Somersaults – deathcrash

Sometimes, the bands I know nothing about wind up being more exciting than those I highly anticipate. This is just a gem of a slow-core record, heavy but with a strong hint of lo-fi. The title track in particular sticks out as one I will be belting out on a nighttime drive at least once this year. I will need to spend more time with the lyrics, but I already feel the emotional pull after only a handful of listens. It’s already on my list to revisit for the year, which makes four albums in two months, already outpacing last year.

Cupid & Psyche 85 – Scritti Politti

The 80s are probably my least-versed decade in music, and I definitely made my share of uneducated comments about the common music styles way back in high school, but I’ve grown since then. I now have an appreciation for and understanding of the broader 80s pop scene, and this week’s listen, courtesy of Pitchfork’s weekly Sunday Review, fits squarely into that sentiment. I feel particularly indebted to the review for highlighting the other musical influences heard in this record. The reggae is immediately obvious, of course, but I had forgotten Scritti Politti was rooted in punk. I read Rip It Up and Start Again, but not since grad school. Going back and checking out some of their earlier punk tracks gave a greater context to this record. At times sounding like Prince (though I would never go that far!), this is a perfect example of highly-produced electro-pop that defined the decade. I likely would have been turned off by this in high school, and I would have been wrong.

COLD 2 THE TOUCH – Angel Du$t

After being slightly disappointed with the last Angel Du$t album (but loving those before that), I didn’t know what to expect here. I should have set my hopes somewhat high, though. “The Beat” was my first- or second-favorite song of 2025, easily one of my most played, and the experience of seeing it live landed perfectly. This album is tremendous. At 26 minutes, it’s their most compact release in ten years, but they pack in so much. The linchpin of the whole thing is near the midpoint, the song “DU$T” begins with an acoustic ballad before violently shifting into a breakdown eighty seconds into the song. This is a showcase of their immense range. Closing with the aforementioned “The Beat” was an unexpected choice, when I first read the track list, but it made sense in practice. It makes me think of walking out into the parking lot, among a dispersing crowd, and wandering back to my car after seeing a transcendent show. Two disparate thoughts, I wish the album continued on from there, but also, it’s perfect that it doesn’t.

Ignore the Ignorant - The Cribs

Another day, another Cribs album. This continues the upward trend for me of enjoyable listens, particularly from a distinctive era of 2000s British indie rock. I believe this might be the only album featuring Johnny Marr, and my goodness, it shows. In fact, I thought I picked up some Modest Mouse influence before I read that he was involved in this particular record. I really appreciate the way they slide in some longer songs amidst shorter ones, in a way that contributes to that art-y new wave atmosphere. There was a notable shift between the second and third record, and this fourth one builds on the previous, even if I didn’t get quite the same level of excitement out of it. Of course, I realize this is a disadvantageous way to go about listening to a band, doing a mostly passive cursory once-over through a complete discography, but it’s the way I do things. The immersion is making me eager to start over again and do some more closer listens, so there’s that.

Singin’ to an Empty Chair – Ratboys

Ratboys are from Chicago, but their sound should be able to confirm they are from the Midwest long before you know that detail. This band fits squarely into that alt-Americana of Big Thief and Waxahatchee, and not simply because all are fronted by female vocalists. I realize they are roughly contemporary with those other acts, but it is surprising they don’t get the same level of attention. This is a stellar follow up to their previous record, The Window, which felt like something was beginning to break through at the time. As a continuation, I hope this album elevates their progress even further. They are seemingly able to write simultaneously joyous pop pieces that feel breezy as well as longer epics that feel all-encompassing, and it changes from song to song. In fact, some of the more anthemic pieces are worth belting out. The music feels somehow both modern and timeless, but all songs are endlessly pleasant. Easily the first contender for my annual best of the year list.

Behind the Magnolia Curtain – Tav Falco’s Panther Burns

There are two types of Pitchfork Sunday Reviews: those that provide context for an already-known record and those which introduce a never-known one. In either case, there is a reason this has been part of my required weekly reading (and subsequent listening) for years now. This week’s review was an example of the latter, introducing a new-to-me album, a 1980s garage blues rock album reminiscent of rock and roll from thirty years prior. On my initial pass, I wasn’t a huge fan. The record was competent at making me consider classic rock and roll—Buddy Holly, Link Wray, Bill Haley—but ultimately, I would have rather listened to any of those artists instead. Musically, there were a few tracks which impressed me, but the vocals took me out of the experience, and I found myself wishing for more of the dirty, fuzzed out instrumentals. As an experiment in nostalgia, I found it interesting, but the novelty wore thin after some time. I fully admit, however, that I have basically no exposure to the source material of Memphis rockabilly referenced in the initial article, so I can't hold my own lack of nostalgia against the music. I will probably take songs from this record in doses, but I don’t see myself returning to the album as a whole in the near future.

Men’s Needs, Women’s Needs, Whatever – The Cribs

I’ve been meaning to check out this band knowing Jeff Rosenstock name-checked them in one of his best songs. Anything Jeff endorses is good enough for me. As I do with such things, I work through in chronological order, so this is the third record of theirs I’ve listened to this week. This approach is proving to work for me, because each album is growing on me, naturally as the band’s sound evolves. I got the sense this was the big release for this band, so I was eager to get to it. It is the first one that has made me want to dive back in for another listen. I have to say, it sounds very “of its era,” but I mean that as a compliment. Thinking about the other records coming from the UK in the mid-00s, this feels perfectly in place. I’m still not ready to claim fandom for the group, but I haven’t hit anything that’s made me want to quit either. Incidentally, this is the first album of theirs where I can really hear a sense of the Rosenstock sound coming through.

URGH – Mandy, Indiana

I’m still quite mystified by the naming conventions of this band. How does a group from the UK land on my home state as their calling card? I suppose it is pleasant to say aloud, but it is an otherwise unremarkable place. That said, I wish the music spoke to me more than the name did. This is not the first album of theirs I’ve listened to; listening to the weekly Stereogum recommendation is part of my weekly routine, and I suspect that’s where I picked up the last one too. I can do some electronic and some glitch and some weird, but taken as a whole, the style is just not for me. It is hard for me to put myself in the mindset where I would be craving it. Far and away, my favorite bit is the Billy Woods feature. And the album cover! Honestly, its chaos perfectly suits the music, and I can get behind that.

Album Review: Jeff Rosenstock - POST-

Before I even put on Jeff Rosenstock’s new album, I wondered what the title meant. Because I had done no research, simply picking it up after a favorable review, I presumed the title POST- had something to do with genre. Typically in music (or any art form, for that matter), “post-” refers to a stylistic shift. I wondered if that was the case here, if the album was a departure from the artist's previous work. It did not really matter though, considering I was also unfamiliar with the artist. To be fair, I never do much research on music before I listen to it.

At any rate, since I had no expectations, I was pleasantly surprised when the album blew me away. My theory about genre shift was partly correct. Bookended by a 7- and an 11-minute song, the album accomplishes a variety of styles. Furthermore, each of the styles function incredibly well in their moment. Every song is given a chance to breathe. From the anthemic opener to the melodic close, the album resonated with me, fairly immediately and constantly.

Although musical styles evolve during the album’s run, each song has a personability which remains throughout. Even the most raw songs are endearing, as if Rosenstock is presenting a gift. The energy is both simplistic and brilliant. And despite the repeating oppressive nature of the words, there is a sense of hopefulness nothing short triumphant.

The best art comes from turbulent eras, and POST- feels very much a part of its time. The opening track is an angry, resilient yelling match about the state of life, appropriately titled “USA.” This bleeds directly into an equally angry, yet equally resilient “Yr Throat.” The finale reassures us that we will do anything but “Let Them Win.” (You can fill in your personal ‘them.’) All of this should come as no surprise in 2018. In fact, it becomes more difficult not to listen to the music without the lens of time and place.

Only a couple listens of this new album were enough to make me go back to his older material. With POST-, I found, Rosenstock doesn't really do anything new. I know this sounds like an indictment, but it's not meant to be. Instead, what I mean is that there is a melding of a variety of different sources. These sources are evident throughout the record. There are echoes of Weezer, shades of Titus Andronicus, even bits of DIY punk. In effect, I think this is why the album appeals so much to me. Is nostalgia enough to win over an album? Can you even call it "nostalgia" if it is for something you have never before experienced? Over the course of 40 minutes, POST- effortlessly manages to transport me to different eras of my musical tastes. It would not sound out of place to me in high school or in college. It is certainly not out of place for me now.

Superb-organism

I am typically an album listener. Some people are songs-first, then explore the album. It’s just a personal preference, but more often when I listen to a band, it is usually because I had heard of an album and wanted to check it out. I know it is uncommon; most people hit on songs on the radio and then turn to the albums for more. I mean, this is the purpose of the radio single. This is why it was unusual for me to learn of this group who, to my knowledge, has only put out three individual songs.

