Compact Disc Preservation Society

The Body, The Blood, The Machine

2007-01-28T22:45:00.000-05:00

Band: The Thermals

Released: 2006

I really blew it by not including The Body, The Blood, The Machine on my “Best of ’06” list. A concept album about a future dominated by conservative Christian fascists may sound a bit strident, and lyrics like “God told his son ‘it’s time to come home / I promise you won’t have to die all alone / I need you to pay for the sins I create’” wouldn’t necessarily dissuade someone from thinking otherwise. The Thermals, however, manage to pull it off with aplomb, by matching their words with energetic, careening melodies that create an added sense of urgency. It’s as though James Dobson is breathing right down the bands neck as they plow through “A Pillar of Salt,” or “Here’s Your Future.” TBTBTM may be a bit trad in its musical stylings, but the album makes for an exhilarating listening experience.

Top Ten of 2006

2007-01-07T22:32:00.000-05:00

Like death and taxes, year-end best-of lists are inevitable. Here’s my contribution to this swirling vortex of opinion:

Return to Cookie Mountain (TV On the Radio) – Light years ahead of their debut, TVOR have created a sound that is nearly uncategorizable – try indie rock/hip-hop/doo-wop and that still doesn’t come close. Listen to the sad groan of “I Was a Lover” or the punkish stomp of “Wolf Like Me” and hear a band coming to terms with their place in the world.

I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass (Yo La Tengo) – an impressive return to form that finds YLT once again mixing Velvet-inspired fuzz jams with AM Radio pop songs.

Pink (Boris) – Japanese noise bands like the Boredoms are some of the last artists I expect to embrace, but Boris broadens their thrash metal sound to include stoner rock, garage blues, and ambient textures, in turn creating a surprisingly engaging experience.

Serena-Maneesh (Serena-Maneesh) & Citrus (Asobi Seksu) – The two sides of the new shoegazer coin, with Serena-Maneesh going for the jam-based theatrics, while Asobi Seksu embrace their inner Blondie and churn out pop nuggets with oodles of guitar effects.

Nine Times the Same Song (Love Is All) – Post-punk grooves meet up with a cowbell-playing Swedish vocalist to create one of the more danceable albums of the year. Love Is All stir up an even more intense experience when seen in person.

Rather Ripped (Sonic Youth) – Sonic Youth head back to the economical Goo and Dirty for inspiration on Rather Ripped. If it were 1994, this album would be platinum.

Paper Television (The Blow) – The Blow make literate, catchy dance music that echoes both old-school Madonna and au courant glitchy indie pop. Very fun.

The Life Pursuit (Belle & Sebastian) – B&S smooth out some of the rough edges of Dear Catastrophe Waitress and fully embrace a fuller band sound for The Life Pursuit. The polar opposite of If You’re Feeling Sinister, but who wants another one of those ten years down the line?

Everything All the Time (Band of Horses) – The bastard child of Built to Spill and My Morning Jacket, and with “The Funeral,” Band of Horses created this year’s “BIC Lighter Moment” for indie rock.

Let’s Get Out of the Country (Camera Obscura) – Camera Obscura improves upon their prior work by upping the lushness and crafting fully realized compositions.

Under the Covers, Vol. 1

2006-12-05T23:15:00.000-05:00

Artists: Matthew Sweet & Susanna Hoffs
Released: 2006

The annual onslaught of year-end “Best Of” lists is almost upon us, and while it wouldn’t make my Top Ten for ‘06, Under the Covers has probably been the most compulsively listenable album I’ve picked up this year. Part of this is due to my personal obsession with Susanna Hoffs, which has been running unabated since I saw the “Manic Monday” video in 3rd grade. The other, far more important rationale for its placement in my stereo is the impeccable song selection by the two artists, which focuses exclusively on late ‘60s rock and pop compositions. Sweet and Hoffs tackle their fair share of musical war horses (“Cinnamon Girl,” “Different Drum,” and a terrific version of “The Kids Are Alright”), but they tend to focus more upon lesser known tracks from the likes of Marmelade (“I See the Rain”), the Zombies (“Care of Cell #44), and the Left Banke (“She May Call You Up Tonight”). They also add a few new twists to some of the songs, turning the Velvet’s “Sunday Morning” into a steel guitar-addled country-rock comedown, and fleshing out Fairport Convention’s “Who Knows Where the Time Goes?” with a full band accompaniment.

To be honest, the market for a disc like this is pretty small. You have your Matthew Sweet fans, your Susanna Hoffs obsessives (see above), and the music dorks who already own the original versions of all of these songs (you can’t see me, but I’m raising my hand now too). It’s too bad, because I think one listen to “And Your Bird Can Sing,” whether it’s by the Beatles, the Jam, or Sweet & Hoffs, can immediately bring to mind all that’s glorious about music. And that’s not a bad thing.

Dub Housing

2006-11-29T21:37:00.000-05:00

Artist: Pere Ubu
Released: 1978

Pere Ubu is the most important band to ever come out of Cleveland. Actually, I’d argue that they’re one of the more important bands of the last 30 years, but let’s start off small, shall we? Anyway, the Good Ship Ubu has influenced, in chronological order, the No-Wave movement (DNA, Mars,), the post-punkers (Gang of Four, Scritti Politti, and even U2), the New Romantics (those oddball synth lines from the first Duran Duran album had to come from somewhere), “college rock” (Sonic Youth being direct descendents, and anyone from R.E.M. to Death of Samantha drinking from the well), industrial (Ministry, Nine Inch Nails, et al), and a whole host of other genre offshoots that you haven’t even heard about.

So what makes Pere Ubu so damn irresistible to a generation of artists? If I had the wherewithal and the desire, I could probably write a term paper answering that question. Instead, I’ll give a Cliff Notes summary – the use of atonality and abstraction within the context of traditional pop music. Aside from the Velvet Underground, Captain Beefheart, the Stooges and a few other bands, popular music was either caught up in traditional harmonic structures or wanking around classic blues-based structures. Pere Ubu broke free of these traditional constraints by incorporating odd tunings, eschewing chords, employing fragmented lyrics, and using technology, specifically the synthesizer, to create white-noise landscapes and harrowing sound effects.

