Title: ‘Two Drifters’ Where to find it: ‘Dreaming of Another Day’ EP (2010, Fierce Panda) Performed by:the Crookes featuring Little Glitches Words by: Daniel Hopewell
Last month I was contacted by a Crookes fan to help her with a project she was doing on them. Why she contacted me: she complimented me on my writing, had read all I’d written about the band, and was interested in my journalist’s opinion on them. It felt pretty special to be asked and I’ve been told the feature on me would be running this Thursday, so stay tuned, I’ll update this post with the link once I have it. Update: read the Q&A with me on One Week // One Band this way.
Her interviewing me had me revisit all the Crookes music I had and think about the unique journey I had with them, first as a fan, then as a journalist and friend of theirs. I came across this one, which seems like such a huge departure from their current album ‘Soapbox’. It seems to fit my current mindset; I’ve been doing a lot of writing lately and came up with a four-word phrase that I will use to name my memoirs.
The phrase is oddly closely aligned to the message in ‘Two Drifters’: despite how fairy tales end, relationships aren’t forever. When one has run its course, it’s best to say goodbye, move on, and keep the good times you had together tucked away in your heart.
First, the words:
Verse 1 Oh, it may be that we are neverending,
but I wouldn’t ever shine my shoes for you.
And you may think that we are done pretending,
that the rain that I wrote came from the blue.
Chorus Drain my wine like that widow at the window,
and it plays through my mind,
but I’m on another skyline,
from you, from you, from you, from you.
Verse 2 Oh, I look back on when we were two drifters,
drifting along so aimlessly.
We lost our way, forget those days,
because I’m done pretending
that there’s still so much for us to see.
Chorus (modified) Drain my wine like that widow at the window,
and it plays through my mind,
but I’m on another skyline from you.
Dress in my best clothes just to lean against a lamppost,
and I think of those days,
and times spent the wrong way with you.
Bridge Ink seeps in through my skin,
forgotten as I etch it in.
Though I may feel better for a while,
even moods grow in and out of style.
I let you get ahead…
Remember me fondly when I’m gone,
I’ve already been happy for far too long.
I know it’s such a shame that we pretend,
my darling, we’re racing towards different ends.
Remember me fondly when I’m gone…
Verse 3 Oh, I look back on when we were two drifters,
drifting along so aimlessly.
We lost our way, forget those days,
I’m done pretending
that there’s still so much for us to see.
Now, the analysis:
There are three things about ‘Two Drifters’ that I think are important to note about this song:
1) The protagonist is a writer. This might not be obvious but in verse 1, it sounds to me like he’s writing a Dear John letter, with rain being a metaphor for darker days ahead and the end of their time together but perceived by the girl as coming out of nowhere:
“And you may think that we are done pretending,
that the rain that I wrote came from the blue.”
There is also a clue later on in the bridge that the ink (or pen) he uses to write with is all-pervading, even in his most absent-minded of moments:
“Ink seeps in through my skin,
forgotten as I etch it in.”
2) He’s having trouble letting go, yet he’s cognisant that he and his lover exist on two entirely different planes. He is drinking, presumably to numb and dull the pain he’s having, wrestling with the decision of ending this relationship. He’s comparing the way he’s drinking himself into oblivion to the way a widow – a woman who has lost her greatest love – downs her liquor:
“Drain my wine like that widow at the window,
and it plays through my mind,
but I’m on another skyline,
from you, from you, from you, from you.”
In the second chorus, he admits to trying to hold on to the fondest memories of them being together by going through familiar motions:
“Dress in my best clothes just to lean against a lamppost,
and I think of those days, and times spent the wrong way with you.”
Later on in the bridge, he explains his difficulty in making his choice:
“Though I may feel better for a while,
even moods grow in and out of style.”
3) He once was aimless, but now he’s grown up. He understands the fairy tale is over and is done with continuing with the façade that there is anything left to their union. The road ends here.
