CONCEPT
Oversimplified-and-sometimes-false truism: Among pop and dance music (I don’t care what kind it is), given one artists, their most popular songs likely are their best.
On the Green Album, the best three songs are probably Chime, Belfast, and Satan. Except, of course, for Choice.
Choice
There’s an emphatic versatility in Choice, or maybe it was Hartnoll brothers’ attempt to solidify their claims to versatility. It doesn’t implore dancing like Chime does. It assumes dancing. I don’t know whether it should be called a groove-centered song or a riff-centered song, but it starts up right away. The words “wake up,” and then the beat.
Amazingly, this track didn’t appear on the British LP. I can’t imagine why. Could it have something to do with the lyrics. Typically, they’re unavailable online, but one voice in the distance yells (with an echo that seems to bounce off metal-plated walls) “wake up!” and, much nearer “peace or annihilation!”
It may be appropriate now to take a look at a related song, though one more concerned with its concept than its danceability; that is, that demands consideration in the midst of dancing.
Desert Storm
“Let everyone go to his private shelter…
May the blessing of the Bomb Almighty and the Fellowship of the Holy Fallout
Descend upon us this day and for evermore”
It’s very strange to me to be writing today about a song that was highly topical and of the moment when it was written, to find that it was again of the moment two years ago, when I was still unfamiliar with Orbital with the exception of their sole track on the Pi Soundtrack, and now this twelve-minute song has picked up a sort of weird immortality or timelessness, because looking at the tortured intertwinedness (after so many thousands of miles) between ourselves and the Persian Gulf region… will this song ever not be of the moment again?
The drum has powerful drums and an insidious bassline, but with a couple relatively brief exceptions (during which they preen like a jazz improve — it’s a twelve minute song — these more showcase the arabesque riffs and stereoplay, haunting chimes that occasionally well up from nowhere, and the helicopter blades. Yes, helicopter blades. Don’t worry; they’re not real helicopter blade sounds, and they’re not concerned with sounding like real helicopters. It’s more like static cutting through a particularly ambitious table fan, but the comparison is unmistakable.
OH, WHAT THE HELL! I DON’T WANT TO WRITE A REVIEW AND I NEVER WANTED TO WRITE A REVIEW. A REVIEW IS AN ENCAPSULATION ON WHETHER SOMETHING IS “GOOD” OR “BAD” BUT 99% OF WHAT I TALK ABOUT HERE I’M GOING TO CONSIDER GOOD OR EXCELLENT. WHAT I REALLY WANT TO DO IS HAVE DISCUSSIONS ABOUT HOW THIS STUFF MANAGES TO BE RESONANT, AND WHEN IT DOES NOT, WHY IT DOES NOT. INSTEAD I’M SCRATCHING MY HEAD LOOKING FOR ADJECTIVES LIKE I’M POSTING FOR THE HIGH-SCHOOL NEWSPAPER LIKE A TRUMPED-UP NOEL MURRAY WANNABE. I’VE LISTENED TO ORBITAL FOR THREE YEARS NOW; I THINK I’M ENTITLED TO SAY SOMETHING, RIGHT? BUT WHAT CAN I SAY THAT’S WORTHWHILE AT ALL?
It’s the chimes rising that wins me over to this one in the end. And the rising voice at the beginning. Creepy.
Oolaa
Oolaa seems to be everybody’s favorite song off this album. I enjoy Oolaa, but I don’t really see what the big deal is. The blips and percussion are fun, but it’s not really selling anything with the same strength that I find elsewhere. Chime is more fun, Satan more mean, Choice more driven, Desert Storm more profound, and Belfast more surreal.
Wait… energy. That’s it. Oolaa has the energy.
END OF POST.