Great Albums In History: Goat

In celebration of the Jesus Lizard’s brilliant headlining gig at last month’s Capitol Hill Block Party here in Seattle, I wanted to use August’s Great Albums In History to showcase what I believe to be their greatest album. 1992’s Liar comes very, very close to that honor, but I feel that Goat, which was released one year earlier, is oh-so-slightly higher on the proverbial totem pole. Goat was the Jesus Lizard’s second album and it shows the band learning how to sharpen the wild, caustic rock of their debut into something lean, vicious and deadly.

“Then Comes Dudley”

As opening tracks go, “Then Comes Dudley” is a strange one. Instead of grabbing your attention right out of the gate, it oozes and slithers along, with Duane Denison’s nauseous guitar line creating a lot of tension and foreboding. The pummeling drums and slippery bass don’t help much either. It all finally leads into David Yow’s howling vocals, which are mostly unintelligible. The lyrics themselves are fairly strange (“that woman’s crazy, she’s the mistress of a man who’s crazy too”, etc) but if you’re listening to the Jesus Lizard for the lyrics, I’d say you’re doing something wrong.

“Mouth Breather”

“Mouth Breather” is the scariest song about house-sitting ever recorded. Not that you’d be able to tell, between Yow’s wailing and Denison’s viciously fast guitar riff, but it’s actually a song about the dangers of asking stupid friends to watch over your house while you’re on vacation: “I leave my home, I leave it in the care of a friend, don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy, I like him just fine…but he’s a mouth breather.” Probably not the lyrics you’d expect from a song this wild.

“Nub”

The Jesus Lizard pay some homage to their Texan roots with “Nub”, a song which starts with a buzzsaw-like guitar riff played with a metal slide. They also sing in Spanish. Because, y’know…they can. Who’s gonna stop them? Who’s going to say ‘no’ to this song’s stomping drums and grinding rhythm? Not me, let me assure you.

“Seasick”

“Nauseous” is a great adjective to describe the Jesus Lizard’s music, so of course they need to have a song titled “Seasick”. The lyrics mostly consist of Yow yelling “I can swim!” or “I can’t swim” back and forth, while the song teeters between tense verse and wild, crashing choruses. The end effect is a song that sways and jerks like someone trying to handle the open seas in a tiny, tiny boat.

“Monkey Trick”

The album hits a high point on “Monkey Trick”, which serves as Goat’s grinding centerpiece of sorts. David Sims’ bass playing has never been stronger and the pulsing bassline he plays gives this song one hell of a backbone. Add in Denison’s fried guitar licks and occasional outburst of slashing chords and you’ve got a clear standout on a great album. The music is so good you barely even notice Yow’s desperate howling, which is quite a feat in and of itself.

“Karpis”

This track belongs to Duane Denison and his killer guitar trickery. The twisting, wiry lead riff he plays throughout most of this song makes “Karpis” one of the catchier tunes on Goat, but it also ratchets up to queasy tension and paranoia that seems virtually inherent in the Jesus Lizard’s music. The flailing chorus and strangely traditional bridge also help make this a great song.

“South Mouth”

The galloping “South Mouth” is one of the most direct songs on Goat, which is a nice reprieve after the deep-fried strangeness of everything that came before. Yow is at his most incomprehensible and the song’s lyrics, if you can even make them out, are equally bizarre and elliptical. Just what exactly does “hey sometimes we act like animals, hey sometimes we act like little girls” mean? Hell if I know.

“Lady Shoes”

I’ve already wasted the adjective “grinding” on a few of these other songs, but I have to drag it out again for “Lady Shoes” because it’s the only word that adequately describes this storm of blistering guitar, bass and intense screaming. This song might as well not have words, given how yelping Yow sounds. But, as with everything else on this album, it just rocks. No complaints from me.

“Rodeo In Joliet”

Goat’s last track is both much longer than anything else on the record and also much slower. It’s part of a rare breed of song that could possibly be described as a “Jesus Lizard ballad.” However, it doesn’t behave like most ballads do. Instead of heartfelt emotion and downplayed musicianship, it’s a five-minute saga of ringing guitar and carefully wielded vocal dynamics, as Yow ranges back and forth between gravely, almost hushed moaning and a wailing chorus of “the old windbag blows.” Goat starts with an unusual opener and, true to form, ends with an unusual closer. The Jesus Lizard are nothing if not an unusual band.

