Sorry, readers, for missing an update during the busy holiday season. I know how hard it must have been when you realized an update wasn’t coming: after slaving in the kitchen for hours, the meatloaf had gone cold and I hadn’t even bothered to call and say there wouldn’t be a new song review. It was inconsiderate, but I’ve got an entry that will make up for that: the Belgian pop sensation of 1980, Lio.
At a quick glance, Lio’s catalogue seems rife with frivolous throwaways. The songs on her debut address such crucial topics as banana splits, baby vampires, and Speedy Gonzales, but in the tradition of bubblegum pop, there’s a lot of depth to her music. Like the Monkees and many others before her, her silly songs are backed by an impressive roster of songwriters: her first two albums were produced by Telex and
Before I go on about how amazing this track is, I want to speak for a second about word painting. Word painting is, basically, the art of using music to mirror the emotions or imagery set forward by the lyrics in a song. The example I always think up is Prince’s “Joy in Repetition.” In the song’s narrative, the subject goes to a nightclub, is entranced by the singer, and pulls her off the stage and out the side door to get to know her better. As they head out, it starts to rain; in fact, the line is, “In the alley over by the curb he said tell me what's your name / she only said the words again and it started to rain.” At the end of the line, Prince overdubs himself and adds backing vocals that say “Rain, rain, rain…” The back-ups are meant to further the image of the rain starting to fall, drop by drop. See? Word painting can be as easy as that. Though the compositional technique is almost as old as the concept of setting words to music, it’s hardly used today in an application more complex than making a sad song minor and slow and the happy songs major and fast.
I bring this up because “You Go To My Head” is an amazing example of word painting. Though the music doesn’t underscore the words as precisely as the Prince example, there’s clearly a great deal of thought about the meaning of the song and the emotions behind the lyrics. The song is about the uncomfortable act of falling in love with someone who might not reciprocate your feelings, and the lyrics oscillate between describing the excitement of this new, positive feeling and chiding the narrator for getting caught up in what’s likely to be a hopeless situation. The reverb-drenched keyboards approximate the drunken feeling of stumbling into love, while the throbbing bass provides a sinister anchor to underscore the haunting sensation described in the opening line. Most songs about love only address the positive or negative, but Haven Gillespie’s lyrics remind us that amidst the pleasurable feelings, love, especially when unrequited, can be frustrating if you can’t get your mind off the other person. Telex amplifies this theme with the juxtaposition of these two keyboard lines. As the song progresses, they continue to explore the emotional dissonance by layering a lush orchestra (vaguely reminiscent of the Sinatra version) over the synths, combining the organic with the inorganic.
It’s easier for Telex’s musical take to stand out to a listener than it is for Lio’s vocals. Why? Well, most musical performances of this song in the past have been quite standard and a bit bland, acting only as a vehicle for classic vocal performers. The interpretations have been left up to, say, Sinatra or Billie Holiday or Ella Fitzgerald or any other master of song of the 20th century that performed this song. It’s possible that Telex upped their game on this track, realizing that they were putting Lio in a position of direct comparison to these greats. Lio couldn’t possibly top her predecessors, so the music really had to shine.
If Lio had no chance of topping the likes of Ella, it’s not for lack of trying. She delivers an interesting and unique take on the lyrics, delivering them as plainly as possible. Her voice sounds matter-of-fact, and not giddy, as she runs through the emotions her object of desire’s making her feel. The chorus of “I say to myself / ‘Get a hold of yourself! / Can’t you see that it never can be?’” makes it apparent that she’s trying to force herself to get over this guy. The only emotion in the song is during the bridge; she sounds positively delighted as she sings “Though I’m certain that this heart of mine / hasn’t a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance.” It’s ironic, and feels as if she’s knows that she’s kidding herself.
As it stands, Lio’s catalog doesn’t seem to be in print in the
1 comment:
Why aren't those topics "crucial"? Or more "crucial" than, say, the topics of a protest song or a song about "issues"? And why is stuff to do with teenagers "nonsense"?
Post a Comment