Monday, December 31, 2007

My 2007

Around now, a lot of young people are reveling in the year-end best-of reviews of music and pop culture in general. Debating siblings and friends about what album was the best one released in a given year is a fun way to participate in the culture. It used to be for me, at least.

But at my advanced age, I can’t possibly keep up with all of the musical developments of the year. There are just too many artists to keep track of to be able to weed out the great from the merely worthwhile. And the term “worthwhile” takes on an added urgency when you realize that you don’t have many “whiles” left as you used to. So the things you spend it on – musical or otherwise – better be, well, worth it.

So I’ve left 2007 pretty much alone, letting the dust settle on it before jumping in. Instead, I’ve begun to dip into 2006, along with any other pretty colors that may have momentarily attracted my limited attention span.

So I have to define the musical year differently. My 2007 is not based on what was released this year. It’s based on what I either bought or was given. So it couldn’t be anything like yours.

Anyway, here’s mine:


Loved Them:

I’m not yet sure if either of these CDs is hall of fame material yet, but the Go-Betweens go deep and Polly Jean has a high on base average.

Oceans Apart-The Go Betweens (2006)
Beauty, pain, death, tears, and maybe forgiveness. Guitars, too. Never heard of them? Don’t get me started…

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Darlinghurst Nights
via FoxyTunes

Stories of the City, Stories of the Sea-PJ Harvey (2000)
I’ve gotten two of her earlier albums: “Rid of Me”, which is like knocking off a bottle of scotch on a Saturday night with a psychotic/nymphomaniac, and “To Bring You My Love”, which is like spending Sunday morning with her, after she’s found religion. Both can be bracing experiences, but aren’t my idea of fun. Here, you get hit with the chiming guitars right out of the gate, and she’s telling you how she’s got to get away from the violence. So she moves from England. To New York. Before 9/11. So her timing's not great, but the important thing is that she’s upped the tune factor, and cut back slightly on the histrionics. The result is bracing, but in a fun way.



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Now playing: PJ Harvey - You Said Something
via FoxyTunes


Really Good:

These are very entertaining records that might yet move up to Love over time.

Pink Moon - Nick Drake (1972)
This is sparer than “Five Leaves Left” – no strings, just Nick and his guitar - maybe because he’s closer to the end.

Solo Monk - Thelonius Monk (1964)
If you don’t know what a great composer he was, you could mistake him for a Scott Joplin for the 60s. You might even think he’s hitting the wrong notes, but he’s just re-writing things as he goes.


Still Getting My Ears Around:

Egypt - Youssou N’dour (2004)
This is the guy (yes, the guy) who sings at the end of “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. He’s a superstar in his native Senegal, and I quite liked his album “Nothing’s In Vain”, but I’m not even close to getting to the bottom of this very pleasant mixture of Middle Eastern and African music.

Fox Confessor Brings the Flood - Neko Case (2006)
This is pretty and spooky at the same time - like a country music soundtrack to “Twin Peaks”. And when spread out over a humongous playlist in Windows Media Player, each song stands out. I’m just not yet convinced that all the individual parts add up to a great CD.

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Now playing: Neko Case - Hold On, Hold On
via FoxyTunes


The Discount Bin, or Hey, at $6.99, how can you go wrong?

Aoxomoxoa - The Grateful Dead (1969)
The songwriting is beginning to strengthen, and they never sounded so muscular in the studio. Only one laughable track. (Hey, they were on drugs at the time.) And the bonus jam tracks are very good.


Disappointments:

Neon Bible - Arcade Fire (2007)
Actually quite good, just not as powerful as it’s trying to be. And a letdown after "Funeral".

Live at the Apollo - James Brown (1962)
I really shouldn’t complain. It is James Brown live after all. But it’s short, so a greatest hits collection (like “30 Golden Hits”, or the 4 CD box set “Start Time” would be better. Definitely not bad, but sometimes live albums make you feel like you had to be there.

Return to Cookie Mountain - TV on the Radio (2006)
It’s got tons of sound, and is occasionally striking, but too often is just a lot of noise. And the singing isn’t good enough. But I’ll keep trying.


What I Got for Christmas:

This amounts to a subset of “Still Getting My Ears Around”. This is where I ask for gifts that I’d feel too guilty just getting for myself. There’s usually some experimentation here, which can be cause, during the cold winter months, for joyful immersion or deep depression as I ask myself just what kind of weird music I’m getting myself into. But as our use of the word “weird” is merely a reflection of our own provincialism, I carry on proudly, feeling superior to all around me. And isn’t that the point of life?

So I won’t know what I’ve got until at least March.

Spring Hill Fair - The Go Betweens (1986)
Will this be yet another classic from the Australian band of the 80s? Yeah, you heard me. You can keep your INXS, Men at Work, etc.

John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, featuring Eric Clapton – (1966)
Bitchin’ blues guitar from a post-Yardbirds and pre-Cream Clapton, and crappy singing from Mayall. Next year, I’ll go back to the originals that are covered here.

Brazil Classics, Volume 4: The Best of Tom Ze (1970s)
Gentle, but strange Tropicalia.

The Rough Guide to Youssou N’dour and Etoile Dakar (1980s)
A long vacation in Senegal.


I suppose that I ought to have a “Bad” category, but I rarely feel like I’ve gotten something that falls into that category. This may seem like the denial of a grim reality – bad music – but I guess I’m just too pig headed. I’ll force myself to listen to something over and over until I get it. Sometimes I never do. It’s great!

I got fourteen CDs altogether this year, and by my rough count, they average out to about 20 years old each. This gives the lie to my blog’s description, which refers to “current pop music”. But let’s face it, you don’t think in terms of years anymore, anyway. You think in terms of decades. Ouch!

It was an average year. I wish that there were a few more “Love”s. The great years are the ones where I get a truckload of music and five or six Loves rise to the top. I find that, unlike most things, more music is better.

Well, that was my 2007. How was yours?

