Saint Etienne, "Burnt Out Car (Original Version)" (2006)

I've walked around for years declaring that "Burnt Out Car" is one of my favorite Saint Etienne songs, if not my absolute favorite; given how special the group is in my heart, that's saying something. And yet I only realized over the weekend that maybe I never fully misunderstood the song.

As many followers of the group know, the song first appeared in 1996: first as a fanclub-only promo single, then on the remix collection Casino Classics, and a year later on the Japan-only compilation Continental. In an amusing (but not isolated) quirk, the "first" and "original" version that most of us heard was already a remix (and denoted as such), since the version on all of these formats was the "Balearico mix." Balearico was, of course, Brain Higgins and Matt Gray, who would later go on to become part of the pop-producing collective known as Xenomania. But now, ten years later, the original version of "Burnt Out Car" is finally seeing the light of day, on the fanclub-only anthology Nice Price! (probably still order-able from saintetienne.com, so I'm sure I don't know what you're waiting for).

I can't say I prefer the original, but it's definitely a revelation. The Balearico mix was a perfect slice of Europop: bouncy beat; a gurgling bass; a couple of keyboard riffs, including one that is almost the real chorus, that are insistent without being annoying. The original, in contrast, is slower, and backed mostly by a solemn and initially minimal synth wash, and a thudding and almost dissonant beat that picks up only in the chorus. And above it all, Sarah's voice seems somewhat disembodied, like she is singing from another room.

Or beyond the grave. Listening to this new (or old) arrangement, I heard a few lines from the lyric, which I've always loved, in a totally new way: "A change of hair color/Clairol baby blonde/I'm not quite used to it/It never takes too long/No make-up, no earrings/Nothing to identify me." I've always thought that this was a breezy verse; in the remix, Sarah sounds like she's running away somewhere, and shedding her identity -- dyeing her hair, removing all accessories -- to make the process easier. But now, with the ghostlier arrangement, I wonder if the narrator of the song is actually dead.

It would make a certain amount of sense. The title of the song, after all, is "Burnt Out Car," which I'd never pondered fully before. What gets pulled out of such vehicles are bodies -- one of which, in this case may be unidentifiable. Some of the other parts of the lyric begin to look different in this light: "The papers/ the photos/Things were found in the fire," for one, now seems much creepier. This reading would also fit with the band's themes from the era. Speaking to Record Collector, Bob and Pete agreed that Tiger Bay, their 1994 album, was obsessed with death, mostly because it was meant as "folk meets techno," which "needs a bit of death." (We might add that the b-sides from this period, logically enough, were as well: "Hate Your Drug.") Although "Burnt Out Car" appeared two years after Tiger Bay, it may have been recorded in the same period; regardless, it possibly continues the band's morbid interest. "Burnt Out Car," I now think, is the band's "Leader Of The Pack," or at least part 2 of "Like A Motorway," perhaps the same story retold from a dead lover's perspective.

That it took me ten years to alight on this possibility might make me a bad, inattentive fan. And yet, I now listen to the Balearico mix again, and it sounds every bit as breezy and carefree as I remember it being. Even the new light shed has somehow not taken away from one way of experiencing "Burnt Out Car." It's not surprising. Two sides -- one dark, one light -- of the same coin. Both versions, ultimately, speak of a desire for escape, for a new Clairol baby blonde start. In the remix, that new start is escapist, almost utopian; in the original, the escape may be death itself.