his own vocal instrument, so logic would dictate that the bass player in such a band would simply have to have a worse voice than the lead singer, right? Right. Striking a more traditional power pop note, in a more forthright voice, is “Love Song #37” by Ann Arbor’s own Maypops.
The ramshackle “37 Pushups” by Smog grows on you, like bracken, with its scrape-y violins and the beleaguered-sounding Bill Callahan singing bleakly humorous lines: “I feel like Travis Bickle/listening to Highway to Hell/It’s a shitty little tape I taped off the radio…37 pushups/in a winter-rates seaside motel.” Similarly bleak yet lacking humor, are “37 Hours” by former Throwing Muse Kristin Hersh (sample lyric: “I dropped a cigarette in my shoe and dove in the water”), and “Number Thirty-Seven” by Odes, from their lone release on Merge Records.
The strange cocktail that is “Black 37” by Mr. Nogatco (aka Kool Keith) is distinctive indeed, with cheesy sci fi-movie dialogue segueing abruptly into heavy-metal crunch chords and a lusty, impressionistic rap (“Her bra’s made o’ mink/her panties fur is a bear/My eye contact is everything I touch/I wanna lick her hair.”) Kool Keith would probably dig La Polla, a punk band from the Basque Country whose fractious career spanned three decades. This is not meant as a dis, but “Tumba 37” from Toda La Puta Vida Igual (1999) is exactly how Green Day would sound dubbed into Spanish. Cleveland-area electronic music maven Jon Sonnenberg gives us the moody, blipped-out “Channel 37,” and finally, “Size 37” is by a band called Granger that I can find next to nothing about (surprising in this day and age). The band’s sole release, Underwater Hum, was released by Shanachie, one of the world’s largest independent labels, which is known for just about every other genre but indie rock. But that’s what this is, and it’s surprisingly tuneful, with touches of New Pornographer-type harmonies and a comforting jangle, yet not quite audacious enough to knock down a heavyweight.
So world, here’s your number 37. Have a look.
Please continue.
The experiment requires that you continue.
It is absolutely essential that you continue.
You have no other choice. You must go on.
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, 33, 34, 35, 36
Posted by David Klein at December 21, 2007 12:50 AM
Trackback Pings
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.merryswankster.com/movabletype/mt-tb.cgi/1355
Comments
All that's missing is the analogy of continuing with electroshock treatment and continuing with the numerology posts.
Posted by: Randall Monty at December 21, 2007 09:37 AM
Whenever I feel like giving up, I just look at the four directives listed above, and then I continue. But 38 is really gonna be a bitch. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUGH!!! Ok, ok, I'll do it. (sheesh)
Posted by: david at December 21, 2007 09:52 AM
I thought the bass player from Game Theory was Danette somethingorother...who I met about 20 years ago in L.A. We ended up doing Irish Car Bombs until the not-so-wee hours and the evening ended up with us re-enacting the Milgram experiment for twisted kicks. I "won"!
Posted by: queerusjohnson at December 25, 2007 12:01 AM
Donette Thayer joined the band in its later and better-known incarnation--the other guy was with them at the beginning, for Dead Center and Blaze of Glory, both basically home recorded. I'm sure Donette was more fun to do Irish Car Bombs with, but she was a pretty lousy vocalist as well. I can only imagine how you managed to reenact the Milgram experiments with only two people, but knowing you, I'm sure you found a way (you sicko).
Posted by: david at December 25, 2007 12:45 PM
I just realized that Throwing Muses' Kristin Hersh had a song called "37 Hours" that's about silkworms humping. Seems notable...
Posted by: Jeff K at April 3, 2008 02:43 PM
It's in there, bro--I had it as a Kristen Hersh solo piece:
And i quote: "Similarly bleak yet lacking humor, are “37 Hours” by former Throwing Muse Kristin Hersh (sample lyric: “I dropped a cigarette in my shoe and dove in the water”), and “Number Thirty-Seven” by Odes, from their lone release on Merge Records."
Posted by: david at April 3, 2008 04:46 PM
I never learned how to read!
Posted by: Jeff K at April 4, 2008 04:39 PM