Friday, December 14, 2007

Sound Advice - Belle and Sebastian's "If You're Feeling Sinister"

If You're Feeling SinisterThe other night, while watching one of those VH1 Top something of the 80s, I couldn’t get over how similar all of the music was. Regardless of style or genre, it was all very, very…busy. Everyone seemed to be trying to fill up every last bit of aural space available - sometimes with volume, but mostly with…stuff. There must have been a fear of leaving any moment empty of sound, as if an occasional silence couldn’t contribute to the overall musical effect.
Since this was the era of the music video, the feeling may have been that although the video image was meant to complement the music, it was really competing with it – sort of an updated version of radio’s fear of “dead air”, where even a moment of silence could cause a potential listener to bypass your station. Instead, in this case, it was feared that any letup in the sound would give the image the chance to take over. But I can’t say that the resulting information overload ever conveyed a performance as real or as intimate as the most over-the-top show stopper from an MGM musical. And I hate musicals.
I’ve got nothing against commercial music, and even consider 1984 (Springsteen, Prince, Cyndi Lauper, Tina Turner) a banner year for it. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with a professionally recorded album. Michael Jackson’s “Off the Wall” and the Pet Shop Boys’ “Very” are terrific records, as slick or even ornate as they might be, because they are also full of emotion.
And loud is good. too. I caught the Clash at Shea Stadium, opening for the Who, in 1982. The latter were well past their prime, but they had the sound system needed to fill that huge space. I hate to admit it, but that night, they were better than the Clash. Even if the Clash used the Who’s equipment, I doubt that they would have been better. It just seemed to me that their music was better suited to a smaller space, like Bond’s, where I had seen them the year before, to much better effect. But that night at Shea belonged to the Who.
I have more of a problem with what I call the “arena” sound, which is when an artist’s original conception of their music is based on it being played in a huge arena. I suppose if you’re very famous, thinking this way makes a lot of sense, but I’m referring to a sound I identify with the “hair bands” and commercial heavy metal music, which is hard to imagine being played in a club or even mid-sized auditorium. I guess it’s “rock” music, in the strict sense of hardness, but I wouldn’t call it rock and roll, which should connote motion and joy. Tens of thousands of people shaking their fists in unison reminds me more of a Nazi-rally than a party. Or maybe I’m just a snob that hates crowds. In any case, more is not necessarily better.
So my preference is for something more modest, more intimate. That doesn’t mean that it has to be quieter, though. I mean something that sounds like it’s being played in a space that accommodates somewhat less, actually way less, than 50,000. Joy Division’s “Dead Souls” (from “Substance”, or the soundtrack to “Control”) sounds like it was recorded in a padded room from which the singer is desperately trying to escape. The guitarist is trying to help him by playing louder than anyone I’ve ever heard, and not just because he’s turned the amp up to 11 – everyone does that - but rather because it’s all happening in this very finite space. It feels like the walls are about to crash down around you. Another example of this is “Just Like Honey” by the Jesus and Mary Chain (from “Psychocandy”, but it can also be heard at the end of “Lost in Translation”), which conveys a somewhat larger room, but one that is still going to collapse anyway. With all of the distortion and echo, the guitar is so loud that it’s almost funny, especially since the singer sounds like he just woke up.
My favorite music has all of the accompaniment that it needs – but no more and no less. It’s true to itself, not necessarily the company you’re having over. So sometimes it’s best to listen to this music alone.
I notice this a lot with older albums. They have a hard time competing with the clarity that current recordings are capable of, let alone the ones that insist on throwing everything at you. I sometimes have to brace myself when I’ve bought an old album because I’m afraid that the sound quality will be an obstacle to the enjoyment of the music. It’s important to get past that if you ever hope to enjoy music recorded more than a couple of decades ago. Of course, this is irrelevant to most people, who are perfectly happy with what is put right in front of them. “But,” as the Beautiful South say, “you want more!”
There are many older albums, like “Layla”, that have quite a lot going on inside, but that don’t sound busy. Maybe that’s because it can’t yield those details with perfect clarity anyway. Over the years, I’ve gotten it three times - twice on vinyl and once on CD – each time assuming it would be a little clearer. And it was, sort of. Yet, it seemed to have this impenetrable core that I wanted to somehow pierce without ruining. (We do “murder to dissect”, after all). But “Layla” is a great example of music that will not be dissected. The core of it is there but I’ll never quite make it out.
And yet there are a number of current artists who accept, and actually embrace, similar limitations in sound quality. They don’t worry that all of the musical details get through the speakers in pristine condition, instead counting on overall impact. This approach – sometimes called lo-fi – has been around ever since the punk era, and is a virtual guarantee that the record will not get much airplay. (Radio audiences don’t like to have to keep playing with the volume knob.) But I think these artists are trying to make music you can’t get to the bottom of.
When the lo-fi approach is used now, the artist may be using a deliberate strategy to evoke the sound of an era for which lo-fi was a given, not a choice. In other words, it’s a cheap shortcut to a certain audience’s emotions. You could even argue that, with better recording techniques available now, lo-fi is used to cover up bad technique, with the result that it also covers up potentially good music.
What really matters, though, is the final result. Just try to think of bad lo-fi music as the racket coming out of your neighbor’s house. Good lo-fi is the racket coming out of yours.
And besides, some lo-fi records are actually kind of pretty. There are albums with music that is so great that it takes me a while to realize that the recording isn’t crystal clear.
One great example of this is “If You’re Feeling Sinister” by Belle and Sebastian. This is one of those rare records that will bring you back to a time that may have never existed in the first place. It might sound a bit muddy compared to other contemporary CDs, but it will sound quite pleasant to those of us who used to listen to their music on portable record players.
That evocation of another time is also managed by the use of certain instruments that were in vogue at that time. B&S manage to avoid the more obvious ones, like the farfisa organ or - god help us - the sitar. They prefer instead to add a touch of electric piano or even vibes, and that makes all the difference between what is merely pleasant, and what is haunting.
But B&S won’t let you off with mere nostalgia. Their subject matter is a little more modern. There’s the cool but admiring one about the “beautiful people”, the couple who thought they were seeing other people but maybe aren’t, and the woman who’s into bible studies and S&M. And it’s hard as heck to keep the genders straight. So by the time you hear “The Fox in the Snow”, the emotion is well earned.
When I first put this record on, I had to turn it way up because it starts off at a whisper. The first song slowly builds in volume, all the while unfolding its melody, until, like a wave at the beach, it knocks you down and washes you away. Several other songs pull at you like the undertow before you realize how far out you are.
I’ll admit that it can be a bit precious, and the singing’s occasionally weak. There’s the bad joke (rhyming “minister” and “sinister”) in the chorus that takes away from the otherwise beautiful title song. “Me and the Major” tries to fit in too many lyrics into the flow of the music. And “Get Me Away From Here” is fun until you hear “I’m dying” a dozen times. It reminds me too much of the Smiths.
But there are at least three absolute classics (“Seeing Other People”, “Like Dylan at the Movies” and “Fox in the Snow”) here, and a couple of others that come close, although we’d probably disagree about which are which.
So, even with some minor flaws, it’s still one of the best records of the 90s (or is that the 60s?). And as beautiful as I think this music is, I don’t play it for company. Belle and Sebastian are a very private pleasure.


