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Old 01-05-2015, 05:59 AM   #10 (permalink)
blackdragon123
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8. It's Raining Again from "...Famous Last Words..." [1982]

I previously stated that Last Words was the band preparing itself for a break-up, as tensions rose and the creative spark that flared so brightly between Davies and Hodgson began to dampen. That said, Last Words also features the band at their most casually brilliant, in a way that's been mistaken by critics for laziness. ‘It’s Raining Again’ is the most blatant example of the band tackling a negative issue with a sense of buoyancy and wit. It is by no means the most intelligent or innovative of Tramp’s songs, but ‘Raining Again’ scores so highly because of its sheer sense of jovial energy. The song lets loose a flood of movement and excitability as soon as the saxophone breaks the silence from the previous song. This is Supertramp flexing their pop-music muscle, and the impeccable vocals, crisp piano and irresistible melody place the band as contenders for such accolade studded melody merchants as Lennon & McCartney. The song deals loosely with the loss of a friend or a loved one, but attacks it with an almost comical sense of happiness that makes it impossible not to enjoy. Only once does the song dip to melancholy, before continuing its skipping-rope tempo, leading to its chirpy synth outro. ‘Raining Again’ floats on a weightless high, and its concluding saxophone solo never fails to put a smile on this fan’s face. There is something hilarious about the way it discusses tragedy, and it’s something I can’t quite put my finger on, and perhaps I’d be better off not knowing. It was the first Tramp song I fell in love with, and I think I always will love it.


9. Remember from Indelibly Stamped [1971]

Indelibly Stamped is totally unique in the Supertramp catalogue, as it shows the transition from the band’s prog-rock besotted debut, and lays the foundations for the band’s signature, rich sound that was born fully on Crime of the Century. But unfortunately, transition albums like Stamped are often forgotten about, and only the pop single ‘Your Poppa Don’t Mind’ makes its way onto ‘best-of’ records. But the folky influences, and low-key, little England style song-writing on the album allow the listener to hear the band branch into different genres, that give them more in common with bands like Jethro Tull thanks to songs like ‘Potter’ and ‘Aries’. Supertramp may not have the effortless quirkiness of Ian Anderson, but in ’71 they made an album studded with gems, and ‘Remember’ provides what could be Davies’ best vocal performance. Heavy with the sax and rough with production, it’s a song with blatant influence from The Rolling Stones, and yet the sleazy, rough n’ ready musicianship mixes very successfully with the belted, unrefined singing, and binds to create a Supertramp classic. There’s a real passion on this track that’s not overdone or cheapened by time. You’ll never hear the band play like this on any other album, and how anyone ever considered this to be a weakness I’ll never know. The live feel of the song carries an infectious energy, and Davies’ delivery might not be as whisky-soaked and slick as Jagger’s, or as gruff as Anderson’s, but there is real power here, let loose without the reined in meticulousness of the band’s following releases. What’s great about the period from which these classic bands come from is that their consistent releases allow their fans to see their growth and progression through time, and Indelibly Stamped is an album showing a band growing up, who are light on their feet, lean and not yet indelibly stamped as a pop, rock or prog band. ‘Remember’ is a defiant piece, and its lion’s roar vocals ensure that it is delivered with pride.

10. Goodbye Stranger from Breakfast in America [1979]

‘You can laugh at my behaviour, that’ll never bother me,
Say the Devil is my saviour, but I won’t pay no heed,
And I will go on shining; shining like brand new,
I’ll never look behind me; my troubles will be few.’

Has there ever been a more perfectly worded statement of defiance in a song? I’m going to go out on a limb and say ‘probably not’. ‘Goodbye Stranger’ is one of the band’s most well-loved songs, and its reputation is not unfairly gained. Written as the manifesto for the youthful libertine that strives within us all, it is a track that flaunts a charming kind of arrogance. There’s a real cheek to the lyrics, and the punchy delivery of the lines conjures the idea of true and unchallenged freedom. It builds in signature Supertramp style, always governed by that spritely dance of the piano keys, which lead us to a fantastic duet-style between Davies and Hodgson; complimenting the completely different voices possessed by the two singers. This is Supertramp moving as the perfectly well-oiled machine, a machine that manages to grab melody and too-clever catchiness from nowhere to delight and enlighten. The guitar is always considered to be the champion instrument of rock ‘n’ roll, but Supertramp’s trust in piano playing pays off, as they manage to make that instrument sweat sleaze, sadness, joy and romance all in the same song. ‘Stranger’’s outro may be a slight niggle, as the guitar work lacks direction and finesse, but I think we’ll always be willing to forgive it, in the wake of those oh-so fantastic choruses. If it were up to me, I’d have those above lyrics carved on my gravestone, as no other collection of words manages to dismiss criticism, hostility and judgement by our peers with such ease and casualness. It’s inclusion in its entirety in the aptly quirky Magnolia will remain the film’s best scene in this writer’s humble, and is a tribute to the band’s cinematic competence and skill for narrative music.


