CD Slut

What we've learned here

2007-12-18T22:28:00.000-06:00

Greetings. Yes, it's been a good many months since the CD Slut experiment wound down. I managed to buy a CD every day, as per the plan, and then snagged another 30-something records at that place before I skipped town. I'm still getting through those, as well as the batches I bought on various travels afterwards. But getting through things like the Germs, Edith Piaf and Deep Purple all in rapid succession doesn't seem particularly exciting right now, so I'm taking it nice and slow. I've since implemented a moratorium on new purchases - it's just not fun to try to absorb that much stuff at that pace and keep up your enthusiasm. To an extent, that's the life of a rock critic, but the speed isn't (or shouldn't be) quite so furious.

Anyhow, as I scroll back through the entries (particularly the ones I don't remember - looking at the timestamps should tell you something about my state of mind for doing most of these) I've determined I can't hack it with the snark. Ever since I was an overzealous and embarrassingly earnest Tool fan in high school, my capacity for mockery only goes so far. I never want to get to a sickeningly obsessive, overwrought level, but at the same time, I find that in the way I pass judgment, as well as in what I like to read, I ultimately value most when someone speaks plainly and directly, without the sneer and rolling of eyes that seems to be such a staple of contemporary music criticism. I definitely talk that way sometimes, but there's something about it that translates to sheer annoyance when put into written words, and I've found I can't really go through with it.

Ultimately, what really should come across is excitement. You're excited when it's great, and disappointed when it's underwhelming, only because you really wanted to like it. When I stop listening with the enthusiasm I had when I was fourteen, it will be time to reassess.

A few weeks ago, I was at a bar with one of the bands I had written about on CD Slut. They had taken over the house PA, and were playing random cuts off of their iPods. We stood in a circle with the widest stances we could and air-guitared to old Metallica, Megadeth and Guns N' Roses songs, and it was probably one of the most fun nights I've had in years. It felt like I was back in my room with the posters on the walls of bands I don't listen to so much anymore, making acne-scarred faces that would be of 'naked at school' levels of terror if anyone else saw them.

That's what I'm looking for. I want to like it, I want to say it, and I want to mean it. But in the current music media climate of overanalysis and smirks and ratings down to the percentage point, I don't know where the space for that is anymore. Let's cast aside this nervous self-consciousness and let ourselves be excited again.

#60: Iggy Pop - Lust for Life

2007-09-02T12:45:00.000-05:00

For as much as I've been into the Stooges over the last three years, it's certainly taken me a while to get any Iggy Pop solo records. But I finally snagged a copy of Lust for Life, and my expectations of greatness were mostly met. What really appealed to me about the Stooges was the abrasiveness, especially of Raw Power. I was pretty bummed when I saw the reunited lineup would be skipping the Raw Power on the setlist. I like the first two albums just fine, but when everything was fully in the red at David Bowie's perhaps slightly inept hands, that's what really sets me off.

Lust for Life manages to create an interesting mix of both of those eras, as well as adding dabs of fresh stuff. The first couple of tracks could have been on Fun House, and the screeching guitar on "Some Weird Sin" brings to mind the glorious wailing that opens "Search and Destroy." But when things really get outstanding is on "The Passenger," the 'know you've heard it before but can't place where' nugget of genius that finds Iggy in discarded junkie crooner mode, not as off-the-rails as on "Gimme Danger," but just as eerie. There are very few songs I will listen to on loop, and "The Passenger" just became one of them. It alone made the album worth the purchase.

There are plenty of other doses of goodness, like "Success," which could be a great lost Rolling Stones track, or "Neighborhood Threat," which sounds like a Crazy Horse outtake. I could do without the "Jesus, this is Iggy..." monologue on "Turn Blue," but to grant Iggy his greatness, you also have to allow for his penchant for the theatrical and melodramatic. But when he's roaring like a lion and taking full command of whatever era he's trying to capture, be it the Iggy Stooge of old or a new incarnation of Iggy Pop, it's really as rock and roll as it gets.

Also, this is clearly the greatest album cover of all time. Only fools and mutants disagree.

"The Passenger" live

#59: Dead Kennedys - Frankenchrist

2007-08-31T02:45:00.001-05:00

Frankenchrist was the beginning of the end for the Dead Kennedys. They'd still put out another record, 1986's Bedtime for Democracy, but the lawsuit and scrutiny the band faced upon the release of Frankenchrist would ultimately be the early days of the band's undoing. The PMRC would come down hard on the band, and the resulting legal drama would estrange the members and shake the band's confidence. And ultimately, it wasn't for writing songs like "I Kill Children," it was due to the inclusion of an H.R. Giger poster with the album. I'll refrain from posting it here, but I'll just say it's most often referred to as Penis Landscape. So yeah.

Musically, the record is miles away from Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables, the only other DK album I own, and one of the most fun albums in my collection. The songs crack the five minute mark, feature guitar riffs spread out so much that they actually sound like individual notes, but Jello Biafra's sense of humor and barely-contained rage expressed as sarcasm remains intact, and is the main thing that ties Frankenchrist to its earliest predecessor.

The pair of tracks that stands out on first listen are the two that sound the most like the band's early material, "MTV - Get Off the Air" (minus the trumpet solo) and "Stars and Stripes of Corruption," the album's closer, which clocks in at six and a half minutes. Prog wankers. But as far as "MTV - Get Off the Air" goes, I think there need to be more song titles that are commands. There's something pretty great about it, and assertiveness sure is sexy. It's also fun to hear Jello refer to commercial TV as twenty-five years old.

I don't think this one will occupy a near-permanent spot in the car, but the essence of the band will be enough to keep me coming back, as well as finally getting around to buying the rest of these records. I also put this band in my top five bands least likely to reunite.

"MTV - Get Off the Air" live

"Goons of Hazzard" live

#58: DJ Shadow - Entroducing.....

2007-08-30T02:55:00.000-05:00

So, uh...hooray, it's an hour of seemingly incongruous samples that make a cohesive and quite listenable album.

Er yeah, that's honestly it. It's enjoyable, relaxing, well-constructed, and the only sample I recognized was the drone from Metallica's "Orion" on "The Number Song." A salute is in order for not going for "Funky Drummer" or any Parliament beat.

Besides that, it's hard to say much that's incisive or interesting about Entroducing..... It's a work of obsession, and it achieves what it strives for, which is to be an intricate but easily accessible meshing of music from various sources. Basically, if you read any review of it or even have any vague grasp of the style, it will make sense and sound good. That's all there is to it. Excellence in simplicity.

"Organ Donor" live

"The Number Song"

#57: Willie Nelson - Red Headed Stranger

2007-08-28T01:11:00.001-05:00

I feel kind of guilty, because every year I pick Willie Nelson as number one in my death pool. It's not that I wish him ill or like he's in bad shape, it's just a feeling. Obviously, it's been wrong so far. But I never heard a more satisfied man than a local sports radio host after Bob Hope died, something he'd been predicting for eight years. I hope to one day know that joy.

Apparently, this album tells a story involving religion and murder, but I didn't really pick up on it. Musically, it's remarkably sparse, with rarely more than a single guitar, Willie's voice and sometimes a fiddle slowly grinding away in the background. But I'm pretty appreciative that it's a more simple affair, because to me, the more you add, the worse country gets. I'm aiming for something I can hear around a fire, not something requiring a sixteen-piece orchestra. That's why everyone laughs at "A Man Needs a Maid."

The brevity of these songs is also pretty interesting - the majority clock in under two minutes, and only three tracks break the three-minute mark. So Red Headed Stranger covers a lot of moods pretty quickly, but it never comes across as forced or too quick. It's more like you're gently guided from the murder to the funeral and on through the story. It's also interesting to note that Nelson only had hand in writing just under half of the songs, and the rest come from various other writers, but the whole thing is remarkably cohesive. So first Willie Nelson record, I declare this to be a win. I still need to figure out which Merle Haggard records to get, though.

#56: Minor Threat - Complete Discography

2007-08-27T00:51:00.000-05:00

Okay, this is great. Minor Threat needs to reform as a business enterprise just for the purpose of suing Pulp so they can somehow claim the name This is Hardcore for their Complete Discography compilation. Because basically, this is an entire genre defined in forty-seven minutes.

While some of the more storied hardcore records and bands leave me a little cold or hoping for something more aggressive, Minor Threat completely delivers. I'm glad, because I remember being somewhat unimpressed with Fugazi, but it's all here - the blazing tempos, the half-enunciated vocals, and that prominent, rattling bass that I love so damn much. And much to Ian MacKaye's chagrin, this would be a great drinking record.

About a year or so ago, I watched the American Hardcore documentary, and walked away pretty amped about exploring the genre further. Well, all I've really done since then is get a Bad Brains record, but this has totally rekindled my interest. I probably need to go back and watch that movie again so I can make a mental list of where to go from here. I'm assuming I can't go wrong with the Germs and Circle Jerks, so I'll probably start from there. I'm glad there are still genres of aggressive music that I haven't milked dry yet, but I suppose it would have been pretty swell to be into this at fourteen for maximum parental annoyance.

"Straight Edge" - you don't see many frontmen drinking soda onstage anymore

"It Follows" and "Screaming at a Wall"

#55: The Damned - Damned, Damned, Damned

2007-08-26T03:22:00.001-05:00

Often considered the first full-length punk record from the UK, Damned, Damned, Damned was released in 1977, a year after the Ramones' debut. The songs are hyperspeed bursts of alternating snottiness and...nevermind, there's really not much alternating going on. The chorus of the pedal to the floor opener "Neat Neat Neat" is reduced to "Ni Ni Ni," and the barely one-minute "Stab Your Back" manages to sound like a complete song.

Thankfully, no amount of remastering can eliminate the rawness of the record, which, fidelity-wise, actually sounds worse than the first Ramones record. The band obviously has a direction and a personality on their debut, but when comparing them to the Ramones, the vision doesn't sound quite as unified. It's damn good, but in between the Chuck Berry guitar and endlessly active bass, there's a hint of missing character that would have bumped this to another level. Maybe I'm just annoyed that "So Messed Up" is a cautionary tale rather than something more jubilant.

On a happier note, Rat Scabies is probably the greatest stage name anyone has ever come up with. He's the dude licking the pie out of bassist Captain Sensible's hair on the cover. It doesn't show up on the cover, but frontman Dave Vanian's white makeup and slicked-back hair would eventually be ripped off by many a young band, and he looks as badass as M. Shadows from Avenged Sevenfold wishes he did.

"New Rose"

"Fan Club"

#54: ZZ Top - Tres Hombres

2007-08-24T02:55:00.001-05:00

I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for the planning of the Tres Hombres cover. "Okay. We have pictures of all three of you, the band name and the album title." "Lower that shit." It's such a weird use of space. I hated it when I first noticed it, but now it's pretty great.

Being a Texan, I feel obligated to love my share of dirty-ass rock and roll, and it's never been a problem to live up to my end of that deal. Discovering beer helped, too. And ZZ Top is a beer drinkin' band. I have my favorite band to listen to on particularly boozy nights, and lately it's been all about ZZ Top and Motorhead - stuff that doesn't require much precision to air-guitar to, but still jacks you upside the head.

Tres Hombres is often thought of as the more 'authentic' counterpart to the band's mega-selling Eliminator. Tres Hombres predates that record by ten years, but save for the synthesizers the band would later throw into the mix (which I'm totally fine with), there's really nothing different musically between the two records. There might be a little more boogie, which is probably more a result of the non-production production job, in which the band sounds as unencumbered as possible, allowing the guitars to achieve a sharper sound and letting the bass be more than just a constant buzz.

Opener "Waitin' for the Bus" takes no prisoners with some of Billy Gibbons' best guitar work, and even though "La Grange" is the most oft-mentioned cut on the album, it's a cover and therefore doesn't count, so "Bus" gets the nod for most badass song, regardless of which tune was responsible for more sales. Once things get going, it's basically thirty minutes of fuzzy grooves and dry throats, and track by track, I could hear Tres Hombres enter my hallowed tome of unsober music.

The only misstep is the ballad, "Hot, Blue and Righteous," which isn't a bad song, but on an album that just tips the thirty-minute mark, is there really a need to bring things down? Maybe I sound like the guys that yelled "too long!" and "prog-rock wankers!" when Napalm Death would play a song that lasted more than a minute, but it just seems unnecessary. But screw it, I'll just revise my playlist to play "Waitin' for the Bus" again instead. Who cares if I don't notice that I heard it already?

"Waitin' for the Bus" and "Jesus Just Left Chicago" live in 2005. Ignore the choreography.

#53: Beastie Boys - Ill Communication

2007-08-23T03:37:00.000-05:00

Often the lowest-reviewed of any of the Beastie Boys' vocal records, Ill Communication is a record made by a band - yeah, things are more band-like this time - that is trying to shed its image as snotty young hip-hop/punk kids. Well, most of the time.

From the start, it's clear that the sample bukkake of Paul's Boutique is long gone, with tracks mostly comprised of original compositions, as well as numerous instrumental tracks ("Sabrosa" is a standout). There aren't any big party anthems - single "Sabotage" is probably the closest thing - and the record sounds a good bit more...not necessarily downbeat, but not as bouncy or upbeat. The most notable exceptions are the dual bursts of hardcore that are two of the most obvious standouts just for their rage alone: "Heart Attack Man" and the minute-long "Tough Guy."

Ill Communication stands as an interesting record in the band's discography, as a point at which the band is basically looking at itself and saying, "Okay, we did all that, what else do we have?" It turned out they had plenty, but it takes some acclimating to. It's the least immediate of any of their vocal albums, but there's a lot going on here. While the layers may not be as fascinating to peel away as Paul's Boutique, it's definitely the right hip-hop record for...whatever it is this mood is.