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Now playing: Belle and Sebastian - Seeing Other People
via FoxyTunes

Friday, December 7, 2007

Are You Passionate? - The Arcade Fire

I got an exhilarating glimpse of passionate music from two different video clips on YouTube the other night, both involving the Arcade Fire. The first clip featured them live in concert, performing “Keep the Cars Running” - a song from their second album, “Neon Bible”. They were joined onstage by none other than Bruce Springsteen, who fit in perfectly with these young Canadians. This was a Springsteen song if ever there was one. It’s just that someone else wrote it.
The second clip featured the Arcade Fire on stage, this time with U2, whom they toured with recently. They were performing Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” – a song that alone makes up for all of the cheesy synthesizer moves in pop music over the years. But no one was playing a synthesizer in this clip. It was just a bunch of people playing a song they loved with the instruments at hand.
So in the space of two clips, they pulled together four strands of “passionate music”. That should be a redundant term - music is supposed to be passionate, and many artists spend a lot of time trying to simulate it. (I’m no purest, though. I’ll take a good fake over genuine garbage any day.) So whatever you may think of the artists in question, I’m willing to believe that they mean it – that they put it on the line every time.
I like clever as much as the next guy. Funny is good, too. Loud and fast is great. But passionate is best. It burns out, it doesn’t rust.
Such artists are easy to spoof, but that’s the risk they take and I deeply respect them for it. And Arcade Fire, fits right into this category. There are parts on both of their albums when it seems like the singer has gone off the deep end, and the band is right there behind him. This can seem ridiculous at times, but that’s the high wire act they perform on.
Their first record, “Funeral”, could remind you of early Talking Heads, carrying on that grand tradition bands led by complete lunatics. Win Butler’s voice does not always make it up to the register he insists on singing in. But that’s okay. He practically starts crying on the very first song (“Tunnels”). But, damn, if you don’t get totally swept up in it. “Laika” sounds like a gypsy caravan has crashed into your house. “Power Out” is anything but. “Wake Up” and “Rebellion (Lies)” could raise the dead. And it all ends with the beautiful and powerful “In the Backseat”.
But there are several quieter moments, like “Haiti” and “Kettles”, throughout. This contrast in tone is one of the reasons why “Funeral” is a stronger record than “Neon Bible”. The quiet spots make the peaks seem all the higher.
I do like the second one a lot, too, but it’s more like a Springsteen or U2 album, and I miss the quirkiness. I think the problem with it is epitomized by “Intervention”, which begins with a church organ. It’s hard to rev it up further when that’s your starting point. It’s a perfectly good song, and I suspect that it’s brilliant when played live.
“Neon Bible” does have its great moments like “Keep the Car Running” and “No Cars Go”. The finale, “My Body is a Cage”, is fine, but it’s got that damned church organ. “Funeral”s finale - “In the Backseat” – by contrast, settles for a rock-and-roll-with-violin arrangement to much greater effect. And this is the other reason why “Funeral” is the better album. The instrumentation is more limited, but they do more with it.
But maybe I’m mistaken. Perhaps number two has a more powerful overall sound. The issues are less private and more political. Maybe that will resonate more with you than with me.
In any case, the Arcade Fire reach for, and often achieve, a level of emotional urgency are that are undeniable. In this day of calculated effect, they will not settle for entertaining you. Judging from the video clips I saw, their concerts are transcendent.
Their music can be a little uncomfortable but it’s because they are asking you, are you passionate? They sure are.

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Now playing: Arcade Fire - Rebellion
via FoxyTunes

Friday, November 23, 2007

Santa Claus vs. The Go-Betweens - Christmas Music

There are two basic types of Christmas music - official and personal. You are aware of the former but may not recognize the latter.

First, a clarification: I’d call it holiday music, but I don’t know a damned thing about Hannukah or Kwanzaa, and when was that last time you heard a Thanksgiving song, anyway? So I hope you’ll bear with me when I simply call it Christmas music.


Official Christmas Music:

This is the music that pertains to the holidays. You know what I mean - the stuff you begin to hear in the shopping malls right after Labor Day. It goes into heavy rotation from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. If it’s played again after that, mass suicides are sure to ensue.

Once Thanksgiving passes, the wife and kids can’t wait to put Official Christmas Music (OCM) on in the house. I don’t see the point myself. If you’re going to be bombarded with it outside why bring it inside? I don’t want to hear OCM until Christmas Eve at six pm, when I’ve finally gotten my shopping done and I can get into the holiday spirit. (This lasts about eighteen hours.)

In mid-December 1979, while my roommate, his girlfriend and I were decorating our tree, I decided to put on some music. I picked something pretty, but definitely non-Christmas. I thought that the tree trimming combined with the music would be sufficient to get us into a holiday mood that we could call our own. To me, those are the best ones. But after a short while, my roommate’s girlfriend politely asked, “Ahem, do you have any, you know, Christmas music?”

Now I’ve got nothing against Christmas music per se. My strong preference is, of course, for good Christmas music, which I define simply as holiday music you can stand to hear more than once. So I’ve learned my lesson and have tried over the years to get some OCM for the sake family, friends (and myself).

Here are some of my favorites:

 The Bells of Dublin
The Bells of Dublin by the Chieftains
An Irish Christmas, musically, anyway. (The other kind, I don't know that I'd recommend.) It’s got the usual suspects (Elvis Costello, Ricki Lee Jones, Jackson Browne, etc.) as guest stars, which is normally a dead giveaway that it’s NOT a great album. But here, just about everyone shines.

I bought this record out of desperation because I was low on holiday music, and had set my expectations to…okay. But the sound was clear and bright, the musicianship excellent (and more importantly enthusiastic) and there is a commitment to each performance that rises above professionalism and into joy from all concerned that actually translates into music you want to hear over and over again. It’s got the best version of “Deck the Halls” ever.

A great Christmas album and a great album.

A Charlie Brown Christmas by the Vince Guaraldi Trio
If you’ve seen the TV show, you’ve heard most of this music already, so you already know whether you like it or not. Play it right after everyone’s gone home and you can finally relax. A great example of making something new out of something old. A damned good jazz album, too.