11. Poor Boy from Crisis? What Crisis? [1975]

Crisis? is an album that is sometimes naively criticised as lacking the spark and creative brilliance of Crime of the Century, and this observation (incorrect as it may be) reveals the two sides of Supertramp, who either make albums comprised of moments, or albums comprised of moods. The latter, such as Stamped, Last Words and Crisis? are (IMO) the more timeless and rewarding in the long-run, as they produce a flow of music that rarely dips, and doesn’t rely on a magnum opus or a handful of popular champions to carry their weight.
Crisis? has few standout tracks, but ‘Poor Boy’ is definitely one of them. Written as a love song to serenade the simple life, the vocals have a shaky vulnerability, which makes its message all the more powerful. The calm jazzy undertones that become clear towards the song’s conclusion produce a sense of contentedness, and as with so many of Tramp’s songs, there is a feeling that Davies and co. are living their words, and the sincerity is always comforting. From an album with so many contrasting tempos and moods, ‘Poor Boy’ arrives as a steadily perfect, sharply produced pick-me-up, which harks back to their early 70s naivety and sense of fun. The song is not dissimilar to the themes expressed in ‘From Now On’, but also feels entirely different, as the heavy-hearted gravity of its more melancholy brother is replaced by a lovable foolishness and self-confidence. It also seems quite apt, as the band never managed to reach the heights of super-stardom in the same way that similar bands like Pink Floyd did, and their nonchalant dismissal of their modest place in life is an contagious and refreshing attitude, expressed in a stunning track.

12. C'est le Bon from "...Famous Last Words..." [1982]

Much like ‘School’ did at the beginning of Crime of the Century, ‘C’est le Bon’ acts as a smart-Alec protest song against the oppressive influence of adulthood on the minds and hearts of the young and free. The champion of this track is its lyric, and the flow and ebb of the rhymes wash together so perfectly that it almost feels like magic. It’s hard not to smile, or even laugh when Hodgson regales us with his little story, about the time when;

‘I took a tip from the man from the ministry,
He said, “My son, better work in the factory”,
Well, there were days I can tell you quite honestly,
I saw myself winding up in the military,’

In an age of financial worry and political apathy; where our parents, who grew up in the age of rock ‘n’ roll’s golden age begin to grow into the same conservative attitudes that so oppressed their youth and young adulthood, this song takes on a new and alarming relevance. It seems to many of my generation that those who have lost the memory of what it was like to be young, throw the blame and rhetoric upon the shoulders of those they were trying to make a more free future for. It’s a song about being forced to choose between the advice of your elders and the belief in yourself, and casts the casual joking aside for a more bluntly honest confession of rebellion against mundane reason. The vocals are sung with almost a whisper, as if disclosing a forbidden secret, and an invite into a world of chance, where you can embrace the unknown if you’re brave enough to try. This song is so poignant and inspiring because it comes at the end of the band’s golden era, where if their mark has not been made by now, then it will never be made, and blurs the lines of age, as the clever verses are answered by the simple, almost child-like choruses. The distant instrumental segments of the song capture that sense of loss and insecurity that governs so much of our youth, and for that, I salute it.


13. Another Man's Woman [Live] from It Was the Best of Times [1997]

Does this one count? It probably shouldn’t, as I would not include the studio version of this track, which originally featured on Crisis? but this song was made to be played live, and it’s just too god-damn good to ignore. What the live version manages to express in a far superior way is a sense of anger, which is defined by the erratic changes of tempo, all the while led by the older sounding, less delicate delivery of the lyrics, which tear through the whole mad nine minutes of the song with an unforgiving speed. It, combined with the commanding fluidity of the piano playing, and the sound of the cheering crowd make this song of lost love and resentment one written for all the betrayed lovers in the world. Supertramp play to the crowd, and show their ability for improvisation and variety in a way that’s not audible on any other kind of record. There are segments of patience (and even silence), that are then crushed by walls of sparking guitar, jazz-drumming and then majestic piano playing before the singing makes its return. The power of the band to introduce a vague story about betrayal and heartbreak, and then let the music carry that story through the imagination of its listeners is something to truly be admired, and once again Supertramp demonstrate that they manage to stand at the very forefront of a song that has become the defining genre for so many other lesser deserving bands. The grizzled voice of Davies perfectly defines the nature of turbulent love affairs in this song, and lines like,

‘Round and round we always go,
First it’s yes and then it’s no,’

only feel to be ringing true when heard live.


14. Rudy from Crime of the Century [1974]

‘Rudy’ is one of the darkest and most deeply cutting songs in rock and pop history…there, I said it. Its insight into the male psyche and the foolish illogic that so many of us cling to in life is nothing short of astounding. It acts as almost a psychological study as much as a song, and the tragic character of Rudy is one that every one of us can relate to in some way or another. His personality is completely exposed, isolated and dissected by the band in such an unflinching way that it’s hard not to feel true sympathy for this poor character, who is unable to overcome the narcissism and arrogance of youth in order to discover true happiness in life. Cinematic Supertramp is put to good use here, as the spoken word interlude on the train to Bristol Temple Meads gives a sense of reality, of travelling loneliness and a clash of emotions over Rudy’s desire to be free and to find love.
The song opens with the line;

‘Rudy’s on a train to nowhere,
Halfway down the line,’

And from then on a ceaseless bout of confessions and reveals about this poor sad character take us on a journey through our own foolish hearts as well as his. Maybe not all of us project ourselves with the same degree of sincerity on to poor old doomed Rudy, but of all the characters in music history, he stands as one of the most tragic and beautifully crafted. The band’s piano work here is sympathetic, but also oppressive, and eventually the song erupts with a climax of chanting choruses, before it soon slinks back into melancholy, and Rudy vanishes from our lives once more. There is a cold resonance as the song fades out and we are left alone to contemplate it. On an album so pre-occupied with imprisonment and the desire for freedom, Supertramp show us our worst oppressor is often ourselves.
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__________________
'Well, I'm a common working man,
With a half of bitter, bread and jam,
And if it pleases me, I'll put one on ya man,
When the copper fades away!'
- Jethro Tull

Last edited by blackdragon123; 01-12-2015 at 09:15 AM.
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