Michael Jackson, “Thriller” (Thriller, 1982)

[See post to listen to audio]

Kings of Leon, “The Bucket” (Aha Shake Heartbreak, 2004)

[See post to listen to audio]

Like I mentioned last week, shelling out to see the uneven but still fascinating Michael Jackson concert documentary This Is It played a big role in my decision to bring this blog back from the dead. Part of it was seeing the way MJ worked, taking a vision that was in his head and turning it, masterfully, into a gigantic spectacle, one that required endless patience and the cooperation of hundreds of people. If he could do that, I can write 300 words about my favorite songs once in a while.

The other part was “Thriller,” or rather something about it that I’d never noticed before: the bass line almost never changes. With the exception of that killer bridge and a few section breaks, the chord changes are dictated by other instruments—primarily the keyboards. It’s as though the bass finds the perfect groove in the very first bar, and  decides to just set up shop. Maybe there’s a thematic connection there; the figure could be called “zombie-like” in its relentless repetition. Or maybe it’s just a neat idea that happened to work.

In any case, the “Thriller” revelation immediately triggered another. I’m pretty indifferent to most of what Kings of Leon have released into the world, but there’s one song of theirs that slays me. “The Bucket” charms with its simplicity—both the verse melody and the main guitar riff take simple descending patterns and loop them for the song’s duration. But there’s one minimalist trick that took me months to catch: the bass line is just. one. note! Straying only in the chorus, and then just barely, bassist Jared Followill finds D-natural and then sits back and lets his brothers do the work.

Hi there. Hope you all enjoyed Halloween; I did.

So here’s the thing: I’ve been really busy. There’s a lot going on in my world right now, much more than I would ever have expected when I quit my job last winter. Perhaps most notably, I’ve been a hired gun for WNYC, New York’s awesome public radio station, producing segments for the music talk show Soundcheck — like this one. And more importantly to me, I’ve been working on an album — the very first full-length studio release by my project Art Sorority for Girls, after seven years of performing under that name. It’s taken over a year, and it’s still got a ways to go… but I think it’s pretty good so far, and I can’t think of another time I’ve felt so passionately committed to getting something done. Mind you, it hasn’t all been fun; in fact, bouts of intense, crippling doubt and despair have become quite common. But the good days? They’re really good.

In any case, between days at the radio station, days in the studio, and the in-between time that I’ve spent scrambling for freelance work to finance this quasi-bohemian life, I admit I’ve had very little time for you, my faithful readers. Hell, I’ve barely had time for my friends. And when that reality hit me, I panicked and considered shutting my young blog down, if only to save myself the embarrassment of more time in public limbo. But two things have happened in the past week that kept me from jumping ship. The first was that people asked why I had stopped writing; granted, they were all friends of mine, but it was proof that someone out there cared whether this thing lived or died. The other was that I saw This Is It, the Michael Jackson documentary. Apart from being inspired by Jackson’s work ethic, I found that during the rendition of “Thriller,” all I could think about was what the bass line had in common with this one really great Kings of Leon song. That, in itself, seemed proof enough that the well wasn’t dry; I was still thinking the kinds of thoughts that made me start this damned silly thing in the first place.

So I’m giving it another shot. I promise you there will be more dry spells; I’ve got my fingers in so many pots right now that it’s just inevitable. But I’ve been exposed to so much new music this year and it’s given me so much to think about; if you’ll just stay with me, I’ll do my best to deliver the goods whenever I can. Thanks for your support so far.

With love,
Daoud