“Oh, I look back on when we were two drifters,
drifting along so aimlessly.
We lost our way, forget those days,
because I’m done pretending
that there’s still so much for us to see.”
Those are the basic building blocks. But let’s turn our attention to the most beautiful part of this song, the bridge. In its entirety, the bridge is a gorgeous piece of work on its own, with frontman George Waite emoting its full melancholy. The protagonist is trying to make a clean break but feels the need to give an excuse for why: “Remember me fondly when I’m gone, I’ve already been happy for far too long.” Is it really possible to have been happy for too long? It is as if he was uncomfortable the way the relationship was making him feel, as if it was disturbing his core sadness.
Then he says to her, “I know it’s such a shame that we pretend, my darling, we’re racing towards different ends.” Again, it’s another excuse, an interesting departure from “it’s not you, it’s me.” But in contrast to the latter, it is an actual admittance by him that he and she are different people, wanting different things, having different goals in life. A pretty mature conclusion to come to after presumably younger days and “times spent the wrong way with you.”
When I built my first-ever, rinky-dink Web site on my university’s server many moons ago (complete with JPEGs and GIFs of weathered Greek architecture; don’t ask me why, I don’t think there was any particular reason except that they looked cool to me), I set up a page listing variants of that old chestnut about love. You know which one I’m talking about:
“If you love somebody,
Set her free…
If she comes back, she’s yours,
If she doesn’t, she never was….”
I’m not entirely sure why I devoted so much time to hand code an HTML page that looks like this one (except with awesome graphics and a coloured background, ha). In my first year at school, I’d never even had a boyfriend before. I suspect though that it had to do with being a hopeless romantic, something I’ve carried with me to today. As we get older and gain more experience with life and love, we can take those experiences and use them towards the relationship(s) that will end up working. That’s a positive thing. As Elvis once sang, “don’t be cruel / to a heart that’s true.” Letting go is hard. Knowing when to let go and the process of letting go is a compassionate act.
Lastly, the song in stream form, as it was never released as a single, so there’s no promo for it..
Title: ‘Maybe in the Dark’ Where to find it: ‘Hold Fast’ (2012, Fierce Panda [UK]; 2013, Modern Outsider [US]) Performed by:The Crookes Words by: Daniel Hopewell
It’s my birthday, so I’ve decided I’m going to revisit a song by the Crookes that means a lot to me. I did a reasonably good job analysing Daniel Hopewell’s lyrics to ‘Maybe in the Dark’ on TGTF last year. But like a lot of other songs that have ‘grown’ with me over the years, this one is aging beautifully like a fine wine and revealing more of itself to me as time passes. At the time of this writing, the lads are in the studio finishing up what will be album #3, and us Bright Young Things are pretty much chomping at the bit for new material.
Last week, I analysed ‘First Day of My Life’ by Conor Oberst. It was quite interesting to me learning through my research that Bright Eyes released two albums in 2005, and the albums are supposed to be companions to one another. Or at least that’s what the fans seem to think. (Again, I’m not a Oberst aficionado, so…) ‘Take It Easy (Love Nothing)’, the companion song to ‘First Day of My Life’ on the ‘Digital Ash in a Digital Urn’ album, and what I gleaned from it made me want to go back to the drawing board and rethink the meaning of ‘Maybe in the Dark’, the second single from the Crookes’ second album ‘Hold Fast’, released last year.
I seem to remember facing some resistance from our head editor at TGTF when I wanted to write about the Crookes back in 2009. All of us music writers have come across a band we just got this wonderful gut feeling about the first time we ever heard them. Hearing ‘Backstreet Lovers’ on Steve Lamacq’s show was one of those moments for me. I remember thinking the delightfully named “Library Tour” in autumn 2010 was very unique. Wait one cotton pickin’ minute. A rock band full of literary geek intellectuals? That sound like the Beatles? How can this be? Being American, I also figured never see them live. But I got my wish on 12 May 2012, when thanks to the Orchard, they were a last minute addition to my first Great Escape, and their appearance at the Hope truly made my weekend.
