An a cappella band of the 70s, The Persuasions
rendered The Impressions’ “Man, Oh Man” beautifully; this is a complete
transformation from the original written by Curtis Mayfield, which while good, was nothing particular, either. This cover showcases the sheer talent of artists
who can convey everything they have without any help from instruments. One
whistles, another sings the high pitch, a few snap their fingers, and the rest
take care of the back-up. Add to that a definite Temptations influence…and you’ve
got yourself music! It took me several hearings to realise that there wasn’t
any instrument in the song, and that’s saying something!
A deep chorus leads the piece, giving it perhaps a sadder than intended feeling
and creating an entrancing tune which got me singing again and again. And again.
As sung by The Persuasions, it feels like a church song, bringing out deep
thinking without letting you know what you’re meant to reflect on. “Man, Oh Man”
puts you into a very nostalgic (that’s intended) 60s mood. I love, love, this
song!
Written by
Johnny Otis who introduced Snatch & The Poontangs on the scene, the lyrics
are far out, very coarse_ the type you wouldn’t find in today’s rap which just
goes to prove commercial rap needs to mature and actually become what it claims
to be. Gay too, the lyrics I mean, and that’s another thing I didn’t expect
from 1969 (no pun intended).
Old South feeling,
definitely… Two seconds into the songs and miserable, and proud to be so, scenes
are popping into your head. Very early, without noticing, you find yourself
singing along the guitar. Then, you’re reminded of the singer by his intonation
and you try to mimic his crazy accent. You fail, of course, because you’re too
much in awe, slightly shy, cheeks turning browner or redder, whichever. The
vocals are a long, weird talk and just when you’re convinced you wouldn’t wanna
meet this Two Time Slim anywhere on the street, you’re even gladder you get to
listen to him. Eyebrows are raised by now, eyes wide open, for the song is a
progressive moral downfall_ an iconic one.
But, wait! The guy is going on and the lyrics are becoming nastier. You just
don’t know how to choose what to pay attention to, running between that perfect
pure perfection of a guitar, his accent on a flawless diction, and the nasty
words, back and forth, back and forth. Now you’ve realised this song is just
perfect, awful of course, but perfect. Tein nein nein nein, nein nein! That
blues guitar sings. No, it does more:
it complains, it tells a story, it contradicts, it mocks you even; it’s the
star of the song; it’s caressing, violent and sensual in one stroke. It is Two Time Slim.
Now, too late perhaps, you stop everything else, you’ve gotta close your eyes
and just listen. Just listen.
It’s power.
P.S. It’s
cut in two at some point as if they had glued two different recording sessions.
That just makes it more iconic, really the imprint of an era.
Yeah
Say, baby
D'you know who I am?
I'm Bam Bim
Two Time Slim
The High Sheriff said
From Hell
I'm the motherfucker that rode zigzag lightnin'
Down the middle of the Panama Canal
I'm known from the coast of Maine to the coast of Spain
You can look on the Golden Gate Bridge
And see my goddamn name
I was converted with two .45s on my side
And baptised in a barrel of butcher knives
The stains of all those whip cane mark my hide
A rattlesnake bit me
And that motherfucker crawled off and died
I hunt trouble every day of my life
Of peace and quiet, I do despise
You see, baby
I'm 48 inches across my chest
And don't fear a goddamn thing between life and death
I'm the baddest motherfucker you've ever seen
I'm worse than a bucket nightmare in a midnight dream
You see,
Everything that I do is wrong
If I go to the store I stay too long
If I bring back butter, I should have got lard
When I get ready to fuck
My dick ain't hard
But don’t play me cheap ‘cause I’m skinnin’ and grinnin’
And doing my little laugh
‘Cause I’m the kinda cocksucker to start
An uprisin’ in a motherfucker’s ass
Yeah
I might as well get shitty
Right down to the bone
You know, I beat three murder cases
‘Fore I was grown
I carry a .38 special built on a .45 frame
It shoots tombstone bullets, ball and chain
I sing graveyard songs and I ain’t lyin’
I’m a bad motherfucker and I don’t mind dyin’
I bolted down lightnin’ and captured thunder
I’ve done some shit that made the whole world wonder
During the war, the army laid down their guns
And I won the fight
I’ve been known to eat a wild gorilla
From asshole to appetite
Among the ‘hos you might hear my name ring
But a bitch with a head shaped like a four way cold tablet
