Really Good Parts of Songs

Dope parts of songs and how they make me feel. Find the playlist here.

[reallygoodpartsofsongs]

Cable Ties - “Say What You Mean”

You know the part | Appears at 04:10

I’ve been in a shitty mood this week. I don’t know whether it’s because of festering late capitalism shaping every aspect of my life or whether it’s because I’m mad that I’m not succeeding in this tainted system better. I check my social media feeds and I’m hounded by auto-play videos made by KFC or PwC that are specifically designed to make me empathise with their brand. I feel sick.

Last week I went to a ‘video making’ class that my work paid for. It wasn’t so much about the technicalities of making a good video, but instead it was about how to best use people (‘characters’ according to the class) to tell the stories of brands. One of the examples was a healthcare company using footage of a father holding back tears because his daughter had been involved in an accident overseas and almost died. He choked telling his story, while a tag at the end promptly reminded us to get good health coverage. Don’t forget you could die at any minute! So could your family!  

I’m a human being! We’re not a character to be used in your brand’s video. It’s especially disheartening because we all know this is nothing new. Tragedy is a commodity and we’re all complicit. Cable Ties know and they’re furious. So furious they had to stop singing and just yell about it instead.

I’m complicit. I am a cog in this ageing machine. It’s great and it’s also terrible. I get paid pretty well and I get paid to write about interesting things for an organisation whose morals align mostly with my own. Baby, I educate the world. But we use the same tactics to get people to choose us over others. When did we become nothing more than the sum of all our parts?

 We target young people with content. We look at what they like and what they’re going to like and we exploit it. We’ve got your data and we’re here to help you. Choose us! We understand you! No one is any better than anyone and we’re all awful.

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Future and The Weeknd - “Comin Out Strong” 

When Future goes, “The only time I feel alive is when I taste dick”, probably | Appears at 01:40

Look, yeah, I know that Future probably isn’t saying this, but it doesn’t really matter. I want to believe. It’s also on a song a called “Comin Out Strong” and I am so here for that. As A Proud Gay, this line gives me extreme happiness that cannot be matched. Imagine if Future actually said this, or for that matter, if any of the world’s biggest MCs said this. I.m.a.g.i.n.e. 

Sucking dick isn’t funny, but whenever I hear this line I laugh. At least internally. This the type of line to give people life. Future understands. We all wanna fee alive. 

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Some of the best music moments from 2016

Chance’s verse on Kanye’s “Ultralight Beam” is monumental. It gave me life whenever I thought I was running out of it in 2017.

‘Fuck your white horse and a carriage’ and Rihanna’s overall swagger on “Needed Me” made it the perfect soundtrack to the act of setting photos of your ex on fire. Something I’ve never done, but if I did I would be shouting (quietly singing along in my apartment) to this lyric. It’s venomous.

ZAYN’s use of ‘Allah’ on “Pillowtalk” is barely noticeable if you’re not paying attention, but a mention, yet a lone affirmation, of Islam in a pop song still feels groundbreaking in 2016.

The ascending vocal melody of ‘cry-ai-ai-ai’ in the chorus of Carly Rae Jepsen's “Cry” is the ultimate best vocal moment of the year that I can’t sing along with. Seriously, this girl is a hook-making genius.

The entire beat on Schoolboy Q’s “THat Part” is parts fresh, spooky and exciting. No matter that the verses don’t really do it justice, as this beat is good enough to carry the entire song.

The extreme sense of melancholy and disappointment running through The Goon Sax’s “Home Haircuts” is heavily relatable to me, a grown adult that has the emotional range of a teenager.

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Frank Ocean - “Self Control”

The outro | Appears at 2:55

I’m still not sure how I feel about Frank Ocean’s Blond(e). Is it a masterpiece of subtlety and restraint or is it simply afraid to commit fully to any of the ideas it presents? It’s album built on moments of brilliance and introspection as opposed to cohesive pop songs. In the right mindset this can be brilliant, as each song is a complete story that relies on narrative to present a sense of cohesion, but for those craving the more straightforward sounds and hooks of Ocean’s earlier work, it’s frustrating. A lesson in leaving expectations at the door, I guess.