What sounded like a great idea on email in the days before – putting in a request to interview them in Brighton – became a terrifying, nail-biting, nerve-riddled, staring at myself in the mirror-kind of Saturday morning. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been so freaked out to meet some of my musical heroes in person. That was before I actually met them. They turned out to be some of the nicest people I’ve ever met, period. We’ve been friends ever since. I’ve been very lucky to have seen them 8 times as of September 2013, matching the number of times I’ve seen Morrissey. Having signed to American label Modern Outsider this very summer, I expect them to be spreading the New Pop gospel across our land and much further beyond in 2014.
First, the words, helpfully provided last summer by Hopewell himself and left in the style he prefers:
Verse 1 Maybe it’s just cheap easy lust with chemicals. We’re dirt forever.
Maybe we’re blessed. I’ll rip your dress, you pull my hair and we’ll leave together.
Maybe you’re young. I’ll bite your tongue, your lip will bleed. We’re trash forever.
Maybe you’re right, just for tonight. But your clumsy kiss won’t taste so clever.
Pre-chorus And all I need is a substitute, maybe in the dark she’ll look enough like you….
Chorus I’ll take the shame, lust to blame. What if we ever meet again?
I’ll know your face, not your name. But we’ll know
Verse 2 (shortened) Maybe I’ll find pleasure tonight? With chemicals I’ll hardly miss her.
Maybe you wear clothes like she wears. Same coloured hair. I’m sick forever.
Pre-chorus And all I need is a substitute, maybe in the dark she’ll look enough like you….
Chorus (second and third version; third version appears after bridge) I’ll take the shame, lust to blame. What if we ever meet again?
I’ll know your face, not your name. But we’ll know
Our eyes were bright, out of sight. Two strangers caught behind the night.
You’re the perfect second best.
Bridge Every time I see your ghost…(you’re the perfect second best)
Now, the analysis:
I’ve been told by friends and even people I don’t even know that my style of interviewing is very special, because I manage to get out specific and sometimes personal details about people that they wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else. A couple years ago at a festival, one of my interview subjects told me that talking to me was about as comfortable as talking to a therapist. That surprised me, and I consider that a great compliment, to have that empathy within me and for others to be able to feel that empathy. I think it has to do with me being able to feel the emotions in other people as strongly as if they were my own. Often, this comes in handy for song analysis. But maybe ‘handy’ is the wrong word for some songs. Sometimes I will hear a song and it’s like BAM! The next thing I know, I’m on the floor, seeing stars through the tears in my eyes, and why? Because I feel its message so strongly. ‘Maybe in the Dark’ did exactly that to me.
I spent far too many evenings in the weeks after ‘Hold Fast’ came out, lying in bed in the middle of a hot DC summer, unable to sleep, haunted by the memories I had of a man I’d cared for and loved deeply but who didn’t feel the same way about me. I felt about as attractive and pathetic as an old sock without its partner. The tears streamed down my cheeks as this single and ‘Stars’, the song directly follows it on the LP, played on the little yellow CD player I keep on my dresser. Back then, what impressed on me most about the way Daniel Hopewell wrote this song was the imagery of “every time I see your ghost”: it’s describing someone you once held so beloved but is now gone from your life, yet that person never fully leaves your consciousness.
You think you see that person *everywhere*. I know certainly did. Every time I was out and about in town, I was sure I’d seen this guy and his lanky frame when it clearly impossible for the two of us to be in the same place. The words “You’re the perfect second best” were particularly cutting, because it held two meanings for me. On one hand, it hurt me that he was with another woman and that I’d suddenly become his second best. But on the flipside, maybe he was settling for her and she was the perfect second best to me? Doesn’t matter now: this past spring on a trip to Liverpool I learned he wasn’t worthy of my feelings, so I was able to close that chapter of my life and put it behind me.
