While I the last few years have been less than thrilling for new music, leaving the year-end lists a little underwhelming, 2009 has been an absolutely amazing year. My 2008 list (located here) featured a few stretches just to get to 10 (The Lodger, Deerhunter, and the Gutter Twins, while all good albums, really don't deserve to be on a best-of-the-year list), and does not feature a single album on my short list for the best of the decade. In contrast, I could easily do a top 20 for this year without straining, and I am sure one or two will make it on my decade list. Also, this is only for new stuff, otherwise Death's For the World to See would be number 1, without question. With that said, here we go:
11) (tie) Fleeting Joys - Occult Radiance / The Sleepover Disaster - Hover - As much as I love these albums, I simply can't completely get behind them. Both do an AMAZING job of pushing every shoegaze-loving button in my body (Fleeting Joys clearly channeling My Bloody Valentine and Sleepover Disaster going more to the Slowdive/Pale Saints side), but it's almost too easy. Neither of these albums take the slightest chances, and never go outside of the pre-defined shoegaze box. Neither band has any individual character at all, just a set of reference points to past glories in the genre. With that said, both albums feature tons of great songs. For the amount that I've listened to them and enjoyed them, I have to feature them on the list. I just hope both bands push themselves a little more on their next albums, and actually try to make music that isn't just a set of citations to their album collections.
10) The Soundtrack of Our Lives - Communion - On paper, I should kind of hate this. Double-disc prog rock epics are not usually in my sweet spot, but when you add absolutely ace song-craft, melodies and hooks galore, and a tight band that doesn't float away in the ether of the orchestrations, there is some different calculus going on. Over the course of 90 minutes and 24 songs, the band never loses its focus on the songs themselves. While there are some tracks that fall below the numerous highlights, the album never once sinks into embarrassing pretension. Now if only I could actually look at the cover art...
9) The Joy Formidable - A Balloon Called Moaning - At 29 minutes and seven songs, almost more of an EP, but they call it an album, so it fits here. The best pure sugar rush I heard this year, coming off like the bratty little sister to Velocity Girl - just tons of fun.
8) Handsome Furs - Face Control - I liked the first Wolf Parade album quite a bit, have not heard the second, and have been pretty unimpressed with what I have heard of Sunset Rubdown. With that out of the way, this second album from the side-project of Wolf Parade's Dan Boeckner and his wife surprised me quite a bit. Pulsing dance-punk with hooks and attitude to spare. Including a great tribute/homage/cover to my favorite New Order song is not going to hurt my rating, obviously. Great cover art as well.
7) Mos Def - The Ecstatic - Not the best year for hip-hop, with some major disappointments along the way, but this one surprised the heck out of me. With as phoned-in as his last few efforts had been, it seemed that Mos had shifted his interests to his acting and other endeavors, putting the music on the backburner. The first track, "Supermagic" on his new effort, with its gnarled guitar samples and raging energy quickly put the lie to this belief. Tight, creative, ecletic, and focused in a way that hip-hop albums rarely are, this is a welcome comeback from an artist I had completely written off.
6) The Flaming Lips - Embryonic - Like Mos Def, I had written off The Flaming Lips as having mellowed out to the point that they were virtually Adult Contemporary - good, kind of weird Adult Contemporary, but Adult Contemporary nonetheless. Then this monster falls out of the sky. I still have yet to fully wrap my head around this album, or the bizarre videos that have accompanied it, but I know I like it. Dark, challenging, paranoid, unique - The Flaming Lips at their absolute weirdest.
5) A Place to Bury Strangers - Exploding Head - This is basically part two of their first album. Not a ton of growth, but no matter. This is a top-notch set of noisy, feedback-laden, aggressive, ear-splittingly loud, energetic tunes. I will be a bit disappointed if their third album doesn't exhibit some stylistic evolution, but for now, this is absolutely perfect.
4) Franz Ferdinand - Tonight - For as much as I love Franz Ferdinand's first two albums, I loved the sharp songwriting and rock attitude more than the dance beats, so the fact that they put out a pretty dance-heavy record initially disappointed me. However, as time passed, this grew on me quite a bit. It's not to the level of their first two albums, but it's still head and shoulders above their competition. Alex Kapranos still is one of the most underrated songwriters in the market, and his band is just top notch.
3) Asobi Seksu - Hush - I loved their second album, Citrus, which was a gigantic sugar rush of an album, so the more sedate, plaintive nature of this set confused me initially. Here they go back to some of the roots of their shoegaze origins, to the dream-pop of the early 80's and come back with an album that could have been released by The Cocteau Twins - and it would have been one of their best efforts as well.
2) Dinosaur Jr. - Farm - The confirmation that Dinosaur Jr. is genuinely back as an on-going concern. The first "come back" album featuring the original trio, Beyond, suffered from an over-abundance of enthusiasm, sometimes becoming tiring in its eagerness to please (and sometimes ruining potentially great songs with over-long meandering solos). Farm is a calmer, more even-handed record. This is the sound of a band that knows it's great and has nothing to prove to anybody. They just produce the best pure rock album of the year as if it was easiest thing in the world.
1) The Big Pink - A Brief History of Love - One of the most impressive debut albums of the decade. While their initial single, "Velvet" is still the best song they have produced, the fact that every song on the album competes with its brilliance is very impressive. Equally impressive is that, while it mines a lot of the same shoegaze and Jesus & Mary Chain reference points that many other bands are appropriating, this band manages to put a number of unique spins on the formula that shows that not only are they not a one-trick pony parroting the past, but they have a good handle on their own sound that indicates they are capable of even more. I have described the album to my friends as Automatic-era JAMC trying to be the biggest pop band in the world, and the description seems to hold up. Noise rock merged with big drums and incredible pop hooks, with the vocals right out in front. Easily the album I have loved the most this year, and one that I will be listening to for years to come.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
"We are the army you see through the red haze of blood" - Horror in Music
This comes a full one day after Halloween, as I completely forgot to post this yesterday. Think of this as giving you a full 364 day head start on your October listening for Halloween 2010 (which sounds like a terrible Stanley Kubrick/John Carpenter mash-up - The Monolith is Michael Myers!). ANYWAY, I am a notorious wuss when it comes to horror-themed entertainment, be it movies, books, or even music. Blood and gore doesn't bother me, and, while I hate BOO! type scares, those aren't really what I am talking about either. Instead, I am fairly easily scared by genuinely creepy things. The Shining, Romero's first three Dead films, the first Nightmare on Elm Street, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (if you haven't seen it, I recommend it, but be prepared), etc., those things scare me more than they should.
For the most part, music that is explicitly horror-themed just can't measure up. While horror-based rock music has been around for a long time (see, e.g., Screamin' Jay Hawkins). While I have an odd love for Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath, even though they use plenty of horror elements in their lyrics, I have never found myself even slightly disturbed by a bit of it. It's kind of like the old Universal horror films, I know they are great, I know they're supposed to be scary, but, while I enjoy them, they don't bother me.
Likewise, the Misfits, the Cramps, and the Damned use LOTS of horror imagery, but their appeal is in more of the campy, B-movie horror variety. Tons of fun, but not scary in slightest - it's hard to take Danzig seriously while he's singing "I want your skull!" in his over-the-top "scary" voice, and even less so to hear Lux Interior (R.I.P.) singing "I've got 96 tears... and 96 eyes". This is not to knock any of these bands, as I love 'em to death, but they really are the Evil Dead 2 or Dead Alive of the scary music genre.
There are also the more "gothic" (and I use the quotes for a reason) bands, which call to mind more of the Interview With the Vampire, The Hunger, The Lost Boys, Near Dark (kind of), and even (ugh) Twilight. Basically, music that presents a more "romantic" view of horror themes. Some of these groups are great (I'll vouch for early Bauhaus any day, and The Cure (sorry Mike, you are right, though - Pornography is scary stuff) and Joy Division arguably somewhat fall into this category), but there is a TON of terrible stuff under this banner, which has recently sky-rocket due to the over-lap between the sub-emo "scene" that has embraced teen girls' obsession over Twilight.
