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June 18, 2008
Numerology: Aria 51
The top-secret military testing ground in the Nevada desert known as Area 51 holds a place in the collective imagination as a hotbed of extraterrestrial life. Will Smith ends up at the site—which the government only admitted existed in 2003—after crash-landing in Independence Day, and the scores of songs with “Area 51” in their titles attest to the site’s enduring inspirational qualities. The post-Gram Parsons Flying Burrito Brothers, the Charlatans UK, Yngwie Malmsteen, and Graham Parker have all mined Area 51 for subject matter, and so have lesser-known acts like Paddle Cell (purveyors of Teutonic psychobilly) and stalwart Portland thrash-mongers (no, not trailblazers) Dead Moon.
“Dick Butkus #51” is Dillinger Four’s ode to the legendary Chicago Bears defensive end who once said, “When I played pro football, I never set out to hurt anyone deliberately—unless it was, you know, important, like a league game or something.” “51%” is a dreamy morsel of muted optimism from Mark Sandman, the leader, singer, and sax player of Morphine, who died after collapsing onstage during a performance in Rome in 1999. Sandman’s husky whisper—somewhere between Mark Lanegan and Iron & Wine’s Sam Beam—rides on a cool stream of sax, two-string bass, and plucked slide guitar, and the sound is plain gorgeous. The title track of 51 Phantom by the North Mississippi All-Stars has a swampy flavor that sounds right at home next to the Sandman’s heavenly drone.
Twenty of the 50 states have a Highway 51, so a mess of Highway 51 songs is to be expected. On his 1962 debut record, called simply Bob Dylan, the toast of Hibbing, Minnesota covered “Highway 51 Blues” by Curtis Jones, in the urgent Woody Guthrie style that marked his early work. The Jones version makes clear that the highway in question is U.S. 51, which runs from Wisconsin to New Orleans, but John Lee Hooker doesn’t pay much mind to the road on “Goin’ On Highway 51”—he’s too busy lamenting the recently departed Miss Fannie Mae, who wouldn’t even shake his hand when she left. All she said was, “Someday I will meet you when you’re troubles are like mine.” Now that’s a good highway song.
“Come in Number 51, Your Time is Up,” is Pink Floyd’s rewrite of “Careful With That Axe, Eugene,” a slow-building freak-out that went through several incarnations before a monster live version ended up on the band’s half-live, half studio Ummagumma (1971). Lacking the original song’s whispered warning to Eugene, and in a different key, “Come in Number 51” served as the background music for the incendiary denouement of Zabriskie Point (1970). This attempt by Michelangelo Antonioni (fresh from his acclaimed Blow-Up) to create the definitive ‘60s counterculture movie kept audiences away in droves, but in its favor, the movie boasted trippy incidental music by Jerry Garcia, an uncredited Harrison Ford as a student agitator, and a tagline that sounds like it was coined by Matthew McConaughey’s character in Dazed and Confused: “Zabriskie Point. How you get there depends on where you’re at.” (Not to mention a notorious orgy scene, set in Death Valley.)
Zabriskie Point (trailer)
I bet even Aimee Mann, whom reviewers never fail to describe as “acerbic,” would appreciate the irony of seguing from “Fifty Years After the Fair”—one of the bounciest things in her oeuvre—to the lethal comedown of “High on Sunday 51.” In the former song, she proclaims, “We’ll get it right, I swear” while “Sunday” takes the grim view of mankind that is Ms. Mann’s most common mode of expression. Just as Elvis Costello is apt to depict relationships in military terms, Ms. Mann has a preferred metaphor: namely, addiction. In a few strokes, the refrain of “High on Sunday 51” conjures the fool’s bargain made by the enabler: “Hate the sinner but love the sin/Let me be your heroine.”
Aimee Mann - "High on Sunday 51"
The following modern locution, which I spotted in a recent New York Times Sunday supplement, has yet to find its way into a song, but I bet the Flight of the Conchords would do justice to it:
Fifteen/fifty-one – adj. ‘a numerical neologism used to describe the optical illusion created by “cool mom” 50-something women who resemble their teenage daughters from behind, but from the front look like members of the First Wives Club, e.g., ‘from a distance she looks like jailbait but up close she’s a cougar—it’s beyond fifteen/fifty-one.’