 New Wave Xmas: Just Can't Get Enough
Christmas with electric guitars! Who could ask for more?
The ones you know: “2000 Miles” by the Pretenders and “The Little Drummer Boy” by David Bowie and Bing Crosby.
The one you may know: “Fairy Tale of New York” by the Pogues and Kirsty Macoll, which gets my vote for all time greatest modern Christmas song.
The ones you probably don’t know: “Christmas Time” by the Chris Stamey Group and “Mary Xmess” by Sun 60.
And many more. A real pleasure.


Personal Christmas Music:

“Personal” Christmas music, on the other hand, is the music you happen to hear around the holidays, but that otherwise has no connection to them other than the one you attach to it yourself.

 While OCM may bring back vague recollections of childhood Christmases, the advantage of PCM is that it can bring you back to the specific year in which you first heard it.

Since PCM is deeply subjective, I understand now that while it’s good for me, it probably isn’t good for guests. It’s too much to expect them to enjoy what I happen to be obsessing over at the moment. Maybe they’re already obsessing over something else anyway. And it’s probably an illusion to think that my current obsession is somehow more apt for the holiday season other than that it’s great music. I may have heard a great album in December that you heard in July. So that makes my holiday memories your summer vacation memories.

I should add that it’s not quite enough for my PCM to only be great music. “Daydream Nation” by Sonic Youth is a good album, but it’s loud and harsh, and not a good accompaniment to a Thanksgiving morning preparing hors d’oeuvres and dressing a colicky three month old for a long drive. So, I’ve learned to hedge my bets a little and, when given the choice, pick positive over negative, soothing over intense, emotional over intellectual. This is a no-brainer for people other than me.

And I’ll now admit to what may already be obvious - that I’ve come to “engineer” the whole thing by making sure to visit the record store a few days before Thanksgiving. This is stupid, pathetic, over-determined, non-spontaneous, and worst of all, fallible. But since these words apply equally well to me, I still do it. And when it works – more often than you’d think – it’s magical.

A word about new holiday songs, by which I mean either new songs, or new versions of old ones. If they’re bland or forgettable, they will simply be added to the vast store of Official Christmas music and get recycled for next holiday season. But if they are really good – an old song kept fresh (The Pretenders version of “Have Yourself a Merry Christmas”), or a great new one (ditto, “2,000 Miles”) - you can end up with the best of both worlds - a hybrid of the Official and Personal.

Another great example is “Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses, which brings me right back to the moment I first heard it. But this is rare. Most of the time, the song is either one or the other.



OCM vs. PCM

The difference between the OCM and PCM is the difference between what means a lot to the outside world and what means a lot to you. Depending on how much you’re in synch with the outside world, you might be quite satisfied with OCM, and not have a single song to call your own PCM. So score one for Santa.

What it really boils down to, in essence, is this: the difference between OCM and PCM is that OCM reminds you of the good things that have happened while PCM tells you that good things are still possible. This is why I will always need PCM. It’s also why I do this blog.

So I feel compelled to tell you about a couple of my favorite PCM records. They were heard around the holidays, and thus, made those holidays better:

1978-1990
I bought this “best-of, plus rarities” in 1990 during one of my traditional pre Thanksgiving shopping trips because I had heard and loved “Streets of Your Town”. We listened to it (along with the six others I got that day, but I’m better now) on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, while preparing hundred layer dip for the next day’s dinner at mom’s house.

I could tell from the very first listen that this record was going to stick with me, especially when I heard “Bye-bye Pride”, “Second Hand Furniture” and “Right Here”. I’ve hesitated to recommend this record because the G-Bs are like a good bottle of wine in a soda pop world - the first taste is a bit dry but before you know it, you’ve finished the bottle.

So the singing could sometimes be better, or the melody occasionally takes a back seat to the words, but that’s fine because the band always finds the best way to put each song across, whether it’s the slammin’ drummer who just happens to be a lady, the occasional strings and brass, or the guitars - usually one acoustic and one electric – the former never tired, and the latter always reminding you that this is not folk music. Oh, and by the way, the songs are awesome.

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Bye Bye Pride
\via FoxyTunes  


Oceans Apart
The G-Bs then went on hiatus for twelve years. The songwriters – Robert Forster and Grant McLennan - released a number of solo albums before getting back together in 2002, and doing three more records. Since then Grant McLennan has passed away.

On my most recent pre-Thanksgiving music trip, I decided to give this, their last record, a try. I am happy to report that our 2007 holiday season has already been indelibly marked by this marvelous record. Robert Forster’s “Darlinghurst Nights” is a high point, and Grant McLennan may have been saving his best for last. “Finding You”, “Boundary Rider” and “The Statue” are among the best songs he’s ever done. So long live Grant McLennan.

This band consistently made music that achieved the very rare balance of beauty and resilience. Autumnal. Quirky. Proud. Long live the Go-Betweens.

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Now playing: The Go-Betweens - Boundary Rider
via FoxyTunes


And The Winner Is…

I can’t expect anyone to believe that these two records mean more to me than all the Christmas music I’ve ever heard. So I guess that means that Santa Claus wins. But let’s face it, he had help from Jesus.

But that leads me to this question – What would Jesus listen to? That’s easy. The Go-Betweens.

Happy Holidays.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

The Old Fogey's Guide to R.E.M.

R.E.M. came along when most reasonable people my age were growing up and getting married. I latched onto them in 1984 after I heard that their first album, “Murmur” very nearly beat out “Thriller” for top album of the year in a major critic’s poll in 1983. Back then, they were even able to get some airplay for “Radio Free Europe”, because they, along with U2, were cult favorites of AOR radio stations. That probably wouldn’t happen now.
The difference between the two bands was that Bono could swallow a stadium whole when he sang, whereas Michael Stipe preferred to go hide in the corner. I could relate a lot better to the latter, so I went with R.E.M.. The wife chose U2, but we worked through it.
No artist who has been around for nearly thirty years can expect their fans to get their every record. After all, there are other artists, too, not to mention baby formula to buy.
If you have nothing by them, I suppose it would make some sense to pick up one of their best-ofs, but such collections rarely give me the satisfaction that I get from the original albums of any good artist.
I can reasonably cover the 1982 – 1997 period, and have summarized the high points below. I work my way down from what I think you might like best, to their less accessible, but very worthy work:

Automatic for the People
This one seems to please the most people and I can understand why. I don’t think it’s quite their best but it is right up there. You already know the hits – “Man on the Moon”, “The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight” and “Everybody Hurts”, but you may not have heard “Nightswimming”, “Find a River” or “Sweetness Follows”, which are at least as good.