The music that genuinely gives me chills comes from stuff that is a little more off the beaten path. Some of it is not necessarily meant to be "scary" music, such as some Robert Johnson, Leadbelly ("In the Pines" is a terrifying song), or even most Joy Division. It's scary music about the fact that everyday life is often really terrifying much of the time.
However, this is not to say that explicitly horror-themed music cannot achieve its goals - Liars They Were Wrong, So We Drowned, a concept album about witches, is one of the creepiest things I have ever heard. While the lyrics (including the title of this post) can be sort of absurd, the constant feeling of unease, odd sounds, creepy instrumentation (the drums most notably) all add up to an album that is really disturbing to listen to while walking or driving on a dark autumn night. Sonically, the closest parallel I can make is that it sounds like "Mole"-era Residents covering The Shining soundtrack (as if the Residents aren't creepy enough). Basically, it sounds like a David Lynch silent film about witches in audio play format. Likewise, while The Residents and Liars effectively evoke the the sense of creeping unease and absurdity that permeates Lynch's better work, His Name is Alive, perhaps the most under-rated genuinely scary band, pulls more from David Cronenberg's "body horror" sub-genre. HNIA's second album, "Home is in Your Head" is just really, really unnerving (I wish I had a better word, but the only thing I can think of when I think of that album is "GAH!", and that's not exactly poetic). Seriously, though what other word is there for this? It's a loose concept album (I think), which seems to be either about an abused woman killing her husband or him killing her and her coming back to haunt him. Either way, it's incredibly effective, and pulls its horror from a deep sense of uncertainty, jarring shifts in tone and sonics, and Karin Oliver's uncanny vocal resemblance to a ghost. While the follow-up Mouth By Mouth doesn't achieve the same sustained effect (mostly because it is decidedly more song-based and straightforward), it has sections that are among the most unsettling in recorded music. "The Dirt Eaters", "Lip", "Cornfield", and "Ear", for example, perfectly evoke that sense of disgust and horror of the human body and biological process that Cronenberg expressed in "Videodrome" and "The Fly". Both albums are highly recommended (they are genuinely great works), but just be advised of the mood you need to be in to listen to them.
Anyway, while I love the Halloween season and the music that goes along with it. I will be somewhat glad to turn my iPod away from music that doesn't cause me to eye with unease the dark trees I run past with my dog in the evenings. It's almost time for Christmas music to make it's way onto my listening schedule, and you can't be too scared while this masterpiece is playing.
For the most part, music that is explicitly horror-themed just can't measure up. While horror-based rock music has been around for a long time (see, e.g., Screamin' Jay Hawkins). While I have an odd love for Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath, even though they use plenty of horror elements in their lyrics, I have never found myself even slightly disturbed by a bit of it. It's kind of like the old Universal horror films, I know they are great, I know they're supposed to be scary, but, while I enjoy them, they don't bother me.
Likewise, the Misfits, the Cramps, and the Damned use LOTS of horror imagery, but their appeal is in more of the campy, B-movie horror variety. Tons of fun, but not scary in slightest - it's hard to take Danzig seriously while he's singing "I want your skull!" in his over-the-top "scary" voice, and even less so to hear Lux Interior (R.I.P.) singing "I've got 96 tears... and 96 eyes". This is not to knock any of these bands, as I love 'em to death, but they really are the Evil Dead 2 or Dead Alive of the scary music genre.
There are also the more "gothic" (and I use the quotes for a reason) bands, which call to mind more of the Interview With the Vampire, The Hunger, The Lost Boys, Near Dark (kind of), and even (ugh) Twilight. Basically, music that presents a more "romantic" view of horror themes. Some of these groups are great (I'll vouch for early Bauhaus any day, and The Cure (sorry Mike, you are right, though - Pornography is scary stuff) and Joy Division arguably somewhat fall into this category), but there is a TON of terrible stuff under this banner, which has recently sky-rocket due to the over-lap between the sub-emo "scene" that has embraced teen girls' obsession over Twilight.
The music that genuinely gives me chills comes from stuff that is a little more off the beaten path. Some of it is not necessarily meant to be "scary" music, such as some Robert Johnson, Leadbelly ("In the Pines" is a terrifying song), or even most Joy Division. It's scary music about the fact that everyday life is often really terrifying much of the time.
However, this is not to say that explicitly horror-themed music cannot achieve its goals - Liars They Were Wrong, So We Drowned, a concept album about witches, is one of the creepiest things I have ever heard. While the lyrics (including the title of this post) can be sort of absurd, the constant feeling of unease, odd sounds, creepy instrumentation (the drums most notably) all add up to an album that is really disturbing to listen to while walking or driving on a dark autumn night. Sonically, the closest parallel I can make is that it sounds like "Mole"-era Residents covering The Shining soundtrack (as if the Residents aren't creepy enough). Basically, it sounds like a David Lynch silent film about witches in audio play format. Likewise, while The Residents and Liars effectively evoke the the sense of creeping unease and absurdity that permeates Lynch's better work, His Name is Alive, perhaps the most under-rated genuinely scary band, pulls more from David Cronenberg's "body horror" sub-genre. HNIA's second album, "Home is in Your Head" is just really, really unnerving (I wish I had a better word, but the only thing I can think of when I think of that album is "GAH!", and that's not exactly poetic). Seriously, though what other word is there for this? It's a loose concept album (I think), which seems to be either about an abused woman killing her husband or him killing her and her coming back to haunt him. Either way, it's incredibly effective, and pulls its horror from a deep sense of uncertainty, jarring shifts in tone and sonics, and Karin Oliver's uncanny vocal resemblance to a ghost. While the follow-up Mouth By Mouth doesn't achieve the same sustained effect (mostly because it is decidedly more song-based and straightforward), it has sections that are among the most unsettling in recorded music. "The Dirt Eaters", "Lip", "Cornfield", and "Ear", for example, perfectly evoke that sense of disgust and horror of the human body and biological process that Cronenberg expressed in "Videodrome" and "The Fly". Both albums are highly recommended (they are genuinely great works), but just be advised of the mood you need to be in to listen to them.
Anyway, while I love the Halloween season and the music that goes along with it. I will be somewhat glad to turn my iPod away from music that doesn't cause me to eye with unease the dark trees I run past with my dog in the evenings. It's almost time for Christmas music to make it's way onto my listening schedule, and you can't be too scared while this masterpiece is playing.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Dancing About Dancing About Architecture
I will admit that, despite my literary aspirations and my need to keep updated on my legal knowledge, I am far more likely to pick up a book about music than about anything else. My favorite book is Lipstick Traces by Greil Marcus (a pretty literary music book, to be sure, but still). Anyway, I just finished a couple of the many books on my growing "to be read" shelf, so here's what I thought of them.
Joe Carducci, Rock and the Pop Narcotic - This book is infuriating on at least two fronts, some intentional and some unintentional.
The intentional one is Carducci's constant, and almost pathological, interest in tearing down sacred cows and accepted theories regarding rock music. More to the point, he enjoys tearing down these idols with a pointedly foul mouth. While much of this is funny, and he usually makes a valid point, it gets a bit old over the course of book.
Further, Carducci's staunch political conservatism starts to grate as he constantly rages against "hippies", "liberals", and "feminists". While I am more than happy to read disparate viewpoint, Carducci's screeds have an unsufferable grating, pedantic tone. This carries over into his dismissal of much of the music industry and music criticism in particular. Carducci is obsessed with his long treatises on how out-of-touch music writers are to the music they cover, a fair point, but one Carducci beats into irrelevance by his constant repetition.
