This month, the Picky Bastards team got together for a little experiment. Taking minor inspiration from it being Easter in April, we picked The Stone Roses’ classic track ‘I Am The Resurrection’ as a starting point, and then sent our team on a little journey. Will Collins, the first writer in the chain, was asked to listen to this song, and see what other song it made him think of – it could be through a memory the song evokes, a link between this act and another, or any other route through which the individual writer was led by their song.
And then the chain continued – with 8 writers involved, where would this musical odyssey take us? Find out below:
Will Collins – Pixies, ‘Gigantic’
I bought the first Stone Roses album on CD when I was about 14 or 15. As an aspiring bass player, I would have given anything to be able to play like Mani. The other bassist who I idolised at a similar age (and still do!) was Kim Deal for her work in Pixies. I don’t listen to either band as much as I used to these days but as I listened to the bass and drums intro to ‘I Am the Resurrection’, my mind was immediately drawn to ‘Gigantic’, a track from Pixies own debut album.
In some ways a less bombastic track, it is still built around the bass in the same way ‘I Am the Resurrection’ is. Deal’s metronomic, driving bass anchors the song as it shifts gears between the lackadaisical verses with their almost-whispered lyrics and the cathartic roar of the chorus. In many ways, it’s a distillation of the classic quiet/loud shift that defines much of their sound.
I first got into her playing because it consisted of bass lines that I could actually play. I’ve got fond memories of butchering my way through attempts at ‘Gigantic’ and ‘Where Is My Mind?’ It was only after learning the songs that I realised that there was a difference between being able to play them in a basic sense and really being able to play them. The simplicity is deceptive and so much of what makes them so effective is the conscious restraint in her playing that somehow keeps the bass at the forefront of the songs without letting them completely dominate them.
Her bass lines provide a kind of monolithic foundation to the songs, filling them out and allowing the rest of the band to take the spotlight. Anyway, enough waffling from me. I’m off to dig my bass out of the cupboard and see if I can still play ‘Gigantic’.
Rick Larson – The Wedding Present, ‘Dalliance‘
Will chose a song from one of my favorite albums of all time, one that still sounds better than almost anything recorded today. I try to play the drums and was also drawn to the rhythm section on Surfer Rosa. Drums have never sounded better, completely up in your grill. ‘Gigantic’ made me think of Steve Albini, the master producer behind Surfer Rosa and a bass player himself, who died much too young in 2024. Albini made his name with Surfer Rosa and became highly sought after, his influence spreading along with that of Pixies themselves, arguably the most important indie rock band ever.
That is why a band from Leeds found themselves recording an album, Seamonsters, in a studio secluded in a Minnesota forest with Albini at the knobs. The Wedding Present came armed with rough hewn songs perfectly matched for Albini’s uncanny ability to capture immediacy. ‘Dalliance’ is a terrific song that sounds like 1991, which is to say it sounds fantastic.
I still think of Albini all the time as a working theory pings around in my brain that Chicago bands (e.g., Horsegirl, Ratboys, Cusp) just tend to sound really good. Albini is in the air, the water. He was a fascinating guy with a legacy that persists.
Fran Slater – The Cure, ‘Close to Me’
I haven’t spent a great deal of time listening to The Wedding Present, despite multiple suggestions that I should. So I really enjoyed listening to Rick’s choice of ‘Dalliance’ – I like way the song builds and changes, growing towards a crescendo.
I also quite enjoy the inflection in singer David Gedge’s voice and, in particular, the way he performs the lines ‘how much I miss you’ and ‘I still want to kiss you.’
Something in that delivery reminds me of The Cure’s Robert Smith and, in particular, my favourite song by them ‘Close to Me.’ I honestly rank this song among the best of all time, so it was great for me to be put in mind of it after not listening to it in so long.
I love the way Robert Smith strains his way through the lyrics, while a sweet, summery keyboard line leads us through the track. It’s a rare happy, upbeat song by the somewhat dour band. I hope that whoever follows me in this chain gets some joy from it and it leads them to a song they love as much as I love this one.
Tom Burrows – Guillemots, ‘Trains to Brazil’
Despite massively getting into post-punk as a sixth-former, I never listened to The Cure (apart from ‘Friday I’m In Love’ being played at parties). So I’ve never actually heard ‘Close To Me’ before. The jaunty rhythm section initially brings to mind David Bowie’s ‘Modern Love’, a song that means little to me despite being a bit of a banger. Then the drums are juxtaposed with these quietly melancholic keys, and Robert Smith’s yearning vocals, which stirs something in the recesses of my memory.