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Now playing: R.E.M. - Nightswimming
via FoxyTunes

Out of Time
Out of Time (1991):
There is so much beauty on this record (“Near Wild Heaven”, “Texarkana”, “Belong”) it’s nearly unbearable. The only reason I don’t rate this one higher is that it you might find it too pretty, or you may not like the rap on “Radio Song”. or the brooding “Low” (which to me is merely the deep breath before the rush to follow, which itself doesn’t stop until the Neil Young-like “Country Feedback”). Okay, that’s everything you could possibly find wrong with this record. The rest of it is absolutely joyous. Oh yeah, it’s got “Losing My Religion” and “Happy, Shiny People”, too. It finishes off with “Me in Honey”, which, thanks to Kate Pierson, is one of the best songs of the decade.

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Now playing: R.E.M. - Me in Honey
via FoxyTunes

Murmur 
Murmur (1983):
My personal favorite, on principle really, since I heard it first. But I’m having trouble justifying it since “Out of Time” came out. While it’s arty and obscure (it’s been called “Mumble” by some detractors) I hear it as classic rock coming from the room down the hall. I’ve gotten it as a present for at least a few people, and their initial look of puzzlement eventually gives way to a grudging acknowledgement that this is a really good album. It’s probably the album of the 80s, too.

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Now playing: Pearl Jam - Talk About the Passion
via FoxyTunes


Chronic Town 
Chronic Town (1982):
This EP is their first splash, and it practically trips over itself in its rush to hit you with words, drums, guitars. Fast, tuneful and strange. And I would love for someone to do a more commercial version of “1,000,000” or “Gardening at Night”. It’s also available as part of the B-side/rarity oriented “Dead Letter Office”.


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Now playing: R.E.M. - Gardening At Night
via FoxyTunes


Document 
Document (1987):
This one is loud and fierce. It’s got “The One I Love” and “It’s the End of the World as We Know It”. It’s also got the great “Finest Worksong”. Great line: “Standing on the shoulders of giants, leaves me cold…”

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Now playing: R.E.M. - Finest Worksong
via FoxyTunes


 New Adventures in Hi Fi
A little too long, but with a lot of variety. And “Electrolite” is one of their best ever. And the rock and roll is actually stronger than “Monster”.
The records I’ve skipped over ("Reckoning", "Fables of the Reconstruction", "Life's Rich Pageant", "Green", "Monster") are good but not great. They have many fine moments but seem to be halfway points or commercial compromises. Someone could make a great mix CD from them. But if you start from the top down here, you’ll know what all the fuss is about.

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Now playing: R.E.M. - Electrolite
via FoxyTunes

Monday, November 12, 2007

Music to be Trapped in a Van With - Badly Drawn Boy's "The Hour of Bewilderbeast"

The Hour of BewilderbeastI had the pleasure of inflicting this record on a captive audience on a long drive home from Thanksgiving dinner. I should really have known better - this usually turns out to be a disaster, for everyone but me, that is. But for once, it was a hit.
His name is Damon Gough. He’s a Scottish singer-songwriter-multi-instrumentalist who goes under the name of Badly Drawn Boy. You may know him from the soundtrack to “About a Boy”, but this is the one that put him on the map. What map, you ask? Okay, that’s a fair question, so just work with me on this…
If you’re going to have a strange name, maybe you should play it safe with the title of your debut album. So maybe calling it “The Hour of Bewilderbeast” isn’t the way to go. It gives the overall impression that the music will be... challenging. You know the kind I mean - the sometimes painful, but ultimately enriching type. In other words, it’s work - something that will make you a better person. No fun.
Well, not to worry. This is one of the most enjoyable albums of the decade. Tuneful from the get go, it’s an hour very well spent indeed. The songwriting is consistently excellent, and the instrumentation and pace are varied enough to keep any boredom from setting in. In case that’s not enough, he throws in sound effects between the songs, abruptly ends them, or even starts new ones right in the middle of others, just to keep you on your toes.
Things start off gently, with the cello, French horn and acoustic guitar of “The Shining” - a beautiful ballad. But before you can say wimp, the drums and guitar of “Everybody’s Stalking” kick in. BDB takes us from the contemplative to the rousing and then back again. “Magic in the Air” reminds me of Burt Bacharach. “Pissing in the Wind” (yup, you heard me) is full of heart and soul, “Disillusion” sounds like a hit from the 70s. Even the theme tune is great.
BDB plays most of the instruments on the record, and if you find the last two songs to be a little slow, it’s probably because he’s ready to drop from exhaustion. Damon counts Bruce Springsteen amongst his influences, but I hear the Beatles, circa the White Album. Damon’s not quite in that league, but then again, there’s only one of him.
This record will always remind me of that Thanksgiving drive home. After a rough year, “Bewilderbeast” music gave everyone in the van an hour of great pleasure, and many more after that.


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Now playing: Badly Drawn Boy - Magic in the Air
via FoxyTunes

Saturday, November 3, 2007

Cool Music to Play for Company - Coldplay and the Chills

Friends are coming over for dinner, and you're wondering what music you should put on. The same old crap yet again? I don’t think so. Try these instead:

 A Rush Of Blood To The Head
You have to hand it to these guys. They are right up there with emo (the genre, not the comedian) when it comes to the male sensitivity sweepstakes. And while I’m not crazy about their third album, and have only heard a little of their first, this one - their second- is quite good. Kind of like a U2, but more emphasis on the melo than on the drama.
Let’s skip over “Clocks”. You know the song – the one with the pretty piano. You’ve heard it. You like it. Let’s move on.
There’s the other one that’s slower – “The Scientist” - which you may have heard, too. Not bad.
My biggest problem with this record is that their lyrics get a little sappy. Chris Martin likes to sing about women saving him, and I’m sure he knows the ladies just eat that stuff up. Yet, I have to admit, these lyrics are attached to two of my favorite songs here – “Warning Sign” and “Amsterdam”. So basically they fake sincerity real well.
And they’re good at throwing in unexpected chords or textures that add more depth to a song. On their third record, “X&Y”, Chris Martin spends too much time singing way up there in a higher register (I guess this time the woman saved him by grabbing him by the balls.) and his voice isn’t strong enough for that. On “A Rush…”, his singing is in the middle range, simply filling in the spaces left by the other instruments, where it’s much more effective.
Other highlights are “Daylight” and “God Put a Smile On Your Face”.
It’s one of those rare CDs that won’t irritate normal people, but also won’t bore those of us who prefer to not be anesthetized.
It’s a hard album to dislike. God knows, I tried.