Carducci's intentionally limited view of what rock music is can also be irritating. Rock is defined as heavy music using drums, bass, and electric guitar, period. He summarily dismisses synth-based and other music that falls outside of this box as not "rock music", and seems insulted that it could ever be confused as such. There is a major flaw with this categorization which I never was able to overcome. I will agree that the umbrella of what the public deems rock music to be is absurdly large, as it basically covers all popular music that is not hip-hop, R&B, or vocal pop (and even then there is some cross-pollination). Truthfully, I can endorse Carducci's thesis here, that the definition of rock should be limited, and I can even accept his definition. However, in throwing out a number of styles, Carducci makes so attempt whatsoever to classify them as anything other than "not rock"- leaving the whole endeavor pretty pointless. Ultimately, its a straw man argument that Carducci puts up to say that his favorite bands are somehow more authentic and of greater value than bands he dislikes. Ultimately, Carducci's entire theme throughout the book is that the music industry and critical press is outdated, out of touch, and terminally flawed as it was unreceptive to Carducci's idea of the perfect rock band, Black Flag.
As down as I am about much of this book, what makes this discussion difficult is that I can't legitimately pan it and say it is of no interest. Carducci is brilliant, and parts of this book are exceptional. He has some insights into the music industry that are truly unique and fascinating, particularly the titular discussion of the "pop narcotic" which dooms bands to irrelevancy. A good and tough editor could have made this one of the great music books. Instead, it remains an irritating, over-long, infuriating, sloppy, one-sided, hopeless gem of a book.
Greg Prato, Grunge is Dead: The Oral History of Seattle Rock Music - In the tradition of Please Kill Me and We've Got the Neutron Bomb, this book attempts to draw together the recollections of those involved in the boom times of Seattle music at the beginning of the 90's to present a definitive history of the era. For the most part, Prato is successful at achieving his goals.
The first 1/3rd of the book, where Prato solicits memories of acts pre-dating the grunge era, does suffer from some major problems, the most egregious being that its pretty boring overall. Most of the anecdotes are some variation of "this band was really cool" or "punks weren't well regarded by the rest of society" or "everyone was really friendly and communal, before it got all commercial". Part of the blame for this is on the subjects, as they just don't present very interesting stories, but part of the blame has to fall on Prato, who needed to either ask better questions of his subjects or realize that, as he didn't have very interesting material, he needed to cut back on his coverage of that era.
Once the book gets into the Green River/Mother Love Bone era, though, things start to pick up. Prato assembles a very strong and diverse range of subjects, with only a few notable omissions (no Cornell, Lanegan, Novoselic, Grohl, or Love), but almost everyone else, including all of Pearl Jam, Mudhoney, the surviving members of Alice in Chains, the rest of Soundgarden, Tad Doyle, the Van Conner brothers, etc. For the most part, everyone is willing to discuss things from a "warts and all" perspective, and it is interesting to see events that are fairly well known in music circles from alternate perspectives (for example, seeing both sides of the infamous Green River show where the guest list was made up almost exclusively of music industry people who didn't bother to show up or realizing that Jerry Cantrell really does seem to be that much of a callous jerk). Prato has some issues with editing, in that he tries to have the book arranged by subject but also chronologically, leading to some confusion about exactly when certain things occurred in relation to others, but for the most part he keeps things moving. Highly recommended.
Joe Carducci, Rock and the Pop Narcotic - This book is infuriating on at least two fronts, some intentional and some unintentional.
The intentional one is Carducci's constant, and almost pathological, interest in tearing down sacred cows and accepted theories regarding rock music. More to the point, he enjoys tearing down these idols with a pointedly foul mouth. While much of this is funny, and he usually makes a valid point, it gets a bit old over the course of book.
Further, Carducci's staunch political conservatism starts to grate as he constantly rages against "hippies", "liberals", and "feminists". While I am more than happy to read disparate viewpoint, Carducci's screeds have an unsufferable grating, pedantic tone. This carries over into his dismissal of much of the music industry and music criticism in particular. Carducci is obsessed with his long treatises on how out-of-touch music writers are to the music they cover, a fair point, but one Carducci beats into irrelevance by his constant repetition.
Carducci's intentionally limited view of what rock music is can also be irritating. Rock is defined as heavy music using drums, bass, and electric guitar, period. He summarily dismisses synth-based and other music that falls outside of this box as not "rock music", and seems insulted that it could ever be confused as such. There is a major flaw with this categorization which I never was able to overcome. I will agree that the umbrella of what the public deems rock music to be is absurdly large, as it basically covers all popular music that is not hip-hop, R&B, or vocal pop (and even then there is some cross-pollination). Truthfully, I can endorse Carducci's thesis here, that the definition of rock should be limited, and I can even accept his definition. However, in throwing out a number of styles, Carducci makes so attempt whatsoever to classify them as anything other than "not rock"- leaving the whole endeavor pretty pointless. Ultimately, its a straw man argument that Carducci puts up to say that his favorite bands are somehow more authentic and of greater value than bands he dislikes. Ultimately, Carducci's entire theme throughout the book is that the music industry and critical press is outdated, out of touch, and terminally flawed as it was unreceptive to Carducci's idea of the perfect rock band, Black Flag.
As down as I am about much of this book, what makes this discussion difficult is that I can't legitimately pan it and say it is of no interest. Carducci is brilliant, and parts of this book are exceptional. He has some insights into the music industry that are truly unique and fascinating, particularly the titular discussion of the "pop narcotic" which dooms bands to irrelevancy. A good and tough editor could have made this one of the great music books. Instead, it remains an irritating, over-long, infuriating, sloppy, one-sided, hopeless gem of a book.
Greg Prato, Grunge is Dead: The Oral History of Seattle Rock Music - In the tradition of Please Kill Me and We've Got the Neutron Bomb, this book attempts to draw together the recollections of those involved in the boom times of Seattle music at the beginning of the 90's to present a definitive history of the era. For the most part, Prato is successful at achieving his goals.
The first 1/3rd of the book, where Prato solicits memories of acts pre-dating the grunge era, does suffer from some major problems, the most egregious being that its pretty boring overall. Most of the anecdotes are some variation of "this band was really cool" or "punks weren't well regarded by the rest of society" or "everyone was really friendly and communal, before it got all commercial". Part of the blame for this is on the subjects, as they just don't present very interesting stories, but part of the blame has to fall on Prato, who needed to either ask better questions of his subjects or realize that, as he didn't have very interesting material, he needed to cut back on his coverage of that era.
Once the book gets into the Green River/Mother Love Bone era, though, things start to pick up. Prato assembles a very strong and diverse range of subjects, with only a few notable omissions (no Cornell, Lanegan, Novoselic, Grohl, or Love), but almost everyone else, including all of Pearl Jam, Mudhoney, the surviving members of Alice in Chains, the rest of Soundgarden, Tad Doyle, the Van Conner brothers, etc. For the most part, everyone is willing to discuss things from a "warts and all" perspective, and it is interesting to see events that are fairly well known in music circles from alternate perspectives (for example, seeing both sides of the infamous Green River show where the guest list was made up almost exclusively of music industry people who didn't bother to show up or realizing that Jerry Cantrell really does seem to be that much of a callous jerk). Prato has some issues with editing, in that he tries to have the book arranged by subject but also chronologically, leading to some confusion about exactly when certain things occurred in relation to others, but for the most part he keeps things moving. Highly recommended.
Friday, August 14, 2009
So have we ever reached a consensus on what this decade is even called?
First of all, thank you to everyone who came out to the Cleveland Music Industry Panel. It was an amazing event. I met some great and fascinating people and learned a TON. I cannot wait for the next event from the Modern Revival Media people.
