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Showing posts with label retrospective. Show all posts
Showing posts with label retrospective. Show all posts

Thursday, March 19, 2026

Deep Cuts - The Blue Nile, "From a Late Night Train"

 

Has a song ever sounded this lonely?

I recently watched Chungking Express for the first time, Wong Kar-Wai's 1994 classic. Ostensibly, the film tells two loosely-connected stories of people falling in love in the aftermath of heartbreak. However, I think this description misses the mark a bit. My takeaway from Chungking Express was not that its four protagonists found deep love connections; rather, I saw it as extremely lonely people choosing to be lonely together. (That may sound paradoxical but hey! It's the emotion the movie left me with.) 

Upon finishing the film, I was compelled to throw on The Blue Nile's seminal 1989 album Hats. I can't quite explain the connection my brain made between the film and this record: perhaps it was the rain slickened concrete streets of Hong Kong on which the film takes place; perhaps it was the lingering mood of the darkly-dreamy score; perhaps it was simply that the title Chungking Express resembles the name of a train and reminded me of the track which this post centers around. I suspect those familiar with both Chungking Express and Hats will be able to draw the same subliminal connection between them as I did.

Hats has had somewhat of a resurgence as of late, becoming a cornerstone example amongst internet music nerd circles of a "sophisti-pop" record should sound like, alongside the ever-beloved Sade. Perhaps more wide-reaching, though, was when Taylor Swift referenced lead single "The Downtown Lights" on her 2024 album The Tortured Poets Department. A co-sign from the world's biggest pop-star was sure to garner extra attention towards what was already the album's most well-known hit.

With Hats, however, I've always had a different favorite track: "From a Late Night Train." The shortest song on the album at four minutes, "From a Late Night Train" strips away much of the lushness found elsewhere on Hats and leaves singer Paul Buchanan nearly alone as a dejected narrator. The song title itself is evocative, conjuring up images of a mostly-empty, slow moving train, with Buchanan sitting solitary in a dim corner, probably half-drunk, talking to nobody in particular. He sings of a relationship fallen by the wayside, accompanied only by looming synth ambience and a few stray instruments. Wilted horns are the city commiserating with Buchanan as he rolls on by; a piano barely manages to stagger through the song. Buchanan's delivery is of a broken man, as he barely mumbles out the song's refrain, "It's over now / I know it's over." He's not up on a pedestal, declaring his heartbreak with big notes and loud emotions. He mostly just seems so fucking tired.

I can see why "The Downtown Lights" is the flagship song off Hats. It's shimmering, it's illustratory, and it's got a magical chorus. It's also where Buchanan's vocals are more audibly expressive, with the way he's almost screaming by the end of the song. And don't get me wrong, I think it's an absolutely phenomenal piece of pop music. But for me, "From a Late Night Train" has the edge. It's one of those songs that delivers profound emotion by being so quiet; the lonely malaise found here may be more subtle, but in many ways I find it more powerful.

In Chungking Express, several songs appear multiple times, famously including "California Dreams" by The Mamas & the Papas and film star Faye Wong's own cover of The Cranberries' smash "Dreams." In the first of the film's two segments, there's a lesser-known reggae song that recurs - Dennis Brown's "Things In Life." The song's chorus seems to be encouraging the film's recently-dumped characters to get over their lovelorn ways: "It's not everyday we're gonna be the same way / There must be a change somehow / There are bad times, and good times too / So have a little faith in what you do." Though of course not included in the film, "From a Late Night Train" seems to include the response of both male protagonists: "But I can't let go." Perhaps that was the latent connection my brain was making after all.

Wednesday, February 25, 2026

Girl In a Coma - "Smart"

 


Back in the heyday of the MP3, I used to relish every time I found a free song download of merit. As a law-abiding teenager (and with a mom who worked in the music industry), LimeWire was out of the question, so I used to collect the artist-sanctioned free downloads via MTV.com, Stereogum's monthly mixes, and more to help fill up my iPod. I don't remember exactly where I found Girl In a Coma's "Smart," but I do know that it was easily one of my greatest finds.

