Power-pop progenitors? O.G. DIYers? The last college-rock survivors? No label adequately captures the four-decade journey of Zion, Ill.’s Shoes, who have released their first new studio material in 17 years. Perhaps the most astonishing thing about Shoes is that this ethic and attitude prevails despite a collection of music-biz bumps and bruises that could rival Charlie Brown in terms of sheer career futility. In some ways, they’re the Forrest Gumps of rock. Shoes essentially presaged punk’s DIY movement by recording its first, early-’70s albums in the living room before garnering enough critical acclaim to merit a major-label contract. Shoes will be guest editing magnentmagazine.com all week. Read our new feature on the band.
John Murphy: I’ve been drawn to this song ever since I first heard it as a teenager in the late spring of 1969, and to this day, it never fails to firmly hold my attention for its five-minute duration. The opening acoustic guitars cascade effortlessly into this stately tune of loneliness and despair, hope and renewal. Lots of imagery flutters by (railway stations, homeless beggars, beckoning hookers, harsh winters, a lone battered boxer), lots of evocative instrumentation (sputtering bass harmonica, clopping percussion, crying pedal-steel guitar, ominous crashes, surging orchestra). Each image-packed phrase melts into the next, all perfectly enunciated. Paul Simon claims he was writing about himself as he was going through trying times, but it resonates with so many of us. Never has being downtrodden, forgotten, wounded and unloved sounded so majestic.
Video after the jump.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2DglHU04rQ