While their entire catalog is quite rewarding, Dub Housing stands out as their masterwork. It finds the band attempting to balance the experimental with the engaging, creating an album that is challenging, yet compulsively listenable. The noise collages of “Thriller!” and “Blow Daddy-o” butt heads with the creepy AM radio-isms of “Ubu Dance Party,” and the infinitely danceable “On the Surface.” An out-of-control bass drives “I Will Wait,” which sounds at home with the quiet/loud dynamics of “Caligari’s Mirror.”

That’s my case for Pere Ubu as Cleveland’s musical standard bearer, then. So when you think Cleveland music, don’t think Michael Stanley…please? Seriously, don’t think of Michael Stanley. I mean, I’m sure he’s a nice guy and all, but…

Serena Maneesh

2006-08-20T21:33:00.000-04:00

Artist: Serena Maneesh
Released: 2006

Etched on a clay tablet hidden in an ancient burial site deep in the heart of Syria are the Rules of Popular Music. Number one on the list is, “All trends must pass…and then return.” This is a lesson I learned the hard way in 1999. Just seven years earlier, it seemed as though “alternative rock” (a good deal of which wasn’t very good, by the way) had washed away the musical transgressions of manufactured pop and hair metal. Or so I thought. Actually, I remember telling my high school cohorts that we “won’t get fooled again.” That we late-term Gen Xrs and those behind us were far too savvy to fall for the major label swill that had been foisted upon our age bracket for the last three decades. Of course, that swill was being dumped upon us at that very moment, but I was more than willing to tolerate the Gin Blossoms, Silverchair, and god knows what else if meant never having to hear Slaughter or Perfect Gentlemen again. Jump ahead to the end of that decade, and we were stuck with Britney, N’Sync, O-Town, etc. I should have paid attention years ago to the final lyric in that Who song - “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”

I suppose, then, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that “shoegaze” would return to the musical fold (Quick digression: for those of you who don’t know, shoegaze was a movement in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s where bands layered heavy amounts of guitar, bass, and drums, shot them all through distortion pedals, and occasionally used some nifty vocal processing to make some pretty thundering music. In a live setting, all of this took a lot of work and prevented the artists from interacting much with the audience, hence the whole “shoegazer” term for the bands). Now that post-punk has eaten itself, and since no one but Kasabian wanted to relive Madchester, I guess it makes sense to revive this sound Like post-punk, it has the advantage of never having been too popular to burn itself out, especially outside of England. Unlike Madchester, it didn’t suck as a musical genre (apologies to the Stone Roses and two of the Happy Mondays’ songs). Anyway, Serena Maneesh brings in the noise and leaves out the funk with their self-titled release. The comparisons to My Bloody Valentine are obvious, so much so that some of the tracks sound like outtakes from Loveless. There’s also a bit of Spaceman 3 and Spiritualized to be found in the guitar scrawls that wend their way throughout the album. And aside from the overly indulgent “Your Blood In Mine,” the lengthy jams that dot the CD come off quite well.

The Woods

2006-07-04T21:01:00.000-04:00

Artist: Sleater-Kinney
Released: 2005

You remember that scene in “Romancing the Stone,” the one where Kathleen Turner and Michael Douglas are sitting in a wreck of an airplane and Douglas finds an old issue of Rolling Stone? He flips through it and suddenly shouts, “Shit, the Doobie Brothers broke up!” That’s how I felt last Tuesday upon learning of Sleater-Kinney’s “indefinite hiatus.” I could go on and on about the beauty of their interlocking guitars, Janet Weiss’ thunderous drumming, the power of Corrin Tucker’s vocals and Carrie Brownstine’s counterpoint to them, the political and personal consciousness of their lyrics, and the holy hell their music raised both live and on record, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll simply say I loved them, and now their gone, just like everything else that runs its course.

Oh, The Woods. It’s their masterpiece, and the highest of notes to leave on. If you don’t own it, buy it, then pickup Dig Me Out, and Call the Doctor and…

Everything All the Time

2006-06-13T19:48:00.000-04:00

Artist: Band of Horses
Released: 2006

An Open Letter to Band of Horses:

Let me start off by saying I like your album. Actually, I like your album a lot. You recall Built To Spill and My Morning Jacket without their occasional guitar wankery, and your lead singer reminds me of the guy from your Sub Pop brethren The Shins. Your songs are big and spacious, indulging in the dynamics of band interplay and production. Really, I have no complaints…except for Sunday night. During what was an otherwise fine set, you took a detour and covered Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams.” Now, I don’t have a problem with Hall & Oates. I do, however, have a problem with trying to make the song “sexy” by slowing down the groove and sounding like a bad cover band at a frat party. You know what kind of band I’m talking about – they think they can do “Let’s Get It On” because the Tri Delts scream for it and Jack Black pulled it off in “High Fidelity.” Really, you were about two steps away from 311 territory with that song. Anyway, keep up the good work, and maybe rethink your third to last song every night. Just a suggestion.

Sincerely,
Art Vandelay

New Adventures In Hi-Fi

2006-05-29T23:10:00.000-04:00

Artist: REM
Released: 1996

I was in Vienna recently and found myself at the Austrian equivalent of a college bar. Sure, the beer was better, it was cleaner, and it stayed open until 5 AM, but the general atmosphere wasn’t far removed from an off-campus watering hole. Like the sorority sisters whose pledge class theme song gets played on the jukebox, the majority of the bar’s patrons were singing along to every song. Of course, with the US’ cultural hegemony being what it is these days, nearly every track was English. Kanye West, Gwen Stefani, Bon Jovi, and, um, Survivor were sung with gusto. What was mildly surprising, however, was the presence of three REM songs, by far the most of any one artist that evening.

