Squareinthecircle
2nd November 2025, 01:40
On “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’”: The Visitor That Won’t Be Denied
Come Darken Our Doorsteps
https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!8ltW!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6f74d429-3935-49b4-8980-dbb7fc3df5b2_575x390.jpeg
Kevin Boykin
Nov 01, 2025
There are riffs you play, and there are riffs that play you. The opening of “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’” is the latter. You don’t so much hear it as you get stuck between its teeth.
It begins in D. Or at least, it feels like it does — and that’s the trick. That first gesture tells your ear, “settle here.” You wait for the verse to land in D, for the band to put down roots. But no — the floor slides, and suddenly you’re in C. You can call that a key change if you want, but it isn’t. It’s sleight of hand. It’s prestidigitation. Keith sets you up for one tonic and yanks it away.
And then the cycle begins. Each time that D comes around, you think maybe this time it will stick. Maybe this time the center will hold. It never does. Instead, the riff resets the illusion over and over, pulling you into a loop that never resolves. It’s tonal vertigo: permanent, deliberate.
At 24 seconds in, we get what ends up being the structure of the song — a second guitar part, staying simple, refusing to be sucked into the tempting groove: remaining mature in the face of this outbreak. The simple rhythm plays the parental figure and vehicle, suffering little children, loading them into the station wagon and dropping the kids off at the local digs.
Add to that the Lydian spike — the F♯ against C — and the whole thing tilts at an angle. It’s wrong in the best way. Here the kids get the green light to wallow in all the things mom said not to do. That raised fourth is like a lightbulb buzzing overhead: sharp, bright, dissonant. You don’t tune it out; it drills into your skull. Have your fun now but remember you have school in the morning.
https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!6FhR!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fc52abf61-8786-4962-bb1d-7fa093265239_450x450.jpeg
And rhythmically? Forget standing comfort — relief only comes when you allow the voodoo to infect. The riff floats against the pulse just enough to make you second-guess where “one” lives. For the first few bars, it feels like a polyrhythm — two grids competing for your body. By the time the drums lock you in, you’re already off balance, swaying in someone else’s trance.
That’s the genius here. It’s not chops, it’s not flash — it’s manipulation. Musical deception is a sonic sweet nothing in your ear. It’s the proper use of mind trickery — for the enrichment of our lives. The riff in question lies to you, over and over, and you thank it for the privilege. By the time the song finally breaks into its long stoner jam, a feature considered necessary in that day (de rigueur even, all the kids were doing it!), it’s like someone opened a window in a stifling room. The exorcism after the possession.
There are grooves that get you moving, and then there are grooves that tear through your flesh, rip out your soul with clawed appendages, and claim it for themselves for the perverted and capricious pursuit of psychopathic entertainment. “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’” doesn’t just own you — it keeps tricking you into coming back, hoping that maybe this time the D will take its shoes off and sit a spell.
And that’s the secret in the sauce. The riff keeps promising resolution and never delivers, like Lucy pulling the football away from Charlie Brown every time, but damn if we don’t find ourselves trying to kick. Our definition of perfection requires adjustment — all the information is in and there is no more coming on this one. There is beauty in a superposition of understanding.
https://kevinboykin.substack.com/p/on-cant-you-hear-me-knockin-the-visitor?r=2ld5cy
Come Darken Our Doorsteps
https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!8ltW!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6f74d429-3935-49b4-8980-dbb7fc3df5b2_575x390.jpeg
Kevin Boykin
Nov 01, 2025
There are riffs you play, and there are riffs that play you. The opening of “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’” is the latter. You don’t so much hear it as you get stuck between its teeth.
It begins in D. Or at least, it feels like it does — and that’s the trick. That first gesture tells your ear, “settle here.” You wait for the verse to land in D, for the band to put down roots. But no — the floor slides, and suddenly you’re in C. You can call that a key change if you want, but it isn’t. It’s sleight of hand. It’s prestidigitation. Keith sets you up for one tonic and yanks it away.
And then the cycle begins. Each time that D comes around, you think maybe this time it will stick. Maybe this time the center will hold. It never does. Instead, the riff resets the illusion over and over, pulling you into a loop that never resolves. It’s tonal vertigo: permanent, deliberate.
At 24 seconds in, we get what ends up being the structure of the song — a second guitar part, staying simple, refusing to be sucked into the tempting groove: remaining mature in the face of this outbreak. The simple rhythm plays the parental figure and vehicle, suffering little children, loading them into the station wagon and dropping the kids off at the local digs.
Add to that the Lydian spike — the F♯ against C — and the whole thing tilts at an angle. It’s wrong in the best way. Here the kids get the green light to wallow in all the things mom said not to do. That raised fourth is like a lightbulb buzzing overhead: sharp, bright, dissonant. You don’t tune it out; it drills into your skull. Have your fun now but remember you have school in the morning.
https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!6FhR!,w_1456,c_limit,f_webp,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fc52abf61-8786-4962-bb1d-7fa093265239_450x450.jpeg
And rhythmically? Forget standing comfort — relief only comes when you allow the voodoo to infect. The riff floats against the pulse just enough to make you second-guess where “one” lives. For the first few bars, it feels like a polyrhythm — two grids competing for your body. By the time the drums lock you in, you’re already off balance, swaying in someone else’s trance.
That’s the genius here. It’s not chops, it’s not flash — it’s manipulation. Musical deception is a sonic sweet nothing in your ear. It’s the proper use of mind trickery — for the enrichment of our lives. The riff in question lies to you, over and over, and you thank it for the privilege. By the time the song finally breaks into its long stoner jam, a feature considered necessary in that day (de rigueur even, all the kids were doing it!), it’s like someone opened a window in a stifling room. The exorcism after the possession.
There are grooves that get you moving, and then there are grooves that tear through your flesh, rip out your soul with clawed appendages, and claim it for themselves for the perverted and capricious pursuit of psychopathic entertainment. “Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’” doesn’t just own you — it keeps tricking you into coming back, hoping that maybe this time the D will take its shoes off and sit a spell.
And that’s the secret in the sauce. The riff keeps promising resolution and never delivers, like Lucy pulling the football away from Charlie Brown every time, but damn if we don’t find ourselves trying to kick. Our definition of perfection requires adjustment — all the information is in and there is no more coming on this one. There is beauty in a superposition of understanding.
https://kevinboykin.substack.com/p/on-cant-you-hear-me-knockin-the-visitor?r=2ld5cy