Great Albums In History: Liquid Swords

Since the beginning of Pretzel Logic, I’ve wanted to write much more about rap. For whatever reason, the great mainstream rap albums of past years seem to have disappeared recently and I find myself grasping at straws in an attempt to find rap albums I really like. However, for this month’s Great Album’s In History, I’m taking this problem into my own hands and featuring my favorite rap album of all time, the GZA’s Liquid Swords.

When the Wu-Tang Clan debuted in 1993 with their untouchable Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), they showed the world the power a group of MCs could have. Between the nine MCs running rampant on the album, listeners had nine distinct personalities to choose from, each with their own strengths and unique quirks. Enter The Wu-Tang is also one of those rare albums that documents a group of people having a blast together in the studio and finds a way to translate that sense of fun to the listener, instead of having the whole thing disintegrate into a complicated inside joke. However, even more fascinating to listen to are the ranks of solo albums by the Wu-Tang’s members. Each one takes the nine-MC-balance on Enter The Wu-Tang and skews it towards one of these personalities, while still featuring enough of the other Wu-Tang members to keep things diverse. There’s almost no doubt that the best of these solo albums is the GZA’s Liquid Swords. The GZA (also known as the Genius) is the Wu-Tang Clan’s smartest, most detailed lyricist and, combined with the cold, atmospheric music provided by his fellow Wu-Tang member and cousin the RZA, his lyrics and delivery on Liquid Swords are unstoppable.

“Liquid Swords”

The album’s opening title track begins, not with beats or rhymes, but with a lengthy sound clip from the 1980 Japanese samurai film, Shogun Assassin. Ominous and foreboding, the clip features a young boy, describing his father and his grim life as the “shogun’s decapitator.” This eerie intro finally fades into the proper song, but the dark atmosphere never leaves, as the RZA’s lonely synth jabs serve as the background for a sparse, creeping beat. On top of all this, we get the GZA’s easy, confident voice describing his incomparable style: “I be the body dropper, the heartbeat stopper, the child educator, plus head amputator.”

“Duel Of The Iron Mic”

With more Shogun Assassin clips serving as a transition, the album raises the ante with “Duel Of The Iron Mic”. Over a twinkling piano sample and insistent bassline, the GZA, along with fellow Wu-Tang members Masta Killa and Inspectah Deck, rolls through three smooth verses, with each MC bringing his own unique style and outlook to the overall themes of lyrical prowess and confidence. To top it all off, the one-and-only Ol’ Dirty Bastard provides a suitably insane chorus hook.

“Living In The World Today”

With the music switching to a crisp snare sample and subtle keyboards pinging away in the background, the GZA and Method Man team up to tackle “Living In The World Today”, another track dedicated to mowing down any who dare go toe to toe with the GZA’s lyrical abilities: “punchlines, that’s unstoppable, ring like shots from glocks that attract cops around the clubs and try to shut down the hip hop.”

“Gold”

One of the album’s strongest tracks, “Gold” again pushes the album into a higher gear, with the RZA’s production building around a queasy keyboard riff and some gritty electric guitars buried beneath snares. Meanwhile, the GZA rhymes about the paranoia that comes with drug dealing, where even the bums sleeping on park benches could be police informers. The GZA also uses one of his favorite metaphors, a chess game, to describe this lifestyle: “the kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a pawn.”

“Cold World”

Building on the social commentary and feelings of anxiety in “Gold”, “Cold World” deals with the reality of living in rough project neighborhoods. With the GZA describing in detail the brutal reality of a life where gun violence and drug-motivated crimes are common place, it’s a haunting piece of music. The RZA underscores the icy reality of the GZA’s words with some desolate sounds of wind and heavy bass, while Inspectah Deck drops by for a fantastic verse, describing himself as “not an actor but an author of a modern day opera.”

“Labels”

“Labels” is probably the lightest moment on the record, but it’s anything but sunny. The song is short, clocking in under three minutes and showcases the GZA trying to fit as many record label names into a single verse (“But I was out on the ISLAND, bombing MC’s all day,” etc). Somewhere in there is a message about the pitfalls of the music industry, but it takes a backseat to a playful game of trying to figure out just how many names the GZA’s hidden in the short-but-entertaining interlude.