REM, while still an immensely popular band in most of the western world, has seen their popularity plummet in the US. The band’s most recent effort, Around the Sun, didn’t even manage to go gold – a sales threshold that they had once been able to reach within the first few weeks of a release. The beginning of the end for REM as a “hits” generating band can be traced to New Adventures In Hi-Fi. Written and recorded while on the road in 1995 and 1996, NAIHF was the follow-up to their most commercially successful album, Monster, which sold over five million copies in the US alone. Unfortunately, NAIHF was preceded by two poorly chosen singles (the great “E-Bow the Letter,” and the not-so-great “Bittersweet Me”) and sold just under two million copies before disappearing from the charts.

The relative failure of NAIHF obscures the fact that it’s one of REM’s most underrated albums. Seeking to move beyond Monster’s effects-pedal motif, the album finds the band embracing an eclectic style of song. The big guitar sound remains on tracks like “Wake-Up Bomb” and “Departure,” but the acoustic approach of Out of Time and Automatic For the People returns with “New Test Leper” and “Electrolyte.” A track like “Leave” finds REM combining a vintage synthesizer and churning rhythm to create something wholly different from the rest of their catalog, while “How the West Was Won” takes a Nick Cave/Tom Waits groove and imbues it with the Southern gothicness of their earliest albums.

Back to that bar in Vienna. After “It’s the End of the World…,” I told one of my drinking companions, who originally hailed from Macedonia, how surprised I was to hear three REM songs that evening. She said, and I paraphrase, “C’mon, REM is on the radio all of the time. Of course everyone knows their songs.” For a moment, I thought it was 1993 all over again.

For God sake, blog already!

2006-04-19T21:37:00.000-04:00

As the two of you who read this site have noticed, the posting as of late has been non-existent. I'm going on a temporary hiatus until mid-May or so. Until then...

The Black Album

2006-03-21T20:51:00.000-05:00

Artist: Prince
Released: Unofficially, 1987; Officially, 1994

Unreleased albums tend to develop their own mythology, becoming “lost classics” that reveal the genius of their composers. In most cases, however, the albums should have stayed “lost.” Prince, he of the 500 unreleased songs, is no exception to this rule. His infamous Black Album was supposed to hit the streets in late 1987, not that long after the double album Sign O’ the Times was released. Just a few weeks before its debut, the project was shelved, and all copies of the album were destroyed. Some said Prince felt uncomfortable releasing such a dark and sexually aggressive album (yeah, right), while others believed his label found it to be “unmarketable.” Some promotional copies that were sent to radio survived, so the album lived in bootlegged perpetuity until Warner Bros. quietly released it in 1994.

What’s evident upon first listen is that the album isn’t particularly good. “Le Grind” and “Cindy C.” are pretty good dance tracks that would have sounded at home on SOTT, and “Two Nigs United 4 West Compton” is grounded in a James Brown-style funk workout. The rest of the album traffics in uninspired jams (“Dead On It”), R&B treacle (“When 2 R In Love”), and an awkward rap parody entitled “Bob George,” that proves the Purple One never had a good handle on hip-hop.

One could argue that the Black Album was the beginning of the end for Prince as a consistent album artist (although Around the World In a Day, released in 1985, wasn’t exactly Revolver). Lovesexy was uneven, the Batman soundtrack forgettable, and Diamonds & Pearls half good. Even the Symbol album, his last truly consistent work, was mired in a convoluted narrative. As for the rest of this '90s and early '00s, the less said the better.

Standing In the Way of Control

2006-03-07T16:52:00.000-05:00

Artist: The Gossip
Released: 2006

The Gossip live & in person:

1. Mothers’ Day 2000, Grog Shop (Old)
Opening for Sleater-Kinney (and thus being involved in the “Greatest Concert I’ve Ever Witnessed,” which is different than the “Greatest Performance I’ve Ever Witnessed), the band consists of a lead singer, a guitarist eating an ice cream popsicle, a drummer, and two “dancers,” one of whom looks like the woman who stole Rachel’s washing machine at the laundromat in an early “Friends” episode. Twenty seconds into their first song, Beth Ditto (the lead singer) stops the song, complains about the heat at the club, and then proceeds to take her shirt off and start over again. The band tears through ten songs in about fifteen minutes.

2. June 2001, Grog Shop (Old)
The band returns sans dancers and plays a similar, but lengthier set. The songs still clock in at 1:30, but the concluding “We Need a Revolution” lasts for nearly ten minutes. Ditto exhorts all the “queers and queens” to start the revolution. Although this technically excludes me, the six Straub’s I’ve had put me right in the thick of the sing-a-long.

3. July 2004, Grog Shop (New)
Performing at one of the first shows at the newly constructed Grog Shop, the Gossip plays material from its new, and somewhat more complex, album. The giant A/C unit at the center of the club alleviates any potential heat problems.

4. September 2005, Grog Shop (New) Playing tracks from the soon-to-be-released Standing In the Way of Control, the Gossip summon their inner Donna Summer and get discotastic for half of the show, reflecting the band’s new direction. There’s also enough garage rock to keep the faithful happy.

Tuesday Night Music Club

2006-02-28T20:07:00.000-05:00

Artist: Sheryl Crow
Released: 1994

Do record clubs still exist? I ask this because I haven’t received one of their direct-mail packets in years. Have they disappeared, or are they involved in some sort of internet subterfuge; luring people in through endless spam that still promises “12 CDs for the price of 1.” Although Columbia House and BMG were, well, rip offs, they could be used to the subscriber’s advantage. The key, at least with Columbia House, was to ignore the rules. Sure, you paid for that one CD and the shipping fees for the other titles, but after that you just skipped purchasing “3 CDs at club price.” They would send you letters from “collection agencies” that demanded the money, but the company had no legal power to actually follow up its threats.
BMG tried a different tact to sucker you into purchasing CDs. They would send you a postcard every month with the club’s “official selection.” If you didn’t want the title, you sent the postcard back. If you did, or just forgot to send it, you received the CD. Although I learned to just send the actual CD back upon its arrival, I did find myself paying for and keeping the title the first time it happened. Hence, Tuesday Night Music Club. I believe I listened to this album once. It then proceeded to sit untouched in my collection for around three years, until my junior year college roommate found it and began to play “Can’t Cry Anymore” incessantly. I actually gave him the CD to keep, but it ended up back in my possession at the end of the year. There it sits, unopened for nearly nine years, which is almost as long as my copy of Mercury Rev’s Deserter’s Songs (but that’s for another entry).

