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earworm: “Rhiannon,” Fleetwood Mac (1975)

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“Rhiannon,” Fleetwood Mac (1975)

I don’t think it’s exaggerating to say that I get a Fleetwood Mac song or lyric buzzing around my head about once a week. I don’t even need a reason. I just like them. A lot. Even though Rumours came out the year I was born, I’d still put it in my top 20 albums of all time. Maybe even top 10. But this song, is not from that album, but from the self-titled Fleetwood Mac, released two years before when Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham joined the band (and made them awesome). But there are four specific reasons this song is in my head today:

1) I came out of my bedroom last night, and almost didn’t see my grey cat lurking in the shadows. Then he streaked away, a shady blur in the black hallway. I thought of my favourite line from this song: “She is like a cat in the dark, and then she is the darkness.”

2) I recently watched Sound City, an outstanding documentary in its own right, but extra good if you’re a rock geek. Or a Foo Fighters/Dave Grohl fan. And I am surely both of those things. The film is about the legendary Sound City recording studio in Los Angeles. Nicks and Buckingham both appear in the doc and talk about how they met Mick Fleetwood at the studio, and how coming together to form a five-piece band (with Christine McVie and John McVie) happened at that very studio. The songwriting, and recording of that 1975 album unfurled magically, like one of Stevie’s twirling shawls. She wrote this song, and it’s got that mystical, white witch back-story in the lyrics. But what I love about it is her voice, which is so weird and fantastic. And Buckingham’s guitar playing, which is so groovy and cool on the recording, but takes on this crazy, chaotic and passionate quality when they do the song live. Not that I’ve seen them live, but I spend too much time watching old performance videos of the bands I dig.

3) The third reason it’s embedded in my brain today is because I’ve been catching up on American Horror Story: Coven. Of course a show about witches, created by Ryan Murphy (who had a whole episode devoted to Fleetwood Mac on his other show Glee), would have a reference – or a whole bunch of references – to Stevie Nicks. She performs this song, as herself, on one of the episodes. Hate to say it, but I don’t love her version on the show, but I still love this song. And because of the show, “Rhiannon” is getting some love from people whose parents are probably my age.

4) The last reason is that I recently met a little girl whose name is Rhiannon. Her mom actually named her after this song. Pretty cool. She was a sweet kid, and I am glad, because previous to this the only other person I had met with this name was a nutty and slightly threatening woman I worked with many years ago. I think she had the potential be like a cat in the dark, and the darkness, and not in a good way. Perhaps she just needed to chill and listen to some of Buckingham’s seductive guitar riffs.

earworm: “Talking In Your Sleep,” The Romantics (1983)

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I have had this song stuck in my head for a few days. It’s catchy. I don’t mind having a fun little ’80s ditty like this in my head…except, I have always thought the lyrics to this to be strange. The singer repeatedly proclaims: “I hear the secrets that you keep, when you’re talking in your sleep.” OK, I am intrigued, Wally Palmar — poofy-haired lead of the Romantics. Just what are these revealing secrets your bedmate shares with you while she’s unconscious? Has she buried a body in the basement? Does she cheat on her taxes? Harbour a secret and disgusting hankering for a spam sandwich? No, apparently, as Wally relays: “You tell me that you want me. You tell me that need me. You tell me that you love me. And I know that I’m right, ’cause I hear it in the night.” Hmm, well Wally, I can’t speak to the specifics of your relationship, but I would assume that if this woman is sleeping in your bed with you, on an implied regular basis, then it’s safe to assume that she probably wants and needs you, at least in a carnal way. Love is a big word, and maybe that’s what she doesn’t like to bandy about openly. I guess I could understand how her inability to express her true emotions, at least in waking hours, might be troubling for you. But I have to say, I find her secrets a little vanilla. I was hoping for something a tad more juicy.

Unless…he is not actually in a relationship with this woman at all, and just sneaks into her room at night while she slumbers. Now, that’s creepy. And illegal. I will give him the benefit of the doubt in this situation, and assume maybe she is a roommate or something, but it’s still weird. This scenario does match better with the video, which is both hilarious and disturbing as it features lingerie-clad women apparently asleep while standing, until the band members come along and wake them with their truly awesome ’80s riffs. I do appreciate the bass player’s head groove though. I think I will adopt that as my trusted move to this song.

The Civil Wars covered this, and it sounds like a completely different song altogether. When I hear their haunting duet, I don’t even really think about the meaning behind the lyrics. The emotion is all there in their voices. But perhaps I shouldn’t be seeking meaning in an old pop-rock hit anyway. The Romantics also sing “What I Like About You” which is also so very, very catchy. Like a persistent cold.

earworm: “Sour Girl”, Stone Temple Pilots (2000)

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I woke up with “Sour Girl” by Stone Temple Pilots, running through my head. Whenever I think of this song, it reminds me of my internship at the first newspaper I ever worked for. There was an older reporter there (not old; probably about as old as I am now, but from my 21-year-old eyes, he definitely seemed older than me). Anyway, he was pretty cool — a little skeevy sometimes, with the up-and-down-and-up-again eye scan of every female, but still a nice guy at the core. And he had good taste in music. I heard him going on about this song to another reporter. I knew the song. It was a big hit for STP that summer of 2000. But I didn’t really pay much attention to it, until my eavesdropping forced me to listen again. I liked STP well enough. I was a ’90s girl, and the grinding guitars of “Sex Type Thing” and Scott Weiland’s deep growl on “Dead and Bloated” worked for me. Much about Scott Weiland worked for me, in fact. Heroin addiction and perpetual philandering are such appealing, rock ‘n’ roll qualities from far, far away. Anyway, though it hadn’t grabbed me at first, I took another listen to “Sour Girl”, and tried to ignore the fact that the band had used Sarah Michelle Gellar in their video (she’s always irritated me for some reason). I realized the first few bars of the song, before Scott comes in with the lyrics, are almost like a little story on their own. I could hear the origin, and demise of this relationship he goes on to sing about. I even made my own lyrics to the instrumental intro. In my head I sing along: “When I saw her, how I loved her, oh I hurt her and she went away” (x2). Yes, they’re terrible. Certainly not up to snuff with the real lyrics, like my favourite line mid-way through the song: “The rollercoaster ride’s a lonely one; I paid a ransom note to stop it from steaming”. I heard this song is about one of Scott’s divorces, so I imagined he paid both figuratively and literally for his mistakes. Strangely, he sounds more heartbroken than “sour” himself. I know that older reporter-man was on his own second marriage. He may be on another by now. So I understand why this song struck him. I think, for me, the appeal is just the softer side of STP, and the honest regret that bleeds out of the speakers.