One of my original aims here was to illuminate the band’s
music by exploring my own influences, and trying to draw metaphors and links
between the two. Unfortunately, none of the songs I have been listening to
lately have anything to do with Great Big Sea. Of late we have all been busy
writing away like maniacs, trying to outdo one and another in the race to the
next album. When you have any time for pure listening, it is a good idea to get
as far outside the box as possible. Therefore, as it is raining, and my house
is unbearably hot, and I do not have the patience to go on and on about some
tune no one else even likes, and the last song I finished stunk, I thought I
would stick to basics for a change. Or just ramble on. Be warned.
Looking back on all these pieces, it is interesting how many
songs I like because they are a bit sad. Perhaps this will give me a new
sobriquet in the band - ‘the depressed one’, or better yet, ‘the sad one’. For
years fans have accused me of being ‘the quiet one’, because I rarely say
anything onstage. In my defense, I saw the White Stripes the other night, and
that Gillis fellow hardly said anything either. And his wife or sister or
whatever never said a word. No one calls them ‘quiet’. I am also known as the
‘smart one’, mainly because I have an unhealthy ability to recall trivia of
little use to anyone, and I rarely watch TV. And unlike everyone else on the
Newfoundland music scene, I bothered to figure out how HST worked. It does not
take much, sometimes.
Anyway, here are a couple of really sad songs: ‘No Rain’ by
Blind Melon, and ‘All The Small Things’ by Blink 182. Neither song is supposed
to be sad, but both are testaments to the vagaries of the rock life style, and
both have gained an unhappy tone. Blink 182 broke up in acrimony a couple of
years after this song came out. The song’s odd tone of resignation, which
always made for an unusual juxtaposition with its Ramones’ groove makes perfect
sense now. I actually feel kind of
bad that the band broke up. Their last single, with the unfortunate title ‘I
Miss You’, was a massive step forward for the band, and should have been their
turning point. Instead, it was their requiem. Blind Melon’s ‘No Rain’ was so
good even they could not surpass it. Try to put the silly video out of your
mind, and just listen to the explosion of sweet hope in Shannon Hoon’s voice.
It could not last, and it didn’t. A heroin o.d. is a particularly pointless way
to die, especially since with that one song Hoon proved he had greatness in
him.
In those songs, context puts them into their emotional
place. A lot of folk songs are so unhappy context does not even need to come
into it. Try and find the Voice Squad’s version of ‘The Brown and the Yellow
Ale’. The song is about the discovery of infidelity, and the sort of
incomprehension and despair that comes with it. The melody is melancholy
without ever becoming a dirge, (which is a fine line to walk), and the lyric
pure poetry. My personal favourite from the sad song catalogue is ‘*** of the
North’, an obscure Irish song best recorded by Eddie and Finbar Furey. The
lyric is a woman’s defense of her love for the town simpleton, and the joy he
brings her with his strange, impractical and beauteous vision. Furey sings it as
if he was recalling someone he knew all too well, and his voice cracks with
emotion in the live version. Whether real or feigned, I have never heard
another song like it. In the ‘sad’ department, it is a heads-up winner.
Hmmm. The ‘sad one’. I rather like it. Indeed - I shall grow a
drooping moustache, and wear even more black. Instead of trying to think of
witty remarks for podcasts, I shall keep a self-indulgent journal full of my
musings on diverse and dull topics, and I will paint grayish water-colours of cliffs
and dead caplin and abandoned gill nets. I shall write lengthy poems. And drink
unpleasant cheap cognacs. I will submit hectoring editorials blaming Canada for
all Newfoundland’s problems. The key of ‘Dm’ shall be my default setting.
I am sure it will make for a refreshing change.