Flashback to 2004: The Futureheads- Hounds Of Love (from their self-titled album)

[From the archive. An older piece that, while I'd write bits differently now, I stand by completely. I picked up the first Futureheads record on import, before it was available in the US, and immediately fell in love with this tune. It's was then released as a single, there was a video for it, I saw it played live three or four times, and it makes me feel the same today as it did then. Here I am, four+ years ago, feeling my way around, trying to figure out how to make what I hear make sense in print.]

Let me begin by saying, this IS a cover of the Kate Bush song. If you don't know the tune, that's fine. Hearing this will not colour your enjoyment of the original at all. This is less a reworking than it is a complete reinvention. It's taking a song and expanding it, shifting the focus, giving it a twist that was never anticipated.

And right now, as far as I'm concerned, it is THE best pop song of 2004.


* * * * *


The first thing you hear is vocals. Unaccompanied. One voice. Uh oh oh. Uh oh oh. Then a second voice is added, answering. And then the lyrics begin, with a rapid-fire strummed guitar. A few lines building tension, but still exercising restraint. And then... BOOM! The full band kicks in, and the song launches into mid air.

The first verse is delivered at what sounds like full power. All nervous energy, twitchy and just a bit frantic. Full of adrenaline and youth, yet still determined to stay in control. In the lyrics, there's a cry for help, but it sounds almost like an afterthought. This is all new territory, unmapped, and nobody's anywhere nearby.

Then the second verse hits. Full-blast, but the lyrics are about sudden vulnerability, and the vocals give pause. The band keep moving straight ahead, and it builds to "...ashamed to be there." Now everything shifts, ever so slightly. Nothing stops moving, but there's a new depth. Still full-speed, just a quick breath and push forward again. "I. Don't. Know. What's. Good. For. Me."

Now somehow, the plaintive dejection of Bush's original is jettisoned completely. It's energized, filled with desperation and anticipation. In three minutes, it's capturing that initial rush of romance that everyone seems to forget later on. Seeing the risk, knowing it full well, charging ahead anyway.

And suddenly it's not frenzied and fearful. It's a challenge. The end of the song is nearing, then it's all exploding; the music and words combining to forge something new, unexpected, euphoric. "Take my shoes off and I'll throw them in the lake". An acceptance of situation where common sense doesn't apply anymore. Realization of that point where you're no longer in control, and how it feels to risk yourself in love... The thrill of taking that leap into the unknown. It's just the sheer joy of being uncertain, and knowing that it doesn't matter. You're not alone, what happens next isn't important. Time to stop caring, give up, and just jump.