Somewhere
Another existential lament by Grant V. Hart, and a prime counterpoint to the belief that Zen Arcade is emotionally dated by its youthful angst. If one concentrates on the more youth-specific rants, this argument carries some weight (listening to a song like 'The Biggest Lie' out of the context of the album is a bit ... bizarre), but to me, the more "unbearable lightness of being"-esque songs are the ones that carry the emotional heft, and are thus the ones with real staying power. 'Somewhere' is one of those songs.
'Somewhere' is unique in the Zen Arcade narrative in that, to these ears, it's the only time the protagonist displays a sense of idealism, of hope. Even when that hope is tempered by the bitter, cold truth that shit doesn't always work out, that the mythical "somewhere" is just that -- an empty, hollow illusion. Does that mean you stop chasing it? The answer is different for everyone, and for me, one of the prime beauties of 'Somewhere' is that my interpretations of the character's intentions shift depending on my mood.
Musically, the song is damn gorgeous, highlighted by Grant's killer rolls in the chorus and some up-yours-fake-punks backwards guitar. And it's one of the most epic two-and-a-half minute songs I've ever laid ears on.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
hüskers top 10: #4
What's Going On
The first four tracks on side two compose Zen Arcade’s “anger suite.” As good as these tunes are, searing, blind rage isn’t the type of emotion I relate to on a daily basis.
But the tale takes a subtle shift on the fifth track. There’s no doubt that ‘What’s Going On’ spews more than enough fury to keep the thematic thread from unraveling. But it’s also the point when the anger begins to transform, when doubt and resignation start to seep in. And soon enough, every thought of our protagonist is soaked in them.
Grant’s primal paean to bewilderment (as well as the isolating effects of slipping too deeply into one's own head), ‘What’s Going On’ swims in tension and unease, which kick in with the first note from Greg’s wobbling, warbling bass. An insect-like hum rises slowly from Bob’s guitar, then explodes in a jagged, slashing spray in unison with Grant’s first words: I was talking/when I should have been listening. Writhing with feral ferocity, Bob's axe is a strangled beast -- moaning, groaning, hissing.
It’s a small miracle that the band manages to reach the first chorus. Pounded piano keys and tortured steel cocoon Grant’s disorientated plea, yelped forth like a twisted mantra:
What’s going on inside my head?
A dizzying, psychedelic “interlude” commences before we’re back to the chorus. The last “inside my head” is slowed, almost slurred. Both Grant and Bob do this, but to varying degrees. It’s a brilliant, beautifully disorienting touch.
Finally, the song eases, seemingly spent. But Bob refuses to yield. The abuse merely becomes more measured, a sluggish, savage molestation. Suddenly the band lurches forth in afinal, frantic burst. Everything falls apart. Bob’s guitar in its death throes now. A low grunt and –
Fin.
Dope.
The first four tracks on side two compose Zen Arcade’s “anger suite.” As good as these tunes are, searing, blind rage isn’t the type of emotion I relate to on a daily basis.
But the tale takes a subtle shift on the fifth track. There’s no doubt that ‘What’s Going On’ spews more than enough fury to keep the thematic thread from unraveling. But it’s also the point when the anger begins to transform, when doubt and resignation start to seep in. And soon enough, every thought of our protagonist is soaked in them.
Grant’s primal paean to bewilderment (as well as the isolating effects of slipping too deeply into one's own head), ‘What’s Going On’ swims in tension and unease, which kick in with the first note from Greg’s wobbling, warbling bass. An insect-like hum rises slowly from Bob’s guitar, then explodes in a jagged, slashing spray in unison with Grant’s first words: I was talking/when I should have been listening. Writhing with feral ferocity, Bob's axe is a strangled beast -- moaning, groaning, hissing.
It’s a small miracle that the band manages to reach the first chorus. Pounded piano keys and tortured steel cocoon Grant’s disorientated plea, yelped forth like a twisted mantra:
What’s going on inside my head?
A dizzying, psychedelic “interlude” commences before we’re back to the chorus. The last “inside my head” is slowed, almost slurred. Both Grant and Bob do this, but to varying degrees. It’s a brilliant, beautifully disorienting touch.
Finally, the song eases, seemingly spent. But Bob refuses to yield. The abuse merely becomes more measured, a sluggish, savage molestation. Suddenly the band lurches forth in afinal, frantic burst. Everything falls apart. Bob’s guitar in its death throes now. A low grunt and –
Fin.
Dope.
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