Months prior to my last holiday to Britain, I set myself the task to learn the bass line to this song. I really enjoy playing bass, and one big reason is that in addition to its reputation as being a very sensual instrument (which I can definitely tell you that hell yeah, it is!), the bass guitar can also be played as a deeply emotional one. There’s probably nothing better for me to get out my aggressions, upset, and sadness than throwing myself into playing my bass, Blake. Believe it or not, this song has four bass notes. FOUR. All played on one string. Seriously. Yet George Waite does an excellent job with it, as the bass line utilising the four notes, in various patterns, leads the song – shocker! – with the lead guitar melody following after the vocals begin. It’s the bass that makes the song funky and actually, it turns the song pop and pretty much does everything to detract from what I think is the actual meaning of the song.
Most everyone I’ve seen at a Crookes show is either tapping their toes or dancing like a crazy person when the guys are playing it, and with good reason: it’s funky as hell thanks to the bass line, you are compelled to sing and clap along, and you can’t help but get swept up into it because of the way it makes you feel, because it is that good. And it is. I cannot stress enough how impressed I am by this song that doesn’t even last 2 and a half minutes. Each of the three times the chorus appears, the notes are different, and I could probably do a whole post on how I think the emotions differ from one chorus to the next(!) But to make this short, notice how the second and third choruses differ: the third one has Waite singing ascending notes for the line “but we’ll know”, and when this part of the song comes on my car’s CD player, I’m aware people are looking at me funny because it looks like I’m conducting with my hands.
But the wonderfully unique thing about ‘Maybe in the Dark’ is beneath it all, it’s got very heavy subject matter for a song that sounds happy and has a bright, poppy exterior.
Maybe it’s just cheap easy lust with chemicals. We’re dirt forever. (1) Maybe we’re blessed. I’ll rip your dress, you pull my hair and we’ll leave together. (2) Maybe you’re young. I’ll bite your tongue, your lip will bleed. We’re trash forever. (3) Maybe you’re right, just for tonight. But your clumsy kiss won’t taste so clever. (4)
All four lines of the first verse have a similar arrangement. In lines 1 and 3, the voice of the song is first giving a reason for what is about to happen, only to disparage the act after. Getting drunk and being young are two all too easy – as well as all too familiar – reasons why strangers end up in bed together. But our protagonist isn’t entirely happy about what’s about to happen: “We’re dirt forever” and “We’re trash forever”. This isn’t some grand passion with someone you love that will cause you to wake up tomorrow with a smile on your face. It’s going to happen, but underlying it all is the acceptance that on some level, it’s wrong. In lines 2 and 4, Hopewell gives us the words “Maybe we’re blessed” and “Maybe you’re right”; again, these words are given as a basis for the action, though in contrast to lines 1 and 3, there’s a positive spin put on them.
Oddly though, directly after this positivity in line 2 (and also in line 3), we witness violence in the form of him ripping the woman’s dress and him biting her tongue (and lip?) so hard during a French kiss, he draws blood. He’s drunk and in that moment, the lust he feels for that woman – and she could be any woman, right? – has blinded him, and whatever violent tendencies within him are heightened by this state of altered consciousness. I don’t think he’d act like this if he were sober. The line “But your clumsy kiss won’t taste so clever.” seems to agree with this; he belittles her “clumsy kiss” and the lack of cleverness in it, as if in any other circumstance, he could see she’s beneath him; the word “clever” pops up again in ‘Stars’, but it’s used differently there.
We were told straight away in the first line what is happening here: “it’s just cheap easy lust with chemicals.” This is a major clue. Despite this lust rearing its ugly, violent head, it’s not her he really wants. Right? “And all I need is a substitute, maybe in the dark she’ll look enough like you…” Oh god, that’s absolutely heart-breaking. He’s in this drunken stupor because he’s trying to forget a woman he loved. And he still loves her, deep down. But in the heat of the moment, or maybe the better way to phrase this is the heat in his body from all the alcohol he already imbibed, he’s willing to go off with this other woman because in the dark, he can accept her as a passable alternative, as “the perfect second best” who unfortunately (for her? for both parties?) is only “just for tonight”, also known as the one-night stand. And this is all happening because he can’t have the woman he really wants to be with. Then here comes the chorus:
I’ll take the shame, lust to blame. What if we ever meet again?