“4th Chamber”

Another Shogun Assassin clip brings us into the second half of Liquid Swords, followed by the RZA’s razor-edged production, featuring grinding electric guitars and more seasick synth lines. The first verse is given to Ghostface Killah, who’s erratic, enthusiastic delivery is a great counterpoint to the GZA’s much more deadpan and flat style. The RZA himself even handles a verse, before passing the mic back to the GZA to finish of this up-tempo track with his usual lyrical flourishes.

“Shadowboxin’”

Against a backdrop of smooth soul samples and more jittery snare-heavy beats, Method Man guests with a strong verse evoking the brutality of project life: “those Staten kids, they smashin’ everything, huh, in any shape form or fashion.” The GZA records a verse, hands the mic back to Method Man to close things out and we’re on to the next track.

“Hell’s Wind Staff/Killah Hills 10304”

The first half of this track features a long skit, featuring the RZA and the GZA getting caught in a drug deal gone wrong. This quickly leads into a woozy, keyboard-driven beat, over which the GZA rhymes about the extreme realities that come with drug dealing. In anyone else’s hands, lines like “first rule, anyone who schemes on the gold in Syria, I want they small intestines ripped from the interior” would be laughable, but the deadly seriousness in the GZA’s voice ensures that no one is giggling.

“Investigative Reports”

This track is divided into choruses taken from a History-Channel-like documentary on battles of the American Revolution fought on what is now New York and verses that show that, in some ways, things haven’t changed. As the GZA says, “Callin’ all cars, callin’ all cars! Ghetto psychos, armed and dangerous, leavin’ mad scars.” Ghostface reinforces this with his final verse on the song: “Life is like Tarzan, swingin’ from a thin vine.”

“Swordsman”

Despite all this social commentary, the GZA feels he needs to get something straight on “Swordsman”: “I’m not caught up in poltics, I’m no black activist on a so-called scholar’s dick.” This damning indictment is followed by one of his strongest verses on the entire album, declaring his independence from the religion he was raised with: “’Cause at a young age, I was molded in a religion I relied on, and got caught up in superstition, scared to split poles, duck black cats, once in a while, threw salt over my back, but with knowledge of self from off the shelf, made things seemed complicated now small like elves.”

“I Gotcha Back”

The album’s last track (not counting “B.I.B.L.E.”, a wildly different bonus track included at the end of most versions of the album available in stores), “I Gotcha Back” is an excellent summation of everything Liquid Swords sets out to accomplish. Over those same dry, crisp beats, the GZA unleashes a torrent of rhymes about his upbringing and the cruelty of life he’s seen. Lines like “I was always taught my do’s and don’ts, for do’s I did and for don’ts, I said I won’t” showcase the GZA’s cynical worldview perfectly. The album finally ends as it began, with a haunting clip from Shogun Assassin. Instead of the young boy at the beginning though, this clip features an old man’s last words, killed at the hand of another swordsman: “When cut across the neck, a sound like wailing winter winds is heard, they say. I'd always hoped to cut someone like that someday, to hear that sound…but to have it happen to my own neck is... ridiculous…”

Great Albums In History: Drums And Wires

XTC’s Drums And Wires is an album that often gets lost in the shadows of albums that came after it. XTC definitely owe most of their success to other albums, particularly 1986’s Skylarking, but Drums And Wires is essentially just as good of an album. Released in 1979, it was their first album after the departure of founding keyboardist Barry Andrews. Instead of trying to replace Andrews, however, they elected to record without keyboards, with only drums and “wires” (by which they mean guitar strings). The result was XTC’s first masterpiece and an album that would create the format for much of the band’s future success.

“Making Plans For Nigel”

While Andy Partridge was definitely the most prolific and dominant creative force in XTC, bassist Colin Moulding’s contributions to the band were often some of the clear highlights on XTC’s albums. Perhaps most famous among Moulding’s songs is “Making Plans For Nigel”, one of the band’s biggest hits. The song is a chirpy little slice of New Wave, with reverb-heavy drums and a skittery guitar line. Moulding sings an incredibly British tale of young Nigel, who’s future is being completely mapped out for him by his parents. He’s destined to work in “British steel”, they say. Nigel quietly resigns himself to this future. “If young Nigel says he’s happy, he must be happy,” sings Moulding. Partridge’s incredibly silly “oo-oo’s” keep the mood light hearted, helping create one of XTC’s enduring masterpieces.

