Mates?

Mates? Rules

1. I must play Mates? once a week (or once a month. Whichever).


2. I must write about the first two songs that my iPod's shuffle dials up.


3. I must try to forge a connection(whatever that means) between the two songs.


4. If I manage to forge a connection between the songs, then they have been mated.


5. If the songs cannot be mated, then I have failed as a breeder.
   

Let's fire up the song smithy.

First Song: Fontella Bass "Rescue Me"
Second Song: Modest Mouse "Head South"

This is certainly an inspired pairing.

After some rigorous research, I discovered that Fontella Bass has a surprisingly interesting (and, admittedly, baffling) backstory. After singing in her church choir (of course, right?) for some years, Bass auditioned for Leon Claxton's carnival on a dare. She was hired and paid $175 a week for the two weeks that the carnival (?) was in St. Louis. When it was time to head to another city, Bass' mother refused to allow her to travel and, according to Bass herself, literally dragged her off the train. Some gentlemen heard her at the carnival and offered her a position playing piano in their band. This band competed with Ike Turner in St. Louis. That's basically where her backstory stops being interesting. I won't get into all the questions I have about Leon Claxton's carnival and logistics of being dragged off a train.

When "Rescue Me" was released by Chicago's Chess Records (who also happened to employ Shel Silverstein!) in 1965, the song sat on the top of the R&B charts for a month. That makes sense to me. Everything about the song is charming, from the palm-muted barre chords to the fat, round horns to the rolling bongos. The bassline is assertive but amiable. Lyrically, it's not a terribly complex song. See, there's this woman in a tight spot (evidently, she's lonely), and she needs a man's love to, you know, rescue her from this spot. While the song practically begs to be processed by your standard undergrad feminist critique machine, I think Fontella Bass is being a bit more coy that it appears on the surface. Listen closely. Bass' voice stays within the most tasteful (and radio-friendly) boundaries. She doesn't sound like a woman in pain. She sounds like a woman who is, um, excited. I get the sense that she's playing the damsel in distress, playing to the ego of her target.

Now, with that romantic ploy in mind, I've listened to "Head South" no less than a dozen times. But I've think I've found a way to convince the two songs that they are, indeed, soul mates. See, they're both songs about desperate solutions to desperate problems. Whereas Bass' problem is, according to her, romantic, Brock sings about the universal problem of every Replacements fan who grew up in a small town. Anywhere's better than here. Bass wants a man; Brock's subject wants palm trees and cut off jeans to compliment his surf rock band. Of course, these are just surface symptoms of larger problems of spirit. Bass is not content enough with herself, and Brock's character isn't content enough with his environment. These songs are pleas for distraction, not actual change.

The diverging point, aside from the basic sonic building blocks of the songs, are their attitudees toward their subject. Bass is embodying the voice of this character. She sings in the first person convincingly enough. But, as if frequently the case with MM, Brock doesn't assume the identity of his subject. He talks about them. He comments and scolds and criticizes and sympathizes. Brock's relationship to his catalogue's citizenry is a bit complicated. I can't tell how Brock feels about our subject in "Head South." The second person can sound so accusatory, and there is an whiff of condescension in Brock's voice. I get the sense that Brock, at one point, resented the people who could marshal enough resources to quit a scene.