Music / Song Review

You Need to Listen to This Song Right Now #33

Heavy Rotation — Motorcycle Drive-By, Third Eye Blind (Third Eye Blind, 1997)

Heavy Rotation was a music industry term for songs that, one way or another, got lots of airplay. It referred to the large amount of rotation that a particular record was given on turntables at radio stations. Since, until the 1980s, this was the only way to get new music into the ears and brains of listeners, heavy rotation meant increased sales. These were good for record companies and artists alike.

Today, some of us still put records on at home and give them a spin. Most of us don’t. However, the term still applies, just in a different way. Streaming services like Spotify sell subscriptions to listeners and then pay artists based on listens. At least, that’s the way we think it works.

For me, heavy rotation means a song that is in my head for some reason. Maybe for a moment, maybe for a day, maybe for longer. It’s a song that you come back to from time to time and still feels just as good.

This series of articles is dedicated to these songs.

Here, I aim to highlight a particular song by a particular band or singer. We should know a bit about the band, a bit about where the song fits into its history, and where the song fits into what was happening in music at that time.

Then there’s the song itself. Who’s playing on it, what are the lyrics getting at, and why is it so good? How does it still occupy sonic space in our lives?

I’ll (try to) keep it short. It shouldn’t take you any longer to read this than the song itself. To that end, I’ll put a Youtube clip of the original recording at the top of the article so you can listen as you read. Or not. And because a song is often much different live than in the recording studio, I’ll stick a live clip on at the end.

What song is in your head right now? Here’s the one that won’t leave mine today:

#33 — Motorcycle Drive-By, Third Eye Blind (Third Eye Blind, 1997)

This series’ most loyal readers might be rolling their eyes already. What is this band doing here, they might ask? Aren’t they late 90s radio-friendly throwaways who were not as momentarily big as contemporary relative lightweights like Matchbox 20 or the Wallflowers but certainly as guilty as any Dishwalla or Better than Ezra pumping out post-grunge weak sauce?

Probably.

They weren’t much different and probably could have been written off after their initial fifteen minutes of fame that came with “Semi-Charmed Life” with its originally catchy do-do-do’s that just as quickly became annoying. But the difference between those bands — any of them from that era — is that Third Eye Blind is still going.

Their longevity has much to do with their live show and constant touring. It’s straight-ahead rock and roll that I’ve seen three times now, first opening for my all-time favourites, James, in Vancouver in 1997, then in a midafternoon slot at the Fujirock Festival in Japan in 2010, and most recently in 2018 in London.

They haven’t exactly been pumping out the albums, putting out just six more in the twenty-five years since their self-titled first and best-selling one in 1997.

Motorcycle Drive-By comes from that first album, tucked away second from last. Its enduring appeal to me is in the fact that it tells a story that was very familiar to me around that time, as 1999 became 2000. I remember it all very clearly.

Like it was yesterday, actually.

Or maybe it’s just the way I want to remember it. But I know I’m not the only one who connects with a song; the lyrics describe precisely what is happening in one’s life. Sometimes when there’s a bit of upheaval, suddenly, all the songs you hear are written exactly about you.

An acoustic guitar brings us in with a sweet early morning light-filled melody, and at 00:13, Stephen Jenkins’ vocal comes in, equally direct yet soft.

“Summertime

And the wind is blowing

Outside in Lower Chelsea

And I don’t know what I’m doing in this city

The sun is always in my eyes

It crashes through the windows

And I’m sleeping on the couch

When I came to visit you

That’s when I knew

That I could never have you

I knew that before you did”

It’s already clear what has happened here, and we can see him, disheveled and groggy in the morning, sitting on that couch — the last place he thought he’d be on this trip — bent over the coffee table, writing down these words.

He went with his heart and crossed the country — to New York City, apparently — to visit someone he had met, perhaps only briefly and intensely, with whom he thought there was something. And it soon became clear that there was not something — that he had imagined it. And now he’s kicking himself for taking that leap.

Haven’t we all been there at least once in life? Maybe twice? I know I have.

But he wants to make something with whatever regret he feels. He knows this is where he will learn something about himself as the cold hard light of truth shines down. “I’ve never been so alone / And I’ve…never been so alive.” He is feeling everything that goes along with this crushing disappointment.

Doesn’t everyone have to go through this at some point? They should.

The woman he is describing love bombed his heart when they first met, or maybe it was vice versa. Either way, it was intense. Deeper than the heart…the soul, maybe. Or so he thought. But on further inspection, she is far too wild ever to be held down, and when the visit becomes real, it’s too much for her. Her true, unharnessed personality shows through, and she has changed her mind.

It happens, man.

“Pieces of you

On a motorcycle drive by

The cigarette ash flies in your eyes and you don’t mind

You smile

And say the world, it doesn’t fit with you

I don’t believe you

You’re so serene

Careening through the universe,

Your axis on a tilt

You’re guiltless and free

I hope you take a piece of me with you”

There is no way this is going to work. He knows that. He knows things aren’t lining up the way he wanted. He might give it one more shot, but he knows it’s time to cut losses and get the hell out of there, sanity intact.

“And there’s things I’d like to do

That you don’t believe in

I would like to build something

But you’ll never see it happen”

His frustration feels like it could explode. The vocal and the music mirror this and build into a crescendo that takes off fully at 2:08…cymbals crash, the bass kicks in, the light acoustic guitar is replaced by grinding guitar chords, and the insistent snare drum echoes the feeling of hating this place, this situation and wanting not to be there anymore.

“There is this burning” leads into a rebel yell at 2:34 that says, “get me the fuck out of here.”

“Where’s the soul

I want to know

New York City is evil

The surface is everything

But I would never do that

Someone would see through that”

It hurts, but he will get through it and come out the other end wearing a few scars, but that’s life. He’ll shrug her off, and he’ll rise, unrecognisable to anyone, especially her.

“And this is the last time

We’ll be friends again

I’ll get over you

You’ll wonder who I am”

But pro-tip: She probably won’t. And it won’t matter either. Things come back down to where they started at 3:28. One last thing to lead us out; he escaped the chaos of New York City and has returned to the calm of the West Coast and the ocean there that he calls home. A little beaten up, maybe, but not ever looking back.

A better man for the experience.

“I go home, to the coast, it starts to rain

I paddle out on the water, alone

Taste the salt and taste the pain

I’m not thinking of you again

Summer dies and swells rise

The sun goes down in my eyes

Feel this rolling wave

Darkly coming to take me

Home”

It might not be your best play, but it will never be your worst. Closing a few doors here and there opens others that you didn’t even know existed. You can’t plan for it, and that’s probably why nothing is like it, but sometimes you need to go home and regroup. And write a song about it.

Here they are, live in their hometown of San Francisco in 2011. The crowd interaction is remarkable.

Want a bit more music writing from me? Here are the last two, as well as #32 in this series.

I really do hope that you like what you have just read. If you want unlimited access to thousands of writers, consider a subscription to Medium. It will set you back $5 a month, and if you use the link below, then I get a slice of that. I’m going to buy this record. Just as soon as I get a record player.