The band is called Superorganism, and before you try to do a search, believe me, it is not easy to come up with information on them. I have seen this sentence quoted several different times online, so I will do the same here: “Superorganism are a new group made up of a 17-year-old Japanese girl named Orono who lives in Maine and 7 other people who live in London.”

Now, since the band’s auspicious debut, this has proved mostly an in-joke. Much more information is available, and it seems the band just may prefer to occupy this mysterious status. Sort of, the less information I know about the band, the more intriguing the songs become. Most of the articles I tracked down (there are, like, three) seem to echo the same thoughts: this nebulous group puts out some addicting songs. That much we do know.

I love all three songs and have continually rotated them. I really can’t decide which is my favorite; all three have spent some time as that designation at one point or another. I enjoy them so much, I have tried them in every possible order (6 combinations) to see what works best for me. I suppose one upshot to take is that this exploration can be more rewarding than listening to an order set by an album. ANYWAY, naturally, I have thoughts on all three:

“It’s All Good” Of the three songs, this is the one that sounds like it would be the most likely to be on the radio. It has all the qualities of a pop song that appeals to a mass audience. This may sound demeaning, but it’s not meant to be. I only mean that it would be easy to rope in the widest array of listeners with this track, more so than with the others. Complete with what sounds like a full chorus and about twenty different instruments, the song is so happy, it’s impossible to listen to once.

“Nobody Cares” This is the one that I find running through my head hours or days after listening to it. This does not necessarily mean it’s my favorite, but its jaunty pace gets inducted in my head more often than I care to admit. Like the predecessor, happiness oozes from this song. Of all three, this is also the one where you should track down the video. It’s as trippy as it is joyous.

“Something for Your M.I.N.D.” To my mind, this is the crown jewel of the three. Without question, this is the most infectious song I have heard in 2017. As with any good thing, my discovery of the songs has a story. I missed finding them when they first hit the Internet big in the early spring. Instead, I found out about them five months later on a music blog. When I went to find the song I had missed, however, it was nowhere to be found. The Spotify entry was present but not active. The YouTube video was fuzzy with a dead link. I even checked the wild--SoundCloud--and the band's page was empty. Not being able to find it nagged at me, and I was reluctant to let it go. It didn't help that any article I found about the song could not write about it without talking how addicting it was. So, over the course of a few months, I searched for it from time to time to see if there was any new information. This song was taking on mythical qualities. When I finally found it, I was hooked almost instantly. The electronic beat pulses throughout and seems to feel better on each listen. Needless to say, the payoff was unbelievably sweet.

It sounds like a cliche, but I really cannot wait to see what’s next for this band. I’m hoping for the album, of course, (currently rumored for early 2018) but at this point I would take just one more song as fantastic as these first three. They are currently touring with about a half dozen other songs which, if they have been released, are tucked away on some corner of the Internet I haven’t found as of the time of this writing. I honestly cannot remember the last time I was this excited about a new band. Take the nine minutes and fifty-three seconds to listen to these three songs, and then join me in anticipating what is to come.

A Supersaturation of Kendrick Lamar

Kendrick Lamar will be remembered as one the finest rappers of this decade. Since his breakthrough album in 2012, good kid, m.A.A.d city, seemingly everything he's touched has been golden. Good thing, too, because he has touched a lot of music since then.

In 2015, Lamar released the hugely anticipated follow-up third¹ album, To Pimp a Butterfly, which many (myself, not included) believe to be his opus. One year later, he released untitled unmastered, a collection of tracks that were great despite being, well, untitled and unmastered. As it were, the album was met with an appreciative surprise from the collective music world. One more year after that, Lamar was back with another album, DAMN, his third in three years. Personally, I thought it was his best since gkmc, but some reviewers have been less forgiving, claiming he may not be as fresh as he used to be. On top of all the full-lengths, he's been featured on numerous tracks.

As I write this, I am playing Vince Staples' excellent Big Fish Theory, on which Lamar has a featured guest spot. And this is far from his first feature of the year. Earlier today, I heard a Future remix with him as well. In fact, it is more surprising when a major hip-hop album does not feature Lamar in some way. I'm probably being hyperbolic here, but the amount of times he has been a featured artist is almost shocking. Just looking over the Wikipedia list for his guest appearances is enough to remind me of a half-dozen albums I had already forgotten he was on. He transcends other genres too, not just hip-hop. He was in songs with The Lonely Island, Imagine Dragons, Taylor Swift, and Maroon 5, not to mention the copious rap tracks. All of this prominence reminds me of another artist of the last decade: Lil Wayne.

In 2008, Lil Wayne released his last truly great album, Tha Carter III, after a consistently solid ten years. The new album was monumentally successful: it sold a ton AND it was really good. He put out three albums in the next 18 months, none of which attained the same quality as III. Over that same period his already-prolific guest features list increased by the dozens². Waves of mediocre songs peppered in with some good ones, and before too long, Wayne was tired and overplayed. Let me reiterate: Lil Wayne was at the top of hip-hop in the late 2000s (with good reason), and within three years he was basically done. He has continued to put out records and singles, but his best years were inarguably behind him.

Of course, Wayne had some personal issues that hastened his decline, issues Kendrick has not had to deal with (read: prison), so I don’t think Lamar should expect the same floor. And I get it, unlike other genres of music, the high points in a rapper's career are relatively short-lived. For the most part, older rappers can't compete with or move out of the way for younger up-and-comers. But Lil Wayne's career was something else, with some of the highest highs and lowest lows³. Both Lil Wayne and Kendrick Lamar are immensely talented, and both have had some fantastic albums and dozens (hundreds?) of guest appearances. I would like for the similarities to end there.

Don't get me wrong: I am not at the point of saying Lamar is already making bad verses, or that I don't still like hearing his tracks⁴. All I am saying is that there is slowly rising cause for concern. Maybe my complaints are petty, but he's just not surprising to me anymore. We are at serious risk of Kendrick Lamar over-saturation. He is one of the most versatile rappers working today, but that does not mean I need to hear him in every other major rap release. Instead, I would rather absorb his existing music for the time being without being hit with something else.

---

1 Yes, third album. His first album, Section.80, went virtually undiscovered until gkmc blew up and retroactively elevated it. Same goes for his solid mixtapes.^↩
2 Again, look at a Wikipedia list to see what I'm talking about. You'll be amazed.^↩
3 For the record, I would love a Lil Wayne renaissance with one, final, stupendous album.^↩
4 I'm serious here: I could name half a dozen tracks where his feature is the best part in the song. When I put on an album for the first time, and I see he's on it, I look forward to his track, eager to see how he sounds.^↩

Best Thing I Did Last Week: Listen to Tonstartssbandht

The first step is learning to pronounce their name. When you see a name like Tonstartssbandht, it makes you think. Is this Swedish death metal? Some sort of German electronica? No, they are just two brothers from Florida who make exceptional rock music. And luckily, they have posted a pronunciation on their Bandcamp page. (It's TAHN-starts-bandit, by the way).

It should really be mentioned here and now that Bandcamp is a wonderful place to find music on the Internet. It is a place for artists to post and sell digital music directly to an audience. Because there is little attention and publication given to such releases, one can often find hidden gems of amazing quality for little to no cost.

The next piece of information about Tonstartssbandht you will find after spending a few seconds on their page is that they are prolific musicians. I only learned about them from their most recent release, but sifting through their older music reveals sixteen other distinct releases dating back to 2008. Imagine my delight in learning that there are another hundred songs to go through.

At any rate, their latest release, Sorcerer, came to my attention a few weeks ago, and it has been playing fairly consistently since I first heard it. There are only three songs on the album, but at 34 minutes, there is a lot to unpack.

The music itself is rather minimalist. Without doing any research on the band, the music feels like there are several potential possibilities. Either all of the instrumentals, vocals, and so on are done by one person and then intricately laid together, or each piece of the music is done by a group that is perfectly in sync. In reality, the sound is created by just the two brothers, which makes the sound all the more impressive, to my mind.

Sorcerer is the kind of album where any song (of the three) has the chance to be your favorite, and that choice could change at each listen. The music is diverse enough that a single genre is not enough to describe accurately the album as a whole. Instead, each song works as a 10 minute movement, sometimes acoustic, sometimes psychedelic, sometimes classic, sometimes modern. It is an album that demands to be listened to several times over, making new discoveries along the way.

For this reason, it is not easy to recommend the album in a conventional sense, as in “If you like this, try that.” You can hear roots from so many different eras of music. Their sound can be all over the place, while still being firmly situated in established independent rock music. If that appeals to you, Tonstartssbandht’s Sorcerer is totally worth checking out. Surely, you will find something great in this brief, yet impactful album.