“Helicopter”

The spastic nature of Andy Partridge is well-documented and few songs showcase this warped insanity as well as “Helicopter”. With its frenetic guitar line and Partridge’s increasingly demented vocal performance, the song spirals out of control over the course of four minutes. Lyrically, the song describes a girl so wild and free-spirited that she’s practically flying away into the air (“now she’s away from convent, she’s gone wild, she’s grown from a nice young lady to a child”). The song eventually works itself into such a frenzy that everything basically collapses, with Partridge bellowing a few last syllables before everything ends.

“Day In Day Out”

Another one of Moulding’s contributions to the album, “Day In Day Out” resembles a Talking Heads song if it had been left in British hands for too long. Once again, Moulding is skewering the English culture that dictates that you get a nice, boring job and work constantly until you die. The only possible excitement lies when the work week finally ends: “Friday is heaven.” Partridge adds a bunch of spiky guitar, including a fairly out-there guitar coda that fades away as the song ends.

“When You’re Near Me I Have Difficulty”

Andy Partridge has actually written a surprising number of love songs for someone so high strung, but few can reach the hilarious heights of this song. Right off the bat, he announces “when you’re near me I have trouble respirating.” Besides the fact that “respirating” is not a word usually found in rock songs, the sentiment of being so in love with somebody that you literally can barely function is so charmingly ridiculous. Add Partridge’s absurd bridge, in which he says “now I’m feeling like a jellyfish” (completely with a little keyboard fill emulating jellyfish…somehow) and you’ve got a classic XTC song.

“Ten Feet Tall”

Not to be undone in the charming love song department, Moulding wrote the equally pleasant and enjoyable “Ten Feet Tall”, another song featuring a rather skewed perspective on love. Moulding describes his infatuation as so destabilizing that it’s almost as if he’s walking around on stilts, desperately trying to maintain any kind of balance. The drifting acoustic arpeggio that serves as the song’s main riff captures this sense of carefree awkwardness wonderfully, proving that Moulding was just as capable of writing great songs as his more celebrated partner in crime.

“Roads Girdle The Globe”

Of course, after writing a couple of charming love songs, XTC had to bring us back to solidly weird material and “Roads Girdle The Globe” is about as bizarre as they come. With a clunky, zooming bass line and shattered guitar stabs, Partridge creates a wacky tribute to…roads, I guess. His celebration of roads and traveling goes as far as to say “hail mother motor, hail piston rotor, hail wheel.” Not unlike his American equivalent, David Byrne, Partridge was a master of finding unusual perspectives on otherwise ordinary and everyday subjects.

“Real By Reel”

What good would a New Wave album be without a little bit of modern paranoia? Filling this void on Drums And Wires, Partridge gives us the nervous, twitchy “Real By Reel”. Our narrator is convinced that his government is filming his every move (“they can film you in bed or when you take a bath”). Partridge goes even farther, suggesting that those government suits are just filming everybody to entertain themselves. The song’s backdrop of skipping guitar lines and jumpy drumming helps underscore this song’s combination of nervous energy and just plain silliness.

“Millions”

Shifting gears dramatically, “Millions” features Partridge contemplating the vast populations of the “Eastern world.” Touching on Westerners taste for Eastern cuisine and imported products, Partridge begins to question why these people seem to want Western culture for themselves. “I saw you asking for western thinking, I say it’s poison that you’ll be drinking, stay as East, as far away as dreams will let you be.” The song’s restrained instrumental performances add to the general seriousness of the matter, breaking away from the goofiness of previous songs on the album.

“That Is The Way”

Colin Moulding returns with another song lambasting the regimented social expectations of English culture. Over a list of simple tasks (“kiss your aunt”, “use a fork”), a voice dictates “do this” and “do that”. Moulding, for his part, seems helpless in the face of all these demands (“this is how you do it and who am I to reason why?”) The song is eventually interrupted by a completely unexpected jazzy trumpet solo, adding to the mockery of what it means to be “cultured.”

“Outside World”

This song explodes out of the gates with a ferocious guitar riff, played at a mind-bendingly fast tempo. It’s definitely XTC’s closest link to their punk-rock roots on Drums And Wires. Again, the band are attacking high society, painting a picture of a woman so wealthy that she doesn’t understand a world outside of her extravagant home, with “eleven lions laughing at her lakeside.” The song is unrelentingly fast and loud, in keeping with the class politics of the lyrics.