Love Story

2006-02-22T20:12:00.000-05:00

Artist: Love
Released: 1995

This past summer, Love toured Europe without its chief singer/songwriter, Arthur Lee. Initial reports claimed that Lee was physically ill and could not make the trek. By December of 2005, Love, currently made up of members of the L.A. band Baby Lemonade and original Love guitarist Johnny Echols, decided to boot Lee out of the band. According to the band, he had become “increasingly erratic” and “delusional,” making working conditions nearly untenable. Arthur Lee now finds himself in a Brian Wilson-like situation – shut out from the band he founded and guided for decades.

Love often seems stuck in a musical liminality – a little too well known to be a true “cult” band, but not on the radar of the average listener. Although they were the first rock band signed to Elektra (ahead of The Doors, who they introduced to Elektra head Jac Holzman), and were a big influence on contemporaries like Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin, Love never achieved the same level of notoriety as their L.A. mates The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield. The band’s refusal to tour extensively didn’t help, nor did Lee’s unwillingness to play the promotional game. Throw in the usual drug excesses, and the initial incarnation of the band imploded after only three years, leaving a small, and, at that point, an increasingly diminished legacy.

The best and most influential of the band’s output comes from their 1965-1968 period, which is covered on the first CD of Love Story. Lee and co-songwriter Bryan MacLean initially focused on Byrdisan rock like “Can’t Explain” or the garage sounds of “My Flash On You,” but soon moved to more complex structure and arrangements. “Orange Skies” finds the band employing woodwinds and jazz chords, while “She Comes In Colors” is knee deep in psychedelia (and also provides the basic structure for Madonna’s “Beautiful Stranger”). All of this was a precursor for their third album, Forever Changes (included here in its entirety). One of the preeminent albums of the ‘60s, Forever Changes finds the band expanding their sound even further. Full string arrangements can be found on tracks like “The Good Humor Man He Sees Everything Like This” and “Andmoreagain,” while a mariachi band makes its way onto “Alone Again Or.” The grandeur of the music, however, belies the acid-induced paranoia of songs like “The Red Telephone” and “A House Is Not a Motel” (a complete flop in the US, the album made it into the Top 20 in England).

Lee disbanded Love upon Forever Changes release, then quickly reformed the band with other musicians in 1969. Two rather average albums followed (found on the second CD of Love Story), and Lee eventually began to tour with a revolving group of musicians, sporadically releasing new material or live albums. He did some time in jail in the late ‘90s, and upon his release reformed the band to great critical acclaim and two successful tours in 2002 and 2003. Unfortunately, it seems Lee’s demons have caught up with, casting doubt over whether he’ll ever return to the public eye.

CMJ New Music Sampler: September 1998

2006-02-20T21:23:00.000-05:00

As promised, the return of the CMJ Sampler. Leaner, fitter, happier.

Elliott Smith “Waltz #2” – A pretty fantastic song that showed what Smith could do with more than a four-track recorder. By the way, it’s about a karaoke bar.

Bill Fox “Bonded To You” – Fox was the main songwriter for an unfortunately short-lived Cleveland band named The Mice, which was the bastard child of the Replacements and Husker Du. In a perfect world, they would have soundtracked “Say Anything.”

Embrace “All You Good Good People” – Didn’t I refer to these guys as “dregs” in the Elastica review? This serves as additional evidence to my statement.

Catatonia “Road Rage” – This was a huge hit in Britain in ’98. Sounds like Garbage. The band, of course…I guess.

Tripping Daisy “Sonic Bloom” – Creators of the supremely annoying ’95 sorta hit “I Got a Girl.” Now, former lead singer Tim DeLaughter is best known as the head of the supremely annoying Polyphonic Spree.

Ednaswap “Back On the Sun” – I believe this band wrote Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn.” The initial royalties were certainly nice, but now? I mean, does anyone ever hear this song on the radio anymore?

Black Eyed Peas “Que Dices?” – Long before they asked us to get retarded, or not to phunk with their hearts, the BEP were an “alt-rap” act that looked to the Pharcyde and the Roots for inspiration. It’s fairly amusing to hear the band dropping f-bombs left and right amid pop-unfriendly beats, and then realize they’ll be rapping lines like “milky, milky cocoa puffs” seven years later.

Elastica

2006-02-13T20:34:00.000-05:00

Artist: Elastica
Released: 1995

Elastica’s debut album can easily turn into a game of “Spot the Music Reference.” Actually, it’s more than just a “reference.” How about “Spot the Stolen Song?” Wire’s “I Am the Fly” is turned into “Line Up,” while their “Three Girl Rhumba” serves as the basis for “Connected.” The Stranglers also appear in the form of “Waking Up,” which employs “No More Heroes” as a melodic base. This could have been disastrous for the band. Luckily, the songs rocked, and their listening audience was too young to remember when The Stranglers battled both the Bee Gees and Cliff Richards for chart domination.

Elastica has held up better than most albums from the Britpop era, primarily because it looked forwards while looking backwards, instead of looking backwards. While big guns like Blur and Oasis, not to mention dregs like Hurricane #1 and Embrace, borrowed liberally from the ‘60s while hewing closely to a ‘90s sound, Elastica looked to ‘70s punk and ‘80s post punk for inspiration. With the rise of dance-punk, post-post-punk, and indie rock, one could argue that bands like Wire, Blondie, ESG, and the Slits have been far more influential over the past five years than some of the more classic rock combos. The jerky disco rhythms of “Hold Me Now,” the primal punk of “Annie” and “All-Nighter,” and the noise-fest that is “Connection” don’t sound out-of-place next to Franz Ferdinand, the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s, or the Arctic Monkeys.