"Sabrosa" live a few weeks ago

The classic "Sabotage" video

#52: Butthole Surfers - Electriclarryland

2007-08-22T02:20:00.001-05:00

"Pepper" will always hold a sappy place in my heart. It's not that it was the soundtrack to any particular event, it's just in a personal hall of fame containing songs from the mid-Nineties that I listened to incessantly back when I thought the radio was badass. But for me, "Pepper" is up there with "Hey Man, Nice Shot," "What Do I Have to Do," "Self Esteem" and (especially) "Backwater" as songs that don't necessarily define an era musically, just as specific of what I thought (and still think) was awesome.

Despite holding the album's best-known song in such high esteem, I'd never listened to another Butthole Surfers song (their inclusion on Guitar Hero II notwithstanding) until today, when I bought Electriclarryland, which actually isn't the band's best album title. That trophy has to go to Locust Abortion Technician. But it's still pretty great. And the art...the art.

The record kicks in the door with the full-speed rave up of "Birds," and then takes things down a little with the more melodic-based "Cough Syrup." "Ulcer Breakout" sounds like a lost Zen Arcade track, and "TV Star" features a nice dose of well-played slide guitar. At more than a few points - and especially on "Ah Ha," the band suddenly sounds like a spitting image of REM, and it's hard to say if that would be tremendously insulting to the Butthole Surfers or not.

The more guitar-driven, rock tracks chug ahead with a brand of distortion that reduces the guitars to a buzzing blur, and the more experimental tracks must have been a laborious concoction birthed from various pedals, machines and non-instrument sources. But both types are pretty damn fun.

Electriclarryland feels a bit like a Mr. Bungle record in a way - not when comparing the sound, but both bands pull off something so eclectic yet so unified that it sounds more like listening to something that spans years rather than a single session. It's not the greatest record I've ever heard, but it's definitely one of the most fun that I've bought lately, and has opened the door for me to dig deeper into their discography.

"Ulcer Breakout" on the Larry Sanders Show

"Pepper" on Letterman

#51: Bob Dylan - Highway 61 Revisited

2007-08-21T01:08:00.001-05:00

Well, it happened. I did something I always dreaded and said I'd probably never do.

I bought a Bob Dylan album.

For as long as I can remember, I never understood why anyone gave a damn about Bob Dylan. I especially hated all the "oh he's such a brilliant poet" praise from the same people that try to put Jim Morrison in some transcendental pantheon of geniuses instead of just as a pretty decent singer for a band that had a few good songs.

But come to find out, Bob Dylan has at least nine good songs. Yeah, it turns out I liked Highway 61 Revisited. I'm obviously not saying anything earth shattering by saying I enjoyed one of the best-received albums...well, ever, but my downright scorn for Dylan has lasted though a few decades now, so this is a big deal for me.

And really, what did it for me was the music itself. His vocals, I can still take or leave, but they're not as annoying, white boy fast talk-rap as some of his other material, and I still don't give a shit about his lyrics whatsoever. But the songs themselves were pretty damn enjoyable, and it really reminded me that I'd probably rather go get a Band album than another Dylan album right away, and that I probably still won't enjoy his early, folksier stuff.

His band sounds pretty great, though, and I'd have to find new levels of curmudgeonly scorn to not get a kick out of the music on these tracks. This is kind of like seeing a teacher you always hated at a bar and finding out that they can be kind of awesome sometimes. I'm not sold on Dylan as a whole yet, and I still hate his smug demeanor and all the clowns that tried to follow him, but Highway 61 Revisited is all right by me.

#49 & #50: Gram Parsons - G.P. and Grievous Angel

2007-08-20T01:53:00.000-05:00

G.P. and Grievous Angel would be the only records country rock pioneer Gram Parsons would make during his twenty-six-year-long life. Released in 1973 and '74, respectively, listeners were finally treated to Parsons' take on country without the confines of a band, as the Byrds and Flying Burrito Brothers were in his past at this point.

By this point, Parsons was neck-deep in the quagmire of booze and drugs that would kill him so early, but there's no way to tell from listening to these records. The only evidence of any substance problems is the bloated face on the cover of Grievous Angel, which is only a puka shell necklace away from looking like your average high school jock. But the music is still spot-on.

"Note-perfect" is really the best way to describe these two records. Nothing ever feels misplaced or excessive, and it's recorded so well that it feels spontaneous, although the songs are clearly very well-constructed. G.P. opener "Still Feeling Blue" embodies his whole sound from the start - excellent lead guitar, violin solos, his easygoing vocals, and the always present backup harmonies of Emmylou Harris.

For as much as the genre 'country rock' is thrown around, it's probably much more apt a label for his work with the Flying Burrito Brothers than his solo albums, because this is straight up country in the best sense. Only on a handful of occasions - "Cry One More Time" and "Big Mouth Blues" on G.P. - do things sound like a collision of Hank Williams and Jerry Lee Lewis.

Once Grievous Angel came along, Parsons' problems were worse, and the tracklisting reflects that. Only two of the songs were written by him, but he still sounds absolutely stellar. He comes right out of the gate with one of his own songs, "Return of the Grievous Angel," which maybe features his best-ever harmonies with Harris. In fact, the record was originally to be credited to both Parsons and Harris, but after his death - which preceded the release of Grievous Angel - his jealous widow, who was never a fan of Harris, had her name and image removed from the album's cover. But her presence is even stronger here, adding some flair to Parsons' more earthbound delivery.

This is the second record I've bought this summer to feature a cover of "Love Hurts," a track I always hated, but this time, it's performed the way it should be - as a sensitive, reflective duet, rather than as a boisterous, testosterone-fueled power ballad.

As messed up as he was at this point, it's amazing we got two solo records out of him. But we did, and the universe of non-cheesy, creative, yet mindful of tradition country music is better off as a result. I'd challenge any clown who says "I like everything except rap and country" to not narrow that list down a bit after hearing G.P. and Grievous Angel, and I've also got a few Run-DMC albums they need to hear while I'm at it.

"Big Mouth Blues" live - apparently one of his more coherent performances, as the live setting showed his deterioration far more than his recorded output

#48: Miles Davis - Sketches of Spain

2007-08-19T19:38:00.000-05:00

"Is it jazz or isn't it?" is all I've been able to read online about Sketches of Spain. Rather than working from the modal framework of the album's immediate predecessor, Kind of Blue, Sketches takes pre-existing compositions and adds Miles' virtuosity and Gil Evans' arranging prowess to the mix while altering little else. Since the improvisation is much more contained and there isn't much that stands as a product of its time (1960), it's often said that this is more of an orchestral piece than a jazz record.

I don't care.

All that matters to me is that the songs are damn good, and that the Spanish vibe is carried throughout the record without overdoing it and going into bad Mexican restaurant mariachi band territory. It's expressive but never flamboyant, and restrained without being constricted. Even when he's playing pieces he didn't compose, the coolness remains, and Sketches of Spain smartly drips cool rather than a manufactured stereotypical Spanish flavor, but who would have expected anything less? Coltrane and Cannonball may have sat this one out, and it ultimately sounds more cinematic than club-ready, but it's as enjoyable as a Miles Davis record could be for me.

#47: Massive Attack v. Mad Professor - No Protection

2007-08-18T03:13:00.000-05:00

Okay, it's pretty hard to try to write about an album that's a dub version of an album you haven't heard. While I love the hell out of Blue Lines and especially Mezzanine, I've had a hard time finding Protection in stores, so I figured I'd grab No Protection when I had the chance.

For those unfamiliar with dub, it means that you basically take a song or album and remove most of the vocals while drenching things in echo and reverb. (Fun fact: Firefox spell check doesn't recognize 'reverb' as a word.)

I spent most of the evening driving around town with No Protection as the soundtrack, and it's definitely well put together, and is great for nighttime wandering music. That said, it's so incredibly mellow and chilled out that it's hard to stay too focused on it if you're not familiar with the original mixes or have a taste for the source material. Otherwise, you find yourself drifting in and out of the songs, while...you...zzzzzzz

#46: Television - Marquee Moon

2007-08-17T02:34:00.000-05:00

In Delaware in the Sixties, there were two kids named Richard Meyers and Thomas Miller. They decided school had served its purpose, so they hopped in a car, skipped town, and managed to set fire to a field in Alabama and get themselves arrested. In retrospect, it's pretty obvious which one started it.

The two would later meet up again in New York City, this time with the names Richard Hell and Tom Verlaine. Verlaine joined Hell in a band called the Neon Boys, which would later become Television. Hell bailed after a while to form the Heartbreakers, the famed junkie supergroup, and would later ditch that to form the Voidoids. Verlaine stuck with Television, and subsequently released Marquee Moon, universally hailed as one of the more mature records to come out of the late Seventies scene in New York.

Despite the obvious differences in sound between the two's work after their divergence - the Voidoids being a pioneering group that proved there was room for literacy in punk as well as being a smartass, and Television birthing a style of guitar-driven art rock - the first thing that struck me about Marquee Moon is how much it reminded me of the Voidoids' Blank Generation, also released in 1977.

To my ear, Marquee Moon sounds like Blank Generation without the slightly yelpy vocal delivery and more of an ear for melody and instrumental proficiency. Speed up any of these songs and make the lyrics a little more street-level, and you end up with two sibling records.

That said, my pre-existing affinity for the more abrasive warbling of Hell and Co. somehow steers me a little away from Television's more refined sound, especially after the glasses-and-beard types prattling on about the band's greatness. But I did enjoy a good bit of Marquee Moon, even if it wasn't the parts I expected to.

The album's two most storied songs are "Venus," perhaps the most oft-referenced song by people reminiscing about the scene at CBGBs, and the over ten-minute title track, usually considered one of the finest displays of guitar playing from the era. While I didn't find either to be particularly bothersome, any interest they held for me was washed away when the instantly memorable "Elevation" came on, and especially the tremendously bleak (which in my book is often synonymous with tremendously awesome) "Torn Curtain," the latter of which sounds like music that John Cale - their predecessor by more than ten years - wouldn't be writing for another twenty-five after this. I don't think Radiohead would have written "Exit Music (For a Film)" without it.

I'm really happy those two tracks surprised me, because while there's nothing off-putting on the rest of the record, it does have the overall feel of an album I'd probably only put on when I wanted to feel like some superior music dickhead rather than picking out something I'd fully enjoy. But because of those tracks, I'll be giving the rest of the album more of a chance, and hopefully the others will grow on me. I bet they will.

#45: Stevie Wonder - Innervisions

2007-08-15T05:01:00.000-05:00

Holy shit, everything about this album is perfect. After a listen and a half so far, this is probably the best I've album I've bought so far during my CD Slut endeavor. I've absolutely lost my shit to every track on this record. Right now, Stevie is wailing on "All in Love is Fair," and it's one of the best vocal performances I've ever heard - ever. There's no overrating to be done with this record - it's stellar from start to finish.

I'd actually put this record off for a few days because I felt like it would be a chore or something, but as soon as I gave it a chance, I absolutely cannot stop listening to it. I'm slack-jawed and stunned at this point. As with a few of the previous records I've tacked, I have no idea what to say that hasn't been said before, since this is an absolute classic. There's so much to learn and enjoy on this record that it's almost distracting.

It makes me particularly happy that this is quite the auteur record record - Stevie wrote, produced and arranged this beast, and it shows - it's clearly a singular vision, and at no time does it get complicated or blurred. If someone at a bar asked me to explain this, I'd probably just shrug. Hopefully they'd understand.

"Higher Ground" and "Don't You Worry 'Bout a Thing" live

Stevie Wonder absolutely destroying the drums

#44: Sonic Youth - Daydream Nation

2007-08-13T23:36:00.000-05:00

I had a dream the other night. It's the same type of dream I've had before, just with a few details changed. Some people have the dream where they're falling, some people have the 'naked at school' dream, and I have this one.

I'm backstage at a show and handed an instrument. Sometimes it's an instrument I've never played. I am then told - and for some reason agree - to perform said instrument before a live audience in the coming minutes. The first time this happened, I was a fill-in drummer - I cannot drum - for the Dillinger Escape Plan. I awoke in a sweat. This time, I was handed a bass - which I do play - and told I was about to play with Sonic Youth. The only real problem there was that I had never once listened to Sonic Youth. I could name you a few of their albums and only one song, and I had absolutely zero idea how any of their songs went. Somehow, Sonic Youth is a band that had just escaped my ears this whole time.

What I'm most intrigued by in this dream is that I did go onstage and play for a bit. I really wish I could remember what the music sounded like, since I had absolutely no notion of what it was supposed to sound like. And I did manage to suck horribly and was heckled by the audience. I again awoke in a sweat.

So I took that as a sign to pick up some Sonic Youth at the store the next day, and I managed to grab a copy of Daydream Nation. Sonic Youth is a band I always held alongside Pavement in my head, which is bizarre, since I'd never really bothered to listen to either until this summer. People have said to me before, "Wow, I envy you, you get to listen to those bands for the first time. I wish I could do that again." Well, I'll trade you, because now that I've taken the time to listen to Sonic Youth and Pavement, my fears have been confirmed. I can't stand either.

With Pavement, I heard - albeit anachronistically - a less tuneful Weezer, and with Sonic Youth, I hear a more tuneful, yet far less interesting, Husker Du. Again, Daydream Nation is a record rock critics are supposed to fellate (every single review linked to on Wikipedia gets the five-star treatment), and I feel that finding this record to have hardly any virtues places me squarely outside some sort of circle, and I can't decide if that's good or bad or if it matters at all. It probably doesn't, since everyone else will be tripping over themselves to write about all the knock-off bands and reissues. They can have them.

As far as positives, all I can say is that there was a dash of quality interplay between the guitar and the drums here and there, but the songs themselves failed to draw me in even the slightest amount. I kept waiting for songs to start, or for the 'good part' to happen, but nothing developed. I know the final Trilogy trio is supposed to be epic and grand - or perhaps satirical of such devices - but it just sounded meandering and tired to me. At least now I've given it a fair shake, and now I can say - with confidence - I don't get it, I don't get it, I don't get it, this isn't for me. And I'm really quite fine with that.