I’ll know your face, not your name. But we’ll know
These two lines reminded me of the Catholic guilt Morrissey has employed throughout his solo career post-Smiths. They read to me that he’s feeling guilt for the act, feeling the shame for what he’s doing with this woman who he will not care to remember in the morning, yet he wants to blame lust for his actions. Is this misplaced blame? Can you really blame lust in this case? It is probably worth now distinguishing the difference between lust and sexual desire, at least from a psychological standpoint. The former is done for gratification of self, while the latter is a symbiotic ‘dance’ of give and take, where both partners benefit. See how the word “lust” is used here, with the protagonist even admitting he’s not going to remember her name, only her face, because physically she reminds him of a former love. There is also an unsettling nature to “But we’ll know”: as much as he can try and forget what happened, what’s done will be done. And they will both leave in the morning, knowing their time together was nothing more than fleeting pleasure. This is also sad.
A shortened verse comes next, repeating the tone of the first verse; he’s trying to substitute this sexual pleasure (“Maybe I’ll find pleasure tonight?”) for what he really wants in his life: that woman that haunts him. The excuses he gives that the perfect second best who is before him is acceptable for this one purpose – “Maybe you wear clothes like she wears. Same coloured hair.” – fall flat because ultimately, he admits, “I’m sick forever”. Meaning that despite all these one-night stands he will have to try and erase the memory of the woman he loves, the deep, underlying feelings for her that he harbours will never leave him.
The add-on to the second and third choruses is further perplexing: “Our eyes were bright, out of sight. Two strangers caught behind the night.” Initially, I thought the first sentence meant that they went into this one-night stand with bright, young eyes, eyes wide open, and they knew exactly what they were doing, knowing it was being done in a clandestine way (“out of sight”, i.e., they’ve left together without their other friends knowing what’s happened) and accepted it for what it was. But the more I think about it, the second line throws you a curveball, as they were “Two strangers caught behind the night.” Just the word “caught” seems to indicate as if getting stuck in a terrible web of circumstance, i.e., the evening at the club where man and woman come across each other, bat eyelashes, and before long, they’re making out, all sensibility goes out the window, and next thing you know, lust has taken over and two strangers are in a hotel room somewhere, breathing heavily and having meaningless sex. I don’t think most people listening to this song are grasping this concept. Or maybe that was the point, to write a song so terribly poppy that it was unlikely for anyone to latch on to the real meaning?
The song never comes to a resolution, and I guess it’s not meant to: it’s left open-ended, and you’re left standing there, wondering what’s happened to the protagonist and if he was ever able to rid himself of the ghost. If not, it sounds like this could be a continuing vicious cycle of one-night stands, followed by this overwhelming shame he has to internalise, by himself, every time he sleeps with a woman who means nothing to him, because she will never compare favourably with the ideal woman he holds on to so tightly in his heart.
When I came across Conor Oberst’s ‘Take It Easy (Love Nothing)’ (lyrics in the YouTube video description), the protagonist of his story gets his heart broken by an older woman, and now he’s having one-night stands because the hurt within him makes it impossible for him to open up emotionally to any other woman. Oberst’s protagonist comes across as callous, hard, and unfeeling, as well as unwilling to work through the pain of his heartbreak, even if working through that pain could set him free. I find it so painful to hear someone giving up on love in a song: “Now I do as I please and lie through my teeth / Someone might get hurt, but it won’t be me / She’ll probably feel cheap, but I just feel free, and a little bit empty.”