Liable to say any goddamn thing
You know, when I go home
I have to walk 44 miles of barbed wire
When I go out
I wear a cobra snake for a necktie
My house is high on a cliff and it hangs over the edge
And it’s made out of human skulls
And if I don’t start some shit and kick 20 bad asses ‘fore noon
My whole day seems kinda dull
Yeah
The drink I like best is hydrochloric acid
And I keep me some around
I pissed next to a fireproof bomb shelter
And burnt that motherfucker down
But I want you to excuse me
For being so bold
But I’m the type of son-of-a-bitch
That crawl over fifty good pussies
To get to one fat boy’s asshole
You see, when I was young
And in my prime
I could catch a ‘ho any old time
Now I’m old and grey and very cold
And I can’t get a bitch to save my soul
So up to it, down to it
Damn the man that won’t do it
But he’ll run his nasty hands through it
Ought to be tied to it and made to do it
‘Cause he ain’t used to it
P.S. Interesting to note that the lyrics from You know when I go home to human skulls are partly borrowed from Bo Diddley's song, "Who do you love?" (1956):
I walk 47 miles of barbed wire,
I use a cobra-snake for a necktie,
I got a brand new house on the roadside,
Made from rattlesnake hide,
I got a brand new chimney made on top,
Made out of a human skull,
From lyricsmode: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/b/bo_diddley/who_do_you_love.html
This review is
going to be short!
Now, it’s difficult for me to detach this song from the Buffy context in which
I first heard it so to me it’s definitely a sexy, sensual kind of tune.
The recipe is pretty simple. Don’t try to understand the lyrics in a rational
kind of way; it’s musical surrealism or seems to want to be. That’s why the
song works perfectly: lyrics and beat accord in harmony. Their simplicity
allows the ear to be very sensible to the atmosphere of the song and the latter
dilutes little touches of sensuality by relying on the repetition of three
things:
·No
need for varied lyrics because honestly the la la lala la la la la la occupy all the space and do
all the trick.
·Add
to that the Ooohh in the background (an unintended werewolf reference?) with
the drums in the front,
·the
accent of the singers when they do actually sing,
and you’ve got
yourself a brilliant ambiance tune. Honestly, I love this song!
Cette critique va être courte !
Il m’est difficile de détacher cette chanson de son contexte. Je l’ai
découverte dans Buffy, et depuis chaque fois que j’entends ses premières notes,
je me remets à penser à Buffy bitchant Alex. Donc, pour moi, cette chanson est définitivement
sexy, très sensuelle même.
La recette est plutôt simple. Inutile de tenter de comprendre les paroles de
manière rationnelle ; c’est du surréalisme musical ou en tout cas, ça en a
tout l’air. Voilà pourquoi la chanson fonctionne tellement bien : les
paroles et le beat s’accordent en harmonie. Leur simplicité permet à l’oreille
de se sensibiliser à l’atmosphère de la chanson et celle-ci dilue de petites
touches de sensualité en s’appuyant sur la répétition de trois trucs : ·Nul besoin de varier les paroles car,
honnêtement, les la la la la la la la la
la prennent tout l’espace et s’en sortent très bien. ·Ajoutez à cela le Ouuuh (qui fait penser aux loups-garous) dans le fond et
la batterie au premier plan, ·l’accent des chanteuses lorsqu’elles
reprennent le morceau,
et vous voilà avec un
brillant morceau d’ambiance sur les bras. Sérieusement, j’adore cette chanson !
The first few notes imply the promise that you’re gonna hear something different, kinda ska-ish, then the latin sound really starts (0:11) and you just wanna dance and let go in a way that really moves your body without thinking of how ridicule (when I do it it’s ridicule) it may look...Now you wanna know Spanish so as to sing along. But it doesn't really matter because then, with the pahh gouh argh (1:28), you discover yet again another influence_ what I can only describe as electro-ish sounds or something.
There is an incredible transition between the "cumbia"'s and the tut tutlutut (1:41). Then a definitely Black-American rap kind of style starts and just adds something to the song. This is its key feature: it blends completely different styles as if it was retracing the real or utopian origins of the band's members.
The repetitive chorus contrasts perfectly with the research behind the sounds, making room for different forms of listening. You can dance along or appropriate the song to make it suit your own experience but you can also consider it’s a masterpiece and lie on your bed at night, carefully feeling its sounds and rhythms, “entering” their world.