#43: X - Los Angeles

2007-08-13T03:25:00.000-05:00

How did I manage to remain completely oblivious to the fact that X's debut LP was produced by Ray Manzarek? I guess I assumed that he was busy spending the majority of his post-Jim Morrison life trying to convince John Densmore to license Doors songs for commercials. I had no idea he had a hand in the punk scene. How curious.

Perhaps the most interesting thing to me about Los Angeles is how, only four years after the Ramones' debut, how refined and mature X made punk rock sound. There's not much brattiness or snotty vocal delivery here, and the guitars are more Chuck Berry than chainsaw - not to mention Manzarek's keyboards scattered throughout the record.

I've already mentioned my idiotic bias against female vocalists (except for Beth Gibbons and Justine Frischmann), but I have no problems whatsoever with Exene's melody-rich but forceful delivery, and especially when she locks in harmony with John Doe, like on "Your Phone's Off the Hook, But You're Not," things get downright amazing.

The best-known track off the record, as well as from X's whole catalog, is the anti-rape tune "Johnny Hit and Run Pauline," which features more great unison vocals and some pretty harrowing imagery. The prize for weirdest lyrics probably goes to "Sex and Dying in High Society," with lines like "Every time you look at him, you could almost fall asleep/And there's a masterbating [sic] getting underneath the bed." What? I don't know.

There aren't many 'beat you over the head' tempos or full on thrashers on Los Angeles, but it really doesn't matter. It still has its substantial doses of melody and ugliness, and even if it sounds constructed at more of an undergraduate level than junior high, it's bold and punk as hell through and through.

"Your Phone's Off the Hook, But You're Not" live

"Nausea" live, taken from The Decline of Western Civilization

#42: Otis Redding - The Dock of the Bay

2007-08-13T03:07:00.000-05:00

I really feel like I'm cheating on the whole premise of this blog by buying things I already know are great, especially records that came out nearly forty years ago and have already had buckets of ink spilled for the cause of extolling their greatness.

So by buying The Dock of the Bay, I expected to be buying what would be come the best soul album in my collection, and that's pretty much what happened. I'm so predictable. I excited that by owning this, I'm finally able to purge from my memory Percy Sledge's nasal, geriatric rendition of the sort-of title track he performed when I saw him a year or so ago.

It's easy to immediately latch onto Redding's vocals and let them carry you through the record, but I'm really getting a kick out of listening to the instrumentation. Otis (or Steve Cropper) really pulled together an A-list, including Booker T, Donald "Duck" Dunn, Isaac Hayes, and a general smattering of the greatest studio musicians of the era.

Cropper's production here is excellent - the sound is completely open while still remaining precise, allowing things like the stellar interplay between the guitar and horns on "Don't Mess With Cupid" to sound as great as they do, all while backing up one of the most incendiary voices of the decade.

#41: Elvis Costello and the Attractions - This Year's Model

2007-08-12T03:19:00.001-05:00

Hip-O Records just re-released all of Elvis Costello's early records, and some chump from the record label sold a bunch of shrink-wrapped copies to the record store I go to. I'm tempted to run out this whole week on CD Slut with Elvis Costello reissues. We'll see what happens.

Since I already own My Aim Is True, his solo debut, I figured I'd get This Year's Model, his second album, and his first with The Attractions, his first - and best-known - backing band.

For a long time, I was hesitant to get any Elvis Costello records. Now, I'm not sure why that was, but I think I was afraid they'd somehow be too cheesy or to...I don't know, English, although I'm sure I never put it in those terms in my brain. Anyhow, I got over my silly little phobia and picked up My Aim is True and Trust over the last few months, and they're obviously great. I know music appreciation is subjective, but there's not a lot of legroom for arguing anything against Elvis Costello's early work. It's simple, effective, and emotionally-driven rock music with dashes of punk and what would later be called new wave - I'm not sure what there is to gripe about.

With This Year's Model, I think I may have picked up my favorite record of his so far. I really liked Trust the best to this point, as his first record was perhaps a bit schmaltzy - the Attractions weren't around to keep things driving forward - but This Year's Model is just as good as Trust, if not more immediate and gripping. There's a smattering of classics, such as the storied "Radio, Radio," and "Pump it Up," which may have been the track that made me originally think I'd hate Elvis Costello, but since I'm over that by now, I can enjoy it just fine.

"(I Don't Want to Go to) Chelsea" is maybe my favorite track on the record, although "The Beat" may have something to say about that. The album is so direct and full of great melodies that it's hard to single any out, but those are probably the two most interesting songs at this point. Somehow I get the feeling that if I had picked this up in high school, I would have clinched the title of 'class weirdo.' I don't know anyone (among my peers) who listened to anything quite like this back then, and even though these records were released when my dad still had his head in contemporary music, he never exposed me to this. The one Police record that was sitting around the house back then was written off as being something his younger sister had left in his collection and he never bothered with it. But then again, that damn guy had a bunch of The Band and Townes Van Zandt records that he never bothered to play for me back in the day. I'm still pissed about that.

While these new reissues don't have the meaty batch of B-sides that the Rhino reissues featured, and there aren't any witty liner notes, at least this batch means that there's more copies in circulation for me to finally get my hands on. I only wish the similarity between the opening bars of "Little Triggers" and the closing credits music for Saturday Night Live weren't a coincidence. That'd totally be like omg foreshadowing.

"(I Don't Want to Go to) Chelsea"

"The Beat" live

#40: David Bowie - Space Oddity

2007-08-10T01:54:00.000-05:00

Ignore, if you can, the frightful hairdo David Bowie is sporting on the cover of Space Oddity. At least it's not as terrifying as the cover of his self-titled debut, but it's still shocking in its unpleasantness. While Space Oddity shows up on most Bowie discographies as the album that bridges the gap between Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust, it was actually his second record (initially titled Man of Words/Man of Music), and was released just before The Man Who Sold the World.

For an artist who has famously mutated so much during his career, it must have been particularly difficult to pick a starting point from which to spiral out. The sound that would later gain him fame is present in a slightly less polished form here, and his knack for driving songs home with huge melodies and choruses hadn't yet developed fully, but regardless, it's a good record.

The only song from the album that's stuck around is the title track, often erroneously referred to as "Ground Control to Major Tom." That's sort of a shame, since there's a good amount of compelling material here, from the back porch hoedown of "Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed" to the Spanish-flavored guitar that weaves in and out of "God Knows I'm Good." "Wild Boy from Freecloud" sounds like the show-stopper for some unwritten musical, complete with epic strings and harp, and the off-kilter instrumentation of "Memory of a Free Festival" makes the song sound startlingly modern. I could see some indie band that I don't care about making a whole career around the sound of that track. That said, the inclusion of an aborted take for "(Don't Sit Down)" is useless, and the couplet "Planet Earth is blue/And there's nothing I can do" makes me wince.

So while Space Oddity doesn't have much cohesion in style or many tracks that stand out to the non-historically-minded, it's pretty enjoyable, and surprisingly well put together for being so early in his career. This won't be one I pull off my shelf the most, but I think it's going to have the most for me to discover over time. We'll see if I give it more of a chance.

"Space Oddity" live

#39: The Police - Ghost in the Machine

2007-08-09T05:20:00.001-05:00

Ghost in the Machine is generally agreed to be the Police's weakest record, and that's a pretty accurate assertion. Aside from the one-two opening punch of "Spirits in the Material World" and "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic," there's not much worth giving a damn about on this record, and not much of it is being revisited on the band's most recent tour.

It's been very interesting to watch the reactions towards the reunion tour evolve - at first, everyone was shitting bricks about the band getting back together. The idea of hearing "Message in a Bottle" put together by the original three dudes was a tremendous proposition, no matter what you're interested in. But by the time the tour rolled around to Dallas, there was too much consternation about slowed-down songs, destroyed moods, and, when it got down to it, tremendous boredom. So even though there were twenty-dollar tickets left an hour or two before showtime, I skipped out.

Really, Ghost in the Machine wouldn't have had much to do with my enjoyment of the show, and I suppose that's part of the point of this review - this is likely the least essential Police record, and even though it has two great songs, the rest is a huge dose of filler that doesn't do anything for the band's legacy. When I was a kid, this was the only Police record we had on vinyl, which was an accident anyway, because we determined my dad's sister had left it behind, without the packaging, nonetheless. So I remember just listening to the first two tracks and skipping the rest - even as a twelve year old, I knew what Stewart Copeland and Co. knew in 1981 - that this was some mediocre shit. So without dragging much more into this, I'll just assert that Ghost in the Machine was a pretty stale record that led into the additionally uninteresting Synchronicity, and makes it clear that the early Police records were infinitely superior.

"Every Little Thing She Does is Magic"

#38: Air - 10 000 Hz Legend

2007-08-08T02:26:00.000-05:00

So my opinion on Air's 10 000 Hz Legend was requested, and as a gentleman, I have obliged. So here's my opinion: I have no idea what the hell to think of this record other than that everything I've read about it so far is pretty much right.

As the band's second proper album (not counting the score to The Virgin Suicides), 10 000 Hz Legend is tough to get a read on. The first few tracks feel a bit like something the band could have sniffed around in the Moon Safari sessions, but then it began to sound like I had inadvertently bought the one existing copy of the secret album Radiohead made in between OK Computer and Kid A. A ton of the atmospheres are the same, that damn computer voice is there, and things are oppressively bleak, although somehow not the kind of oppressive bleakness that I enjoy. Maybe some day I'll try to explain that that previous sentence means.

One thing this album did for me is remind me that I hate Beck. Everything he's done except for Sea Change, I hate. So when his warbling and yelping comes in on "The Vagabond," I was ready to turn it off, make up that the rest of the album was 'decent but lacking,' and go about my business. But I fought through, and there was some good stuff in there, like the directionless but pretty "Radian" and the sublime closer, "Caramel Prisoner."

I wonder if there's a Pinkerton-esque cult around 10 000 Hz Legend, because at first, both provide pretty grating listening experiences. I guess it's hard to call an album of gentle ambient music 'grating,' but a handful of elements here somehow manage to become abrasive without pushing anything into the red. The contrast between the over-tinkering and the potential greatness is perhaps most evident on "How Does It Make You Feel?" a track dominated by vocoder, only to be interrupted by stellar, unprocessed, harmony vocals. I suppose when a genre is called 'electronica' it's an idiot move to crave more humanity on the records, but that's really what makes albums like Talkie Walkie and Moon Safari special - it's always clear that there's men behind the machines, not just something seemingly created synthetically in a vacuum. I guess some could find a robotic, cold appeal to this, but it's not for me.

There really are some gems here, and I don't consider the album to be rubbish, but it's clear the band knew they needed to get back to more comfortable roads, as Talkie Walkie preserves the instrumentation of these first two records, but all additional elements and vocals are put more in focus and handled with a little more care. But as it is, 10 000 Hz Legend is an interesting document of a band trying to put out a few ripples to see if it would take.

"How Does It Make You Feel?"

#37: Death - Scream Bloody Gore

2007-08-07T00:59:00.001-05:00

One of the first death metal albums ever released (Possessed's Seven Churches probably takes the trophy for the absolute first), Death's Scream Bloody Gore sounds a lot less like a guy figuring out a new genre and more like something already fully-imagined. Chuck Schuldiner, Death's only member from start to finish, a la Nine Inch Nails, kicks things off with a complete grasp if what he wants to create. Writing about Scream Bloody Gore tends to present it as a much more primitive, perhaps boneheaded predecessor to the progressive and experimental touches that would later define the band's more storied output, but from my perspective, this record is just as accomplished as almost everything the band would release up until Sound of Perseverance, an album that's essentially an era unto itself.

"Evil Dead" opens with the same sort of restrained melodic flair the band would later use on songs like "The Philosopher" and "Lack of Comprehension," so it's apparent that Chuck knew what he was doing from the start. The opening track, "Infernal Death," rages just as hard and with as much precision as anything found on Human or Symbolic, and even though Schuldiner handles bass guitar duties here, something he'd never again do on a Death record, it all sounds fully constructed and as ably performed as could be desired.

In fact, the bass is actually pretty great - prevalent in the mix, thick and expressive. The only element that's a bit dated is the drumming, which is more a fault of the production process than the performance. This was before people like Scott Burns and Colin Richardson came around and figured out how to actually record death metal drumming without it blowing out the consoles, so everything is reduced to a distant rumble.

Death would definitely put out better records that Scream Bloody Gore, sadly reaching an early end with Schuldiner's death in 2001, just when it sounded like he was really pushing his boundaries. But pulling back all the way from this record, Death's first LP, and looking all the way down the line to Sound of Perseverance, it's undeniable that Death put together a discography that stands up to and surpasses any of the genre's greats.

"Denial of Life" live

#36: Lou Reed and John Cale - Songs for Drella

2007-08-06T01:02:00.000-05:00

As Lou Reed acknowledges at the album's close, it did take him and John Cale a while - about three years - to get around to making Songs for Drella, their tribute to Andy Warhol. But regardless of when it happened, it at least served to get one of the more complicated songwriting duos in the history of music back together for another crack at it, and would foreshadow the Velvet Underground reunion two years later.

I had somewhat expected to hate Songs for Drella, as Reed's output in this era was less that of a songwriter, and more of a writer of narratives who just happened to have music that he would talk over. But here, it works, and I feel like I could pump out a couple thousand words about it. Like on New York, the emphasis falls not on the music, but on the story, which is the life of Andy Warhol. I found myself drawing odd parallels between the arc of Songs for Drella, Zen Arcade and American Idiot: boy leaves small town, hits the city, city is overwhelming, boy grows and changes, takes on new persona, etc.