Marcy Playground vs. The World

Every few months or so, I fix a drink and (only half-) jokingly posit the argument that Marcy Playground’s self-titled debut album is better than anything Nirvana ever recorded. Now I realize this argument has obvious flaws and does not hold up to many serious (or even casual) listeners. I am merely making the statement because it always leads to an amusing, albeit intense, discussion which I am more than happy to instigate. Ultimately, I have no problems conceding that Nirvana is the better band; but at its best, Marcy Playground is honorably reminiscent of Nirvana, and there is nothing cheap about it.

Nirvana has been and forever will be remembered as the face of grunge. Supposing a casual listener was asked to imagine a grunge group from the 1990s, most would probably picture Nirvana. Certain rock groups like Mudhoney in the mid-80s had more to do with its inception, surely, but the rock band from Aberdeen brought grunge into mainstream popularity. And Nirvana was at the forefront of this scene, inspiring countless rock musicians after them. Marcy Playground was one of these groups inspired by the grunge wave.

With the tragic suicide of Kurt Cobain, the band ceased making music and remaining members pursued different projects. This shift marked the end of grunge as the most popular form of rock music in America. I’ve often thought Cobain single-handedly brought about this change. Britpop bands such as Blur and Oasis rose in popularity, pushing the harder grunge out of the limelight. On the other side of the country, roughly two years after the death of Cobain, Marcy Playground became a part of this tail end of grunge and the beginning of the new, post-grunge.

Marcy Playground may have enjoyed a longer career than Nirvana, but they have received far less notoriety in the world of music. For whatever reason, Marcy’s fame has been largely reduced to a single. Back to the original argument, however, Marcy Playground’s 1997 debut album, taken as a whole, is a near-perfect example of rock music from the 1990s. Of course, its legacy does not compete with, say, a 10x Platinum selling album like Nevermind, but it definitely deserves to be discussed in the history of rock in the 1990s. At the very least, it deserves better acclaim than it has received. It should be remembered as a suitable tribute to Nevermind. Even looking at the track-listing shows that Marcy owes something to Nirvana and are paying it back with this album. So, I am not comparing the two albums directly to decide which is better; instead, there are multiple occasions in which Marcy Playground can be depicted accurately as a proper tribute to Nevermind. And to me, the two complement each other in such a way that makes them equally important. They should come up in the same conversation. This can best be observed by listening to the albums side-by-side:

*     *     *

“Smells Like Teen Spirit” and “Poppies” Little more can be said of Nirvana’s explosive opener to Nevermind that has not already been said. The first several chords are unforgettable. Cobain’s wailing, nearly unintelligible lyrics haunt the entire song. Complete with heavy riffs and watery bridges, the song serves as a perfect opener for a strong album. There’s a reason it is VH1’s best song of the 1990s. It is (rightfully) the first song most people think of when they think of Nirvana. The allure of “Teen Spirit” is aggressive for five full minutes, as Cobain dares you to participate in the anarchy of punk rock. Instead of being frightening, however, the power of the song is welcoming, even addicting. In short, the song serves a dual purpose: it is catchy enough to ensnare casual listeners and raw enough to reach fans of heavier music. It is Cobain’s “ultimate pop song” and it is an incredible beginning to the sounds of Nevermind.
     In sharp contrast, “Poppies” is just that--poppy. It is a short song with bouncy guitar and lyrics that just carries with it a good mood. Indeed, the song is catchy enough that it sounds like a radio single. Yet, underneath this fluff, there lies power chords that clearly demonstrates the influences of Nirvana and the rest of the grunge movement. Interestingly, the upbeat pace of the music is juxtaposed with fairly dark lyrics. The song tells a loose story of the influx of opium from China in the early part of the 20th century. Considering the possibility, even probability, that this album is a tribute to Nevermind, these lyrics are the first of many allusions to Nirvana in the form of Cobain’s battle with heroin addiction. All in all, “Poppies” is a short opener on a short album and it sets the tone nicely for the rest of the tracks.

“In Bloom” and “Sex and Candy” “In Bloom” rocks hard. It is the heaviest song on the album, and, as a result, it reasonably bridges the gap from 1980s metal to 1990s grunge. As the final tones of “Teen Spirit” drone out, the opening chords of “In Bloom” take over the listening space. Dave Grohl’s drums guide the song into the lilting, powerful verses. In fact, there is not a song on this album that more clearly exhibits Grohl’s drumming talent. Many moments in this song hang directly upon Grohl’s ability to carry a measure with a seemingly effortless drum fill. The lyrics, somewhat sardonically, are meant to reveal to listeners that Nirvana is more than just a pop act. Sure, the songs are catchy, but therein lies a deeper meaning, one that the average listener might not “know what it means.” Furthermore, a bridge towards the end of the song displays the pedal-driven, distorted, and woozy sound that was emblematic of a time period which included shoegazing acts. “In Bloom” successfully linked its metal audiences with popular music of the time. If “Teen Spirit” was enough to grab listeners, “In Bloom” subsequently kept them excited.
     “Sex and Candy” is, as everyone probably knows, the song that gives relevance to Marcy Playground. Charting at number one for fifteen weeks, it was by far the band’s most successful single from the album. It has maintained a moderate level of popularity, even appearing at #73 on VH1’s (highly) subjective list of 100 songs of the 1990s. And it truly is an enjoyable song. It is short and sweet (no pun intended) and to the point. Some of the lyrics may be corny, to be sure, but compared to some other lyrics of the decade, these fit in nicely. Stripped down, the song portrays a possible romantic affair between the band’s lead singer and an attractive girl who is apparently soaked in various sweets. The video is no help either. All I can gather is that the lead singer is nonplussed by large spiders. But the melody is bouncy, and the lyrics are mellow, making it an altogether catchy tune. The unfortunate fact remains, however, that this is the only remembrance of an otherwise forgotten band.

“Come as You Are” and “Ancient Walls of Flowers” At first, “Come as You Are” sounds a bit like a departure from the first two songs on the album. Sure, the chorus creates a headbanging attitude, and the guitar solo, one of the longest you will find in any Nirvana song, is distorted just enough. Coming off the heels of “In Bloom,” however, this song elaborates on another side of Nirvana, a mellowness we have not yet seen in the first ten minutes of the album. The tempo is quick and upbeat, but a smooth, pervasive guitar riff from Cobain carries on throughout, consistently grounding the song. Chronologically, it was the second single from Nevermind, and it charted well, showing a diversion from hard rock. Three years later, “Come as You Are” appeared on their MTV Unplugged in New York live album as the most well-known song in the collection. Because of the acoustic setting, the song fits in easily, where other, harder songs might not have.
     From the beginning, “Ancient Walls of Flowers” sounds noticeably different as well. An acoustic guitar picks up a slow groove. Drums come in subtly after a few seconds and it begins to feel like a true blues song. Once again, I have no idea what the lyrics mean (not at all uncommon on this album), but I am forced to presume that substances are involved, causing the vocalist to “mess his mind inside.” That said, the song sounds very comfortable and laid back. The folky blues tones are very refreshing; the acoustic solo near the end of the song is incredibly appropriate. Not overdone and complex, the solo represents a minimalist tone that is common throughout the album.

“Breed” and “Saint Joe on the School Bus” About this time into Nevermind, I am always struck by the significance of the album’s iconic cover. As I’m sure you’re aware, the cover depicts a nude baby swimming after a dollar bill on a fishhook. Without fail, a half minute into “Breed,” I realize that this album sounds as though it is being dragged through water. Not in a literal sense, of course, but the compressed tones and controlled reverb acts in such a way that creates in my imagination sounds from the bottom of a pool. Masterful producer Butch Vig mastered this album unlike any other hard rock album. Cobain himself called the recording “perfect.” “Breed” is the perfect example of this production value. Following the coolness of “Come as You Are,” its edginess is amplified, but in no way does the transition seem abrupt. The heavily distorted flows right from the previous song like a crashing wave.
     “Saint Joe on the School Bus” was the second single from Marcy Playground and also the second most popular. Moderately conceptual, it tells the story of a young person who is antagonized about his poor family life. The is fairly obvious, especially considering the album jacket literally says, “This song is about being picked on.” Incidentally, it sounds like it would fit easily on an album like Nevermind. It is the heaviest, most grunge song on the album. Power chords cycle throughout the song on guitars that are distorted like a Nirvana track. Lead vocalist, John Wozniak, channels Kurt Cobain as he utters the chorus a few times over with a slight growl. It is a darker, more intense song, making it very different from the first few songs.