Ok, as we reach the last gasp of this decade, I've started thinking about lists - the perennial "best albums of the decade". What I find interesting and startling is that there seems to be a paucity of records that I just KNOW are going to be on all the critics' list at the end of this year. Every previous decade has had those albums that just stood out above the pack (i.e., for the 90's, Nevermind, Slanted & Enchanted, OK Computer, Odelay, Loveless, Screamadelia). There just doesn't seem to be one of those watershed albums that sort of defines this decade. Don't get me wrong, there was a lot of great music, but much of it either did not make enough of a long term impact to really reach that level of importance (let's face it, while Nevermind was a great album, its impact on the music industry, fashion, culture, etc. was what really made it one of the best albums of the 90's) or was so backwards looking in its inception that it couldn't really represent this decade (i.e., the countless bands doing the 80's revival thing).
Anyway, in lieu of trying to make an actual "best" of the decade, here is my unranked short list of my favorite albums of the last 10 years. Expect this to be updated constantly, and look for my final ranked list at the end of the year.
Ryan Adams - Heartbreaker
Might not be on my final list, but this album continues to amaze me. It's a true pinnacle of the alt-country genre, right as many of Adam's peers were either shifting away from the genre or becoming self-parody. Adams quickly proceeded to do both of those things, and has not been a consistent presence since, but that first album (and half of the second) and his Whiskeytown records remain true gems.
Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
I have a feeling their first album will be what is on most of the top lists, but it is a bit too twee to me (though parts of it are amazing, "Wake Up" most of all). This album was regarded as a bit of a step back for most fans, but I love it. It's a "big, important" rock album like those made by U2 or Springsteen, but absent the pretension that makes those records so insufferable at times.
Ash - Free All Angels
Without a doubt, the best pop(-punk) record of the decade, and probably the record I've actually listened to the most for the decade. The addition of Charlotte Hatherly (who would leave after the next album, sadly) on guitar and vocals adds a nice extra element to a band that was already extremely strong. I love this record, from the spry "Burn Baby Burn" to the swinging "Candy" to the swooning "Shining Light" to the wistful "Sometimes". Top-notch.
Asobi Seksu - Citrus
Pretty firmly established as one of the most consistent bands to come out of the decade, with three sublime albums. This one is their best, melding indelible melodies on top of some of the prettiest noise possible, but somehow always maintaining an aggression and propulsion that prevents second of this album from being boring.
The Decemberists - Castaways and Cutouts
I love The Decemberists, and their live show is a ton of fun. On record, though, their quirks and schtick can sometimes get the better of them. That's why this record works so well for me. It has a germ of the tropes they would later blow up into the basis of their work, but it's mostly just a great, quirky alt-country record with accordions.
The Dirtbombs - Magical Dangerous Noise
Oh man, I love this record. My favorite record of my favorite currently active band. Noisy, catchy, danceable, rocking, soulful, perfect.
Doves - The Last Broadcast
In the wake of Kid A, a number of British bands stepped up to the plate to take the "big emotional British guitar-rock band" throne that Radiohead abdicated to play with their electronics and soundscapes. Coldplay was the clear commercial winner of the ensuing fight, but Doves were the artistic winner, and this is their zenith.
Exploding Hearts - Guitar Romantic
Probably the greatest musical tragedy of the decade. Brilliant and exceptionally promising young band releases their first album, goes out to tour behind it, and encounter a tragic accident which claims the lives of many of the members. These guys could have been, should have been, huge. Instead, we just have this perfect scrappy garage-rock masterpiece to remember them by.
The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink
Robots
Say what you will about The Flaming Lips output this decade- it's AOR, mom-rock, whatever, and I will probably agree with at least part of what you say. I'm sad they lost the guitars as well. However, this record is GORGEOUS. When you have songs like "Fight Test" and "Do You Realize", who cares if people's parents like it? Everyone would fall in love with this record - it transcends every gap, like only that rarefied strata of pop music can.
Franz Ferdinand - Franz Ferdinand
Of all of the bands riding the odd mid-90's neo-disco-punk wave, Franz Ferdinand was always the one that seemed to have an actual chance of sticking around after the fad ended, as their lyrics, tunecraft, and musical diversity were way ahead of the pack. This has clearly turned out to be the case, as the other promising bands (i.e., Bloc Party, The Futureheads, Maximo Park) have failed to live up to their initial promise. I'm sure it helped that they were actually some of the older players in the game, and had some serious chops to back them up. All three of their albums have been top-notch, but its their first album which still impresses me the most. "Take Me Out" and "Dark of the Matinee" are just perfect songs.
Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere
The best soul album of the decade. If Al Green had kept playing the sonic innovator and not become a traditionalist (not that I'm bemoaning the great albums he made this decade), he would sound like this. Their second album, The Odd Couple may be even better, but this one has "Crazy" on it, so it's the one on this list.
Guided by Voices - Isolation Drills
With this album, GBV embraced the chance to make a big rock record, and they drilled it. "Chasing Heather Crazy", "Glad Girls", "Skills Like This", and the rest are big and bold rock anthems with a ton of heart. While I love lo-fi GBV, it always seemed like Pollard that embraced that style out of necessity or novelty rather than because it emphasized his songwriting or the talents of his band. As anyone who has been to a good GBV show knows, these guys rock, and it was great to see them make their rock statement.
Idlewild - 100 Broken Windows
Loud, anthemic quasi-punk rock with a singer who sounds like the guy from Trashcan Sinatras mixed with mid-period Michael Stipe. About as solid, durable, and lovable an album as came out this decade. Prior to this, they were a scrappy pop-punk act, following this, they moved toward bigger and bigger sounds (producing the indelible "You Held the World in Your Arms Tonight", by the way, which is easily among the top songs this decade), but also began to sink into some mid-tempo boredom. This album is their zenith so far, perfectly mixing fist-pumping ravers with beautiful ballads, and an easy recommendation to just about anyone.
Jay-Z & Danger Mouse - The Grey Album
I loved The Black Album, I love the Beatles, and after this record I knew I loved Danger Mouse. Is it a novelty record? Sure, but it's an ingenious one, and one that actually improves on The Black Album. The original version of "99 Problems"? Awesome. The Grey Album version cutting "99 Problems" with "Helter Skelter"? Crazy-Awesome.
Madvillian - Madvillainy
My favorite hip-hop album of the decade. Fabulously blunted beats with incredibly witty and impressive rhymes. As much as I love Madlib and DOOM separately, this album is just a huge step above anything else they have produced. It's a hard record to dissect briefly, because it is so dense, so, until I get the chance to devote a larger discussion to it, let's just leave my description as "brilliant".
Malory - Not Here Not Now
Is this a massive Slowdive rip? Absolutely. Is this incredibly entertaining and beautiful neo-shoegaze? Absolutely. Does this belong on a list of the best albums of the decade? Absolutely.
Modest Mouse - The Moon & Antarctica
I would never use the word "sellout" to describe Modest Mouse. While their last two albums have certainly been more polished than their earlier work, it is still highly idiosyncratic and uniquely their own sound. This album was the start of that process, and their most effective and consistent start-to-finish album.
The National - Alligator
This record really snuck up on me. I was a little less than impressed the first time I heard it, but after about the third listen, I was enthralled. Smoky, smoldering rock which builds to beautiful and cathartic climaxes. A perfect record for late-night drives.
Okkervil River - The Stage Names
Black Sheep Boy may actually be the record that makes my top 10, but for now I'll leave this one. Perhaps the best lyrics of any record this decade - with impressively developed characters, clever jokes, tangible emotion, and just enough subtext and tricks to keep you on your toes. "Plus Ones" and "John Allyn Smith Sails" are brilliant inside baseball treats for record geeks like me, as well.
Old 97's - Satellite Rides
Sorry alt-country die-hards (God bless you for keeping the faith), but the twang is gone (it did come back, kind of). In its place, Old 97's created an indelibly strong set of Kinks-ish pop-rock. "King of All the World" is a perfect song, and "Rollerskate Skinny", "Buick City Complex", "Question", etc. are not far behind.
