Tag Archives: Zach Hill

Underrated Drum Tracks I have Loved 2014, Part 7 – I Give Up – Quasi

My last few posts have been in praise of drummers who played for the song. The strength of Earl Young’s performance on Didn’t I (Blow Your Mind this Time) is the well-placed, authoritative backbeat. The more I’ve played with drummers as a songwriting guitarist, or as a drummer with another songwriter, the more I’ve valued that skill. While the title of this series of posts is slightly tongue in cheek, the skill involved in playing a simple groove with precision and a good feel that works for the song is something I’ve come to appreciate more with each passing year.

Teenage wannabe drummers don’t get it, of course. It’s all about notes per second. I understand that. I do. As a teenage guitarist, I considered myself above appreciating ‘shred’ guitarists, being more attracted to noise-mongers on one hand and ‘feel’ players on the other. But as a music fan who understood a little bit about drums from playing bass in a high school band, I loved to hear drummers playing loads of really cool fills, preferably ones with a lot of notes, so to speak. And in 1998-99, no one I listened to played more cool fills than Janet Weiss, particularly on the Quasi album Featuring “Birds”.

It sounded like no other record I’d heard. Sam Coomes wrote fragmentary, snarky little songs and then covered them in huge, gunky layers of distorted Rocksichord. Janet Weiss’s drums, meanwhile, were frantic, full of nervous twitchy energy, but with the confidence to fill every available space in the songs.

Quasi were a 2-piece – organ/vocals and drums/vocals – so there was a lot of space. Weiss had no bass player to lock in with, no lead guitarist to give room to. In any other style of music, to play as Weiss did on Featuring “Birds” would have to be considered overplaying. With Quasi, she had almost no restrictions, even fewer than with Sleater-Kinney, so the fun in listening to Featuring “Birds” for me was the wacky shit Weiss would throw in there.

I Give Up is a great example of their Featuring “Birds”-era style. It starts off with a melodic theme played by Sam Coomes on the organ with the right hand on the organ, no vocals, while his left hand plays a wandering, rising-and-falling bass line. The tone is distorted, and there’s some fun dissonance in there to stop everything sounding too perky. The B section, arrived at via a big fill from Weiss, is still eighth-note 4/4, but based on a five-bar pattern, and with a pushed accent and a huge fill that starts halfway through the fourth bar while the organ holds an E chord. After repeating this four times, the feel shifts to triplets and the drums temporarily stop. Coomes begins singing in his nasal monotone while Weiss harmonises on top. Lyrically, the song takes an unexpected turn for the serious:

They say ‘Hold on to your dream’
That plays good on TV
But never worked for me
Now I need to find a way to occupy my time
Until the day I die
‘Cause I give up
I give up
It’s gone so wrong, so long
It’s gone so wrong
So long, so long
I give up

Concision was the great strength of early Quasi, diluted when Coomes tried to play his former Heatmiser bandmate Elliott Smith’s game and adopt conventional song structures and lengths. I Give Up says more in its 11 lines than anything on Sword of God, When the Going Gets Dark or American Gong. But anyway, back to Janet Weiss. When she comes back in, it’s with a shuffle pattern on floor and snare, at the line ‘Cos I give up’. Then, at the song’s emotional climax (‘It’s gone so wrong, so long), she lifts the song by shifting back to a full triplet pattern on hats and, after that, ride. The key thing is that at each point of the song’s journey from its playfully circular and twisting beginning, through its goofy middle section to its unexpectedly poignant ending, Weiss always does the right thing: when the openings are there to be filled in the middle section, she fills them confidently, vigorously and with a sort of quizzical aggression. You get the sense her mind’s only a stroke or two ahead of limbs and she doesn’t quite know where she’s going to go next. But when she has to rein it in and give space to the lyric, she’s just as adept. Indeed, with Elliott Smith and the Go-Betweens, Weiss has shown she’s more than capable of backing more classic singer-songwriters than Coomes, her former colleagues in Sleater-Kinney and her illustrious post-S-K employers, and with the frankly impossible Drumgasm (a drum trio record with Matt Cameron and Zach Hill) behind her, I’m intrigued to see who she’ll team up with next.

JW
Janet Weiss c. 2000-ish?