Besides the opener, "Smalltown," which I was already familiar with, due to its inclusion on Lou Reed's Animal Serenade live album, the first track that stood out was "Open House," which features some seriously grim keyboards, and when Cale's voice kicks in at the end in harmony with Reed's - something never really attempted on a Velvet Underground record, so it sounds particularly surprising here - it was apparent to me that this was more than something tossed off as a quick tribute. There's real feeling and emotion driving these songs, even if Reed still has to be sarcastic about it (sincerity isn't his best virtue).

"Style it Takes" features oddly self-referential lyrics about the Velvet Underground, although they're spoken from the perspective of Warhol, and the minimal, soft music fits directly on the continuum that runs between Paris 1919 and later records like HoboSapiens. One thing that stands out here is that nearly twenty-three years later after they ended their initial creative partnership, Cale's willing to assert himself via his keyboards, and he's not afraid to make things actually sound pretty and more...well, musical, for a change. But then the screeching viola of "Images" disrupts everything, and it serves as an excellent son for "The Black Angel's Death Song."

The somber, delicate "Slip Away (A Warning)" fully encapsulates the album's tone - fragile, perhaps a little timid, possibly in an attempt to describe Warhol himself - and when "I Believe" comes in, which matter-of-factly describes Warhol's shooting at the hands of Valerie Solanas, it's hard to believe that this wasn't a difficult song to put to paper - but then again, an almost bouncy melody is tacked on, so maybe they still weren't comfortable with being completely sincere.

Possibly the album's best track, "Forever Changed" stands out from the rest of the record by presenting more of a driving - but not quite rock - tempo and sense of building towards something, which is perhaps made more impressive how forceful the song is even in the absence of drums - a trademark that runs through the whole record.

Reed gets the last word on "Hello It's Me," the album's closing track, and it's clear he still has yet to reconcile a few of his feelings about his relationship with Warhol. There's still a bit of resentment or uneasiness in the lyrics, and things aren't all nicely wound up; but when he closes the album by simply saying, "Goodbye, Andy," it's probably the most frankly he's ever spoken on a record.

"Forever Changed" live

"Hello It's Me" live

#35: Cannibal Corpse - Vile

2007-08-06T00:42:00.000-05:00

Cannibal Corpse needed George "Corpsegrinder" Fisher. After The Bleeding, the band's fourth record, it was obvious that Chris Barnes' voice was absolutely shot. His pained rasps, especially on "Force Fed Broken Glass" and the classic "Stripped, Raped and Strangled" - although this could be considered 'more metal' by some - were so agonized and thin that the record suffered.

On Vile, Fisher brought a dose of freshness to a band that was in danger of getting worn out; he was able to hold down the guttural low end while providing high shrieks, like on the opening of "Devoured by Vermin," the album's first track and still a staple in the band's live set. But it wasn't just the vocals - the band put together an excellent batch of songs, gets a better sense of groove, and still throws out crushers like "Mummified in Barbed Wire" and "Monolith," two of the album's better tracks. "Bloodlands" features an excellent breakdown that builds into yet another ferocious howl, not unlike a great Slayer song.

Cannibal Corpse wouldn't make an album this impressive until Kill, ten years later. But Vile staved off the fatigue that was undoubtedly imminent, as death metal would lose favor in the mid to late Nineties, as well as considering that it's hard to adhere so closely to one genre for so long without repeating things or getting uninspired. But Vile gave the band the momentum it would need for the latter half of the decade until metal would finally regain popularity.

"Devoured by Vermin" live

"Monolith" live - definitely the least frightening Cannibal Corpse song title ever

#34: Ice Cube - Death Certificate

2007-08-04T02:33:00.001-05:00

As I mentioned in my N.W.A. review, I felt like Ice Cube was the group's most accomplished lyricist. While Death Certificate is a year or two after Straight Outta Compton, with AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted in his past, Ice Cube was still hungry in 1991.

When "The Wrong Nigga To Fuck Wit" kicks in, it kicks in SO HARD that it's almost completely absurd. As I said before, Dr. Dre had nothing on Ice Cube vocally until he finally got going on The Chronic, and then, he still had to use Snoop Dogg to cover his ass. Ice Cube produced this along with Sir Jinx and Boogiemen, instead of picking guys who were well known enough to get blasted off the streets. But as it turns out, Ice Cube does N.W.A. no injustice (except for "No Vaseline," which isn't the most 'we're all friends now' song there is), and keeps the vibe and attitude with tracks like "A Bird in the Hand" and "True to the Game." It's an excellent record, with or without the rest of the N.W.A.

"Steady Mobbin'"

#33: B.B. King - Live at the Regal

2007-08-03T01:01:00.000-05:00

When I hear about classic live albums, all I ever tend to hear about are The Ramones' It's Alive, James Brown's Live at the Apollo, and B.B. King's Live at the Regal.

I used to be addicted to live recordings. I had Metallica's Live Shit box set, Nine Inch Nails' And All That Could Have Been, and Tool's Salival. While those are still floating around my collection somewhere, I have really gotten out of the habit of enjoying live albums. I used to go out of my way to get the special edition of a record of there were additional live cuts tacked on, and looked forward to new live albums as much as studio ones. But after I got burned out on S&M and Phil Anselmo's uneven delivery on Pantera's Official Live (Hell, I even used to own a Rammstein live album. Think about how useless that is. Both the audio AND video versions.), I got pretty burned out on the whole "crowd noise mixed with songs you already know" thing.

But blues is really one of the genres that needs live records. With the shrieks of the crowd, the improvisation, and the attitude that can only come when there are stage lights beating down and the pressure of cutting it live, blues is a live beast. I'd say it's even more accommodating to the live arena that jazz albums, since jazz improvisation can grow to masturbatory proportions when let loose live, whereas blues really seems to rein things in.

Live at the Regal was cut in 1964, back when King was still standing up and before Clapton came along and co-opted him. The live quality really shines through, and it gives all of the songs an added punch that wouldn't have come in a sterile studio recording. The howling crowd, offering up advice like, "No, don't do it!" after King sings the line, "Baby, I'd much rather be dead." His chatter is pretty great, too - not at Bo Diddley caliber, of course - but it's nice to see that at one point, someone could get away with lines like, "Don't go upside her head, it'll only do one thing - it'll make her smarter, and she won't let you catch her next time."

Song-wise, the most powerful track is "How Blue Can You Get?" which has some of King's most searing vocals ever and an excellent call and response section between the vocals and the horns that builds up to the album's biggest climax, and the crowd goes absolutely apeshit. Really though, it's the horns that caught me a bit off guard here. I pretend to know a fair bit about blues music, but I tend to think of it more in the 'man and his guitar' way rather than 'guy with a full band,' even though there's really nothing that rare about it. A more stripped-down song, like "Worry, Worry," is more what I had in mind, but I'll come around on the brassiness of it all.

So I guess everyone was right. Live at the Regal is pretty damn smokin'. Now if only I could find a good copy of Townes Van Zandt's Live at the Old Quarter, I'd be in business.

"How Blue Can You Get?"

"You Done Lost Your Good Thing Now" live...on The Bill Cosby Show

#32 - Scorpions - Blackout

2007-08-02T01:39:00.000-05:00

So I have this thing. This thing is that if you can't appreciate Whitesnake, the Scorpions, and "Rainbow in the Dark," I'm not sure if we can ever really see eye-to-eye about music. They're not the most poetic of creative endeavors, but good lord, how they do rock.

I tend to avoid greatest hits compilations. I find it a necessarily evil sometimes, especially with bands from the pre-LP days, where the collecting and remastering aspects of the packages make them worth it. Whenever I see greatest hits discs for bands like Black Sabbath, Judas Priest and Iron Maiden, I giggle. I can't imagine having an Iron Maiden collection and missing out on "22 Acacia Avenue" or a Black Sabbath best-of and not being able to hear "Planet Caravan."

However, I think the Scorpions might fall into the category of a band where it makes sense. Some of my fondest memories of listening to the radio as a kid consist of rocking out in the car to "No One Like You" and "Big City Nights" while my dad stared on in horror. I couldn't help it, I dug the stuff. It was ballsy, well-produced, and catchy as hell. But after listening to Blackout, generally considered the band's breakout album, I wonder if they really were able to stretch it out over the span of a record.

Perhaps I'm just so attuned to it from the aforementioned headbanging as a twelve-year-old, but apart from the classic "No One Like You," I really didn't find anything I enjoyed at all on Blackout. It doesn't have to do with Klause Meine's hilarious delivery ("I've missed you since I've been awieeeeee" and "If I had a choice I would stiieeeeee") or the inherent bloatedness of the whole thing, but there just really aren't that many good songs here.

Even the self-titled Whitesnake album had at least five pretty great songs on it, and they spent most of their time aping Led Zeppelin; but they were able to draw it out over multiple tracks, which the Scorpions just couldn't do on Blackout. I have a soft spot for total cheese-dick rock like this, so maybe I'll warm up to it later on, but even after being in the mood to totally rock out, bro-style, Blackout didn't do a whole lot for me.

"No One Like You" live at the storied US festival

One month down, one to go

2007-08-02T00:39:00.001-05:00

Well, I'm halfway through this thing. I've spent a decent amount of dollars, but fear not, I'm riding this out through August. It's been a blast - the people at the record store know me by now, as do the bartenders who work between my apartment and the store. For the most part, it's been pretty excellent - there have only been a few stumbling blocks, like ferociously underwhelming records from Pavement, Lauryn Hill and Nile, but there are plenty that I keep going back to - Cat Stevens' Mona Bone Jakon has probably earned the most listens so far, and "Maybe You're Right" off of that record has entered my pantheon of truly amazing songs. Hopefully I'll continue to dig up some good stuff for the next 31 days, and hopefully you'll keep reading.

Cheers.

#31: Converge - You Fail Me

2007-08-01T02:04:00.001-05:00

Yup, it's Converge. Released in 2004, three years after Jane Doe, the band's greatest work to date, You Fail Me sounds like a band that's gone a few separate ways in the past, and is trying to put them all together.

Whereas the band's earlier records, When Forever Comes Crashing and Petitioning the Empty Sky, were nonstop ragers that didn't slow down for anyone or anything, Jane Doe stretched things out and experimented with longer songs, additional textures, and dashes of melody beneath the chaos. With You Fail Me, it feels like the band is trying to put all that together, and while it works, the amalgam isn't quite as compelling as sticking to one path and riding it out for the duration of a record.

The opening tracks, "First Light" and "Last Light," brought back memories of Jane Doe's two-part song, "Phoenix in Flight"/"Phoenix in Flames," but the excitement when the heaviness comes in on the second track isn't as warranting of furniture destruction as it was when they did it the first time. For the most part, the songs are tighter, with most clocking in between two and three minutes, save for a few exceptions. In the spirit of the eleven-minute title track on Jane Doe, the tracks "You Fail Me" and "In Her Shadow" are presented back-to-back here, and roughly add up to the same amount of time. The pair is the album's high point, especially the reductionist, 'so stupid only a genius could write it' guitar intro to the title track, and the appropriately-damaged acoustic guitar that opens "In Her Shadow."

One reason I like Converge is one of the same reasons I like Sigur Ros. On every album, there's always one absolutely jaw-dropping part, whether due to stunning orchestration or unfathomable brutality (guess which goes with which). That part doesn't seem to come here - perhaps it's still waiting to reveal itself, but so far, there's nothing like the gut-wrenching crescendo in "Jane Doe" or the exposed agony of "Grim Heart/Black Rose" on No Heroes, the successor to this record.

Actually, No Heroes, which would be released two years later, is where the band finally figured out what they were going for with You Fail Me. There's the aforementioned emotional centerpiece of "Grim Heart/Black Rose," but then it's surrounded by thirteen pummeling tracks, most of which barely scratch the two-minute mark. It's a dynamic the band was trying to capture here, but on You Fail Me, it's as if they were trying to patch it together with a glue stick rather than cement.

"Eagles Become Vultures" - why they wanted to add a minute of nothing to the beginning of a two-minute song, I'll never understand

"You Fail Me" live

And for fun, a brawl that broke out on the Jane Doe tour

#30: Lauryn Hill - The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill

2007-07-31T01:37:00.001-05:00

I don't get it. I just don't. Whatever made this album sell ten million copies or whatever, I don't hear it. It's pleasant enough, I suppose, but it doesn't sound any different than any other 'literate girl that sings words she actually wrote' record to me. Five Grammys? I must be missing something. Maybe it's because I'm turned off by lyrics about marching to Zion or between-song skits featuring awkward people defining what love is, but I didn't find anything to grab my attention.

But due to the aforementioned record sales and awards, there must be something right for a certain audience here, I'm just not it. In regards to nothing, the album has the longest list of personnel ever, that is until Chinese Democracy comes out and there are forty-something credited guitarists, two dozen producers, etc.

The only way I really kept myself amused was by playing 'spot the sample,' and the main one was Gladys Knight and the Pips' "The Way We Were" on "Ex-Factor," but then I'm ashamed because the only reason I know that is because of the Wu-Tang Clan.

I feel bad about my complete apathy towards this record. This was more how I expected to feel about The Score, but I dig that a lot, and Lauryn's hooks are one of the main reasons. I just know when the track that stands out most on the record features goddamn John Legend ("Everything is Everything"), I'm headed in the wrong direction. Whatever makes this work doesn't work for me. This is probably the most indifferent I've felt towards a record in a long time, and that bugs me. If I had to crank out a real review of this now, I'd sweat.

Sorry, Lauryn. It's just stretched-out, pleasant, but not engaging. In a meme, tl;dr

Lauryn Hill - Everything Is Everything

#29: Air - Moon Safari

2007-07-30T02:05:00.000-05:00

For as much as I love Talkie Walkie, Air's third record, I inexplicably expected to hate Moon Safari, their debut. Just based on reviews I'd read, everyone seemed to have their undies in a bunch over Moon Safari while rating Talkie Walkie as a somewhat lesser record. Having started listening to Air in reverse order, I was coming at it from a slightly skewed angle. I had a hard time imagining how anything could live up to "Venus," which I consider something a pinnacle of pop songwriting. I shouldn't have been concerned.