“Lithium” and “A Cloak of Elvenkind” Made apparent by the song’s title, “Lithium” is about drugs. Throughout the song, we hear the words of someone (though not necessarily Cobain) “in a daze” seeking normalcy, trying not to “crack.” The title is absolutely perfect. Lithium is a mood-normalizing drug, and the song works to convey this sense. The music makes the words seem accurately spoken by someone from a manic-depressive perspective. From the verses to the chorus, there is a constant swing from tranquil to intense. In fact, this tranquility is directly juxtaposed with the hard hitting “Breed,” establishing a diversity of sounds on the album as a whole. “Lithium” is probably the best song on this album and possibly the best song Nirvana has ever done.
     For the most part, I have tried to think about this collection of songs fairly objective. This is the only time during the overview for this album that I must think personally on a song. For some reason, inexplicable even to me, “A Cloak of Elvenkind” became my favorite song on this album upon first hearing it and remains so even today. It is a short song, not very complex, and largely forgettable. I cannot say I have a major affinity to Dungeons and Dragons, and the fantasy-like lyrics mean nothing to me. There is just something about this song that made me smile when I first heard it. There is a pleasantness about the transition from the verses to the chorus and back again, all while the main riff curls around the whole piece. It was not long before this surpassed “Sex and Candy” as my most listened to track on the album, and even now it makes me happy.

“Polly” and “Sherry Fraser” “Polly” is, without a doubt, the most laid-back song about kidnapping ever recorded. Whether or not the rumors are true that the titular subject of this song is a kidnap victim, the lyrics seem to point in that direction. Furthermore, Cobain sounds weak and even a little sad. It is a unique song, to say the least. There are absolutely no elements of the hard grunge of the rest of the album. Mostly, the song contains contains acoustic guitars and Cobain’s somber voice. Discounting whatever meaning the song may have, it is a soft, easy listen. And the song happens to provide one of my favorite moments on MTV Unplugged in New York: the band launches into “Polly” about midway through their set and the crowd is audibly excited. While the song is, of course, recognizable and on Nirvana’s most popular album, I’m convinced that the song provoked such a reaction because the audience thought they were getting “Lithium.” The first twelve seconds of each song are strikingly similar, and on an acoustic set, they would be nearly identical. Listen to it. You’ll see what I mean.
     The third single, “Sherry Fraser,” is written in the form of an open letter to its namesake, Sherry Fraser, a friend of the band and co-writer of the aforementioned “Ancient Walls of Flowers.” The references to Sherry are direct and personal. As a result, the song is very charming. Throughout the song there are appeals for her to “come back,” implying that she is deeply missed. There is a sense of true friendship lost and a desire to restore the relationship. I believe these emotions work on listeners as well. After several listens of the song, it conjures fond memories of friendships from my life. Sherry becomes a character who is a part of everyone’s past. As odd as it may sound, the song makes it possible, even plausible to fall in love with this girl named Sherry Fraser.

“Territorial Pissings” and “Gone Crazy” Side two of Nevermind begins with bassist Krist Novoselic yelling the chorus of a 1967 song by the Youngbloods. That is only the beginning of “Territorial Pissings,” the craziest song on the album. I say crazy, because it actually sounds dangerous, as in it could incite a riot. As Novoselic’s outburst fades out, Nirvana launches into a song that may as well be a speed metal anthem. The guitars are distorted to sound almost toneless. Grohl’s drumming is quick and incessant. All the while Cobain presses the need to “find a better way,” although we really do not have enough context to know what he is trying to do. It may only be slightly over two minutes, but no other song on the album is as hard-hitting and in-your-face as this song.
     Conversely, Marcy Playground’s second half begins with the infinitely relaxed song “Gone Crazy.” It concludes a trio of songs that sound equally light and happy. It sounds like you should hear this song on a beach covered by Jack Johnson. Again, the lyrics are difficult to follow, and I have no idea who or what the song is about, but nothing else in the song is complex. It is simply a sunny, carefree track. There are also some very cool fills from an acoustic bass guitar that are worth noticing. Although it is one of the more forgettable songs in the collection, it is exemplary of the album’s minimalist style.

“Drain You” and “Opium” “Drain You” is an intriguing song. At 3:43, it seems longer than it is because it is situated in the middle of three songs under two minutes. The lyrics sound convoluted, but according to Cobain, most were invented on the spot in the studio, which I find admirable. The verses and the chorus sound different enough to be parts of other songs mixed into one. But what makes the song most compelling is a full minute of a psychedelic interlude about two minutes into the song. This interlude is complete with grating guitar and odd screeching and hissing sounds that were made by, what else, but a toy rubber duck. It is this type of ingenuity that makes Nevermind a special album. Then, just as subtly as the interlude started, it blends seamlessly back into the chorus perfectly. This band was simply doing something right, combining woozy noise rock and heavy metal.
     Unsurprisingly, “Opium” sounds very drug fueled. It encompasses the highs (“so happy / I’m in heaven”) and lows (“the seizures come from opium”) that have become common to portrayed images of drug use. The song does such an effective job conveying the narcotics that at times Wozniak’s wailing lyrics are downright chilling. If the previous three songs were very light, this song begins a series of several dark and depressing songs. From a musical standpoint, this song also signals a shift to a heavier side to the album. For the first time in awhile, we hear full blasts from the guitar that dominate the space. I adhere to my thought that this album, particularly the latter half, is a sort of tribute to Nirvana. This is the second song title that alludes to heroin, which I think, by extension, refers to the sadness of losing a figure like Kurt Cobain.

“Lounge Act” and “One More Suicide” Truth be told, I’m not sure why this song is called “Lounge Act.” It is far from relaxed; instead, Cobain sounds vindictive and infuriated. His last verse is angry guttural screaming. One thing for sure about the song, though: the first ten seconds are great. It begins with Cobain softly moaning from the back of his throat. He sounds exhausted as if he is building himself up. Then Novoselic’s bass line slides in and, for a few seconds, his notes are the only sounds heard. Finally, drums and a fairly clean guitar kick in and the song takes off. For such a quick and angry song, it does not fail to sound intelligent.
     As the song title would suggest, “One More Suicide” continues a trend of some of the more depressing songs on this album. As a highlight, the track makes good use of extra instruments in this song. A cello features prominently throughout the song, notably at the bridge about ninety seconds into the song. The rest of the song, though, is pretty bleak. It is comparable to a ballad or an especially sad folk song. It tells the story of a character who kills himself and the effects on said character’s mother. The deeper meaning shows that the media, in this case the newspaper, trivializes such terrible tragedies by simplifying the headlines to just “One More Suicide.” I believe this is yet another expression of remembrance to Cobain. The main verses of the song sound like mourning, to be sure.

“Stay Away” and “Dog and His Master” “Stay Away” feeds directly off the rapid conclusion to “Lounge Act.” It is another song that hearkens back to Nirvana’s metal roots. Boiling drums open the song, and a quick bass line threads behind. Cobain screams constantly, imploring everyone to “stay away” from him. The final moments come crashing down, not unlike one of their famous set-smashing live performances. One facet that has always stuck out to me is that Cobain manages to fit in a defiant shout of “God is gay” as his last line. I still cannot decide if he is trying to squeeze in a quick political statement or merely seeking attention. Either way, the song thrashes for three quick minutes that pick up right where the previous song left off.
     When I listen to an album, I like to do it as a whole. Skipping songs seems to me an insult to the rest of the album. And although I speak glowingly about Marcy Playground, I just do not get this song, “Dog and His Master” and have no issue passing through it. Sure, it is nice and upbeat, but I find it pretty void of meaning. For one, the nonsensical lyrics mean nothing to me. Maybe it’s just me that doesn’t get the meaning. Then, there is that horrifying verse (“One little, two little, three little idiots...”) that I find frankly annoying. I’m sorry, but for such an otherwise stellar album, this song leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

“On a Plain” and “The Shadow of Seattle” “On a Plain” is one song that is seemingly all about drugs. There are some pretty terrifying lyrics where Cobain claims he is “so high that / I scratched ‘til I bled.” Aside from being a typical heroin infused rock song, it is bookended by some very cool moments. The introduction begins with about eight seconds of a noisy guitar riff and accompanying hand claps, before launching into the main part of the song. The final seconds fade out with Cobain’s cooing voice. Interestingly, his “oohing” had actually been there the whole chorus, but it only becomes eerily evident in the final seconds. The middle part three minutes of the song really aren’t bad either. Also worth checking out, is the Unplugged version of this song. It is very well done. For what it’s worth, the Unplugged version does a better job capturing the sadness of the song, but then again, sadness seems to be a theme throughout the complete set.
     Truthfully, my entire concept of Nirvana and Marcy Playground being somehow related hinges on this song alone. Even the title, “The Shadow of Seattle” seems to refer to the Marcy being shrouded by the image of Nirvana. From the beginning of the sound, it sounds like it could be a B-side from In Utero era Nirvana. The first chord progression is nearly exactly the same as the chord progression of “Teen Spirit.” At times, Wozniak’s lyrics sound like Cobain demos. But do not get the impression that this is a cheap knockoff of Nirvana. It is instead one of the coolest, most honest sounding songs of the collection. This could be the most underrated song on the album, but on an album this underrated, does that say anything? At any rate, let this song soak in; it is truly a highlight of the album.