In the context of ‘Hold Fast’, especially since its one love song ‘Stars’ follows it, for some reason I feel more positive about ‘Maybe in the Dark’. In contrast to ‘Take It Easy (Love Nothing)’, the protagonist of ‘Maybe in the Dark’ has already identified his actions as wrong. In fact, he’s beating himself up over it, calling them the both of them “dirt” and “trash” for giving into lust. The bigger question is whether unlike Oberst’s protagonist, is he willing to look deeply into himself and his heart to close the book on the woman that was part of his past history, so he can truly heal and allow himself to love another woman? I’ll be interested to see if we get some resolution on this in the third Crookes album.
Lastly, the song, in two forms. First, the black and white promo performance video. Second, a video I filmed on 15 March 2013 at this year’s SXSW in which you see George Waite playing bass and clearly hear its influence over the whole song.
Sometimes I get upset with myself, having started this site and not being able to devote anywhere near the time it needs to produce great regular content. There are so many ideas in my head, and I so rarely have the luxury to sit in front of the computer and just say what I feel. Because usually I’ve got to devote that time to post content on There Goes the Fear, where, let’s face it, people are not there to read about all the things going on in my grey cells!
Since I last posted in January 1) I’ve been in hospital for a week with a ridiculously high fever and flu, and I expected God to be calling me up to join him (and to be honest, my boss made me feel like it would be better if I were dead, how horrible is that), 2) I went to SXSW and saw a ton of bands, 3) only to come back and having been entirely absorbed in writing post-festival content, which ended up being over 50 posts. So…I’ve been busy.
I don’t expect this to be a regular occurrence, but this is a near reposting of a review that has already gone online at TGTF. It had really bothered me for a while that I had not posted a lyrical interpretation of a song by Sheffield band the Crookes yet. After all, it was their chief wordsmith Daniel Hopewell who had encouraged me to take on this project, saying this was the sort of site he would read daily.
Well, as it so happens, that was what exactly happened with this single review and interpretation, and kind of in an unexpected way. I had just walked into work, grumbling slightly about the usual terrible DC traffic, and then my phone went nuts to alert me that I’d gotten new Tweets. I obviously never know who is reading what I write unless I actually get feedback of some kind, and shortly after the article had been Tweeted about our on site’s Twitter, Daniel Tweeted at me to clarify a line that I had misheard and then to tell me he was “very impressed” with what I’d come up with. Most of the time, the only feedback we get at TGTF is of the negative, indignant “how dare you compare my favourite band X to band Y!” variety. (What springs to mind is a expletive-filled tirade attributed to ‘Gem Archer’ [yeah right] screaming at me about a Noel Gallagher piece.) So this meant a lot.
At the time, I knew they were away from home and somewhere on the road in England on tour, so needless to say, the fact that he took the time to say he’d read it, liked it, and wanted to assist in my writing by providing the correct lyric meant more to me than anything in the world. Further, completely unexpectedly, he posted the link to my single review on the Crookes’ Facebook page so more fans could read it. I was over the moon. As a music writer, there is no greater validation of your talent than someone you know and respect coming out and giving you props. Basically that morning, I thought, okay, I can die happy now. Everything from now on is just icing on the cake.
I should also note that the single’s premiere on Steve Lamacq’s 6music drivetime programme on Monday the 15th of April was about 2 hours prior to the terror bombings in Boston, on Massachusetts’ Patriot Day. Boston, for specific reasons I won’t go into in this post, is a very important city to me. When it came time to sit down with the video for ‘Bear’s Blood’ and really tease out what was going on in there, I had a heavy heart for what was going on in my country and maybe it helped pull out from the song what it was about, at least in my mind, much easier. I thanked him and the band for posting the link with this follow-up comment:
After the emotional day we had here in America yesterday, I sat down with the video and just wrote and wrote what I felt about the song. It’s truly the ultimate compliment to know you appreciated the words I wrote about what you gave to us. Thank you for this beauty.
“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.”