“Self Control” is a great song because it combines the subtlety that Ocean is striving for on Blond(e) and pairs it with one of the most overtly stunning hooks on the album. Smartly, Ocean doesn’t place this hook as the chorus, he places it in the outro. As soon as “Self Control” is over, you want to hear it again. Hear the story again about how Ocean began to question a relationship and literally lose his self control. This outro is one of the few times on the album where Ocean really does let loose, embracing a larger sound, and that what makes it so powerful.

The contrast between this loaded outro and the simple guitar/vocal combination that precedes it is magical. It’s magicial because it doesn’t come out of nowhere, it slowly builds with you barely noticing. “Self Control” adds layer upon layer until it reaches this desperate climax. Lyrically and musically. 

“I know you’ve gotta leave”, sings a desperate Ocean. Not once, but repeatedly. It becomes a mantra and a way for Ocean to cope with this situation. It eventually fades out as Ocean is defeated, although a new story begins directly afterwards because life goes on with whoever we choose.

[reallygoodpartsofsongs]

Sufjan Stevens - “Impossible Soul”

The autotuned verse | Appears 10:25 to 13:00

I’ve been listening to “Impossible Soul” a lot lately and think it might be an underrated masterpiece. Coming right at the time where the press unfortunately started to tire of Sufjan and indie music, The Age of Adz is a strangely overlooked, deeply weird slice of indie pop and a startling prediction at where indie music would end up; polished, exciting and ashamed of guitars. “Impossible Soul” is this entire album condensed into 25 minutes of bliss. As it dances its way through movements and sonic environments, it has soft landings and harder ones. It’s when that autotune kicks in that it becomes truly exhilarating.

“Stupid man in the window, I couldn't be at rest · All my delight, all that mattered, I couldn't be at rest. From what I liked, from what I gathered, I couldn't be at rest Stupid man in the window, I couldn’t at rest”

I remember trying to emulate Sufjan’s vocoded hook in 2010. 808s & Heartbreak had dropped ages ago and autotune was pretty well accepted as an artistic flourish by this point, at least by people who knew anything about music. It was so well accepted that the app store was full of apps letting you sound like a second-rate T-Pain. While staying in the spare room of my parents’ house for the summer, I had filled the room with a shitty guitar and a shittier amp. I wasn’t really getting anywhere with music though, especially because I became obsessed with this hook and emulating it on my chosen vocoder app. I would sing it into the app and play it back to hear my voice autotuned. I would do this for what felt like days, trying my best to emulate the exact pitch and tone of Sufjan. It became a mantra.

“Stupid man in the window, I couldn't be at rest · All my delight, all that mattered, I couldn't be at rest. From what I liked, from what I gathered, I couldn't be at rest Stupid man in the window, I couldn’t at rest”

Coming to terms with yourself is an underlying theme of pretty much all of Sufjan’s work, or it could be argued more specifically, coming to terms with queerness is. Sufjan is a man deeply at odds with himself, and he’s not ashamed to let you know about it. You can hear the desperation in his voice as it breaks through the autotune, emotion overtakes computer. Interestingly is how similar the use of autotune here is to its use in the full-length version of Kanye’s “Runaway”, a song on an album that came out only a about a month after this. Both songs feature vocoder driven breakdowns where feelings hit a breaking point and can only be expressed as a glitch of the brain. Sufjan’s feels like a point of resolution that leads into happier movement, while Kanye’s just leads to further self-destruction. Breaking points don’t always lead us to rock-bottom.