It's not going out on any limbs to say I enjoyed an album that's often considered a modern classic, but based on how much I was planning on being lukewarm on it, I was pleasantly surprised when opener "La Femme d'Argent" started and immediately sounded like Steely Dan's "Do It Again." Hey, I like Steely Dan. This could work. And it did. It stretches to seven minutes, but is so gentle and easygoing that it's impossible to get bored with it, and there's always something being added or mutating.

One thing I found interesting was the amount of instrumentals. Perhaps it just sounds like more than on Talkie Walkie because the tracks with vocals on Talkie Walkie stand out so much to me, so it seems like there's more of them, but there really does feel like there's a bigger reliance on instrumentation here. That's one of the reasons I've avoided Pocket Symphony, because I get nervous about guest vocalists, even though as I look at it now, there's only two on there. I have bizarre and irrational fears.

One of the tracks with vocals, the unfortunately-named "Kelly Watch the Stars," features piano work unlike anything I'd heard from the band so far, and immediately made the song transcend its title. "Talisman" is perhaps the best instrumental on here, and by the time "You Make It Easy" came along, I was convinced that this was, indeed, good. So today's a big day. Putting to rest nonsensical worries about a band I only really like in a casual capacity somehow seems like a minor victory, though, so with that out of the way, it's time to listen to it again and go to bed.

Oh, but "Sexy Boy" is still kind of annoying. Sorry.

"Kelly Watch the Stars"

"Talisman" live

#28: John Frusciante - Smile From the Streets You Hold

2007-07-30T00:58:00.000-05:00

As the legend mixed with some truth goes, Smile From the Streets You Hold was made by John Frusciante for the sole purpose of scoring drug money. Then once he cleaned up and rejoined the Red Hot Chili Peppers, he had the album pulled, and it became somewhat rare. His first solo record, Niandra Lades and Usually Just a T-Shirt, was eventually reissued on American, but this, his second record, has been in short supply for nearly a decade.

It's hard to explain the appeal of early John Frusciante, and it's probable that most people will just see it as a morbid fascination with what basically amounts to suicide on a record. The first two records were made on four-track recorders in John's house, with little or no overdubbing, and only a smattering of tape-speed manipulation to create anything other than the sounds of a man pounding on his guitar and screeching through rotting teeth. For the classic chronicle of this time in John's life, this profile by Robert Wilonsky is essential reading. I interviewed John a number of years later, and it was hard to believe it was the same guy, even if he was still talking about opening portals to the spirit world - oh yeah, this is the record where he first claimed that he was given these songs by spirits. Yeah.

John's later material was much more pop sensible, with standard rock song structures, catchy hooks and much slicker presentation. But these early records take dedication. For every song that sounds like something Fortunato would be howling from his tomb, there's a quick burst or two of melodicism on "A Fall Thru the Ground" or the slow, melodic intro to "I May Again Know John," which comes across as so soulful and together that it's like a glimpse into what it must be like when a junkie tells someone, "No, I'm fine, really," and you believe it for a minute, although the abscesses tell you otherwise.

As far as actual songs go, I find this record - usually considered the weaker of his first two albums - to be more substantial and enjoyable. There was an abundance of half-ideas and meandering instrumentals on Niandra Lades that stretched it well past its welcome, but here, there's some melody, some songs you can almost sing along to, and a spiffy cameo from River Phoenix on "Height Down," contributing some soft vocals that make a nice counterpoint to Frusciante's wounded cries.

So while yes, I do find a certain sort of fascinating appeal in the damaged, downward spiral aspect of his career at this point, there's still something inherently charming about the early records that has nothing to do with thinking about the drugs and the state of his life at that point. Regardless of whether this was made for a quick buck to get a quick fix, there's something special here, and it's fortunate that he decided to pull the needle out of his arm, because I love just about everything he's done since. His solo work is one of the most underrated bodies of singer/songwriter material in the last decade, I firmly believe that.

"Stuff" - a movie made by Johnny Depp and Gibby Hanyes, featuring a few of John's songs from this era and showing his living conditions.

"Life's a Bath"

#27: Nazareth - Hair of the Dog

2007-07-28T01:46:00.001-05:00

Oh lord am I bummed that I didn't make it to the beer store in time before I put on this record, because along with Motorhead and ZZ Top and whatever hairy chest music I can think of at the time, this is a drinking record. So of course, it opens with the title track, a song about getting drunk to get rid of a hangover. They certainly knew the finer points of matching sound with content.

I picked this up because I'd been working on a piece about Appetite for Destruction, and the guys in GNR constantly mentioned Hair of the Dog as an influence both on the production and songwriting for Appetite. They even brought Nazareth guitarist Manny Charlton out to L.A. to potentially use him as their producer, but it didn't work out. All that remains is the stripped, live-sounding mix and Steven Adler's cowbell on "Nightrain." That, and a cover of the title track on the oh-so-glorious "The Spaghetti Incident?"

So before buying the record, I was pretty sure I didn't know any Nazareth songs, but of course, I definitely knew the title track (the "now you're messin' with a son of a bitch" refrain is a favorite bit of babble when watching rednecks from afar in a bar) and "Love Hurts," which might have been a cool song in 1975, but has now been used ironically in so many 'it all falls apart' scenes in shitty movies that, much like "Dust in the Wind," it can't be enjoyed at face value anymore. Alas.

It seemed like things were winding down by the end, but the real big bastard of them all is the near ten-minute closer, "Please Don't Judas Me." It's a borderline ballad that manages to be oddly chilling, obviously setting the stage for even more unnerving latter-day incarnations, such as Pantera's "Suicide Note, Pt. 1" and Slipknot's "Vermillion, Pt. 2." The influence is especially obvious in the former track, as Charlton's screeching guitar over the slow tempo would be basically mimicked by Dimebag to great effect twenty-one years later.

For as much as history scoffs at the Seventies as being lot of bloated Emerson, Lake and Palmer and Yes bullshit, there's some pretty damn solid straightforward rock from this era. I'm not sure what I was expecting with Hair of the Dog, but I dig it. Hell, if AC/DC - a band I've never fully come around on - used more of the loose, drunken swagger found on Nazareth's "Beggar's Day," I'd probably be more of an AC/DC fan. How early do the beer stores open again?

"Hair of the Dog" live in Houston. All the other videos I found were thirty years after the fact and were too depressing to post.

#26: Dusty Springfield - Dusty in Memphis

2007-07-27T02:22:00.000-05:00

Wow, I'm out of my element here. This is pretty bizarre for me. I don't think I own anything in the ballpark of Dusty in Memphis, and I don't have anything to compare it to other than her male soul counterparts, like Marvin Gaye and Isaac Hayes.

In general, I find I'm biased against female vocalists. Sad, perhaps, but that's really the way it is - especially with rock music. I think the only album I love that I count as a 'rock' record and features a female vocalist is the first Elastica record. That's not to say I don't love Tori Amos' Boys for Pele or Massive Attack's "Teardrop," I just have a harder time getting attuned to female vocals.

So perhaps it's a good sign that the first track on Dusty in Memphis, "Just a Little Lovin'," reminds me a bit of the style of vocal that would either be sampled or revisited for a Massive Attack or Portishead record. This record is a pretty clear indication of what those band were going for when recruiting female vocalists for specific tracks. All of the slower tracks here, like "The Windmills of Your Mind," are just demanding the Bristol sound underneath them for a fascinating reinvention - but that time is not yet at hand.

So far, what really intrigues me about this record is the instrumentation. They don't make producer/engineer combos like this anymore - Arif Martin, Tom Dowd and Jerry Wexler. Good lord. I don't care if you have Dr. Dre, Timbaland, Rick Rubin, Pharrell and Scott Storch all working on one supertrack - besides Phil Spector and George Martin, there are no higher names than the list on this record. I love me some Jerry Wexler, in particular - that guy is old and nuts and awesome. He'll throw out phrases like "that'll put some grease in your grits" and other fantastic witticisms along those lines. Just for that alone, I feel compelled to get into this record. Sadly, he doesn't have long left in this world, it seems.

When I worked at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, my boss wrote an entire book about Dusty in Memphis. It was the first book of the popular 33 1/3 series. I read it the following year, mostly to try to get a line on this guy I had worked with and become mildly fascinated with, without caring much about his discussion of the record. But now I think it's finally time to give him a call to talk about some things. Maybe he'll steer me in the direction to unlock what's considered so tremendous about this record, because this far, it's so incredibly foreign - but appealing - to my ear, and I'm dying for a way in.

Help me, Warren Zanes. You're my only hope.

A medley of a bunch of stuff

#25: N.W.A. - Straight Outta Compton

2007-07-26T02:06:00.000-05:00

"Life ain't nothin' but bitches and money." I mean, that's it, basically. If that sentence doesn't inspire head-nodding (with the tempo, not agreement) or a smile, then I guess you're Trent Lott. The pinnacle of Straight Outta Compton is clearly the opening one-two punch of the title track and "Fuck tha Police," both of which shine their brightest during Ice Cube's verses, which are the most often-quoted and show him to be obviously the group's most capable rapper at that point. It sounds like Dr. Dre was still working past his World Class Wreckin' Cru era vocally, and he wouldn't hit his own flow as an MC until The Chronic four years later.

It's interesting to check out the list of samples here. There's the multiple and mandatory use of "Funky Drummer" and a visit from the Mighty Mouse theme, but there's also a handful of then-contemporary snippets, such as bits from the Beastie Boys and Public Enemy.

Beyond all the 'blah blah blueprint for gangsta rap blah blah' (although some give that honor to Scarface's Mr. Scarface Is Back), Straight Outta Compton is just a great album, regardless of considering its historical significance. Some people I know respect Run-DMC for their influence and as pioneers of rap, but find their records dated and corny. I don't, but it's even more impossible to hear Straight Outta Compton as dated. It sounds more fresh than lots of the computer-generated shit out there now, and aside from a very small handful of producers that would come along later, no one has really caught up to Dr. Dre for creating a fascinating sonic bed for such cheery expressions of misogyny and cop-killin'.

"Straight Outta Compton"

Ice Cube performing his verse from "Fuck tha Police" live in 1998. This tour was with Korn, Rammstein, Orgy and pre-fame Limp Bizkit, so check out the crackers going nuts about injustice in South Central.

#24: Nile - Ithyphallic

2007-07-25T02:59:00.001-05:00

As exciting as the prospect of buying a new Nile record was, the thrill was a bit dimmed by my impossible expectations. The first time I listened to Nile's last record, Annihilation of the Wicked, stands as one of the very few moments involving literal jaw-dropping that I've had with music in the last several years. When the hyperspeed riffing and borderline vulgar drumming of "Cast Down the Heretic" came on, I felt like I'd just done all the coke that appears on-screen in both Scarface and Blow while skydiving into a shark feeding frenzy, armed with an ice pick and my remaining wits.

But two years and a record label later, there's something missing here. Oh yeah: songs. Even after the first spin of Annihilation of the Wicked, I already was singling out multiple favorite tracks and starting to pick up some of the riffs. While having instantly recognizable songs obviously isn't a requirement for making great music, it certainly helps, especially in extreme metal, where so much of it sounds like kittens in a woodchipper, anyways. But here, it's all rocks in a blender without the gritty aftertaste.

The one song that did stand out was "The Essential Salts," which is a little curious, because it's one of the few songs on the record that Karl Sanders, the brain behind Nile, didn't have a hand in writing. It has a bit of the explosive sound of "Lashed to the Slave Stick," one of my favorite Nile tracks, and throws in plenty of melodic guitar flailings for good measure. "Papyrus Containing the Spell to Preserve Its Possessor Against Attacks From He Who is in the Water" (yes, I copy/pasted) serves well enough as this album's Headbanger's Ball fodder, but it's not quite as interesting as "Sacrifice Unto Sebek," which was simultaneously Annihilation's single and weak point.

There really seems to be something missing in the songwriting on Ithyphallic. Musically, the performances are spot-on and as swift as ever (although the vocals feel slightly tamer this time around), but the gripping passages of building tension and batshit insane time signature changes don't stack up like they used to. Either I'm underwhelmed because I'm more familiar with the genre now and have different expectations besides pure bludgeoning, or possibly Ithyphallic is just a lesser successor to one of my favorite metal records of the last few years.

There haven't been any videos released yet (the album came out last week), but "Papyrus" and "Cast Down the Heretic," among others, are available for streaming at the band's MySpace page.

For fun, here's a drum spec video of a live performance of "Cast Down the Heretic."

#23: Elton John - Honky Château

2007-07-24T01:16:00.000-05:00

Honky Château opens with pretty standard Elton John fare, and to the average ear, it starts to come across as just more of the same. But once things get going, it actually becomes one of his most interesting records.

That's not to say that the more traditional material isn't great - songs like "Mellow" and "Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters" manage to be some of his best songs while operating within his normal framework - but the most rewarding material comes when he stretches himself a bit.

"Slave," in particular, is a standout. With its reliance on acoustic guitars and banjo - and the complete absence of piano - it comes across as a great lost Band track. Album closer "Hercules" - which Elton had taken as his new middle name only months before - also features a slide guitar solo and some of his finer heavy, low-register piano work.

Of course, there's "Rocket Man," but there really isn't a ton to say about it. I remember it from when I was five and hearing my dad play it on acoustic guitar and wondering what in the hell the lyrics meant, and they still don't really make any sense. It was absurd enough before Shatner got involved.