Like earbuds and celebrity chefs, the 15-51 phenomenon is a thoroughly modern development. Just ask Merle Haggard, whose “The Way it Was in ‘51” sings the praises of an era when Truman was still president, the jukeboxes were crowded with Hank Williams and Lefty Frizzell, and rock ‘n’ roll had yet to be invented. (And obviously, long before women were routinely confused with their daughters from behind.) A few final 51-related things kicking around: the brief, feedback-only “Orgo 51” by the Descendants and “51-7” by Camper Van Beethoven, who have sounded better,
Since the Strokes already picked up the 12 trophy for “12:51,” the 51 contest comes down to a matchup similar to one we’ve recently encountered: a decent song by an iconic act vs. one of the best by a lesser act. In the 48 contest, it was the Clash over the Crash (Suzi Quatro’s “48 Crash,” to be exact). This time, Goliath falls.
Jimi Hendrix - "51st Anniversary"
The big gun here is a once-obscure Jimi Hendrix song called “51st Anniversary.” Reissued on the 1994 CD rerelease of his monumental Are You Experienced (1967), the song was the B-side of the “Hey Joe” single and did not make it onto the UK or American album versions of the record. And I have to say, it’s not hard to see why this was slapped on the back of a single and forgotten about; it just isn’t that good. In fact, it has about as little going for it as any Hendrix song I can think of. The chord progression feels pedestrian, the lyrics have first-draft written all over them, even the spoken-word section sounds like something Jimi did a lot better on “If Six Was Nine.” I’ve played the song a few times and it just hasn’t taken hold. No, it’s not terrible, but compared to the rest of Hendrix’s audacious debut, it’s really weak. Most people hold Hendrix up as key figure in rock, and I’m squarely in that camp, but the idea of this list is not to confer lifetime achievement awards; each song has to stand up tall and be the best, and “51st Anniversary” just doesn’t cut it.
I was lucky enough to have an older brother who didn’t believe in buying an album or two at a time; he saved up and bought them in stacks. The Ghost of Cain (1986) by New Model Army came from one of Jonny’s stacks. After playing me “51st State,” (already a hit in the band’s native Britain), he must have caught something in my crazed eyes that told him he would never love this record as much his brother already did, and so he gave it to me. I still cherish the LP, even though now it brings a snicker and not even a shred of awe to see those three men on the back cover, pictured under ominous skies, glowering in black-and-white. The middle one—the one with the most scornful expression —went by the nom du rock Slade the Leveller. That made a big impression on me. What a guy in his 20s could dig about New Model Army (named after Cromwell’s antiroyalist militia) isn’t hard to determine: the music was dark, precise, unforgiving—and catchy. They traded in politically charged anthems with lyrics as much spat-out as sung, and their lack of a sense of humor was not something I viewed as detrimental.
“51st State” (actually a cover of a song by a really, really obscure group called the Shakes) was NMA’s biggest British hit. Aided and abetted by a rousing football-chant chorus, the song takes aim at Yankee imperialism and pulls no punches: “We’re W.A.S.P.s/proud American sons/we know how to clean our teeth/and how to strip down a gun.” Not surprisingly, members of the group have had enormous difficulties obtaining visas to play in the U.S. ever since. Personally, I never had a problem singing along, sometimes even beating my chest in sympathy, with the triumphant chorus: “Cause we’re the 51st State of America!” I was no W.A.S.P., but I was an American, and I dug the fury that New Model Army hurled our way, in much the same way as a baby monkey prefers being beaten by his mechanical mother to being ignored by her.
New Model Army never made much of a dent in the U.S. market, although, closer to home, they maintained an extraordinarily devoted fan base. Main dude Justin Sullivan retired Slade the Leveller long ago, while continuing to lead various incarnations of NMA into the ‘00s and remaining fiercely committed to the pursuit of global justice. All politics aside, “51st State” still sounds great. It’s proof positive that the worst song in a great man’s catalog is no match for a good band’s best. And there’s some justice in that.
Numerology is our pal Dave's ill advised quest to find the definitive song for every number from one to a hundred. The higher the digit, the lonelier the climb.
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, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46 , 47, 48, 49 , 50
Posted by David Klein at June 18, 2008 09:25 AM
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Comments
Someone needs to tell Wes Anderson that51% would be a great closing-credits number for a quirky dramedy.
Posted by: Liza at July 16, 2008 10:56 AM