A Place to Bury Strangers - A Place to Bury
Strangers
Beautiful, beautiful noise. While The Jesus & Mary Chain made perfect pop songs and bathed them in feedback and gnarled white noise, APBS's songs are simply built out of the stuff. This thing is punishingly loud even at low volume. I love it.
Primal Scream - XTRMNTR
I remember buying this album the day it came out in 2000 and just being thrilled at the idea that this was the way music was heading in the new decade. There is perhaps nothing more upsetting to me than the fact that this simply didn't happen. Primal Scream completely transformed themselves with this record, and created a series of exciting, complex mash-up of styles and attitudes that was genuinely inspiring, and it was pretty much ignored. The agit-punk-techno of "Swastika Eyes" and "Exterminator", the jazz-electronica of "Blood Money", and the shoegaze-industrial of "MBV Arkestra" (featuring Kevin Shields in one of his rare appearances of the early half of the decade) all could have supported an entire career for other bands. Not to mention that the lyrics and the tone of the album eerily pre-sage the Bush era of politics. This should have been the defining record of the decade, but instead, it's just a great, inspiring rush of an album.
The Red Telephone - Cellar Songs
If this list inspires you to buy one album, make it this one. The most over-looked record of the decade, without a doubt. Coming out on the ridiculously obscure Raise Giant Frogs label, this album melds Bends-era Radiohead's guitar workouts and atmospherics to a solid nineties power-pop melodic foundation (the press kit at the time compared them to Wilco, but I don't really see it). This is a GREAT album, front-to-back, and infinitely more people need to hear it.
Sloan - Never Hear the End of It
At the time this came out, Sloan was in a bit of a rut, putting out solid, if unexceptional records on a regular basis. They had their die-hards who would buy everything they released (guilty party right here), but they didn't seem like a band that would be taking any chances anytime soon. This is why this album, an 80+ monster that crammed a CD to its brim with a seamless suite of stellar songs (I seriously did not intend for that to turn into a tongue-twister). For my money, this is the best album Sloan has ever released, and it's certainly the most ambitious.
Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
It's cliche to say, but no album captured that post-9/11 dread and apprehension quite like this album. Without intending to (as the record was recorded before that date), Wilco captured the mood I was feeling at the time. It's a perfect comfort record that came out at a time when a lot of people really needed a comfort record.
The Wrens - The Meadowlands
Right now, this is my album of the decade. Stunning melodies, incredibly poignant and moving lyrics, great production, everything about this record clicks. On a personal note, this album really has managed to sort of clock my growth this decade, with the mournful tone soundtracking my mopey early twenties and the mature lyrics about love and loss speaking to me as a slightly more mature person. I've probably listened to it more than any other album this decade, and I imagine it will be the album I come back to the most in the future. As perfect as rock gets.
Ok, as we reach the last gasp of this decade, I've started thinking about lists - the perennial "best albums of the decade". What I find interesting and startling is that there seems to be a paucity of records that I just KNOW are going to be on all the critics' list at the end of this year. Every previous decade has had those albums that just stood out above the pack (i.e., for the 90's, Nevermind, Slanted & Enchanted, OK Computer, Odelay, Loveless, Screamadelia). There just doesn't seem to be one of those watershed albums that sort of defines this decade. Don't get me wrong, there was a lot of great music, but much of it either did not make enough of a long term impact to really reach that level of importance (let's face it, while Nevermind was a great album, its impact on the music industry, fashion, culture, etc. was what really made it one of the best albums of the 90's) or was so backwards looking in its inception that it couldn't really represent this decade (i.e., the countless bands doing the 80's revival thing).
Anyway, in lieu of trying to make an actual "best" of the decade, here is my unranked short list of my favorite albums of the last 10 years. Expect this to be updated constantly, and look for my final ranked list at the end of the year.
Ryan Adams - Heartbreaker
Might not be on my final list, but this album continues to amaze me. It's a true pinnacle of the alt-country genre, right as many of Adam's peers were either shifting away from the genre or becoming self-parody. Adams quickly proceeded to do both of those things, and has not been a consistent presence since, but that first album (and half of the second) and his Whiskeytown records remain true gems.
Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
I have a feeling their first album will be what is on most of the top lists, but it is a bit too twee to me (though parts of it are amazing, "Wake Up" most of all). This album was regarded as a bit of a step back for most fans, but I love it. It's a "big, important" rock album like those made by U2 or Springsteen, but absent the pretension that makes those records so insufferable at times.
Ash - Free All Angels
Without a doubt, the best pop(-punk) record of the decade, and probably the record I've actually listened to the most for the decade. The addition of Charlotte Hatherly (who would leave after the next album, sadly) on guitar and vocals adds a nice extra element to a band that was already extremely strong. I love this record, from the spry "Burn Baby Burn" to the swinging "Candy" to the swooning "Shining Light" to the wistful "Sometimes". Top-notch.
Asobi Seksu - Citrus
Pretty firmly established as one of the most consistent bands to come out of the decade, with three sublime albums. This one is their best, melding indelible melodies on top of some of the prettiest noise possible, but somehow always maintaining an aggression and propulsion that prevents second of this album from being boring.
The Decemberists - Castaways and Cutouts
I love The Decemberists, and their live show is a ton of fun. On record, though, their quirks and schtick can sometimes get the better of them. That's why this record works so well for me. It has a germ of the tropes they would later blow up into the basis of their work, but it's mostly just a great, quirky alt-country record with accordions.
The Dirtbombs - Magical Dangerous Noise
Oh man, I love this record. My favorite record of my favorite currently active band. Noisy, catchy, danceable, rocking, soulful, perfect.
Doves - The Last Broadcast
In the wake of Kid A, a number of British bands stepped up to the plate to take the "big emotional British guitar-rock band" throne that Radiohead abdicated to play with their electronics and soundscapes. Coldplay was the clear commercial winner of the ensuing fight, but Doves were the artistic winner, and this is their zenith.
Exploding Hearts - Guitar Romantic
Probably the greatest musical tragedy of the decade. Brilliant and exceptionally promising young band releases their first album, goes out to tour behind it, and encounter a tragic accident which claims the lives of many of the members. These guys could have been, should have been, huge. Instead, we just have this perfect scrappy garage-rock masterpiece to remember them by.
The Flaming Lips - Yoshimi Battles the Pink
Robots
Say what you will about The Flaming Lips output this decade- it's AOR, mom-rock, whatever, and I will probably agree with at least part of what you say. I'm sad they lost the guitars as well. However, this record is GORGEOUS. When you have songs like "Fight Test" and "Do You Realize", who cares if people's parents like it? Everyone would fall in love with this record - it transcends every gap, like only that rarefied strata of pop music can.
Franz Ferdinand - Franz Ferdinand
Of all of the bands riding the odd mid-90's neo-disco-punk wave, Franz Ferdinand was always the one that seemed to have an actual chance of sticking around after the fad ended, as their lyrics, tunecraft, and musical diversity were way ahead of the pack. This has clearly turned out to be the case, as the other promising bands (i.e., Bloc Party, The Futureheads, Maximo Park) have failed to live up to their initial promise. I'm sure it helped that they were actually some of the older players in the game, and had some serious chops to back them up. All three of their albums have been top-notch, but its their first album which still impresses me the most. "Take Me Out" and "Dark of the Matinee" are just perfect songs.
Gnarls Barkley - St. Elsewhere
The best soul album of the decade. If Al Green had kept playing the sonic innovator and not become a traditionalist (not that I'm bemoaning the great albums he made this decade), he would sound like this. Their second album, The Odd Couple may be even better, but this one has "Crazy" on it, so it's the one on this list.
Guided by Voices - Isolation Drills
With this album, GBV embraced the chance to make a big rock record, and they drilled it. "Chasing Heather Crazy", "Glad Girls", "Skills Like This", and the rest are big and bold rock anthems with a ton of heart. While I love lo-fi GBV, it always seemed like Pollard that embraced that style out of necessity or novelty rather than because it emphasized his songwriting or the talents of his band. As anyone who has been to a good GBV show knows, these guys rock, and it was great to see them make their rock statement.