“Stupid man in the window, I couldn't be at rest · All my delight, all that mattered, I couldn't be at rest. From what I liked, from what I gathered, I couldn't be at rest Stupid man in the window, I couldn’t at rest”

In 2011 when I first became obsessed with this song, I was still coming to terms with myself. I was out sure, but what did that mean for my actual life? How was I going to live my life as a gay man? I couldn’t be at rest. I was struggling with my reflection and more importantly, how I was going to be perceived by the rest of world. So I sang this mantra into my phone and played it back. At the time I don’t think I realised how deeply at odds my perception of self and my outside self were, and I’m still not sure these concepts really align. I couldn’t be at rest and I don’t think I have been since.  

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Death Cab for Cutie - “The New Year”

“I wish the world was flat like the old days and I could travel just by folding the map” | Appears at 02:25

For all the shit people give Ben Gibbard for his often overwrought sentimentality and self-pity, sometimes he gets it just right. It sticks. Sure, his early 00s emo boy aesthetic is at odds with a contemporary culture that simultaneously urges men to speak out about their feelings and one that is also sick of straight white men’s opinions. And by a culture, I mean the small sliver of culture that I exist in. The swirl of tweets and thinkpieces that make up a bubble that always feels on the verge of bursting but never does. But occasionally gems are able to stick with you, regardless of how hokey they may sound.

This isn’t Gibbard singing about glove compartments as an awkward metaphor - which at the time I thought was very smart - but instead, it’s a simple way of expressing a longing for someone too far away to reach. It’s an obvious meaning, but it’s also a lovely visual image. Does anyone picture the map animations from Indiana Jones movies? Or perhaps doing that thing at school where you used teabags and a stove to make letters you wrote, or maps you drew, appear older?

It’s also completely nostalgic and false. Wishing for a time that never actually existed and for a concept that’s never been true (obviously). This is completely in line with Gibbard’s view of relationships; invented drama, longing glances, cinematic gestures and a host of things that probably never really happened. They only happened in his mind. But that doesn’t matter because they sound romantic as heck.

“The New Year” is a grandiose song until the verse this lyric appear. Suddenly there’s a sense of urgency, as the guitars get jangly and the drums get serious. It’s crashing back to earth. But Gibbard is still just as desperate to invent histories as always. He’s just wanting this reality more than the others. And for people who live away from loved ones, it’s a wish we can all relate too.

[reallygoodpartsofsongs]

That hectic 30-second intro | Appears at 00:00 (obviously)

Whether it’s that caustic riffing matching perfectly with the drums, that hammer-heavy guitar line or just the spaces in the between where you can feel the air rushing in the studio, this 30 seconds is so full of energy that it’ll make you feel older than reading a Buzzfeed article about how old you are. Or if you let it, it’ll make you feel young and almost alive again. But only if you let it.

This is the sound of teenagers bottling Energy. Listen to the way the snare drum is smashed. Fuck. It’s a miracle that something so pure can exist. Teetering on the edge of amateurism with brashness was what has always made Arctic Monkeys interesting. There’s a skill beneath everything they’ve done, even when it sounds like it’s all about to go off the rails. Like just look at this intro then leading into one of the best guitar pop songs of the last couple decades.

You were not expecting that, I bet.  

[reallygoodpartsofsongs]

The Christmas-esque chiming | First appears from 00:27

Is this warped jingle bell chime the sound of Fifth Harmony finally finding their feet? Ignore the previous outings where they were on the cusp of the coveted pop banger, “Work from Home” is them finally reaching the status of Certified Classic.

Sounding like a sexy Christmas carol, this the type of banger you can play December 25. And all year round. The ultra-noticeable bells give it a signature flavour, propelling it out of the sultry sheets of RnB and into the saccharine stratosphere of pop. Everyone’s voice soars over this kind of light.

You can point your finger in the air to each note of these chimes. Try it. Picture the notes in the sky and pop them like glistening bubbles. It’s joyous. It’s not work at all.  