There's also the bouncy jaunt through "I Think I'm Going to Kill Myself," which competes for one of the most bizarre pairings of tone and lyrics in popular music. The phrase "I think I'm gonna kill myself/Cause a little suicide" is pretty odd. I've never heard anyone say they're going to go around and cause a little murder, but maybe I just don't have the right friends. It's also funny to hear, at the end of the song, that the only way to get away from a dose of shotgun mouthwash is if Brigitte Bardot comes to see him nightly. Perhaps it's only giggle-worthy with 35 years of hindsight.

Overall, my knowledge of Elton's catalog remains slim at best, but I'm working on it. For a guy who put out so many records - 4 releases in 1971 alone - I've found his work a bit daunting to approach, but I think I've finally broken the seal. Huzzah.

"Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters"

"I Think I'm Going to Kill Myself"

#22: Danzig - Danzig

2007-07-23T02:36:00.000-05:00

It's taken me far, far too long to even find a copy of the first Danzig record in stores. Seriously, for an album this renowned, you'd think it'd be more accessible. But this is the first time I've ever seen a copy - new or used - in a store. And I've been looking.

For as much of the tone as Glenn Danzig drags over from the Misfits, it's still pretty easy to describe the band Danzig as the Doors by way of Satan. Good times. Inexplicably, the All Music Guide tried to give every single song on this record a different title when I put it in my computer. But once I got the real song titles straight, songs like "Twist of Cain" and "She Rides" and the absolute classic "Mother" rocked as hard and as sleazy as one could possibly hope for.

It's fun to hear how songs like "End of Time" drew from Mercyful Fate's "Melissa" and how "The Hunter" was the obvious predecessor for Priestess' great track "Talk to Her." There's a good bit of grabbing from the past and giving to the future here, and that's what makes a great rock record in my eyes. The guitars are balls-out and the drumming is as solid a backbone as a band could need. It may not be the screeching punk of the Misfits, but as far as straightforward rock goes, Danzig knocks it out of the park with its 1988 debut.

All I need is a little Samhain and I'll have all of the Glenn Danzig bands covered. Maybe I'll make that happen. I guess we'll see what's available. But I have tomorrow's record already, and I can guarantee it's not horror-punk.

"Am I Demon"

"Twist of Cain"

And of course, "Mother"

#20 & #21: Sly and the Family Stone - Dance to the Music and Life

2007-07-22T01:13:00.000-05:00

I took yesterday off, so here's a double dose. After reading this piece in Vanity Fair a few weeks back, I decided to push further into the Sly and the Family Stone catalog. Luckily for me, some chump had traded in his mint-condition copies of Dance to the Music and Life, the band's two 1968 releases, and the ones that broke them into mainstream consciousness. Fun fact: the Stewart family (the real last name of Sly and his siblings) was originally from Denton, Texas.

Dance to the Music is the record the band made after Clive Davis, then the head of Columbia Records, said he wanted some hits - the same struggle Kelly Clarkson would have with him thirty-nine years later. And with the album's title track, a hit he got.

Along with James Brown, there's no better inspiration for bands like Parliament than Sly and the Family Stone, especially the band's early material. Bassist Larry Graham is commonly recognized as the inventor of slap-bass, paving the way for the likes of Bootsy Collins and Flea down the road.

Along with all the dancing and upbeat, 'be yourself' vibe of the record, there's some real heart in there, especially on the blunt, gospel-driven "I Ain't Got Nobody (For Real)." After a while, there's only so much of the 'everybody get along and have a good time' theme that can really resonate, so it's a welcome change to hear something a bit more emotionally raw.

For as much as this album is credited as being a predecessor to the band's glory years, I think this is just as good as anything else the band released. It doesn't sound like a band struggling to find a sound or create its own universe - the universe is already there, and they're in full control of it. This is probably my favorite Sly and the Family Stone record I've heard at this point.

Life came out only a few months after Dance to the Music, and wasn't as big of a hit. The album was solid from start to finish, but there was no defining or outstanding single that let the record break out. Regardless, Life is commonly regarded as the record that established the band's persona, musically and visually, and as the cornerstone of funk.

Maybe it's because I listened to this back-to-back with Dance to the Music (after having listened to Stand! earlier in the day) and I got a bit burned out, but Life didn't connect with me as well as the other two. There's something of a stripped-down approach on its predecessor that appealed to me, and on Life, it feels more like the band is throwing everything it can find into its proto-psychedelic funk pastiche and leaving it all in.

What stands out the most is what the band borrowed or who borrowed from it later - "Plastic Jim" nicks the vocal melody and some of the lyrical structure from "Eleanor Rigby," and Fatboy Slim would later use the opening seconds of "Into My Own Thing" for "Weapon of Choice."

It's certainly a stunningly creative record, and it's likely that my slightly lesser opinion of it is due to my late evening funk OD, but my opinion so far on Dance to the Music and Life seems to be the reverse of the standard critically-accepted version of where these albums fall in the band's oeuvre. I definitely enjoy both and I'm glad I bought them, but I think I need some cracker-ass white boy music next to even me out.

"Dance to the Music"

"Life"

#19: Digital Underground - Sex Packets

2007-07-20T00:01:00.001-05:00

In my experience with hip-hop, save for Run-DMC and early Nas, you're going to get a shitload of tracks on your albums. Nearing twenty tracks per record seems like some sort of perverse goal, but oddly, it seemed to work in the early days. But, in accordance with the nature of creating pop songs and to avoid redundancy, none of the tracks dragged on for too long. But then came Sex Packets.

Released in 1990, Sex Packets was the Digital Underground's first album, and despite the group's notoriety for being Tupac's first home, he was only a dancer at this point, and doesn't actually appear on a track until the subsequent EP, 1991's This is an EP Release. Anyhow, Sex Packets has a bunch of tracks. And for rap songs, they're all long as hell. There's a handful of seven and eight-minute manifestos, the likes of which hadn't been heard since songs like "The Breaks" or "Rapper's Delight." By the time I finished the third track on Sex Packets, I would have been eight tracks deep into a Dizzee Rascal album.

Length aside, everything is pretty solid, and the song structures don't tend to allow for much meandering. Lyrics like "I once got busy in a Burger King bathroom" make "The Humpty Dance" one of the more out-there songs for Weird Al to ever include in one of his medleys, though I guess he did throw "Closer" into one. Yeah, I listened to Weird Al when I was 10. Do something.

For my taste, the seven-minute title track is the album's most interesting song, utilizing a much slower tempo and not much rapping - more like strained singing - and the tone is enough to make it stand out. Ignoring the lyrics, the song actually sounds genuinely sweet, which is a rather different attitude from the rest of the record.

On the whole, Sex Packets is an absolute beast to absorb all at once. I might as well try to memorize Life After Death or Sandinista in an evening. It's hard to see how this will be an album I'll ever really want to put on from start to finish, but the individual songs will definitely be welcomed when they come up on shuffle. But being as unfamiliar with the tracks as I am, my first spin through Sex Packets was really more like homework than a party-starter. I'll give it time.

"The Humpty Dance"

#18: Soundgarden - Louder Than Love

2007-07-19T01:00:00.000-05:00

Soundgarden is maybe the only band ever where I'm convinced that a bass player made all the difference. I suppose I did like post-Paul D'Amour Tool best, but that band doesn't cross my brain much these days. However, I'm pretty convinced that Soundgarden was two different bands with original bassist Hiro Yamamoto and his replacement, Ben Shepherd.

When I went through my original Soundgarden phase my senior year of high school, I stuck to the post-Badmotorfinger era Soundgarden. I'd grown up with songs like "Outshined," "Fell on Black Days" and "Burden in My Hand," so I stayed along those lines. Eventually, I got around to checking out the band's pre-success material, and I remember thinking then, "Hmm, this is why they were never big until later."

Six years later, I still think I'm right. The songs on Louder Than Love, the band's 1989 A&M Records debut, mostly grind by in the style of the lesser Superunknown tracks, while only Chris Cornell seems to have a grasp of what would later become his howling, belt-it-out style. Louder Than Love was the only true LP that Soundgarden would release until Badmotorfinger came along, and even though I've still never been a huge fan of that record, the differences are many. Whereas Badmotorfinger has a few steamrolling songs and a few of the band's most memorable riffs, Louder Than Love is much more of a 'what the hell are we going to do with this rock stuff' kind of record. At fifty-three minutes, it's way too long for a band at this stage of its career, and there really isn't much that indicates the levels of greatness the band would later attain.

For me, as soon as Shepherd came on board to replace Yamamoto, the band really reached its potential. The songs Shepherd wrote, especially Superunknown standout "Head Down" and Down on the Upside's "An Unkind," remain two of my favorite Soundgarden tracks. That's not to say Chris Cornell isn't a tremendously talented songwriter - the dude plays chords I've never even heard of, and could never possibly replicate. When I interviewed him, he said he didn't even know where those chords came from, and I wanted to kick him in the face. Too bad his new solo record blows. Euphoria Morning is about as good as it gets for me, really.

As a document of the band's early history, Louder Than Love serves its purpose, even if it doesn't stand as a solid record in its own right. There's a chance I could get into some of the more droning tunes at some point, particularly the closer "Full On (Reprise)," but I'll likely stick to my post-1991 Soundgarden records. It's cool to hear where one of the more important bands of my youth came from, but Louder Than Love makes it clear that they only broke when they were finally ready. I guess I'm in the minority that thinks that in this case, shorter hair doth a better band make.

"Full On Kevin's Mom" live. Enjoy the eternally varying quality of Chris Cornell's voice live. I'm always terrified to see the guy, because he either absolutely slays or absolutely sucks live.

"Hands All Over" from the same show.

#17: Credence Clearwater Revival - Cosmo's Factory

2007-07-18T00:27:00.000-05:00

For as much as CCR is known for succinct songs and its gritty, tightly-knit swamp rock sound, there are some damn long songs on Cosmo's Factory. The record opens with a seven-minute original, "Ramble Tamble," and the penultimate track is their eleven-minute run through "I Heard it Through the Grapevine."

Cosmo's Factory was the band's fifth record, and contained the most singles - six in total, and none of which peaked below number four in America. That's quite the statistic. Oddly, despite this album's success, and although I enjoy it, I still have to cede my favor to Willy and the Poor Boys, which, to me, keeps a bit more of the band's trademark swamp stomp intact.

Oddly, I'm somehow attracted to a song with a name as wretched as "Ooby Dooby," and I'm not ashamed to admit it. But besides the obvious gems of "Lookin' Out My Back Door" and "Up Around the Bend," my favorite non-original tracks is the band's blazing version of Bo Diddley's "Before You Accuse Me." They manage to keep Bo's abrasive guitar playing intact, while adding the appropriate Louisiana touches (which probably wasn't all that hard, seeing as Diddley is from Mississippi - and yes, I know they weren't actually from Louisiana).

Sometimes I wonder if bands like CCR and The Band are the most classic rock bands ever. The whole Southern/mountain/bayou vibe manages to create an attitude that, to me, has defined rock and roll since I was a kid. I knew probably a dozen CCR songs by the time I was twelve, and I have vivid memories of driving around singing "The Weight" when I was about the same age. I go back further with the Beatles and Pink Floyd, but there's something so gloriously traditional and primal about bands with more of a boogie in their step.

I watched The Last Waltz a couple of times over the last few days, and I'm reading the Neil Young bio Shakey, so roots/country rock has been on the brain lately. Even though I haven't taken the chance to listen to him, I hear Ryan Adams is the only credible guy in country rock these days. I wonder if a band in the vein of The Band or CCR came along next month if they'd be seen as imitators or if they'd be given a fair shot. It'd be interesting to see what would have to happen for a band to pull of a sound like this these days and meet with similar success or critical acclaim. Is it a tapped genre? I really can't decide if it needs to be left alone or if there's more to explore.

"Travelin' Band" live. This is borderline punk rock.

#16: Carcass - Heartwork

2007-07-17T01:20:00.001-05:00

Due to the amount of grief latter-day Carcass gets from the tr00 metal dicks, I was pretty prepared for something drastically different on Heartwork than the earlier sludge-and-gargle symphonies like Reek of Putrefaction, which is the only Carcass record I owned up until now.

When I first bought Putrefaction, I thought either my speakers were busted or the record was misprinted. But it turned out that, no, it was just the most poorly-produced record ever made until Transilvanian Hunger came along. Over time, I grew to appreciate the never-quite-graspable, yet somehow inviting sound of that record, and I don't own anything else quite like it.

So when the polished production and half-time tempos of Heartwork came on, even though I had read quite a bit about the record, it was still a big change. Right now, as I'm listening to "This Mortal Coil," there's a guitar solo that wouldn't be out of place on a Megadeth record. Not that any of this is particularly bothersome - the songwriting is clearly better, and there's no 'everything but the kitchen sink' mentality - but I kind of miss the panic and the vomit.

But the band's prior albums aside, it's easy to hear why this is hailed as a landmark metal record. The riffs are there, the songs are tightly constructed, and the tones on the guitars is perfectly gritty but not as off-putting to the casual metal fan. There's still not much to grab hold of in terms of verses and choruses, and the songs hang around for around four minutes each, as opposed to the two-minute bursts of the band's earlier work. I suppose Swansong is when the shit really hit the fan about people giving the band a hard time, but Heartwork really bridges the gap between the more straightforward goregrind of the first few records and the advanced melodicism they'd later adopt.

My only gripe is that there are no track titles as awesome as "Microwaved Uterogestation" and "Vomited Anal Tract."

"No Love Lost"

"Heartwork"

#15: Cat Stevens - Mona Bone Jakon

2007-07-16T00:42:00.001-05:00

Mona Bone Jakon is Cat Stevens' third record, made after his struggle with tuberculosis in his early twenties. It is probably best known at this point as being the immediate predecessor to the tremendously successful Tea for the Tillerman, an album I've had memorized for about ten years now.

Oddly, even as much as I loved that record, I never bothered to look into his other material. After watching his set at Live Earth last weekend (I swear he forgot some of the lyrics to "Where Do the Children Play," but no one has mentioned this), I finally found a copy of Mona Bone Jakon today. When I came home from the store, there was an old Cat Stevens concert on VH1 Classic, so I felt good about it.