Idlewild - 100 Broken Windows
Loud, anthemic quasi-punk rock with a singer who sounds like the guy from Trashcan Sinatras mixed with mid-period Michael Stipe. About as solid, durable, and lovable an album as came out this decade. Prior to this, they were a scrappy pop-punk act, following this, they moved toward bigger and bigger sounds (producing the indelible "You Held the World in Your Arms Tonight", by the way, which is easily among the top songs this decade), but also began to sink into some mid-tempo boredom. This album is their zenith so far, perfectly mixing fist-pumping ravers with beautiful ballads, and an easy recommendation to just about anyone.
Jay-Z & Danger Mouse - The Grey Album
I loved The Black Album, I love the Beatles, and after this record I knew I loved Danger Mouse. Is it a novelty record? Sure, but it's an ingenious one, and one that actually improves on The Black Album. The original version of "99 Problems"? Awesome. The Grey Album version cutting "99 Problems" with "Helter Skelter"? Crazy-Awesome.
Madvillian - Madvillainy
My favorite hip-hop album of the decade. Fabulously blunted beats with incredibly witty and impressive rhymes. As much as I love Madlib and DOOM separately, this album is just a huge step above anything else they have produced. It's a hard record to dissect briefly, because it is so dense, so, until I get the chance to devote a larger discussion to it, let's just leave my description as "brilliant".
Malory - Not Here Not Now
Is this a massive Slowdive rip? Absolutely. Is this incredibly entertaining and beautiful neo-shoegaze? Absolutely. Does this belong on a list of the best albums of the decade? Absolutely.
Modest Mouse - The Moon & Antarctica
I would never use the word "sellout" to describe Modest Mouse. While their last two albums have certainly been more polished than their earlier work, it is still highly idiosyncratic and uniquely their own sound. This album was the start of that process, and their most effective and consistent start-to-finish album.
The National - Alligator
This record really snuck up on me. I was a little less than impressed the first time I heard it, but after about the third listen, I was enthralled. Smoky, smoldering rock which builds to beautiful and cathartic climaxes. A perfect record for late-night drives.
Okkervil River - The Stage Names
Black Sheep Boy may actually be the record that makes my top 10, but for now I'll leave this one. Perhaps the best lyrics of any record this decade - with impressively developed characters, clever jokes, tangible emotion, and just enough subtext and tricks to keep you on your toes. "Plus Ones" and "John Allyn Smith Sails" are brilliant inside baseball treats for record geeks like me, as well.
Old 97's - Satellite Rides
Sorry alt-country die-hards (God bless you for keeping the faith), but the twang is gone (it did come back, kind of). In its place, Old 97's created an indelibly strong set of Kinks-ish pop-rock. "King of All the World" is a perfect song, and "Rollerskate Skinny", "Buick City Complex", "Question", etc. are not far behind.
A Place to Bury Strangers - A Place to Bury
Strangers
Beautiful, beautiful noise. While The Jesus & Mary Chain made perfect pop songs and bathed them in feedback and gnarled white noise, APBS's songs are simply built out of the stuff. This thing is punishingly loud even at low volume. I love it.
Primal Scream - XTRMNTR
I remember buying this album the day it came out in 2000 and just being thrilled at the idea that this was the way music was heading in the new decade. There is perhaps nothing more upsetting to me than the fact that this simply didn't happen. Primal Scream completely transformed themselves with this record, and created a series of exciting, complex mash-up of styles and attitudes that was genuinely inspiring, and it was pretty much ignored. The agit-punk-techno of "Swastika Eyes" and "Exterminator", the jazz-electronica of "Blood Money", and the shoegaze-industrial of "MBV Arkestra" (featuring Kevin Shields in one of his rare appearances of the early half of the decade) all could have supported an entire career for other bands. Not to mention that the lyrics and the tone of the album eerily pre-sage the Bush era of politics. This should have been the defining record of the decade, but instead, it's just a great, inspiring rush of an album.
The Red Telephone - Cellar Songs
If this list inspires you to buy one album, make it this one. The most over-looked record of the decade, without a doubt. Coming out on the ridiculously obscure Raise Giant Frogs label, this album melds Bends-era Radiohead's guitar workouts and atmospherics to a solid nineties power-pop melodic foundation (the press kit at the time compared them to Wilco, but I don't really see it). This is a GREAT album, front-to-back, and infinitely more people need to hear it.
Sloan - Never Hear the End of It
At the time this came out, Sloan was in a bit of a rut, putting out solid, if unexceptional records on a regular basis. They had their die-hards who would buy everything they released (guilty party right here), but they didn't seem like a band that would be taking any chances anytime soon. This is why this album, an 80+ monster that crammed a CD to its brim with a seamless suite of stellar songs (I seriously did not intend for that to turn into a tongue-twister). For my money, this is the best album Sloan has ever released, and it's certainly the most ambitious.
Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
It's cliche to say, but no album captured that post-9/11 dread and apprehension quite like this album. Without intending to (as the record was recorded before that date), Wilco captured the mood I was feeling at the time. It's a perfect comfort record that came out at a time when a lot of people really needed a comfort record.
The Wrens - The Meadowlands
Right now, this is my album of the decade. Stunning melodies, incredibly poignant and moving lyrics, great production, everything about this record clicks. On a personal note, this album really has managed to sort of clock my growth this decade, with the mournful tone soundtracking my mopey early twenties and the mature lyrics about love and loss speaking to me as a slightly more mature person. I've probably listened to it more than any other album this decade, and I imagine it will be the album I come back to the most in the future. As perfect as rock gets.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Got Live if You Want It!
Though I am pretty sure everyone who reads this is already well aware of this already, I will be speaking on legal issues affecting independent artists and labels at the Cleveland Music Industry Panel this Saturday, August 8 (http://clevelandmusicpanel.eventbrite.com/).
Should be an interesting and entertaining day at the zoo.
Should be an interesting and entertaining day at the zoo.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
My Building Has Every Convenience...
One of the benefits of having an hour long bike commute to and from work is that I have time to listen to at least two albums a day. Two weeks ago, I started out Monday morning listening to Talking Heads’ first album, Talking Heads: 77, the remastered version of which I had just added to my iPod, along with the rest of the band’s studio albums. This turned into a week-long listen to the band’s entire back catalog, including not only the studio albums, but also their live sets Stop Making Sense and The Name of this Band is Talking Heads.
An important, and somewhat embarrassing note before we get into a discussion of my thoughts: I have never really listened to Talking Heads’ studio albums before two weeks ago. I had heard the original CD versions of some of the early album, and the incredibly trebly mix as compared to the remastered live albums turned me off of exploring any further.
The mix on the newer versions is a revelation to someone who only heard the original CDs. The increased clarity and, especially, the significantly strengthened low end is essential for this band. Tina Weymouth’s bass is the driving instrument for the Heads’ sound, and without her busy melodic lines, the band can become static and, frankly, quite boring. “Heaven” exemplifies the power Weymouth wields, transforming a pretty, but uneventful song into an absolute masterpiece by simply never falling into a real groove; her constant runs emphasizing the unease in David Byrne’s lyrics. Put simply, if you have not heard Talking Heads outside of the original CDs of the studio albums, you have not heard Talking Heads, which is a situation you might want to think about taking care of.
That being said, I would still direct any newly interested parties to the two live albums first, as this band really excels in that setting. While The Name of this Band... is the superior album, I would recommend starting with Stop Making Sense, simply because it has more of the “hits”, and works a bit better as a primer (it also makes one of the studio albums redundant, as I mention below).