“Something in the Way / Endless, Nameless” and “The Vampires of New York” The final song on Nevermind is surprising compared to the rest of the album. It is subdued, calm, and deeply introspective. It sounds as if Cobain could easily perform it by himself on an acoustic guitar. In fact, he was known to do this at least once. The chorus does not get much louder than the rest of the song; the vocals and even the drums are only slightly elevated above the rest of the song. The chorus also includes some very neat use of a cello. The cello is noticeable immediately because it adds a distinct sound that had not yet been heard on the album. Contrasted with the explosiveness of the beginning of the album, this subdued four minutes is a near perfect close to one of the finest albums of the decade.
     On some versions of the album, however, it is not the end of the album. After about ten minutes of silence after the end of “Something in the Way,” the grating sounds of “Endless, Nameless” come to the forefront. I distinctly remember jumping the first time I heard the pulsing of the song, having thought the album was over. Incidentally, the song’s title is probably the best name for an untitled hidden track at the end of an album given its function. I think either this or “Something” can be seen as the last song, because each provides a different conclusion to the collection as a whole. If you shut your CD player off after “Something,” you’re left with a slow and personal hymn. If you opt to wait the extra ten minutes, you will be jolted through six minutes of hard rock that has echoes of future scream metal. The song crashes to a halt as if another live set has been destroyed. It is jarring, of course, but it is definitively more Nirvana. The choice of which is the true ending to Nevermind is up to you, but remember, as Mr. Cobain aptly put it, “It’s better to burn out than to fade away.”
     I find “The Vampires of New York” to be a pretty good closer as well. It may require a few listens to sink in, but it does sound like an appropriate finale. It is a simple song that details presumed observances of degenerate citizens of New York City. Being that the band is actually from the city, I imagine there is some experience behind these lyrics. The lyrics are silly and meaningless in some parts, but it still seems like there is a personality behind the words. There is also a nice combination of clean guitar sounds in the verses and grungier guitar parts in the choruses, although the song is never heavy. The part that I find most endearing, though, is the final moments of the song. The song rounds a chorus and feels as if it is going to continue, but it comes quickly to an unexpected halt. The hurried ending leaves the listener wanting more, of both the song and the album. At least, that’s how I feel. In fact, I find the song hard to listen to only once. It is nothing if not enjoyable.

*     *     *

You may observe that, for the most part, I have nothing but good things to say about either one of these fine albums. I tried to overemphasize my praise while glossing over my qualms. This is because I truly do love both albums unequivocally. Also, here I have no reason to pick at faults. My purpose is not to establish which is better. The two really are not very comparable albums. While they share certain similar characteristics, they are barely of the same genre. But Nirvana’s influence on Marcy Playground is obvious, nonetheless. Because of this fact, I have always associated these two albums with each other.

Of course, it is fundamentally absurd to maintain the argument that Marcy Playground is better than Nirvana or any one of their albums. Nirvana’s oeuvre is simply too great: three terrific studio albums, an amazing back-catalog of tracks, and possibly the best live recording of the decade (1995’s MTV Unplugged in New York). Marcy Playground, on the other hand, has done little else of note besides their debut. Yet, Nirvana is immortalized and Marcy is forgotten. Why is this the case?

Since 1991, Nevermind has sold over ten million copies and was the number one selling album in the US for two weeks in 1992. Marcy Playground only sold one million copies and charted highest at #21. An obvious conclusion is that consumers no longer cared about grunge. Considering the strongest era of grunge faded out with the death of Kurt Cobain, Marcy may have been several years too late. Furthermore, since grunge had become less evident, Marcy was competing with different genres of alternative rock and, therefore, a variety of bands. Cobain was far more charismatic than Marcy frontman, John Wozniak, which probably attributed to the heightened popularity. All in all, Nirvana legitimized a genre of rock music which made them far more memorable over time.

Another distinction that highlights the two bands was the length of their respective careers. An important reason why Nirvana’s music is so remembered is that it is so limited. They made excellent music in a short period of time; they never had the chance to fade into the obscurity seen in Marcy Playground¹. Consumers of music consistently ask, “What have you done for me lately?” when there is only a finite amount of quality music a band can put out. Marcy Playground is still making music today and their debut, now over 15 years old, is slowly being buried. This is unfortunate, but true. Granted, I have not given the time to Marcy Playground’s later albums², but it pains me to still see new releases from them, considering they are so extremely under-publicized.

I’m not going to pretend that listening to Marcy Playground was this visceral experience that defined my understanding of music. I am also not going to say the same for Nevermind. I cannot remember anything special about the first time I listened to either album. I can say, however, that I will always juxtapose these albums when I hear the first chords “Smells Like Teen Spirit” or “Poppies.” These two albums are forever inseparable in my mind, intertwined with each other. I remember paying $12.99 for Nevermind from a Borders Bookstore; I remember paying $0.50 for Marcy Playground from a local pawn shop. I bought one (admittedly) for “Teen Spirit” and the other (admittedly) for “Sex and Candy.” I remember being pleasantly surprised listening through Marcy Playground and pleasantly un-surprised (possibly even a little disappointed) upon hearing Nevermind. This is, in truth, the root of my love for the former album. I went into Nevermind expecting to love every song on it, and my expectations were met. I went into Marcy Playground with no expectations at all and was shocked at what I found. I bought because it was only fifty cents and so I could put it into my CD player for “Sex and Candy.” It took me several listens of that song alone before I took the time to listen to the whole album, and it hooked me. Thankfully, it was only fifty cents or I might have missed it all together.

In the end, I know I will never convince anyone that Marcy Playground is better than Nirvana. And they’re really not. I love Nirvana (although I prefer and Bleach to Nevermind and Unplugged to both). I bring it up less as a serious statement and more as a way to get a conversation (or a rise) out of people. But, as long as some listeners take the time to try more than just the one song they heard on the jukebox at a bar from a CD called “Super Hits of the 90s,” I consider that a success. I promise it will be a worthwhile listen.

---

1 This is fairly commonplace in music. The Doors in 1971, Joy Division in 1980, or the Smiths in 1987 are three examples of bands whose limited collection makes them incredibly well-respected. Conversely, some respected bands, like the Rolling Stones, continue to make music for decades.^↩
2 Although, their third album has an unspeakably clever title: MP3. Honestly, I think that’s genius.^↩

Bob Dylan, Author

Earlier this week, Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. This was naturally a very controversial decision in the literary community. Dylan entered the nomination process with the low odds of winning--because of course you can bet on the Nobel Prize--set at 50 to 1. His mere appearance in the probabilities was considered laughable by most experts; however, Bob Dylan defied his slim odds. Now, many of those experts are not happy with the academy’s decision.

In the opinion of many, the selection of Bob Dylan gives short shrift to many equally qualified poets and novelists. The award is ostensibly intended for the person who contributes the most literary merit. As with most sides of our culture anymore, the award has become overly politicized, but the intention remains the same. At the very least, the Nobel Prize in Literature is representative of high-quality literature. So what is the issue with Dylan? Why are critics so up in arms about his qualifications?

The most obvious complaint is that Dylan is ‘just a musician.’ Some would say that he has no business being compared to the eminent authors of today, or (my favorite) that he should refuse the award in favor of someone more qualified. Ridiculous. In what world is writing music not considered literature? Sure, music may not be the traditional concept of a prosaic novel, but music is no different from poetry, in that it is lines of words assembled to tell a message. Moreover, music is typically performed; a musician performing at a coffee shop is hardly different from the poet who reads his or her work at the same coffee shop. The Prize has been awarded to people who produced more or less exclusively poetry. So until I hear a definition that clearly separates poetry from music, I refuse to accept that being a musician immediately disqualifies one for the award. Reducing to Bob Dylan to just a musician and claiming he is unworthy of the award is absurd.

The next, slightly more acceptable argument is that Bob Dylan’s quality of work is not on par with some of the other authors up for the award. The reason this argument is more acceptable is simple: it is perfectly fine not to like someone’s artistic output. But to claim that he does not deserve an award because his work is not appreciated is not a valid argument. For one, regardless of his style of music or his vocal talents, several of his songs became emblematic of specific times in our history as a country. Besides, this subjective nature arises with any and every award. There will be disagreements with any choice, but these do not invalidate the recipient. Was The Heist really the best rap album of 2014? Exactly.

Finally, we have the sheer length of Bob Dylan’s career. This is not so much an argument, inasmuch as there is not a lot of room for disagreement. He has been actively recording for music for an astounding fifty years. Half a century! Over the course of his career, he has put out at least three (probably more like six) of the most important albums in the history of American music. This is not really much of an overstatement, either. Few recording artists can demonstrate such a consistency of releases over such a long period of time.

This year’s Nobel Prize in Literature was unique. It is the equivalent of a particularly cinematic video game being considered for an Oscar (which I would also defend). The fact that this is the first time it has been awarded to a musician is special. But for the first choice of musicians, Bob Dylan is certainly an exceptional one.