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“Everyone ages so much quicker in the country” | Appears at 01:48

Growing up in a regional city is kind of weird. Like, you’re not quite country, you’re not quite suburban and you’re definitely not city. The closest thing is probably country, but even that feels like a stretch. Like, I don’t know how to milk a cow or how it feels to rely on tank water. Socially though it’s pretty accurate, particularly as I get older. People grow up fast. And it’s especially noticeable when you’ve moved to city, only to visit home and realise everyone from high school got married while you weren’t looking.

It is kind of true after all, everyone does age more quickly in the country. People seem in a rush to settle down and replicate the situations they grew up in. This is no bad thing, finding someone to love, marry and have children with is great probably. Most people in life eventually follow this path, it just comes a little earlier to some people. Maybe it’s an easier path to follow when there are less options, or less distractions, but it doesn’t feel like an achievable path for everyone.

The point I’m struggling with now is not that everyone ages so much quicker in the country, it’s that everyone ages so much quicker than me. My friends from high school who never left my hometown have already grown up, but the ones who left ‘for the city’ are growing up now and it’s terrifying.

It was easier when it was just my friends ‘in the country’ that were adults, at least then I could compartmentalise it all. Right now, I can defer responsibility from myself by pointing out that it’s all my straight friends who are entering adulthood. No matter how far they stray from the path of growing up, they’ll most likely find it again. They’ll settle down, have kids and hopefully be happy because that’s what they know. That’s what reflected back at them every day. But what the fuck am I supposed to do?  

Gay futures and gay families are so sparingly represented in media and society that I’m at a loss for understanding my future. Maybe I can co-opt the lifestyle of my country friends, or maybe I’m just not made for that. Having a path to follow can be restrictive I’m sure, but it must be reassuring. Look, I just don’t know. What I do know that is everyone in the country is grown up by now and everyone else has plans too. I guess I’ll just keep ignoring my future.

[reallygoodpartsofsongs]

When Jai sings the “homage” to Haddaway’s “What is Love” in the chorus | First appears 00:48

Every generation reaches a point where they can trot out the whole “there are no new ideas anymore”, or the effortlessly dismissive “music isn’t as good as it used to be”, yet we all know these are boring, terrible and untrue criticisms. Will we ever actually come to the point where it is true? We do seem to be reaching a point where nostalgia takes precedence over new ideas, but it’s not quite that simple. This is the reboot generation, baby. And that’s not always a bad thing.

Do you think Jai Waetford even especially likes Haddaway or “What is Love”? If not, does it even matter? I bet you never saw the original Ghostbusters and here you are crying that women are ruining the new one. You didn’t even know that Oceans 11 is a fucking remake, you idiot. 

Ignorance can be a key factor in making art, as it brings sincerity, proving that you truly believe you’re creating something new. Even if that honesty is a fallacy, it really doesn’t matter. You believe it to be true, and so it is.

I’m not even saying that Waetford doesn’t know who Haddaway is, I’m just saying it shouldn’t have to matter to him. It matters to me, as it makes the hook undeniable. Partially from the power of nostalgia but partially from the absolutely sincerity of Waetford’s vocal delivery.  

Someone appropriating from the past and giving to a new generation is an easy target, and it’s especially complex when it’s a pretty white boy taking from a black man (which I’m sure someone more qualified than me could write oodles about), but for now we can just enjoy the return of this legendary hook.

Who knows how it came to be, let’s just sit back and bask. This is all too perfect and I hope teens are discovering it for the first time, because they deserve to enjoy the past too. No matter how it’s packaged.

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The sound of that open guitar string right before the drums kick in | Appears 00:03

Making acoustic guitar sound interesting, or even remotely noticeable, is pretty hard. Most of the time, particularly in indie music, it’s simply a vehicle. Something that gets a song from the start to the end, but you don’t really notice it. It’s just underneath the lyrics and all that other cool shit that really make you feel things.

Don’t get me wrong, acoustic guitar can be integral. But is it exciting? Does it pique your interest? Sometimes yeah, it can be technically beautiful, intricate, moving. But sonically exciting? Rarely. You might debate this lousy sound of an open guitar string is even remotely interesting. Maybe you prefer the banjo in the background, which is admittedly lovely. Or maybe you’ve never even noticed this.