“Scissor Man”

For a song that sounds as silly and ridiculous as “Scissor Man”, the subject matter is strangely morbid. Partridge creates the character of the Scissor Man as a kind of vigilante, “putting end to evil doers games.” Partridge advises the listener to be good (“never poison people”) or they’ll have to answer to the righteous anger of the Scissor Man. A razor-edged guitar riff and thudding bass line drive the song along, finally culminating in the hilarious punch line: “when you wake up guilty in the morning, you may find important pieces gone.”

“Complicated Game”

XTC’s albums tend to have incredibly bizarre closing tracks and Drums And Wires has one of the strangest. Over a downbeat, doomy musical backdrop, Partridge presents a series of odd choices (“should I put my finger to the left,” “should I part my hair upon the left,” etc.) before things become more serious. “A little boy asked me should he put his vote upon the left”, Partridge sings, before concluding that the answer to all these questions is that “it doesn’t matter” since “someone else will come along and move it.” Partridge eventually extrapolates this to God himself, saying “God asked me should he put his world on the left”, before again coming to the conclusion that none of it matters. This type of cynicism would rear its ugly head a few more times over Partridge’s career, but “Complicated Game” is one of the earliest and most startling examples of the darker themes that were always lapping at the edges of XTC’s music.

Great Albums In History: Laughing Stock

Just to reinforce anyone’s perception of me as an indie-loving music snob, I’m going to follow up my scathing Green Day review with this month’s Great Albums In History, celebrating a fairly unknown piece of art-rock from the early 1990s: Talk Talk’s Laughing Stock.

Talk Talk started life as an English synth-pop band in the 80s, following in the shadow of Duran Duran. However, by the later years of the decade, frontman Mark Hollis began to experiment with much more expansive and unusual sounds for a band of Talk Talk’s stature. He presented his record label with the album Spirit Of Eden in 1988, which was promptly declared “not commercially viable”, despite being a critical success. Talk Talk would never play another live show again. Extracting themselves from their record deal, they signed a new one with Polydor, releasing Laughing Stock in 1991. The band quickly dissolved following its release. Hollis would release one solo album before retiring from music. However, his music, particularly the minimal, experimental sounds on Laughing Stock, would go on to influence a whole mob of musicians (Mogwai, Sigur Ros, Godspeed You! Black Emperor), rather moronically named “post-rock” by the music press. Laughing Stock has retroactively garnered a great deal of attention, as listeners celebrate it’s dark atmosphere and stark minimalism.

“Myrrhman”

Fifteen seconds of distant, almost inaudible sounds are finally broken by a shattered guitar strum. This is a telling hint at the kind of music that’s to come. Slow and unafraid to take as much time as it needs, Laughing Stock is not the kind of album you can casually listen to. It requires a certain level of immersion. “Myrrhman” grabs you quickly, though, with its spectral combination of guitar, piano, trumpet, stand-up bass and skittering percussion. Hollis’ lyrics are always abstract, but here, he captures a handful of images that reinforce the desolate, lonesome tone of the music. “Place my chair at the backroom door,” he moans, “help me up, I can’t wait anymore.” The songs final moments feature a crying violin melody, ushering us into the next song.

“Ascension Day”

With its strong, jazzy drumming and snaking guitar riff, we know “Ascension Day” is going to be a more up-tempo affair. Sure enough, about forty-five seconds into the song, a crashing guitar riff charges through, playing counter to the rhythm. These dynamics keep shifting back and forth, with the verses dominated by strong drums and church-flavored organ fills, before the staccato slashes of guitar signal shifts to the chorus. Again, Hollis’ words are barely intelligible, with only choice phrases, like the solemn “farewell” sticking out. The song kicks into a higher gear for the long closing instrumental passage, with Hollis working his guitar into a frenzy before the song is suddenly cut short.

“After The Flood”

The jarring silence following “Ascension Day” leads into the subtle piano intro for “After The Flood”. With more church-style organ added to the mix, the song starts building momentum, built around an otherworldly whistling sound. More jazz drums are added, before Hollis’ slurred voice fades into the mix. Sounds of water running rush through. A chorus of “shake my head, turn my face to the floor” soars above the organ. All in all, it sounds vaguely religious, until a cacophonous chunk of guitar feedback is dropped directly in the middle of everything. Slowly, the song begins to recede, with various pieces fading away before the entire song fades off into silence, carried out to the ocean on a flood of organ. All we’re left with is an ominous, low guitar riff leading into “Taphead”.

