AS MARIE PUSHED her way through the revolving glass door, she looked around in amazement. It was her first time in the EXO headquarters, and she looked up what seemed to be a mile to the skylight above. The warmth and natural light meant she no longer needed the jacket that protected her from the chill January air of Manhattan. She could see windowed offices with people busily working running the whole height of the tower. She was simply amazed.
EXO, as everyone knew, was one of the largest media conglomerates still in existence. It started as a television channel in the late twentieth century but had evolved--as most things do--into a multi-platform experience. Now, the television channel was dwarfed by the sheer amount of material in its name. More channels were added, divisions purchased, and content made. Soon, EXO had its hands in everything, from news to sports to original programming, and so on. Of course, a paranoia of Big Business surrounded EXO, but honestly, what sizable company could hope to escape such an inevitability in those times? Most of it was well made, after all. But today, Marie was here for one reason: the cooking department.
She walked her way up to a secretary whose face was illuminated by the blue of her computer screen. “Can I help you?” The secretary asked dourly.
“Yes, I’m here for Cooking?” Marie replied.
“37,” came the response, as the secretary barely took her eyes off the continual data she was entering to gesture towards an elevator growing ever crowded. Marie was unphased by her attitude.
She excused herself and headed towards the elevator, still mesmerized by the amount of people in the lobby. When she was finally wedged into the back of the vehicle, she contemplated the steps that led to this point as she ascended.
Marie was a vlogger. She made videos and posted them on YouTube. She shared them with friends and--while she hoped they enjoyed them--had no expectation that they would become popular, which they didn’t. She had no way of tracking how many people were actually viewing her videos (view counters can’t be trusted, you know), and she really couldn’t care less. She made videos for her own personal pleasure. Sometimes she reviewed a movie she saw, other times an album. She even dabbled a bit in sports. But her true passion was with cooking. She would share basic instructional videos of her tastiest concoctions on the sole hope that someone watching would get a kick out of the video and maybe try their hand at making.
After several years of consistent posting, she volunteered to post on a shared video channel specifically for cooking on YouTube. She wasn’t doing it for views or fame or anything of that nature. She just saw it as an opportunity to continue doing what she was doing, and more people with a shared interest could interact. It meant a little more work than she was used to, and her supervisor was a bit of a dope, but that didn’t matter to Marie. She had finished school, so she had the time to make an extra video here and there, and she got over her inane supervisor with some slight complaining. Now, she could certain cooking videos to this larger network, while keeping her personal video channel alive with other creations.
One afternoon, Marie was preparing to make another video. She knew she had included some information in a previous video that would be helpful to her and her viewers in this new one. So, needing to refer back, Marie did what any young adult would do to quickly retrieve information: she turned to Google. A quick query turned up not one of her videos, but several. There was hers, of course, but it was about halfway down the page. The first result was video with the same title posted by EXO Cooking, one of the many subdivisions of the enterprise. The second, third, fourth, and many others were repostings of the link from EXO. ‘Hmm,’ she pondered to herself. ‘What are the odds of my video sharing a title with this one?’
She opened the video and was shocked by the similarities. ‘This feels like something I made,’ she thought. ‘In fact, it is exactly what I made.’ Excitedly, she looked around for her name somewhere on the page, then tried a different link and then another. All of the videos had attribution to someone; yet none of them were Marie. It was difficult to categorize her thoughts at that moment. Sure, she was flattered that a huge corporation like EXO would showcase her ideas, but a little miffed that they didn’t give her any credit. She shared it with her friends, who reacted with the predictable combination of annoyance and amusement. Finally, she arrived at the decision. It couldn’t hurt to contact EXO.
After some digging on the nigh impenetrable website, she finally found a lone contact email address. With a carefully worded message, Marie explained that she was flattered to find her video on the EXO Cooking webpage but a little surprised not to find her information anywhere on the page. Doing her due diligence, Marie enclosed a link to her original post as well as the link to the EXO page. Satisfied with the missive, she clicked Send.
Three days passed and still she did not hear back from EXO. Not that she was shocked, it was a multi-million dollar entity after all. She continued to joke with her friends, and it ceased to bother her. Then one day, her phone gave an insignificant vibrate. Illuminating the screen she read the one-line message.
“Miss Swift- you are welcome to come on Boiling Point to dispute your claim.”