The Good News of blink-182

I am a complete apologist for blink-182. In my eyes, they can do nothing wrong. I will listen to anything and everything they release--usually arguing for its worth. Here’s the thing, though: I know that they are just an average band to most people, all things considered. Some may not even consider blink-182 a great band in the canon of punk music. But that doesn’t matter to me. For better or for worse, barring some catastrophic stretch of bad albums, blink-182 will forever be my favorite band.

I realize that this sounds like a ridiculous, dumb claim, pure hyperbole, but I can’t help it. Believe me, I’ve thought it over, and it’s not as crazy as it scans. I’m not saying that they are the only band I will ever voluntarily listen to for the rest of my life. Sure, there will be long stretches of time when I will be obsessed with another band or even genre. But blink’s music will always be there for me when I return. And I always return. Typically right on schedule, around June.

Let’s get some things out of the way: first, they are an absurdly juvenile band, whose combination of bathroom humor and coarse language almost definitely does not hold up in comparison to today’s music. Admittedly, it would be daunting to decide today, right now, that you were going to get into blink. You would have to wade through a lot of childish humor that was genuinely fun when you were in junior high. But that’s not why I come back to blink-182.

Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, you already know some songs by blink-182. They are responsible for some colossal hits that really transcend punk music. Catchy beach songs that high school and college students will (probably?) play forever out of cars and dorm windows. Songs that are perfect for the summer, like “All the Small Things” and “First Date.” But along with the goofy tracks come the emotional ones, as in “Adam’s Song” and “Stay Together for the Kids.” Chances are, even if you haven’t been paying close attention to surf pop punk for the last twenty-five years, you know these and other songs from the Greatest Hits catalogue. As with any single, these songs are hugely important in initiating the uninitiated.

To answer the question about recommended listening to digest the band, I used to say that Enema of the State was their most popular album, Take Off Your Pants and Jacket was my favorite album, and their self-titled was technically their best album. This statement is, of course, pure nonsense. The fact is, I spent so much time with these albums that I have on blinders and cannot be trusted to recommend just any of their songs. I would love to spend some time going discussing every album (and truthfully, I considered it; I could probably spend a few hundred words on each one), but I decided against it. I will say, you can't go wrong with any album before their hiatus in 2005, and certainly the aforementioned three should not be passed up.

Now, in 2016, we arrive at their newest full-length, California. There are (valid) complaints to be made. It is the very first album to not feature Tom DeLonge--who makes up literally ⅓ of the band, and some would argue means a lot more to the band. Replaced by Alkaline Trio-frontman, Matt Skiba, DeLonge has left to pursue his own devices, which involve (as any blink-pessimist will gladly inform you) legitimately searching for extraterrestrial life. But here’s the thing: Skiba (and his other band for that matter) is actually a great musician. At times, of course it is very easy to miss DeLonge's voice. In fact, on my first listen-through, his absence was always in the back of my mind. But Skiba proves to a very apt replacement.

For what it’s worth, California is a really cool album. I’ve even been heard saying that it’s a perfect record (for them right now). That last bit is important: it’s perfect for them right now. Is it their best album? Far from it. It may not even be in my top five. But for what they are right now--a collection of forty-something pop musicians who rely on a lot of cheap juvenile jokes for popularity--this album sounds just right for the middle of their third decade. The music is still cool; the jokes are still there. They wear their influences on their sleeve. At times, they shred like an early Black Flag record; other times, they proudly showcase their self-proclaimed heroes, the Cure.

I love blink-182, but I can't convince you to love them. All I hope to do is raise some sort of appreciation for a band who is past their prime. They may make (admittedly) generic pop-punk music with crass jokes that are (definitely) less funny now than they were then. But there is something special about them. It's a mistake to take them too seriously, and when they take themselves too seriously is them at their weakest. On the other hand, there are some really terrific tracks on some really fantastic albums, and a lot of fun to be had along the way.

A Radiohead Retrospective

Radiohead never really ceases to surprise. Every time a new album surfaces, über-fans spend inordinate amounts of time dissecting each and every part of the album. Countless articles surface looking at what it is that makes the band so intriguing. They went from being a band who makes good music to a band who makes good music with a sense of the mystique. Even their ninth album, released early this month after only a few days notice, was a bit of a surprise to most fans despite years of anticipation. The coverage that the band receives around album release times is always a little overwhelming. Seemingly every music website has articles, interpretations, speculations, critiques, analyses, and investigations on any facet about the band and its music. It’s easy to observe it all and perceive it as overzealous.

The attention they receive, while obsessive and slightly overrated, is not entirely undeserved. They truly do make some really great music, but I can’t read every little piece that comes through about them. The attention always seems, to me at least, diametrically opposed to the intimate nature the music actually possesses. To be honest, Radiohead is one of my favorite bands. But as of this month, I had not seriously listened to them in over a year. I don’t feel the need to listen to them regularly; they are the perfect band to set aside for a long while before coming back to savor. As always happens when one of my favorite artists is releasing an album (I’ll be doing it in about a month with my favorite band of all time), I like to do a dive into their past releases just to get in the mood for a new one. So, here I wanted to jot down some of my thoughts on each of their albums as I listen to them. If not for any reason but to remind myself of how fantastic this band is during the next long stretch between listens.

Pablo Honey (1993) - The first album may very well be the most different sounding of all of their albums, which makes it a little hard to classify. There is more guitar work and standard “rock” sound than any of their albums. It sounds more in tune with their British contemporaries, Blur, Oasis, and Pulp. It’s also hard to miss the clear influence of the Smiths, which is never a bad thing. Favorite song: “Creep”; how couldn’t it be? Their single-most recognizable song holds up incredibly well, despite the band’s unwillingness to acknowledge its existence.

The Bends (1995) - I know it is the favorite pastime of Radiohead fans to list, argue, reorder lists, and argue some more about which is the band’s best album. Usually, it’s easy to claim the can’t-pick-only-one defense, but since I started listening to them, The Bends has unwaveringly been my top choice. It signifies the transition from the standard alt-Britpop sound to their more modern qualities. And the opening four tracks is one of my favorite series of songs on any album. Favorite song: “Just”; really tough choice here. I easily could have said two or three others, but this song (and its accompanying video) is simply amazing.

OK Computer (1997) - However you feel about the music website, Pitchfork Media, there is a quote about OK Computer that I always remember when I listen to this album. “I don't listen to OK Computer that much anymore, and occasionally I get the idea in my head that it must be overrated. Then I put it on again and realize that it's even better than I remember. I find new things to appreciate every time I listen.” I really don’t think there is a better way to describe this album. It is an efficient album, perfectly blending the titular computerized digital sound with the astounding presence of acoustic guitars. Seriously, it is easy to forget just how much acoustic guitar there is in this album. Favorite song: “No Surprises” AND “Lucky”; I’m sorry, I just can’t give credit to one without the other. Both are so full of emotion and complex, and they play next to each other so well.

Kid A (2000) - Kid A is a weird one, an album that I think may be slightly divisive in the Radiohead-fan community. I’ve read hyperbolic statements that this is the their best album and the best album of the 2000s and the best album of all time. I’ve also seen comments that it is overrated. Personally, I fall somewhere in the middle. It’s not my favorite album by them, but it’s certainly not overrated. For a follow-up to something like OK Computer, this album permanently changes the musical direction of the band for (I believe) the remainder of their output. Side note: one of my favorite writers, Chuck Klosterman, has this fascinating piece about how he thinks Kid A predicted the events of September 11, 2001. Very highly recommended. Favorite song: “Everything In Its Right Place”; no question here, this is actually my favorite Radiohead song of any album. With the proper headphones, the opening notes of the studio version are actually perfect. Also worth checking out is the live version from their 2001 live album I Might Be Wrong. The counted lead-in to the opening notes gives me chills every single time.

Amnesiac (2001) - An album is unofficially known as Kid B, the songs from the same time period as the previous album that go hand-in-hand and might as well be considered the second half of a double album. Honestly, it is hard to separate the two in my head, as to which track goes with which album. But there are some differences as well. Amnesiac loses a tad of the overall electronic feel that Kid A had, and returns to some more conventional guitar-driven songs. This album, perhaps more than any of the others, has the feeling of more of a collection of songs than an album as a whole. Fortunately, it is a collection of good songs. Favorite song: “I Might Be Wrong”; one of the band’s heaviest songs and the closest thing they come to playing a blues song.

Hail to the Thief (2003) - I’ve caught a lot of flack for thinking this is the band’s weakest album. It’s not that I think it’s bad by any stretch, but I do think it gets a little lost in its intended message at times, making it feel somewhat disjointed. Even looking at the tracklisting, there are quite a few songs that I simply cannot recall. That said, the highlights are very high. The opener is great, “Myxomatosis” hits so hard, and I always fall for the slow, plodding nature of “A Punch Up at a Wedding.” There are some really standout songs, to be sure, but I still rank it as my ninth favorite album. Favorite song: “There There”; from the way the drums work together to open the track to the guitar creeping its way in, this song is an excellent mid-album track.