“Taphead”

There’s a lot of confusion about Mark Hollis and heroin. Much has been propagated about his supposed drug use towards the end of Talk Talk’s career. Songs like “Taphead” may sound like compelling evidence, with lyrics like “climb through needle’s neck”, but Hollis has adamantly denied ever using heroin. The source of the confusion seems to come from a book that was published, which claimed Hollis struggled with drugs during the Spirit Of Eden sessions. He promptly sued them for libel. However, drug addiction or no drug addiction, “Taphead” is a harrowing track, pushing the minimalist envelope with little more than a quiet, insistent guitar riff and lots of atonal trumpets. It may not be about Hollis’ own drug addiction, but it definitely sounds like its being told by someone who’s been pushed to the edge.

“New Grass”

More jazz drums, before a surprisingly sunny guitar riff pierces the murkiness left behind by “Taphead”. Another song littered with religious references (“lifted up”, “sacraments”, “Christendom”), “New Grass” may sound more positive, but Hollis still sings with a heart-wrenching level of fragility in his voice. The song ebbs and flows, eventually leaving only those drums, before a simple, descending piano line joins them. Violins are added back in, adding staccato bursts of grating noise. The whole thing flows through this process one more time, before it fades off into the distance.

“Runeii”

A skeletal guitar riff opens the final song on Laughing Stock, which dispenses with some of the expansiveness found elsewhere on the album, in favor of a simply closing prayer to send the listener on his or her way. Except, instead of being calm and uplifting, this final song has a certain unsettling atmosphere to it. With lyrics like “well aren’t you success” and Hollis’ gloriously drawn-out “rescinded”, the song feels more like an accusation than a prayer. It’s also the only song on the album where those dependable jazz drums don’t make an appearance. The listener is left with a haunting, lonely feeling, as the spectral music finally gives way to a final silence.

Great Albums In History: The Nightfly

I know I claim to be a music fan, but, to be truly honest, I’m more of an album fan at heart. What interests me most is the way songs end up grouped together in some order to create something more than just a random collection of tunes. This is why I’m starting a new monthly column, Great Albums In History, which will feature a detailed look at albums I find particularly important, unique or just plain awesome. To begin this column, I’ve chosen one of my favorites from the 80s, Steely Dan frontman Donald Fagen’s The Nightfly from 1982.

I find The Nightfly great because it’s one of the most fully realized concept albums in history. Usually, when you hear the term “concept album,” you think of overblown rock operas by the Who or Meat Loaf, which feature songs trying to tell some elaborate story. Instead, The Nightfly is a concept album because all the songs are centered on a specific theme: being a young man in the late 1950s. This works much better than a rock opera because each song is allowed to exist on its own, without having to further some plotline along. As we go through each song, you’ll see how each one adds something specific to the bigger picture.

(Note: Since so much of the appeal of this album lies in the lyrics, I’m choosing to focus on Fagen’s words instead of the sleek, glistening music.)

“I.G.Y.”

We begin with the gorgeous “I.G.Y.”, which stands for International Geophysical Year. The IGY was an international scientific effort between 1957 and 1958, which aimed to increase the world’s awareness of Earth sciences. In Fagen’s song, the IGY is seen as a glorious beacon of optimism and hope, leading to the chorus of “what a beautiful world this will be, what a glorious time to be free.” Fagen captures a moment in American history where anything seemed possible. Everyone was looking to the future, imagining a time when “there’ll be spandex jackets, one for everyone” and you can “get your ticket to that wheel in space.” Of course, this optimistic thinking would eventually crumble as cynicism took over, but for that brief moment contained within the confident trumpets of “I.G.Y.”, the world seemed like a tremendously exciting place.

“Green Flower Street”

As we move along, our narrator (Fagen, presumably) takes us “uptown,” to meet his girl, his “mandarin plum.” There’s no doubt that his “squeeze” on Green Flower St. is a Chinese girl, which, during the late 50s, seems positively radical. Interracial relationships? Gasp! We never know what Fagen’s folks think of his new girl, but we do know that “Lou Chang, her brother, is burning with rage,” since he says “hey buddy, you’re not my kind.” However, Fagen seems excited by all this danger. He celebrates the fact that “uptown, it’s murder out on the street.” He’s a young man and he’s having the time of his life with his Green Flower St. girl.

