Files: 30c0128a864b5c20c2b5f87e29a40f0c8e230a06 / content / youwroteyournumberonmyhandanditcameoffintherain.md
title: “You Wrote Your Number on My Hand & It Came Off in the Rain” (the 2008-02-29 Friday Fetch-it) date: 2008-02-29 23:53 series: the Friday Fetch-it
tags: Belle and Sebastian, Field Music, Franz Ferdinand, Laura Marling, Mystery Jets, Sophie Ellis-Bextor, the Rakes, Young Love
<p>For ages, all I knew of the <strong>Mystery Jets</strong> was “You Can't Fool Me, Dennis”; and that one of the band members was one of the other ones's dad. But <strong>Young Love</strong>, their new single (even though I usually steer clear of recommending those), is the epitome of English pop.</p>
<p>The bassline it kicks off with is simple, but with a definite twang to it. From here, the song launches straight into a chorus, through which weaves a guitar line that complements the wry vocals, seemingly skipping along beside them.</p>
<p>The verses are underpinned instrumentally by strong, marching drums; and a bassline that rises and falls, dancing around the vocals. Shimmering guitar crescendos also make an appearance every so often. Half-way through, some backing vocals chip in, contributing staccato, fey “aah”s on the offbeats; they become legato (but remain fey) in the second chorus and start alternating between “ooh” and “ahh”.</p>
<p>At this point, the song's punctuated by a bridge: off-kilter clangs herald successive choruses of “woawoawoaw, woawoawoa-ooo!” and crescendos of those marching drumbeats; until the verse re-emerges—and brings current indie-folk up-and-comer <strong>Laura Marling</strong> with it.</p>
<p>Laura Marling's voice is the poshest this side of Sophie Ellis-Bextor. It's ably escorted by the rising-and-falling, dancing guitar line; marching drums; and finger-clicks, provided in <a href="http://www.brooklynvegan.com/archives/2008/02/mystery_jets_yo.html">the video</a> by the disembodied hands of three off-screen Mystery Jets.</p>
<p>After a final chorus featuring Laura singing an alto counter-melody, the song arrives at another bridge, and this is where it concludes—no chorus repeat (aptly enough, I feel like I'm repeating myself here) and no fade-out: an extended bridge and then stop. This is the mark of a durable pop song: it leaves you only 90% satisfied rather than outstaying its welcome. Moreover, the guest vocalist actually feels like a <em>guest</em> for a change, instead of an ill-advised attempt at a full duet.</p>
<p>The song's lyrics comprise rhyming couplets that, with plenty of hyperbole, depict their protagonist hopelessly in love with a fleeting acquaintance. Despite being pretty straightforward in structure, they simultaneously manage to be poetically vivid and immensely catchy: “Is that you on the bus? is that you on the train? / You wrote your number on my hand and it came off in the rain” is definitely couplet of the week.</p>
<p>But it never seems <em>twee</em>, like a lot of Scando-Scottish indie-popsters <i>(seriously, <em>who</em> can tell Camera Obscura and the Concretes apart?)</i>—the rattling drums and precise guitars prevent the sound from becoming syrupy. Earnest and foppish, yes: but not twee.</p>
<p>So it <em>is</em> quintessentially English pop music—not only due to Laura Marling's accent, but because of the attitude it exhibits: a combination of resigned exasperation but recklessly unremitting determination nonetheless. You'd not hear that from Belle & Seb.</p>
<p>It's the sort of song Hugh Grant would sing if only he wasn't so frightfully shy. <strong>If you download one song this week, make it <a href="http://gkn.me.uk/thefridayfetchit/20080229.mp3">Young Love</a>.</strong></p>
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<p>(How do you follow <em>that</em>? The “aah”s echo the Rakes' “We Danced Together” (an English band); the guitar and overall rhythm, (English) Field Music's “A House Is Not A Home”; and the bridge—<em>annoyingly</em>—“This Fffire”, by Scandinavian-produced Scots Franz Ferdinand.)</p>
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