As every fan of the band will note, though, no amount of remastering can alter the fact that the band’s output follows a too common trajectory, with ’77, More Songs about Buildings and Food, Fear of Music, and much of Remain in Light and Speaking in Tongues being absolutely vital, with the rest pretty forgettable. The reason for this downward trajectory is notable in that it exemplifies one of the more notable qualities of their early triumphs. Talking Heads: ’77 came out in its titular year, the height of Punk Rock, and the band cut its teeth in the same scene that helped to birth that movement. However, I have always found it difficult to mentally define Talking Heads as a punk band. It’s not the sound of the music, as I have a fairly broad view of what punk rock can be musically; it was something else, something intrinsic. During the course of listening to everything, I finally put my finger on it.
If one gets to the bottom of everything, every musical genre/movement has at its core a specific emotional basis. Rock & Roll, at its origin, was about youthful exuberance, rap is empowerment, metal is masculinity, country is longing, etc. (yes, I know there are TONS of exceptions to all of these, but I think the core is there, but I would love to hear alternatives). Punk rock, at its emotional core, is the music of anger, and anger’s cousin emotions of frustration and indignation. Post-punk, as a genre, on the other hand, has at its emotional core anxiety, fear, and nervousness. Where Punk is an attack against the status quo, whether that be the government or the fact one’s girlfriend dumped him, post-punk sees that status quo and accepts it as inevitability – you can’t fight the status quo, but you can certainly be scared of it. For example, The Buzzcocks’ “Ever Fallen in Love” deals with a similar factual situation as Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. The difference is how the narrators deal with the same set of facts. Pete Shelley seethes at the difficulty of situation, but offers the glimmer of hope in “we won’t be together much longer, unless we realize that we are the same,” holding forth a possible way to save things. Ian Curtis doesn’t permit this speck of hope, deeming the failure of the relationship not just imminent, but inexorable – “Love WILL tear us apart, again.” Similarly, one can compare The Clash’s “Career Opportunities” to Talking Heads’ “Don’t Worry about the Government” – while The Clash fight the impulse to settle into a menial job, David Byrne accepts it as a inevitability, he is going to have to settle into his modern building with every modern convenience to allow him to give up his life to work, except for the few times he is able to slip away because his “friends are important”. Byrne’s “Psycho Killer” is far from the swaggering, evil sociopath of horror films, but a troubled, jittery, compulsive mess, who just genuinely cannot control himself.
Ultimately, while Talking Heads pre-dates post-punk, they have an emotional core much closer to that later movement than they do that of what has become accepted as punk. There are a few other early punk-era bands that have similarly out-of-sync emotional cores that become much easier to categorize if they are considered as precursors to post-punk, such as Television and Pere Ubu. Talking Heads are the best example, though, as they basically epitomize the nervous end of post-punk’s anxious core. Everything is on edge and over-caffeniated, from the previously-mentioned bass lines to the skittery guitar lines to Byrne’s hiccuped vocals. Even when they add more percussion, it’s largely amped up and unsettling. Byrne’s lyrics follow suit, finding worry and anxiety in every aspect of modern life – buildings, animal, art, love, and even Heaven itself are all sources of concern. Byrne offers no answers, no hope for escape from the unease, just a constant reminder that things aren’t nearly as simple or as harmless as they seem on the surface. “Once in a Lifetime” decries the feeling of realizing that one has no idea how one’s life turned out the way it has with the simple mantra, “same as it ever was” – modern life is by its very nature unsettled, and that isn’t going to change.
Tellingly, the only real call to action Byrne issues is during “Girlfriend is Better”, when he exhorts that everything, “stop making sense,” as the only way to avert the sheer crushing inanity is to stop acting following logic and do something unpredictable. It is notable that this call to action, as minor as it is, comes on Speaking in Tongues, the last really good Talking Heads album, as it shows how the trajectory of the quality of their music traces the trajectory of their driving philosophy. Simply put, once the Heads stopped being nervous, they stopped being as musically interesting. Some bands are able to shift from their initial emotional core to embrace another, and maintain their vitality. Most aren’t, and Talking Heads falls apart like so many others when they start to grow emotionally and feel less trapped by the causes of their initial nervousness.
Thus, the first two albums and most of the third represent their artistic high points. Everyone needs to own these records. Remain in Light alters their sound by bringing in their noted afro-beat percussion, which, in and of itself, doesn’t hurt, but the songwriting drops off in the second half, with the notable exception of “The Overload”, where Weymouth’s bass finally drops to the bottom, the beats become darker and murkier, and Byrne’s nervousness finally succumbs to genuine fear. It’s a huge break from anything they had done before, and they would only really revisit it (mostly successfully) on the second half of their last album. However, Remain in Light is the last Talking Heads album I can fully endorse as a purchase.
Speaking in Tongues has the songs to be a great album, but it is also the album where recording in the 80’s finally catches up with them. Even remastered, the album is so tinny and bottom-light that it feels weightless and boring. There are any number of great albums that have suffered due to poor production, from ...And Justice for All to Give ‘Em Enough Rope to Raw Power (which may actually have accomplished the rare feat of being misproduced twice, sorry Iggy, but pushing EVERYTHING to 11 does not equal creating a more dynamic mix, it just means everything is one louder). Thankfully, the songs trapped in Speaking in Tongues' poor mix have an edge over those on these other albums, as Stop Making Sense has infinitely superior versions of all of the good songs on this album. Basically, buy that, avoid the studio album, as, except maybe for the studio version of “Burning Down the House”, it never comes close to its live counterpart.
Little Creatures and True Stories are completely forgettable records, with the notable exception of the former’s “Road to Nowhere”. Little Creatures is really where you can see Byrne trying to write more optimistic songs, and the nervousness of the band waning rapidly. Unfortunately, at this point, Byrne isn’t very good with this writing style, and they ultimately come of as flat and uninteresting at best, and pedantic and insulting at worst. The one bright spot is Byrne’s vocals as he begins to push toward the more soulful vocal style he would use in his solo work.
Naked isn’t quite a return to form, though it is better than the previous two albums, especially the last half, which revists the darkness of “The Overload”, reinserting some of that existential unease that was missing since Remain in Light. The only problem that I have with this album is the sequencing, in that “(Nothing But) Flowers” should have been the last song, as it perfectly sums up the situation in which Talking Heads, as a band, is no longer needed. The song, one of the band’s best, tells of an urban setting which, for reasons unexplained, is reverting back to nature – kind of like “Big Yellow Taxi” in reverse. Talking Heads, in addition to being the epitome of nervousness, is also the epitome of an urban band. Therefore, in the world of this song, a band that sings about finding a city to live in and taking the highway that runs next to the buildings, that rants about not trusting animals, that decries rural America with the pithy “I wouldn’t live there if you paid me too” (as ironic as these things are, of course) is no longer of value. Ultimately, for as nervous as Byrne was about modern city life, it at least was something he could express. Ultimately, Talking Heads wrote the song that defines their own obsolescence, the feeling of finding themselves in world they can no longer operate in and no longer grasp the parameters. It’s a perfect send-off for the band, and it is too bad it is widely seen merely as “that song that was in Clerks II.” (though it worked fairly well there). He ends “Flowers” with the perfect send-off, not just for the song, but for the band itself as an idea whose time had come, “I just can’t get used to this lifestyle.”
An important, and somewhat embarrassing note before we get into a discussion of my thoughts: I have never really listened to Talking Heads’ studio albums before two weeks ago. I had heard the original CD versions of some of the early album, and the incredibly trebly mix as compared to the remastered live albums turned me off of exploring any further.
The mix on the newer versions is a revelation to someone who only heard the original CDs. The increased clarity and, especially, the significantly strengthened low end is essential for this band. Tina Weymouth’s bass is the driving instrument for the Heads’ sound, and without her busy melodic lines, the band can become static and, frankly, quite boring. “Heaven” exemplifies the power Weymouth wields, transforming a pretty, but uneventful song into an absolute masterpiece by simply never falling into a real groove; her constant runs emphasizing the unease in David Byrne’s lyrics. Put simply, if you have not heard Talking Heads outside of the original CDs of the studio albums, you have not heard Talking Heads, which is a situation you might want to think about taking care of.