In Rainbows (2007) - For awhile, I ruined this album for myself. The band released under a pay-what-you-want plan that meant you could download the tracks for $0, if you chose. I did choose this, as I had other things to buy when I was in high school. I ‘bought’ the album and listened to it for the first time late on the night I got it. For whatever reason, it was not a good first experience. I thought it was the end of the band, and I did not find myself returning to it for a few months. I think I was just too tired that first night. In any case, I’m glad I did eventually return though. Something came together for me, and I heard what I’d been missing. It is probably their finest album of the second half of their career. Favorite song: “House of Cards”; this was the one song that stuck with me from the very first time I heard it to the most recent. Close second is “Bodysnatchers,” tonally completely opposite, with a chord progression resembling an Iron Maiden song.

The King of Limbs (2011) - For me, this was the most anticipated Radiohead release. In college, I was surrounded by like-minded friends, all eagerly awaiting this album. From its announcement, it was the topic of discussion, and we could not wait to get a hold of the tracks to hear them. I was snatching up every bit of news I could get. My favorite rumor of the time, was that this was going to be the surprise first half of a two-part double album, a concept I’d still like to believe. In the end, the payoff was worth it. I listened on repeat when it was finally released. Although it has not proven to be the longest lasting album, slipping away somewhat into forgotten territory, at the time, I could not be happier with the album after all the time I had dedicated to waiting for it. Favorite song: “Separator”; I’m tempted to cheat again and use the last TWO songs, but I won’t. Seeing the second-to-last song was a great experience live, but the final song, “Separator” is a really strong album closer.

A Moon Shaped Pool (2016) - Now, this year, as I said, I was not following the rumor mill as closely as I had for the last release. I had a general idea of which songs to expect, but beyond that, I knew nothing else. I figured there would be a ramp up of anticipation online, and I would have time to consume the band and get in the mood for a new album. Not so. Announced and released in what seemed like a weekend, I was totally unprepared for it. Even after it was available for purchase, I was not ready for it. I still wanted to work my way into it, because as I said, I like to listen to the band’s previous albums first. Since high school, I never dreamed that a Radiohead album could come out and I would not listen to it immediately on the day it was available. So, what’s the consensus? I have to give it more time to see where it truly settles compared to the rest of the albums. Initially, I would say it’s a better-than-average Radiohead album--which is to say that it is better than I feel about a lot of new releases. Favorite song? I can’t quite tell yet. Time will tell what song or stretch of songs holds up for me.

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Along with each of their albums, I listened to the corresponding B-sides and unreleased tracks from each era. These can be found on the special collector’s editions of the first six albums. There is some suggestion that these were made against the wishes of the band by the owning record label as a way to turn more of a profit. Regardless, these collections are some of the finest released packages for fans of the band. One disc is the original album, another is bonus tracks, and a third is a DVD with music videos and live performances from the album’s release. They are ranked with the re-released first four Pavement albums, in terms of valuable supplementary content.

At any rate, in addition to the core albums, there some bonus tracks which should really be considered. The Bends-era, “Maquiladora,” almost feels like a math rock track at times, showcasing modern genius, Jonny Greenwood’s guitar work. “Talk Show Host,” also from The Bends was featured in Baz Luhrmann’s film adaptation, Romeo + Juliet, and it is one of the coolest parts of the movie. The haunting “Amazing Sounds of Orgy” from Amnesiac has had a resurgence as a live song lately. “I Am Citizen Insane,” which lends its name to a great online database of everything Radiohead-related, should have been on Hail to the Thief.

Probably, the fandom surrounding Radiohead has ballooned to be something greater than the band itself. Even as a fan of the band, it is easy to see the sheer number of online posts and discussions and become a bit jaded. I want to be both critical and defensive of Radiohead adoration, and it’s hard to have it both ways. In the end, though, I am happy that the band has had such a truly outstanding career.

There was a lot of goofy speculation that this is their last album based on vague lyrics in the newest album, which I find preposterous. I did, however, elect to think of this as a retrospective because I do actually think this could be Radiohead’s last album. It would be fitting if they called an end to a really excellent span, and honestly, I would love it if they closed on a good note. Overrated or not, I really don’t think they have put out a bad album. On the other hand, they could announce a free triple album next week. Nothing they do would surprise me anymore. I’ve been listening to Radiohead for quite awhile now, and I’ve enjoyed my time doing it.

On David Bowie

Losing David Bowie was tough. Just a cursory browse of the Internet in the days following the king of glam rock’s passing revealed this. So many rumors of his death and false obituaries over the past decade had made this seem like an impossibility. There was an outpouring of people expressing how difficult it is to lose him or how lucky we were to live through his creative output. Even now, weeks after his death, I can turn to a music website and see a new retrospective about his career. And you know what, regardless of how many I’ve already seen, I’ll probably read it. He truly was an incredible artist.

Because of all the existing eulogies, there’s nothing I can say that hasn’t already been said. Like most people, I spent the last few weeks consuming Bowie albums. The diversity from album to album is just astounding. Two albums from the same decade may not even sound like they were from the same person. Luckily for future generations of listeners, each iteration of Bowie has been influential on a different generation of artists, from grunge to electronic to punk and so on. What other artists have this same distinction? Sounding wholly different over their life, while still maintaining the quality of his music? That’s the bewildering part about David Bowie: his reinventions rarely sounded like missteps.

Take, for example, his 1971 album, Hunky Dory. This was an album, that could very nearly be considered folk rock, in a way that probably shaped part of Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks, especially after he called Dylan by name in one of the songs on the album. At the same time, it heralded some powerful anthem rock songs. In fact, few of his albums could be considered more diverse than this one. The very next year, he puts out Ziggy Stardust. As a space rock epic dripping with glam rock theatricality, it could not be more different from his previous album. This is one example of many where Bowie was simply light-years ahead of his time. Are we sure he was human?

The song, “Under Pressure,” is particularly special. When, in the history of music, have two more eccentric AND popular musicians performed together? The question is rhetorical; the answer is never. Queen’s Freddie Mercury--possibly the single most exciting performer ever--working with David Bowie is a musical team we will likely never see matched. Two icons in their showmanship as well as their sexuality, performing near the height of their careers. I can honestly not think of another combination of artists that would have been so impactful together¹. It is tragic that they never performed the song live together.

Bowie continued to surprise right up to his death. With his new album, Blackstar, he again sounded like a different person. I freely admit that the album as a whole will take some getting used to for me; I didn’t immediately take to it as others have. As with his earlier albums, it takes several listens to get accustomed to the sound he demonstrates. But there are certainly some individual tracks which stand out and highlight Bowie’s prowess as a songwriter.

It is interesting to mourn the loss of a person you have never met². Not wrong, of course, just a little absurd. Such is the personal nature of music that some musicians really do command that sense that you actually know the person. In this way, the death of musicians--especially those with long and full careers--can feel particularly shocking. Michael Jackson stunned the world a few years ago; more recently, Lou Reed had a similar effect on a lot of people, myself included³. It is only fitting that David Bowie, who had the capability to be shocking in his life, could shock people with his death. Take care, Starman.

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1 I’m not speaking hyperbolically here; the closest I can come is Jay-Z and Kanye working together, and even that doesn’t have the same level of importance.↩
2 Bowie’s death was also days before losing Alan Rickman. It’s been a hard month.↩
3 Lemmy died a month ago, and I just read that Glenn Frey passed away this week. Motörhead and Eagles fans can certainly relate.↩

Just Don't Call It a "Rock Opera"

I hate the term “rock opera.” Granted, I probably thought it was cool the first time I heard it, but it did not take long for the stupidity of the name to sink in. I mean, what does that name accomplish? It’s rock music, sure. So, because the songs have a related theme, it’s becomes an opera? The opera is not music’s equivalent to the short story collection. It simply does not make sense. And I try not to even think about the next iteration: the “hip-hopera.” Awful. Just awful. Call them by their more elegant names “concept albums,” please, regardless of how pretentious you will sound. Anyway, I hate the term as much as I love the thing itself. That’s right: I adore “concept albums.”

Even though most (if not all) concept albums come off as comical or mediocre, I find them immensely enjoyable. Music is not notoriously known for telling an engaging story, but just the hint of a deeper meaning is enough for me to listen that much more intently, to try to find that glimmer. And usually, as the story unfolds, I find myself thinking that the story would be barely passable in a movie or story. I always convince myself, though, that it works in this context. I give albums with a message the benefit of the doubt that I certainly don’t give to books. I think that’s what makes concept albums so interesting to me--I’m willing to fully buy into a story even if it is basically garbage.