Boiling point was quickly becoming one of EXO’s flagship web-series. Marketed as the “Spiciest Seat in Cooking,” the premise was thus: two celebrity chefs, Debbie Falstaff and Katherine Jacobs, sit opposite each other and loudly yell about topics in the culinary world, making such extravagant claims as, “I’m telling you, if you ever use a spatula with an cast-iron pan, you’re doing it wrong!” and “It is simply impossible to cook anything with fewer than three whisks!” A diminutive man--Matthew or Marcus or something--sits between the two powerhouse women, futilely trying to keep them on topic. To tell the truth, Marie had never watched one of the shows; she always collapsed with laughter, pointing at the screen whenever she forgot to turn off autoplay and the program began.
Boiling Point seemed like such a sham, Marie had no problems agreeing to go on the show.
When she got off the elevator on the thirty-seventh floor, Marie was recognized immediately (from her video, she assumed) and hurried down the hallway to the dressing room. As her makeup was hastily applied, a haughty woman explained the rules to her: “We’ve received your complaint about… ah… the proper credit, and it will be disputed on this show. If you successfully pass the ten minute mark, you can have your credit.”
“That’s it?” questioned Marie.
“Don’t be so sure of yourself; these women are sharks.”
Marie stepped over to the studio, brightly lit and surrounded by gawking people. As it were, Marie only had to go up against Katherine Jacobs. Debbie Falstaff was out sick, or so an intern claimed. And the whole charade was, remarkably, very easy. The moderator, Marco (or whatever his name was) started off with a softball, “Marie, why are you here?”
Marie began, “Well, to get credit for --”
“The real problem with split pea soup, is that the peas are already split!” launched Katherine Jacobs. “If I’m making split pea soup, you’d better believe I’m splitting the peas myself!”
The woman was insatiable, jumping from point to point with no rhyme or reason. The boy--for he really was just a pawn in this game--ceased trying to steer the conversation and pulled out his iPhone. Clearly, he’d done this before. Marie sat back, halfheartedly trying to offer agreements or counter arguments. Jacobs went blithering on, growing more shrill and belligerent by the second.
“You got lucky,” the haughty woman barked after the show. “If Falstaff was here, you would have been crying.” Marie doubted this, as the intern inside had told her all of them turn out like this. If nothing else, the plagiarism, Boiling Point, and the whole experience made for a really dumb story for her friends.
Marie arrived home, opened her ancient laptop where she did most of her work, and navigated to the EXO YouTube channel. Finding her video, she opened it up and expanded the additional information below the window. There, in tiny print, was her Twitter handle, “@MarieSwift1991.” She closed the laptop lid and smiled. This was all she wanted.
Monday, January 23, 2017
Saturday, December 31, 2016
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.↩
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:
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“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.↩
Wednesday, November 30, 2016
Disaster Revisited
What novel would you believe the Huffington Post could call "possibly the most important piece of literature ever printed"? Ulysses? No. The Great Gatsby? No. Try The Disaster Artist, the story of the making of The Room, the infamously horrendous movie from Tommy Wiseau. I read it with an incoming appreciation for the film; never did I think I would enjoy the book as much as I did.
If you haven't already, go watch The Room, then probably watch it again, and then read the book. Because you are most likely going to want to watch it another time after that. The movie is phenomenal, and the book is a wonderful supplementary piece.
The first time I watched the movie was a special experience. I had known the infamy of the film, of course, and I found out it would be playing at midnight on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. Having never seen it before, I patiently stayed up for it, despite having class in the morning. I remember being a little worried that my roommate would return during this film and think I was watching something truly disturbing, thus ruining my first experience. As it turned out, he did not return in time for the end, and I was able to fully absorb The Room, as it came to its satisfying conclusion at 2:00am.
As it turns out, the movie is truly a special production. The story is ridiculous, seemingly not adhering to reality. It is more like a series of popular movie tropes jammed together in nonsensical ways. There is a love triangle between Tommy, his fiance, and his best friend, which awkwardly destroys the future marriage. There is a neighbor boy who looks up to Tommy as a pseudo-caretaker. There is a drug sequence. There is a suicide. Trust me, the movie has it all, even if it does none of it well.
The book, The Disaster Artist, chronicles the making of this movie, often called the worst movie of all time. But for as bad as the movie is, the book is really quite poignant. Author, Greg Sestero plays Mark, the aforementioned best friend who ruins Tommy’s marriage. Sestero also happens to be about the only human being to connect with Tommy Wiseau--the person, not the character. At times, the descriptions of the film production are hilarious, but they can also be heartwarming. It is a group of people following the lead of one man who spares no expense to make his dream come true.
If nothing else, it is a fascinating look at the Tommy, again, the person. In this age where as much as possible is known about celebrities, Tommy Wiseau leads what is truly a mysterious life. No one knows how much he is worth, despite his enormous bankroll for The Room. No one knows anything about his family life. No one, not even Sestero, knows even where Tommy was originally from (and his accent only adds to the intrigue).
