An amusing game you might like to try out - try to find all Beatles songs that begin with their chorus (preferably without listening to all their albums again, lest you have a whole day to spare). I haven't tried this on many other artists, as the Beatles belong to a very select group of bands whose entire catalogue I can nearly recall at will; consequently, its novelty may be severely lacking. But the genesis of this game was an analysis of...well, I can't give the name of the song, for that would spoil the game ;) Let's say an analysis of "an early song" of theirs, which thought that beginning with the chorus was pretty bold for its time.

Not terribly long ago, I might have treated the following as an aphorism: pretending to know all the answers isn't as bad as pretending to know all the questions. And the latter applied to me in spectacular fashion in the days of thunder and fire, so much so that it is genuinely hard to read anything I expressed at that time. The attempts to appear intellectual and philosophical strike me as incredibly hollow; victims of an old affliction of mine, which is being stricken with the image of something and not caring particularly for anything below its surface.

I've expressed earlier the desire to somehow talk all this over with the unfortunate victims of my treatment back then. But the time seems trapped in itself, a bad dream. I suspect that trying to revisit it will not conjure up dramatic images at all, but rather end up seeming rather bland and dreary. Is that an even worse fate?

Macca has made earned several mentions here over the years, and as is often my wont, I thought it interesting to track down the ones referring to Band on the Run. Seems I once thought the title track was the best, then "Let Me Roll It". Now, at the height of my powers, I imagine that the "final" verdict is that the best one is really the colossus that ends the whole thing, "1985". I'm not sure how many times one can change one's mind about such a thing, but that is the state of play as it stands.

So, I'm sometimes wrong. When you mostly live in your head, estimates about personality and character are quite easily off target. I still go a lot by initial judgments, and take my instinctive feelings about people to mean far too much than I ought to. He only needed to make a few simple lines for me to realize that he was far more complex than I had thought; and though I don't like to admit it, it's likely he's far more developed than I'll ever be. This realization isn't comforting at all, and I don't think that making it earns me anything. But I would like to acknowledge my wrong this one time.

Contrary to my initial estimates, it seem like there is a not-insignificant portion of lads my age who, like me, seem to wonder what it is that awaits us out there in the years to come. But that isn't really a cause for celebration. I wonder, are things really as bad as they feel on nights like these? I cannot imagine the generation before us facing this sort of existential turmoil. I think being spoilt for choice plays some role in all of this. It is a topic of perpetual interest to consider what exactly is going to become of all of us who wonder about where we're headed.

There are two questions that naturally arise when first understanding that Ween aren't a joke, and that Ween are good. First, isn't it a shame that such talent should be "wasted" on such a postmodern experiment? And second, is this the complete end of popular song?

The first question is to do with the fact that Ween have more musical and melodic talent than many of their peers: so much so that you think they could've made it big if they wanted to. I ask myself then whether it's a waste that they be deconstructing popular song to such an extent, devouring every manner of style without revealing anything about themselves. One can imagine many "earnest" rockers who come with noble goals and messages, but who, one must admit, do not seem to have mastered the act of songwriting like the Ween brothers. Wouldn't it be better if their talents were transferred to such an artist? What would we lose, really?

I'd say no, it wouldn't be better were their talents transferred, and they do have something to tell us after all. I'll admit I still feel it's a bit funny that such talent be possessed by lads who really don't fit the stereotype of "good musicians". I mean, look at their early song titles and you might place them as the juvenile college kids they're so not (well, they can be juvenile, but there is much more to them than just a pair of jokers). I wouldn't blame you, because the only reason it even entered my mind to consider them was the great GS's reviews. But we have to make peace with their strange dispositions, I think. As their later work demonstrates, they do care about the music. They don't write parodies as much as tributes, or even better, songs that are directly inspired by some older music which happens to be great. And, given their innate gifts, which turn out be pretty darn good themselves. I don't think we can ask more of the band than having love for what they do, and the styles they explore.

