[Editor's note: the eponymous debut album by The Stone Roses had four releases throughout its first two years of life---the original 1989 UK release, the original 1989 US release, the 1989 US re-release, and the 1991 UK re-release. The original UK release, which is the release that this post will refer to unless otherwise noted, had only eleven songs, never included the tracks "Fools Gold" or "Elephant Stone," and ended with the track "I Am the Resurrection."]
On an album with a cover that refers, however subtly, to the May 1968 riots in Paris and includes songs that range from the desperate need to impress (“I Wanna Be Adored”) to a sub-minute track that yearns for a day in which the Queen is gone, complete with a brief effect that can be interpreted as a gunshot (“Elizabeth My Dear”), The Stone Roses unabashedly soaked themselves in a specific political perspective on their debut album. How they chose to end this album is with “I Am the Resurrection,” which is not only one of the best songs of the ’80s but is also one of the very best and most definitive fuck you songs ever written; a fuck you song so towering that its intended political bent sounds more like a breakup song on first listen.
When I say that this song is “one of the best songs of the ’80s” I mean that it is easily in the top 5, probably in the top 3 along with “Blue Monday” by New Order and “London Calling” by The Clash.[1] I will go one step further and say that “I Am the Resurrection” is one of the greatest six-plus minute songs of all time as well—sitting comfortably in the front row of the team photo along with Dylan’s “Like A Rolling Stone,” Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven,” the Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and Pink Floyd’s “Interstellar Overdrive,” just to name a few.
As for “I Am the Resurrection” being one of the more definitive fuck you songs ever made, allow me to clarify something by noting that when it comes to caustic and blunt writing, be it lyrics or poetry or literature, it can be pretty easy—especially when some aging sets in—for the bluntness and the caustic tone to lose some power. This is natural and unavoidable to a degree as artists and writers are perpetually chipping away at norms and taboos. Shakespeare was an incendiary figure to some once upon a time, but it’s hard to call him that with a straight face in present tense terms when one can go to a local bookstore and purchase a Palahniuk or Burroughs novel. All of this is to say that I fully realize that my calling “I Am the Resurrection” one of the best fuck you songs ever made is entirely subjective—to say nothing of how differently we all interpret the tones of a writer or a singer. But to me, hearing Ian Brown sing lyrics like “Stone me, why can’t you see/You’re a no-one nowhere washed up baby who’d look better dead” is one of the most biting and scathing things I’ve heard this side of Bob Dylan’s “Idiot Wind,” and that the fact these words are wrapped in a song whose musical construct is founded on drug-fueled white boy groove/jam elements and a quasi Indian sound—and that they are somehow able to fucking pull it off—makes it all the more outstanding. Brown’s true message can easily be lost amongst the sea of polished music that emanates all around it. (Kind of like how a career politician’s true message is oftentimes blurred, laundered, re-framed by the polished dissonance that emanates all around them, to bring the political angle back full circle.)
On the surface “I Am the Resurrection” can be seen as a song broken down into two parts: a first part that has a standard pop-rock structure complete with lyrics that gives way to the instrumental jam band-esque second part. But the song really has three parts, with the instrumental jam being broken down into two parts. To me the song breaks down into this three-act format…
Act I – The Angry Intro — (0:00 – 3:39) Starts out with about twenty seconds worth of a drum beat that always reminds me of Bill Berry before shifting into its established melody. If the end of this act were recorded differently “I Am the Resurrection” could have been a sub four minute rock track. As mentioned previously, this is the only part of the song that contains lyrics—cold, biting lyrics that can be hurled at your ex, or at the sea of the dead-eyed lower and middle classes who can’t see that you absolutely loathe them. Either one.
Act II – I Don’t Give A Fuck About You (3:40 – 6:16) With the vocals gone, this song becomes more interpretively expressive in its rebirth as a jam-like instrumental. (You may hear this part and the next part and think that it’s all one big jam that doesn’t really tell a story. And that’s completely fine. I fully realize that I have an inner music dork that most people probably don’t: one that is governed by the part of my brain that was greatly affected by watching Fantasia and subsequently tries to create an imagery that lines up with a lot of music that I listen to. I digress.) The music here lightens up considerably as John Squire shuffles right along the fretboard with a playfulness that is the envy of many a stoned, hemp-wearing, self-taught guitar novice that has occupied countless dorm rooms throughout America. There’s even a prolonged pause that teases you into thinking the song is over. After that pause the drums begin to gallop and become a bit thunderous, which gives way to some more serious riffs by Squire, which blend into the third act of the song. The first act is so blatant (because of the vocals) in its message that the singer doesn’t give a shit about you. This part of the song is basically saying Oh, you’re still here? Okay, well if you won’t fuck off then stand there and watch how much I’m not giving a shit about you. The contrast of this part compared to the first part of the song almost feels like this act is the musical equivalent of dancing on someone’s grave.
Act III – The Fuck You Phoenix (6:17 – 8:13) This nearly two minute block not only possesses the best and most masterful segment of music but it also, to me, possesses the greatest amount of imagery. The thumping one-two-three-four-ONE-one-two-three-four drum beats that precede the whirlwind of assaulting drums and cymbals and Squire’s near sitar-like riffs: it all feels so primal and, for a rock song, tribal. You factor in the indecipherable tornadic vocal effects that swirl throughout it and you have a block of music that paints the image of a phoenix (or the monster from the “Night on Bald Mountain” Fantasia piece), rising up and destroying everything in its path. The final fuck you. Goodnight forever. I couldn’t stand another second in your company.
I don’t expect anyone else to experience or digest this song as I have broken it down above. You may listen to this song and think: “Meh.” Or maybe you’ve already heard it before and think that what I’ve written is an overwrought love letter. Additionally, I have no idea if my breakdown meshes with the band’s concept and inspiration for the song. For all I know the jam portion of the song is just a jam—something that exists simply because it does (“Toccata and Fugue in D Minor”) rather than something that tells a definite story (“The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”).[2] But its true meaning is of no concern to me. I have lived inside this song. I know exactly when all of the transitions take place, and all of the different the inflections of Ian Brown’s vocals. I have listened to this song too many times to count while driving at night, when the night can act as a projector screen by which a song’s imagery becomes more palpable. This song is no longer The Stone Roses’ song, it’s mine; the final psychic transaction that takes place long after the receipt was printed out. Every one of us has a song or small group of songs that represents our soundtrack, and we bend it and contort it to make it our own. “I Am the Resurrection” is that song for me. Its scathing lyrics and (personally interpretive) dark-ish overtones aside, this song, musically speaking, is beautiful and amazing; a no-frills killer track with no flaws whatsoever.
The majority of this post has been subjective, so let’s get objective: The Stone Roses is one of the greatest albums of the ’80s, one of the greatest debut albums of the modern rock era, and one of the greatest British rock albums in general of the last twenty five years. You cannot have a serious discussion about the music of the ’80s without including this album, and you cannot affix this album onto a Best Of list without talking about this song.
The Stone Roses would never be able to recapture or duplicate the power of their debut album and would eventually break up in the ’90s. Their inability to create a second masterpiece or sustain a longer career shouldn’t be seen as a mark against them though. Their debut album is a towering masterpiece complete with a song that effortlessly merges anger and politics with a freewheeling jam, a jam that produces a flawless communion between electric guitars and drums that I have yet to hear anyone else remotely encroach. Simply put, “I Am the Resurrection” is a once-in-a-lifetime song.
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[1] “London Calling” qualifies as one of the best songs of the ’80s if you go by its US release, which was January 1, 1980 (the UK release was December 14, 1979).
[2] More Fantasia references, per my inner music dork.