A lot could, and certainly has, been written on the re-use of musical ideas along the pop spectrum. While the birth of sampling ended the debate in hip-hop, rock still finds itself struggling with issues of originality. At this point, the deciding factor seems to be a subjective opinion on an artist’s influences. Copying from the Velvet Underground, the Pixies, Glenn Branca, or Orange Juice? You’re in. Copping moves from Korn or Days of the New? Try again. Elastica made the right choices, therefore keeping their “cool” tag for future generations.

De Stijl

2006-02-12T19:26:00.000-05:00

Artist: The White Stripes
Released: 2000

The White Stripes pulled a fast one on the viewers of the 2004 Grammy Awards. No, they didn’t bring Soy Bomb out of retirement, nor did they collaborate with Chingy on “Right Thurr.” Instead, the band opted to segue from “Seven Nation Army” to “Death Letter” midway through their performance. Nearly obscured by the blinding display of strobe lights behind him, Jack White tore off a slide guitar solo that was breathtaking in both its speed and efficiency. They used to call it “cutting” back in the day, and it often occurred when two bluesmen would challenge each other for bragging rights over the fastest and dirtiest licks that could be squeezed out of their guitars. Jack was at the proverbial crossroads that evening, channeling the Deep South circa 1937.

“Death Letter” can be found on De Stijl, which may still be the definitive statement from the White Stripes. Their sound and songwriting has been refined on subsequent albums, but it’s here the band explores their roots most thoroughly. The Zeppelin strut of “Why Can’t You Be Nicer To Me” is found next to the Stooges thrash of “Let’s Build a Home,” which isn’t far away from the Beatleisms of “Apple Blossom” or the folk-psych of “I’m Bound To Pack It Up.” One could argue that the Flat Duo Jets and Jon Spencer Blues Explosion mined the alternative garage-blues sound first, but the White Stripes have taken the concept to a different level.

Station To Station

2006-02-02T18:51:00.000-05:00

Artist: David Bowie
Released: 1976

Everybody has their favorite Bowie period. Some cling to the Ziggy Stardust persona, while others swear by his Berlin phase. There are also three people who bow to the altar of his Tonight and Never Let Me Down period, but they live in Belgium and will be summarily executed for their taste transgressions. Personally, I’ve always found the initial Thin White Duke/Man Who Fell To Earth era to be his most intriguing. Let’s see…he was subsisting on milk, green peppers, and massive quantities of cocaine, weighed 120 lbs, thought there were aliens living underneath his bed and in his closet, and would stay up for four days straight drawing pentagrams on his living room floor. Good times.

What’s most impressive about this period, aside from his ability to stay alive, is the quality of the music. David himself admits he couldn’t tell you anything about recording Station To Station - all of his memories were lost to Bolivia’s biggest export. The muse, however, was clearly working in his favor. Taking the white soul and disco of Young American’s to delirious extremes, while foreshadowing the airy dynamics of his Eno albums, STS finds Bowie developing his first truly original sound. Syncopated drums and effects-laden guitars drive most of the songs, providing the pop hit in “Golden Years” and coming to their most gonzo fruition in the incomprehensible “TVC 15.” The album also contains one of Bowie’s best songs in the title track, a ten-minute opus that builds slowly before shooting off into hyperspace with the artist singing how “It’s not the effects of the cocaine.” Actually, it was, which is how the song ended up being ten minutes long. It worked in your favor, though.

I don’t think Station To Station is underrated, but I do feel as though it’s often overlooked in the grand scheme of Bowie’s career. Definitely a transition album, it was a precursor to the artist’s most fruitful and rewarding period. He also never quite circled back to this recording’s sound, thus giving the album a unique place in his oeuvre. This is unfortunate, really, since it may have saved the public from Never Let Me Down (he did, by the way).

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

2006-01-31T22:27:00.000-05:00

Artist: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Released: 2005

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
Are critical darlings but
Seem so average

Arular

2006-01-30T21:34:00.000-05:00

Artist: M.I.A.
Released: 2005

One of the dangers of politicking in pop music is its reductive nature (something I’ve already discussed in this post). A byproduct of this is the sloganeering that wends its way into the music. Pop is made for sloganeering – nothing works better for a chorus than an easily remembered phrase that can be repeated ad infinitum over four minutes. Unfortunately, slogans don’t provide for a thorough understanding of one’s subject, which, I suppose, is the beauty of the method. Politicians long ago realized the value of a catchphrase (“Tippecanoe & Tyler Too” anyone), and when you marry it to some strong imagery, you have a winning combination (just ask Mussolini). A band like Rage Against the Machine always seemed to inadvertently indulge in this sloganeering, in turn marring their sincere political beliefs.

Thanks to cultural and music critics, M.I.A. finds herself thrust into a very similar place in the music world. She has the background (her father’s a Tamil Tiger rebel in Sri Lanka), and about half of her songs are filled with revolutionary politics, which tend to crop up in titles like “Pull Up the People” or lyrics like “I’ve got the bombs that make you blow,” or “Thinking ‘bout where I come / It’s all this for revolution.” It seems to me, however, that this politicking is in fact secondary to the music itself. A mélange of synthetic beats, analog synths and various samples, Arular pulls from sources as diverse as reggaeton and drum & bass to concoct an alternative to American hip-hop. The production gives the album a “home-grown” feel that speaks to the DIY attitude and image of M.I.A. herself. Pseudo-uprisings never sounded this good.

