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January 24, 2008
Numerology: Stepping Up 39
The Thirty-Nine Steps is an organization of spies, collecting information on behalf of the foreign office of...
[Before the author of this column was able to complete the sentence above, the nefarious organization that controls human events thwarted his efforts. I have uncovered his notes, and done my best to transcribe them accurately. It doesn’t really matter who I am. Just consider me an emissary of some kind.]
I was searching for inspiration in Herman Melton’s Thirty-Nine Lashes—Well Laid On: Crime and Punishment in Southside Virginia 1750-1950, but found it completely devoid of references to songs with 39 in their titles. Next, no doubt more sensibly, I consulted my well-thumbed Penguin Dictionary of Curious and Interesting Numbers, which stated in no uncertain terms that 39 is a mathematically uninteresting number. But these portents came to naught, I’m happy to report, for musically speaking, 39 is surprisingly fertile, with an undisputable winning song that has all sorts of numerical juju floating overhead, and a handful of interesting contenders and also-rans to boot. The climb through the 30s has not been without its perils, but at 39 I feel I have reached base camp.
Getting old makes strange bedfellows. Both the Cure and Jerry Lee Lewis sang songs about characters at the age of 39 who are desperately trying to keep the candle burning. Leave it to the Cure to come through with a dark, pained opus, cranking up the guitars and vocal angst against a massive sonic backdrop, to fine effect. If not for our winner, the Cure might have given us a Bummer Trifecta—a run of three dark and depressing winners in a row. As for the Killer, I may risk sounding a note of stodgy traditionalism, but I dig Jerry Lee when he is pounding away on the piano much more than when he’s tickling the ivories and crooning in laid-back country style, as he is on this one. Similarly laid-back is the brief “Raid on Bush Creek in ’39,” from the debut record by unsung trad rockers known as Goose Creek Symphony, which doesn’t hint at why this prolific Kentucky outfit earned comparisons to the Band.
If twee pop is your thing, check out “X39” by the Bristol-based outfit known as the Casswells: it’s the sound of people in elbow-patched cardigans, threadbare T’s and diaphanous pajama bottoms, strumming guitars. If you’re making a party tape on the theme of 39, think twice about following the Casswells with Sacramento’s Killing the Dream, whose “39th and Glisan” will dampen the mood just as sure as shootin’. But if you’re more the type whose parties generally end up with hordes of shirtless nomads beating their chests around a stack of burning tires, Karma to Burn’s “Thirty-Nine” might be just the thing.
Not long ago I went on at length about 36 being the number at which songwriters officially address women’s measurements. Indeed, titles like “36-24-36” abound; but I have now learned that some folks envision a slightly different golden mean, like Jimmy Jones, a smooth soul R&B singer whose biggest hit, “Handyman,” was turned into porridge by the honey-voiced James Taylor in 1977. “39-21-40 Shape” wasn’t a hit for Jones, but it serves as conclusive sonic evidence of a man who knows what he likes.
The always confounding Aesop Rock comes back to haunt me with another massive armload of beats, samples, and syllables. The atmosphere of “39 Thieves” is menacing and the beat is dark and slippery, and I have no idea what it’s about. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have to know what a song is about to enjoy it, but somehow when the thing I don’t get is a rap, I feel like I’m missing the whole point.
I have lived my entire life without any knowledge of the existence of Spock’s Beard, whose sixth album, Snow, is a neo-Christian parable about an albino psychic with a messianic following. [Cue Chris Farley’s interview w/ the Beard: “’Member that time you did that, um, album, about that albino psychic…with the…uh, messianic following, and um, but the guy dies but he achieves peace through his connection with God? Y’member that? That was awesome.”] “The 39th Street Blues (I’m Sick)” is more pop-metal than prog, like King’s X grafted onto Lamb Lies Down on Broadway-era Genesis, yet its coda sounds eerily “V-2 Schneider”-ly.
Spock's Beard - "The 39th Street Blues (I'm Sick)"
Ever since believing an interview in Circus magazine in which Freddie Mercury of Queen proclaimed that the band had chosen the name Queen “for its regal connotations,” I have always been taken in by them. They had oh so many tricks up their sleeve. Perhaps only Led Zeppelin rivals Queen in the sheer scope of aural territory covered. Although by the end of their career, Queen seemed to be letting the inherent bombast and theatricality of the enterprise take over, the first half dozen records are crammed with a great deal of inventive and utterly distinctive music. Although the debut album will always remain closest to my heart, thanks to a well-worn vinyl copy bequeathed to me my older brother, I do recognize that A Night at the Opera is Queen’s landmark album, boasting “Bohemian Rhapsody” “You’re My Best Friend,” “Death on Two Legs” and the ultimate 39 song in the universe by a long shot, “’39.”
Hearing “‘39” still feels like the breath of fresh air that it was in the era of Boston, Kiss, and Zep, cutting through the muddle with the sweet sound of acoustic guitar, vocal harmonies straight out of Oz, and eloquent, timeless sounding lyrics. Certainly the world “grandchildren” has never been more eloquently uttered in the context of a rock song before or since.
Questions abound: Why is it called “’39”? When you tick off the sequence of songs on Queen’s first five albums in order, you’ll find that “’39” shakes out to be the 39th song of the band’s recording career. That’s a first, I think. And it’s notable for being sung not by Freddie Mercury but by its composer, Brian May, now a certified rocket scientist and—this can’t be completely random—ranked No. 39 on the Rolling Stone list of 100 Greatest Guitarists. But what’s it all about? May says he was tapping into a sci-fi motif—the man who comes back from space travel having aged a year, to find a hundred years have passed—and relating it to his own sense of estrangement from his own home after returning as rock royalty. Somehow the result sounds has such a pure rustic sound it feels as if it could have been written in the sixteenth century. May delivers a memorable vocal in a plangent, earnest voice—backed by a chorus of flanged-out Mercury (as well as drummer Roger Taylor, who occasionally chimes in with an uncanny impersonation of a theremin.) Although Mercury gets proper credit for his singular vocals, May has a much better voice than a guitarist of his caliber needs to have, and its quiet strength helps seal the deal on this classic song. The Pacific Ocean performed a sweet cover of “’39” on So Beautiful and Cheap and Warm (2002), but it’s hard to top the ethereal beauty of the original.
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, 37, 38
Posted by David Klein at January 24, 2008 01:00 PM
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Comments
OK, that Jimmy Jones song is pretty good...
Posted by: Jeff K at January 24, 2008 05:33 PM
Worth a buck, huh? Perhaps a belated posting, once your, er, supply is replenished?
Posted by: david at January 25, 2008 07:15 AM
I like how cryptic that is...
Posted by: Jeff K at January 25, 2008 12:13 PM
Not as cryptic as this: Any word from our friend? About the thing?
Posted by: david at January 25, 2008 12:53 PM
Just heard your voicemail which came in at 1:39pm (ai caramba!) the other day....lotsa static on the line but I think I heard something about a "sweet, sweet commentlich"" (German reference? 39 Steps?)
Yes, I too believed that Queen was a great name for a band with such "regality". I also know that I used to wear the very outfit of "elbow-patched cardigans, threadbare T’s and diaphanous pajama bottoms" you refer to...although with a smoking jacket on top to complete the ensemble. This was not "twee", this was a statement.
On a more serious note, "Keep Yourself Alive" still boasts one of the more compelling anthems for touchus, hurtus, or Hickeyus yet released.
Posted by: queerusjohnson at January 28, 2008 01:01 PM