Tommy has since made a TV series called Neighbors, equally uncomfortable and poorly made. It’s easy to look at these and feel sorry for Tommy, to ask “Doesn’t he get it?” There is no sign he gets it, but it honestly does not matter. There is something so damn endearing about his productions; any viewer will see these are his visions as accurately as they can be created in the physical realm. The Disaster Artist does a wonderful job bringing Tommy--the person AND the character--to life.
If you haven't already, go watch The Room, then probably watch it again, and then read the book. Because you are most likely going to want to watch it another time after that. The movie is phenomenal, and the book is a wonderful supplementary piece.
The first time I watched the movie was a special experience. I had known the infamy of the film, of course, and I found out it would be playing at midnight on Cartoon Network's Adult Swim. Having never seen it before, I patiently stayed up for it, despite having class in the morning. I remember being a little worried that my roommate would return during this film and think I was watching something truly disturbing, thus ruining my first experience. As it turned out, he did not return in time for the end, and I was able to fully absorb The Room, as it came to its satisfying conclusion at 2:00am.
As it turns out, the movie is truly a special production. The story is ridiculous, seemingly not adhering to reality. It is more like a series of popular movie tropes jammed together in nonsensical ways. There is a love triangle between Tommy, his fiance, and his best friend, which awkwardly destroys the future marriage. There is a neighbor boy who looks up to Tommy as a pseudo-caretaker. There is a drug sequence. There is a suicide. Trust me, the movie has it all, even if it does none of it well.
The book, The Disaster Artist, chronicles the making of this movie, often called the worst movie of all time. But for as bad as the movie is, the book is really quite poignant. Author, Greg Sestero plays Mark, the aforementioned best friend who ruins Tommy’s marriage. Sestero also happens to be about the only human being to connect with Tommy Wiseau--the person, not the character. At times, the descriptions of the film production are hilarious, but they can also be heartwarming. It is a group of people following the lead of one man who spares no expense to make his dream come true.
If nothing else, it is a fascinating look at the Tommy, again, the person. In this age where as much as possible is known about celebrities, Tommy Wiseau leads what is truly a mysterious life. No one knows how much he is worth, despite his enormous bankroll for The Room. No one knows anything about his family life. No one, not even Sestero, knows even where Tommy was originally from (and his accent only adds to the intrigue).
Tommy has since made a TV series called Neighbors, equally uncomfortable and poorly made. It’s easy to look at these and feel sorry for Tommy, to ask “Doesn’t he get it?” There is no sign he gets it, but it honestly does not matter. There is something so damn endearing about his productions; any viewer will see these are his visions as accurately as they can be created in the physical realm. The Disaster Artist does a wonderful job bringing Tommy--the person AND the character--to life.
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
2016 Detroit Pistons Preview
The Detroit Pistons have the potential to be best team in Detroit this season. Unlike the Tigers and (possibly) the Lions, the Pistons have a chance to make the playoffs, and unlike the Red Wings they have a chance to go far. They are coming off their first playoff berth since 2009 (and really, the first successful season since 2008). For the most part, they are returning the same team as last year. Basketball is such an intimate team sport; there weren’t any additions that could disrupt the rhythm of the players. But the changes they did make should give them some more depth at a couple positions.
We’ll start with the positives: the Pistons have a returning core of Andre Drummond (C), Marcus Morris (PF), Tobias Harris (SF), Kentavious Caldwell-Pope (SG), and Reggie Jackson (PG) which could be one of the best starting fives in the country. Seriously. When these five guys are all playing well, they can be competitive with any team, proving why they can be one of the best teams in the conference.
The Pistons are getting a size upgrade as well. A relatively small team last season, Andre Drummond and Aron Baynes got some help with Boban Marjanovic and Jon Leuer. Boban also brings a year of experience under Gregg Popovich. Hopefully, he can spread some of that coaching genius. Detroit also retained both of their draft picks, Henry Ellenson and Michael Gbinije.
Possibly the biggest downside is Jackson opening the season with a knee injury. There is a chance he might not see the court until December, so the Pistons will have to make do without a top point guard for the first six weeks. Not only that, but Detroit will lose one stable source of three-point shots, and they struggled from three-point range last year. They patched the hole somewhat by signing Ish Smith and (late pick-up) Beno Udrih, and Caldwell-Pope and Stanley Johnson can take some trips at point guard, but it will be nice to get Jackson back in the lineup.