I’m curious to see in what direction M.I.A.’s music moves. Beats become quickly antiquated in today’s hip hop/dance scene, and the rapid cannibalization of global sounds creates a small window for something like diwali or baille funk to sound truly fresh. Lyrically, it will be interesting to see her flesh out the themes that pop up throughout the album. Whatever the case, Arular stands as an important document of the cultural stew of music at the midpoint of this decade. If only Usher should be so inspired…

Mr. Tambourine Man

2006-01-22T20:42:00.000-05:00

Artist: The Byrds
Released: 1965

When I die and (fingers crossed) proceed to heaven, it will be the sound of Roger McGuinn’s 12-string greeting me at the gates. Chiming, ringing, capable of both intricate contrapuntal melodies and a wall of treble, the Rickenbacker is damn near perfect at expressing whatever emotion the player wishes to convey. It’s even better when it’s recorded in mono, pushed to the front of a mix that’s crammed with drums, bass, lead guitar, tambourines, harmonies, phase shifting, and one hundred monkeys banging out MacBeth on typewriters.

Mr. Tambourine Man introduces this formula to great effect. Although the band was a bit pithy with their compositions (only 5 of the 12 tracks were originals), they had the good sense to cover Dylan four times. The title track may have been the apotheosis of “folk rock,” but “Spanish Harlem Incident,” “Chimes of Freedom,” and “All I Really Want To Do” are just as good at breaking down the artificial genre barriers that had been drawn at Top 40 radio. As for those aforementioned originals, “I Knew I’d Want You” and “You Won’t Have To Cry” show a surprising level of sophistication, while “I’d Feel a Whole Lot Better” may have been the greatest non-hit of the 1960s. The sound, however, is king in these songs, placing The Byrds right up there with the Beatles and Velvet Underground when it comes to a post ‘60s musical influence.

So, Mr. Rickenbacker, I’ll catch you in, say, sixty years. If I hear Journey after I’ve left this life, then I know I’m headed in the wrong direction.

CMJ New Music Monthly CD: October 1996

2006-01-18T22:23:00.000-05:00

As those of you over the age of 24 may remember, it used to be rather difficult to discover new, non-mainstream music. You either relied upon word-of-mouth, magazines, or your local college radio station for suggestions. Unfortunately, the first two couldn’t actually provide you with the music (unless one of your friends was a mix tape fiend), so you were inevitably stuck trying to determine whether a new band really could sound like Nine Inch Nails AND Wilco. CMJ New Music Monthly attempted to remedy this situation by providing a free CD with new music every month. Every month! Free CDs may seem quaint nowadays, but at the time, it was pretty exciting. I subscribed for about two and a half years during the ‘90s, collecting a good 30 or so discs from the period. I think I stopped the subscription for three reasons: 1.) there was a definite quality drop-off for both the magazines and the CDs, 2.) I learned that labels paid $1000 to get their songs on the CD, so track lists weren’t necessarily an editorial decision, and 3). I made a greater effort to diversify my sources for new music. Looking back, however, one may find the selections to be funny, absurd, and a bit prescient in terms of a band’s future success. I’ve decided, then, to take one of these CDs every couple of weeks and do a track-by-track review of its contents. Enjoy.

Tracy Bonham “The One” – her follow-up to “Mother, Mother”. You remember the song. Crazy violin, then-ubiquitous soft/loud dynamics. This reminds me of that weird period from mid 1994 until early 1997 when “alternative” had been completely co-opted by the major labels, but they couldn’t figure out what did and didn’t work. Since they didn’t have a clue, they would just pitch everything to Modern Rock Radio in the hopes that something would stick.

Eels “Your Lucky Day In Hell” – I remember when he released his first couple albums as E, and had a minor college radio hit with “Hello Cruel World” in ’91. He used to sing in a Beatles falsetto back then.

Finn Brothers “Only Talking Sense” – decent post-Crowded House song. Let’s see…what else…um, yeah, that’s about it.

Nil Lara “Baby” – I think we all know how Nil Lara revolutionized music in the late 1990s, so I don’t want to bore anyone by rehashing his accomplishments

Les Claypool & the Holy Mackerel “Holy Mackerel” – in my Supergroup from Hell (which may or may not include C.C. DeVille on lead guitar, Paul Stanley on rhythm guitar, and Alex Van Halen on drums), Les Claypool would play bass.

Fun Lovin’ Criminals “Scooby Snacks” – CMJ was on this one a couple months before it was popular. That Pulp Fiction intro couldn’t be more dated.

Speedball Baby “Rubber Connection” – this is sooooooo 1996.

NY Loose “Spit” – before the revival of the New York scene in 2000, there was supposed to be another revival in the mid-90s featuring bands like D Generation and NY Loose. Didn’t happen.

Holly McNarland “Stormy” – Next.

Catherine Wheel “Heal 2” – We’re not shoegazers, we’re not Britpop, we’re Catherine Wheel! Love us, please.

Sam Phillips “Power World” – now performs the incidental music for “Gilmore Girls.”

Emmet Swimming “Arlington” – remember when I said that Speedball Baby song was 1996? This is really, really 1996.

Red House Painters “All Mixed Up” – a typically low-key cover of the Cars by everybody’s favorite down-tempo group. Used in a Gap commercial in ’99.

Congo Norvell “The Girl Who Would Be King” – somebody thinks she’s Siouxsie Sioux.

Metal Molly “Orange” – yes, they are as bad as their name implies.

The Damned “Shut It (Cleopatra Re-Mix)” – OK cut by the punk stalwarts, but I have no idea what was remixed.

Victor DeLorenzo “Blind” – who are these people?

Headcrash “Safehouse” – after listening to this, I’ve determined that Headcrash may have been the formative musical influence on Fred Durst.

Brian McMahon “Made For Each Other” – Hmmm. Not bad. Where have you gone, Brian McMahon?

Alright, this didn’t go as well as I thought, but I’m not abandoning the idea. Perhaps I’ll limit the reviews to “highlights” next time.