A trio of these songs - "I Think I See the Light," "I Wish, I Wish" and "Trouble" - are best known for their inclusion in Harold and Maude, which, after listening to this record, I badly want to watch again.

As a whole, the record, expectedly, isn't as strong as Tea for the Tillerman, but it's very obviously pointing in the direction he was starting on. Songs like "Fill My Eyes" and "Maybe You're Right" rank up there with his best material, and other than the quirky "Pop Star" (like a more folksy "So You Want to be a Rock 'N' Roll Star"), which doesn't really do much, all the songs here are in the classic Cat Stevens style.

One thing that strikes me is how underrated the instrumentation is on Cat Stevens' records. Most attention goes to his vocals and lyrics, but his guitar work (along with second guitarist Alun Davies) is consistently strong, and his piano playing is remarkably expressive. Even Peter Gabriel gets in on the action here, contributing flute parts. But there's something about his finger-picking and the intricacy of the arrangements that I've always found pretty classic.

While Mona Bone Jakon is typically viewed as a stepping stone more than as a creation in its own right, there's lots of budding greatness on this record. I'm not sure why I can love Cat Stevens and hate James Taylor, but apparently I'm capable. And unfortunately, only one of those two is in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

"Maybe You're Right"

"Fill My Eyes" (couldn't embed this one)

#14: Misfits - Walk Among Us

2007-07-14T16:40:00.001-05:00

I listened to Walk Among Us twice on a barely forty-minute drive this afternoon, and I haven't had this much fun with such a mean, dirty record since I bought Melissa. "All Hell Breaks Loose" is about as catchy as a song that's 1:47 can be, and the thrashing of "Vampira" came and went in the time it took me to change lanes. That's some goddamn hyperspeed punk for you.

The most fist-pumping track was the insanely fast live cut of "Mommy Can I Go Out & Kill Tonight," and the way the live recording was engineered makes the instruments whirl about in a furious sludge - incoherent, but excellent.

Especially after re-watching the video for Danzig's "Mother" on VH1 Classic this morning and thinking of him in his Jim Morrison days, it's refreshing to hear Glenn spew his monster movie lyrics at machine gun speed. It's about as much fun as music in this style can be, and it's too bad that the original lineup of the band splintered in 1983, only a year and a half after Walk Among Us was released.

"All Hell Breaks Loose" live

"Mommy Can I Go Out & Kill Tonight" live

#13: Ghostface Killah - Ironman

2007-07-14T02:45:00.001-05:00

I'm only one pass through Ghostface Killah's 1996 solo debut, Ironman, but I think that it may be, upon first listen, my favorite Wu-Tang solo record so far. Then again, all I have to compare it to is Liquid Swords and the first ODB record, and I really enjoy both, but this may be the most immediately enjoyable after a single spin.

Without a doubt, the most startling track was "Wildflower," a rant against a female that probably served as a much more R-rated predecessor of Eminem's more extreme "Kim." "Wildflower" is pure scorn, but Eminem took his to violent extremes, and the virtues of restraint versus full emotional expression could be endlessly debated.

So far, I don't find the album as cohesive or as interesting, beat-wise, as the RZA's other productions I'm familiar with, but oddly, I find it to be one of the most compelling. There's not an abundance of typical Wu-Tang samurai samples, but the delivery and lyricism of Ironman is just as good as anything I've heard from the collective so far. Maybe before long I'll be able to tell who's who on Enter the Wu-Tang, but for now I'm content to get more familiar with the guy who belted out the opening lines to "Bring Da Ruckus."

"Daytona 500"

#12: Booker T. & the M.G.s - Green Onions

2007-07-12T23:24:00.000-05:00

The song "Green Onions" is perhaps the scourge of baseball fans across the country, but for as much as that damn keyboard line has infected stadiums over the last 45 years, there's a lot more going on with this record.

The most recognizable songs are obviously the title track and the two most obvious covers, "Twist and Shout" and "I Got a Woman," the latter if which was so sped up and altered that I barely recognized it.

Apart from "Green Onions," the lineup of organist Booker T. Jones, guitarist Steve Cropper, bassist Lewis Steinberg, and drummer Al Jackson, Jr. is most famous for being the house band for Stax Records, playing on records by the likes of the Staples Singers, Sam & Dave, Wilson Pickett, and Otis Redding.
But while that's a full slate of Sixties legends, the sound the band put out could easily pass for a slightly funked-up version of the musical beds used by groups like the Drifters. And as an instrumental band, it's easy to hope for a soaring Ben E. King vocal to come in on something like "Behave Yourself."

For as much attention gets paid to the high-speed instrumental workouts, I found the most compelling tracks on the record to be the slower jams, songs like "Stranger on the Shore" and "Lonely Avenue," which tone down on the in-your-face virtuosity and focus on subtlety and feel. It's surprising an instrumental band can be so expressive, but I guess that's more of a bias from sticking primarily to vocal music for most of my life.

So while I plan on skipping the song "Green Onions" every time it comes up on shuffle, there's a lot of life and skill on this record that's worth getting a grasp on.

"Green Onions"

Otis Redding performing "Shake" at the Monterey Pop Festival with the M.G.s as his backing band

#11: Prince - Dirty Mind

2007-07-12T02:13:00.000-05:00

As a guy who only really knows Purple Rain, Dirty Mind, Prince's third record, was a bit startling. Instead of richly-instrumented tracks with a little bit of air here and there, these tracks are all surprisingly minimalist, although not necessarily sparse.

Especially interesting is how little guitar makes an impression. For a guy who can play guitar pretty much as well as anyone, it's curious to hear him focusing on the percussive elements and featuring keyboards as much as anything else. Of course, none of this is to say that it's bad or of lesser quality, but it's a new sound to me.

I don't own any Manowar albums yet, so I think this is the only album I own featuring a guy in bikini briefs on the cover. Opener "Dirty Mind" features lyrics that would be a harbinger of "Take Me With U," and "When You Were Mine" is very new wave - it could easily be the backing track for a Cars song. For the most part, the vocals are more precise and he doesn't emote all over the place, so nothing nearly as furious as "The Beautiful Ones," my favorite Prince track so far, comes across here.

This is one of the records where Prince played just about everything on his own, which is particularly interesting on a track like "Do It All Night," which, unlike the rest of the record, had pretty elaborate instrumentation going on. If I could play any one instrument this well, I'd be set.

At this point, I only own three Prince records: Dirty Mind, Purple Rain, and 1999, the latter of which I bought a month ago and still haven't listened to. For some reason, I see Prince as a bit of an impenetrable wall, so I get nervous about diving into one of his records. I'm a wuss. I also found out that the CD version of 1999 leaves off a track, which bums me out a little, but I'll get around to it before long. But for now, after a pair of listens, Dirty Mind has shown me that I shouldn't harbor so much trepidation about exploring Prince records that are thus far unfamiliar.

"Dirty Mind" - I keep waiting for the keyboard intro to segue into "Tragedy" by the Bee Gees. That song rules.

This has nothing to do with this record, but it's Prince playing guitar better than just about everyone ever. When I used to work at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, this footage was on a looped tape in one section of the museum, and on my break, I'd stand and watch the video play until it got to this part. Goddamn incredible. This made me want to buy a Telecaster.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps

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#10: New York Dolls - New York Dolls

2007-07-11T03:19:00.000-05:00

For a while, ever since my first read through Please Kill Me, I've heard how the New York Dolls totally created punk rock and blew the lid off of a stagnant glam scene.

But really, it was 1973 - what had happened by then? The goddamn Stooges, that's what. So while I don't exactly buy the theory of the New York Dolls as the foremost progenitors of the style, their debut clearly shows their influence. I like to think of it as the bridge between the gap created by the Stooges and Richard Hell and the Voidoids and Television, which subsequently birthed the Ramones.

There's a pretty good hint of Richard Hell's drawling, half-serious vocals here, and there's a hearty dose of Asheton-esque guitar. For a long time, I assumed I'd hate the Dolls based on the spoken word intro to "Looking for a Kiss," which is about as awkward as it gets for me. But "Personality Crisis" and "Vietnamese Baby" convinced me that this was something that was really worth a shit and not some overhyped relic of a dead era.

While the tracks clearly aren't as immediate as anything the Ramones did, as abrasive as anything the Stooges did, or as lyrically subversive as anything Richard Hell put together, there's still a shitload of fun to be had on this record. "Trash" is a big batch of sleazy fun, complete with excellent time changes and impressive lead guitar, and I'm already incredibly impressed based on what I expected. This will definitely get a lot more listens when I sober up.

"Personality Crisis"

#9: Tears for Fears - The Hurting

2007-07-09T23:48:00.001-05:00

I really don't yet know what to make of The Hurting. For years, I've been wanting to buy the first few Tears for Fears albums, with visions of forty-five minutes of songs with the strength and energy of "Head Over Heels" playing throughout. But a few songs in, I felt like I was listening to the latter half of an unfamiliar Depeche Mode record - which definitely isn't a bad thing, but pretty different.

Perhaps I should have stuck to the obvious expectations created by a record called The Hurting and with a cover as bleak as this one, but based on the singles I was familiar with, I was expecting bouncy pop with gloomy undertones. "Mad World," the one song I already know, delivered in that regard, but the rest was far more sparse and non-hook-oriented that I had imagined.

Out of the songs I didn't know, I really liked "Pale Shelter," which on the first listen, sounded more like seven minutes than four and a half. It's almost tempting to dismiss the second half of the record as aimless gloom, but I really get the feeling that there's a lot to get into with this one. If I wasn't so damn busy this week, this and Berlin and I Against I would be getting a lot more listens. But alas, the exploits of Sunset Strip rockers are taking priority over my listening schedule, so I must acquiesce.

The first four songs on this record really seem to take forever. I suppose it's not for the attention span-lacking or the mildly intoxicated. Schlitz + Tears for Fears = not a match. Duly noted. But even as things swirl, it's clear that this could be a record that I end up falling in love with as much as Music For the Masses, although it will take more than a few spins. Orzabal and Smith, I swear I'll get this, and only fourteen years too late.

Actually, on second listen, album closer "Start of the Breakdown" is starting to make me think that this will ultimately be pretty amazing. I'm excited to listen to this more now.

On a random side note, I went to Dealey Plaza for a while today, and sat on Abraham Zapruder's perch and listened to The Byrds' "He Was a Friend of Mine" and Lou Reed's "The Day John Kennedy Died." It's perhaps the corniest thing I've done besides listening to "53rd & 3rd" at the intersection and standing outside CBGB's for the duration of the whole first Ramones record (not that it's really that long), but it was oddly affecting.

To break that little pod of sappiness, I just now realized that I was inadvertently listening to the Dead Kennedys as I was walking to the plaza. Everything evens out.

"Mad World"

"Change" - the opening for this song sounds like it could have been a Eurodance hit circa 1995

#8: Bad Brains - I Against I

2007-07-08T23:02:00.000-05:00

One of my main gripes about modern hardcore, besides most of it being completely by the numbers and brainless, is that it has teetered so close to full-on metal that it's ruined my idea of what hardcore is supposed to be, and always messes me up when I try to get into old-school hardcore bands. When I bought Black Flag's Damaged, I was expecting something completely abrasive and grating, and I got joke songs like "TV Party" and other songs that were good, but not what I had in mind. I think only Fresh Fruit For Rotting Vegetables has, so far, lived up to my expectations of classic hardcore in terms of aggression and heaviness.

So by this point, I was a bit more prepared for Bad Brains' I Against I. Really, all I needed was to envision the sound of GWAR's America Must Be Destroyed, and I'd know what I was getting into. And that's a good thing.

After an intro, the first two tracks, "I Against I" and "House of Suffering" buzzed by, and to me, it really just sounds like good rock songs rather than something head-smashing. One of the big gripes about the newest Bad Brains record is that frontman H.R. sounds too restrained - and if it's that bad, I can't imagine how lethargic it must sound, because there's not much mile-a-minute raging going on here. I assume the earlier records are a different story.

Call me closed-minded, but I bet I'll enjoy this more than the other records in the band's catalog, as I Against I is the band's only album that's bereft of Rastafarian themes and the use of reggae elements. As far as amalgams go, that just never sounded like a great match to me. I'll give them a listen at some point, and I hope I'm proved wrong.

It's clear Living Colour took a page or two from Bad Brains' book, and it's interesting to listen to the band as a foundation for what would happen later. Even though I Against I came well after the first wave of hardcore had come and gone, it's cool to hear the album as an evolution of what was probably an exhausted genre after Minor Threat cut their first seven-inch. Regardless of classification, I enjoyed I Against I, and I look forward to digging into the band's earlier material.

As someone who obviously wasn't on hand for the CBGBs matinées or the glory years of Dischord, my perception is somewhat skewed, but so far, I'm having a hard time digging around for the full-on destruction that I imagined classic hardcore embodying.

"I Against I" live in '88. Much more raging than on the record.

"House of Suffering," also live in '88.

Actually, after watching these videos, the fury is there. Maybe the producers at the time had no idea what to do with these bands.

#7: Alice in Chains - Jar of Flies [EP]

2007-07-07T23:23:00.000-05:00

Even though this is longer than many LPs I own, this is allegedly an EP. Fine. Just...fine. Goddammit.

Along with the band's relatively impenetrable self-titled album, this is easily some of band's more subdued material, with much more focus on acoustic guitars and a general absence of cymbal crashes.

Released in 1994, this was the first EP to ever hit the #1 spot on the charts. Also, it contains the band's only #1 hit, "No Excuses." Besides that track and "I Stay Away," I still have managed to remain pretty unaware of most of these songs, which presented a bit of a problem when I saw the band last fall, and the mid-show acoustic section was built around many of these tracks. Whereas I felt they all blended together in a live setting, hearing the studio (self-produced) versions really opens the songs up. Tracks like "Whale & Wasp," during which I almost nodded off at the show, are given more of an electric, sorrowful stroke on the record, which, in this case, I connect to better than just a straightforward acoustic version.