Also, I’m a little concerned with Andre Drummond’s contract signing, up $20 million from last year. Don’t get me wrong: I’m happy to lock up the best rebounder in the league. But he is an expensive center in an increasingly shooting guard league. Also, it’s bittersweet to hand over five million dollars to yearly-joke Josh Smith for another year. The good news is it’s one more year off the monster contract (holding the Pistons to $27 million until 2020); the bad news is it’s $5,400,000 the Pistons don’t get to use this year (and next year, and the year after, and the year after). I don’t know how they pay him, but I hope it’s in the form of a giant check with “Thanks for nothing” in the memo line.
So, the Pistons did not make an drastic improvements, instead sticking with the solid core of last year. How does that make them better off than last year? Basically, I wasn’t impressed with many other teams in the East over the offseason, with the possible exception of Indiana. The teams at the top--Cleveland, Toronto, and Boston--stayed there or got better. Atlanta and Orlando got a bit worse. Chicago, New York, and Washington all confuse me. If the Pistons can play at the same level as last season, I think even the same W/L record will earn a sixth spot where last year it was only good for eighth.
Vegas has set the odds for the Pistons’ win total at 45.5 wins. This might be too high. Nate Silver’s ESPN subsidiary, FiveThirtyEight puts them at 39-43. For a team that finished 44-38 last season, this might be too low. As for the 2016-17 campaign, I really like them somewhere right around .500 or just above. And if they do surpass their record from last year, 46 or 47 wins should make them a very likely candidate for that fourth spot in the Eastern Conference. After the Cavs, the Raptors, and the Celtics, Detroit should at least be looking at one of the remaining playoff seeds. I am ready to watch some DE-TROIT BAS-KET-BALL!
We’ll start with the positives: the Pistons have a returning core of Andre Drummond (C), Marcus Morris (PF), Tobias Harris (SF), Kentavious Caldwell-Pope (SG), and Reggie Jackson (PG) which could be one of the best starting fives in the country. Seriously. When these five guys are all playing well, they can be competitive with any team, proving why they can be one of the best teams in the conference.
The Pistons are getting a size upgrade as well. A relatively small team last season, Andre Drummond and Aron Baynes got some help with Boban Marjanovic and Jon Leuer. Boban also brings a year of experience under Gregg Popovich. Hopefully, he can spread some of that coaching genius. Detroit also retained both of their draft picks, Henry Ellenson and Michael Gbinije.
Possibly the biggest downside is Jackson opening the season with a knee injury. There is a chance he might not see the court until December, so the Pistons will have to make do without a top point guard for the first six weeks. Not only that, but Detroit will lose one stable source of three-point shots, and they struggled from three-point range last year. They patched the hole somewhat by signing Ish Smith and (late pick-up) Beno Udrih, and Caldwell-Pope and Stanley Johnson can take some trips at point guard, but it will be nice to get Jackson back in the lineup.
Also, I’m a little concerned with Andre Drummond’s contract signing, up $20 million from last year. Don’t get me wrong: I’m happy to lock up the best rebounder in the league. But he is an expensive center in an increasingly shooting guard league. Also, it’s bittersweet to hand over five million dollars to yearly-joke Josh Smith for another year. The good news is it’s one more year off the monster contract (holding the Pistons to $27 million until 2020); the bad news is it’s $5,400,000 the Pistons don’t get to use this year (and next year, and the year after, and the year after). I don’t know how they pay him, but I hope it’s in the form of a giant check with “Thanks for nothing” in the memo line.
So, the Pistons did not make an drastic improvements, instead sticking with the solid core of last year. How does that make them better off than last year? Basically, I wasn’t impressed with many other teams in the East over the offseason, with the possible exception of Indiana. The teams at the top--Cleveland, Toronto, and Boston--stayed there or got better. Atlanta and Orlando got a bit worse. Chicago, New York, and Washington all confuse me. If the Pistons can play at the same level as last season, I think even the same W/L record will earn a sixth spot where last year it was only good for eighth.
Vegas has set the odds for the Pistons’ win total at 45.5 wins. This might be too high. Nate Silver’s ESPN subsidiary, FiveThirtyEight puts them at 39-43. For a team that finished 44-38 last season, this might be too low. As for the 2016-17 campaign, I really like them somewhere right around .500 or just above. And if they do surpass their record from last year, 46 or 47 wins should make them a very likely candidate for that fourth spot in the Eastern Conference. After the Cavs, the Raptors, and the Celtics, Detroit should at least be looking at one of the remaining playoff seeds. I am ready to watch some DE-TROIT BAS-KET-BALL!
Monday, October 17, 2016
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.
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.
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