Submarine Bells
If you’ve read any previous posts, you’ve noticed that I have the habit, while recommending an album, of trying to inoculate the recommendee against what might be annoying about it. Well, try as I might, I can’t think anything about “Submarine Bells” that falls into that category, except perhaps its preoccupation with mortality. Well, you’re probably a little more pre-occupied with that now, too. And besides, the Chills wrap it up in music that can’t fail to stir you.
They are a guitar based pop band that occasionally revs things up loud. But for the most part they occupy a more subdued middle ground that keeps things from getting too out of hand.
“Heavenly Pop Hit” is exactly that, except for the hit part. And it goes on from there. “Don’t Be - Memory”, tucked away on the second half, is the great one here, but I didn’t come to that conclusion until about the twentieth listen. There were too many other songs that came close. And besides, the wife disagrees – her vote is for “Singing in My Sleep”. It’s hard to argue with her (in general).
The Chills hail out of New Zealand, which experienced a bit of a pop renaissance the late 80s. They released several records before ”Submarine Bells”, and only managed one more afterwards before breaking up.
It's a great “lost” (that is, if anything is ever lost anymore in this digital age) album of the 90s.
This is the music from which great memories are made.


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Now playing: Coldplay - Warning Sign
via FoxyTunes


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Now playing: The Chills - Tied Up in Chain
via FoxyTunes

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Two Down, Forty-Eight to Go - Sufjan Stevens "Illinois"

Come On Feel the IllinoiseNow is the time for all good men to come to aid of their fifty year old brothers and sisters by letting them know about great albums. You remember them, don’t you?
Albums were the novels of the sixties and seventies, and we used to live for the great ones, which seemed to be in plentiful supply at the time. The good news is that they still are. It’s just that with so many records being made now, and in so many different genres, finding the great ones very challenging. That’s one of the reasons for this blog – to help you find the needles in the haystack.
Sometimes, when I go into a record store like J&R, I look around at the thousands of albums around me and realize that I’ll never get to hear 99% of them. I’ll also be the first to admit that most of them either suck or just wouldn’t appeal to me. But even if that were true of 99% of them (and it isn’t) there would be more albums than I could ever get to know. So stop worrying about whether or not good music exists. It does. Let me help you find some.
The last great album I got was “Illinois” by Sufjan Stevens. My initial exposure to him was lukewarm. His covers of the Beatles “I’m Only Sleeping” and of Joni Mitchell’s “Free Man in Paris” were okay, so there was no reason to think I’d like his music. But there was “Illinois”, showing up on all sorts of top ten lists and, well, I caved.
And a good thing, too, because it turns out that it’s his own music that merits our attention. Armed with a fragile voice and what I have to describe as an orchestra with wings (you have to be there) “Illinois” is one of the most tuneful albums I’ve heard in years. It’s supposedly about the state of Illinois (sounds real promising, doesn’t it?), and with an album already out about Michigan, the remaining 48 states are apparently on his to-do list.
The album alternates between the very quiet and the orchestral. with several short musical interludes that unify the record. His whisper of a voice and insistent melodies do the rest.
He starts off very gently - maybe too gently - with “UFO Sighting”. (Since you could mistake the song titles for a lyric sheet, I’ve abbreviated them.) The pace ebbs and flows until it hits a plateau made up of one of the best song sequences on any album:
Jacksonville, where the woozy violin should be irritating, but is hypnotic instead.
Decatur”, about a step mom who deserved better than she got.
Chicago”, which may be the song of the decade.
“Casimir Pulaski Day”, a close second, about teenage love and cancer, which could have been sappy, but due to it’s understated delivery, is devastating instead.
By about now, I need a rest, but Sufjan keeps going. And about the only thing wrong with the remainder of the album is that it suffers slightly in comparison to what came before. And even here, we might disagree (“Predatory Wasp” or “Man of Steel” anyone?), since these songs would be considered high points on lesser albums.
In musical terms, the songs are pretty simple. Is that why they are so powerful? It could be because Sufjan is a master of the telling detail – the harmony on “Chicago”s line “I made a lot of mistakes”, the banjo on “Casimir Pulaski Day” or a dozen others.
I can imagine someone not loving his voice, or finding the orchestrations too busy, but I just can’t see someone disliking it. Give him a try, and maybe he can get around to your state.
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Now playing: Sufjan Stevens - Chicago
via FoxyTunes

Saturday, October 27, 2007

The Secret, or at Least Underplayed, History of the Kinks

You’ve probably heard this a million times already, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t true:

The Kinks were one of the best bands of the sixties, and Ray Davies was one of the greatest songwriters of the era.”

If left to radio airplay, the case would be based solely on some great early singles and “Lola”. The very respectable to somewhat annoying work they did in the seventies and eighties kept them in the public eye. My humble opinion is that the very stuff that makes the best case for them was somehow lost.

I find it amazing that people talk about how great the sixties were – something I’m a bit skeptical of myself – while overlooking, well, some of what made them great. I think these people are actually thinking of the seventies. (Math and History really ought to be emphasized more in schools, don’t you think?)

So let me help out here with my incomplete but very enlightening summary below:



Greatest Hits:

This is a very good 18 song intro, covering 1964-66, with all of the hits, and then some. Okay, so the Pretender’s version of “Stop Your Sobbing” is better. But “Where Have All the Good Times Gone?” gives the Beatles a good kick in the shins. A lot of fun.

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Now playing: The Kinks - Where Have All the Good Times Gone

via FoxyTunes




Face to Face (1966):

Ray Davies, having by now made a number of classic singles, seems committed to making quality albums. This one’s my favorite, and I consider it one of the great forgotten albums of the sixties. Wonderful songs all over the place. Don’t miss it.

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Now playing: The Kinks - Too Much on My Mind

via FoxyTunes




Something Else (1967):

Another great album, but very different from what anyone else was doing that year. Their most Kinks-like album, in its exploration of specifically English themes and styles, it’s less immediately accessible than “Face to Face”, but almost as good. It also continues their habit of loading up side one with the “friendlier” songs and putting the stranger stuff on side two. I highly recommend it.

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Now playing: The Kinks - David Watts

via FoxyTunes




Village Green Preservation Society (1968):

Again, totally out of step with current trends, celebrating rather than challenging tradition, and very, very English. Side two gets a little too precious, but side one is as good as anything they ever did. The cover shot has a fairly miserable looking Ray Davies on the right, either disapproving of everything else going on at the time, or just showing his frustration at not being more famous. I don’t blame him.

