Sound Bites: My Top 10 Ash Songs
- Andrew Jamison
- Oct 7
- 6 min read
Updated: Oct 19
Discover Andrew Jamison's top 10 Ash tracks from across their back catalogue.
Let’s Go Back to the Start
I remember the 17th December 2001 like it was yesterday. It was the first gig I ever went to: Ash at the Ulster Hall. I could barely hear a thing for the 24 hours that followed due to the ringing in my ears but it was like nothing I’d experienced before. The lights, the sheer volume, the very energetic Belfast crowd full of teenagers like myself. The music of Ash is very close to my heart. We both came from County Down, and while they’d gone before I started attending, we went to the same school, and at one point I had the same teacher as the lead singer. My poem ‘Listening to Ash’, (which you can read more about here) from my first collection Happy Hour, was published in Poetry Ireland Review 100 – its 100th edition, edited by Paul Muldoon. When I listen to their music it doesn’t just transport me temporally back to my adolescence, but geographically back to County Down and its undulating green landscape. I can hear the accent in Wheeler’s voice, yes, slightly – and less as he’s spent longer away from there – but more so in the intonations and lilts of their riffs and musical phrasing. Take a song like Uncle Pat, for example, now I’m not a musicologist but there’s something about that guitar riff which just sounds Irish. It’s the same kind of effect when I listen to a band like The Cranberries. So, here's my rundown of their 10 best tracks, in no particular order.
Featuring on the 1977 album, this is the one that starts with the sound of the Millenium Falcon and then blends into a very fast and very loud tremolo, which sets the tone of a very raucous rock track, but then the pre-chorus slows down and delays, only to unleash another big, heavy riff. Shifting dynamics seem to be a key part of Ash’s songwriting arsenal, with the most pronounced downward shift after the big guitar solo. ‘Here comes the night, it’s a-coming on, the lights are low and the records on’ is the high point of this song which casts aside the heavy rock for something a bit more melodic - the contrast works brilliantly. This track was also used for the original Gran Turismo Playstation game, which tells you something about its tempo…
In John Keats ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ a jilted knight is alone and ‘palely loitering’ having been abandoned by a ‘lady in the meads’ who gave him a funny drink, told him he loved her, kissed him, and then skedaddled. There are many parallels between this poem and the narrative of The Girl from Mars; a girl ‘who never told me her name’ is all the speaker can think about, but when he ‘woke there was no one there’ before he makes the final admission that ‘I still love you, the girl from Mars’. Ah, unrequited love, that ancient and endless theme in literature. 1977 featured a few tracks about unrequited love, ‘Oh Yeah’ being another that comes to mind, but this is the stand-out track from the album and the most well known of their back catalogue for good reason. In my opinion it’s not necessarily their best, and I tire of it after a few listenings, whereas with A Life Less Ordinary I could play that several times before its magic wears off. However, it’s got a little bit of everything that make Ash so good, and made them so popular at that point: the energy of the scratchy, distorted electric guitar, the catchy lyrics, the contrast between loud and quiet, Wheeler’s distinctive voice with an ever so slightly Norn Irish twang, and the rip-roaring guitar solo. Three-piece teenage rock bands really don’t come as talented as this, and probably never will again – it is unbridled, teenage verve and vigour and talent, produced just enough to make it sound publishable while maintaining its authenticity. If you’re looking for something a bit different try out this acoustic version recorded on the Chris Evans Breakfast Show.
In my opinion this is the best Ash song, and I particularly like this acoustic version (it’s a little rough around the edges, but all the better for it). The lyrics are bit woo-woo ('put on your dress white goddess'?) but the melody and the riff, and the rousing chorus don’t really get any better with this band. The dynamics are strong too with that quiet but leading to the frenzied guitar playing which leads to the extended arpeggios - just superb. ‘Taaaaaaake me in your arms again…’ I love this song so much I used one of the lyrics as an epigraph for my third collection Swans We Cannot See.
The opening notes at the start of this song always make me think of Reef’s ‘Place Your Hands’ - just me? This song won an Ivor Novello award in 2001 and it’s a beauty – so different to those big, brash distorted choruses of 1977. This is taken from their 2001 album Free All Angels which definitely showed a maturing in all aspects of songwriting. It’s not to say they ever lost the big noisy guitar thing, but they just showed that maybe they have more strings to their bow with this one. Building beautifully throughout, it’s a lovely song of love and lightness and brightness. Here’s a cracking acoustic version. Plus, ‘You are a force, you are a constant source’ is a full rhyme that only Tim Wheeler could get away with. It’s not a coincidence it’s the band’s biggest selling single.
This was the band’s first single, and doesn’t shy away from the big riff and punchy catchy power-chord ridden chorus. Maybe it’s the little guitar solo that makes this sound a bit quirkier and somehow more American-influenced than the others of the time. It’s a lot of fun though.
This builds into an iconic chorus, and is another of their unrequited love songs. Does this feature the best guitar solo Wheeler has written? Yes, I think it does. In fact, I’d go as far as to say the guitar solo is the best part of this song, and adds another dimension and sense of lift to what would otherwise have been a bit of a repetitive, maudlin and, dare I say, drudgy song.
'The truth is I don't knoooow' is the chorus of this riotous, existential yelp of a song. You can hear the influence of the Pixies in the dinky little arpeggio against the distorted chords. Released in 1994 as part of Trailer the mini-album before 1977, it captures a motif that goes on through all their music which is the quiet, muted verse leading to the crashing, chaotic chorus. The dinky little, jingly jangly riff which acts as a preamble to the verse is great too. It’s also reminiscent of XTC and their track Statue of Liberty. The track features a contrast between loud and quiet throughout. It’s pure teenage energy with an upbeat guitar riff featuring as a chorus. It’s unfiltered, noisy, and showcases their raw, unpolished songwriting talent - one to sit back and revel in. They got better, of course they did, but you can hear the essence of their music in this one. The recurring image of the cars arriving up the drive at the house drenched in light adds a mysteriousness which is never resolved, but pleasingly so.
What. A. Riff. This is Tim Wheeler at his riff writing best and this track doesn’t waste any time in warming up; we’re launched straight into the distorted power chords right from the start. To be honest, it’s a little bit repetitive even with the quieter middle 8, but the exuberance of the music, the guitar playing and the attitude is what saves it - and can’t that be said for most indie rock?
This has one of the best choruses the band has written, and it’s also the one where Wheeler’s Northern Irish accent is most prominent. Why it’s called Angel Interceptor I don’t know, but I don’t really mind. The guitar sound is so reminiscent of that 90s indie rock sound – ‘I feel heaven in youuuuuu-ouuuuuu.’ It also features the image of someone who ‘fell asleep I was hoping you’d call’ which seems quite anachronistic now – it wouldn’t be a call but a Snapchat, surely. I have a feeling they won’t be revising this, though.
This is one of the most original songs from Ash, and was their first to enter the top 5 of the UK charts. Ash’s songs are filled with mysterious females and this is a fine example of the theme in the music. It was produced by Oasis producer Owen Morris and you can hear the inflections on some of the guitar work, but it’s a compelling track and is distinctive in their back catalogue for the somehow gothic atmosphere it evokes.
Andrew Jamison is a poet and teacher, and you can read more of his blog here, subscribe for exclusive articles here, or you buy signed, first editions of his book here.
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