Funeral

2006-01-17T18:42:00.000-05:00

Artist: The Arcade Fire
Released: 2004

I had initially written an entire review for this album, and posted it for all of five minutes before I had second thoughts about its content. Cliche-ridden, stilted, and without a proper ending, the piece was dreadful (then again, some may say the same regarding all of my posts). The album is fantastic, representing a cross between the overbearing and intimate, and focusing upon loss with an undercurrent of hope. Really, just go and buy it if you don't already own it.

Luckily, I had the opportunity to see the Arcade Fire before the Rolling Stone, Spin, and New York Times articles; before they toured with U2, and had their song "Wake Up" serve as Bono & Co.'s entrance music. The album had been released in October 2004 to no fanfare, save for a glowing review on Pitchfork's website. I picked up the album, loved it, and proceeded to check them out a month later at the Beachland Ballroom. Expecting a smallish crowd, I was taken aback when around 400 people showed up. I was even more amazed that the crowd already knew the words to every song. It was a rare moment of foreshadowing that I was privileged to be a part of.

That's it. Now go and buy the album. I'm waiting...you haven't logged off yet. Oh, you're buying it online? OK, that's cool.

Black Power: Music of a Revolution

2006-01-16T19:53:00.000-05:00

Released: 2004

Lyrically, the contemporary hip-hop/R&B landscape is a wasteland. Scratch that. Content-wise, the lyrics of contemporary hip-hop and R&B are a wasteland. There’s still a clever turn-of-phrase here and there, and some artists like the semi-retired Jay Z and Nas can create some pretty intricate wordplay in their songs. The substance of these tracks, however, leaves much to be desired. Singing about one’s humps, or another’s “laffy taffy,” or perhaps the magic of “sex weed,” doesn’t really make for compelling music. Now, there is always room for the salacious, the absurd, and the pornographic in pop music – to expect high-minded treatises on love, liberty, and secular humanism is to be isolated from the lingua franca of 13-24 year olds. The pervasiveness of these bottom-scraping lyrics, however, is a bit depressing. I think it says a lot that Kanye West’s “Golddigger,” an OK song in which our man both praises and criticizes a woman of expensive taste and gives shout-outs to “pre-nups,” is considered one of the lyrical high-water marks of ’05 pop (Now when he accuses the government of spreading AIDS in “Heard ‘Em Say?” That’s awesome).

In stark contrast to this milieu stands Black Power: Music of a Revolution. Compiled from recordings from the golden era of black activism, Black Power finds both mainstream and fringe artists promoting economic and civil justice for African-Americans. Thirty five years on, it’s surprising to hear a band like the Temptations doing “Message From a Black Man,” or the Chi-Lites singing “Give More Power To the People,” and find out that said songs were Top 40 hits (or, in the case of the Isley Brothers’ “Fight the Power,” Top 10). Admittedly, these compositions were not incendiary. They dealt with the movement in rather general terms, vacillating between the demands of the O’Jays “Give the People What They Want,” to the self-improvement anthem of the Staple Singers’ “Respect Yourself.”

For the unadulterated take on black power, one must turn to the audio clips scattered throughout the CD. Featuring snippets of speeches from Huey Newton, H. Rap Brown, and other leading figures of the movement, these sound bites represent black power at its most vital and extreme. What’s fascinating about these men and women was their desire to overthrow not only the country’s socially entrenched racism, but also its economic system. Capitalism was built upon slavery and had led to the social stratification of African Americans; therefore, only through the end of capitalism could any equality be achieved. Their ideal methods of bringing about this revolution, primarily violent in content, ostracized them from other leaders of the movement, and in turn buried their radical social agenda.

With the cyclical nature of the music industry, there’s always a chance that socially relevant material will trickle back into the hip-hop milieu. It’s been over fifteen years since Public Enemy, KRS-One, and the “Golden Age of Hip-Hop” consistently tackled country’s social ills. Until their successors arrive, we’ll be stuck with “Grillz” and “Stay Fly.” Lucky us.

The Beatles aka The White Album

2006-01-11T21:13:00.000-05:00

Artist: The Beatles
Released: 1968

Far too much ink (or bytes, I suppose) has been spilled upon the Beatles. Everyone knows the songs, the stories behind the songs, the stories behind the stories behind the songs, Ringo’s favorite cereal, etc. This is especially unfortunate for me, since I have to review 21 of their albums for this blog. I’ll do my best to keep it fresh. So, without further ado, the “Five Worst Songs On ‘The White Album.’”

Honorable Mention:
Wild Honey Pie
You know, the Pixies covered this song. That’s kind of funny, right? I mean, the
world certainly doesn’t need another version of “Yesterday.”

5. Revolution #9
I give John Lennon mad props for placing this unwieldy nine minute sound collage on
the album, and in turn frightening countless numbers of Beatles fans. Unfortunately, it’s
still a sound collage.

4. Piggies
A painful attempt at social commentary by George Harrison. This is one area where the
Kinks could kick the Beatles’ ass on a regular basis.

3. Cry Baby Cry
Lennon’s “I need to have as many cuts as Paul on the album” song. Let’s see…”The king
of Marigold was in the kitchen / Cooking breakfast for the queen / The queen was in the
parlor / Playing piano for the children of the king.” Donovan called. He wants his outtake
back.

2. Good Night
Proof that Lennon could outschlock McCartney on any given day.

1. Honey Pie
Manages to encapsulate every bad tendency in McCartney’s writing – Tin Pan Alley
melodies, simpering vocals, and a dreadful narrative lyric. Paul would eventually become
even more cloying on subsequent albums.

I Could Be Happy: The Best of Altered Images

2006-01-10T22:38:00.000-05:00

Artist: Altered Images
Released:1997

Not that anyone remembers this, but Nickelodeon was commercial free during its early, Lewis & Clark years on cable TV. This inevitably led to gaps in programming, with nothing but dead air separating Pinwheel from The Tomorrow People. To remedy the situation, the channel would air music videos. Mind you, music videos were still somewhat of a novelty. MTV was only a year old, while VH1 and Friday Night Videos were but a glimmer in Viacom’s eye.

