"And Guess What I Found..." Part 8: 11-20

 


Surprisingly, last week's post provoked less reaction than any one so far. I'm presuming that this means I'm getting everything just right.

We're into the top twenty this week, so expect some high quality tunes...


20 10 Denier

(B-side of Wow, 2000)

A light and fluffy but delightful concoction, one of the best examples of Cinerama doing kitsch 60s pop. Framed around a playful, meandering piano part and bolstered by almost austere strings, it's joyfully melodic and abandoned. 

The lyric treads a fine line between passionate and creepy in places - 'stroke your 10 denier'; 'your hungry mouth locked onto mine' - but overall it's just a gloriously flimsy pop song.



19 Your Time Starts Now

(Disco Volante, 2000)

It's a pretty tall order to close an album after something as majestic as 'Wow' (which you probably won't be surprised to learn doesn't appear until next week) but YTSN manages the task with a certain elegant grace.

By Gedge standards it's a rather ambiguous lyric. We're obviously in familiar crossroads-in-the-relationship territory to some extent ('I’ve given everything I have to give but it’s not enough'), but it's not entirely clear whether it's him or her that's ended things, or indeed whether things are actually over. He seems to want to give things another go, but for some reason feels it's up to her to provide the solution: 'you say you’ve got the answer - your time starts now'.

The measured, almost stately arrangement, framed around Simon Cleave's precisely picked acoustic guitar part, is an ideal foil for the gentle intrigue. After the adrenalin rush of 'Wow', the song is a refined palate cleanser; a dreamy, wistful coda to Disco Volante.



18 Honey Rider

(Va Va Voom, 1998)

The verse - a lively shuffle embellished by tremolo guitar and keyboard flourishes - is delightful, but the chorus is what elevates the song: a trademark rousing DLG melody.

Although it's not a spectacularly original lyric, it's a neat one: the narrator as the 'other man' lamenting his duplicitous lover's reluctance to come clean to her boyfriend ('the way that you’re treating us both is quite appalling') and threatening to tell all ('if you won’t say a word, I might') or duck out altogether ('I’m waiting now / but I won’t be waiting here forever'). The highlight is the witheringly sarcastic 'I know the strain that you’re under / but I’ve started to wonder / if one lover is sufficient for you'.

The whole thing drips with classic Cinerama reference points: the 60s spy series vibe, the dreamy backing vocals, the jazzy flute solo... And of course the title is a James Bond reference, Honey Ryder being not only a character from Dr. No ('Honeychile Rider' in the original novel) but one that has the dubious distinction of being the first 'Bond girl'. Ursula Andress's iconic first appearance in the film, emerging from the sea in a white bikini, was reprised by Halle Berry in Die Another Day.



17 Apres Ski

(Disco Volante, 2000)

A gloriously lush and sweepingly cinematic song that sounds like the soundtrack to an icily cool 60s romantic drama boiled down to four minutes. Opening line 'the radio’s on; it’s some jazzy 60s song' sets an appropriate tone for the melancholy narrative to follow.

It's a rueful tale of an older woman ('how many years has it been / since she was seventeen?') and her liaison with a much younger man ('she's flattered that someone so young’s so keen'). Despite her initial enthusiasm ('this kind of evening could be life enhancing'), things quickly go downhill and get a little sordid ('she sees the uneasy look on his face'; 'it’s over fast, although he tries to make it last').

Unusually for DLG, the story is told in the third person, and the objectivity that this brings (unlike in the movies, the encounter is 'disappointing', and she can't prove her cynical work colleagues wrong as she would in a typical '60s song') serves as a highly effective counterpoint to the rich soundtrack.



16 146 Degrees

(Disco Volante, 2000)

The title is a reference to the Cinerama widescreen process itself, which used three cameras to create an image that was three times as wide as a standard film and covered 146 degrees of arc, close to the human field of vision. 

As with 'Apres Ski', the influence of these cinematic approaches can be seen clearly in the song. There's an expansive, epic feel, created by the dramatic tremolo guitar, ethereal backing vocals, dizzying flute and grandiose strings. The bongos add a driving energy that make the song an ideal album/set opener.

The lyric deals with a fairly well-worn DLG trope (woman effortlessly - possibly unknowingly - becomes centre of attention (cf 'Because I'm Beautiful' and 'Your Charms')) but the fact that it's actually the narrator's girlfriend who asks how she does it is a nice twist. 