Which of the noughties Cure-copycat vocalists does this sound like? I trawl through the mental Rolodex (or iPod click wheel, to reach for something more era-appropriate). Is it Mystery Jets? The Cribs? …Razorlight? How sacrilegious can I go? It might be a (much more) restrained version of The Darkness’ Justin Hawkins, but there’s nothing in their work that matches the ‘Close To Me’ vibe. I give up. But during the search, I randomly remembered Guillemots, and their 2006 debut album, Through The Windowpane. I haven’t thought of this for years. ‘Trains To Brazil’ is still a great song. It sounds nothing like The Cure. But I suppose, in a way, a jaunty song with a melancholic undercurrent… kind of feels appropriate? I’m passing it on anyway. Some 2006 nostalgia for you to enjoy.
Fliss Clarke – Ylana, ‘Calcanhar’
Wow was this random? A song called “Trains to Brazil” sent to the only bastard in Brazil? My heart leapt! I was not familiar with the Guillemots or the song and was a little confused to find that the lyrics actually make no reference the tropical South American giant. The sound feels familiar though, recalling many a noughties night out at sweaty indie clubs with its driving drum beat and lively melody overlaid with melancholy lyrical longing.
While I could so easily stay in the indie-pop realm I absolutely cannot pass up the invitation in the title to take this train to Brazil! Hm, so, a jaunty song of longing that is very much animated by the brass section? I landed pretty quickly on Calcanhar by Ylana. It’s an odd little ditty of Pernambuco rhythms and big clashy beautiful brass with Ylana sweetly singing of going after someone over hot sand and stone until her heels hurt. From the beaches of Brazil, I wonder where will the train go next…
James Spearing – CSS, ‘Alala’
So as I’ve never heard this song before, albeit an enjoyable experience, I was unable to make any instant, emotional connection to any memory of another song. Instead, I’ve gone with a logical connection, and to keep things simple, I continued the Brazilian theme. The obvious choice for me then was something by CSS. But which to choose?
I spent a fun afternoon revisiting their 2006 debut album Cansei De Ser Sexy and eventually settled on track three ‘Alala’ in all it’s discordant, squelchy and most importantly fun glory and plenty of memories of good times past. Brazilian sure, but probably more suited to a dingy basement club dancefloor in the noughties than the sun and sand of Fliss’s pick, but leaving the options open for whoever is next in line.
Kate Burke – Biffy Clyro, ‘Glitter and Trauma’
I was delighted to see my chosen song from James was one I immediately recognised. I didn’t even have to listen to it for my brain to be transported to sweaty nightclubs with my friends in our 20s, when we were young enough to go out without needing a 3 day recovery period, and when drinks promos and night buses meant we could afford to do so reasonably regularly.
I very much enjoyed listening it to again though; having been fortunate to see CSS in 2007 at Pukkelpop Festival in Belgium, I cast my mind back to the best lined-up festival line I’ve ever attended, even if I was very grumpy after spending 4 days on a poorly catered for veggie diet of potato (beer, chips, vodka and actual potatoes).
We made the pilgrimage to see Biffy Clyro in one of the tents, and much in the way that wolves howl to assemble their pack, the cries of “‘Mon the Biffy!” throughout the crowd identified the Scottish contingent with ease and probably (quite rightly) terrified some locals.
They closed with ‘Glitter and Trauma’, which I would like to pass on to the next bastard!
Joe Hoare – Little Simz, ‘I Love You, I Hate You’
What a pleasure it is to end the chain, and a greater pleasure still to listen to a song that I’ve never heard before. I am, of course, familiar with Biffy Clyro’s work – their Scottish brogue lilts its way through songs like ‘Mountains’ and ‘Many of Horror’. The delicacy of those two songs is not afforded to ‘Glitter and Trauma’ though, a barnstormer of epic proportions which, at its heart, is about the contradictions those we love carry with them and how we deal with it. We see their ‘Glitter’ but the ‘Trauma’ lingers despite it all. Its sound mutates throughout from a bolshy dance intro, a syncopated verse, into a more ‘traditional’ rock chorus – perhaps showing the challenges relationships with these people evolve through time.
These ideas immediately brought one of my favourite artists of the past few years, Little Simz, and her song ‘I Love You, I Hate You’ from her Mercury-winning album ‘Sometimes I Might Be Introvert’. The song is aimed at her father and pointedly asks ‘Is you a sperm donor or a dad to me?’, highlighting the ‘anger’, ‘anxiety’ and ‘heartbreak’ caused by the lack of her father’s presence. The backing vocals provide a constant metronome of ‘I love you… I hate you’ – showing how our feelings are never set where family members who frustrate us are concerned. The song is punctuated with the big orchestral and choral sound that made the album so powerful and adds a gravity to the message: love isn’t always easy and that’s ok.
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