“Ruby Baby”

Another day, another girl. The young Fagen has moved on and found a new object of affection: “I got a girl and Ruby is her name.” There’s just one little problem: “she don’t love me but I love her just the same.” Fagen perfectly captures the sense of loyally waiting for a girl, even when she shows no signs of reciprocating Fagen’s feelings for her. He’s determined to win her heart, however, vowing to “steal you away from all those guys.” In his mind, she’s already his. He’ll shower her with gifts and love. All he needs is a chance. “Ruby, baby, when will you be mine?”

“Maxine”

Well, I guess things didn’t work out with Ruby, because Fagen is driving down to Mexico City with his new girl, Maxine. However, she seems like a much better choice and the couple’s doing splendidly. The only problem is their impending graduation, meaning both will have to go off and live real lives. For now, however, they meet every night and “talk about life, the meaning of it all.” They’ve got plenty of plans for the future. “We’ll move up to Manhattan, fill the place with friends.” There’s little chance any of this will happen, but for now, the young, naïve couple are enjoying their dreams.

“New Frontier”

“New Frontier” is yet another love song, but this time there’s a twist. The late 50s may have been a time of great optimism, but Americans also lived under the constant threat that “the Reds decide to push the button down.” Yup, it’s time for a love affair in a bomb shelter! Fagen’s found himself a sexy “big blonde” and, being the gentleman he is, he’s inviting her down into “a dugout that my dad built” to wait out the inevitable nuclear winter. Eventually, they’ll “open up the doors and climb out into the dawn.” To Fagen, these are just the realities of modern romance: “prepare to face the challenge of the new frontier.”

“The Nightfly”

Of course, there was something else besides love in the air in the late 50s. Rock and roll records were popping up everywhere and many young people would tune their radios furiously, trying to find stations that played this exciting and dangerous new sound. “The Nightfly” celebrates one of those brave DJs, Lester the Nightfly, broadcasting out of Baton Rouge. Lester is a smooth-talking, late-night host, taking calls by crazy, paranoid listeners who say “there’s a race of men in the trees.” Nothing could make Lester happier: “I wait all night for calls like these.” Fueled by coffee and cigarettes, Lester plays his records through the night until dawn. However, for those who might think this is the best job in the world, Lester “feels like crying.” All these late night hours spent alone remind him of a time when “love was in my life.” Sometimes, he wonders “what happened to that flame.” But, for now, his love is for his loyal listeners. He keeps broadcasting on his “independent station, WJAZ, with jazz and conversation, from the foot of Mt. Belzoni.”

“The Goodbye Look”

This incredibly silly song deals with some of the most serious issues of the late 50s. Between 1957 and 1959, Fidel Castro led his group of Marxist rebels in a successful revolution of the Cuban government, creating a communist power on America’s doorstep. However, “The Goodbye Look” tells this story from the perspective of a phenomenally dull American tourist, who’s just in Cuba to soak up a few rays. All the fun, the “laughter and steel bands at night,” has been replaced by “a bit of action after dark, behind the big casino on the beach.” Our plucky tourist has noticed “the embassy’s been hard to reach.” And now he’s being woken up by an angry Cuban colonel with a gun. As our hero says, “the rules have changed, it’s not the same, it’s all new players in a whole new ball game.” Thankfully, he’s got a way off the island, thanks to “a fellow with a motor launch for hire.” He’s leaving not a moment too soon: “tonight, they’re arranging a small reception, just for me, behind the big casino by the sea.”

“Walk Between Raindrops”

So, after all this time, what has Fagen learned? He’s fallen in love again and again, he’s partied with a girl in a bomb shelter, he’s listened to some exciting rock and roll and he’s escaped the Cuban revolution. Thrilling stuff, right? Well, that boat from Cuba has dropped him off in Miami and, of course, he’s immediately back with some girl. Again, he’s lost in the rush of young love. He’s so giddy, it’s as if he can walk “between the raindrops” of a big Florida storm. In many ways, this can be seen as a metaphor for the album as a whole. Fagen is celebrating growing up in the late 50s, a time when problems were lurking just around the corner. The social upheaval of the 1960s was like a gathering storm on the horizon. But for the young Fagen, he was too busy chasing girls and listening to music to really worry about all that. The Nightfly reflects that, celebrating life and love despite all the danger the world was offering at the time.