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Now playing: The Kinks - Johnny Thunder

via FoxyTunes




Arthur (1969):

There are only two great songs here (“Shangri-La” and “Victoria”, which are both on “The Kinks Kronikles”.) Ray Davies, perhaps knowing this, regrettably clutters up his music with horns. The band is quite game, though. A good album, but no more.

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Now playing: The Kinks - Victoria

via FoxyTunes




Lola, etc. (1970):

Don’t know - don’t have it, but the ones included on “Kinks Kronikles” are great. I'll pounce when the remastered version appears.




The Kinks Kronikles (1971):

At this point, they’ve switched record labels, so it was time for their old label to cash in with a greatest hits album. But since they didn’t have a whole lot of hits during this period, it instead turns out to be an overview of the prior five years, mixing singles with album highlights and great rarities. (How “She’s Got Everything” and “Days” only ended up tucked away here, I'll never understand). It’s quite special, and the ideal introduction to their wilderness years.

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Now playing: The Kinks - She's Got Everything

via FoxyTunes




The Great Lost Kinks Album:

As the album liner notes indicate, really a great lost album, assembled from various unrelated projects over several years. Although there are few songs here that would make their pantheon, it’s definitely worthwhile.


From this point forward, it’s clear that while Ray Davies would be capable of writing great songs, he was putting fewer of them on each album. By the time you get to Give the People What They Want:, they’ve lost me completely. Loud, not powerful. Crowd pleasing, not unique. The title is all too accurate in that they are now pandering, which is the last thing you want from the Kinks.


There are quite a few other collections around, but I haven’t found one that covers their entire career in a satisfactory way. Like with Dylan, the Beatles, and the Stones, it’s the “too many great songs” syndrome.

So, to sum up, consider getting:

Greatest Hits, if you want the early (1964-66) hits
Face to Face (1966), Something Else (1967), and Village Green (1968), in that order, for their peak period
Kinks Kronikles for the rarities and B-sides from that same period and the best songs from 1969-70.
Any compilation covering 1971 on, but you probably already know that.

And although I’ve focused mostly on Ray Davies himself, at every step along the way, he was more than ably supported by the band. They gave their all, fully committed to every one of his many flights of fancy. And to top it all off, his brother Dave wrote and sang some great songs himself.


After you’ve sampled some of these records I think you’ll be inclined to agree that it’s past time to give the Kinks their due. Raise your glasses for Ray and the boys!

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

The Secret, or at Least Underplayed, History of the Who

You remember the Who, right? When you were a kid, they did that cute single “Happy Jack”, and then they went away for a while. Then out of the blue, they did “Tommy” and the rest is history.

Well, not so fast. That’s the American Classic Rock radio version. Let’s dig a little deeper. Well, there was “Magic Bus” and “I Can See for Miles”, too, but that’s about it, right?

Well, no. And as much as I love “Tommy” and “Who’s Next”, I’d like to steal them from every radio station on earth for a few weeks, so they might be more tempted to play the records below. But they’re not going to do that, so it’s up to you.



Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy:

This album is a major reminder that before they became “serious” and “heavy”, the Who were a singles band, and a funny one at that. This one is probably worth having, even if you get the individual albums, too, because some of the songs didn’t make it to an album.



The Who Sing My Generation

Here they are, young and rude. Punk rock doesn’t seem all that surprising when you take a look at these guys ten years prior to that. While they originated, like many another British pop band, doing covers of American R&B hits, we catch them here towards the end of that phase, with not one but two(!) James Brown covers. It also contains “The Kids Are All Right”, which I consider an even greater youth culture song than the title track, which is no pushover. There are several other excellent Pete Townsend songs that I only got to know in 1984 when I finally bought this. Highly recommended.



A Quick One:

Not quite as strong as the debut, but with the wonderful “A Quick One (While He’s Away)” – Pete Townsend’s first stab at a rock opera - and “Happy Jack”. Even most of the non Townsend numbers are good. Definitely worthwhile.



The Who Sell Out:

My favorite Who album (yes, even better than “Tommy” or “Who’s Next”). It may be my all time favorite by anyone. If you can relax and settle down to enjoy the concept, which is a simulation of an AM radio station as they existed in the mid-sixties – commercials included - you will then begin to notice how great the songs are. “Tattoo”, “Odorono”, “Sunrise”, “Relax”, and “Rael” are amongst their very best songs ever. You will even notice bits of “Tommy” starting to form. On the reissued CD, there are ten good to excellent bonus tracks added, but the original “core” album is where the true brilliance – not to be confused with seriousness - lies. Absolutely essential.



Magic Bus On Tour:

NOT a live album, just a stop-gap between “Sell Out” and “Tommy”. All of the really good songs appear elsewhere, and if the CD reissues of the other albums continue to offer bonus tracks, this one becomes virtually unnecessary. Don’t bother.




So there you are - several vital early chapters of Who history that I hope will give you a more complete picture of their overall career, and convince you that they were even greater than you thought they were.



These days, whenever I hear Pete Townsend cashing in yet again on the same old material, and with an even bigger line of bs than before, I relax and think back to these records and remember the hero of “A Quick One”, who at the end, says You are forgiven!

Sunday, October 21, 2007

The Evil That Men Do, Part 3 - Drive Bys

During the coldest days of January, the prospect of summer will elicit a momentary nostalgia for open windows and soft breezes, but I am rudely disabused from any such reverie - usually in late March - by a much grimmer reality: drive bys. You know what I mean - the practice of blasting one’s car stereo, for the supposed benefit of home owners and passer-bys. It’s the equivalent of me living in my car, and driving through your neighborhood all the time.

Now my neighborhood is more likely to build a statue venerating, say, Franki Valli rather than John Lennon. Over time this preference has evolved to the current dance music, and the drive-bys here tend to reflect that.

The problem was recently exacerbated with the installation of a traffic light at the corner nearest to my house. I should be thankful that the neighborhood children are safer, but then again, aren’t they the ones who will just grow up to do the driving by in a few years? The true impact of this (meaning how it affects me personally) is that now the cars are no longer just driving by. They are stopping to wait for the light to change. I suppose that the increased amount of exhaust fumes ought to be of concern to me, but I’ll leave that to someone whose priorities are straight. I now get to hear entire verses of the hits of the day, right through my front window. I’m missing the upside to this.

