Czwartek 27 Sie 2009, 17:44
As I get deeper into this project, I am starting to discover that most song lengths do not suit a particular genre exclusively; that is, I don't find most of these lists to be dominated by a single style. That's why it hasn't occurred to me to make mixtapes or construct playlists around specific lengths–there's no real stylistic or thematic gravity for the individual songs to orbit around. And a good mix isn't just about good songs, it's even more about the relationships between them.
(That's not to say that mixes with varied styles aren't good–built with care, they can be the very best kind of mix–just that they're harder to do.)
That's not true of this list. Perhaps it's just an anomaly, but 2:19 seems to lend itself to the virtues of original rock n' roll: simplicity, rawness, primary-color emotions, the big beat. Another virtue of 50s rock–an extrinsic, cultural plus–is that since the era of Happy Days, American Graffitti, and Sha Na Na, 50s rock has been mostly ignored by both classic rock and oldies radio, meaning that these songs haven't been shoved down our throats like so many 60s and 70s hits have been. They've had some breathing room.
But in another sense, 50s rock n' roll has never really gone away, instead contributing its DNA to a variety of direct descendants such as punk, R&B, non-Nashville/insurgent country, garage rock, surf, and rockabilly. To borrow a phrase from Neal Stephenson, original rock n' roll is an evolutionary badass.
Of course, it's not like all of these oldies were, in fact, goodies. You know, Pat Boone was really popular at the time. Even the good stuff was somewhat limited in its sonic and lyrical palettes. But fifty years on, it has proven to be a remarkably durable template. We even sent Chuck Berry to the stars.
The Top Fourteen Songs at 2:19
1) Yeah! Oh, Yeah!–The Magnetic Fields
Damn the theme, this is my favorite at this length. It's a murder ballad dressed up for Broadway, thrown against the wall in the style of Phil Spector, then stripped down to its underwear and set on fire. Subversion of romantic clichés doesn't come any drier, darker, or funnier.
2) (Every Time I Hear) That Mellow Saxophone–Roy Montrell
Great, forgotten, essential early rock n roll. Flip it, flop it, Davy Crockett! If you’ve never heard it, you need to. Montrell was a New Orleans session guitarist, and this is one of only two singles he ever recorded under his own name. Disclaimer: "mellow" this song is not. More of a rolling boil.
3) Good Good Lovin'–James Brown
The Godfather didn't burst from the womb as the king of funk he would later become; he cut his teeth on prime rock n' roll like this.
4) Make Any Vows–Game Theory
Like so many Scott Miller songs, the melodic construction is flawless: the build from verse to prechorus to chorus is reliably blush-inducing. Does anyone else have the blush reaction to a great tune? If so, does anyone know why that happens?
5) Seven & Seven Is–Love
Revelatory 60s punk—just turn up the distortion on that guitar and it fits right in with SoCal scene a dozen years later. Unfortunately, Lee was not trying very hard with the lyrics—as with too many otherwise great songs, they read like the first things the songwriter thought of that fit the melody, and no one ever went back to revise them.
6) Mach 1–Trailer Bride
Melissa Swingle is a master of the emasculating, pithy putdown. Here she absolutely incinerates a man whose self-image is that of a tough, masculine dude, but who pours all his money into a Mustang sitting on blocks in the front yard and drives his girlfriend's car–when he's not at home with his PlayStation.
7) I'm Movin' On–Ray Charles
I've written before about how my fondest wish for time traveling is to just go see bands. Shallow, perhaps, but that doesn't change how kick-ass it would be to see Ray Charles play at a juke joint sometime in the 50s.
This is a Hank Snow country original, covered dozens of times, but Ray's version is the best I've heard.
8) Just a Memory–Elvis Costello & the Attractions
This torchy ballad is about as straightforward lyrically as Elvis gets, and what it loses in lyrical pyrotechnics, it gains in directness. He insists, “memories don’t mean that much to me,” but the dull pain of raw nerves can't be disguised.
9) Terms of Psychic Warfare–Hüsker Dü
Another data point for Grant Hart in the Grant vs. Bob argument. Reliably Du-licious, but sprightly pop and loping country hide behind the fuzz.
10) Blue Moon–The Marcels
Dip-de-dip-de-dip. Vocal hooks for miles.
11) Stop, I'm Already Dead–deadboy & the Elephantmen
A ten-minute psychedelic 70s blues stomp, distilled down to just the cool parts. Or just the skeletal structure of a Lenny Kravitz song, minus the indulgence.
12) Backspace Century–Deerhunter
Like a smeared Polaroid of a Pavement song, it starts off Weird Era, Cont. with a psychedelic announcement that this will be no typical bonus-disc collection of stuff that’s not good enough for the regular album.
13) Two Swords–The English Beat
It's hard to think of another anti-war/anti-violence song that is this much delirious fun.
14) A Certain Girl–The Yardbirds
Not quite as good as the Ernie K-Doe original, but infused with a carefree joy typical of the early 60s British Invasion bands. Their aim was not to sanitize, but to evangelize—and it wound up teaching Americans to love our own music again. Thanks, Brits.
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A while back, I promised stats (in the project index). Think I'm gonna take a stab at putting those together before my vacation next month.