But I love it. Just the deep twang of the open string that perfectly closes with the arrival of the drums. It’s one of those sounds that you can play out with your hands. It’s a bit of an eye closing moment, that then opens your eyes wide to the rest of the song. It’s just a bit special.  

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The “I broke up with my boyfriend” refrain in the chorus | First appears at 01:05

So joyful. So happy. So free. Kick that boy to the curb, Carly. There’s better things to worry about after all. Death, your career, never retiring, never being able to afford a house in this property crisis, general mental health - so many things more important than boys.

If you’re going to take pleasure in something that’s notoriously bad and depressing, you may as well tell everyone about it. In fact, tell them in the chorus of your song and then half a second later in cool little refrain in each chorus. This is so monumental you’ve really gotta let the joy in your voice have another go around each time. Carly knows what’s good.

An extra Really Good Part is after the final “I broke up with my boyfriend” in the first chorus (keep up), there’s a little “yeah!” that is just wonderfully optimistic. I don’t think Carly is telling you to break up with your boyfriend, but she is saying that life goes on and when you’re single you can probably party harder.

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The keyboard solo/breakdown bit | Appears at 03:15

In a high school photography class, between developing some rolls of film loaded with emotional black and white photos, I remember having a friend telling me that Wolfmother’s “Mind’s Eye” was one of the ‘greatest Australian songs of all time’. I was inclined to agree. And while I don’t exactly hold this view anymore, it’s still a classic piece of Australian Music History and a perfect snapshot of guitar music’s obsession with recreating the past. But ignoring all of that, how cool is the keyboard solo bit in the middle?

When I was seventeen I tried to see Wolfmother play at a local club (Karova forever!), but they wouldn’t let me in using my older brother’s ID. I was pretty devastated, I argued (unsuccessfully) with the bouncer for ages. How dare they crush my teen dreams! In hindsight me and my brother don’t look too alike - he doesn’t even have braces - so I can see where this guy was coming from, but still. Luckily for me, I saw Wolfmother play a few different times after this, most memorably at a Big Day Out. Seeing Wolfmother live was basically a rite of passage for an Australian music fan of my age and it was pretty great, but what I really remember the most was how Chris Ross played the keys.

Ross treated his keyboard like rockstars usually treat their guitars. With reckless abandon. Or as much reckless abandon as is possible when you’re talking about a man using a really heavy keyboard. He smashed the shit out of that thing, leaned back on it, play it from weird angles - he tried to make it look cool. As a teenager it was a revelation. As an adult (in a way) it’s a fond memory. I am still impressed with the amount of energy Ross was able to expel through keys. Most evident on his solo bit in the middle of “Mind’s Eye”.

I love how it’s played as confrontational. Every other instrument cuts out and then bam, keys! I love how musically, it’s extraordinary simple. Basically a scale played over and over very fast. Then guitars come crashing back in and wow, man, this is a real life musical rollercoaster. This is cool af. I also remember learning to play it on my sister’s keyboard and feeling like a bad-arse. Super cool.

[reallygoodpartsofsongs]

Use of the word ‘lost’  | Appears throughout

To talk about how Camp Cope uses the word ‘lost’ in “Lost (Season One)” is to effectively talk about the whole song, so technically this entry is cheating a bit. Sure, it may just be one part of it, but it’s one of those things where one part really does equal the whole. While we all feel a bit lost at times, isn’t that also a perfect way to also sum up how we feel our entire lives?   

But first up, can we talk about the use of the word lost in reference to the TV show? Mostly because Lost was truly a turning point for modern television, and a perfect example of how mainstream audiences have learnt how to understand complex narratives as second nature over the past century. Also how the show’s title perfectly describes the characters and the showrunners. Lost is one of the most lost things of all times, is beautiful because of it and the perfect pop culture companion for this song.