So below is a reposting of the original single review on TGTF, just with the parts rearranged for Music in Notes style, but you are welcome to also read the piece in its original form here. I will say that beyond what I wrote Monday night, the more I thought about the words again tonight, I had to stop myself from crying. It sounds so happy, yet there is something about it that makes me sad and ache inside. It feels like a very personal song and look forward to being able to talk to Daniel about this sometime in the near future.
And I’ve thought about it. Yes, I’m handing over several Sharpie pens to the band and they can write all over my face, hands and arms as they see fit the next time they see me. Ha!
Title: ‘Bear’s Blood’ Where to find it: it’s one-half of a double A-sided single that drops the 27th of May 2013, and we’re not sure when their third album is out, let alone when the album will be be released… (Fierce Panda) Performed by:The Crookes Words by: Daniel Hopewell
First, the words:
Drip feed hope to a blind, homeless man
Stars explode like aerosol cans
and scar the face of Jalla Jalla*
You felt lust at the edge of your lips
Spread like ichor** to your fingertips
I fell in love with love and squalor^
Oh, it ain’t easy, no, to keep it graceful
To love and be loved seems somehow unfaithful
It feels like I am missing out here?
Baby wants to set me on fire
Old shoes are hung as words are strung from telegraph wires
Bear’s Blood’s down(ed?) in Metelkova^^
You know I’m lost
Oh, it ain’t easy, no, to keep it graceful
To love and be loved seems somehow unfaithful
It feels like I am missing out here?
Oh, you know I’m lost
You know I’m lost…
You know I’m lost
Oh, it ain’t easy, no, to keep it graceful
You know I’m lost…
Oh, it ain’t easy, no, to keep it graceful
To love and be loved seems somehow unfaithful
You know I’m lost…
I crucify the night, a quiet life’s so wasteful
It feels like I am missing out here?
Oh, you know I’m lost
You know I’m lost
You know I’m lost
You know I’m lost
Miscellaneous notes:
* Jalla Jalla: A club in Ljubljana, Slovenia. But I don’t think its purpose is this exclusively. I hope I don’t embarrass Mr. Hopewell next month when I ask him what the deal is with this place…
**ichor: “an ethereal fluid taking the place of blood in the veins of the ancient Greek gods” (Merriam-Webster Dictionary
^ “with love and squalor” – possible reference to J.D. Salinger’s short story For Esme – with Love and Squalor, also the name of We Are Scientists’ debut album released in 2005
^^ “Bear’s Blood down(ed?) in Metelkova” – Metelkova is an alternative, cultural hotbed, and city guides note you can get a shot (or three) of a famous local tipple
Now, the analysis:
The Crookes are already hard at work on album #3, which looks like will be following in the footsteps of 2011’s ‘Chasing After Ghosts’ and 2012’s ‘Hold Fast’, so I’m expecting this third album to appear in quick succession. Just getting its first airplay last night on Steve Lamacq’s drivetime show on 6music, ‘Bear’s Blood’ is the first single from their yet to be named third album. The double A-sided single comes out the 27th of May on Fierce Panda. [Update: the other A-side is ‘Dance in Colour’.]
According to Lammo, this song, along with several other new ones, were recorded this year between their support slot with Richard Hawley in February and whence we caught up with them in Austin for SXSW 2013 in March. From all the interviews I’ve done and bands I’ve asked, writing on the road is a very difficult task, so hearing that the Crookes already have several songs in the can for album #3 is good news for fans indeed. ‘Bear’s Blood’, as the first taste of this new material to be unleashed on the public in short order, then demands further examination. Last year, band lyricist Daniel Hopewell indulged my interest in the words to single ‘Maybe in the Dark’ so I would have all of the words in front of me before I began my research. Expecting to have to grovel at his feet again, it was a pleasant surprise to be able to get all (or nearly all) of the lyrics from the new video released last night. And away we go:
Initially, I had it deadset in my mind that ‘Bear’s Blood’ just had to be a reference to the bear pit in Sheffield’s Botanical Gardens that I had mythologised in my head was the setting was ‘Yes, Yes, We’re Magicians’ from 2010’s ‘Dreams of Another Day’ (“Mrs. Porter’s crying, ‘keep that kid away from my bear!’”). But having “METEL KOVA” (or the place of Metalkova) spelled out in black marker on a white shirt helped me out quite a bit.