Sometime, somewhere, a person was tired with making individual songs, so they focused on creating a story using the full hour of an album. It was probably Sinatra, so it was probably very good¹. This caught on, and now we have new concept albums fairly regularly. The unification of a collection that was formerly unrelated is the same reason I love short stories that function together. I cannot always defend the story itself, but the idea is an attractive one to me. Regardless of how ridiculous the message almost always turns out to be (usually involving an oppressed young person), I can make the excuse, “At least they are trying it.”

Personally, I get something more out of listening to an entire album as opposed to individual songs. There is something to be said about an artist establishing an order to which their songs should be listened. In most cases, an album just seems to be the proper way to listen to all of the songs. A concept album is the extended form of this, as the songs tell a story and need to be listened to in a set order. I’ll briefly go through some of the most famous examples, as well as some of my favorites.

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1969 - Probably the first and possibly the most famous concept album, The Who’s Tommy presents a deaf, dumb, and blind boy who grows up in the 1920s. Most people know of the character’s prowess as a pinball player, but the album goes into more of his experiences with his family, dealing with difficult topics such as abuse. The album is also The Who’s first foray into concept albums, as they returned to format in 1973 with Quadrophenia.

1979 - If not for Tommy, Pink Floyd’s The Wall would be unquestionably the most famous concept album, and it probably does the best job in storytelling. It tackles the emotional problems of the protagonist, Pink, in ways that some novels can’t approach. It was turned into a successful, albeit disturbing film three years later in 1982, and the show was still performed for decades by Roger Waters, who wrote the album. Like The Who, this is not Pink Floyd’s only example of a concept album, but it is certainly the most clear and the most profound.

1984 - I might be cheating here by using a soundtrack to a movie, but, honestly, Prince’s music of Purple Rain is the important part of the movie, not the story. And the music is really incredible, probably Prince’s best material. It may still be considered a concept album, in my opinion, because it does tell a ludicrous futuristic love story.

2000 - In what could be the very first “hip-hopera,” the rap supergroup consisting of Del the Funky Homosapien, Dan the Automator, and Kid Koala released the album, Deltron 3030. Set a millenia in the future, the rappers need battle dangerous robots in space. If it sounds ridiculous, it is. It’s also great. And there are some good messages and themes present as well.

2004 - I have an unreasonable love for Green Day’s American Idiot, and I would defend it as one of the band’s best albums. It is an album I can sing (and occasionally have sung) every word along with the band. The music is intense, and the lyrics have moments of brilliance, even if they beat the listener over the head in blatant political overtones. Even though I realize that the story isn’t great, I’ve been championing a movie since the album’s release. It came out at just the right time for me and will always be one of my favorites.

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There are several more I could have listed here that are just as good, but there are really too many to mention. It seems like albums that tell a story are becoming more and more prevalent. This is a cool thing. I realize the stories of concept albums can sometimes be lacking, and the music isn’t always great, but I am always excited about the possibilities. It just gives more of a reason to sit down with an album and have an experience. Just as the artist intended.

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1 In fact, some say In the Wee Small Hours was the first concept album. So, yeah, that’s a pretty high standard to meet.^↩

One Golden Album

I have strong reason to believe that the first album I ever heard was Gordon Lightfoot’s 1975 compilation album, Gord’s Gold. And that makes me very happy. According to my parents, around the time I was born, one of the only cassettes they played regularly was Gord’s Gold. If it was not the first album I ever heard (unlikely), then it is definitely the one I have listened to for the longest.

If I were to rank my favorite Canadian musical artists, I would be hard-pressed to come up with someone higher on my list than Gordon Lightfoot. Although I listen to them from time to time, I’m not the biggest fan of either Arcade Fire or Rush. For me, Gordon even leads Neil Young in the category of prolific Canadian folk artists. I just find Gordon Lightfoot to be incredibly authentic and all-around enjoyable. Unfortunately, he is often underrepresented in folk music discussions.

As with the most talented folk artists, Gordon Lightfoot has the ability to tell incredible stories with his songs. He ranges from heartbreaking to uplifting, but the captivating narratives always feel honest and true. Some of his very best stories are displayed on this collection¹. “Song for a Winter’s Night” makes the listener feel like riding through a snow-covered woods. The seven-minute epic “Canadian Railroad Trilogy” chronicles the history and importance of the railroad spreading across the continent. My personal favorite, “Steel Rail Blues,” tells the tragic tale of a person who cannot seem reconnect with his love.

Usually I’m not the biggest proponent of greatest hits albums. They may range from offensive to tolerable, and not worth owning on the whole. I feel that listening to individual tracks takes away from the overall listening experience, and often the so-called “greatest” tracks overshadow some truly great songs tucked away on a lesser-known album. But I thoroughly enjoy Gord’s Gold so much that it still gets fairly often airtime in my CD player. That is not to take anything away from his studio albums, which are very good. I just stick with what I know best, and Gordon’s hits collection is what I’ve grown up knowing.

I have bought this album five times on three different mediums--and every single one has suffered a tragic demise. Two cassettes unspooled, forever ruining one of my stereos. One CD that I purchased (new) has an unexplainable skip during “Minstrel of the Dawn.” The other CD had a staple through the disc that was intended to hold the liner notes together. And a groove on my LP version has an infinite loop on side B. It must be a sign, but it won’t stop me from picking up new copies.

For a greatest hits album, Gord’s Gold is remarkably thorough. The songs function as an album as a whole, rather than a collection of unrelated songs. This is due, in part, to the fact that many of the songs were re-recorded for the new release, so there is a level of consistency throughout the pieces. Released in 1975, the album encapsulates his early career, which is probably his best material. While a second volume of his greatest hits, released over a decade later, was hampered by some forgettable numbers, there is not a bad song on the first volume of Gord’s Gold.

As it is famously proclaimed on the front cover, this was a “2 record set on 1 specially-priced disc.” I think this is a telling description: the album is long without feeling tedious. It is over seventy minutes long, and it is the perfect type of anthology to put on for a stretch of time. I recommend tracking down the song “Affair on Eighth Avenue,” a song missing from the CD release, for the full experience. This is the kind of album where even shuffling for a dozen or so songs is a wonderful time.

One of my favorite memories from college was belting every word to Gord’s Gold late at night with a friend. I certainly don’t do that with many albums. That should be a clue of the power of the Canadian musical genius, Gordon Lightfoot.

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1 Perhaps Lightfoot’s best-known tale, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” is absent in this collection. It was released the next year.^↩

Doing Things for Free: Part 3

A lot of musicians complain very publicly about not receiving enough money for their work. Whether it is record companies or streaming services, artists claim they are not compensated enough. They make these claims loudly, looking for enough sympathy that consumers will buy their records from their own labels to maximize a profit. But for every artist demanding more money for their music, there are ten musicians who produce everything by themselves hoping for even a dozen people to hear what they’ve done. Even if they hear it for free.

This brings us finally to the interplay between producers and consumers of music. Like most content creators, musicians make music because it is a passion of theirs. This is as true for major musicians as it is for high schoolers playing in their garages. And anyone who is passionate about something wants to share it with others to spread their enjoyment. Luckily, there are places, again on the wonderful Internet that makes it possible to share and promote music for their audience.

SoundCloud is a community devoted to just this purpose--artists giving their music to any interested person. It benefits both artists by promoting and listeners by providing new tunes. Because SoundCloud is disconnected from most major labels, it hosts tracks to be played directly on the website, or in some cases, to be downloaded for personal playback. This is an ideal use for someone who does all of their own work independently and can just upload finished products immediately. Fans can interact with the music instantly, as well as browse and discover new interesting songs. Occasionally, even major established artists take advantage of this service to share new music before the major release of an album.

Bandcamp is a similar service in that it allows songwriters to upload tracks and even full albums for distribution to interested fans. People can stream music directly on the site or, as is more commonly the case, they can download individual tracks or albums. The site utilizes a “pay what you want” strategy, where users can give what they feel the music is worth or what they can afford to spend, even if that cost is nothing. This system allows artists to earn a bit of a profit, if they wish, while still being able to advertise their own creations. From a listener’s perspective, there are dozens of great artists ready to be discovered for no cost. Some fans even curate lists of the best music on the site that’s also available for free.

But not all artists who want to share their music happen to be small independent musicians using these aforementioned websites. English rock band Radiohead, famously released their album, In Rainbows, for any price, including $0. Just as famously (or perhaps infamously), U2 forced any iPhone user to have their album, Songs of Innocence, at no cost but without the user’s permission. Influential hard rock musician, Trent Reznor, has made use of public copyrighting known as Creative Commons licensing to release several albums for free. Numerous rap groups give songs away in the form of mixtapes. The list goes on and on.

Obviously, even well-known and critically acclaimed musicians care enough about their listeners to simply give their music away. Once again, the Internet provides several outlets where consumers can get what they are looking for from producers with a little searching and no cost. Most people can find places to stream music online or download it illegally, but there are many great places where music makers can interact directly with fans. After a bit of poking and prodding around different websites, it’s not hard to broaden one’s mind, for purposes of both entertainment and information.