Music blog + School of rock

Nina Simone ... a comforting, soothing, warm-blanket of a voice. Photograph: Getty

Tenderness is a brave thing to attempt in song. Firstly, you risk ridicule for daring to express such a gentle notion and secondly, it is difficult to stay on the straight and narrow without tripping over into mawkishness. That said the deathly mark of the mawk is often something applied by journalists afraid to confront their softer sides. The two problems first appear in an unusual guise: music that sounds tender but on closer analysis seems to be nothing of the sort. Continue reading...

Spitting venom ... Walter Becker and Donald Fagen of Steely Dan.
Photograph: Neal Preston/Corbis

Between R and T is not a pleasant place to be. Is it the serpentine nature of S that leads us to sneer and scorn with spiteful sarcasm; the sibilance of our Biblical betrayal hissing in our ears? This week we'll take a look at the most spiteful sounds that our pop overlords have to offer. Continue reading...

No sympathy for the devil … Johnny Cash. Photograph: AP

What better way to focus on regret than taking a diversion into where it is best expressed: the world of country music. Country is great at conveying regret. The music itself has many limitations, and I don't mean this in a negative sense – merely that country music has a set of signifiers that are relatively conservative. It often sticks to the basic primary and secondary chords of whatever key it is in, and lyrically it doesn't skirt far from heterosexual relationship issues. In terms of rhythm and production, it is often even plainer, eschewing the syncopation and flourishes of pop. However, like the blues, this does not make it less effective in conveying its core message. This bread-and-butter approach leaves a canvas for the things that matter. Which are … Continue reading...

He saw Brigadoon … Mike Scott of the Waterboys in 1985. Photograph: Lynn Goldsmith/Corbis

Mike Scott, the Waterboys frontman, was mentioned in last week's blog in reference to optimism and pessimism – but really, his band's 1985 hit The Whole of the Moon is quixotic rather than merely optimistic. I'm sure the unnamed hero in the song hasn't really seen Brigadoon (unless it's the 1954 Gene Kelly version), but, as the lyrics say, where we mere mortals see a rain-dirty valley, he sees the lights of this legendary lost village twinkling through the mist. The impractical pursuit of romantic ideals … what better fodder for art? Continue reading...

Leonard Cohen ... always look on the bleak side of life. Photograph: Aaron Harris/AP

O was for optimism, and now the alphabet allows us to flip-reverse into negativity. Last week, when Mike Scott of the Waterboys saw the crescent, we all saw the whole of the moon – but today we're going to see the beaming sickle grin of Satan gloating over a doomed world … Continue reading...

Good vibrations ... the Beach Boys' Brian Wilson writing music to make you Smile. Photograph: Michael Ochs/Getty Images

Singing generates endorphins and makes us happy, but what should we sing to maximise the effect? The narrowest definition of optimism provides a list of sunny favourites: Lovely Day, Beautiful Day, Three Little Birds, Don't Worry Be Happy, What a Wonderful World etc. Not too much in common other than that none of them are from the optimism-shy UK. But stuff that! To be truly optimistic you have to delve in the muck to try and find a way out. So rather than just picking out the happy clappers, let's examine a few songs about optimism and see what they've got in common. Continue reading...

I'm just loving myself in this costume … Michael Jackson. Photograph: Allstar

If there is a more pervasive topic for discussion in popular music, then please enlighten me. The urge to write (pushing your own view on the world) or perform (pushing yourself on to the world) has its roots in narcissism, so music is inevitably shot through with it. The overinflated importance musicians place on their own activities and outlook has given music its forward momentum. This goes right back to the 12th-century pioneers who took sacred music and turned it into a polyphonic art form, transferring the glorification of God in the text to worship of their own musical talent. From here through to the ever-growing virtuosity of concerto performers/jazz players/heavy metal guitarists/soul singers, music is all about giving it the big I am. How does this manifest itself in pop? Continue reading...