How I’m reading this on the surface is that it’s chronicling life in this wild and crazy part of a Slovenian town. And if this is the case, the video surely reflects this joy but also mental spirit, with the lyrics of the song being written on band members’ faces, necks, arms and clothes. Being around them recently during the mayhem that is known as SXSW, I watched how the four of them simply love life and how anything related to them ends up truly madcap and fun. It’s not a front. That’s how the Crookes are in real life. They have the incredible ability to bring sunshine into life when there isn’t any.
But I did say that was on the surface. I don’t know how common it is in Britain, let alone far-flung Slovenia, but “Old shoes are hung as words are strung from telegraph wires” often have a criminal connotation when seen in blighted areas in America, quite possibly indicating you’re passing through a less than desirable area; see the intro to the video for Morrissey’s ‘Glamorous Glue’. As happy as this song sounds, it’s about to go dark.
And going further, I can feel someone’s truly tortured. “Oh, it ain’t easy, no, to keep it graceful / you know I’m lost…” seems to suggest that it takes great pains to make things look easy from the outside when your insides are in turmoil. Then there’s the “Bear’s Blood’s down(ed?) in Metelkova”, the drinking of some legendary brew native only to that area. (I’m wondering if the stuff is called ‘Bear’s Blood’ because it makes you think you’re as strong as a bear; scroll to about 1.01 into the video, you’ll see Hopewell with his arms raised as if he’s Rocky Balboa.) I haven’t decided yet if it’s the alcohol causing the person to get ‘lost’ or they were already lost to begin with and is now drowning his/her sorrows in drink. Either way, there’s internal conflict. And I feel this pain.
When I finally transcribed the lyrics myself, the two lines “To love and be loved seems somehow unfaithful / It feels like I am missing out here?” and “I crucify the night, a quiet life’s so wasteful” [the band helpfully set me right on how this line actually reads after I posted this review – Ed.] had me agog at the computer screen, tears ready to roll down my cheeks. How could someone who barely knows me write about my life so well? Obviously it wasn’t written about my life. But I’m sure loads of people can relate too. “What if crucifixion’s on the dole?” is a famous line in ‘Sal Paradise’, but I have to say I’m impressed with the way crucifixion imagery is used again in ‘Bear’s Blood’. I can of course never be sure what he meant, but I know what it means for me. As for “To love and be loved seems somehow unfaithful / It feels like I am missing out here?”, I have my own guess as to what this means to the band themselves, but I’m going to keep it under my hat for now…
I have to admit, I didn’t have an immediate love for this tune upon first listen. The washy guitars seemed to be entirely at odds with everything the Crookes have released up to this point, and the whole affair reminded me too much of what Richard Hawley did on ‘Standing at the Sky’s Edge’ album last year, turning to a psychedelic sound. I kept muttering “oh no, oh no” to myself as it played all the way through. But it was the video – and reading over the lyrics – that sold me on the song. Clocking in as only a few more seconds longer than ‘Maybe in the Dark’, it’s still an amazing pop song by any measure, though lyrically it packs an incredible punch and is a major step up from that previous single. While it will take some getting used to this new sound of theirs, after considering ‘Bear’s Blood’, I’m still in it for the long haul.
9/10
‘Bear’s Blood’, the new single from the Crookes, will be released on 7″ and digital download on the 27th of May on Fierce Panda. The band will be headlining the Fierce Panda 19th birthday party at London Scala on Tuesday the 21st of May; tickets are on sale now. Support will be provided by their local mates the Heartbreaks and Hey Sholay. I’ll be somewhere in the crowd, if you fancy saying hello. Not sure if I’ll be sporting black marker on my face and arms though…
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