The dynamics of the song are great: it has understated opening that develops smoothly into the main riff; a delicate passage emerges around two-thirds of the way through that eventually erupts into a forceful and flamboyant coda.



15 Maniac

(Va Va Voom, 1998)

At first glance no more than a mid-tempo acoustic strum where a regretful ex-lover pleads for one more chance. Listening to the chorus, where the plaintive refrain of 'I’d do anything to bring you back home' overlays the shimmering guitar, you might imagine that - pretty as the melody is - this is a pretty standard 'I want you back' sort of affair. The song has a dark underbelly though. Behind the serene harmonies and gentle chords, it soon becomes clear that the narrator is more than regretful - he's borderline psychotic. 

Throwing out all his ex's books is bad enough, but swearing that he'll hire a hitman to take out her and new partner suggests that a restraining order may well be in order, especially when he explains it away as his way 'of showing you that I wasn’t playing'. If you were in any doubt about his state of mind, he goes on to describe invisible insects crawling on his skin. The contrast between this chilling narrative and the gentle warmth of the arrangement makes for a striking song.

The answerphone message at the beginning of the song features Lisa Prodromo, and was actually recorded, trans-Atlantically, over the phone.




14 Quick Before It Melts

(Torino, 2002)

Neither Va Va Voom nor Disco Volante are entirely devoid of intimate moments, but they are like prudish maiden aunts in comparison to Torino, which bubbles over with simmering lust and knowing sleaze.

'Quick' gets straight down to the earthy stuff, the narrator's drinking companion (very much not his girlfriend) proudly announcing that she's going commando in order to avoid 'leaving a stripe'. The music lurches between a sparse and nimble guitar arpeggio and scuzzy distorted thrash, reflecting the reeling drunk couple on the verge of taking advantage of 'it' before the moment is lost. The slightly incongruous strings add to the heady, intoxicating blend.

The song concludes with a gently atmospheric coda (something that would become a familiar feature on the next few TWP albums) that has a distinctly post-coital cigarette feel to it. Like 'Careless', you might criticise the slightly blunt and obvious chorus refrain, but overall it's a powerful piece of noisy erotic drama, perhaps best captured in the lines 'you put your hand onto the very place my girlfriend’s hand should be / you haven’t exactly got the kind of face that invites honesty'.


13 And When She Was Bad

(Torino, 2002)

As mentioned above (and in previous posts), Torino is a frankly rather horny album, and it opens with a piece of intense sexual jealousy. Friendly kisses linger longer than is appropriate, breasts are leered over (cf 'Sparkle Lipstick') and eventually hands are being thrust into shirts. 

I first heard this song travelling on the A64 from Scarborough with my dear friend Gricey aka Iggy (see the entry on 'Perfect Blue' here) to see Cinerama in Leeds. I was struck first by the gorgeous melody, but when everything crashed in at 1:16, I was completely transported. The layers of guitar, strings and distant feedback brought back so many memories of TWP at their finest; and then when a few extra pedals get stamped on at 1:53, it felt like a homecoming.


12 Dance, Girl, Dance

(Va Va Voom, 1998)

A captivating, romantic whirl, driven by a perfect marriage of sweeping strings and jangly guitar. There's the occasional clunky line ('all this cavorting is designed to tease'), but for the most part the lyric captures the excitement of infatuation evocatively: 'I know how you love dancing in that dress'; 'with every single touch / my love for you just doubles'.

The fact that all of this turns out to be only fantasy ('of course none of this has happened at all') just gives the song an extra tear-jerking quality. We've all had one of those 'what if...' imaginary relationships, and it's rarely been captured more successfully.



11 Starry Eyed

(Torino, 2002)

Whilst Torino retained many of the stylistic features of the first two Cinerama albums, it was significantly more hard-edged and TWP-like. 'Starry Eyed' is a prime example: although it has its refined moments (for example the little glockenspiel interlude at 2:06) it has a ragged, brutal energy that's reminiscent of Seamonsters, especially in the 'Suck'-like string-bending.

To a large extent the lyric takes a back seat to the dynamism of the music, in particular the excellent guitar work; it's also a fairly brief rumination on a rather well-worn topic ('I think you might be cheating on me', basically). That said, the economy of the language is effective, and 'why have you locked the bathroom door? / It’s not as if I haven’t seen you piss a thousand times before' is a powerfully striking opening line.

Overall, the song is taut, concise and exceptionally well paced; a perfect Cinerama/TWP transition moment.




See you next week for the top ten, for those of you going to Holmfirth - see you at the edge of the Peaks!

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