We get lost in relationships and can’t remember who we were. We lose our past and we lament. We get lost while searching for something to do with our lives. The cry of millennials is that we’re lost. But that’s too convenient to pin being lost as outright a negative. “We’re still living like dogs in space, lost and so little direction”, comes off as defiant, a counter-culture cry that embraces living in the now no matter how messy life is.  

There’s no sense of defeat at any point in “Lost (Season One)”. Sure, it’s blunt, desperate and sad at times, but it’s never without hope. Being lost is a necessary part of life and Georgia Maq knows it. Just because we might be lost doesn’t mean that we’re going to stop trying, and we know that there’s no point keeping it a secret.  

[reallygoodpartsofsongs]

Kanye West - Ultralight Beam

Listen on Tidal. 

When Chance goes “I met Kanye West, I’m never going to fail” and he really means it | Appears at 03:18** **

I’ve been thinking a lot about Kanye lately. Mostly because it’s impossible not to be reminded of him on a minute-to-minute basis if you spend any time on the internet, and partially because I’m really worried he’s actually becoming the menace the public has been trying to paint him as. 

Regardless of the quality of The Life of Pablo (it’s good), it feels like Kanye’s celebrity persona has finally taken precedence over his music. Which sucks, ‘cause dude really needs to chill the fuck out and let his music do the talking for him. Kanye’s always been so much better at expressing himself in lyrics than in tweets. That much seems fairly obvious these days.   

But despite being problematic as fuck and kind of dick, Kanye has always been a symbol of extreme confidence and success - in his music and in the public eye. Regardless of how he presents that confidence (eg. like a dick sometimes), it is a powerful thing for a lot of people to latch onto. As a person who is not that confident, and usually quite reserved, it has been helpful to me in my own creative pursuits. Not giving a fuck about other people is a difficult place to reach. 

I remember reading somewhere - this may not even be true - that one of the first albums Chance ever got was The College Dropout. It made him want to be a musician. Imagine ‘lil baby Chance dreaming of one day meeting Kanye, and then one day he’s on his album delivering one of its standout moments. That’s a pretty fucking cool moment.

Kanye’s confidence can be intoxicating. Listen to the way that Chance delivers this line. There’s oomph, there’s such pride and there’s the underlying belief that it really is true. Once you’ve worked with Kanye, you’re not gonna fail. He gives you the confidence to succeed in whatever you’re doing.You hear that in every line of Chance’s verse in “Ultralight Beam”, but you really feel it in this one part.

I’m sure Chance isn’t lacking in confidence, the guy has been on a roll basically since high school, but he sounds especially invigorated here. Picture him in the studio recording this line right in front of his teenage hero, picture Kanye reacting (maybe even smiling!) and imagine how Chance felt right in that moment. That’s the kind of confidence that doesn’t come easy.        

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“steamin’ on up like ramen soup” | Appears at 00:37

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The main guitar line | Runs throughout

Guitar is best when it’s not complicated. Like, almost every time I play guitar I seem to play this guitar line or a variation of it. My fingers just naturally just want to go there, as if drawn by the familiarity. This is a simple, evocative way to carry an entire song. The lack of variation only helps draw attention to the other important elements. Like, the vocals and lyrics or whatever.  

I’ve always liked music that lures you in with repetition. I’m sure I’ve written about it here before, but there’s something hypnotic about music that doesn’t move much. You can put yourself right in the centre of it, letting it circle around you like a very calming vortex. It helps you imagine things without getting anxious. Getting swept up in other things is so easy, but it’s so reassuring to have an anchor to what matters.

Mike Sapone’s production needs to be mentioned here, because it lets the guitar sit perfectly amongst everything else. There’s space between all instruments in “Jesus Christ” and the reverb is just moody enough to make you picture a swamp shrouded in dark green. It’s post-emo, baby. Brand New owe so much to this Sapone. We all do.