I’m certain that Nickelodeon aired a variety of clips, but the only two I remember were Billy Joel’s “Pressure,” and Altered Images’ “Happy Birthday.” Anything involving Billy Joel can be a life-scarring event, so the less said about him the better. “Happy Birthday,” on the other hand, was fantastic. Arguably one of the happiest songs ever written, “HB” is chock full of rolling tom-toms, scratchy yelping guitars, and a lead singer who sounds permanently attached to a helium tank. The song was so catchy that I…promptly forgot about it for, oh, about 21 years. It was only through the miracle of VH1 Classic (I should write a blog about that channel alone) that I reconvened with the band.

I Could Be Happy: The Best of Altered Images contains “Happy Birthday” and some other tracks from their brief career. A non-entity in the US, the band scored a few Top Ten hits in England during the country’s “anything goes” era of pop music (I’ll explain this in another review, I swear). The early songs find the band mining a Siouxsie-light sound, while the latter compositions are straight-up new wave deliciousness. The band also manages to find an undercurrent of sadness amid the pop assault via their lyrics, which dabble in the fecund themes of longing and regret.

I still can’t figure out how Nickelodeon latched on to Altered Images. Perhaps the video and the song were innocuous enough to appeal to the pre-adolescent audience. I guess its other option would have been Ronnie James Dio running around in a bearskin with a broadsword, slaying hunchbacks in a castle. “Holy Diver” or “Happy Birthday?” Yeah, I thought so.

Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain

2006-01-09T16:56:00.000-05:00

Artist: Pavement
Released: 1994

The death of indie rock occurred sometime around 1988. Or around 1994, although some would swear that 1999 or 2003 saw the genre's final demise. What the hell does "indie rock" even represent anymore? It's bbecome the 21st century version of "alternative rock," which officially lost all meaning during the 1990s, when it contained both Jewel and the Gin Blossoms under its auspices.

Technically, indie rock refers to bands that are signed to independent labels - i.e. labels that are not affiliated with any of the majors (Sony, WEA, etc.). Indie bands, therefore, should not be subject to the following:

bidding wars
being plied with booze and cocaine by the A&D representative
indignaties like appearing at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on the UPS float, or the latest craptastic WB sitcom ("seriously, you guys were great on 'What I Like About You'")
getting screwed over on both royalties and "advances"
getting dropped after one album when they sell under 300,000 units

The term "indie," however, now seems to refer to any artist that isn't usually played on commercial radio, or is featured on "The O.C." while Ryan or Seth are brooding.

This brings us to Pavement. They could sense the demise of a scene that had flourished during the '80s and had begun to peter out after the success of Nirvana and the subsequent rape and pillaging by the majors. Ditching the lo-fi aesthetic that screamed "indie" to so many disaffected college radio DJs (yeah, you knew at least one in school), the band beefed up their production and wrote a song cycle about the, well, death of indie rock. Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain finds the band diving headfirst into the then-current state of modern/alt music and in turn wallowing in the long-dead mythology of rock & roll. Rock's cult of personality is dredged up with "Silence Kit," which borrows the melody of Buddy Holly's "Everyday," and is concluded later with the Fall-ish "Hit the Plane Down." "Cut Your Hair" takes a crack at the major label machine, while "Elevate Me Later" and "Range Life" find the band ruminating on the travails of touring.

I would go on about their sound, which one critic described as Sonic Youth meets the Fall meets the Beach Boys, but I'll save that for one of their other albums. I will say, though, that I love Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain more than my sister. Actually, I don't have a sister, so, um, forget I wrote that.

Their Satanic Majesties Request

2006-01-07T18:21:00.000-05:00

Artist: Rolling Stones
Released: 1967

Look at them. Look at how supremely unhappy they are in their getups. Charlie resembles a reject from “The Merchant of Venice,” while Mick seems poised to animate mops and buckets in order to clean the castle. Keith cradles his tabla, waiting to pounce upon Brian for coming up with this whole ridiculous scenario.

Blame the Beatles. They had the burden of being the tastemakers in popular music, inadvertently prompting hundreds of bands to grow out their hair and overdub sitars on every song. Unfortunately, any missteps they made along the way, like, say, the lack of any real “concept” on a supposed “concept album” like Sgt. Pepper, would inevitably be exploited by other artists. Which brings us back to the Stones and Their Majesty’s Satanic Request. It’s not a bad album, per se. “She’s a Rainbow” is great; “2000 Light Years From Home” is even better. “Citadel” is an underrated rocker, and “2000 Man” is a nice continuation of the sound they developed on Between the Buttons. After that, though, it’s slim pickings. No one should be forced to listen to “Gomper,” and “On With the Show” takes everything bad about the British music hall sound and condenses it into one track. In a truly impressive feat, “Sing This All Together (See What Happens),” not to be confused with the barely superior “Sing This All Together” that starts the album, manages to be both devoid of melody and any interesting ideas. Kudos, Mr. Jagger and Mr. Richards.

The record buying public was not impressed with TSMR, and the album tanked upon release (mind you, these are the same consumers that made Herman’s Hermits unconscionably popular, so let’s not give them too much credit for their taste). The next year, Brian was fired from the band and eventually died, while Keith found his inner bluesman and Mick started singing about rape, murder, riots in France, and heroin. The Stones reel off their finest albums, and all is right with the world…until Goat’s Head Soup. Then things get bad again. Like “Emotional Rescue” bad. Or “Harlem Shuffle” bad. Or…

In the beginning...

2006-01-07T18:03:00.000-05:00

Welcome to the Compact Disc Preservation Society. The plan is to eventually review every album in my CD collection (numbering around 700). I use the term "review" loosely, because I may use a CD as jumping off point for ruminations on music, popular culture, or Foucault's Panopticon. I expect to post a few times a week, unless the public shames me into posting more frequently, or demands that I give up this exercise in narcissism and musical wankery.