Some of you may be interested in hearing some of my own recent work. Here you go!:

Advertisements

My Mathematical Mind/Everything Hits at Once – Spoon; or Jim Eno, an appreciation

Reading this blog back this morning, I note that I was on rather more combative form than normal when I wrote it last night. Long-time readers may know that I have a standing rule only to write about things that I like and can honestly praise here. I try and avoid cheap slams and cynical takedowns; doing that kind of thing isn’t difficult, it’s not fun and it doesn’t teach anyone anything. But for whatever reason, the following piece contains a couple of mentions of things I don’t like and in places it has the kind of tone you adopt when grandstanding over a pint with your friends, exaggerating your opinions for comic effect.That’s the place a lot of music writing starts from these days, but again, it’s something I usually try to avoid. Just to clarify, then, Messrs Brian Eno, Keith Moon and Dave Fridmann are not among my favourites in their respective fields, and let’s just leave it at that. I’m sure I’ll be back to normal next time. In the meantime, on with the show!

I imagine Eno with Eastwoodian taciturnity, saying all he means by merely squinting his eyes and spitting on the sheriff’s shoes. We townspeople don’t know who he is, but he sure cleaned up that song.

The Eno in the above quote is not Brian Eno. I care nothing for Brian Eno, I’m afraid.

The above quote is actually referring to Spoon’s Jim Eno. It’s from the long-departed Stylus‘s list of their 50 Greatest Rock Drummers. Stylus was something of a rival to Pitchfork back in the early to mid-noughties, albeit one that took a far more poptimistic view of the contemporary music scene. Yeah, it was a somewhat silly list, a bone thrown by the editor to his more rock-focused writers, allowing them the space to gush about Neal Peart, Zach Hill and Yoshimi P-We. But Andrew Iliff got Jim Eno right. He is a drummer of the most gloriously no-bullshit kind.

Case studies:

My Mathematical Mind (Gimme Fiction)
The first Spoon song I heard, and still probably my favourite. Built atop a simple, hypnotic, addictive piano groove, the song leaves huge wide-open spaces that a drummer could go totally hog wild in, if they so choose. With admirable discipline, Eno refuses the invitation. Instead he plays a sort of 6/8 version of a motorik beat: bass drum on every beat except the four. At the first chorus (‘Planning for the apocalypse is’), he adds a semi-quaver stutter to the kick drum just before each snare stroke and begins playing that mean-as-snakes backbeat as a flam. It’s brutally simple but it gives the song a physical impact that’s so vanishingly rare in recorded music these days that I get a little wistful listening to it.

The drums sound so good – powerful, spacious, uncompressed – I wondered at first whether my old favourite Steve Albini was responsible for the recording. Nope. The engineers were in fact Mike McCarthy and Jim Vollentine (…Trail of Dead, Patty Griffin) and Jim Eno himself; he’s a trained electrical engineer, a former microchip designer and part-time record producer, if it’s fair to call someone who produced seven records in 2013 and 10 in 2012 a part-timer. Trust a drummer to care about drum sounds. All the more puzzling and perturbing, then, that Spoon made their new record with famed butcherer of drum sounds and all-round sonic war criminal Dave Fridmann.

Everything Hits At Once (Girls Can Tell)
In which Spoon do Fleetwood Mac doing blue-eyed soul, and Eno does one of the most convincing Mick Fleetwood impressions in rock music. By which I mean he plays that two-and-four, heartbeat-kick-drum thing that Fleetwood made a virtual trademark on Dreams and returned to over and again in the Buckingham/Nicks era.

The song is still taut and crackling with tension in characteristic Spoon fashion, but it’s also one of the group’s sweetest moments, and Eno’s accompaniment is spot-on. He’s a drummer with a solid instinctual grasp of what to leave in and what to leave out, something that the great rock drummers of every era have all known (this is why Keith Moon is not a great rock drummer; if you disagree, you may be reading the wrong blog), and this track is a great example. Most drummers love hitting cymbals, but Eno’s use of the brass here is notably spare, essentially confining crashes to the entrances to and exits from choruses, and one halfway through each of them, and avoiding the ride cymbal entirely. Again, discipline.

I haven’t been listening to Spoon for very long, but Jim Eno is already a favourite, and the more I hear, the more impressed with him I am.

jim eno spoon

Jim Eno, jaunty smiling barely masking his capacity for ultraviolence