Ted Leo and the Pharmacists — “Bridges, Squares” from Hearts of Oak (2003, Lookout!)
How much do you know about the musical instrument called a melodica? I’m not going to go into a whole thing about it, except to say that, for our purposes here, it’s important to know that the melodica was popularized by Augustus Pablo as a fixture in dub and reggae songs. Ted Leo, like so many musicians before him who are part of the alternative music landscape, is not only a student of Jamaican music, but often incorporates its influence in his songs.
Writing in Pitchfork in 2003, Rob Mitchum suggests that this song has “a convincing Booker T. and the MG’s groove,” something that hadn’t occurred to me, honestly, but bears out when listening to a tune like “Time is Tight.” Jeff Terich notes the tune’s “straightforward two-chord jangle” in a glowing review in Treble Zine
I bring in these reviews because all I can do is gush, and it seemed maybe some corroboration was in order. This album was my introduction to Ted Leo, whom I’ve gushed about previously, and I’ve been a superfan ever since.
The melodica reveals itself at the three minute mark, about two-thirds into the song, setting up the penultimate chorus and final verse, and it’s an effective textural change in what is, as Terich notes, a fairly simple tune.
Researching a post about Rakim recently, what came through again and again was not just his innovative rhyme flow, but his masterful storytelling. I’m not sure anyone has compared Leo and Rakim before, but I’ve always found the former to be a gifted, often literary lyricist as well. Here he places the speaker in Boston at the start of the song, and New Jersey by the end, using a parallel structure and interchangeable place names to clue listeners in. Commenters at songmeanings.com posited that perhaps there is a September 11th tie-in, and while I suppose that’s possible, it doesn’t come through directly. Instead we have a human reflecting on “the works of [hu]man[s],” looking at once backwards and forwards, reminding himself that “it’s not the end of history.” In this way, I find this song, like so much of Ted Leo’s catalog, full of a much-needed hope.
And for what it’s worth, while I’ve never been able to articulate it myself, I often think about the things that none of us got to choose for ourselves but to which we must all adapt. My inability to explain it is what makes me a weirdo, for sure, but, thanks to this song, I’m realizing that the wondering doesn’t. For example: none of the people who laid out the streets in just about every major city on the planet are currently alive. That means that millions of people (billions?) are utilizing systems that they inherited. It’s so simple as to be stupid when you think about it, but I guess to me the wild part is that we never think about it. I’m not advocating for each generation starting over and rebuilding streets, mind you (how would that even work?), just remarking that it’s pretty, uh, remarkable how we are merely the current stewards of a longer project.
The Shuffler 