 Like a smooth pick-up line, the opening track of a record can either be the start of a beautiful friendship, or it can leave you clutching your face and wondering what just hit you. So, what do you look for in an opening track? What’s the right approach to take? Do you hit them hard first up with the cracking ‘I’ve lost my number, can I borrow yours?’ or do you ease in there with a flirtatious glance and quick flash of pale, meaty thigh? Let’s take a quick squiz at how the modern-day masters do it…
‘Let’s Get Their Attention!’
(‘Welcome to the Jungle’ – Guns ‘n’ Roses, Appetite for Destruction)
The Gunners don’t do things by halves. The moment you hear this song, your mind flows back to easier times, those times of acid-wash and ridiculously long hair; when metal was cool, and it fused with rock to make ‘hard rock’, aka an excuse for old guys to wear sleeveless shirts and do the ol’ devil horns thing with their hands. This was before Slash had the on-stage heart attack – read the (auto)biography, it actually happened – and before people realised they hated Axl. They hit hard with the opener, but where many might fall off the pace after such a powerful little start, the whole things stands firm to be considered both the band’s best work and one of the nastiest, dirtiest albums of the late-80s. It’s a gem, no matter what your taste.
‘Have to get it out of the way’
(‘One Crowded Hour’ – Augie March, Moo, You Bloody Choir)
Such was the hype about this song it went without saying that the entirety of the Augie’s third record would be centred on ‘One Crowded Hour’. So they put it first. What’s the thinking behind this? Well, I’m not daring enough to think I can jump into Glenn Richards’ mind (nor do I want to - I’m sure it’s a strange little spot to be), but you can only imagine it’s out of some sort of spite: the song had been around the traps for years, and suddenly it was a hit and was being played on every radio station, including the unknown territory of commercial radio. The band must’ve been sick to fuck of the song, which despite its brilliance does wear a little thin when compared to the elaborate slices of genius we know the group can offer up. Tempting fate in recent live shows by threatening to leave the song out of the set (much to some audience members’ dismay), their contempt for the award-winning number only seems to grow with every pub jukebox it’s played on, and every bogan who requests it. Still, it’s an absolute ripper of a track. The rest of the album, however, is a little less grand.
‘Ah, an incongruous instrumental track’
(‘In the Deep Shade’ – The Frames, For the Birds)
Ireland’s favourite sons (everyone hates Bono now, don’t they?) released their best album in 2001. For the Birds was full to the brim with gorgeous pieces of power-pop: from the folky ‘Lay Me Down’, to the spine-tingling crescendo of ‘Headlong’, the euphoria of the slow-burning ‘Santa Maria’ and the intimacy of ‘Disappointed’ (just to name a few of the amazing tracks), the album is a keeper, and rightfully a mainstay in any ‘Top 20 Irish Albums’ list. The opener – a subtle little instrumental – is, however, somewhat wasted. ‘Setting the scene’, you might call it, or ‘lulling the audience in.’ I prefer, ‘piss-farting around.’ While later in their career (on the lacklustre The Cost), they would opt for the aforementioned Augie March approach with ‘Song for Someone’, ‘In the Deep Shade’ saw The Frames embarking on a little bit of masturbatory self-indulgence. The album is, however, purely wonderful.
‘The Clincher’
(‘Fake Empire’ – The National, Boxer)
One of the better albums from a mediocre year (2007), Boxer was The National at their best and ‘Fake Empire’ was undoubtedly the album’s crowning moment. Smooth piano helped introduce the uninitiated to Matt Beringer’s Cohen-esque croon, and the track built to a short, yet sublime, horn-laced crescendo. It’s as close as The National have come to utter perfection. There is no doubt this beautiful number, quietly lush and with enough snippets of lyrical genius littered about the place, immediately drew us all in (at least all of us at WB headquarters).
‘The Dark Horse’
(‘Airbag’ – Radiohead, OK Computer)
(‘Planet Telex – Radiohead, The Bends)
Radiohead have always done it their way, and with these two records they certainly made their mark on the world. These openers, like the albums they launch, are not nearly as powerful in terms of immediate impact as they are a bit further down the listening line. You may remember ‘Paranoid Android’ and ‘The Bends’ as the first knock-out blows, but think about it a bit more and you’ll remember you were softened up by these complex and subtle tracks. They’re by no means radio-fodder, and by no means the ones people scream for at the live shows, but by now the opening notes of each of these tracks stand as symbols of something great for more than just one generation of music-lovers. Each time you hear one of these, you experience the whole album in full again, and neither has lost relevance or impact with time. Not even the might of Thom Yorke’s little-man angst can topple big-business, however, i.e. the EMI-sanctioned, superfluous ‘Greatest Hits’ collection.
‘The ‘fuck you, record company!’
(‘The Hole in Your Roof’ – Augie March, Sunset Studies)
Australia’s premier band rate another mention in this list, mainly due to the sheer balls present in placing this seven-minute epic at the start of their debut full-length album on Sony BMG. Not much else needs to be said: you’ve gotta give them cred, especially in light of the fact that the label stuck with them, has made a lot of cash out of them since, and Augie sit on the same roster of artists as the Australian Idol winners, losers and all those others who got deals despite being utter bollocks. I don’t know how they do it, but Glenn and the boys must be pretty charming for the big men at BMG to have taken this little slap in the face.
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