The song never stays still and it just lets you imagine you’re breaking the boundaries of your body. “Cumbia de Los Muertos” allows you to escape into an illusion which, to me, is exactly what a dancing song should do...I can definitely see a link with Zucchero's video clip of “Baila Morena” (even more so since the title speaks about the dance of the dead, no? At least according to google translate!) even if the latter is definitely more “commercial.”
Les premières notes semblent promettre un son différent, plutôt ska. Puis les sons latins démarrent (0:11) and là on veut juste danser et lâcher tout (ou tout lâcher?) sans réfléchir à deux fois aux apparences. On voudrait connaître l’Espagnol pour pouvoir chanter à fond, mais déjà ça n’a plus d’importance car les pahh gouh argh (1:28) nous font découvrir une influence de plus_ ce que je ne peux que décrire comme un truc proche de l’électro (ou l’idée que je m’en fais).
Il y a une transition géniale entre les « cumbia » et les tut tutlutut (1:41), puis un rap d’un style des plus Black Américain s’y met lui aussi et ajoute une touche bienvenue au morceau. Voilà ce qui fait tout son charme, cette chanson mélange des styles complètement différents comme si elle retraçait les origines réelles ou imag(in)ées des membres du groupe.
La répétition du refrain contraste parfaitement avec la recherche des sons, nous permettant des écoutes inventives et libres. On peut danser en suivant le mouvement ou carrément se l’approprier en se laissant emporter par ses propres folies, ou encore considérer que c’est un chef d’œuvre musical et l’expérimenter tard le soir sur son lit, ressentir ses sons et ses rythmes, entrer dans leur monde…
La chanson ne reste jamais en place, nous laissant le loisir d’imaginer un corps sans frontière. “Cumbia de Los Muertos” permet de s’échapper dans le domaine de l’illusion ce qui est précisément ce qu’une bonne vieille chanson dansante doit faire. Je vois réellement un lien avec le clip de Zucchero de « Baila Morena » (encore plus vu que les deux morceaux sont censés être à propos de danses des morts, selon google traduction en tout cas !) même si « Baila » est définitivement plus commerciale…
It’s a late Sunday afternoon song with a heavy, long and sweaty summer as the background.
As soon as our interest is caught in the smooth harmony and perfect musical research of the first few notes, Bessie Smith’s rather “harsh” voice breaks it up and the melody becomes relegated to the background. What matter here are the lyrics and the voice; the power of the latter forcefully opens our ears to the lyrics. To appreciate this song, you don’t necessarily have to love blues, you only need to grasp enough of American English. One smiles openly at the racy word games and Bessie Smith’s warm voice make them sound genuine_ as if they were really coming from her loins (before ending up in ours). The drawling voice that, as in most blues, sings Bessie’s despair is the spider and the melody, like a sleeping pill, is the web.
There is some criticism, however, for the qualities of the singing are also its drawbacks. Smith runs the risk of downplaying the vibes towards which she has carefully worked, if only because of the rigorous perfection of her warm and even singing. While Smith’s low-pitched voice is at its best, the singing itself lacks a rough side which could echo the lyrics. We would almost demand a few growls to carry the weight of Bessie Smith’s complaints.
C’est le genre de chanson que demande un début de dimanche soir par un été lourd et lancinant.
Une fois qu’elles ont éveillées notre intérêt par leur douce harmonie et leur parfaite recherche musicale, les premières notes sont aussitôt tranchées par la voix plutôt « dure » (à défaut d’un meilleur terme) de Bessie Smith qui relègue la mélodie en arrière-plan. Ce qui importe c’est les paroles et la voix ; la puissance de cette dernière nous force à prêter oreille aux premières. Pour apprécier cette chanson, il n’est pas nécessaire d’aimer le blues si on comprend aisément l’anglais. On sourit à grandes dents aux jeux de mots corsés que la voix chaude de Smith rend sincères_ comme s’ils venaient vraiment du plus profond de ses entrailles (avant de se répercuter dans les nôtres). Typique du blues, la voix traînante chante les désespoirs de Bessie et on est facilement attrapé dans leurs filets grâce à la mélodie presque endormante.
Mais une critique, cependant : les qualités du chant sont aussi ses défauts. Chaleureux et uni, il risque presque de détruire l’ambiance voulue par sa perfection par trop régulière. Si la voix grave de Smith est à son comble, le chant lui-même manque un rien de la « rugosité » que les paroles laissent présager. On voudrait presque que quelques grognements viennent soutenir le poids des complaintes de Bessie Smith.