Girl In a Coma formed in San Antonio and is made up of sisters Nina (vocals/guitar) and Phanie Diaz (drums) along with bassist Jenn Alva. "Smart," released on 2011's Exile & All The Rest, is beautifully lush and driving track that showcases the band at their jangle-pop best. 2011 was pretty much the peak of indie's reverb era, and "Smart" makes great use of the technique; the echoing production allows the song to burst wide open. There is some clear Johnny Marr worship going on with the guitars - expected given the band's name comes from a Smiths song - with interweaving riffs dancing around each other like flower petals in the breeze. The final piece of magic comes from Nina Diaz's voice; breathy and assured, she delivers each line with the delicacy of a whisper without sacrificing any of her volume or power. "Don't you ever start to wonder what it's like to be alone?" she asks in the chorus. Harmonies jump in and out to add yet another layer to an already rich track.

"Smart" is certainly a song of its time, but that does not detract from its playful brilliance. For anyone looking for an unfairly overlooked gem from when indie was at its most optimistic, this is a great landing spot. Girl In a Coma actually reunited recently, and a follow up to Exile & All The Rest is potentially on the horizon. When they tour the American South and West Coast this spring, I'm willing to bet "Smart" is on the setlist.

Follow Girl In a Coma on Instagram here and check out tour dates here.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Album of the Week: Radiohead - "The Bends"


Rating: 9.6/10

In case it wasn't already clear,  Radiohead are my favorite band. From the overly-maligned Pablo Honey to the band's most recent output The King of Limbs, I love it all. Today marks twenty years since the 1995 release of The Bends, Radiohead's first truly Radiohead-y album, the record that began to display their brilliance and which proved that the band's legacy wouldn't be limited to "Creep." The Bends does this by abandoning the grunge approach of their debut for a more agitated and unusual brand of guitar rock. While I still consider OK Computer to be my favorite Radiohead album, I find myself listening to The Bends more often than any other selection from the group's discography. The more straightforward nature of the songs, which still maintain a pop quality to them despite their weirdness, combined with a generally happier tone ("Street Spirit" notwithstanding) make it the perfect combination of Radiohead's eccentricities and listen-ability. 



The two best examples of Radiohead's pop side on The Bends are, fittingly, the album's two biggest hits - "High and Dry" and "Fake Plastic Trees." Both lean on acoustic guitar riffs before exploding into something greater, and both show off Thom Yorke's impressive singing ability. "High and Dry," later revealed to be unliked by Radiohead themselves, centers around a simple two-phrase chorus that works its way into your brain immediately, and boasts a guitar solo that pops out of your speakers every time. "Fake Plastic Trees" focuses on Yorke's vocals and acoustic guitar and a lonely Hammond organ (played by guitarist Jonny Greenwood) for the first half of the track. Once Yorke snarls "it wears him," the song erupts for a few brief yet soaring moments, before dying back down, leaving Yorke to wish he "could be who you wanted."

But where The Bends thrives where Pablo Honey came up short is that this record is incredibly diverse, and not directly derivative of any one genre or band. It's hard to believe album opener "Planet Telex" and closer "Street Spirit (Fade Out)" were written by the same artist, let alone included on the same album. The former is a distorted mess of guitars and drums, in the best way possible. "Street Spirit" is a beautifully morose labyrinth of "cracked eggs, dead birds" and death's "beady eyes," telling a tale of absolute despair only Thom Yorke knows how to deliver. In between the album's bookends, "My Iron Lung" features two separate beserk guitar freak=outs, "Sulk" is a subtly harrowing song about the Hungerford massacre, and "Just" showcases Radiohead at their most strum-happy.



While not as paranoid as OK Computer or Hail to the Thief, jarring as Kid A or Amnesiac, or jaw-droppingly gorgeous as In Rainbows, The Bends remains probably the greatest guitar-rock record of the period between Kurt Cobain's death (and grunge's along with it) and OK Computer's tech-rock revolution. Each and every song is vintage Radiohead, and the album as a whole serves as the perfect bridge between the quintet's grunge phase and their highly-celebrated era of oddity. It may not be the most complex output of Radiohead's career, but it just may be the easiest to just pick up and listen to.

Key tracks: "The Bends," "Fake Plastic Trees," "Just," "Street Spirit (Fade Out)"