And yet, there’s an even worse variation on this theme. Some of my fellow fifty year olds – with their tastes frozen in time – are now participating in this practice. I recently had the misfortune of sharing the road with the driver of a 1985 Cadillac with Jersey plates. He was tailgating and blasting his radio even more than I usually do. Rather than retaliate in some way, I felt the need to learn more about this man, so I tried to keep up. About an hour later, I finally got a glimpse and a listen. He was about my age, with his graying hair combed into a pompadour, and the song was Billy Joel’s “Movin’ Out”. I concluded that he was still living with his mom. (Shouldn’t you only play “Movin’ Out” if you’ve actually moved out?)

Of course, there are those who still play Barry Manilow or Celine Dion in this manner, but let’s face it - they’re beyond our help right now.

In my neighborhood’s first bid for cultural diversity, the guy across the street has started to blast his radio when working on his motorbike. It’s usually “Take it Easy” or “China Grove”. I tell myself that it could be worse. It could be “Free Bird”. (Oh wait, there it is…)

Of course, when I’m out there driving myself, I feel I must do my part to offset the bad affects of what I’ve had to hear, by adding my own preferred music to the mix. I realize that this might appear hypocritical of me, bur really, the only other alternative would be for me to build an automatic egg-thrower that targets sources of noise near the house - itself a toned down version of another revenge fantasy deemed even more anti-social by family members who’d like me to stay out of jail.

So when you see me driving by, blasting some ungodly noise that I feel you need to hear, just think about all the eggs I’m saving.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

The Evil That Men Do, Part 2 - Gift Giving

When it comes to the holidays or a birthday, we all agonize over what to get that special or not so special someone. I suspect that we all fall back on certain types of gifts. After all, kids buy their dads neckties (definitely NOT a hint), so it should come as no surprise that I would fall back on music. My wife attributes it to a lack of imagination. I’d argue if I could think of something.

For the most part, my friends would never be so presumptuous as to reciprocate. They probably feel that I can be presumptuous enough for the all of us.

On the surface of it, I sincerely think I can find something that the person will enjoy. Of course, if someone tried this on me, I’d be annoyed. I mean, really, how dare they (do exactly what I would do)? We all have delusions about being good at certain things. Mine is that I can impart good music to my poor friends, who in fact, were perfectly happy with their music before I got involved. So a little deeper down, I suspect I’m just trying to show off. (What, I wonder? That I have no taste?)

It’s great when the recipient actually makes an unsolicited positive comment about the gift. Occasionally I’ll get a rave (Graham Parker’s “Heat Treatment”, or Squeeze’s “Singles on 45”) but most often I’ll get the essentially non-committal “It was good” (which means It wasn’t worth the effort of going over to the stereo to smash it into a million pieces.) And sometimes I get no reaction at all, which usually translates to Let’s not speak of this again. This might have been Brian Eno, which is a shame, because that record (“Another Green World”) is still one of my absolute favorites. But maybe you need to know that.

Still further down is a presumption not only about the recipients taste, but about the recipient him or herself. I’m telling them I know you. I know what you like. Therefore, I know what you will like. I’ve got your number. I’ve got you figured out. Who the hell wants to feel like they’ve been figured out?

So I’ve recently hedged my bets a little by moving from pre-recorded CDs to mix CDs. This gives me the chance to mess with the variety and pacing. It also gives the recipient a break in case they totally hate a particular artist. It’s also a little less insulting because it says These are some of the songs I’ve heard recently that I like. You may like some, too, so you take it from there. This is far more modest. And it’s an invitation to let someone figure you out. Hey, whose idea was this, anyway?

On the few occasions I’ve gotten mix CDs, it’s been…problematic. If I was worried about people figuring me out, I’m past it now.

Lately, there’s been the fad of making mix CDs to give out as wedding favors. In theory, this would appear to be pretty sound, but the result is usually a lot of sentimental crap. Who the hell wants to hear a bunch of sappy songs about people in love? It’s almost as bad as having them over for dinner. I’d much prefer that people made such CDs with themes like “What I Happened to Be Listening To While Considering Suicide” or “The Music They Piped in at Rehab”.

As a matter of fact, I will be writing to my congressperson, recommending legislation that says if you gave out a mix CD at your wedding, you are now required by law to make one for your divorce. Now that would be a good CD.



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Now playing: Graham Parker & The Rumour - That's What They All Say
via FoxyTunes



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Now playing: Squeeze - Up The Junction
via FoxyTunes



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Now playing: Brian Eno - Everything Merges With the Night
via FoxyTunes

Monday, October 15, 2007

The Evil That Men Do, Part 1: Music for Captive Audiences

Why do we do this to each other? Why do we insist on inflicting our music on each other - in our homes, in our cars? Once you enter someone else’s living space you’re subjected to their taste. It’s just a matter of how strongly they insist on imposing it on you.

You do it to me because you assume everybody must like what you’re putting on. It’s a big hit, so normal people should like it. A big enough hit to penetrate the personal and professional smog you’ve surrounded yourself with by having a family and job. The CD is something we’ve all heard of, so there’s no presumption on your part in putting it on. In fact, you’re being nice. It’s like you put out a plate of nachos.

My motives aren’t so pure. With me, everything’s got to be edifying. I can’t just put on what you already like. As a matter of fact, I probably don’t have it. I’ve heard it too many times already, and probably don’t like it nearly as much as you do anyway. So what do I do? I put on something that I like that I’m just sure you’ll like, too - because I’m good like that.

When I do it to you, sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. Or should I say, sometimes it works. Three examples that come to mind:

The Chills “Submarine Bells”

Badly Drawn Boy “Hour of the Bewilderbeast”

Sufjan Stevens “Illinois

All of these got very positive reactions, and it’s easy to understand why. They are very melodic, with pleasing, but non-abrasive textures. You can have dinner to them.

Some of my other attempts have not been so successful:

Nico (Eva Braun singing Jackson Browne)

Pere Ubu (Nico, during the fall of Berlin)

Captain Beefheart (words fail me).

I resigned myself (around the time of my wedding) not to play these records around guests anymore.

And I now know not to put on a brand new CD (Jonathan Richmond’s “Jonathan Sings!”) on when people are helping you out with painting or moving. This is definitely one of those occasions when you just have to turn over control of the stereo to them - especially if it’s me.

If you’re having a party, you can tell people to put on whatever they like (although I’d sooner they helped me with the barbequing), but just so they don’t actually take you up on it, make sure you’ve got the CD changer filled and playing, and keep plying them with another beer.



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Now playing: The Chills - Heavenly Pop Hit
via FoxyTunes



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Now playing: Badly Drawn Boy - The Shining
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Now playing: Sufjan Stevens - Casimir Pulaski Day
via FoxyTunes