That being said, I would still direct any newly interested parties to the two live albums first, as this band really excels in that setting. While The Name of this Band... is the superior album, I would recommend starting with Stop Making Sense, simply because it has more of the “hits”, and works a bit better as a primer (it also makes one of the studio albums redundant, as I mention below).
As every fan of the band will note, though, no amount of remastering can alter the fact that the band’s output follows a too common trajectory, with ’77, More Songs about Buildings and Food, Fear of Music, and much of Remain in Light and Speaking in Tongues being absolutely vital, with the rest pretty forgettable. The reason for this downward trajectory is notable in that it exemplifies one of the more notable qualities of their early triumphs. Talking Heads: ’77 came out in its titular year, the height of Punk Rock, and the band cut its teeth in the same scene that helped to birth that movement. However, I have always found it difficult to mentally define Talking Heads as a punk band. It’s not the sound of the music, as I have a fairly broad view of what punk rock can be musically; it was something else, something intrinsic. During the course of listening to everything, I finally put my finger on it.
If one gets to the bottom of everything, every musical genre/movement has at its core a specific emotional basis. Rock & Roll, at its origin, was about youthful exuberance, rap is empowerment, metal is masculinity, country is longing, etc. (yes, I know there are TONS of exceptions to all of these, but I think the core is there, but I would love to hear alternatives). Punk rock, at its emotional core, is the music of anger, and anger’s cousin emotions of frustration and indignation. Post-punk, as a genre, on the other hand, has at its emotional core anxiety, fear, and nervousness. Where Punk is an attack against the status quo, whether that be the government or the fact one’s girlfriend dumped him, post-punk sees that status quo and accepts it as inevitability – you can’t fight the status quo, but you can certainly be scared of it. For example, The Buzzcocks’ “Ever Fallen in Love” deals with a similar factual situation as Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart”. The difference is how the narrators deal with the same set of facts. Pete Shelley seethes at the difficulty of situation, but offers the glimmer of hope in “we won’t be together much longer, unless we realize that we are the same,” holding forth a possible way to save things. Ian Curtis doesn’t permit this speck of hope, deeming the failure of the relationship not just imminent, but inexorable – “Love WILL tear us apart, again.” Similarly, one can compare The Clash’s “Career Opportunities” to Talking Heads’ “Don’t Worry about the Government” – while The Clash fight the impulse to settle into a menial job, David Byrne accepts it as a inevitability, he is going to have to settle into his modern building with every modern convenience to allow him to give up his life to work, except for the few times he is able to slip away because his “friends are important”. Byrne’s “Psycho Killer” is far from the swaggering, evil sociopath of horror films, but a troubled, jittery, compulsive mess, who just genuinely cannot control himself.
Ultimately, while Talking Heads pre-dates post-punk, they have an emotional core much closer to that later movement than they do that of what has become accepted as punk. There are a few other early punk-era bands that have similarly out-of-sync emotional cores that become much easier to categorize if they are considered as precursors to post-punk, such as Television and Pere Ubu. Talking Heads are the best example, though, as they basically epitomize the nervous end of post-punk’s anxious core. Everything is on edge and over-caffeniated, from the previously-mentioned bass lines to the skittery guitar lines to Byrne’s hiccuped vocals. Even when they add more percussion, it’s largely amped up and unsettling. Byrne’s lyrics follow suit, finding worry and anxiety in every aspect of modern life – buildings, animal, art, love, and even Heaven itself are all sources of concern. Byrne offers no answers, no hope for escape from the unease, just a constant reminder that things aren’t nearly as simple or as harmless as they seem on the surface. “Once in a Lifetime” decries the feeling of realizing that one has no idea how one’s life turned out the way it has with the simple mantra, “same as it ever was” – modern life is by its very nature unsettled, and that isn’t going to change.
Tellingly, the only real call to action Byrne issues is during “Girlfriend is Better”, when he exhorts that everything, “stop making sense,” as the only way to avert the sheer crushing inanity is to stop acting following logic and do something unpredictable. It is notable that this call to action, as minor as it is, comes on Speaking in Tongues, the last really good Talking Heads album, as it shows how the trajectory of the quality of their music traces the trajectory of their driving philosophy. Simply put, once the Heads stopped being nervous, they stopped being as musically interesting. Some bands are able to shift from their initial emotional core to embrace another, and maintain their vitality. Most aren’t, and Talking Heads falls apart like so many others when they start to grow emotionally and feel less trapped by the causes of their initial nervousness.
Thus, the first two albums and most of the third represent their artistic high points. Everyone needs to own these records. Remain in Light alters their sound by bringing in their noted afro-beat percussion, which, in and of itself, doesn’t hurt, but the songwriting drops off in the second half, with the notable exception of “The Overload”, where Weymouth’s bass finally drops to the bottom, the beats become darker and murkier, and Byrne’s nervousness finally succumbs to genuine fear. It’s a huge break from anything they had done before, and they would only really revisit it (mostly successfully) on the second half of their last album. However, Remain in Light is the last Talking Heads album I can fully endorse as a purchase.
Speaking in Tongues has the songs to be a great album, but it is also the album where recording in the 80’s finally catches up with them. Even remastered, the album is so tinny and bottom-light that it feels weightless and boring. There are any number of great albums that have suffered due to poor production, from ...And Justice for All to Give ‘Em Enough Rope to Raw Power (which may actually have accomplished the rare feat of being misproduced twice, sorry Iggy, but pushing EVERYTHING to 11 does not equal creating a more dynamic mix, it just means everything is one louder). Thankfully, the songs trapped in Speaking in Tongues' poor mix have an edge over those on these other albums, as Stop Making Sense has infinitely superior versions of all of the good songs on this album. Basically, buy that, avoid the studio album, as, except maybe for the studio version of “Burning Down the House”, it never comes close to its live counterpart.
Little Creatures and True Stories are completely forgettable records, with the notable exception of the former’s “Road to Nowhere”. Little Creatures is really where you can see Byrne trying to write more optimistic songs, and the nervousness of the band waning rapidly. Unfortunately, at this point, Byrne isn’t very good with this writing style, and they ultimately come of as flat and uninteresting at best, and pedantic and insulting at worst. The one bright spot is Byrne’s vocals as he begins to push toward the more soulful vocal style he would use in his solo work.
Naked isn’t quite a return to form, though it is better than the previous two albums, especially the last half, which revists the darkness of “The Overload”, reinserting some of that existential unease that was missing since Remain in Light. The only problem that I have with this album is the sequencing, in that “(Nothing But) Flowers” should have been the last song, as it perfectly sums up the situation in which Talking Heads, as a band, is no longer needed. The song, one of the band’s best, tells of an urban setting which, for reasons unexplained, is reverting back to nature – kind of like “Big Yellow Taxi” in reverse. Talking Heads, in addition to being the epitome of nervousness, is also the epitome of an urban band. Therefore, in the world of this song, a band that sings about finding a city to live in and taking the highway that runs next to the buildings, that rants about not trusting animals, that decries rural America with the pithy “I wouldn’t live there if you paid me too” (as ironic as these things are, of course) is no longer of value. Ultimately, for as nervous as Byrne was about modern city life, it at least was something he could express. Ultimately, Talking Heads wrote the song that defines their own obsolescence, the feeling of finding themselves in world they can no longer operate in and no longer grasp the parameters. It’s a perfect send-off for the band, and it is too bad it is widely seen merely as “that song that was in Clerks II.” (though it worked fairly well there). He ends “Flowers” with the perfect send-off, not just for the song, but for the band itself as an idea whose time had come, “I just can’t get used to this lifestyle.”
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