So much attention is paid to the band's more rockin' tracks, with most tending to lean towards "Man in the Box" and "Would?" and "Them Bones" and the like, but this record sounds like almost another band entirely. Perhaps the band gets written off a bit due to excessive gloom and their fascination with sludginess, both on the rockers and the softer tunes, but Jerry Cantrell's playing shines just as much, if not more, on acoustic guitar, and suggests that maybe even though the band was tremendously successful, there's still a bit of underrating happening at this point in terms of the band as pure songwriters. If Springsteen or even someone like James Taylor did these, they'd be considered to be in a higher echelon of songs.

Obviously, I'm not going out on a limb by extolling the virtues of a band that's sold fifteen million albums, but there seems to be even more going on here than I was aware of. I've been listening to Alice in Chains since I was ten, but it seems that I keep discovering more and more. I never imagined their catalog would be this deep.

"No Excuses" from MTV Unplugged

#6: Cryptopsy - None So Vile

2007-07-07T01:09:00.000-05:00

I've been waiting to own this album for two years. I'm not even done with the first song as I'm typing this, and holy shit, it doesn't disappoint. For all the hype surrounding Flo Mounier's drums and Lord Worm's gargled screams, this absolutely, totally lives up to the hype. And I'm still on "Crown of Horns," the opener, and I've already air-drummed like a crazy asshole and broken a sweat. This is brilliant.

I just came home from a day of terribly lackluster 'metal' at the kickoff date of the Sounds of the Underground tour. There was more chugga-chugga hardcore than metal, so besides the brief respite provided by the glorious Amon Amarth, I'm in complete need of metal deliverance, and None So Vile is absolutely delivering.

For being released in 1996, there's absolutely nothing dated about this record. It sounds like they could go on tour now alongside the likes of Nile and Behemoth and absolutely slay. And they probably could, until Lord Worm quit the band (again) a few months back.

Good lord, look at the album art. That basically says it all. Music for decapitations. Time to go commit some.

Listen to Cryptopsy - Phobophile (MP3)

Also, I met Brian Slagel today. I told him I respected him, and he seemed flattered. That's a good day in my book.

#5: The Specials - The Specials

2007-07-05T22:21:00.000-05:00

There was a time when all I really knew about British music came from my Beatles records and the soundtrack to Snatch. It was a sad state of affairs, but that soundtrack served as my introduction to plenty of good bands, like The Stranglers, 10cc, The Specials, and especially Massive Attack, which is one of my most-listened to bands over the last two years. Oasis had a track on there, too, and I've been an Oasis junkie for a year now. Being trapped in ten years ago is awesome. Say, have you heard of Elastica?

I can't say I'm terribly familiar with much old school ska, so perhaps this album put me off due to my unfamiliarity with the general aesthetics of the genre in this era. "Ghost Town," the Specials' sole #1 and their tune in Snatch, was a pretty active song with bright production and enough going on to keep it consistently entertaining. Maybe it's Elvis Costello's production on this record or just the slightly more sparse sounds of an unfamiliar genre, but it was easy to get distracted while listening or wish there were more things happening.

After "A Message To You Rudy," the only song on the record I was already familiar with, I wasn't really sure what to expect - some songs were in the same ska-reggae vein, some were a bit more rockin' out, and some just seemed to exist without being much of anything. I spent most of "It's Up To You" waiting for it to kick in. There were still a handful of really energetic and driving songs along the lines I was expecting, such as "Concrete Jungle" and "(Dawning of A) New Era," so I was kept amused. The album picked up at the end, and I'm looking forward to giving it another play to see if now that I'm a bit more prepared, I'll dig it more. I bet I will.

"A Message to You Rudy" live in 1979

"Gangsters"

#4: The Dillinger Escape Plan - Under the Running Board [EP]

2007-07-05T00:02:00.000-05:00

This is easily the shortest CD I have ever purchased. Obviously, it's an EP, but its three tracks go by in just over seven minutes. But if there's one thing the Dillinger Escape Plan can do, it's stretch time. Even in a song that scarcely tops the two-minute mark, there are still numerous time changes and distinct parts swirling about in the chaos.

The second track, "Sandbox Magician," is 2:31 in length, but feels more like six minutes by the time it's done. And at 3:12, "Abe the Cop" might as well be outright prog. It's sharp, grating, and over quickly. Kind of like death by multiple stabwounds.

This only the second piece of DEP music I own that features original vocalist Dmitri Minakakis, and I still don't like him as much as his replacement, Greg Puciato. There's something more emphatic and weighty about Puciato's delivery, and his sense of melody is infinitely stronger. The OG fans tend to stick with Minakakis to retain street cred, but I'm with Puciato.

I've only seen the Dillinger Escape Plan once, but it was easily the most intense show I've ever been to. The band walked onstage pretty casually, counted off clicks, and as soon as they kicked into "Panasonic Youth," everything became a blur - my first coherent visual was Puciato, with a mic in one hand and screaming away, holding the mic stand above his head with the other, brandishing it like an axe and chopping at the audience like so much lumber. It was the only show I've attended where I felt concern for my safety as a result of the band, not the meatheads in the crowd. By the last song, "Sunshine the Werewolf," Puciato - whose biceps are comparable to bowling balls - was hurling his huge vocal monitor into the front row of the crowd. I'm amazed people come back from these shows in one piece. Slipknot shows might as well be Dashboard Confessional sing-a-longs.

"The Mullet Burden" live. Ignore the first 50 seconds, that rubbish isn't on the album track - it's just 91 seconds long.

For good measure here's a glimpse at the unpredictability and disorder of a typical DEP show. This is at the Virgin Megastore in Times Square. It's not a track from Under the Running Board, but it's a taste of what it's like to feel real fear at the hands of a rock band.

#3: Curtis Mayfield - Superfly

2007-07-03T22:08:00.001-05:00

I said godDAMN! If Superfly was a car, it would be purple and orange and polish the street behind it because it's so damn smooth. I've been enjoying the hell out of Isaac Hayes' Hot Buttered Soul lately, and Superfly is all the fun of that record with none of the guilt of supporting a Scientologist.

All the songs are smokin', and the performances are spot-on but never so precise that they're cold and rigid. I started slouching and smirking as soon as the record came on, which is my body language's illiterate way of saying that something has enough groove to put all the rubbish I had to listen to at college dance parties to shame.

The version I picked up was the 1999 reissue, which has pretty nice song-by-song liner notes, which, as a dork, makes me happy. I'm looking forward to the day where I'm in the mood to sit down and listen to What's Going On, Hot Buttered Soul, and Superfly all in a row. Maybe I'll somehow absorb some cool from the records, but I think I'm too far gone. Regardless, I can't help but feel at least 0.6% cooler with this record on.

I don't feel the need to babble too much particular tracks about this one - it's a landmark record, so there's not a ton left to say. I had no complaints whatsoever, and the foul taste in my mouth from yesterday is fully washed out. I suddenly want glasses and a beard and an awesome jacket.

"Superfly" live back in the day

Performing "Pusherman" in his later years. He may have the corniest-looking band ever, but he still sounded great. He sounds so good that it's hard to convince myself that he isn't pantomiming to the album track, but sho' nuff, it's live from 1988.

#2: Pavement - Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain

2007-07-02T21:34:00.001-05:00

When I came up with the idea for CD Slut, part of the point was that since I'd be getting something every day, I could take chances on records I had been apprehensive about, since I'd be more apt to grab something random if I knew I could try again the next day. Today was my first such choice, and I grabbed Pavement's Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. I came across a few things I had been wanting and I knew I'd enjoy, but perhaps we'll postpone those for another day.

There's something about my general disdain for hipster kid/indie culture that has made me opposed to Pavement without knowing anything about them whatsoever. Until today, I couldn't name a single Pavement song, and this album was the only one I knew by name. It's the overall indie aesthetic, at least as I perceive it, that I'm opposed to: Hey, let's half-ass it and make things sound ragged, and if someone thinks it sounds bad, then they just don't get the 'realness.' That's overly reductive, I suppose, but that's the feeling I've had for as long as I can remember.

As soon as the album opened with "Silence Kit," all I could hear was Rivers Cuomo, although somehow more tone deaf and strained than Pinkerton's rougher moments. I've never found the cracking, forced style of vocals endearing like they're supposed to be - I just hear a guy that can't sing. The limit of my tolerance for unhinged vocals is probably Ian Curtis, because you can at least tell that guy meant it. And I have a soft spot for Nico.

By track three, "Stop Breathin," I'd almost checked out already, until a well-constructed section that built and built caught me off guard. It reminded me of Isis without the distortion, which is at least something I can grab onto, but that would be the only passage on the album that made me take any real notice. From then on, it was a snoozer except for when goddamn "Cut Your Hair" came on. I couldn't have identified it as a Pavement song, but when I used to hear it in a commercial (wasn't it in one?) or wherever it was I came across the song, I still knew I hated it. And I still do.

Even as I was listening for the first time, I couldn't imagine the occasion I'd have to want to listen to it again. This isn't a record anyone can sing along to (not that that's necessarily a criterion for greatness, but it certainly helps me connect with a record), and nothing really seems to happen in the songs. I spent most of its run time grimacing, and not in a 'this is challenging me and I can't quite understand it' sort of way, but in a 'someone needs to empty the litter box' sort of way.

Maybe it's not working for me because I half-expected to hate it, but I have allowed myself be surprised before. I didn't want to hate this. I was hoping for a nice kick in the ass to make me turn some of my ideas around. But even though I'd never heard one of these songs and known it at the time, I was somehow able to sift out of the ether that this wasn't for me. Some 'classics' simply don't connect with me, and at this stage, this is one of them.

For the sake of media, here's a live video of "Stop Breathin," the one song that didn't make me pray for SARS.

So far, my record stands at 1-1.

#1: Lou Reed - Berlin

2007-07-01T20:58:00.001-05:00

2007 has been an interesting year for Berlin. Released just a year after Transformer, it was initially reviewed as overblown and too grim for its own damn good. But with a reissue this year and Reed performing the entire album live, it seems like thirty-four years after its release, the revisionist reviews have almost universally bumped it up to near the top of his oeuvre (see also: Pinkerton, the Stooges catalog, and all of Led Zeppelin's albums if you're Rolling Stone).

As much as I love those four (real) Velvet Underground albums, my Lou Reed collection hasn't grown too quickly. It took me a while to get over how great Transformer was when I finally got it, and I ended up getting New York next, which probably wasn't the best plan. I also had a promo of his two-disc live album, Animal Serenade, which gave me my first taste of a handful of the songs on Berlin and taught me that if I ever go see him live, I'll have to exert tremendous patience.

The opening title track caught me a bit off guard, which is odd, since it's not really too far removed from anything on the Velvet Underground's third, chilled-out album. As soon as "Lady Day" started, I knew I'd gotten my money's worth. I instantly wanted to peg the track as being influenced by For Your Pleasure-era Roxy Music, but both albums came out in the same year, so it's hard to chalk it up to much more than coincidence or the zeitgeist. Reed is doing his best Bryan Ferry, whether he knew it or not, and the full instrumentation (the hallmark of producer Bob Ezrin, who would go to rehab immediately after this album's completion) makes the track stand out.

Here's a live version of a very blond Lou Reed - in frontman mode - performing a more rocked-out version of "Lady Day" in 1974.

The middle of the album didn't hold my attention as much, save for "Caroline Says - II." The use of a crying baby on "The Kids" made me twitch a bit; I think the only time that's been used effectively is on one of the segues on Tool's Ænima, but they processed the shit out of it and it sounds creepy as hell. The record picked up for me with the final two tracks, "The Bed" and "Sad Song," two of the most bummed-out songs Reed ever wrote.

Here's "Caroline Says - II" live...like, last week. The video's not amazing, but the audio is quite good for fan-shot footage.

Overall, I'm definitely glad I picked it, and I'll be giving this and Coney Island Baby some more serious attention over the next week or so. 2007 is such a weird year for an album like this to start getting acclaim again, but it's worth revisiting (or just visiting), and it's probably the most interesting (although not yet my favorite) Lou Reed album I own so far.

Welcome to CD Slut

2007-06-25T11:12:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you wake up at two in the morning and have an idea. It sounds pretty sweet at first, rattles around for a while, and then if it still makes sense a week or two later, you run with it. CD Slut is such an idea. The premise itself came before the idea to chronicle it on a blog, and we'll see if it stands up.

Without too many laborious details, here's the conceit: For July and August, I'm subletting an apartment in a different part of town from where I usually live. There is a pretty excellent record store within walking distance. As someone who gets paid to write about music, I'm always jealous when the people I work with have, say, fifteen times as many albums as I do. They also tend to have a twenty-year head start on me, but mama didn't raise no quitter.

So thus the idea was born; every day, I will make the brief trek down the street and buy a CD and probably a burrito. I'll give it a few spins, and then post entirely preliminary impressions and and rushes to judgment, while opening myself up to people telling me why my opinions are rubbish. As a music dork, I have a big list of albums I want, but I won't be bringing it with me. These will be impulse buys based on what sounds good at the time: classics, novelties, the obscure. Genres are but a laughing matter. Also, suggestions are always welcome in the comments section and will be taken under advisement.

For the sake of background, here's a little about me: I write for a handful of national music magazines (though I won't drag them into this), hate onions and am a Cancer. If the idea for this blog sounds like a vanity project, well, I guess it is. But I'm buying the records anyway, dammit, so hopefully myself and a few other people can have some fun with it. We're consuming our media at head-spinning speeds these days, and it sounds more fun to embrace it than to be a curmudgeon with a barrel hoop and a stick.

Let's do this.