Surely there was no more melancholy a band? … Morrissey and Johnny Marr of the Smiths. Photograph: Rex Features/SIPA

My first recollection of melancholy is seeing a road sign designated "Melancholy Lane". A quick Google search confirms this childhood memory as being on the Dorset road from Wareham to Corfe Castle, a fantastically crumbling ruin that inspired an eerie sense of awe in my young self. This early memory has imprinted this elusive emotion into my brain as a positive experience, and I have been drawn ever after to music I perceive as melancholic.

Transcending its Greek origins (from "black bile"; a preponderance of which caused the diagnosis of melancholia in the medical world of yesteryear), the poetic sonority of the word itself lends its usage a romantic bent that cannot be ignored. To be melancholy is a pastel-shaded pensiveness that evokes something dreamier than depression. Hence Charlie Brown is melancholic rather than depressive, along with the Smiths (Johnny Marr's beautiful chiming guitars could never let depression in), and my childhood loves from Pink Floyd's oblique English sadness to Schumann's Scenes from Childhood. But how? Continue reading...

Elvis Presley ... some say he exudes more sexual energy than Johnny Borrell. Photograph: Corbis/Bettmann

Having whipped through the kinky end of things last week, this time we take a look at the technical side of getting music bumping and grinding. There are, as they say, different strokes for different folks and there are plenty of ways of portraying lust in music. A friend of mine claims to have lost his virginity to the Smiths' Reel Around the Fountain, one of the most bloodless songs in their catalogue and without a wah-wah pedal or smooth saxophone in earshot. However, there are certain sexy signifiers in music that enable us to go beyond merely describing sex and recreate it in thrusting stereo. Continue reading...

Kink or cliche? ... Marilyn Manson (right) and Rose McGowan at the MTV Music awards in LA in 1998. Photograph: Rex Features

Is the world of kinkiness well represented in song? From the Kinks themselves, and their generous appreciation of Lola, to the staged skull-on-a-stick schtick of Marilyn Manson; whether you want a minor stiletto-tickling or a full-on thrashing, let's have a peek. Continue reading...

Just a jealous guy ... gruesome retribution in Berg's bleak opera Wozzeck. Photograph: Tristram Kenton/PR

There are many songs about jealousy that are toned down into wistful "why me?" wallowing, but it takes a brave artist to reveal the dagger-in-the-heart pangs of real resentment. Continue reading...

Irritating? What could possibly be irritating about a noisy blue frog on a motorbike?

We all have our own personal irritants. A friend of mine, for instance, used to blast Ornette Coleman's Free Jazz to clear her record shop of customers at closing time. But far from the skronk of experimental music, it's the everyday radio play that most gets our collective goats. What is it about harmless daytime filler that turns it into blackboard-scraping fodder? Continue reading...

The sound of slapstick … Road Runner and Wile E Coyote. Photograph: Everett/Rex

I must declare an interest here: I don't get on with humour in music. When it comes to writing music, what seems funny today won't be funny tomorrow. I also admit that the embarrassment of having enjoyed both the Sultans of Ping FC and Lawnmower Deth has left me with an overwhelming suspicion that humour in music is just a trick to make me look stupid in the long run. Continue reading...

Guilty parties ... Arab Strap's Malcolm Middleton and Aidan Moffat

Guilt is a complex beast, less a primary emotion than a subtle blend of several others. Take a spoonful of regret, add a pinch of love for the victim of our actions, mix with some sinful pleasure and stir with the self-satisfaction of forgiveness. Unsurprisingly, it takes more than a few sad minor chords to convey a guilty conscience in music. Continue reading...

The first time I realised music could induce crippling fear was while pawing through my parents' record collection as a child and coming across a sleeve featuring the Earth's crust peeling away to reveal a malevolent skull. I decided it was pure evil and far too scary to listen to. I needn't have worried, though, as Jean Michel Jarre's Oxygene, even at the very worst, would only have lightly spooked me. However, music does have the ability to frighten, so let's take a look at how. Continue reading...