So even if these are good songs based on classic styles, what good is that? To answer what I see as the "worth" of the band, I have to look at the second question. This question is rather silly, but simply put asks whether we can reconcile the fact that we have a group that can write songs that hark back to the golden days, and yet so deliberately eschew honesty. Does this mean that we've greatly overestimated the place that "emotion", or belief in the music has? I think the answer has to be: certainly a little, but all is not lost. Again, the straight-faced later material demonstrates that there is some love for the oldies, which we can interpolate as transferring onto the songwriting process. But yes, it is true that by deconstructing popular song, they have revealed (to me, at least) that "honesty", if not completely imicable, can be facsimilied well enough. This is actually very interesting to think about, and purely on this basis alone I think we can see the "deeper" value in what they do. On more than one occasion I have been forced to ask myself what exactly I like about particular styles, because Ween confront me with what they see as its essential elements. Is a pretty melody and a set of..."plausibly heartfelt" lyrics really it for a good broken-hearted tune (I'm thinking of "It's Gonna Be Alright" here)? I don't have an answer to most of these questions, but I firmly believe that the reason Ween are able to pull this sort of thing off is that their understanding is combined with a care for the style and subject. This might be a fancy way of me trying to convince myself that "no, they're really serious after all", but it's nice that you have the opportunity to think so much about the music. Even if it isn't always in the same way one thinks about more traditional groups, there is a lot of pondering to be done on their songs, so all that considered - they're not bad on the stimulation front.

I'll admit that all of this merely says that Ween don't spell the end of popular song for me, and that after my initial concerns, I'm rather ok with their philosophy and inclinations now. I'd be lying, however, if I said I can completely submit to it, to the level where such deconstructionist-music can become a favourite. Yet I suppose one has to start somewhere. In Ween's case, getting past the awful "parody band" tag is (still, unfortunately) a good place to begin.

The most caustic, but funniest, thing anyone has said to me in a while.

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"Well, that's what I think - I hope there are no mistakes"
"Haha, you hope there are no mistakes? Your life is a mistake!"

I've mostly conquered the more nihilistic part of me, but that doesn't mean it's non-existent. The self-deprecation that most people come to know me by isn't a put-on for the most part, but probably closer to an outlet that decides to merge with my funny side. It's an attempt, I assume, to provide some amusement while simultaneously giving me catharsis; something for everyone! I've grown used to it as a stream in the background, and I don't take it all that seriously. Except on some off colour days, where it just seems like I've gotten up on the wrong side of the planet. Every fear and fallacy lodged in my head decides to spring out at this rare opportunity, and proceeds to make the day an obstacle that stands in the way of me lying in bed, sighing deeply, and hoping that the next is brighter. It invariably is, mind you; but there are times when I wonder where, and why, I'm going.

This is a little too close on the heels of the previous one, but as I was about to scrap the idea, it occured to me that there is a common thread here. These are all songs I was irritated with the first time around!

1) Ween, "Polka Dot Tail". After the dreamy title track from The Mollusk, I really wasn't in a mood to hear a slow, ambling piece with nonsense lyrics. I was quite surprised then when I started recalling this at odd moments, a sign that it was doing something right. I think the hallmark of quality here at the two solos, which, like quite a few of the tracks on The Mollusk, are wise. They don't give particular meaning to the words that surround it, but they manage to strip them of incongruity. You cannot hear this and take seriously any remarks that they are just a parody band.

2) Mamas And Papas, "I Call Your Name". The generic-blues piano progression at the beginning irritated straight away; I wanted harmonies, especially since this is after "Got A Feelin'". It took an old friend's recommendation for me to try it again, and as it happens, I saw the magic that somehow just passed me by the first few times. This is some tight stuff, and the flow is effortless. It is very interesting to hear Lennon's rawer original after this, as it demonstrates that it is a genuine reinterpretation, rather than mere dressing up with the M&P's pretty voices. I imagine that this is what Christgau refers to when he talks of the M&Ps having recorded one of the greatest Beatles covers ever.

3) Nick Cave, "Lyre Of Orpheus". Let's see if I can end these lists with Cave every time. With "Hiding All Away", I changed my mind about it midway through the song, but with "Orpheus", it was only a few weeks ago. It was certainly brave of Cave to write something like this: slow, lots of repetition, and most of all really "dangerous" rhymes (such as the well being very deep, very deep being the well, etc.). It indicates an immense amount of confidence in his songwriting, certainly, and on that level alone it is satisfying for me. But with time, it does start to resonate; though I haven't yet put it in the context of the whole album, I have started to feel that elements I thought were simply overcooked are in fact rather cleverly done. An educational piece of songwriting is the best way I can put it.

I saw her again, and...it was not a body that I recognized.